#do absolutely wonder what that looked like from the rest of the party's perspective though

[dent-de-leon]

also yes I absolutely cheated and looked up how to save Alfira in a Dark Urge route so we still get to hang out :')

[sirowsky-stories]

Part 30 - The Finale

Pero Tovar and Female Reader (nicknamed Bee) Modern AU

The happily ever after awaits, but as always, there's a bump in the road.

Creator chooses not to use Warnings! This is 18+ONLY! Author's Note: Thank you to everyone that's read and commented, liked or lurked. I'm sorry to leave these guys, but I am very happy with this ending, so I hope you'll like it too <3

Word Count: 9485 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

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   You were getting married in a few days.    That was a tough thing to wrap your head around, even though it was the most wonderful thing ever. Not that it technically changed anything, it was just such a… Thing.    Everyone you’d told had been completely ecstatic about it, adding to the love-fest, but also unwittingly adding a level of pressure that you hadn’t really anticipated.

   You would’ve been fine with simply bringing your father and best friend to church, had a short ceremony and then just made dinner together and had a relaxed party at home.    But word had spread, not just through your family and friends but through your customers as well, and what was most surprising about it was that it was your old clientele that had been most excited, calling to congratulate and asking if they could join the festivities.

   And you hadn’t been able to turn them down. Not after they’d all been so understanding about your injuries and inability to draw anymore. Which was why the wedding had become a gigantic THING.    Over a hundred guests were coming.    You’d had to close the shop for the entire week just to give Abby enough time to organize and prepare everything, from flower arrangements to cakes, not to mention decorating.

   Your chosen venue was an old barn outside of the city, which had long since stopped being used for hay, and become a local dancehall instead. And while it couldn’t seat such a large crowd for a meal, it could seat them for the ceremony, and then they’d all have to take their chair with them out behind the barn, where the tables would already be set, and the lunch already served.

   All of which had been Abby’s idea, and while it had sounded a little spartan to you, your trust in your chosen sister was absolute, so you hadn’t questioned her choices even once.    She’d roped in both Dean and Claire to help with the food, cakes, and snacks, while other acquaintances of hers had provided the furnishings and the logistics of moving them to the location.

   So, thankfully, you hadn’t needed to do much at all, beyond deciding what you wanted to look like on the day. But that was perhaps also why you felt somewhat detached from the whole thing. Like it wasn’t actually happening to you.    Meanwhile, Pero was so wonderfully unbothered. He couldn’t care less how it happened, so long as you were happy with everything.

   And he’d heard you on the phone with so many of your old clients, hearing how moved you’d been to hear from them, so to him, it had never been a question of whether you should turn anyone down from attending.    To him, each guest was just a testament to your kind heart and the open arms with which you’d approached the world throughout your life.

   However, he was also completely drunk on you, ever since you’d decided to try for another baby, so you weren’t entirely sure that his perspectives were all that reliable.

   The morning before the big day was a Friday, and he seemed to wake up in some kind of breeding mode, perhaps as a result of the overall love-theme of that weekend, but in any case, he was downright feral from the moment he opened his eyes.    For forty minutes straight, he had you pinned under him, scarcely letting you move at all, whether you were on your front or back, while he relentlessly drove into you.

   His arms strained to constantly keep your hips elevated against him, and every time he came deep inside you, he refused to let either of you rest, or a single drop of his seed from going to waste.    Not until you were both so spent that your every muscle was trembling, and your bodies just couldn’t move anymore, did he finally let up and allow himself to collapse beside you.

   “Honey…” you breathed after a long pause. “Are you okay?”

   He was so exhausted that all you got in response was a small grunt at first. But after another few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked at you.

   “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

   “Don’t worry about it, I would’ve told you if I didn’t like it, you know that.    I’m just wondering where that came from?” you clarified, and he huffed a laugh, but it seemed like it was directed at himself.

   “You are ovulating, mi amor. It always drives me crazy, but since I will not get to touch you tonight, or tomorrow, I needed to make sure you would be full of me until then,” he explained, prompting you to ignore the fatigue in your body so that you could rise to your elbows, because you needed your head to clear.

   “Wait, what? How-… Since when can you tell if I’m ovulating? I didn’t even know that!” you exclaimed, truly thinking that he must be joking somehow.

   You weren’t actively keeping track of your cycles, beyond having a general idea of when your next bleed would be, because you and Pero rarely ever went a day without sex anyway, so it seemed superfluous.    Surely, he’d just counted the days since your period, how else could he possibly know?

   “You smell different,” he elaborated, turning your jaw slack in the process, leaving your mouth hanging open, which only seemed to amuse him. “It is a very enticing type of smell for me, it always makes me want to put my mark on you. Figuratively, of course.”

   “No way… that can’t be real,” you challenged, but he just smiled and scooted closer, demonstratively sniffing the skin of your lower arm.

   “Oh, yes, it is. You always smell nice to me, but for these few days, it gets… muskier. Richer and more noticeable. You smell like you normally do after sex, even before I’ve touched you.”

   “Seriously?”

   “Mm-hm,” he hummed, and he sounded really pleased.

   “Huh… I never would’ve thought that. I mean, I know we all have our own scent, but I really didn’t think that it could be that noticeable to anyone.    But wait, what do you mean you can’t touch me tonight? We never said we’d do the traditional night before the wedding stuff.”

   “We never said it, no, but I have a feeling it will happen anyway. There is so much to do today, and we will need our sleep for tomorrow, when we’ll both need to get up early and get started on preparations for what is also going to be a very long day.    And to be honest… it is a distraction. At least for me. And I don’t want to be distracted this weekend, I want to be in the present, with you, for all of it.    We have each other to enjoy carnally for the rest of our lives.”

   You sighed lightly, ending in a smile, because this man was just too damned sweet.

   “Well, when you put it like that…”

   He smiled with you, reached up to kiss you softly on the lips, and then started trying to coax his body back to life so that he could get up.

<><><><><> 

   Pero really was very excited about the wedding. He wasn’t even sure why, but it just felt like such a wonderful thing to get to celebrate his love for you among so many people, all of whom had had some form of positive effect on your life, and vice versa.    The only thing he was slightly saddened about, was the knowledge that the extent of the groom’s side was William and no one else. He had nothing more to bring. The rest of them would all come for you.

   But he was tremendously happy that so many people wanted to be there for you. And he was immeasurably proud that he’d get to stand before all those people and hear you confess your love for him.    The sadness he felt lay only in how poor he felt in not having anything but himself to share with you in return. An irrational sadness perhaps, since you’d already proven that none of that mattered to you.

   It was just such a harsh reminder of how alone he’d been before you. But also, of how rich you’d made him.

   Saturday did see the two of you waking up tired, following late night preparations and fixing of last-minute problems that had of course occurred, because it wouldn’t be a big celebration without at least a few mishaps for you to bemusedly recall in the future.    But you were both happy, even as you first woke up, despite the terrible fatigue and the comfiness of the bed that you now had to leave.

   You kissed good morning and then rolled out of bed to get the day started.    You’d agreed that breakfast was going to be a nice and calm affair, with just the three of you, plus Groot, both to give you a good start of the day, but also to make sure that you’d eat something before all the stressful stuff. Because once that started, you knew that you wouldn’t have time to sit down for a meal.

   Mae wasn’t in the best mood, though. She was sleepy in the mornings in general and didn’t approve of being woken extra early, so she was cranky throughout breakfast.    But it was still just a regular morning, and it was nice to just sit there and talk and let your minds have a rest from the party.    From now on, it would have to sort itself out anyway, because it was too late to change anything, and if something went wrong at this point, you’d just have to go with it.

   After the meal, however, it was time to split up.    Pero would take Babybee with him, while you went to get your hair and make-up done with Abby, after which, your bestie would bring your daughter back to you while he went to a barber and then Dean would help him with the suit.    And then it was pretty much gametime.

   William was gonna go with him to the barber and get a little makeover, or really just a tidying of his head-hair, after all his time in the bunker.    He was living in the country house with Dean and Abby now, so they’d brought him to the barn when they’d left that morning, making it easier for Pero to pick him up.    And getting there, he was astounded at how good it all looked in the daylight.

   Everyone but Will had all been there the night before, putting up the flower decorations, twinkle lights, and all the finishing touches, but it was still something else to see it all come to life under the sun.

   “There’s my boy! How you feeling, son?” Dean greeted him as he stepped into the barn with an impressed whistle.

   “Like the luckiest human being in the world,” he grinned in return, hugging the small mountain of a man.

   “Oh, I do believe you are, Mr. Tovar. Although, I am somewhat biased.”

   “As a father, I think you are allowed to be.”

   “Thank you,” Dean laughed warmly, before the men pulled apart.

   And right then, Mae came waddling through the grass, having made her way across the lawn on her own bare feet, with a watchful eye from her father, of course.

   “Babybee! My sweetest little angel, how are you?” the grandfather giggled, in his own uniquely booming way, and the child was immediately excited.

   “Baba!” she squealed and giggled, and then promptly fell on her butt when her focus was disrupted.

   She’d been quicker to learn how to walk than talk, but mama had unsurprisingly been her first word. Closely followed by baba, which she called both Pero and Dean.

   “Oh, my gosh, you’re getting so big! Soon you’ll be running off doing all the stuff you’re not supposed to do, and then we’ll all be in trouble,” the older man cooed while scooping her up in his big arms.

   “Mm, especially now when her parents will soon be busy with two of you,” the younger man added, making Dean splutter in shock.

   “What!? You guys are pregnant?”

   Ooops… He’d assumed that you’d told your father that the two of you were trying, you always told him everything.    But apparently, you’d been too busy to mention this part.

   “No, not yet… Ay, forgive me. I thought she had told you that we have started working on it,” he sheepishly admitted, but the older man just laughed heartily.

   “Nope. But that’s fantastic news, my boy! The family keeps growing. What a truly wonderful thing,” he chirped, and pulled his son into another hug.

   But as they parted once more, Pero’s eyes went around the room, looking for the only missing piece of the moment.

   “He’s out back, by the treeline,” Dean said, much more mellow as he noticed where the younger man’s focus had gone.

   “He did not wish to come inside?”

   “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what he wishes. It’s been a year and a half since Bee first got through to him, and still, it’s like he actively resists anything that might put a smile on his face,” the older man sighed with a mild shake of his head.

   “Well, let’s leave him be for now. I am sure Abby has left some things for us to do.”

   Together, the three of them put together the finishing touches in preparation for the guests, although Mae mostly just tagged along and babbled.    Their chores included fixing the welcoming drinks, putting the tablecloths out and then setting the tables, making sure all the chairs were accounted for since there weren’t any spares, and checking and double checking the sound systems for the microphones.

   Then the musicians arrived. You’d insisted on a live orchestra instead of a DJ, and that was what you’d gotten. Thirty performers strong, in fact.    And while the men listened to them warm up and test their instruments, they both had to agree that you’d been right. Living music being performed live would never top recorded music blasting through speakers. That was simply a fact.

   Shortly after that, Abby came back to take Babybee over to you so that the boys could start getting ready, and Pero couldn’t help but ask.

   “How does she look?”

   “Happy and very much in love,” was your chosen sister’s answer, and while it wasn’t what he’d meant with the question, it was still the perfect answer.

   “Good,” was all he could think to say in return, and then he darted off to find his brother.

   It took him a minute, because the man had moved from where Dean had suggested he’d been earlier, to sitting just outside the tent where the food was being prepared.  

   “Hey. Ready to go?” he asked once he got close enough to be heard.

   “Sure,” was all the other man replied, getting up and falling in beside Pero on their way back to the car.

   He was no chatterbox, nor particularly positive in general, but that morning he seemed even more down than what was his usual these days.

   “Look, if you don’t want to do this, it’s fine,” the Spaniard reassured him, reiterating what he’d told him half a dozen times already.

   “I know,” Will answered dispassionately, as if literally nothing could ever excite him again.

   Once at the barber shop, both men took their seats beside each other while their barbers got to work, and throughout their visit, William never said a word.    Pero kept up a decent conversation with the young man working on him, who really was a chatterbox and seemed to love all things wedding-related, but after twenty minutes of hitting a stone wall, the other barber gave up, and joined their conversation instead.

   So, by the time they left, the Spaniard was somewhat annoyed with his comrade.

   “Are you even the least bit happy for me?” he asked quietly after parking the car back by the barn, but before stepping out of it.

   “Pero…” the other man sighed.

   “No, tell me honestly: do you want to be here at all today? Because no one is forcing your hand, but if you’re going to be here, then at least try to be part of the love, instead of sitting like a thundercloud in the distance, waiting to block out the sun.”

   Will closed his eyes and let his head fall forwards a bit then, seeming to struggle with something, although what that might be, his brother could only guess at, because the man seemed determined not to share his innermost thoughts with anyone.    For all his progress, he still kept himself cut off from the world around him, rarely even engaging with it even on a superficial level, much less in any meaningful way.

   “I’m not sure that I remember what happiness is, Tov,” he started, still with his eyes closed, but he opened them before continuing, staring out at the fairytale wedding your best friend had created with little more than nature and electricity. “But I see how happy you are, and I want that for you.    I want you to have everything that I never could.”

   “Ay, hermano… I know you do not see this, but you can still have those things too,” Pero tried, but then Will’s eyes fell shut again and he shook his head firmly.

   “No. Even if my heart somehow allowed it, my fear would never let me go there. That’s one part of me that even your wife can’t reach.”

   “Hey, do not get ahead of yourself, she’s not my wife yet.”

   “Sure, she is. Just not legally.”

   That made Pero chuckle, because it was absolutely true, and it was as close to a joke as he’d heard from his old friend in what felt like forever.

<><><><><> 

   Abby returned with Mae after just twenty minutes, at which point, the only thing you had left to do was put the dress on, which was going to be put off for as long as possible to prevent mishaps.    Which meant that there was nothing preventing you from just playing with your daughter for a while.

   You were back home while you waited for the boys to get ready, so all her toys and favourite things were available, and she had you all to herself, with the exception of one very pleased German Shepherd.    Groot had had his own little spa-day while you’d been in hair and make-up, getting bathed, blow-dried and combed until his coat shined, by the local dog-grooming specialist. And he was so proud of his impeccable exterior.

   Although, not too proud to still roll around on the floor and play.    Mae had learned that if she stood up and started walking, the dog would come to her side and let her use him as a crutch, or just keep her from hitting her head against things.    But the thing she loved the most, was if she happened to fall, because then he’d mirror her, dropping to the floor and rolling over as if he too had taken a spill.

   Almost like he knew that she might consider falling a failure, and wanted her to know that there was nothing wrong with falling, because everyone does sometimes.    In any case, it always made her smile when she saw him do that, no matter how sad or upset she might be, but since she was already happy today, it made her laugh hysterically instead.

   Soon enough, though, the door opened, and your father’s voice came booming through the house.    He had quite a tight schedule the poor man, but he seemed to love it. He was used to it, after all, as well as military level planning, and precision execution, so in truth, this was where he really thrived. In the thick of it.

   “Bumblebee? You still here, sweetheart? No cold feet?”

   “In the living room, dad. And my feet are currently too hot,” you called back, and watched him walk in and absorb the sight before him.

   Mae had decided to build a castle out of pillows and blankets, and for some reason, you needed to be the base of this castle, which was why you were on your back on the floor, with about twenty things on top of you, including the dog.

   “Hah, look at that. You might have a future architect here, Bee.”

   “Let’s hope so,” you chirped, just as your daughter realized that her grandfather had stepped in, and immediately abandoned the castle.

   “Go on and get dressed now, Bee. I’ve got everything set up outside, as soon as you’re ready, we’ll get going,” he smiled at you while picking up Mae.

   “Okay. Will you get her changed in the meantime? Her clothes are hanging on the crib.”

   “Yeah, we got it, mama.”

   Your baby had repeatedly proven herself to not like dresses, which was why her wedding outfit consisted of a crème coloured overall, soft and stretchy so that she’d be comfortable, and her favourite sneakers, which were green.    She was gonna have as good a day as possible, and that didn’t require her to look perfect.

   The same could be said for you, but you actually wanted to look a little dolled up.    This was likely to be the only time in your life when you were gonna have an opportunity to play Cinderella at the ball, or Belle at her dance with the prince, and you wanted to take the opportunity to live in a fantasy, just for this one day.

   Still, your makeup wasn’t over the top and while your hair was certainly better tamed than you’d ever manage on your own, it wasn’t tied up in any complicated fashion. Most of it hung freely, with just a few tendrils pulled back so that there’d be something to attach a few small white flowers to.

   The dress, however, was in a league of its own.    It was a sweetheart cut tulle dress, with a top layer of snow-white lace that had been embroidered with leaves and the same type of flowers that were now in your hair.    The skirt wasn’t flared, but there the lace had been bedazzled by thousands of beads and glass diamonds, most thickly gathered at the waist, carrying on down to your mid-thigh, before they started getting more scattered.

   It was a masterpiece, made and tailored just for you, by the wonder woman that was your sister Arabella.

   Stepping out of your room once it was on, your father momentarily lost all his marbles on the floor somewhere, along with his jaw, which was all the proof you needed that it was indeed perfect.    You smiled at him, and his mirroring smile was enough to bring tears of joy to his eyes.

   “Oh, my baby… you’re so beautiful,” he said through the stocking in his throat, while carefully stepping closer to hug you.

   “Thank you, dad. I feel really special today. Just so full of love…” you croaked in return, trying not to let your own tears spill, even though your makeup was waterproof.

   “I know what you mean. So, let’s go celebrate all this love, shall we?” he suggested, stepping back to pick up Mae, who was trying to grab the hem of your dress because it was shiny and much too tempting for baby fingers.

   But you weren’t bothered by her potentially picking a few little sparkles off, so you reached for her once he’d gotten her up, and he handed her to you without complaint.    Instead, he picked up your bag of essentials for the evening, slinging it over his shoulder before grabbing your phone and keys from the shelf in the hall, and then held the door for his girls so that he could lock it for you once you and Groot were outside.

   There was a small train on the back of the dress, just enough to make it fan out behind you, and he was quick to sweep it up while you made your way to the carriage.    Like the true romantic that your father was, he’d insisted on taking you to your wedding by horse and carriage, and it wasn’t some rickety old thing either. It was a retired Royal carriage that he’d bought on auction and restored to its former glory.    A convertible model, black, with silver detailing and deep green velvet on the seats.

   He helped you and Mae get in via the step that fell out whenever the door on the side was opened, letting Groot hop in last, and then he climbed into the coachman’s seat and grabbed the reins.    Happy and Ike were excellent carriage horses, content to trudge along at a moderate pace and would always stay perfectly still whenever they were brought to a stop, needing no groomsmen or helpers.

   Your daughter absolutely loved the ride, and joyously sat in your lap, pointing at everything she could see, for once not speeding past too quickly for her to even make anything out, getting increasingly excited every time you named what she indicated, even though she had no idea what most of it was.    Meanwhile, the dog sat on the seat opposite you, happily letting his tongue catch the wind.

   Since your house was already on the outskirts of town, the ride wasn’t that long, which resulted in you reaching your destination a little too quickly.    But, as it happened, that would turn out to be most fortuitous.    Because while you stopped a bit down the road from the barn, along a stretch that was lined on either side by very old maple and beech trees, a familiar frame came towards you.

   A gangly, middle-aged black man, with a digital camera that probably cost more than your average monthly salary, slung around his neck.

   “Mr. Okusanya… Hi. It’s so good to see you again,” you said, smiling at the memory of the only other time you’d seen him, nervously trying to order a drawing of a diamond-decorated cock, much to Pero’s polite confusion.

   “Thank you for letting me invite myself, Mrs. Tovar.”

   You glossed over the premature use of the name, because you already loved how that sounded, and really, what difference did an hour make?

   “After your kind response to my handicap and the loss of your order, how could I not?” you replied, unable to stop the slight sorrow that always accompanied any reminder of your lost skill and passion, from slipping into your voice and your expression.

   “Oh, never mind that. As it turns out, just voicing that particular interest without being ridiculed or belittled in any way, helped me to be a more confident person.    Thanks to your kindness, I’m getting married too, next year. And I never would’ve dared to tell him anything about that if you hadn’t opened the door for me first, so believe me, I am only ever grateful to you.”

   His words sent a flurry of warmth and compassion through your chest, as well as a slight swell of pride that you’d been able to do something so profound for this man, by just being yourself, leaving you speechless but smiling widely.

   “And on the subject of my gratitude, if I may, I’d very much like to repay you,” he added, after wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. “Will you let me take your wedding photos?”

   Stunned, you just stared at him for a moment, and then nodded your agreement, because it was just such a wonderful thing to offer.    You hadn’t even considered hiring a professional photographer, because you hadn’t felt up for the whole idea of structuring a photoshoot into your schedule and then having a stranger, and essentially a paparazzi, lurking about all day.

   But this wasn’t a stranger. And as a photographer, he was used to nature motifs, including animals which were generally mobile and required him to blend into the background not to startle them away.    Odds were, you’d never even notice him moving around the guests.

   “That’s very kind of you, sir,” your father suddenly entered the conversation, having stayed out of it while you got reacquainted, and because you hadn’t remembered to introduce him.

   “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry!    Amari, this is my father, Dean. Dad, this is one of my former clients, Amari Okusanya,” you hurried to correct your mistake, and then remembered your child, still sitting on your lap. “And this is my daughter Mae.”

   The two men exchanged pleasantries and then Amari suggested taking some photos right there, with the gorgeous trees for a backdrop, while you waited for the clock to strike.    You stepped out of the carriage and followed his instructions, letting him move the skirt of the dress around to experiment with angles and movement, all the while feeling mildly lost since you’d never posed for anyone before.

   But he noticed and suggested taking a few pics with you by the horses, which instantly set you at ease. And then with Groot, then Dean, then all of you, then just you and Mae, and he kept going like that, just keeping you occupied, allowing him to snatch candid photos in between the posed ones.    Until you were suddenly out of time.

<><><><><><> 

   Pero heard the carriage arrive on the road outside the barn. The shoes that he had put on your father’s horses clapping against the pavement in a double rhythm, bringing him his bride and partner in all things.    It made his heart swell just knowing that he was about to have you beside him again, ready to declare to all these witnesses, that you had chosen him.

   He didn’t know who anyone in the room was, save for Abby, Will, Claire, Kate and Cody, but it didn’t matter. They were all there to celebrate your love, and for that, he appreciated each and every one of them.    William had taken the stage with him as his best man, but stood like a statue behind him, participating only with his presence, not his joy or excitement, which Pero could forgive because at least he was there. For a long time, that was more than he’d dared to hope.

   Abby was across from him, on the other side of the altar, ready to free your hands and support you in any way you might need, already smiling with tears in her eyes before you’d even arrived.    The two of you had been through so much together, throughout your lives, and been able to stick together through all of it, creating an unbreakable friendship that he would always cherish and protect.

   The orchestra was lining the entrance of the barn, so when they started playing, it was because you and Dean had told them that it was time.    That you were ready.    So, when the music started, everyone rose to their feet, and Pero sucked in a nervous breath, suddenly unable to see anything but the sunlight that shone through the door.

   Mae was too small to be a flower-girl, but Groot wasn’t.    He came first, walking down the aisle while pulling his little sister in a tiny cart, attached to him via a harness, both of whom Pero had designed and constructed especially for today.    And, ever the princess, Mae smiled and cooed as she was paraded in front of all the fancily dressed guests, all smiling at the adorable scene.

   Then suddenly… there you were.

   As if the sun itself had beamed you into that wide doorway, you seemed to glide into view, shining almost too bright for him to make you out at first, but as you stepped closer, the golden light released you, letting him see all of you.    His breathing slowed even as his heart pounded harder. Because however nervous he’d been before, your presence always soothed him. Even now.

   Unknowingly, he tried to step towards you, but a hand on his elbow held him back, reminding him that there was a procedure to this.    He heard Will’s voice somewhere behind him whisper almost reverently about how beautiful you were, and he could only nod in agreement.    He heard Abby snivel quietly, and saw your eyes turn to her with a tear-filled smile, just as you reached the altar and handed her your small bouquet of wildflowers, picked from around your house and the meadows around the barn.

   Then Dean’s large hand was suddenly on Pero’s shoulder, and he was slightly startled to realize that he’d never even noticed your father walking in beside you.    The older man was a mess of tears and smiles, pulling his adopted son in for a hug before he could bring himself to step aside, and let Pero step up to take his place at your side.    The two men laughed quietly together for a moment, at their own overflowing emotions, and when they pulled apart, you were smiling at them with an equally overwhelmed heart.

   With pride oozing from his every pore, Pero stepped over to you, offering you his arm for support as you climbed up the two steps onto the altar, while your other hand lifted the dress to keep you from tripping.

   “You look so beautiful, my love,” you suddenly said, while Abby fiddled with your skirt so that it wouldn’t twist around your legs.

   He hadn’t expected that hearing your voice would made his heart jump and pinch and bounce with excitement and gratitude, so when his own eyes abruptly filled with tears, he didn’t know what to do except just smile at you.

   “My sun…” was all he managed to choke out in response, but you understood.

   He had always been a star in your orbit. And he always would be.

<><><><><> 

   The entire ceremony was overwhelming for so many reasons.    Walking up that aisle and seeing him standing there, actually in awe of you, was almost more than your heart could bear.    Your ears registered Mae cooing and babbling when Groot brought her to Claire on the front row, next to the empty seat where your father would sit, but your eyes saw only the stranger.

   And in a single second, you saw everything that had happened between you.    From that first unwelcomed kiss, to finding him on your porch, inviting him in, letting him claim you… and everything that had followed because of it.    So much of it had been bad, but you’d still suffer through all of it again, a hundred times, for the love and joy and wonder that it had brought into your life.

   Then he was taking your hand, and his touch brought you back to the moment, to the reality of the man before you. The man you’d chosen, risked everything for, and allowed yourself to love without boundaries or restraints.    The words came of their own, from some part of your brain that you weren’t in control over right that second.

   You wondered if your face mirrored his in that moment. If you too looked as though the protective dam around your heart had burst open, flooding the air around you with rainbows, sparkles and sunshine.    You hoped so.

   The priest took over then, and as per your instructions, kept it short, sweet and light-hearted, as churchly rituals could so easily become stuffy and stale.    But this pastor was young and had a modern view of church, believing it to be something that needed to adapt to the present, as all things did, and had no trouble drawing laughter from the crowd and thereby stripping the ceremony of all nervousness or tension.

   You’d written your own vows, and just getting through them without forgetting every other word became another humorous spectacle, but one that you both felt entirely comfortable with.    Because how were you supposed to say such powerful and incredible things to one another, in front of a hundred people, without getting flustered? It was impossible to begin with, so there was nothing to do but laugh at it and soldier on.

   The engagement ring that he’d made for you had been made of steel, polished until it shined and then engraved with a planet.    And the wedding rings told the story to completion. Identical in every way, except that yours added a star next to your planet, while his depicted that same star, but falling into a symbol of infinity.    So simple, and so perfect.

   And then, finally, there was the kiss.

   The priest had only barely gotten through the sentence when Pero surged forwards. And you weren’t far behind yourself, resulting in a minor crash of your bodies against each other, and more laughter from the crowd, followed by cheering and applause.    But you barely even heard it over the rushing of your blood and the happy pounding of your heart.

   His arms held you so tightly to him, even long after the kiss had ended, unwilling to let you slip even an inch away from him. But not out of fear or possessiveness.    He just didn’t wanna let you go. He wanted to feel your joy just as much as you wanted to feel his. To touch your skin and feel how it warmed with the desired contact.    But most of all, both of you just wanted to live in that moment and never let it go.

<><><><><><> 

   The guests saw nothing strange at all about being asked to bring their folding chairs with them to their seats, and without complaints, grabbed one each and started making their way outside to the tables, where the food had been served during the end of the ceremony.    You hadn’t scheduled any speeches or really, anything at all past this point. From now on, it was just a feast, where the goal was simply for everyone to enjoy themselves.

   There were no seating arrangements and no folder with any program for anyone to read or stick to. Just good food, an orchestra that took requests, plenty of wine and beer for those that fancied it, and an announcement from you that everyone was welcome to dig in.    That was it. The rest would happen if it happened, and however it wanted to happen.

   During the meal, Pero really struggled to look at anything but you, or occasionally Mae when her sounds drew his attention. But she was with her grandfather and as happy as any kid could be, so his focus kept coming back to you.    He found himself watching the silliest little details about you, like how you held your fork, or how your throat moved when you chewed. The tiny hairs on your arms that fluttered in the breeze.

   Not one drop of alcohol crossed his lips, and yet he felt utterly drunk all day.

   “If I may have your attention, dear guests…” Dean eventually found the microphone, unable to keep from giving a speech to his only daughter on her special day. “I can’t let this occasion pass, without saying a few things.”

   His rich, strong voice carried to every ear across the open area, and everyone fell into a deeply respectful and complete silence.

   “A father’s greatest fear in life, is that his children won’t be safe. But when that life is good, and his children are safe, his fear instead becomes about their happiness. And for a long time, I thought I knew what a happy Bumblebee looked like.    But as it would turn out, I was very wrong.”

   He paused then, needing to swallow against the tears that were already coming.

   “When Pero entered her life, my daughter became something new to my eyes. Something I’d never seen before. It would take me some time to figure out what that was, but eventually, I realized that it was in fact, security.    It was the comforting and effortless happiness of knowing that her heart is safely held by someone else’s hands. Someone who truly values that gift and without hesitation, returns it.    Now, that doesn’t mean that life is suddenly perfect. But it does mean that the good moments, truly are as good they can be, and that’s something to be grateful for.    That’s what you give to my baby girl, Pero, and that is why I will always love you, my son.”

   If he had planned to add more to that speech, that plan was halted then, because that was as much as he could get through before the emotions became too overwhelming.    And not just for him.    Unable to let such amazing words go without acknowledgement, Pero rose and stepped over to the man, pulling him into a strong hug that saw them both break down for a minute.

   But when they pulled apart, it was with smiles in their features and joy in their hearts, even if their faces were drenched in tears.    And you were right there behind him, throwing your arms around your father’s neck as soon as it was free, letting him lift you off the ground with how tightly he held you.    The crowd applauded again, and there weren’t many dry eyes among them.

   After that, the late afternoon flowed in its own kind of rhythm, sometimes slow and mellow, with conversation and mingling, and sometimes energetic and loud, filled with dance and laughter.    It rose and fell, over and over, but Pero seemed to be sailing his own river in the middle of that ocean, remaining steadfast at the same pace, no matter how rowdy the seas churned around him. Undoubtedly lulled by his continued drunkenness on love.

   Until Groot suddenly placed his head in his lap and whined unhappily.

   The sound was so unexpected that it made him pause and turn his entire attention to the animal, and when he did, Groot got up and started walking away from the festivities.    He stopped when the human didn’t follow, looking back at him with another whine, so he got up and fell in behind the dog, wondering what he could possibly want to show him at that particular place and time.

   The canine led him across the entire field that connected to the barn, passed the horses that had been set free to graze while the festivities carried on, all the way down to the creek, the same one that trailed past your house, further up the road.    And when they got there, Groot indicated something of interest down by the bigger rocks that were closest to the water.

   “Of course, it must be down there…” he sighed, looking at the dog with a quizzical brow. “Do I have to? Can you not go down there and bring whatever it is you want me to see up here?”

   The animal just kept looking at the rocks, slowly wagging his tail while he waited for the human to get the message.

   “Fine. But just so you know, this suit was very expensive,” he griped as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

   Carefully climbing down the slippery bank, he miraculously managed to reach the bottom without any mishap, and started looking for whatever the dog was indicating.    At first glance, he missed it, because he wasn’t expecting it to be something that connected to his past. But once he saw the small hidden package, he already knew what it was going to be, and his heart skipped a beat.

   At the Falcons, they’d been taught that if they ever got separated from their partner and were fatally injured, to hide an identifying mark within a scarf or sock, and then use nature to conceal it.    They hadn’t worn dog-tags or anything specifically identifying like that, but their partners had known their every item of clothing and every one of their possessions.

   And since William had still refused to rejoin society, Pero was very much aware of exactly how few things the man now owned, and exactly how each of those things looked.    A worn and frayed cap that had once belonged to a young Dean, so old now that it no longer had any colour, had been bundled up and jammed down between two larger rocks, and then almost completely covered by mud and leaves.

   He pulled it out, placing it on one of the larger rocks before gently prying it open to find a neatly folded note, protected by a plastic bag, inside.    Sorrow filled his soul as he stuffed the bag into his pocket and started climbing back up the bank, somehow managing to escape without muddying up his pants, only to then sit down in the soft grass back at the edge of the field.

   Groot instantly knew that he wasn’t doing well, and sat down beside him, leaning his entire body against Pero’s side, for support as well as comfort.    He gratefully scratched the dog’s chest for a few beats, to thank him, but also to delay opening the note.    Because even if it wasn’t as bad as he feared, it wasn’t going to be anything good.

   He hadn’t seen Will at the party for a while, but he’d assumed that the man had just wandered off to escape the positive atmosphere for a bit, since he wasn’t susceptible to it, which probably made it grating to listen to and be surrounded by.    He really hadn’t thought that something like this might happen. Especially not now, after so much time had passed and so much progress had been made.

   But there was no avoiding it. He’d have to read it sooner or later, so he might as well get it over with now, when the atmosphere of love that was waiting for him back by the barn, would help him endure whatever pain this would cause him.    So, he pulled the bag out and ripped the plastic open, shoving it back in his pocket so it wouldn’t fly off on the wind while he unfolded and read the piece of paper, unbiddenly recognizing that it was a sheet from the shopping-notepad on Dean’s fridge.

   Which meant that he hadn’t done this on impulse. It had been planned, since early that morning, at the latest. But probably much further back than that.

   ~Pero,    I know that this will hurt you, especially today, but I can’t put it off any longer.    My life was supposed to end that day, with them. Everything after that has been wrong. Just layer upon layer of wrong.    I didn’t have it in me to end it back then, and I still don’t. But I’m also not gonna fight for a life that isn’t meant to be. I’ll leave my fate to nature, and if she decides to end me, I’ll finally get to rest. If she doesn’t, then I guess that’s just my penance.    Either way, this is our ending, brother.    I never deserved you, but I have loved you all the same.

   Please, tell your wife that I will forever carry her bravery and kindness in my heart. Tell her I’m sorry.    I am so very sorry.    Will~

   He read it three times before he could accept it. And then another three before the tears made it too hard to see.    The pain made him want to blame the man for giving up, after all your effort spent trying to save him, to give him a chance to live again. It made him want to scream and curse his brother to hell for making all that struggle and heartache and misery pointless.

   But he couldn’t, because that wasn’t true.    The harsh truth was that Will had never been given a choice. You and Pero had decided to try and undo Lang’s conditioning, unable to trust anything he’d said while under another man’s thumb.    And then, when you’d finally started breaking through, the two of you still hadn’t believed him when he’d asked you to stop.

   No matter how much progress he’d made, you had never heard him when he’d said that he didn’t want this life.    Because you hadn’t wanted to hear it. Either of you.    And that now left the Spaniard with two questions.

   Should he wipe his tears away, plaster a fake smile on his lips and go back to try and let the positive atmosphere purge his sorrows? Or should he take you aside and tell you what had happened, ruining the day for both of you?    But he already knew the answer, because there was no way that you wouldn’t see the pain in his eyes, no matter how well he tried to hide it.

   You knew about the conversation that had taken place between him and William that day when you’d invited him to the house, so you knew that he hadn’t been doing so good.    Still, Pero felt certain that this would somehow hurt you even more than it did him. Because to him, his brother represented his only good childhood memories, the only positive influence on his entire existence prior to meeting you.

   But to you, he represented something far greater.    Even with how briefly you’d known him, the poor man had somehow become tethered to your sense of hope, your belief in miracles and the healing power of love and acceptance.    And your husband feared that losing that was going to rip a hole through your soul.

   Even so, he couldn’t lie to you. Not today, when you were celebrating togetherness.

   He got up and started walking back, wiping his tears and straightening his tie on the way, doing his best not to let all the guests see how hard he was fighting to hold himself together, as he made his way through the crowd to find you.    But you knew at first glance, before he’d even reached you, and came to his side to follow him out of earshot from everyone.

   He couldn’t say it, so he showed you the note instead, and watched with a sinking heart as the words drilled through your being like blunt swords.    You didn’t say anything at first. You just closed your eyes and tried to breathe. Tried to keep it from overpowering you.    And you managed it a lot better than he had.

   “He’s gone,” you whispered, but it felt like you were saying it to yourself.

   As though you were trying to tell yourself, convince yourself, that this was the new reality and that you had to let it be.

   “I don’t know what to do…” Pero admitted, gesturing blindly towards the guests and the party, feeling so torn between the joy of the wedding and the sorrow of this unexpected tragedy.

   “There’s nothing we can do,” you said, and your voice was so sad, but also unexpectedly strong. “He’s gone.”

   It seemed that you had decided to lean on love, and to let that hold you up, at least until this day was over. And in your surprising resolve, he somehow found a path back to the light of his heart.    And as the day turned to evening, and the world darkened, revealing the thousands of twinkle lights that hung above the crowd and throughout the barn, the two of you did somehow manage to find your way back to a resigned sort of peace.

   Perhaps in the knowledge that he was still alive, or in the fact that at the very least, neither of you had made this decision for him.    That for the first time in a very long time, William Garin was free.

-=¤=-

   “Daddy!”

   “Hey, Mae-Mae! How was school?” he asked as his daughter came bouncing towards him, smiling widely as she waved a piece of paper in her hand.

   “It was fun! Look! We made pictures of our hands!” she excitedly explained while handing him the picture.

   “Oh, wow! That does sound like fun. Maybe we should ask mama if she has any fun paint at the shop, and we could all make pictures of our hands.”

   “Yeah!”

   “Yeah, let’s do that. But right now, we must go home and let Groot out.”

   “Okay, daddy.”

   He opened the car door for her, and since she was three years old now, she could climb in and up into the car-seat by herself.

   “Hi, Jace!” she called once she was in her seat, but Pero gently hushed her.

   “Shh… He is sleeping, angel. We will wake him when we get home.”

   “Oh. Sorry,” she whispered, trying to peer at her little brother at the other end of the backseat.

   “It’s good that you are excited to see him, just remember that he is still very small and has lots of growing to do.”

   “And we grow best in our sleep, right daddy?” she proudly repeated what you’d told her on numerous occasions when she’d been trying to stay up past her bedtime.

   “That’s right.”

   He booped her nose and then made sure she was safely buckled up before closing the door and getting in the driver’s seat.    Once home, he let her out first, handing her the house keys once she was on the ground, before rounding the car to pick up his nine-month-old who loved nothing more than to sleep, and especially in the car.

   “Hey, dormilón… time to wake up, we’re home,” he cooed once the boy was in his arms.

   Meanwhile, Mae was already unlocking the front door to let the patient Shepherd out, giggling as he playfully bounced around her before running over to greet Pero and make sure that everything was alright with the family, before he felt okay to go relieve himself.

   While they waited for you to get home, Pero played with Mae while simultaneously tidying up the house, getting dinner started, changing Jace’s diaper, and doing some laundry.    The trashcan in the kitchen was full, so while his son had gone back to sleep, he told Groot to keep an eye on the girl while he took the garbage out to the bin.    He had absolute faith that the dog wouldn’t let his daughter anywhere near anything dangerous in the minute that it would take him to get back.

   But just as he’d dumped the bag into the bin, a movement to his left caught his eye.    It was so small that he assumed it to be a trick of his own senses, which seemed to be confirmed when he looked towards the imagined movement and found nothing there.    Dismissing it, he turned to walk back inside, only to find himself stopping halfway there. And this time, he wasn’t imagining anything.

   Before he’d even turned, he knew that it was real. As though the pressure in the air had suddenly changed, he felt the man’s presence.    Slowly turning his head, his long lost brother came into view between the trees. Alive, and by the looks of it, doing alright.    A tear-filled smile spread across Pero’s face, and then the man was gone.

   He waited until after dinner, when the kids were tucked in and sleeping soundly and the two of you were huddled up on the couch together, trying to stay awake after a long day, to tell you about it.

   “I saw him today,” he said softly into your hair, as you rested your head against his chest.

   “Who?” you answered, sounding comfortably sleepy.

   “William.”

   It took you a second to absorb that, and then you sat up so that you could turn your body around and look at him. As if you needed to see his eyes to believe that it could be true.

   “He only gave me a glimpse, but… he’s alive, Bee,” he continued once you could see him, and suddenly your entire being seemed to shine.

   You didn’t say a word, and you didn’t need to. He could see how that part of your soul, that part that he’d been so afraid would get ripped to pieces by losing Will, came back together right then.    You’d been so composed after you’d read that note that he had come to believe that he’d been wrong about how you’d take it. But now, a year and a half later, he could see how you healed as your faith in miracles was restored.

   You didn’t know it yet, but as your children would grow up, a mysterious stranger would watch them from the shadows.    Time and time again, he would shield them from harm in an ever more dangerous world, and even though they’d get frightened on the few occasions that they’d happen to catch a glimpse of him, their father would always tell them to trust him.

   And when they’d ask him why in the world they should do that, he would tell them the three most important lessons that life with you had taught him:

   “Because even a killer can be a good person. Even a mother can be a terrible person. And even a stranger can be a brother.”

THE END

===============

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 10: The Hunt Begins

This post probably has spoilers for the entire Wheel of Time series, so if that's not what you're into, don't keep reading.

This chapter starts us out with the Horn of Valere icon again, which... hell even if you shouldn't be reading this post because of the spoilers, you can probably piece together why a chapter called "The Hunt Begins" has it.

He kept his mouth shut, though. It was Lord Ingtar’s command; as friendly as he had been to Rand, he still would not appreciate a shepherd giving advice.

Rand demonstrating his keen leadership skills by being aware of the limitations of horses is both a good jibe at fantasy novels of the time (where horses needed less rest than the average car and had better range and mileage) and a nice way of contrasting how towards the end he won't be giving a fuck about anyone's limitations and push them all much harder than Ingtar is pushing these poor horses.

Rand tried to ride with Mat and Perrin, but when Rand let his horse drop back to them, Mat nudged Perrin, and Perrin reluctantly galloped to the head of the column with Mat.

I feel like this little bit of Mat being extra petty about this carries a lot of people's dislike of early Mat, because without the dagger he's actually not that bad even now.

Uno looked at Rand with his one eye, then shrugged and climbed into his saddle.

Uno isn't afraid to voice his opinion to his superiors 'cause he's a cool dude. He also is pretty convinced Rand is a lord too and thus could put Ingtar in his place - and probably has noticed the glances Rand's been giving the horses and is well aware that the boy agrees with him. I wonder how many of this ranging party specifically think that Ingtar being in charge is just the convenient fiction for this outlander lord who wants to pretend to be a shepherd. Like obviously Ingtar doesn't think that but Uno might...

“Do you like to run, Rand?” Loial laughed. “I do. I was the fastest in Stedding Shangtai. I outran a horse, once.”

That poor horse must have died of a heart attack shortly thereafter, what with the whole running at top speed and also having a huge thing like an Ogier keeping up with it.

It was not hard—there were few personal bundles among the supplies—but when he had it open, he let out a shout that brought every man in the camp erect with sword in hand.

Everyone of course just thinks Rand's bitching about the coats is him being pissy that Moiraine won't let him play at being a shepherd.

Also it's adorable how Moiraine thinks she's fulfilling prophecy with the heron-marked jackets.

I can always go naked, he thought bitterly.

*desperately presses random symbols on the nearest Portal Stone to find the nudist!Rand Mirror World*

“We didn’t bloody bring enough for you to be spilling it on the flaming ground.” The one-eyed man looked at Rand and left. Masema rubbed his ear, but his glare followed Rand.

So Masema's obviously pissy about this upstart foreigner Aiel-look-a-like putting on airs and terrifying everyone in the camp, but Uno's just doing whatever it takes to get a chance to challenge Rand to a friendly duel.

“I ask no questions, mind. If Lan Dai Shan and Moiraine Sedai want to say you are from Andor, from the Two Rivers, then you are. But Masema can’t get the look of the Aiel out of his head, and when he sees you. . . .”

It's really fascinating how Masema's perspective on Rand does such a huge 180. Bruh is an absolute fanatic about whatever his beliefs are, they just aren't necessarily logical evolutions from each other.

“I grew up with him, though you’d never know it now. You put this Aiel nonsense in his head on top of what’s already there, and the Light knows what we’ll have. An Aiel lord, maybe.”

Mat: Absolute savage and accidental prophet.

But they do let the Tuatha’an, the Traveling People, cross the Waste. And they don’t see Ogier as enemies, either, though I doubt any of us would want to go out into the Waste.

It's also a nice bit of realism that as soon as someone tries to simplify the Other as seeing the world purely in terms of themselves and their enemies, someone else can point out that no, it's not really that simple. It's not even really the case that the Aiel see the Wetlanders as enemies exactly, since they clearly could have engaged in warfare against them long ago and won.

When Rand finally settled down for the night, his head hummed with unwanted thoughts. Image of an Aielman. Moiraine Sedai wants to say you’re from the Two Rivers. Aiel ravaged all the way to Tar Valon. Born on the slopes of Dragonmount. The Dragon Reborn.

Bro can't even stay in denial anymore, though he does try a little. At this point it would literally take one more person calling him Aiel for him to snap though.

“Is this what a Darkfriend camp looks like? Smells a bit, but I can’t say it looks any different from anybody else’s.” He kicked at one of the ash heaps, knocking out a piece of burned bone, and stooped to pick it up. “What do Darkfriends eat? Doesn’t look like a sheep bone, or a cow.”

The one way in life that Mat isn't lucky is that if he can lose his dignity in literally any way, he absolutely will. It's where all his bad dice rolls go.

“We’ll waste no time burying Darkfriends,” Ingtar growled. “We ride south.” He suited his own words almost before they were out of his mouth.

Oftentimes, truly hateful vehemence comes from those who are closest to that which they despise. Just saying.

He reminded them of the charge the Amyrlin Seat had given them, to recover the Horn of Valere, and let nothing bar their way. He spoke of the glory they would have, their names remembered in story and history, in gleemen’s tales and bards’ songs, the men who found the Horn.

Ironically, we don't know the names of the whole party, so that didn't really work for them.

“I don’t like the smell of this place,” Perrin muttered as they came among the houses. Hurin gave him a look, and he stared back until Hurin dropped his eyes. “It smells wrong.”

Perrin the Yellow-Eyed Wolf Boy: Don't think we're the same, nose freak!

“Don’t frighten her!” Ingtar shouted. “Uno, we need information. The Light blind you, Uno, don’t frighten her!” The one-eyed man disappeared through the open door. Ingtar raised his voice again. “We will not harm you, good lady. We are Lord Agelmar’s oathmen, from Fal Dara. Do not be afraid! We will not harm you.”

I wonder if Lanfear really meant to be seen here to increase the sense of unease or if she was totally just going, "It won't hurt if I take a little peak at Lews through the window, these dumb third agers probably don't even know what up is, oh crap!"

“I fear the Darkfriends took them, Rand,” Loial said slowly. He grimaced, almost a snarl with his broad nose like a snout. “For the Trollocs.” Rand swallowed and wished he had not asked; it was never pleasant to think on how Trollocs fed.

Rand: They're okay right?

Loial: They. Were. Eaten. By. Demons. We're. Hunting. Demons. DEMONS!

He's so patient with the country boy.

“My Lord, you must see for yourself. The big stoneoak, fifty paces south from the landing. I cannot say the words. You must see it yourself.”

Jesus, it's like a Star Trek episode.

Mat waited until the last minute, when one of the Shienarans was untying the ferry, before he kicked his horse and crowded aboard. “I have to come sooner or later, don’t I?” he said, breathless, to no one in particular. “I have to find it.”

It's kind of a shame Mat didn't get any POVs in this book, because whatever the hell is going on in his head has to be a lot more interesting than the fandom gives him credit for. This is one of at least two big internal struggles we hear almost nothing about. Is he extra unhappy with Rand because he thinks that unlike him and Perrin, he's only benefiting from the adventure they're on? Does he think Rand's being selfish by being all, "Fuck you guys, I'm out" while Mat desperately wants out (he always does) but is forced to admit here that he has no future that doesn't pass through the Dagger?

“This is how we left home,” Perrin said suddenly. “At Taren Ferry. The ferrymen’s boots clunking on the deck, and the water gurgling around the ferry. This is how we left. It will be worse, this time.”

Likewise it sucks that we don't get any fun Perrin POVs just yet because he too is clearly going through all kinds of bullshit and Rand's even less aware of it than he is of Mat's stuff. "How can it be worse?" he asks, as if there's a Baerlon waiting for them only a week out. As if they have the world's most competent Aes Sedai/Warder duo at their side. As if Egwene is there, and Nynaeve to join soon, to help them think of home. As if all three boys aren't already changed permanently by what's happened but are nowhere near done with their transformations.

Rand's hilariously oblivious sometimes, you know? And so's Mat, since he agrees.

Then he recognized the two faces. Changu, and the other man who had been on guard with him. Nidao. Eyes staring, teeth bared in a rictus of pain. They had lived a long time after it began.

Poor bastards.

“Cut them down,” Ingtar said harshly. He hesitated a moment, then added, “Bury them. We cannot be sure they were Darkfriends. They could have been taken prisoner. They could have been. Let them know the last embrace of the mother, at least.”

Even Ingtar's had character growth this chapter! Is he already realizing that his extremism means he deserves the same ignominy and is softening himself in the hopes of mercy for himself? Is he genuinely uncertain as to Changu and Nidao's affiliation (perhaps they weren't in his sect of Darkfriends or even really were innocent) and thus erring on the side of kindness? Hard to say!

“Shienarans believe we all came from earth, and must return to earth. They never use coffins or shrouds, and the bodies are never clothed. The earth must hold the body. The last embrace of the mother, they call it. And there are never any words except ‘The Light shine on you, and the Creator shelter you. The last embrace of the mother welcome you home.’ ”

The Shienarans seem to have a very prototypical Earth Mother belief that will no doubt blossom into that very concept given enough time. It seems pretty early for that though; either Jordan thinks Earth Mother is very universal or he expected that there'd be some extra steps along the way (perhaps eventually the descendant organizations of Aes Sedai / Wise Ones etc. become the monopoly on the Singing?)

“Then who shot the arrow at—at the Amyrlin?” Rand swallowed. Who shot at me? Loial said nothing.

Lucky for Rand, Loial's not street smart enough to realize that his stuttering isn't a natural effect of the horrifying treatment of the corpses but because of a near slip. He's also not street smart enough to realize that Ingtar did the Dog Gate slaying, which further points to the innocence of these two poor bastards. But on the other hand I already said they were guilty so they're definitely burning in hell. Can't change my mind. Looks weak.

“They saved Lord Agelmar at Tarwin’s Gap,” he said. Several of the lancers nodded.

Ingtar's probably extra uncomfortable about this because his Darkfriend orders at the time were to get Agelmar killed or something.

Occasionally Rand saw what might have been a farmhouse in the distance, and once what he thought was a village, with smoke rising from chimneys a few miles off and something flashing white in the sun, but the land near them stayed empty of human life, long swathes of grass dotted with brush and occasional trees, with now and again a small thicket, never more than a hundred paces across.

Fascinating that the villages of Shienar, which presumably face all kinds of population problems what with the state of eternal warfare and all, manage to be denser and more prosperous than people living in this relatively decent grassland where there's no military pressures on them at all.

“It is not there any longer, Builder. When Hawkwing died, the ones who fought over his empire could not bear to leave a monument to a victory of his, even if it did not mention his name. There’s nothing left but the mound where it stood. In three or four days we can see that, at least.”

Maybe the bad juju of tearing down a perfectly good monument mixed with all the contaminating Trolloc blood led to them all dying out en masse, you know?

“I’ve seen an old map,” Rand replied in a tight voice. “I know about the nations that aren’t there anymore. Maredo, and Goaban, and Caralain. But there wasn’t any Hardan on it.”

Well that's very confusing, because all of those nations collapsed before Hardan. Must be a shit map.

Crops failed, or trade failed. People failed. Something failed in each case, and the nation dwindled.

I wonder if the Dark One's been able to affect the weather to some degree or another this whole time and only once the first seal broke was he able to pull out the "eternal winter over the whole land" gambit. It would explain just how badly humanity's been doing the past thousand years, with the long game finally paying off.

We are being swept away, humankind. Swept away like flotsam on a flood. How long until there is nothing left but the Borderlands? How long before we, too, go under, and there is nothing left but Trollocs and Myrddraal all the way to the Sea of Storms?

And so Ingtar explains why he fell to the Shadow - but even without all of the upheaval Rand brings, we've already got some clear rumblings that the game was going to change and that Ingtar's giving into despair was a personal failing. Elayne was being set up to be an Aes Sedai queen of Andor, ruling for hundreds of years and hopefully keeping the land unified. Pedron Niall wanted to restore Almoth to its former glory - under his hand, but still. The Seanchan invasion would have, without interruption, restored "civilization" to a good deal of the wilderness.

Also points to Ingtar for some realistic blind spots in another way: he assumes the Borderlands will be the last to fall even though the most recent national failing was Malkier.

There was no gate in the one opening he could see in the wall, but he supposed it could be blocked easily enough with a cart or wagon.

Honestly with population density and armed banditry being as rare as it is, blocking the gate may genuinely not be something these people feel they need to resort to.

Cairhien did claim this land, once the last King of Hardan died. All the way to the Erinin, they claimed it. They could not hold it, though. They gave up the claim nearly a hundred years ago.

Well if the Cairhieniens wanted it, and the former Hardani wanted it, what exactly was the issue? Were the tax collectors just unable to make it this far north consistently?

The table was set for a meal, ladder-back chairs gathered around, some plates already served. A few flies buzzed above bowls of turnips and peas, and more crawled on a cold roast sitting in its own congealed grease. There was a slice half carved from the roast, the fork still standing stuck in the meat and the carving knife lying partway in the platter as if dropped. Rand stepped inside. Blink.

Look I'm just gonna say it. The blinking and the flickering is some of the top tier Wheel stuff and people would have been infinitely more forgiving of the slog if it involved more of it. Even if the only thing flickering about Elayne's bath scene was that every time she blinked the fragrance of the soap she was using changed, people would have eaten that shit up and rated Crossroads of Twilight 7 out of 5 stars.

Rand could not move. The flies buzzing over the table sounded louder. His breath made a cloud in front of his mouth.

The flies are pretty strongly emphasized in this sequence, which make me wonder if they're connected to whatever weird magic Fain was using in this scene.

Also worth noting that originally this was supposed to be Lanfear's trap, but that this got changed. Frankly it's a damn shame she couldn't take time out of her stalker ex practices to quickly kill Fain before he became an actual kerfuffle.

Suddenly he was tearing at . . . something. He did not know what, or how. Cobwebs made of steel. Moonbeams carved from stone. They crumbled at his touch, but he knew he had not touched anything. They shriveled and melted with the heat that surged through him, heat like a forge fire, heat like the world burning, heat like—

Fain really breaks the magic systems, doesn't he? It's way less coherent than the established magical systems And yet Rand's use of saidin manages to take care of things.

Those black clothes, blacker than black, had never been worn by any human. The wind flapped an end of the cloak caught behind the body—which it did not always, he knew too well; the wind did not always touch those clothes—but there had never been any eyes in that pale, bloodless face.

I love how terrifying this early Fain stuff is, which really just makes it all the more frustrating that he completely loses all relevance as the series goes on. Book 7 Fain could never be this cool. Book 14 Fain couldn't even get into the same sentence as. These other Fains. What was Jordan planning on doing with him? Why did he lose the plot so thoroughly? Will we ever find something in his notes that makes it make sense?

We'll probably never know. Oh well. Next time: more hunting!

[anonymous-eggy]

Misc. Fae and Gwydion Headcanons!

since courting the crown wont give the lore we deserve 😤

It was mentioned that Fae don’t need much sleep, but whenever you and him are together and you need sleep, Gwydion loves laying with you and holding you while you rest. Could he be doing other things? Yeah, but his favorite thing is being around you.

He’ll read or simply lay there thinking about how lovely it is to hold you.

The only reason he wouldn’t be laying with you is if something important comes up that requires his attention. If he needs to leave and won’t be back by the time you wake up, he leaves you a cute little note for you and gives you a loving kiss on the forehead.

It was mentioned that Fae parties often last days. Obviously, there’s no way you’d be able to party for so long, and Gwydion knows that well. The moment he senses you need to get away and get some rest, the two of you sneak off.

When I imagine Fae parties, I think of something similar to a renaissance festival. There are archery competitions, music, dancing, games, kids running around with ribbons.

When it gets darker, there are bonfires, more dancing, and food. Stories are traded and everything is still particularly high energy.

After visiting you in Arvore and experiencing how slowly, yet pleasantly things move there, he finds himself wanting to step away from Fae parties every now and then. He loves the energy and indulgence, but sometimes he just needs a little break with you.

Which is all the easier if you’re the type of person who also needs to step away from time to time.

You can absolutely bet he’s gonna be showing you how the Fae dance and party though!

Even though Gwydion was considered quite distant, Fae are very much connected, which is why humans really wouldn’t consider him distant. Friends and family often bathe together, and stranger danger is pretty much nonexistent because no one is strangers to eachother.

Sometimes Gwydion forgets this when he’s with you. It just slips his mind that humans are more strict, in a way, with who you bathe with and who you’re “allowed” to be vulnerable with

Which leads to some amusing situations early on in your relationship that involves you being flustered, but not necessarily uncomfortable with how casual he is with that stuff.

The endearing thing about it is that he doesn’t forget that when he’s around any human except for you. He just completely forgets with you because of how fast you guys connected (even if it was because of magic).

Compared to the strict environment you grew up in, Gwydion is like a breath of fresh air; an open field you can stretch out in and just let yourself be.

During the transition to a new year, Isla del Strella has a tradition of shooting shining arrows through the sky to celebrate Astrellio. It is said that every single year, Astrellio responds with shooting stars of his own, marking the beginning of the new year

During this transition to the new year, it is tradition for elders to shoot off arrows alongside children, to symbolize the passing of generations.

It’s a mix of formal and rowdy. How Fae somehow balance this so perfectly? You may never know.

But the first time you experience it? How can you not love it? Even as the only human there, you don’t feel out of place.

And, to be honest, Gwydion finds these events even more enjoyable with you around. Seeing you in his realm, looking at these things that are normal to him with such wonder and joy makes him feel all warm inside.

He often finds himself asking you what you think of it. He can feel how you feel, but he wants to hear the thoughts that accompany such wonderful feelings.

Your thoughts, your feelings, give him an entirely new perspective on almost everything about the realm he grew up in. The realm he is the leader of. Somehow, you have something to say or feel about every new thing that he had never thought or felt about it.

Of course, with visiting the land of the Fae, you get to see all sides of them.

Gwy is probably one of the least mischievous Fae you know compared to the others. Of course, you’re just as clever.

“May I have your name?” A Fae boldly asks.

Gwydion opens his mouth to stop the trickery, but your amused laughter cuts him off.

“You may not have it, but you may know it,” you respond slyly, earning a bright smile from the Fae.

“Oh! Oh they’re as clever as the rumors say! I wasn’t gonna keep it anyway, I know better than to be so rude. Worry not, Gwydion.”

The Faefolk are tricky, but they aren’t malicious. Nothing to worry about.

lastly, since you visit Isla del Strella more often, you find yourself with quite a few fae friends. While Gwydion is busy with his tasks that you aren’t much help with, you and your new friends will have fun running in fields, napping in the moonlight, and making eachother flower crowns.

[captaingondor]

@valiantarcher suggested Rinnyx and Cypren, and I went right to this "missing scene" - something I considered writing, but other scenes ended up serving the purpose. Currently non-canon, technically, but like, it could be canon. And then I decided to write it from Cypren's perspective just to get a different look at Rinnyx.

***

The Emperor’s translator found me on the day before the imperial party was set to depart, not long after the coronation. I had been avoiding any engagements but those I was absolutely meant to attend, my purpose here being done, and at those of course he was always working, no chance to speak to me - certainly not without the Emperor himself hovering over our shoulders. Not that he would have understood us, but it would have put a damper on the conversation all the same.

It would have reminded me too forcefully that Rinnyx Glade was a close and personal friend of Emperor Seyetto, which would have made me a little less inclined to be open to friendship with him myself. When the Emperor was not right there, it was easier not to hold it against him. The Emperor was still a man, if that was far removed from all that he was to me, and a man must have friends, and those friends may well be reasonable and good-hearted people - Rinnyx certainly seemed to be. There was no reason he ought not be friends with a young man who had been his schoolmate. And for his part, he seemed not to hold my having been on the opposite side of war from his homeland and his friend against me, so I felt I did owe him the same courtesy. All the same, I did not particularly want to think about Emperor Seyetto’s personal life and friendships.

So I was glad that Rinnyx had found the place in the city I was staying and come to call in his time off - which must be very minimal, the Emperor did not seem to use any secondary translators that I had observed. I might have wondered how I had earned such distinction, but a few conversations with Rinnyx had painted a picture of a man who cared little for rank, and my status as a political pariah meant nothing to him.

A bit ironic, that.

“I’ve heard you’ll be going to Leska,” he said, casually, after we had exchanged our greetings and made some polite small talk over tea. He had a gentleman’s manners, if not a gentleman’s birth. And he had probably known that I was going to Leska before I did.

I sighed. “Yes, off where I can’t cause any trouble. I assume that was the reasoning. Well, it would be a lie to say I’m looking forward to it, but perhaps I can count myself lucky I’m not losing my head for treason.”

Rinnyx looked uncomfortable at that. Perhaps he disliked thinking of Seyetto the Emperor as much as I disliked thinking of Seyetto the man. Not that I particularly liked thinking of Seyetto the Emperor, either, but I had built something of an identity around opposing him. It was easier to oppose an idea than a man.

“Well, that was threatened,” I said mildly, as though the thought created no terror in me at all. Many think me fearless, for how boldly I take my stand, but let me assure you I do fear losing my head. “Not in so many words, I’ll grant, but it is the punishment for treason, which I have been informed speaking of Illis as king would be considered.”

“It is not as though you were forming a conspiracy against the Emperor or anything,” Rinnyx said. I had considered it, of course, but it seemed to me likely to accomplish little more than killing off the loyalists that were left. I was unlikely to retain much influence anywhere, but the rest would still be there as a counterweight.

Or so I liked to tell myself. I didn’t really know what could be accomplished at this point.

“And you do not think your Emperor would kill me for a few words, only an active threat? I tend to think he’d be as good as his word. Thankfully, I have refrained from committing any further treason.” Any that could be proven, at least. Long live the king could easily mean the pretender the Emperor had placed on the throne. Rinnyx must have suspected I did not mean any such thing, but fortunately he too did not wish for me to lose my head.

Rinnyx did not answer my question. “Being an ambassador doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Oh, maybe not. I would rather not be kept away from home for so long, but maybe it’s for the best.” Maybe I would find myself committing treason, if I stayed.

“How long is your term there?”

“Seven years. With the possibility for renewal.”

He looked down at his tea. “I like traveling well enough, but I’d want to be home again by then, too.”

I shrugged. “I suppose I’ll make the best of it.”

“Do you suppose I could keep in touch?”

“Could you?” I asked in return. “I have no opposition, but will the Emperor?”

“He doesn’t read my mail, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I gathered this to mean that Rinnyx had no intention of mentioning our correspondence to his friend, which was as I would prefer. “Then I would welcome your letters. I’ll need some word from the outside world, isolated up there in those mountains.” Cynically, I also thought it could hardly be to my detriment to cultivate a friendship with someone so well connected, at the heart of imperial power. To think I’d fallen so far that a translator was a connection to reach up to for me. But to tell the truth, I’d have welcomed a letter from Rinnyx without all that. It was nice that there was someone to whom I was not just the blue lord, but a person.

If he could do that for the Emperor, he could surely do that for me.

[thewritingcoroner]

Absolutely no need for apologies! We are using the words "frustration" and "irritation" a lot, but to me, personally, I am not angry. In fact I really love hearing all of these inputs and ideas coming together to develop a discussion, your "wordy" opinion is very welcome! This got long so also putting a cut.

I think what you are getting at in your response is what Jax up top was getting to as well. We use more industry-related jargon, but I think we're observing the same trend: we are taking a social media/hustle/marketing attitude towards a space that we want to be a community.

As Jax put it, social media itself is no longer really suited for what we are describing/defining as "community." You bring up a great point about irl groups that I also see as a criticism of writeblr, though you describe it as a feature! You mention cliques, and discuss how that works as a subset of community that enhances the community experience. I hadn't considered this perspective and I thank you for bringing it up.

Here are my thoughts: writeblr already kind of functions like this! You see the most interaction on your dash from the same people interacting with each other. If that counts as a "clique" then yeah it makes sense that that's the majority of quality interaction, and I can see why it makes other writers feel alienated and lonely - bear with me, I'm drafting these thoughts as the dots connect. Jax brings up the idea of a general trend in society (irl and online) of people feeling more and more uncomfortable speaking up in group settings. It's hard to walk up to a group chatting at a dinner party and join the conversation. It takes practice - something a lot of younger people these days just simply aren't getting.

So when I see the "clique critique" I get a little surprised! Because I've never seen anyone ever say "you aren't welcome here" when a conversation starts up on writeblr. So when people complain about cliques, I wonder how much of that comes from social anxiety stemming from not knowing how to politely and charismatically insert yourself into a conversation happening publically.

I think I will still need time to mull over how the concept of set times and schedules properly develop an irl community, BUT I will say that we've been dancing around the same thing on this discussion too! I talk about observations and introspections to promote digital health, and I mentioned it somewhere I cannot recall, but social media boundaries are absolutely critical to feeling good about your social media experience! Jax does it with witching hours, a more structured method that a lot of us use I'm sure. You bring it up, and I do think that some of the frustration writers express on here that catalyzed these discussions may be due to poor digital boundaries. If you're feeling bad, you need to know exactly why. Interaction is the easy thing to point to, but it may also be something like this: I've spent all this energy creating something and fostering communication and sharing it with people I consider friends at the expense of other aspects of my health and I got nothing in return! That makes me feel bad. The problem there is not interaction or lack thereof or even necessarily effort to response ratio, it may be that the writer themselves are ignoring other aspects of their life in favor of something inherently draining, and then pointing to something that would have briefly made the self-neglect feel worth it.

You also make a distinction that I think the rest of us have failed to make, and it's worth exploring. The distinction between relationships online as readers and as fellow writers. It's the distinction between peer and consumer. I think you describe this very well, and I don't have much to add about that distinction. But I would challenge those following this conversation now to think about what Barbex mentions as "ideal interaction" - define that for yourself. What are you looking for out of writeblr? Then ask yourself in the new terms that we've come to: am I looking for readers (consumers) or am I looking for writers (peers)? And it is very important to be very honest with yourself about the answer to the last question. The expected, altruistic answer is: I'm looking for peers, to have meaningful human connections with! But I think a lot of us also want consumers, those who will spread content so that we can grow our consumer-base (industry calls this audience).

There is absolutely nothing wrong for wanting readers, but that's a whole different strategy and structure! And when it comes to vent posts expressing frustration with the community as a whole, I think the root problem of the feeling varies by individual. We're experiencing similar emotions (we're all human!) but for a lot of different reasons, and I think that post Jax made that took off and made a few people upset that expressed a solution to one of those problems maybe divided a little because we identified a common feeling and trend, and then offered a solution, but that solution only works for one root cause of the common feeling. it won't work for someone feeling the same way but for a different reason.

I done got frustrated

My desire to keep my opinions to myself managed to last most of the day. New record tbh.

So like I wrote this big long rant a couple of weeks ago and decided against sharing it while I was still frustrated. But I do feel like maybe there is a larger discussion to be had! I think it's important that we as a writeblr community really take a look at why so many of us are getting so frustrated so often and how we as a community and as individuals can work towards an actually community vs a corner of social media. @blind-the-winds did an excellent job of explaining some of what I'm seeing as well in relation to why a lot of positivity and support posts and such ring hollow to so many of us. I wanted to bring a slightly different perspective to things coming from a marketing/social media marketing background. Under the cut out of respect for everyone's dashboards lol

This is going to get INCREDIBLY LONG. So I have a read more here. Behold, the bitchfest.

So this started today when I was chatting with an irl friend and expressing my frustrations about writeblr in general as a community. And what I've recognized now is this: writeblr isn't really much of a community, and it is very rare to find other creators and writers who are willing to treat you (the hypothetical writer) as another human being with a love for the same craft they do. Those people who do treat you like people are some of the loveliest people I've found on the internet, but they are hard to find.

Now, to be clear, I don't think the problem is completely writeblr's fault, nor do I believe it is any one or two or five hundred individual's fault. The problem comes from a number of different sources, and my friend did a great job of helping me see the problem from a number of different perspectives.

The problem being this: it is impossible to get engagement on posts that feature original long-form writing, and it is exceedingly difficult to effectively foster meaningful connections with other writers.

Some disclaimers: it's not impossible, and the people who successfully receive engagement on their long-form writing tend to be the people who are the exceptions proving the rule. Also, by "engagement" I mean any interaction that serves to both consume the content and spread the content. "Original" writing refers to writing that is not fandom related, and "long-form" means 1k words or more.

Do you think 1k words is a little short for "long-form" writing? Me too. I'll get to that.

I'll start my explanation here with what catalyzed these revelations in my little head. Over night, I got quite a few new followers, all directly coming from a post that got mildly popular here on writeblr. So, I looked at what other posts of mine have been popular, and I started to notice a trend.

My most popular posts tend to fit into one of three categories: memes, tag games, and boost posts/recommendations. Memes tend to be popular because they're funny and easy to spread, and as long as they fit the theme, they don't ruin a blog's aesthetic. Tag games get more interaction because I am directly tagging people to see the post. But the popularity for those posts tend to stop at the half dozen to a dozen people tagged in each given post (the person or people tagging me, and the several people I tag to continue the game). The last category is most interesting to me, the boost posts and recommendations.

Here's the thing, I only boost or rec other writers and blogs if I have invested interest and care into the person behind the blog and their content. AKA, I only really boost friends and writers I admire/like their content. It's great to see that those posts get popular with people outside my circle, but out of those three categories, none of them feature my own content.

Why is that?

It seems like every day I see a new post with a few thousand notes at least complaining about a lack of interaction on writeblr and the importance of reblogs and blah blah I rarely stop to read those let alone spread them. And a few dots connected, I think.

If my content isn't getting interaction, and your content isn't getting interaction, then what is? And I think the answer is this: memes, advice, and boosts.

Memes and advice are self-explanatory. But boosts are interesting because you will see everyone hop on to rec other people or more frequently market themselves, but they stop there. And I see my greatest influx of interaction and new followers when I boost other people's works or blogs.

My conclusion is that many people are using writeblr as a hustle and not a community. In a community we engage with each other, talk to each other, enjoy each other's company. And I've found many mutuals to be very lovely people who I do enjoy and who I love to engage with and who I like to genuinely call my friends. I like a lot of yall for different reasons too! Some of you are great hype buddies, some of yall are all about that accountability buddy system, and I really love when I get to have intellectual conversations about the craft and different concepts with different members of writeblr too.

But largely, I find that a lot of people who engage once with my blog, usually on those boost posts, or who ask for engagement more frequently than when frustration strikes, tend to be the people who think of writeblr as a hustle. They see that I (and many other writers) will boost and rec our friends, and jump on that bandwagon, but instead of putting in the effort to get to know us and our work, they say what needs to be said, hop on trends, and avoid any genuine connection.

So what gives?

It's not the individual writers, I think. It's the nature of social media, marketing, and the medium.

Listen, I work in marketing, and long-form writing is a dying art that is very difficult to market. I genuinely think the concept of "tldr" really ruined a lot of people's ability to engage with longer form writing. Whether that be nonfiction opinion posts or actual fiction. Tumblr is one of the only places I can think of where long-form writing is a feasible medium to post at all, let alone gain a following for.

Think about it: instagram is best suited for images, videos, and short-form aestheticized poetry. Twitter has a character limit that requires long threads of individual tweets or images to get your message across. Pitch events are well-suited for twitter because your pitch by definition needs to be short. But sharing actual summaries, snippets, or excerpts? Not really possible. Tiktok is for videos, which as we know can be utilized, but is not the most efficient method of marketing written word. Ao3 is an archive with an excellent tagging system, but to get readers, outside marketing is required. Facebook requires a real name, and isn't really well suited for content creation either. Wattpad, Royal Road, and others are great for posting actual works, but they don't necessarily have well-functioning tag systems that help the author find their audience. That really just leaves Tumblr. Pillowfort is also an option, though it's still so in the beginning phase of development that it's pretty difficult to get started there.

It's well known in marketing that images and videos catch attention and long paragraphs of text (AKA what most prose looks like) tend to be scrolled past. The very nature of the long-form writing medium is against most marketing techniques. Marketing long-form writing needs to look different from any other medium.

All that being said: the culture of social media engagement has shifted, and this is a conversation that fandom has been having and I think has actually been doing well discussing the different facets of how the culture has shifted. Fandom (and content creation in general) is seen as a commodity to be consumed. Consumers want to see the content, maybe save it for later, and then move on to the next piece. This is easily done with visual mediums, but writing mediums are especially vulnerable to this culture shift because it does require so much time and energy to consume, let alone engage.

Creators don't see their work as a commodity to be consumed, but it is now. When consumers view a piece of visual media, they view the image (consume it) and then move to the next, some will spread it to others by engaging with the picture through reblogs or sending the post to someone else. But most often, there will be a "like" to tell the creator good job, and then scroll to the next. This is harder to do with written media unless one has the time and energy to read the piece. There's the extra step of critical thought.

To put it a different way, the market is flooded with content and creators. With so much to choose from, the consumer now does not have to participate in the community to ensure continued creation. There will be another creator tomorrow. The consumer no longer feels connected to a community of their interests, it is simply being sold to them.

So back to writeblr, this is where I am at a crossroads. I am tired of creating content to be consumed, I want community. But also, I have nowhere else to turn. I can either completely withdraw from what sliver of community I have found, or I can keep trucking along, create my stuff, play the games we play, chat with the people I do like and do care about, and hope that I don't get too frustrated one day and leave for good.

[utilitycaster]

Wizard Breakdown Tracker, #135

Each week I think “man it would have been cool if I had thought of this idea, in which I make jokes about how stressed out the wizard NPCs are, during, you know, the Vergesson heist or something when we were interacting with more than one wizard NPC instead of during a dungeon crawl with only one wizard NPC, emphasis on crawl” but you know what, I persevere, because where else am I going to put song parodies about the death of Vess Derogna that are literally only funny to me? Twitter?

Anyway while I am personally team Jester, in that the faster Lucien is simultaneously disintegrated, run through in the chest with both a vestige and a holy avenger, shot through the heart (and Veth’s to blame), beheaded with a hand axe, banished, punched in the face, and sent into a black hole the better, the party has other plans. Thanks to the long rest though it has been about 12 hours, plus the 4-ish from last week, so I guess we’ll check in with a few of our other wizard friends as well.

As a reminder Caleb Widogast is a PC and thus excluded from this list.

Currently sidelined

Presumably having a good day: Pumat Sol (blissfully unaware of all of this); Allura Vyesoren (saint-like patience and a wealth of experience with disaster adventuring parties; at least this one has a cleric at more than 0.33 FTE, a wizard, and some lesbians), Ludinus Da’leth (this miserable pile of power plays wakes up every morning and is like Isn’t it Grand to be head of the evil wizard council and no one realizes I probably destroyed the first non-drow elven civilization on the continent to arise after the calamity! Fetch me more pastries!).

No idea but here’s hoping he found the cat portion of ScryTube: Oremid Hass

Lady DeRogna, taken off the scene, sorry that your murder happened while off-screen.

Trent Ikithon: I’ve established that I think the only real things that can damage Trent emotionally are Caleb paying too much attention to him so as to destroy his standing within the empire, or else Caleb ignoring him. Honestly if Trent would not continue to torture students and spread propaganda if left unchecked I think he could be slowly murdered solely through Caleb expressing apathy. So despite the amulets of nondetection I like to imagine that somehow, somewhere, Trent felt Caleb reaffirm to Essek that his top priority is still stopping the city from returning, not Trent, and it necrotized just a little bit more of his liver.

Conclusion: 7/10. I went to the OG evil mageocracy and no one knew who you were.

Essek Thelyss: Well on the one hand he’s still flirting but on the other imagine spending a literal century being like “what if we’re wrong about how we approach the fundamental basis for our society” and he just got proved right. I have to imagine he’s got that kind of stress where suddenly everything becomes dead calm and also this explains why he unnecessarily cast a 3rd level spell, which he knows could in theory cause him to lose all his hair, to impress a boy. I didn’t even get into the conversations he had with Caleb, the bad dreams and eyeballs, Fjord teasing him, Yasha being like “ALRIGHT ALREADY”, the horrible Aeorian creatures, the fact that robots might be back(?) or his ongoing terror that the Assembly is after him!

Conclusion: 8/10 but he’s like, kind of having a good time. Essek is in all ways but physical in a Hawaiian shirt right now drinking a Mai Tai and going Nothing Matters; I presume he will have a full breakdown following the boss battle and honestly he deserves it.

Astrid Beck: Others have already established the parallels between Essek and Astrid but honestly I want to highlight it because really, on the one hand we have Essek, whose world is crashing around him because he was right all along and is in terrible immediate danger but surrounded by friends, and on the other we have Astrid, whose world is crashing around her because she was wrong all along and she’s probably not in immediate danger but Eadwulf is the only person she can trust and we don’t know all the details about that either.

Conclusion: 8/10 but in the bad way, not Essek’s kind of fun way.

Wulfpupy:

Conclusion: 3/10. You know that tiktok with the blonde woman with glasses who has a lot of highlighter on her nose who talks about how sometimes if you have guy friends they will say something deeply fucked up and you’ll be like “oh my god do we unpack this right now” and then you look over at them and the only thing in their mind are the lyrics to Kokomo? That’s Wulf. He will activate the second Caleb comes back in town or Astrid actually falls apart but until then he is on Island Time.

Yussa Errenis: I wonder if there’s a small part of Yussa that is part of the city’s awareness and, moreover, can see what Beau and Caleb at least are doing, and he’s like “I’m so simultaneously proud and impatient, also we live in a world that does not have IV fluids so like, hopefully my body still exists in some kind of functioning state when I am rescued” (note: did I google “how were coma patients kept alive in olden times” for this? Perhaps.) Anyway if he is aware he’s also just like, watching all this like “I WILL GET YOU SO MUCH PAPER OH MY GOD CAN YOU JUST KISS THE OTHER WIZARD SAVE ME FROM THE EVIL HIVEMIND CITY.”

Conclusion: I mean still infinity/10, he is still trapped in the city of madness and also if he does have a small part of his mind that is sane and able to observe the material plane he also is aware that Trent and the Volstruckers broke into his tower.

Known Gem Wizard Hotsauce Lutefisk: I know, I know, weird that I brought him up. However consider: Yussa’s wizard tower now contains two wizards in suspended animation, their consciousnesses trapped in eldritch astral sea-related spaces. This is incredibly funny to me. We’re in a real Old Lady who swallowed a fly scenario except it’s centuries-old wizards getting sucked into traps because of their own hubris. The reason why mageocracies no longer exist isn’t the lack of magical knowledge or even because power corrupts absolutely, it’s because literally just put some lightly fried forbidden knowledge under a box with a stick propping it up, add your parody of Long-Term Nuclear Waste Warnings above it, and a wizard will be like “that sign won’t stop me because I CAN read and what’s more I’m better at reading than you are!” And then they get trapped in a box.

Conclusion: what is a breakdown tracker to a man whose mind has been stuck in a gem for, from his perspective, at minimum about 35 years?

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I kinda find it funny how, if Ed didn't break up with Bella and then chase after Victoria in NM, we might not have gotten the events of Eclipse. Girl was just vibing with her makeshift "guards," and he had to mess it all up by having her see how newborn armies work and inspire her. Do you think Vic would've still would've gone after Bella if not for NM's events (and how it'd go down)? Cause low key I think it's funnier if she wasn't a danger but Ed made her into one jfksaldjf.-Sw

I think she would have.

True, Victoria comes up with the newborn army scheme after Edward chases her down to Mexico, but she also doesn't use it right away. She tests the waters in Forks for a very long time before she decides to invade.

In other words I, sigh, agree with Edward on this: Victoria was coming back to murder Bella Swan in vengeance no matter what was happening.

Without the newborn army, however, things would have played out very differently.

A Bit on the Romantic Tragedy Penned by Edward Cullen

First, a note, Edward had always intended to leave Bella. From the moment he realized he was in love with her he told himself that he would one day leave her. It was just a matter of when.

In Twilight, he's torn. He knows he shouldn't be a part of her life, that bringing her into his world almost necessitates her becoming a vampire, but he also really doesn't want to let her go. He doesn't think he's strong enough to do it.

And as Bella keeps getting herself into danger he gives himself more and more excuses.

If he's not there, then Bella will get crushed by a van or raped in an alley or eaten by bears. Her number's up, and Edward is single handedly fighting fate to keep this angel alive.

Bella needs Edward, therefore he can't possibly go.

The birthday party put things back into perspective. Edward's family is the most dangerous threat to Bella there is, Edward himself really may lose control one day and devour her, and unless she turns (which Edward absolutely does not want) then she has no future with him.

The family has to leave now.

However, if there's no birthday party, then Edward doesn't have that catalyst and reminder. He likely decides to himself that he will leave Bella after graduation, his family will move towns, Bella will attend whichever university she attends, and he will have had a few wonderful years with Bella pretending he's a regular high school boy dating a regular high school girl.

When Bella then dies a natural human death sometime later, Edward will go to Volterra and kill himself (and force the Volturi's hand when Aro refuses to do it).

Of course, he'd probably break here too, but that's a different story.

I do think without Jasper's slip up and the birthday party, that Edward would have stuck around for New Moon.

The World Without Bella's Birthday Party

Bella throws the fit she didn't in canon.

She doesn't want this birthday party, she never asked for this birthday party, AND WHY DOES BELLA ALWAYS HAVE TO HUMOR ALICE?!

Bella has had a summer filled with Alice. In canon, this was a delight, in this world Bella realizes that maybe they spend most of their time doing what Alice wants to do rather than what Bella wants to do.

Alice is clearly throwing this party for Alice's sake, everyone knows it, and Edward tells her, "Please humor my sister and be a good sport."

Isn't this party supposed to be about Bella?

Alice is terribly upset and does not handle any of this well, Edward tells Bella to be reasonable and be the better person and give Alice this party, Rosalie thinks this is all petty bullshit but has mild respect for Bella on calling Alice out on this, and Carlisle is rubbing his temples somewhere trying to let the children deal with this themselves.

In the end, they compromise, Bella's birthday is Edward taking her out to dinner at an expensive restaurant in Seattle of Alice's choice, Bella wearing a fancy Chanel dress that Alice selected for her.

Bella's still embarrassed and miserable, but at least there aren't a billion pink candles.

As a result, there's no birthday party, no papercut, and no dumping.

The next several months instead are spent with Bella and Alice in a battle of wills and a real rough spot in their friendship. Bella tries to explain to Edward that Alice treats her like a doll, not a person.

Edward, of course, has no idea what she's talking about.

Bella fails to realize that Edward also treats her like a doll and not a person.

Laurent's Scouting Mission

As in canon, Laurent is probably sent by Victoria to scout. Victoria probably never left the area which means (remember this is book universe where Riley was in California) that she never turned Riley.

Without being all over the Forks area killing hikers, probably fewer wolves are turned. Yes, the Cullens are in the area, but they've been there three years, are very non-threatening, and in that time only Sam shifted.

We don't see the deluge of shifting until after the Cullens have left and Victoria starts actively attacking the area.

(Yes, this is worthy of a meta but that meta is not this meta)

Regardless, Laurent shows up, Sam's not sure if he's one of those friends of the Cullens or not, and Laurent walks in to see that all the Cullens are there.

Just like he expected.

Because Victoria has sent him to die.

Carlisle feels a headache coming on but is not shocked to see that Laurent's eyes are red again after only a few months. (Though this explains the sobbing phone call that Carlisle got from Irina asking if he'd seen Laurent because that beautiful, perfect, man has gone missing!)

Laurent provides some weasley bullshit explanation anyway. He asks, though it's really more of a demand, that he join the Cullen coven (much larger than the Denali, very gifted, and very powerful). Carlisle says no, Laurent has to stick to the diet if he joins the coven and he has to mean it. Given Laurent's current appearance, it seems as if Laurent is not willing to do that.

Laurent then begs them to let him stay: Victoria will murder him otherwise (and oh by the way she's after your Lunchable Bella Swan). That gets Edward into action, he demands Laurent's death and that he then hunt down Victoria personally.

Carlisle politely suggests that Laurent, rather than seek shelter from them who he knows Victoria intends to cross paths with, go back to the Denali and give the diet another whirl.

Laurent flees back to the Denali, Irina is ecstatic to see him. Victoria's not even surprised.

The family discusses what to do about Victoria. Carlisle would rather not hunt this woman down on hearsay alone. Jasper thinks they should have killed her to start and letting her escape was foolishness, he told them she'd be back. Edward for once is with Jasper, Victoria must be destroyed before she can harm Bella. They look to Alice and, yeah, there's a good possibility that Victoria will be back.

Edward is torn between hunting down Victoria and protecting Bella in person. Jasper leaves before he can make the decision, which of course angers Edward beyond belief, but, well, he guesses it is what it is.

Edward decides to not tell Bella that a vampire is after her life: it'll just worry her.

Jasper's Hunting Mission

Jasper likely has a devil of a time catching Victoria, as he did the first time, because of her gift. He ends up having very long phone calls with Alice as he tries to coordinate a successful solution to this.

Because Edward never left Bella, she never sought out Jake. She never forms her friendship with Jake nor realizes the secret behind the shapeshifters.

Billy tries to give Bella a few more ominous warnings but there's no getting through to this girl.

Edward never proposes to Bella because he's intent on leaving her after graduation. He does not tell Bella this though she constantly worries about it.

He assures her they can have a long distance relationship at college (he has no such intentions).

Victoria is kept out of the Forks area by Jasper and likely takes the one obvious route left to her. She has nothing left to live for, and it doesn't matter how much terror she lives in the Volturi, if this means her death then so be it.

She goes to the Volturi and narks on the Cullens.

Victoria Narks

It... does not go as planned.

Aro placates Caius with many excuses: this girl is in her primary schooling, is the only daughter of a police chief, she cannot simply disappear.

Carlisle is likely waiting until after she graduates and can disappear across the country.

And yes, technically this James fellow had bit Bella and they had their perfect chance but... Well, Aro will talk to Carlisle, it is not breaking the law yet.

Aro travels to Forks in person with Renata, shows up on Carlisle's doorstep, and says, "We need to talk."

Aro lays down the law, this girl better be turned after graduation, and Aro can only stall Caius so long. Also, great to see you, you built yourself a coven and that's perfectly marvelous.

Edward, of course, throws a fit but the law is the law and the law just visited them for tea. Aro makes it very clear that either Bella is turned, she dies, or Aro will have no choice to take adverse action against Edward at the very least (if not Carlisle and the rest of the Cullens).

Aro also points out this is an unsustainable relationship that's not good for anybody. Yes, it's too bad the girl has no choice, but they really should have thought of that before Edward walked around strongly hinting he wasn't human.

Edward insists they vote.

The vote doesn't go the way he likes.

Esme doesn't want Edward to live in misery after Bella dies, Rosalie doesn't like the idea of turning Bella but it appears they have no choice, Jasper (via conference call) doesn't want to be the one to eat Bella and it's stupid given the VOLTURI IS IN THE ROOM FOR THIS VOTE, and Carlisle notes that it appears Bella has no other option and at least this seems to be what she wants?

They will turn Bella after graduation.

Edward smashes a TV.

They tell Edward to tell Bella, it should come from him, Edward never does.

Instead, out of nowhere, he asks her to marry him and elope. They can live on a deserted island somewhere.

Bella thinks this is stupid and says no.

Edward dies inside.

Victoria Chooses Death

Victoria is out of options, the Volturi did not come through, and she wanders out of Volterra in a daze.

She guns it for Forks with Jasper hot on her tail. If there's one thing left for her, she will murder this Bella Swan before she dies. She fails, Jasper catches up to her in Forks and murders her.

No one tells Bella.

Graduation

After graduation, Carlisle picks Bella up. Bella has no idea what's happening, Carlisle assumes she does. Carlisle lays down the game plan, she's going to take a summer abroad before school starts, travelling with Alice, then both she and Alice will disappear in an accident.

Bella asks him to hold up, what the hell is he talking about?

Carlisle realizes with dull horror that Edward never told Bella. He awkwardly explains that the Volturi personally came to visit and, well, they have to turn Bella into a vampire.

He's very sorry.

Bella's very on board with this, she asks if it can be Edward that does it.

Carlisle says no, that's not a good idea.

They stare at each other.

Carlisle cannot believe Edward didn't tell her.

Edward and Bella do not get married nor does she have sex with him as a human.

[penajavier]

though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader

This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 

Title: though you are no god (credit)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.3k

Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+

ao3

••••••••

The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  

His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 

Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  

The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  

Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 

•••• 

The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 

It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 

"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  

An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 

You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  

That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.

I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 

You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  

You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 

•••• 

The third time, it's fucking magical. 

You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 

Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 

You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 

He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 

He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 

"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  

"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  

"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  

"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 

You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 

The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 

"Such a gentleman," you tease. 

"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 

Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  

Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 

"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 

"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 

"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 

"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 

He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 

"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 

"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  

He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 

Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 

"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 

He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 

You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 

•••• 

The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 

He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 

You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 

You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  

His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 

With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 

The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 

You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 

He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 

"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 

"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 

•••

fin.

Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️

[choiwrites]

kth | wolfgirl (m.)

Words: 10k  Genre: twlight!au, it’s new moon but taetae as jacob, ur bella but you have a personality :o, oh also smut and a little angst Warnings: no protection and no fcks given, language ig?, descriptive seggs lol, vampires and all that bs if that triggers sum of yall, oral (f receiving), tae is younger than u and kind of a sub (dom tae is overdone we need change in this country) i cant think no more no thots hed mt Rating: 18+ Song: Iron & Wine - Flightless Bird, American Mouth Summary:  During your stay at your Aunt's house in the wet town of Forks, you never thought the boys next door will change your perspective in how you see the world.

The weather in Washington was something you’re not used to. You can never go places without getting mud on your shoes and it takes more than your patience to clean them every time before going out. Sure, it was great to experience a different weather other than the blazing sun in Los Angeles, but it was hard to adjust. You weren’t ready for it with all the sleeveless and loose tops you brought from Los Angeles.

After months of debating with your mom, you decided it would be a great way to spend your summer vacation turning your camera focus into something more dark and cloudy. Your professor had also suggested that it would look good in your portfolio if you try different moods in photos other than the hot weather in Angeles. So, you thought about it for months before asking your mom to buy you tickets to see your Aunt Sylvia who you're currently living with for the meantime.

She was in her mid-thirties, but she looked younger than her real age. She knew how to groom and with the way she looks, she probably had that life during her high school days. You rarely see her though, you can remember all the conversations you both had. She leaves home early for her duty at the police station as an attending desk officer. Her place wasn't big, an average suburban house painted in cold tones of white and gray with dark furniture inside. It's not your typical definition of cozy. Good thing you brought your two sweaters — one with a Christmas tree embroidered on it and one with the phrase "'tis the season!" Wearing a sweater in Los Angeles only means one thing, and that is the season of giving. But who cares, it's not like anyone was going to notice, right?

About to finish the second cup of black tea, an idea pops into your mind about what Sylvia had said about the landscapes nearby the house. However, she had warned you about the risks of a few wild coyote appearances, but one could call you a junkie. There’s no fun in danger, but dangerous does rhyme with adventurous.

A cool whip of breeze enters the thin fabric of your sweater, immediately regretting stepping out of the doorstep after locking the door. As you are approaching the back of the house to enter the woods, young laughters echo through the area, lessening your fear for a bit. It must be safe if a group of teenagers are hanging out in such a secluded forest.

Unbothered by the noises, whether they were from teenagers or not, you make your way further into the woods of coppery branches on the endless verdant ground with subtle eau de nils. It’s like walking into a surreal three-dimensional render of a forest, too perfect to be right in front of your eyes.

It was quiet and serene in the woods. Aside from birds chirping, it felt like out of this world. It was an alien planet. Everything was green — the moss surrounding the place, every tree had some sort of fungi beneath it, the soil dark brown as if staring right into the earth’s eyes. The very healthy kind of earthy, and it was easier to breathe in the forest than it was in the city of Los Angeles. No wonder why they're both on the opposite sides of the country. They're literally poles apart. Being at Forks, it's as if you were able to be in a different country. It was secluded, unlike in Angeles, there are people in every place you go.

While changing the film of the camera, a strong gust of wind on your left side. So strong that your body stumbled onto the ground. You were on your knees, camera shattered as it hits a hard medium-sized rock. You break a couple of curses to the wind.

The camera looked hopeless with lenses separated from it, lying in pieces against a rock.

"What the hell was that?" 

There had to be some kind of a fast animal that ran from your side, which quickens your pulse, but the devastation you felt for the camera overthrew that fear. When you caught a glimpse of the 'wind,' it was human-like. It ran around in every direction surrounding you,  freezing you into place. The only thing you were able to do was to keep watching the human-like creature run in circles like lightning. You tried standing up, but it approached you in a rapid current that you fell into place again. But you couldn't see it, you weren't able to look into its eyes.

"You shouldn't be out here alone,” behind you says.

You whimper, embarrassed when the deep voice sends hums into your nerves.. 

"Why didn't you run?" He looks at you with knitted brows as he approaches to help you get on your feet. He’s far too attractive to be a wild coyote, you slap that stupid thought away.

"I... I didn't know what to do,” you force out, still affected by the broken camera and creeping fear.

He was around four inches taller than you. He looked about your age. Dark thick hair, with light brown irides inside his almond-shaped eyes. His skin was of a rich walnut tan, and his dark green hoodie complements that. 

"You must be Sylvia's niece. I'm Taehyung,” he said in a sultry manner as he offered a hand for a handshake.

"How do you kno-"

"She told us. My family's close with Sylvia. Our mothers used to be best friends, y/n." He puts his hand back in the pocket of his hoodie.

A tinge of embarrassment brushes through your cheeks, feeling guilty that you didn't give him a handshake. But all of that is ignored when he smiles.

"Did I creep you out?"

You chuckle softly. "No, of course not. I'm just still in the moment... of processing." You ease him, as if you were able to read the tension in his undecipherable eyes.

There was a few seconds of silence before Taehyung spoke again when he noticed your camera on the ground.

"Hey, we have a technician at home, maybe he has some tools he could help you with."

He was absolutely gorgeous. You find yourself lost in his face, studying his features and every little action he does. He would look so good as a muse. If only you could capture him right now, he'd be perfect under the clouds that create shadows that contour his cheeks and makes his eyes even more mysterious.

"Don't worry, you can trust me. Sylvia knows where I live,” he adds. 

Though that doesn't really solve the problem, you find yourself walking with Taehyung in the woods, drifting away from the devastation and fear from earlier. 

The laughters were from them. The laughs you heard earlier before entering the woods were from Taehyung's friends. They confirmed that they were walking around the woods earlier and that they passed by your house. All looking friendly with similar doe eyes, almost like they were relatives. They were all in a circle, all of them sitting on a chunk of thick logs, dressed in a similar way. The men were younger than you, but there is a girl who's older than you. She didn't seem as friendly as the others as you notice the judging glances towards your way. She had shoulder length of hair and she was just as tan as Taehyung. Taehyung discussed each of them one by one to you, all of them introducing themselves in an endearing manner except for her. Only saying her name was Leah and that was it, which made you feel an ounce of intimidation.

"So, y/n, how long do you plan to stay?" Embry, the one with the shortest hair, asks as he plays with the two twigs he'd been digging up dirt with the moment you arrived. His color was a tad bit darker than the others. He had a grin that could steal every girl's heart. He was gorgeous. They were all just as gorgeous as Taehyung.

"Oh, one month. I have a college application to fix back home,” you answered surely. You were only here to take photos for your college portfolio, and making friends was out of the picture until today.

"Sucks for Tae, I had a feeling you could be more than a willing candidate to be his girlfriend." Everybody laughed except for you and Tae who exchanged awkward glances at each other.

"Stop it, Bry." Taehyung wanted to laugh along but embarrassment got the best of him.

"She looks so out of place. You probably party a lot in Los Angeles, don't you?" Leah gives you a stern look, seriously waiting for your response. She only wants to get a reaction from you and you weren’t the only one to get the feeling as the group feels the rising tension between the both of you.

"No, I don't go to parties. Mom is very strict." You tell her. You didn't want the group to feel that you were intimidated, after all, you wanted to befriend everyone.

"She'd be perfect for our overnight tomorrow then." She prickly grins.

"Right! Want to join us in La Push? It's the nearest beach out here. We'll have bonfires and such," Seth, the youngest one with the tiniest body (still bigger than yours), expresses in excitement. Out of all of them, Seth was the friendliest. 

"I'll go talk to Sylvia for you, if you want." Taehyung raises his brows. He had been laughing quietly ever since he had brought you to meet his friends - which seems like he regrets, additionally. He was more mysterious than you thought. He didn't share much of his life during the discussion, only three things: his last name was Kim, he’s 20 years old, and he lives at the rez along with the rest of the team.

"Sure. I'll just bring my other camera." You smiled.

Taehyung said that he'll get Chase, a friend of his who wasn’t part of the circle, to fix the broken film camera. He assured that it will only be a matter of three days before the camera is all yours again. After a few more useless fun discussions, you had forgotten that the sun had settled for a while. When Taehyung realizes your face of worry, he offers to give you a ride home. Great, a ride with the wild coyote who had immediately earned your trust by rising a brow. You wouldn’t be so shocked if you end up ‘missing’ in the news in the next hours.

He owned a Chevy pick up truck. It was red, but faded, making it seem vermillion in color. It had a few dents and you were sure that it wasn't one of the smoothest rides you've ever had. But Taehyung made a few jokes about how he feels uneasy with the truck as well, only to reveal that it has been with him ever since his birth.

"It's great. Very retro." You gave him a smile to let him know that he doesn't need to feel embarrassed with his truck.

"Shut up, Y/N. I know it sucks, okay. I can't even play a single song here without a static." He laughs and you admit it.

He gave a charming wave to your window and had a small chat with Sylvia, who’s been home for hours, before leaving, probably about the La Push trip for tomorrow. Once you've changed into your pyjamas, Sylvia knocks on your door as you are about to settle in bed.

"Tae told me about the La Push camping tomorrow,” she began.

"Are you gonna let me?"

She smiles in an assuring way. You can't deny how lovely she looked with her hair down, her waves framing her heart-shaped face. "Of course, honey. You better wake up early tomorrow. Tae told me that he'll pick you up by seven." She winks and rubs your shoulder before heading downstairs.

A beach trip in a cloudy town without bringing any hoodies with you? Sounds about perfect, if you’re looking for a hypothermia attack. And you were never a morning person either so it’s a big mystery why you even agreed to go in the first place. The waking time in Los Angeles was ten in the morning. In Forks, it was seven. 

When Taehyung arrived, he was wearing a black shirt and a black leather jacket, pairing it with slightly oversized pants. He looked bigger than yesterday, maybe it was the jacket that made him look buff. He waved softly before you even stepped out of the doorway. He was carrying a medium-sized paper bag with small wet stains.

"My sister made us breakfast. Just in case you didn't have enough time to prepare," he opens the car door for you and waved to Sylvia goodbye, "thought you'd take more time because you probably wake up late in the city."

“I’m somehow a little offended with that assumption,” you cooed and he replied with a stammering laugh, unsure whether to take it as a joke or not.

He fumbled with the stereo and it played better than yesterday, giving you a sloppy smile as the first chords of Creep by Radiohead plays.

"You fixed it?" You take a bite from the sandwich his sister prepared. You thank God his sister prepared it for you, your stomach would be growling by now.

"Yeah. I just didn't want us to have that awkward silence along the way." He breathily laughs.

Everything Taehyung has is beautiful. He had an amazing laugh, a deep sultry voice, and doe eyes. He's simply astonishing. You were sure that everyone he has met so far had fallen in love with him. You weren't one to deny that either.

It took around fifteen songs before the both of you arrived at the beach — thanks to Taehyung's amazing playlist. It was quiet, the weather didn't change much in the place. Still cold and dark, untouched by a glimpse of sunrise. It was windier than the rest of Forks, and you wore your Christmas sweater to at least help with the cold a bit.

It was weird to say, but Taehyung radiated heat whenever you were near him. It's like when you're not around Taehyung, you feel the coldness of Forks. His truck didn't even feel cold though his air conditioning was on, you just felt a sense of unfamiliar comfortable heat you found yourself curling in your seat minutes ago. The group welcomed the both of you except for Leah of course. Sooner or later, you knew you'd start to hate her.

"You guys are early,” you tell Embry and Paul as they greet you with warm hugs.

"Of course, we are. It's La Push, baby." Embry gives you a wink and you blush.

"Okay, Bry, I haven't had my breakfast and you're already winking." Paul fake puked and the rest of the group laughs.

They started setting up tents as Taehyung offered to take your bag when he noticed how it's weighing you down. Before he could put it in the tent, you took your digital camera and started roaming around by yourself to take pictures of the view. Astounding as you had expected. It's like you were in the middle of nowhere. Only Taehyung's friends were at the beach which was a lucky shot for you and the group.

"Set up the fire, Tae! We're having breakfast." Leah yells across the place as she places the logs in the middle of the circle the tents are built in.

Taehyung sighs loudly. "Get ready for the Quileute Tribe stories." 

"You seem tired of it, you joked.

While Taehyung builds a fire with the rest of the boys, you secretly take pictures of him busy as the both of you keep talking.

"It's always the story every camping day. The Quileute Legends, you know? The scary stuff." 

You knit your brows when the word ‘scary’ comes into play, bringing your camera down to take a better look at the almost sweaty Taehyung.

"Scary stuff? How scary? Thrill me." You weren't aware as to how much Taehyung also studies your features. He wanted to know you better, but he was afraid of scaring you away by asking too many questions. It had always been his issue, scaring people away from him. And this time, he didn't want to let you in like the others, he just wanted to be acquaintances. But the more he spends time with you, the more he wants to be near you as if there were magnets pulling you together.

"I don't know what would thrill you, y/n. But the world is darker than you think, it's not always safe." He gives you a look. It was impossible. You were five feet away from him, but you could almost see your reflection in his eyes. It was too comforting. You were devoured by his eyes, falling steadily into his charms.

"I know. It's just as scary in L.A., I mean," you gulped, "crime is everywhere. Can't really stop it." You explained.

"It's not always crime that's scary, y/n. I'm talking unexplainable things." He smirks.

"Like paranormal?" You gaze away from him, starting to take pictures of the beach. But no matter how hard you try to distract yourself from Taehyung, your eyes keep falling on him.

"More than paranormal. Ghosts are easier to believe in."

You inhaled sharply. "I mean those are just legends, right? What's with the obsession in the Qui-Quileute Tribe?" You struggled pronouncing the word.

"It's not me. It's a tradition." There was a moment of silence before you could think of what to say again.

"Delete my pictures by the way." He scoffed.

"I thought you didn't notice."

"I was posing." 

You laugh at his joke, still certain you're never deleting any of his pictures, most definitely the one when he accidentally looked at the camera.

"You look sort of beautiful in the camera." Your lids flutter like a high school girl. “Not just in the camera, I mean… haha.”

He stares at you in confusion, and somehow you always find yourself frozen and embarrassed whenever he looks at you. "Sort of beautiful? You're more naive than I thought." He removes his jacket and throws it on the log nearby, revealing his buff body. You look away in discomfort, you didn't want to find yourself checking him out. "I'm not what you think I am. And I don't think you want to know."

"Maybe I do." You point the camera towards him and take a shot of his reaction. You wink.

The clouds hovering above the clamorous sea tell that there's probably rain coming, but it seems like the group wasn't bothered by it at all. You were sitting next to Taehyung two feet away from you on the logs nearby the fire that Seth had given up trying to help making after a couple of failed attempts. His heat never failed to linger around you though.

Sam was discussing the Quileute Legends and the group was very fascinated with the story, even though Taehyung had confirmed earlier that they've already heard the story too many times from their own families. Sam was good. He had a way in telling stories. You find yourself actually believing the legends. Werewolves and vampires? Shapeshifters and Children of the Moon? You weren't one to believe in such fantasies. You liked to watch historical movies more than fairytales, but with the way Sam elaborated every part of the legend, you can't deny the shiver that you felt when he discussed the cold ones.

Fast like lightning. Beautiful and alluring. Undead without a soul.

You thought it was ridiculous for Sam to even give out a warning about the cold ones. You were suppressing your laugh a little bit, and you were sure Leah already had her eyes on you. Why would Sam give out a warning about the cold ones? It's not like they were actually real. He also mentioned a treaty. And he sounded pretty serious about it too, even Taehyung was carefully listening. All of their eyes were on Sam, except for Leah.

Sam talked about a specific family of the cold ones, that they proposed a treaty. These cold ones are not allowed to hurt anybody from Forks, or else the mentioned werewolves are allowed to pose a fight with them. He talked about it like it was a plan.

It was afternoon and the clouds were still as thick as it was in the morning, but rays of sunlight shone through the gaps between the dark clouds. It looked ethereal, an aesthetic you'd only see in paintings. You thought those paintings are only manifestations of amplified emotions of the painter, but here you are, smiling to your camera as you take hundreds of shots.

"Save some memory for the other landscapes," Taehyung says beside you, throwing pebbles to the water, each bouncing impressively for three times.

"I know, I just can't get enough of this. You don't see that in L.A." You pointed your index finger towards the horizon of the sea.

"Yeah, but at least you can swim in LA. It's too cold out here to even go for a swim,” he emphasized.

"Not when you're around. It's weird, but I feel like you have a fever. You're too hot."

He raises his brows . "I know I'm hot," he chuckles.

"I didn't mean it like that,” you protest, though you know for a fact, Taehyung right. If he were to live in L.A., he'd be escorted many times by a modeling agency.

"So, I'm not hot?" You knew he was teasing and your embarrassment was obvious enough because of the blood rushing through your cheeks.

"You're attractive. I'm sure you know that." You roll your eyes, trying to keep everything casual — which is getting harder and harder every time he's around.

"No, I don't,” he teased. He was obviously getting pay back on you for taking candid shots of him earlier.

Your eyes landed on Sam and Emily play-fighting in the sea, just the sight of them being happy made you feel a bit of a heartache. You were a sucker for romance. The boys told you earlier that they were engaged for three months now. Leah was Sam's ex-girlfriend and Emily was Leah's ex-best friend. Finally putting the pieces together why Leah was one of the hardest to be with. She was extremely hurt and broken. She would rather shut the world out rather than let anybody in. She would rather be alone, than find anyone again who could possibly hurt her.

"Look," you poked Taehyung who was too busy throwing pebbles, "Sam and Emily are swimming. We should too!"

Though you were shivering, you bravely took off the mustard jacket that Taehyung had let you borrow. You were left with your thin brown tank top and denim shorts. He's still in his black shirt, unbothered to even take it off nor his jeans.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You tell him as you walk towards the sea.

This was a bad idea. It felt like ice was draping all over your body. How can Emily look like she's having fun when you're over here freezing just by stepping into the water? Half of your body was shivering from the wind, the lower half was for sure numb. You wanted to slap Taehyung for taking so long to get in with you, and you weren't even sure why you were so desperate for him to get in with you. It's not like he had a heater with him.

It took Taehyung a few more seconds before he started taking his shirt off, revealing his caramel skin, but it wasn't his color that caught your eyes, it was how built he is. His body looks like it was sculpted by the most talented and precise sculptor. It was defined, and shadows are doing magic in giving it silhouettes in the right areas. The best part about it was how shy he was taking off his clothes, like a teenager getting ready for his first swimming lesson.

He was for sure planning to swim today, revealing the gray trunks he’s wearing underneath his jeans. He needs a bigger one that fits him better, because the trunks he's wearing isn't doing him any justice.

Okay, no. Maybe it was justified by a subtle outline of his —

Don't even look down there, y/n, you tell yourself.

You didn't know where to focus. His thighs were just as eye-catching as his abs. Just as toned and thick. It would be such a material for thigh riding, you thought and you quickly shake your head at the idea. It has to be the waters that did this to you. Time has never been more relevant when he was walking towards your way, as he scoops water with his hands to wet his hair, while biting his bottom lip and giving you a small smile after.

"Freezing?" He smiles, eyes pierced on your small body. You were hugging yourself, embracing yourself from the fact that if you let go of your hands, you might touch something else.

"You were taking so long." 

He chuckles before holding your arm, taking it off your body. "Come on, dip your whole body." He pulls you softly towards the ocean, the sound of walking through water comforting your ears.

He was a foot away from you, the water level was on his chest and so was yours, but slightly higher. He looked even more godly. His hair pushed back, and to see his face in its entirety was a blessing, a gift.

None of you dared to talk, and you thought it was better that way. You just get to stare at him, as the sunlight lands itself upon his bronze eyes with specks of gold if you would close enough, majestic indeed to see something like that once in your life. You'd wish to wake up to that every morning.

There was this comfortable silence between the two of you. Drops of water fall under his eyelashes, fluttering them as he struggles to stare back at you. The moment was ruined when he suddenly smiled and looked towards Embry and Paul. Embry was sitting next to Paul, staring at the both of you while laughing. You shrug, feeling invaded.

"Why? What is it?" you asked Taehyung.

"They're thinking ridiculously."

 You furrow your forehead. "How do you know?" He tightens his hold around your arm as he keeps you steady near him, aware of you struggling to touch the floor.

"I just know," he softly plants circles on your arm with his thumb, "trust me."

"Maybe we shouldn't stand too close to each other then. I think they're making a big deal out of it." You didn't want to come off feisty, but you guessed it went that way for Taehyung as he moved away from you without letting you go.

"No, they're not. They're just teasing." When he said that, it was like he only said it to get near you, to assure you that it was okay to be close to him like that.

"Still cold?" he asked.

"Not so much anymore." You muttered. There were so many questions you wanted to ask Taehyung, but your voice isn't very trustworthy at the moment. You know it will betray you the moment you open your mouth.

"Penny for your thoughts? Why did you want to swim?" His voice was soft, calming as the ocean.

"I wanted to test how warm you can make me, even in freezing water."

He laughs breathily. "Seriously?"

You nod. He wanted to tell you a lot about himself, but like you, he was just as scared. Skinny dipping wasn't really your thing, especially in cold water, so after a few more moments of swimming and small talks with Taehyung, you let yourself dry by sitting next to the tent, keeping yourself busy by viewing all the pictures you took.

It was four in the afternoon, and the sun looked like it was already setting. Time was almost irrelevant at Forks, you wake up and the next thing you know, you're already getting ready for bed. Even though today was quite eventful, the clock still ticked quickly.

Feeling dry enough, you walked to the other side of the beach, Embry had mentioned that there was a cliff nearby along the woods. Though Taehyung was busy drying himself and laughing with the others, he glanced your way as you were heading towards the woods. You lifted your camera so he knew what your motive was, and he flashed a sly smile.

Trees. Cliffs. Birds.

The place could be a haven for the National Geographic Channel.

"I thought the pack wouldn't ever leave you alone like this." A deep voice spoke behind you, his english accent was thick and strong. You were sure that if you turn around, he’ll be ten feet away from you. You regret blinking your eyes, because the next thing you knew, he was right in front of you. His expression with so much thirst, so much hunger. For what?

You only inhaled sharply, first thing coming into your mind, confusion overpowering your nerves. You examined the man before you quickly. Olive skin, dark ruby eyes. His skin was inhumanly shiny, he almost looked dead, but in a mesmerizing type of way. He had dark purple circles, but his eyes were beautiful enough to distract you from it. He mirrored a cement under sunlight, he had fragments of diamonds and glitters on his skin. It wasn't your brain consuming you but his visual, his aura.

"Didn't bring your dog with you?" You weren't sure what he meant. He takes a step forward to lean into your ear, and your feet beg to stay, your eyes staring deeply in his beauty. You were too engaged, everything about him had you in place.

"You smell different from the others. Are you aware of that?" His breath touched your skin and there the exact opposite of heat seeping in your skin. “La tua cantante. I can hear your blood flowing through your veins. I can hear your heart. It's beautiful." He sniffs your neck as he hisses.

He wasn't human, and this time you were sure. He had danger lingering in his eyes, but it dressed so captivatingly beautiful, you found yourself lost.

"It won't hurt, I promise. It will be just a tiny bite, you won't even feel it."

There were words coming out of your mouth, you swore that. But nothing, your mouth still and close. It's sort of like he had power upon you, controlling and manipulating your body to be a mannequin. 

"Shh, don't fight it. You won't win over me." His teeth were grazing on your neck, seeking for a soft spot. You were unsure of his nature, what could he be?

An alien from this alien planet? An experiment gone wrong that escaped from a lab, perhaps? Maybe a demon, or an angel. A greek god of some kind?

They were all terrifying.

At the corner of your eye appeared a shirtless Taehyung, but he didn't look like himself. He was red, smoke flaring around his body. His chest expanded by time, and when you felt a small sensation of sharpness on your neck, Taehyung jumped towards the man.

No, it can't be.

This isn't Taehyung. Taehyung was gone. Maybe you were imagining things, but you felt all of them happening in front of you. As the man got distracted, your senses came back, falling on your side from losing balance. You pushed yourself away from the two monsters, as you would describe it. This wolf was huge, enormous. Any man who would try to fight it will easily lose. It stands almost seven foot, three bears wide.

Without trying, the creature had already decapitated the man. You weren't sure how to feel — safe or worried — but you were sure that you are mortified, and your face clearly expresses that.

You were only moving away from this huge thing in front of you, maybe that'll help you escape. But you don't even know if you wanted to escape. A part of you believes that Taehyung is inside that wolf, maybe eaten alive, or a spirit. 

So much for the wild coyotes, thanks for the heads up Sylvia.

Your eyes met his. Dark bronze eyes with specks of gold if you look close enough. You could almost see yourself in them, they were that kind. His eyes had a message for you, to approach him, to pet him, that it was okay and he will never hurt you. Before your hand could land on his lowered head, Sam and the others came running to help you, obviously seeing the wolf, but not even being bothered like you were.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Sam helps you stand on your feet.

Sam and the wolf had some kind of connection. Sam stared at it and the wolf left.

"So, wolves are normal here?" you spoke with a weak voice.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, thinking of how he can explain what just happened. You know that he knows something, and he was struggling to tell it.

"Where's Taehyung?" You scan their faces with no sign of Taehyung.

Holy shit! The wolf ate him! you thought. All you want to see right now is Taehyung. To prove himself. He can't be that wolf. The wolf must have eaten him. It is far too impossible for Quileute Legends to be real.

"We should get going before the other cold ones get here." Sam assists you to get back in the tents, completely ignoring your state of bewilderment.

Maybe it's a Forks thing to be mysterious and quiet. It irks you so much that none of them are even acknowledging what happened. This would be a great story for your mom.

Hey, Mom. Just wanted to call to tell you about how great my day was. So Taehyung, right? Aunt's neighbor, really hot guy I'd totally fuck, got eaten by a werewolf. But that's not too crazy, an incredibly beautiful medieval British man held me hostage, telling me he wanted to suck my blood. What a Forks thing! And everybody saw this huge tall wolf, I'm talking as big as a shelf kind of wolf, but they all acted like it was some puppy leaving the scene. Anyways, Mom, I'm traumatized. Going home in a week.

There is no way you can paraphrase that. No way you can make everything happening right now to sound normal at least one bit. This must be normal in Forks, but this is some Hollywood work in LA already. Things like these don't happen unless there was a shoot next door.

"Hey, you okay?" Leah approaches you. Her concern is seemingly genuine.

"I'm alive, guess I am okay. Where's Taehyung?" You don't bother to look at anyone at all, you drive your attention to the waves landing on the beach, hoping you could synchronize your breathing with them.

"Taehyung's fine. You don't have to worry about him."

"I saw him there. He was... he was red! Like he was burning! And... and there was smoke. Then I blinked, then there's a wolf. I swear it ate him!" Leah looked at you with wide eyes, but her lips were shaking trying to hide a smile.

"You're not taking me seriously! That wolf killed that guy! I don't know. He sounded British!" Leah bit her lip. "That was horrifying. I saw its head removed, there was no blood! What was that?" Leah inhaled sharply before looking at you with assurance.

"Can you calm down? The wolf you saw, don't you think it was described like the one in the legends?" Leah almost shouted, yet still controlling her laugh.

"Shapeshifters? Those are legends, Leah! The wolf ate Taehyung!" 

She chuckled. "No, they are real," she protested.

"The British man there was a cold one, a literal vampire. Taehyung didn't kill him, he was already dead."

No.

"Shut up, Leah. I know you hate me, but this is no time for jokes." 

She laughs harder. "You're right about me not liking you, but I'm not joking. That dark brown werewolf is Taehyung. One and only Taehyung. 20 year-old Taehyung who lives at the rez. That Taehyung."

'The world is darker than you think. It's not always safe.'

Taehyung had already given you clues from the start. But a word from Leah wouldn't be enough to stop your mind from going everywhere. You needed to hear this from Taehyung.

It was twilight already and the group had decided to spend the night in their cabin, instead of the beach. Sam explained that it was for your safety which until now he hasn't elaborated yet. Emily offered newly baked muffins, but it was too late before you could grab one when all the boys devoured around them. You gave Emily a smile.

"You can have the next batch." She shied away.

Emily looks like an average girl next door. She had fringes and medium length hair, they were very flat. Her skin was like the others, tan and healthy-looking. One thing you haven't examined deeply about her were her eyes. Embry had told you once that staring at Emily would bother Sam, and when you first saw her, you knew immediately why. She had a scar on one of her eyes, they looked painful. It looks like a cat scratch, only if that cat was a lion. It covered half of her face, but that didn't stop her from being lovely. She was still pretty in every way.

Taehyung arrives at the cabin, looking at everybody except you, his body resting on the door frame. He was heavy-breathing like he just finished a race. Sam came after him, giving him a small pat then walking towards Emily. Taehyung's eyes remain on the floor. His actions were complicated. You haven't figured him out yet.

"Y/N, Tae, maybe you can talk outside alone." Sam smirks at Taehyung, and Taehyung smiles back.

'This is no time to be smiling!'

Taehyung finally looks at you before leaving the door and you follow. But he still hasn't talked. And your rage is piling up inside you, you finally take a step forward.

"Care to explain what the hell happened there? I thought you were swallowed by that — that thing!" He gulps, stopping his tracks and turning around to see your face.

"I was scared," you muttered.

He totally understood why you were scared. Because he was just as scared and confused as you when he first discovered who he was, and just like you, he chose to deny it in every way he can, and he hoped that denial can make a change.

"You're not supposed to know about this. I didn't want to put you in this position — of knowing what truly there is." His eyes are sad, like he was a missing child.

The same day Taehyung figured out what he was, his eyes looked exactly the same; with fear, agony, and deprecation.

"So, you're a werewolf?" You felt his pupils dilate.

He looked at you in disbelief as if he hadn't given enough clues yet.

"Werewolf. Shapeshifter. Monster. Dog. Whatever you call it, it wasn’t my choice." His voice was weak, almost ashamed of what he had just said.

"And you kill —"

"Vampires." He finishes your sentence before you could assume. "Just vampires. The cold ones? Those that violate the treaty? They’re real." And so the legends were correct and real, and the evidence stands right in front of you, breathing and staring at you.

But no matter what angle you look at him, he wasn't a monster. He is not what he is described in the fairytales. He wasn't a merciless creature, not even harmful. He was just this young boy who lived near you.

"I get that you're afraid of me. Trust me, so am I."

"I'm not scared of you. If it weren't for you I would be bloodless by now." You bit your lip. "But I'm still a little overwhelmed." You gulped.

He had no words, but he was relieved. And you knew that when his eyes twinkled, the kind he gave you when you were jamming to the songs he had in his truck.

"If it's okay for you, I'm inviting you and Sylvia to my birthday tomorrow. It's just a small gathering."

"Will there be drinks?" you kid.

"Sam doesn't really want me taking any drinks for the meantime." He chuckles.

"Why not?"

"He said that I can't be on alcohol during my first six months of phasing. Why? Do you drink?" he innocently asks.

"Was just teasing." You playfully pushed him before proceeding to walk back in the cabin.

Before you even knew it, Taehyung was irrevocably infatuated with you. He wouldn't have thought that a college girl would give a small attention to someone younger than her, or even finding out about who he truly is and still staying by his side. He had spent so much time denying who he was, but maybe being a werewolf isn't so bad after all, if phasing is what it takes to protect you or anyone at all.

You were just like what he thought you would be — kindred spirits.

The party isn’t filled with loud chats and crowds, it is a gathering. Taehyung tried his best to always stand by your side to give you ease in enjoying such an unfamiliar place as Sylvia gets indulged in conversations with the others, completely forgetting you. Every minute though, he'd have to leave you alone on the couch but he'd return as soon as he can.

There weren't much talks between you and him either, only a couple of smiles exchanged whenever Embry and Quil do something embarrassing in front of the both of you.

It seemed as if the night was the longest night of your life, only occupied with listening to others’ stories and Taehyung sipping a punch from his red cup. He had asked a few questions to keep things interesting, but it was hard to keep the mood flowing. You had asked about his hobbies and all the boring stuff you could think of, and surprisingly he would reply with enthusiasm like he have always wanted to be asked those questions. This makes you more curious how his daily life goes, how many people does he actually talk to.

When the hand of the clock drops at ten, you were just patiently waiting for Sylvia to get on her feet and cut the conversation with the others but she seemed to have consumed more alcohol than she could tolerate and the next thing you knew she was laughing like a maniac. You were stuck in a loop circle of smiling so thinly to everyone you get eye contact with.

You distract yourself with admiring the intricate designs of Taehyung's small home, and the thought of a young Taehyung growing up in where you're sitting currently makes your heart jolt. It's uplifting seeing his pictures on the wall, but there was a difference between his smile before and his smile now. One can easily tell which was more true. You had no clue what it's like to be his kind, hell even now you still can't believe what he is. But it sure shows in the way he had changed judging from the innocent photos that hang on the wooden walls. You've never known him since then, yet you wanted to restore this angel-being beaming at the sight of a camera who now hates being in photos because he thinks he's some sort of a monster.

You wanted to ask him about the pictures, the one where he was wearing a towel with a headband, the one where he was framing his face. All of them speak some kind of connection with you, maybe it's your love for photography that makes you feel this way, but innocence is one of the hardest thing to lay your lenses on.

Then you finally got it. What your professor was talking about, drawing something intangible to your camera. This is what he meant. Your gallery is only filled with landscapes, mostly the aesthetic of architecture and nature. Taehyung is what you needed to change the mood of your photos, not the weather, not the dark ambience of Forks, but his story. If only there's a chance for you to grasp his mystery in a single picture, his adventurous smile in one flash.

A pang of pain in your forehead pulls you back into reality, and the lights that stood above you only made it worse. You needed to leave immediately before the pain has you grunting. Welcomed with a wrapping breeze, you brace yourself and regret wearing the dress Sylvia begged you to wear. She said it was her favorite when she was your age, a Prussian blue dress that stops before your knees with tulle around the hem and a lighter blue ribbon on the chest.

Of course Taehyung who sits beside you would notice your leaving, and before you can inhale the fresh air from the porch, he was already asking what's wrong.

"I don't feel so good. I think I'm gonna have to go home alone since Sylvia's still occupied," you said, pushing on your temples with your thumb and middle finger.

"I can drive you home. I don't think they'd notice that we left, they're all pretty wasted." He chuckles, complementing the high tones of the strong wind that travels past your bodies.

"I'm really sorry. I'm being rude, I mean this is your party... your birthday party and you're going to drive me home."

He places the sippy cup on a coffee table near the entrance, and he was palming his pocket to reach for his keys.

"It's fine, y/n. The party's been dead four hours ago and I can't send you home alone. Do you have the house key or should I go back inside and ask Sylvia for it?"

"She gave me a duplicate. I think it's best we go now. My head's really killing me."

It was unusual, headaches. They rarely come to you since you monitor your phone usage and water intake. You hate getting them because you hated taking meds for it, and you just hoped Sylvia would have a stock of it. Your fingers have been roaming your forehead for a while yet you can't seem to navigate where the pain is, where it's beating. It would be better if you could massage it along the ride but you were struggling to even keep your fingers raised.

Taehyung stops the car in the middle of somewhere as you are hitting your head continuously on the head rest. It was quiet, a deafening silence that rang your ears that brought you to open your eyes. Taehyung wasn't in his seat anymore, only fog filling for his place crawling under your skin.

There was your breathing, crickets, and rustles of trees that travel the air. You weren't sure how to react but one was definite, you were scared. The hand resting on your thigh turning white and wet, breathing faster and heavier as the air seems to be corrupted with toxic poison that does nothing but suffocate you.

Don't get out of the car, don't get out of the car, you chant internally hoping it will help your situation.

"Hello, dear," a slinky voice says through the window, almost similar to the man— vampire from yesterday. Could it be? Could there be more? "Don't make me wait, dear. Open the door and make this easy for the both of us, hm?"

It sounds the exact same as the accent the man had with an alluring tone that draws you to open the door. However, it wasn't just her tempting attempt into convincing you to endanger yourself, the pain in your head inflates as you try to control yourself.

"You want it hard, my dear?" She smirks, you weren't sure but you hear the spread of the corner of her lips.

Then she was in front of the headlights, filled with rage, her eyes dark and dangerous as she showed her predacious teeth. From here, you can feel the vibration of her anger as if she had the ability to let you feel all the harnessed emotions inside her. You can count them one by one: anger, vengeance, and the feeling you get before success. None of them were positive emotions, none of them was mercy. She came here to accomplish one thing.

Your death.

Finally understanding it, inside her browbeating eyes were agony and mourning. She was here to avenge the death of the vampire that Taehyung had killed. She was as beautiful, as seductive with her pale skin and ruby lips, curly strawberry blonde hair that flows until her shoulders.

You discovered that there was a split second of slow agonizing memory of your life before it's taken, and you wished there was none. She runs towards you, careless whether she bashes her head into the glass. She takes your neck, her fingers poking specifically at the sides and right before you can regain your breath your eyes open.

Gasping and catching air, awakening in the seat with Taehyung by your side who drives in silence as Midnight Rambler by The Rolling Stones plays from his rusty stereo.

So if you ever meet the midnight rambler

I'm coming down your marble hall

Well, he's pouncing like a proud black panther

Well, you can say I, I told you so

He sits there, unaware of the chaos that repeats in your head. It all felt so real, the grasp on your neck that locks your throat, you could've sworn you've given your last breath. The pain had stopped, replaced by dizziness that you knew would pass as minutes go by. 

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is there something on my face?"

You shake your head. "I didn't know I was staring."

That's right. You didn't know you were staring. There was so much comfort in knowing he never left, the heat of his presence brings you a feeling of security. It's okay now. Taehyung's still here. By your side.

Once reaching home, Taehyung does his best to assist you as though you were ill. It's cute how he acts that way, so careful, so gentle. Upon reaching your room, Taehyung stops before your bedroom door, almost waiting for an invitation.

"I should get going now. I'll tell Sylvia you felt sick." And before he could say good bye, you're already wrapping yourself in the blankets as he passively makes a step away from your door.

"Taehyung," you said, reaching out. "Thank you for today."

He doesn't turn back. "You're welcome. Also, thank you for coming."

A shiver spreads across your back when your lids start to fall, and your body jolts upwards. The beautiful woman from the early nightmare visits your mind again, her face inches from yours close to ripping it apart.

"Taehyung," you whispered, but he heard you within the thin walls of the lonely house. "Can you... stay for a sec? I... I had a nightmare earlier... felt so real. C-can you?"

He walks back, eyes landing everywhere except your body that waits for him on the bed. Is she serious? he thought as you opened the blankets for a space behind you.

"Until you fall asleep?"

You nod. He kicks off his shoes and he positions himself behind you, both of your breaths synchronizing as he lies down softly. You bury your cheek into the pillow when you feel his warmth wrap the room, the security coming back. You turn your head to see him watching you inches away, his hand keeping his head up as he rests his cheek against it. You take his free hand that lies on his right side, pulling it to your stomach requesting for him to scoot closer until his body brushes your back.

You can stay like this, for longer than you can imagine. Just the sounds of your breaths and the hums of his loud thumping heart that makes its way to your upper back, the release of breath from his nostrils that flies over your hair. Peaceful. Safe and sound.

In his embrace, you forget everything: the packing for Los Angeles, the fear of not getting into any university, the supernatural that you had discovered that you still cannot comprehend, the clouding fear that something is coming to get you. In his arm, it's like they never existed. The worries are nothing but disappearing sea foams, a water in heat that evaporates into thin air.

You enclose the hold in Taehyung's hand above your stomach, intertwining them for ease. Falling back into his embrace, he subtly moves away hoping you wouldn't notice. His warmth turning into heat, breathing ragged, hold on you tighter and stronger. Then you feel it, a gentle thrust behind you and he pretends to adjust position. He pulls you closer with the hand on your stomach and you sigh which caused a poking at your butt.

You may not be the smartest person on earth, but it doesn't take a book to know what it was. Taehyung murmurs an apology, his words passing by your neck which sends your stomach into a spiral. You rub your thighs together hoping to dissipate the throbbing in your core, not now.

Not now that Taehyung's beside you. Or maybe it should be now that Taehyung's beside you, you were open for a helping hand. His hand over your head tucks a strand of your hair, the finger brushing on your temple made your aching much harder to ignore. There would be no distraction, no having to worry about who will hear the both of you, for God's sake the house was built in the middle of nowhere, so you thought 'Fuck it.'

You tug his hand to the middle of your chest, to rest them between your breasts as your head turns to face him. He gulps, looking at you intently with lust hovering over his hooded eyes. You lean towards him, your lips reaching his and he pulls away for a second before diving back in. He had pillowy lips, and if it weren't for your hot need at the moment you would let your lips sleep on them for a longer while, but as of right now there are a lot of tensions that need handling.

You leave his hand on your chest while he's still shy to grope one of your breasts. Your hand then wrapping the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, he sighs. That sigh caused the aching to grow, shaking your behind to feel how needy he was and he sighs again. His hand that was on your chest now pushes below the curves of your breasts to pull you closer, to have more friction, to thrust into you.

Until he couldn't take it anymore, he wants you below him as much as you want him on top of you. He hovers above you, his knee swift in spreading your thighs open and he is bucking in a steady pace on your clothed entrance.

"Take me, Taehyung," you breathe the second he leaves your lips.

He takes it slow, burning your insides, as his fingers pull the bow on your chest, untying the effortless knot you had made in the mirror. Too slow to keep up with your throbbing heat, you trail his hand to open the loose front, exposing

your nude bra. His eyes are pinned on yours, and you would make quick glances at his moderate hand you're directing. You unclasp the front of your bra, and when he hears it setting on the bed, he kisses you as if asking if you were really sure. Beneath the feverish endless kiss were words of fear from him, what if he wasn't truly ready.

The last time he had experienced this was long ago, a time before he knew how dangerous he could be. Careless of what his hands could bring, when he hadn't given a single thought for any of his actions. Well, it was one time, only once with the first girl he had ever loved. And the first was always the quickest, but it was unforgettable, he had kept every detail of her daisy fresh skin remembered under his fingertips. The laughs they had shared in between, a significance of the innocence they were about to lose. His head loses in doubts, questions that can only be answered if he risks hurting you tonight.

Then you whisper, "It's okay, you're not going to hurt me." Because in your mind, that was the last thing in his abilities. You smile, "It's okay." Rubbing circles at the back of his trembling hand, his jaw clenches.

Once he had started kissing you again, you parted his lips with your tongue in which he had replied with a tender bite causing you to moan within your throat. This motivates him to grope your breast, aggressing as seconds pass by, pulling a nipple in between his fingers and you arch your back. You rest your feet on his back, synchronizing with the movement of his hips. You admire the way his head moves downward, stopping after every inch of your skin to place a soft kiss until he reaches your breasts to which he places a long stripe lick moving from one bud to another while his eyes remain on yours. He's going to be the death of you.

You pant, trying to reach his hips that came to a halt. His hands pushing the hem of your dress higher, stopping at the middle of your waist. And his evil slow hands, still taking his time, move behind your thighs to pull them away from his back and placing them on his shoulders as he gets comfortable right between them. With gaze pierced on yours, he flats his lips on your clothed slit, tracing the wet spot visible in your white underwear. The thought of you being almost naked underneath the dress ever since earlier brought Taehyung into insanity, he could've fucked you with his fingers on the couch, he could've removed them and left your pussy out in the open as he keeps it in his pocket, he could've done so many things if only he knew earlier how much you'd wanted him just the same.

You look at the empty ceiling, too affected by the darkness in his stare, you were scared you would cum too quickly if you remain watching. He pulls your garment upward to put his bare thumb against your clit, until you couldn't take it and you look down again to see him putting the said thumb in his mouth. Sweeter than the cranberry juice he'd been tolerating to drink, adding that to the list he could've done earlier while your panties were in his pocket; enjoying the sweet fervor of your cunt on his tongue. He plays at your clit, tongue curling to lap up the wetness that increases as his spit mixes in. He knows so well what he's doing, the fragile scoop of his bottom lip from your opening to your clit where he stops.

Everywhere around his lips glistens as the bright light from the hallway outside your room shines upon them. His hands still holding your thighs steady, he slips his tongue inside you which has you shaking and he had to adjust the control in his grip. Once they've settled, he puts his touch above your breasts, flicking both buds in each hand.

You were crumbling under him, desperate for release, grunting in a throaty voice as you tried to keep yourself together. Tears huddle in your eyes, blurring your vision until he stops, now smiling above you while he pulls your underwear away from your body. It doesn't take long for him to get naked and you take time to admire his build. His skin was made of honey, toned and reflective of the warmth he emits. His cock slapping his tummy before he could fully get out of his tight boxers, his tip reaching his button.

He returns to his position between your thighs but this time around he was the one to wrap your legs around his waist. His shaft falls between your slit and he makes subtle movements in burying himself between them.

"I just want to say," he began, "how amazing you are." A gravelly moan of your name escapes his lips as you take matters in your own hand, thumb going over the head of his cock while the rest of your fingers rest wraps his cock.

He thrusts into your hand. His face forming wrinkles, frustration painted across his face. Until he falls on both arms caging your head, bucking for more friction, enjoying the suppleness of your touch. He was groaning, panting, and making a mess of himself to which all echoes from one wall to another. You put a hand on his abdomen to break his movement. He obeys, feeling you part yourself for his cock, torturously slow in entering you.

You pull your hands to your sides, getting a hold of Taehyung's biceps. Opening your lids to watch his pupils dilate as he rams the rest of his length inside your beating entrance.

"Y/n," he groans, brow knotting together when you clench around him. He's going to fall apart, he thought. You wrap him tighter, letting go of yourself in ecstasy, careless whether you melt into the bed or break it, all is well as long as you're looking into his eyes.

He chants your name again and again in a symphony of continuous moaning, and all you could say is how good he sounds. A compilation of ah's and oh's whenever he reaches your spot, his head brushing against it and it felt like nothing but heaven. More, he wants more, if only he could fuck you endlessly he would. The bed hits the wall in coordination of his sharp thrusts, and he's losing himself in you he couldn't care less if he breaks the walls. In sync with the sounds he makes were your gasps and high-pitched whispers of his name that he can see himself in the near future thinking of them and fucking himself alone in his room as he recalls them.

"Tae— oh fuck, Taehyung," you cried out causing his cock to twitch inside you, you call out for more. His name and a couple of curses were the only words you could spew out. Trembling, you feel an explosion of euphoria inside you, letting go of the tight grip around Taehyung's arm.

With one last fluid thrust, he pulls himself out and spills himself on top of your stomach. Both of your breathing slows until they were no longer audible. He rolls to his back beside you waiting to cool down and you take care of yourself by wiping his cum away with the tissue from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry, I made a mess," he says, breaking silence.

You didn't reply, instead you lie on your side to face him and wrap his cock in your warm hand. His cock still hard and wet under your touch, he breathes out a long sigh. "I made a mess of you too."

He chuckles before placing one last kiss on your forehead, and you watch him fall into his dreams. You shut the door, thankful Sylvia didn't come home during the circumstances earlier. You make a note not to leave it open next time.

Next time? Were you actually hoping for a next time? It's not long until you're leaving. Forks is not your home. Your home is on the other side of the country, and everything you grew up with awaits there. Forks is not your home, you tell yourself. The night grows along with your need for sleep, falling onto Taehyung's chest and getting lost in a slumber. You wake to Sylvia opening the door, an indication of her coming home, and you fall asleep again.

The next time you wake up, the sun shining alight from the windows to your eyes, Taehyung was sitting at the end of the bed fully clothed. His head turns slightly, feeling the sense of your waking.

"Y/n, there's not just one who wants to kill you," he says but you couldn't make out a single word, "there's a whole coven of them."

a/n: happy new year! pls dont take the bella comment seriously. also team jacob ftw!!! also appreciate my banner work owo.this is my first descriptive smut like i actually write them having sex idk i hope yall like it tho :* i love y’all! 

[toujoursmiraculous]

Thoughts and Reaction to ROCKETEAR!

It's a long post, but when are these ever really short? xD Seeing Carapace first made me so excited. I've been sad we haven't had much of him in the show. And then I saw that it seemed like Ladynoir was doing pretty good as they only had Carapace helping them this time. More S2 & S3 like. So I was like cool, cool, this is great. But what the heck scientist WHY ARE YOU BRINGING TYRANNOSAURUS REX'S BACK! Obviously she's going to be something big later on, she's too nicely animated not to be back. Not to mention Bob Roth's plans. Anyone else both intrigued but also scared at what that could do later? Big upcoming plot point, I think.

I screamed awwww because this is everything. I've wanted a LB/Carapace and Marinette/Nino friendship bond in this show since season 1. This scene made me incredibly happy! I'm a huge Nino fan, for those that don't know, so you can imagine how much I love this episode. Even though sad Nino.

"Alya, everyone has to believe that you will never use the Miraculous again!" End of episode: So anyway... So what I'm seeing here is, Alya's not fond of the idea of being just a spy, not being in on the action. Even though it's Ladybug's plan. Chat Noir isn't fond of what's going on right now either, where he thinks what's going on is all Ladybug's plans. Alya makes the decision to not do what Ladybug wants and tells Nino she's still Rena Rouge. So what's Chat Noir going to do to go against her? Because that's coming up on the horizon. Despite everything being easier for Marinette since everything's not just on her shoulders now, she's still been unable to play video games with her dad, and we know how much she loves doing that. :c That's really sad she doesn't even have time for her family anymore. DJWifi over here being all adorable. "You don't love me anymore!" Me: *Chat Blanc flashbacks* Alya suggests her new content could be Chat Noir edits and Marinette's like YES DO THOSE. Then those edits helped push Nino into thinking she was into Chat. Big oops. Not gonna lie, the rewind freaked me out for a moment. Last time I saw that was Chat Blanc so I thought something big was up. But nope, it's just like that scene in Puppeteer 2. Ugh poor Nino! He knows something's bothering Alya, but she won't say what it is and her behavior's too off from how she normally is. Poor guy. x.x Grumpy Nino that Carapace doesn't get attention and then they wrote his girlfriend with Chat Noir. I remember when Alya was grumpy for a bit about Rena Rouge not getting a party to celebrate her. Movie Ladybug telling Movie Chat Noir that he's better with Movie Rena Rouge. Is this a reference to the episode in Avatar, The Ember Island Players? Getting strong vibes when Play Aang and Play Katara were like, we're just friends nothing more and it's great! Play Katara was extremely into Play Zuko. I can see why Ladybug dismissed the movie (or was it the previous one since it's been awhile? Maybe?) because Rena Rouge and Chat Noir???? The writers (of the movie) just wanted to be different because everyone can see Ladynoir, unless they're blind. Alya and Nino are Andre's favorite couple. YES THANK YOU. I mean they're not my favorite because Love Square. BUT they're my second favorite next to them. Those kids are super adorable but definitely that kid playing Chat wasn't doing Nino any favors. First picture Alya shows. Chat with a heart tail. Yeah that's not doing her any favors lol. Nino: UGH CHAT NOIR'S COMING IN BETWEEN ME AND MY GIRLFRIEND. I KNOW, I'LL CALL MY BEST FRIEND TO VENT TO ABOUT IT. Best Friend Chat Noir: Best Friend Chat Noir: Welp maybe I should see what's up. Maybe I went a little to hard on the cat charm and she's fallen in love with me. Me: Oh oof here we go. Also can I ask, if anyone knows, who animated this episode? The fluidity is great and it looks really pretty. But it doesn't quite look like SAMG's work either. Whoever did it, I love it. S2 Chat Noir: You're not replacing me with a turtle, are you? :c S4 Nino: Who would want a reckless turtle as a partner? BOYS STOP. But yeah this whole scene had me laughing so hard XD Very dramatic and I love it. Nino's hilarious even when he's worried and sad! I would've absolutely loved to have heard this in English with the old English voice of Nino, but the new one worries me on whether or not he'll do a good job sounding like Nino and less high-pitched and whiny. :/ New York Nino was great but S4 Nino....x.x THE TRANSITION BETWEEN HIS INNER MONOLOGUE AND SPEAKING REGULARLY AGAIN 😂😂😂😂 Brilliant! It doesn't really feel like Miraculous Ladybug this episode, and I love it. Not that I don't love the show as usual but wow this is great. Okay, I want to point out that Chat Noir

probably was more worried about it than he would've been otherwise because of what happened with Marinette in Weredad. It probably made him more cautious about this sort of thing.

LOL Chat's sulking because Alya's laughing at the idea of being interested in him. 😂😂 I know that's a blow to one's ego and all, and he's dealt with this kind of thing a lot so I do feel bad for him, but that is his best friend's girlfriend and he definitely doesn't want her to like him. Alya: With him it's not just ❤️it's *makes massive hand gesture indicating she loves him deeply* SO SO SO CUTE OKAY ALL THIS DJWIFI 😭 Alya: And I don't even know your secret identity! I would never fall in love with someone I don't know. Chat Noir, literally fell in love with Ladybug, whose identity he doesn't know. Well Alya, I wonder if you saying that matters for later somehow.... o.O Nino running away crying is honestly one of the things that hurts me most in the entire show. Ugh. Adrien over here being all, I'm having a good day. I'm happy and smiling and it's great. And then it wasn't. Adrien, if Nino let him and didn't interrupt, would've told him about how Alya really doesn't love Chat Noir, and that would've seriously led up to his identity being exposed since Nino was watching and filmed them. o.o Did you notice how he was going to tell him about it? S4, the basement is where it's at. Adrien: Uhh, when did you arrange all this? Nino: *pounds fist on desk* I ASK THE QUESTIONS! 😂 So like. Why is Nino interrogating Adrien when he's after Chat Noir? He doesn't know they're the same person. XD He's looking at him like Adrien has info he's keeping or something omg.

Also again this animation is so nice. Adrien, feeling uncomfortable and so turns the music off. Nino, wanting his dramatic music on while he interrogates Adrien, turns it back on. Adrien, feeling even more irritated and uncomfortable, wants the music OFF and turns it off. Nino, turns the music back on. This may be a reference to something, I don't know, but lolol it's so funny. This episode is both super hilarious and super angsty! Honestly they've done such a good job in my opinion. Nino: I'm talking about something that I shouldn't tell you! ...but I'm going to tell you anyway! Alya's Rena Rouge and I'm Carapace! Okay but the way Adrien went from shock to utter anger, knocked his chair back and grabbed Nino's shoulders like "Tell me the truth. You two know about each other?" Aw man, my poor sunshine boy. A lot of the stuff bothering Adrien is all circumstantial, none of it is to purposefully keep him in the dark. And yet from his perspective, that's how it looks. "I thought secret identities must be protected at all times! If that was the truth, you would never tell me this!" Alright so three things. If he's referring to him saying that Nino and Alya know about each other, that was situational and important info for him to know now that this is out. It wasn't important to know before this. The time it happened was dire and was really no time to get around it. If he's talking about Nino telling him the secrets, well yeah that's not supposed to happen and Nino broke that trust. But also, I get the feeling pretty strongly at this point Adrien's going to be breaking some rules too and one of which is he's going to tell Nino who he is. Adrien's being too emotional in this scene to not be involved in it all, I'm wondering if that's going to be questioned later by Nino. He's acting like he knows too much to be a random viewer of the heroes like the rest of Paris. Also Adrien's best friend just totally dissed Chat Noir and went off about how he throws himself at Ladybug whenever he sees her with roses and love confessions. 😂😂😂 This is just too funny! "But he's always rejected because Ladybug finds him annoying! And she's completely right!" Omg Nino, that's not the reason anymore, shush! "And then Rena Rouge appears and he goes *tickles under Adrien's chin* hey pretty lady! You look elegant and you have great perfume." OMG does Chat Noir actually say and do stuff like that to Rena Rouge or is he just exaggerating here XD "If I could I would shut his mouth forever!" Yeah Nino, say what you really think about your best friend in the entire world. Yikes poor Adrien though. I never imagined he'd hear all these bad things about himself from his best friend directly like that. :/ That's a major misunderstanding of him. Which kind of pushes me more towards the "he's going to tell Nino" theory. Sad Adrien transformation DDDX Alya: *explained everything about why Chat Noir went over to her house in the middle of the night* Marinette *facepalm* Ugh that Chat Noir... Well at least there will be no misunderstandings there! xD "Chat Noir, you stole Alya from me! I will steal your life from you." Good lord man calm down. You can't just kill a man! Fanon: Chat Noir gets attacked by a guy over Marinette. Canon: Chat Noir gets attacked by a guy over Alya. Time to go back to the basement! lol Nino's music's still playing xD And the video is left with it paused on Chat Noir hugging Alya. Marinette looked a bit sad, but it was probably more about the situation being a mess rather than being sad he'd hug her. Meanwhile, Chat Noir's fighting Nino and would rather get beaten up by him than fight. x.x "I can't believe that I doubted you." "I can't believe I chose to do anything but be with you!" She wiped away akumatized Nino's tear just like how Ladybug wiped away akumatized Chat Noir's. ALL THE PARALLELS 😭😭😭 But that hug is so sweet!! Nino broke off the akumatization just like Alya did :o Dang, I wonder if that means something later too. "Love and secrets do not go well together, Ladybug. And I'm sure you have a lot of

them!" Secrets = from Chat Noir. Love = for Chat Noir. Yeah even Shadow Moth knows at this point. xP Thanks for that foreshadowing. Nino's charm is my favorite charm so far! It's my favorite shade of blue. Chat Noir: Everybody has doubts sometimes...even me." Ladybug: Is everything okay, Chat Noir? Chat: Oh yes...pound it!

So um. The placemet of Adrien's poster in between Chat Noir, Ladybug, and just with this entire situation feels very strange. Very intentional. But no clue exactly what that could mean..... Nino and Alya are happy over there watching those two, like they're waiting for them to figure things out or something. But really, Adrien should've talked to Ladybug when he could still do so calmly and be reasonable. I doubt that's going to be the case later on. And honestly Ladybug doesn't even know what's going on. Every episode we've seen really either has them working together or she's unable to be Ladybug when he's unable to be Chat Noir most of the time. I've said it before but these two really need to communicate. Nino and Alya are like a less adorably romantic version of what they'd be. "But they're a couple and they know their secret identities, so why does that rule exist for us but they can know?" Very simple. Because they were temporary holders and the Miraculous they had, Hawk Moth hasn't made it his life's mission to obtain, unlike them, who are permanent holders and Hawk Moth's been after them fiercely to make a Wish that could destroy everything. But. The fact he's asking this, and Marinette's Chat Blanc nightmare, really points in the direction that he's going to eventually find out that while she's thought about telling him all along, Chat Blanc's kept her from doing so.

Okay, so while it looks like he's staring up at the moon, if you notice, it really is just one of the pink bubbles.

Now, they could be making it seem like it's the moon though to give it a double meaning. But poor Kitty, he's feeling so awful right now over in that dark corner Dx Nino felt bad for only two episodes? and it got resolved, so hopefully this all won't last too much longer for him! Marinette had a few shaky episodes so hopefully he'll have a few before it gets resolved. But somehow I think that may be wishful thinking. This episode was so amazing, honestly. Wonderful writing, made me laugh a lot, aw a lot, and hurt a lot. It focused on the core 4 characters which I've wanted more of for a long time. The animation was beautiful. And it just felt so different in such a good way. Chat Noir's having a hard time right now, and I know there's a lot of anger and hate about it going around. But please, think of this as him hitting a rough spot in the road to a much better and brighter future. He's going to end up okay, he'll understand it all someday. And that day's honestly not that far for him if you think about it.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 5 of 27: You

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 4

A/N: A chapter from a different perspective! I hope you all like it <3 And thank you so much for your support!! I love you all so muuuuuch!!!

Words: 2300 Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!Reader, post-war Warnings: none

Draco Malfoy wasn’t easy to impress. Being bored quickly by other people was one reason why he never had many close friends – and yes, he knew how utterly arrogant that sounded. It was the truth however. He was friendly with most of the Slytherins but his mother always taught him “Quality over quantity” and he agreed. Draco went so far as to apply that mindset to his love life as well. Yes, before the sixth year of school, he used to like to flirt and he had dated the occasional Slytherin girl. He was also very aware of the fact that there had been quite a few girls with crushes on him. In some cases, he even reciprocated them, however, those feelings faded quickly.

So you couldn’t imagine how much it bothered Malfoy that he wasn’t able to stop thinking of you. Not even in his dreams did you leave him alone and so he kept on going back to that evening on the Quidditch field. Until today, it was entirely unclear to him why he told you all those things. He didn’t know anything about you yet speaking to you left him feeling … good, almost. After a year of trials and coming home to find his family and life in shambles, there was no one left to talk to. No one he wanted to talk to. To whom was he going to turn? His friends which were all coming from the same pureblood Death Eater families? Yes, of course, they understood – and also they didn’t. Not quite. Did you understand him? Probably not, he guessed. After all, you were a Gryffindor and fought on the right side of the war. The winning side. But talking to you felt different, almost easy. You grew up in another world than him and maybe that was the key to it all.

Obviously, Draco didn’t plan on repeating that evening. You were friends with the whole Potter and Weasley bunch. It made it even harder to trust you – how could he be sure you hadn’t already told your Gryffindor friends and were laughing about him behind his back? It was possible. A part of him didn’t want to believe this possibility and another part reminded him of all the times he was disappointed and got hurt by the people around him. It was probably for the best to stay away from you.

Yet he didn’t stop thinking of you. He saw you looking at him in the Great Hall during meals, watched you from walk away when you passed him in hallways and the library. Without noticing it, he always chose a place behind you in class. Draco didn’t understand the urge to be close to you. It was utterly ridiculous for Merlin’s sake. You were a Gryffindor; one of the good ones. He wasn’t. Not at all.

Maybe it was because of the kiss, he wondered at some point. Maybe you hexed him in this moment. Draco knew this theory was very far-fetched but it was the only logical explanation fin his mind. Why else would he keep thinking back to that moment in the storage room? He didn’t deny that you were witty and smart and very beautiful – he wasn’t blind after all – but so were lots of girls. What the hell was so special about you that you wouldn’t leave his thoughts?! It couldn’t be your taste in men as you obviously didn’t have any. At least there wasn’t a reasonable explanation for him for why someone like you would get with someone like the Weasel.

“Draco,” Blaise’s voice pulled him out of this thoughts. “You coming?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, just a second.”

He got up from the table in their shared dorm, putting his notebook in the drawer of his nightstand. Two months since school started and he had almost filled in all of its pages. Draco started writing during the first trial of his parents last year. It kept him focused and helped him put his thoughts in order. It soon became a daily ritual which helped him stay grounded. Draco carried it around in his bag during the day, using it in between classes and meals. His friends caught him doing it a lot and he was sure they had already guessed what it was. He was glad when they didn’t say anything because in the end, Draco would have rather died before admitting that he was using a diary.

“You’re not wearing a costume!”, Astoria exclaimed when he joined the others in the common room. Pansy, Blaise, Theodore and the Greengrass sisters were already waiting for him.

There was a Halloween party happening in the Room of Requirements tonight and his friends had convinced him to go even though it meant more awkward conversations with Astoria.

“I thought we’re not doing muggle traditions. What are you supposed to be?”, he asked instead, taking in her revealing outfit.

She giggled. “I’m a healer. Or ‘nurse’ as the muggles call it.”

“Ah,” Draco made, thinking that she didn’t look like a healer at all. “I thought Halloween was supposed to be scary?”

Astoria rolled her eyes, before linking their arms with each other. “You’re no fun. Don’t you think I look pretty?”

“Astoria, you can wear a potato sack and still look absolutely stunning.”

That answer seemed to satisfy her and they started making their way towards the exit of the common room. Draco glanced at her from the side. She was, objectively speaking, the perfect match for a Malfoy. Coming from a well-respected and wealthy pureblood family combined with her intelligence and beauty, she was everything his parents could have wanted for him. Especially now.

You had told him what to do. It was such a simple solution to all of his impending problems. However, it had been the moment where Draco had realized that you grew up differently. Not a day went by where he didn’t receive a heartbreaking letter from his mother. He knew, she just wanted the best for him and she didn’t want to manipulate him; she was simply desperate. Desperate for the live they used to have – a husband at home, a son with a promising future, money and a respected place in society.

Draco had asked himself countless times what the marriage would truly mean. His family would have another chance. Together with Astorias family, his future was secured. A good job, maybe even in the ministry if he was lucky. Enough money to take care of his mother. Who knew, maybe his father would be out of Azkaban sooner? Draco marrying Astoria would lessen his families suffering, that was for sure. But did he want that? Did he want a simple and easy solution to make their past crimes … disappear? His family was far from innocent. They had committed horrible crimes in the name of the Dark Lord – and a part of him knew, they deserved everything they got in the end. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they sent his mother and him to Azkaban as well.

When thinking about the engagement, another thought popped into his head. Could he learn to love Astoria? Would he be happy with her? Maybe. Maybe not. Draco knew only one thing for sure – there was a reason why he kept resisting to the whole idea. Giving in felt like sacrificing another part of himself to something his family had burdened him with.

“And Astoria, I disagree,” Blaise once again disrupted his train of thought by joining in from the right. “Draco can quickly make his costume appear. Just roll up your sleeves, Dray, and the Gryffindors will shit their pants on the spot.”

The rest of the group snickered but Draco didn’t react. Instead he suppressed the urge to touch the mark on his left arm and shoved his hand deeper into the pocket of his pants.

 ***

The Room of Requirement was absolutely crowded.

The Slytherins were surprised by how many people had actually appeared. Almost everyone from the sixth and seventh grade was here, wearing mostly ridiculous costumes. Music roared from invisible speakers, students were dancing and talking loudly.

“I’m surprised that the teachers didn’t already break this up,” Blaise almost had to shout. “Or Filch.”

Draco shrugged. “I feel like they stopped caring this year.”

“Maybe they feel responsible for all those deaths,” Theo suggested.

“So to make up for all the trauma, they allow us to party?”, Blaise concluded with an amused undertone.

“It’s good for us though so stop talking and start drinking,” Pansy chirped and grabbed Draco and Theo by their arms, pulling them towards the table with a few questionable bottles.

When his friends started chatting about the usual Hogwarts gossip, Draco’s eyes started to wander. He was searching the crowd for someone. You. Were you here? Did you even like parties? Draco had no idea. You always looked quite social from what he witnessed.

And there you were – standing in a group of people, listening to Granger who was gesticulating wildly. You were holding a drink and laughing at whatever the other girl told you. Draco noticed from across the room how your eyes were gleaming, your face red from the alcohol. You looked so careless. He swallowed hard at the sight.

“He’s either staring at Weasley, the mudblood or Y/L/N,” Zabini said to the others in that moment. “Don’t know what’s worse.”

Draco needed a second to understand his friends were talking about him. “What did you just say?” He turned to them.

Zabini grinned widely at him. “I said, you’re staring at the Gryffindors again, Draco. It’s fucking weird. What’s your sudden obsession with them?”

Draco quickly glanced at the rest of his friends. Daphne, Theodore and Pansy watched the two of you with a smirk on their lips, maybe even suppressing a giggle. Astoria looked at Draco with a worried expression.

“No, what did you just say?”, Draco repeated his question, straightening up slightly. “What did you call Granger?”

Blaise snorted. “What?”

Draco just stared at him.

“I called her a mudblood,” Blaise gave a half shrug.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Blaise,” Draco spat out.

“Come on, Dray,” Theodore tried to intervene. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is!” He looked at him, visibly disgusted.

“What’s your problem, Draco?”, Blaise raised an eyebrow, shifting from one leg to another. “You called her a mudblood for years and now you suddenly have a problem with it? You’re acting so weird this year, seriously.”

Before Draco was able to reply, Astoria carefully placed her hand on his arm. It took all the strength he had, not to immediately shake her off. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s get you a new drink and calm down.” She pulled him a few steps away from the group.

Draco gritted his teeth, remembering what he had thought about not being able to talk to his old friends. They understood – and also they didn’t.

“Are you okay, Draco?” Astoria asked, still looking slightly alarmed.

Draco looked at her. Did she want to hear an honest answer? “Sure,” he finally said.

She didn’t buy it. “You’ve been acting strange for a while now.”

“I’m really not.”

“Draco,” she reached for his hand. “I know you.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Can we … can we not talk about this now? Here? With all these people around us?”

“There’s always a reason not to talk so we might as well do it here,” she pressed on.

Draco could think of a thousand different things he’d rather do than talk to her right now. “I’m … I’m not acting strange. It’s just a lot. With my parents and all that.”

Her smile changed from worried to pity. “I understand.” Did she? “That’s why I think we should move on.”

What kind of weird reaction was this? “Move on?”, Draco frowned.

“With our engagement.”

“Right.”

Astoria squeezed his hand. “I don’t see why we can’t just make it official.”

Draco looked at her fingers as if he was searching for a ring that he had forgotten existed. “Because the whole thing isn’t official yet,” he slowly said.

The brunette let go of his hand. “It’s going to happen anyways. My parents won’t stop talking about it and I bet it’s no different for your mother.”

Draco just wanted to get out of this situation. He got dragged here and now it was just one big argument. Why couldn’t they have stuck to gossiping and partying? “Why during school though?”

He saw how Astoria stared at the ground for a moment. When she started speaking again, her voice had become a little colder. “You know, there are a lot of men who would jump at this opportunity. My family is well respected and yours is …”

Draco let out a short whistle. “Thanks, Astoria,”

Astoria was visibly uncomfortable and Draco wondered if she regretted what she had just said. “That’s not how I meant it and you know that, Dray. I just don’t understand why this takes you so long.”

Draco put his hands on hips, pushing his jacket back. “Excuse me if I’m wrong,” he started, “But I’m not exactly your first choice either, am I?”

The girl didn’t answer right away. When she did though, Draco wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what my parents want. Pureblood marriages will happen less and less in the future so we will be a good union.”

“Right,” Draco mumbled with a sad smile. It’s all about the family.

Astoria cleared her throat. “Well, are there any reasons why we shouldn’t move on?”

“Yes, there are.”

This didn’t come from Draco or Astoria. Irritated by the sudden interruption, he turned around to see who had so rudely eavesdropped on the conversation.

You.

***

A/N: Even though I wrote this, I really felt for Draco in this chapter. His life (like so many other characters lives in HP) is so f****** up. Sorry but I can’t find a better word for it. Poor Draco. Anyways - I hope you liked it!! I’d love to hear what you think <3 I love reading your comments *-* (if you don’t comment or do anything, it’s fine, don’t worry, I just love to read your thoughts <3)

CHAPTER 6

“Choose Me Instead”-Masterlist HP-Masterlist

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If you want to be added to my tag list, let me know <3

[my-writings-and-musings]

Firstly, I've just been dying to tell you I love your writting x3 it's absolutely fantastic! My favorite is the young liason ones. I think they're just the cutest! Would it be alright if I requested Fortress Maximus and Brainstorm for that? Please take all the time you need, and I hope you have an awesome day! You rock :D

Awww thanks a million!! I do strive to provide the cuteness, and I shall do so here! I'll also link the past Liaison posts for those who haven't read them yet!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

(I've already done Fort Max in part four but I just couldn't help doing him again with a different setup.)

Fortress Maximus

·Stuck in his cell after his "incident", he's unaware of the liaison program when it initially begins, and is thus clueless of what goes on beyond his tiny space in the dark. Amongst the crew, the young humans quickly learn of the ship's considerable history in its short run, including the hostage situation that nearly cost them their beloved psychiatrist. The humans are shocked by the details, but none more so than the news the bot responsible is jailed up in the depths of the ship. All at once, they begin to question such a practice; wasn't this poor bot just acting out of pain? Hasn't his victim recovered and forgiven him? Being told that Fort Max is too dangerous to risk does nothing to dissuade them, and thanks to their youth, the gathered group soon hatches a plan to see something for themselves.

·As one might expect, Fort Max is beyond surprised when he's awoken at night by a number of very tiny visitors to his cell, and is shocked to see that they're all human! Autobot training kicking in, he's immediately concerned for their safety and gets on his knees to encourage them to leave. Lots of these prisoners are dangerous! To top off his shock, the humans say they're not lost and are there for him. They explain the new program with the Lost Light, how they heard his story, and how they're all here now to see him. For an instant Fort Max is speechless, because these tiny humans have just done more for him than the entire Autobot cause ever did. It takes more willpower than he cares to admit not to let his voice crack.

·Despite all of his assurance to the liaisons that what he did was wrong, and that he deserves to face punishment, they hear none of it. Even urging them to leave and stay on the safe parts of the ship go unheeded. They've decided that they like him and don't want him to be lonely. It's incredibly selfish, but he can't bring himself to deny the comfort their company brings him. Every night, with stealth granted by their tiny size, they visit him for as long as they can. Some bring games and entertainment from earth to share with him, and in time he gives up trying to convince them to stop, finding each one of them to be a treasure he just can't give up.

·It's mostly by bad luck they're eventually caught. Ultra Magnus just so happened to be conducting a late night inspection when he came across all the liaisons gathered about the supposedly deadly Fortress Maximus in what appeared to be a slumber party. The former Enforcer had immediately called for back up and demanded the children be released, not backing down when they all made the baffling move to clamor between the cell bars and shield the gigantic Autobot with their tiny frames. No amount of explaining the big bots potential danger could make them leave. Eventually Rung himself had to be summoned to mediate, and at the sight of Fort Max so carefully cradling his friends and begging that any punishment only come to him so they would be spared... The psychiatrist happily declared there was no need for such caution.

·Put on the spot, Ultra Magnus had decided to allow a partial commutation of the bots sentence. Though he's under watch and isn't permitted to have weapons, he's allowed to have his own room and far greater range of the ship, but under supervision. The liaisons accept only after Max does. In no time they're helping him settle into his room, bringing him housewarming gifts, and coming over as often as possible to visit. It almost doesn't feel real to the poor bot. In an almost comical turn of events he's been freed and has gone from loneliness to being surrounded by tiny, loving friends. Even Rung visits from time to time, joining in on the fun and making it clear he holds no ill will towards the big bot for anything that happened. As they all gather for another movie night together, it occurs to him that his painful past has never felt so far away, and for the first time in so long he feels ready for the future.

Brainstorm

·Ever the on the move genius, his curiosity had been piqued the instant he heard humans were going to be on the ship, as a new species is always a fascinating opportunity. He's not all dissapointed by the gaggle of bright eyed youngsters when he finally meets them. Their tour of the ship is quickly guided to his workshop, and in no time he's showing them all the fun ways he's breaking physics or on the cusp of doing so. Pretty soon the rest of the tour is delayed so they can see absolutely everything he's working on. Brainstorm finds their attitude of "science just because" to be monumentally refreshing in the wake of his occasionally stiff crewmembers. Why does he need a reason to experiment on certain things? Sometimes it's fun and invigorating to just invent something because you can!

·As he finds them incredibly motivating and they love helping however he can, he quickly gives each human permission to accompany him as his assistants. With their unique human perspective, he finds himself seeking out ideas that could benefit them directly, whether it's purely for their entertainment or for more practical purposes. Their need for "food" in particular offers a great deal of potential. He's not foolish about it, of course! These little guys are delicate! But if he can make delicious meals that can be stored easily and prepared instantly, why not? Humans need to eat multiple times every single day, why not make it easier and more fun! The hardest part proves to be getting them not to explode...

·The liaisons come to love the incredible energy he brings to every single experiment, and the feeling is mutual. Even if he doesn't understand the references to "Bill Nye" or other such things, he happily allows the humans to take selfies as he works. Spreading the word to their fellows on earth can only help their species catch up, after all. In time though, he starts to socialize with the group outside of his workshop, even bringing them to Swerve's with him to introduce them to all his friends. They stick to him the entire time even though their enthusiasm proves popular with every bot on the ship. Having often struggled to fit in, he finds the feeling of belongings refreshing in ways he never could have anticipated it might be. He'd protect each and every liaison with his life.

·It's quite unexpected when somebot brings up his... stunt, with the briefcase. He'd been so happy for once that his failures had simply... not registered. Thus, he's caught off guard when the humans start asking baffled questions. It's all he can do to mumble an excuse and leave, the confusion in their bright eyes burning into the core of his spark. So many instances of them looking up at him with respect and excitement now seem far more precious, because there's no way they'll ever want to be around him again. Now they know he isn't just the ship's eccentric scientist, and that at his most desperate he tore time and space apart... In hindsight, how could he have allowed himself to forget? He's dangerous, and the liaisons should have been kept distant to begin with... Humans are far too delicate to risk anything happening, and he never would have forgiven himself for allowing harm to come to them.

·Unbeknownst to Brainstorm, the entire group was far from aghast at his actions. If anything, they were heartbroken for his sake. To have been so desperate he'd happily tried to erase himself from existence, in part to save a bot he loved... They want at least to talk to him. Using skills he taught them, they hack past the gridlock on his workshop, and the scientist is shocked by their effort. Before he can say a word they're surrounding him and offering the most effusive of reasurances, particularly regarding how they never want to lose their beloved science bot, and he takes it upon himself to comfort the crying group with a promise he's not going anywhere. In an instant, something becomes incredibly clear to him; these little beings care about him. They don't want him to leave. Trying not to cry himself, he assures the group that he's long since learned his lesson. There's plenty of wonderful things in the present to stick around for.

[nikkiwriteswords]

Hi! I would love to hear your thoughts/predictions/hopes for s3, now that we got the episode titles :D

Hey Nora!! Let me go grab my tua theory hat real quick. Spoiler alert, it looks exactly like the umbrella hat on the 3 right here:

Full disclosure, I've only got like a pinky toe in the tua fandom right now, but I'm still going to see what BS I can spin from these titles.

1. MEET THE FAMILY. The description on imdb is "The siblings get to know some more of the 43 children in an alternate timeline." So, I think this is pretty self-explanatory. Netflix likes to start things off with a bang, so s3 of TUA will probably be no different: we'll probably get a vague flashforward/flash-sideways to a "what if" scenario that will make sense by the last few episodes, and the rest of the episode will be sowing seeds for the s3 plot. The big question is, what family are we meeting? I think this episode will revolve around themes of family (no-brainer) and redefining the relationships between our Umbrella siblings in light of the season 2 finale, as well as their new Sparrow 'replacements'. To that end, initial Sparrow sibling parallels will be presented and subsequently complicated in this first episode. I also predict we'll see varying reactions to this alternate Reginald, as the Umbrella siblings are thrust into an outsider perspective that follows on from season 2.

2. WORLD'S BIGGEST BALL OF TWINE. This is going to be a multi-layered metaphor. I can feel it. It will no doubt refer to the plot that's about to unfold (is it an outside threat to both parties - the Umbrellas and Sparrows - from, say, the Commission, or is it more to do with the two rival Academies?), but I wonder if it also refers to the Wizard of Oz type scenario the Umbrella siblings find themselves in: they aren’t in Kansas anymore. (But you know what is in Kansas? The world's current biggest ball of twine.) Also kind of want to see Klaus knitting again in this ep - perhaps as a way to subtly re-address his ongoing addiction issues, especially now Ben is gone.

3. POCKET FULL OF LIGHTNING. This probably has to do with powers. Sparrow powers, Umbrella powers. There'll be a lot of new flexes in this season, so who this refers to is anyone's guess.

4. KUGELBLITZ. Here's where it starts to get interesting, because this title carries forward the subject of lightning from the last one. According to a very quick internet search, kugelblitz literally means "ball lightning" in German, and refers to both a) a glorified WW2 tank designed to take out aircraft (a certified Big Boi), and b) a theoretical black hole made from light/radiation rather than matter. So this is absolutely going to be a new, unseen power - probably from the Sparrows. Hopefully from Christopher because a cube executing a move named after a sphere just makes me chuckle. Ah, fun with shapes... But in addition, this power is probably going to pack a huge, debilitating punch to whatever narrative is underway at this point in the plot. I'll bet money that whoever wields this power is the tank character in their party or they are after this at least.

5. KINDEST CUT. This throws me back to the barber shop meta, I'm not gunna lie. Someone's going to get hurt, either physically or emotionally, and it's going to be the lesser of two evils. If it's a follow through on the barber metaphor, then Reggie will be the one to orchestrate it. Or, in a surprise twist, will he be the one gTetting hurt or being silenced? (Remember that cutthroat allegory that chases the siblings through the first season, particularly Allison and Klaus. It was about becoming voiceless.) 6.MARIGOLD. Big shout out to this post for spreading the word on the marigold symbolism. I'm pretty sure this will be Reginald backstory, which ties in with the creation of the Umbrella Academy. Also, because I'm a sucker for flower symbolism and reading into things, consider that marigolds:

a) fall into two families, the calendula which means "little clock" and the tagetes, which is named after the Etruscan prophet Tages. The Etruscans believed heavily in predestination - some events are set in stone, and cannot be changed. (Consider the way the apocalypse seems to always come for one set of siblings...) b) are named as such colloquially because they were offered in place of money to the Virgin Mary. (More divine imagery, and reference to a pure mother figure...) They are Mary’s gold. So maybe it’s a reference to Reginald’s wife, which would fit with the flashback scene we see in 1x10.  c) are a flower of duality. They have strong connections with the sun and resurrection, yet the marigold is thought to be a flower of grief because it blooms in autumn. Again, think about that flashback in the first season. At the end of the world and a wife dying, there was the promise of rebirth. d) It's also a very common flower. Remember, there's actually 43 siblings out there. We've only met 14.

Also Netflix loves to do this thing around the halfway point (usually episode 5/6) in a season they're producing. They'll switch up the narrative with a twist or turn that provides a new perspective. 7.AUF WEIDERSEHEN. Once again, a German connection. And, obviously, a goodbye. Considering the last season focused on Kennedy, are we going to get some earlier Cold War time-travel shenanigans? Or maybe WW2? I think Blackman has said something about the Berlin Wall, which is interesting. A country divided... Umbrellas and Sparrows allegory? But as an aside, I'm also kinda lowkey hoping it's a nod to Auf Weidersehen, Pet. If you don't know the show, here's the wiki summary for the first season:

Auf Wiedersehen, Pet is a British comedy-drama television programme about seven British construction workers who leave the United Kingdom to search for employment overseas. They find work on a German building site in Düsseldorf but despite promises of hostel accommodation, are forced to live in a small hut that reminds them of a World War II POW camp. The rest of the series is driven by the interactions and growing friendships between the various characters.

In episode seven, three of the “Magnificent Seven” visit an intercontinental hotel. Just saying. If s3 was to go this route, my money would be on Luther, Diego and Five getting up to shenanigans in this one. I miss 125 shenanigans.😢

8.WEDDING AT THE END OF THE WORLD. Honestly, I’m holding out hope that one of our fave siblings gets married. I feel like that’s a trap though... Actually I feel like it might actually be a trap. As in, this is when the rising action really kicks it up a notch. But also remember the title of 1x01: We Only See Each Other At Weddings and Funerals. Maybe the siblings get split up, possibly in episode 3/4, and they’re trying to reunite through episodes 5-7. Also thinking about hotels and apocalypses...  There’s something very fatalistic about these titles so far. I have a feeling that the B-plot or the subtext is going to reveal a lot more about Reginald’s history and the destruction of his world.

9. SIX BELLS. This makes me think of church bells, which is some nice continuity with the wedding of the last title. But church bells are rung for all sorts of reasons - as a call to worship, or in celebration or mourning, or to tell the time. (Thinking back to those marigolds suddenly.) But why six? Now I’m thinking of bell ringing (change ringing), and the way different bells have different cord lengths to control the time of their chimes. It’s a highly mathematical process. Will this episode be Five’s time to shine? Will he coordinate his siblings through a large attack? 10. OBLIVION. Does anything even need to be said about this one? Hotel Oblivion baby ✌✌ Any further theorising would require more knowledge of the coming plot tbh.

Edit: I wrote most of this at 2am, so I’ve just tidied it up a little. Thank you for the ask, Nora! This was fun to think about. 

[capstoverogers]

A Soul for a Soul

Tryna break into the wlw Marvel tumblr fic world; consider this grief-ridden multi-chapter fic my resume ;)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/Black!Reader, Eventual Carol Danvers/Black!Reader

Genre: Grief, Angst, Romance

Summary: You thought you were used to the struggle. Between growing up as an orphan in Oakland before elbowing your way through the ranks of S.H.I.E.L.D., you were sure nothing could faze you.

But then you lose the love of your life and for the first time ever, you’re not sure how to move forward.

Notes: In this world, Peter Parker survived the Snap and S.H.I.E.L.D. still exists, just underground. Also features an OC with pyrokinetic abilities who’s the Reader’s best friend.

Chapter One - Hope

Word Count: 3,666

Warnings: Cursing, Allusions to Sex, Very Slight Ant-Man Slander, but Out of Love

In a lot of ways, the past five years had been quiet.

You’d grown up in Oakland, gone to college in Washington D.C., then lived and worked in New York ever since. You didn’t like quiet.

The biggest cities had lost their bustle, and it was one of the many reasons why you resented Thanos.

That and for taking the little bit of family you’d ever had. And the two men who were the closest things you had had to living brothers. And your absolute best friend in the world.

You coped in the way you always had - through work and through perspective. With Agents Fury and Hill gone in the snap, along with half of S.H.I.E.L.D. that had been underground after its public fall, you had moved through the ranks overnight (and you had been pretty high up there to begin with), taking over a great bulk of the remaining operations of the covert agency. Those first couple of years, you were in D.C. during the week days, watching as a fractured government slowly tried to repair itself while dispatching any leftover agents to take care of the chaos that had arisen in the aftermath. You’d go home to a pathetic one-bedroom apartment in the city most nights, it often being too late to commute to where you really wanted to be, get a few hours of sleep, then do it all over again.

It was all right. Kept you distracted. Made you feel purposeful.

It was the weekends, though, you found your truest solace. You’d put off all your responsibilities except in case of an emergency, take a quinjet up north to the Avengers compound, spend Saturday and Sunday with the woman you loved. Most of the time, you’d have the entire compound to yourselves. Maybe you didn’t like the quiet, but you loved it when it was quiet when you were with her.

After a few years, though, there was less for everyone to do as slowly, society started to move on. It was a blessing, you supposed, though sometimes it felt like a curse. You had never done well with idle hands.

It was slow enough that you could work remotely, at least, leaving your little D.C. apartment behind to take up permanent residence in upstate New York, except for emergencies. Natasha’s bedroom became y’all’s bedroom. You started to see just how broken she was, felt like a terrible partner for not realizing it sooner. She’d been able to mask it well when she’d only see you on weekends and through holograms. Now that you were together all the time, her walls couldn’t stay up for long.

Like the Avengers always had, she kept the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Far be it from you to convince her that she didn’t need to do that, but you at least wanted her to know that she could share that burden with you. To get her to realize that became your greatest mission.

And you never failed missions.

By the time you reached the five year mark, the two of you had fallen into the sort of routine you could see yourselves doing for the rest of your lives, if this really had to be the rest of your lives (you think both of you, deep down, had hope that it wasn’t, that something more could be done, which is why you two had tried your hardest to not stop working ever since half of the world disappeared before your eyes). Together you both kept watch over a broken world - Natasha by keeping in touch with the remaining Avengers and your new friends from space as you continued to run S.H.I.E.L.D. from the compound. Occasionally you’d go out for an actual mission, finding that you got cabin fever if you stayed put too long.

Natasha would never come with you, though. She was waiting for the right one, she told you. But you think she was just scared of what would happened if she took her eyes away from the world for even just one second. She’d let you carry a little bit of that weight with her, finally, but far from it all.

She was completely open with you, though, for the first time in the seven years you’d been together (dating a former assassin came with a huge set of emotional intimacy issues, but there was no one else you’d rather work through that with). And when you two realized that wow, you’d been together for seven years, you decided that you all could use a bright spot in this darker world.

So you had a bittersweet wedding. Peter Parker was your “man of honor”, Steve Rogers was hers. Tony presided at his beautiful cabin home with his daughter Morgan as the flower girl and Rocket - much to his outward chagrin though you suspected he secretly loved it - was your ring bearer with the vibranium wedding bands that Okoye had brought for you from Wakanda. You’d even gotten Thor out of his desolate mancave on New Asgard for the night, with the promise of all the beer he could drink.

It was hard not to think of all the people who should’ve been celebrating with you, but you’d at least found the burst of happiness that you could. Moments like that reminded you two that you still had to keep fighting, even if you didn’t quite know what for all the time.

About a month later, you left for a quick mission. You were gone for three days and came back to a bustle unlike any you’d seen at the Compound in years. There was a space ship parked out front, but more surprising was the sight of Tony’s Audi convertible.

Nat’s eyes looked the brightest you’d seen them in awhile, all pretenses shattered as she greeted you with an excited smile that was surprisingly adorable.

“So this is what you do when I’m gone?” You teased, wrapping your arms around her distractedly as you took in the energy around you. God, you had missed this sort of noise. “Throw parties?”

“You caught me,” she gave back, eyes twinkling before she wrapped her arms around you tightly, but in a way that didn’t feel desperate. It reminded you of how she’d hugged you throughout your wedding day. You let yourself fall completely into her embrace, burying your face into her neck and inhaling deeply. It had only been a few days, but you’d missed her so much. How you used to spend all week without her, you had no idea. “I think we found a way to reverse the snap.”

You yanked your head up so quickly that you almost gave yourself whiplash, playfully glaring when Natasha laughed. Her eyes were so warm with hope, though, that that was soon all you could focus on.

“What?!”

She nodded excitedly, squeezing your hips. Your mind immediately started reeling, unable to keep from imagining what this meant, who you’d be able to see again.

“How?!”

Natasha’s lips curled up into a little smirk, eyes still twinkling.

“Time travel.”

Wait.

“What?!”

-----

The compound was chaotic in the wonderful way that you cherished. Thor’s booming voice and Tony’s wisecracks and Steve’s voice of reason and Rhodey’s deadpan and Bruce’s reverberating Hulk-heavy footsteps and Rocket’s quips and Clint’s snark and Natasha’s sarcasm and laugh and sass and just everything about her that had been buried beneath the rubble of the last five years, coming out now more than in just moments. None of you slept as you all plotted, planned, built; a certain energizing spark taking over all of you in this renewed sense of purpose.

There was only enough of these “Pym particles” for ten people to do this time heist, though, which meant you were the odd one out.

“Maybe when you get powers, we’ll reconsider it,” Tony quipped when you complained, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.

“I could beat you up if you didn’t have that suit,” you gave back, smirking.

“She could,” Natasha echoed before he could get a word in, shooting you a grin as she came up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist.

Tony dramatically clutched at his chest.

“I’m offended you don’t think I’m more than my suit, Romanoff.” He paused. “Or is it (Y/L/N) now? Romanoff-(Y/L/N)?”

“Natasha and (Y/N) Widow, actually,” you joked, grinning as a laugh rippled through the Avengers. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t take Pepper’s last name, Tony. We all know she’s really the one running the show.”

You gave him your most dastardly grin as Rocket gave you a fist bump, Thor - perpetually buzzed - howled and Scott and Steve exchanged amused looks.

“See, this is why you’re not coming with us,” Tony said, pointing at you though he couldn’t quite hide his hint of a grin. “Today’s youth, so disrespectful!”

You let that go. You were in your 30s, but Tony always had a hard time not seeing you as that 22 year old first-year S.H.I.E.L.D. recruit he’d met over a decade ago.

So you chuckled, turning in Natasha’s arms in time to catch her fondly rolling her eyes.

“I will say, I’m gonna miss this banter on our mission.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist, as hers moved to your shoulder pulling her closer to you.

“Let me come with you and we won’t have to miss nothin’,” you said lowly, smirking at the way she eyed you.

“You know there’s no one I’d rather by my side,” she admitted softly, letting her fingers massage the back of your neck. You hummed pleasantly, letting your eyes flutter shut as your forehead fell against hers, “But I also like the idea of you here, safe.”

You sighed, not meaning for your breath to hit her lips, but enjoying the feel of her tensing against you nonetheless.

“I might not be a super solider or some guy with …ant powers…” you grinned when Natasha chuckled, “but I can hold my own, Nat.”

“I know you can,” she murmured. “But I’d rather know I’m coming back to you than be worried about you out there.”

You opened your eyes, found them staring into earnest and soft green irises. You could see how important this was for her, doing something that felt tangible after spending so much time and energy over the years to keep the world going, never losing hope even when no one else believed.

This mission would always mean more to her than it ever would for you.

So you nodded, craning your head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.”

She smiled, “I know.”

“Get a room, why don’t ya!”

“Shut up, Rocket.”

Hours before they were set to leave back in time, you got a call from Peter Parker saying he desperately needed you to pick him up as soon as possible from Central America, which was strange because the last time you’d checked, you’d sent him on an undercover mission to check out some disturbances in Europe (as the only Avenger whose true identity was still secret, he was most ideal to send on these sorts of things).

It did sound urgent, though, so you quickly headed to your room to change into something more extraction appropriate, unsurprised to hear the door open a few minutes later.

“Oh good,” Natasha’s voice purred playfully behind you as you pulled off the shirt you’d been lounging in. “I was hoping I’d catch you before you got all your mission clothes on.”

You chuckled as you turned to face her, then faltered. Though there was a coy smirk playing at her plump lips, her eyes told an entirely different story. You motioned for her to come closer, trying to keep the spirit high.

“Quickie before I leave?” You joked, sitting back on the bed as she came to stand in between your legs. She laughed, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes as they flickered over you before she gently placed her palm on your cheek.

“Will you be back before we go?” She asked softly.

You shook my head, your frowns matching.

“Even if it is just a pick-up and go, the round trip will take four hours.”

“I’ll see if we can wait on you.”

As much as you wanted that, you found yourself shaking your head again.

“I don’t want anything to throw y’all off,” you told her, covering the hand on your face with your own. “This is too important.”

She nodded; if there was anything you both understood, it was that some things were more important than the two of you. The fate of the world was definitely one of those things, and all the lives that hung in balance. It’s what made you heroes, before anything else.

It’s also what made you and Natasha fit together so well. You understood each other in ways that no one else could.

“I’ll see you when you get back, though,” you assured with a soft smile, grasping at her waist to pull her into your lap. She straddled you like it was second nature, though it didn’t necessary feel immediately sexual. You just liked that she was close. “After you’ve gotten that stone and you’re about to bring everybody back.”

She grinned, “You really think we can do it, huh?”

“You can do anything, Nat. You’re my fucking hero. There’s no one I trust more to save all of us.” You let my fingertips trace gently down her cheek as her eyes softened lovingly. “Don’t tell Rocket or Tony I said that. They’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Nope. Been recording this conversation the entire time. Gonna share it with everyone.”

You laughed as she grinned slyly.

“I hate you,” you mumbled, your thumb grazing against her bottom lip.

“I love you,” she gently pressed a kiss against the pad of your thumb. “Don’t tell anyone how soft you make me, though.”

“Oh, they already know,” you teased quietly, relishing in the way she made your heart feel. You were so close to telling Peter to find his own ride, not wanting this moment to end, but you knew you and Natasha would have to pull away eventually.

Still, you could make it stretch as long as possible.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed softly, pressing her forehead against yours. “But I like to pretend that they don’t.”

You chuckled as she grinned cheekily.

“I love you too, by the way,” you murmured, as if she didn’t already know. “So fucking much.”

Your thumb drifted from her lip, down to her chin, and forever in tune, she quickly erased the distance between you before you could pull her closer. Seven years, and you had yet to find anything as incredible as kissing her.

Except maybe when after just a few seconds, she pushed you back onto the bed, hovering over you with a twinkling smirk.

“Change your mind about that quickie?” You said playfully, biting your lip at her husky, soft laugh.

“Don’t you have to give a certain spider a ride?” She teased, as if she wasn’t the one who’d pressed her chest delicately against yours.

“There’s another spider that I’d rather give a different kind of ride right now…” Your fingers drifted down to the hem of her pants, but she was off of you before you could start to shimmy them down. You pouted ridiculously as she stood up, earning a laugh.

“We’ll have our own celebration in here when we’re both back,” she said coyly with a wink.

“Good, because we’ve only fucked once since I’ve gotten back from my mission, and it’s making me irritable.”

She chuckled as she grabbed ahold of your hands, effortlessly pulling you up off the bed and back into her arms.

“I love you,” she said again, pressing her lips against yours for a long moment. The words felt more weighted than they usually did, in the way they seemed to seep into your skin, take ahold of your chest and clench your heart. You could feel that this moment was important.

“I love you, too, Nat.”

On your way out, you were intercepted by Clint, who gave you a wry grin as he glanced down to your left hand.

“So I heard you and Nat got hitched,” he said, his eyes a soft contrast to his casual tone. “Wish I could’ve been there.”

“Me too,” you said honestly. Clint and you had never been particularly close, but he was still family, and he meant so much to Natasha. “Steve had to be Nat’s best man, and it was disaster.”

Steve had actually been great, but you knew Clint would get a kick out of the idea of Captain America stiff by the altar, uncomfortable in the face of any kind of public display of affection, as far from the truth it actually was. There was something appreciative in his eyes as he laughed.

“Well, I got dibs when you guys renew your vows.”

You nodded fervently, “Definitely. Maybe once y’all bring everyone back, we’ll do a bigger wedding. I mean, Nat would hate that - “

You paused, then burst out laughing because Clint had said the same thing at the exact same time as you had, and it made you kind of regretful that you hadn’t thought to bond with him more before Thanos had snapped his fingers. But you supposed there was time for that.

Your and Clint’s laughter faded, and both of you hovered there for a moment. Before it could get too awkward, you gave him a soft smile.

“Take care of my girl, Barton.” He and Nat were paired up for the time heist, after all.

He nodded, corner of his lips curling up into a smile that you knew was sincere for him.

“She’s probably gonna be the one having to take care of me,” he joked, but then his eyes softened. “You know I’ll do everything I can to have her back.”

“I know.”

Still, you felt a little uneasy as you headed towards the hangar where the quinjets were kept. You didn’t like being away from home base while they were out on missions. It had always been like that, even before you were with Nat. The fact that she was your wife now intensified it. You really wanted to be there when she got back.

But alas, duty called.

-----

You were thrust into battle without a moment’s notice, when Doctor Strange’s portal appeared in the back of the quinjet just seconds after you had yanked Peter out of the Mexican rainforest as he ran from a bunch of cartel guys, wielding assault rifles and screaming “gringo!” at him.

He was in the middle of an adorable, earnest, apologetic ramble (one that would always be so Peter, even if he was less boy and more man these days) after you’d playfully accused him of being racist because he made you rescue his “white ass.” He’d be trying to tell you that he’d deviated from the mission you’d given him because he’d heard rumors of something akin to the power of an Infinity Stone buried deep in Central America. He knew you’d never authorize him to go after a rumor, so he took matters into his own hands (also very Peter, and it would be hypocritical for you to fault him for that), hoping to find a power source that could maybe reverse the damage that Thanos had done.

Not that it was necessary now. The Avengers had done it. Nat had done. Everyone was back, but apparently somehow that meant a resurgence of Thanos had come with them.

There were no time for questions, though, even though you had so many as you found myself in the rubbled remains of your home with an alien army before you and a homegrown one behind you. There was no time for proper reunions, even though you managed the quickest one when you came across your best friend Zoey on the battlefield - body engulfed in the trademark flames that defined her alter ego "The Flame" - and you two clicked right into place as you set her up perfectly to sizzle one of Thanos’s goons to ash, like no time had ever passed.

You guessed for her, though, no time really had passed.

There was a quick grin and nod before chaos descended again, and you were separated into different parts of the battle. There was a glimpse of T’Challa, carrying an Iron Man glove full of jewels - the Infinity Stones, you realized - across the leveled field - and Sam soaring above you, and Bucky firing shots into the enemy relentlessly, but there was no time to focus on any of this.

There was no time for you to find Natasha in the cacophony, as you forced yourself to focus fully on the battle in front of you. When you all had finished off Thanos once and for all, then you could hold her in your arms until the end of time if you wanted. But first you all had to make sure there was still a world for everyone to still live in.

There wasn’t even time to properly celebrate, as Thanos and his entire army dissipated into dust in the perfect full circle, when Tony slumped over, eyes glazed, his light gone. There was Peter’s full weight against you suddenly, his wet eyes drenching your neck, then Steve’s strong arms around both of you. like an anchor.  You couldn’t help but think that Steve’s gesture was more than just a comfort gesture because everyone had just lost the man who had brought you all together, who meant so much to each of you in different ways.

You didn’t want to confront what else it could mean, though.

[bleulone]

i love your analysis so much! i have a question as well, like, how do you envision polin's sex scenes ? thanks for your answer (:

    Hey! Thank you very much :)) I have no idea if they are that even good but I’m happy you like them. It’s just my brain tending to produce some iNsIGhiTfUL analyses though they usually end up drowned under a huge wave of stupidity and horrid spelling/grammatical mistakes XD. So, about Penelope and Colin’ sex scenes, I guess we’re getting spicy in this house 🌶. I mean, I don’t blame you. Who’s not hot for Polin ?! The steamy Polin hours have already begun and they’re legit challenging my patience. (Be still my Polin heart, be still).

   Okay, without further ado, let’s talk about sex baby, shall we ? It’s a pretty long answer/meta so bear with me.

    I don’t know if you’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton, but a quick reminder (for those who haven’t... yet), there are a bunch of iconic steamy scenes that I’m dying to watch on screen. First we have the famous “thank you” scene where Penelope, now a 28 year-old spinster, asks Colin to kiss her because she doesn’t want to die without having been kissed... then ends up thanking him— which happens to be humiliating for our 33 year-old boy because he thinks that she thinks he did it out of pity while he absolutely did not. The man definitely felt butterflies in his stomach... and in other places as well lol. We also have the ICONIC carriage scene where Colin gives Pen’s generous bosoms™ the attention they deserve. This is followed by his proposal. Later on, after the announcement of their engagement, there’s a pretty hot make-out scene on Lady Violet’s sofa. Finally, we have their first time in Colin’s bedroom, after sneaking out of their own engagement party... which leads Colin to push the wedding date forward. At this point, I just love their horniness, especially Colin’s who’s just so freaking amazed by Penelope for more than 300 pages straight (duh! who isn’t ???).

    When you say envision, I suppose you mainly refer to the way those scenes will be filmed right ? I’m afraid I don’t have an advanced knowledge in film-making but let me start by telling you what elements need to be depicted. I would love Shonda and Chris to capture the real essence of our boos’ feelings : the yearning, the love, the respect and the guilt (specifically on Colin’s side) in their eyes. The more we move forward throughout the seasons, the more we see different layers of the perceptions of they have of each other, going from a childish idealization/immature ignorance to a sudden realization. A mature one. Penelope goes beyond the facade of the charming devil-may-care guy to meet the seriousness and temper of her significant other. Meanwhile Colin discovers how confident, powerful and attractive this woman is and always has been. It echoes what I’ve written about the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story in this meta. By the time season 4 hits, man... their heart eyes and eye-fucking will jump OUT XD, all fibers of their beings, burning with need. The fact that this evolution took literally years is very emotionally painful, which is why I find it important to keep the slowness aspect of their relationship before and during their love making. I’m really looking forward a slow build-up toward their intimacy. It would differ from Daphne and Simon who merely shared one hell of a kiss in Lady Trowbridge’s garden then shared their sexy times after they married or Anthony and Siena’s rough sex... In fact, there’s a certain (sweet) ardent tenderness in Polin I like due to the fact that they’re slowly (re)discovering each other, as adults. Since they were both introduced in season 1, the audience will have all the time in the world to notice numerous evidences of the many natures of love they have for one another : from an affectionate and friendly love to a more carnal and enduring one.

    Okay so, in terms of filming, with Netflix’s Bridgerton being a show which promotes the female gaze, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise watching those sex scenes being shot from Penelope’s perspective, like it was the case with Daphne in the first installment of the series. Most of the time, sex scenes in Historical Romance are not gratuitous. Their presence serve an important purpose in a hero/heroine’s journey. In Penelope’s case, they’re here to help her learn to embrace and love herself. In other words, sexuality is synonym of freedom. I don’t know if they’ll show a lot of skin, but I won’t be complaining considering the fact that we’ll have the chance to get a chief kiss treat on screen : a plus size woman in a major successful Netflix period drama getting a love story as romantic and steamy as other more “fit” female characters. No, your weight doesn’t prevent you from being desirable at all. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t watched a plus-size female character portrayed as an attractive protagonist in a period drama (please if you have, let me know, I can be wrong). Having a beautiful half bare curvy body like Nicola’s being equally filmed like numerous slim actresses will be so inspiring and powerful to watch, especially for (young) women who struggle, like Penelope, to love their body shape which, to them, doesn’t “fit” the “beauty standards”. By showing her female gaze and portraying her as seductive, Pen’s “supposed” imperfections transform themselves into mighty assets, loved and worshipped by our dashing Mister Bridgerton. That’s body positivity at its finest darling ;).

    It will be deliciously erotic watching the undressing process being exquisitely slow, garment by garment, while their gaze are all heated and hungry. Their sex/make-out scenes should be tender and passionate, sweet and raw. The lightning, colored by a dark blood orange yellow or a blue depending the locations^^. Moreover, the depiction of the exploration of Penelope’s desire can translate itself thanks to multiple close ups. For instance, I can imagine a few ones on Pen’s fingers gently roaming over the smooth skin of Colin’s firm chest and back/touching his hair right after he removed his shirt. And a disheveled Colin letting his hands and lips making a journey of their own, mapping, conquering the alluring unknown territory that is her gorgeous voluptuous body... kissing her on the places he knows oh too well will give her pleasure (is this me wanting him to go down on her?— um yeah I sure hope it IS! If he doesn’t, trust me imma riot... AGAIN). Even a close up on her face while Colin is performing his addictively pleasing torment will be a marvelous proof of the female gaze. By the way, why not even adding a post-coital scene after their first time ? I can picture Penelope waking up first and contemplate her handsome soon-to-be husband. She’d bring her hand to his face and let it travel all around his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his neck and let it rest on his heart— making sure that what she’s just experience was real... obviously, Colin will wake up in the process and he’ll take this as his cue to go for another round of sexy times under the sheets.

   Showing Pen reaction is essential according to me because she was stuck with the idea that she would never experience the luxury of being loved, giving pleasure nor receiving it... she ended up being happily wrong. Throughout her multiple intimate encounters with Colin, I want her to progressively realizes that she can be an active partner. In the carriage, she knew she had an effect on him, but it’s not until their first time that she actually realizes it. Hence the reason why I WANT the mirror’s introduction in one of their sex scenes. Here’s as a little reminder an excerpt from chapter 18 :

“I want to see you sitting up," he groaned, "so I can see them full and lovely and large [about Pen’s breasts]. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you." His lips found her ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And I want to do it in front of a mirror."

“Now?” she squeaked.

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. "Later," he said, and then repeated it in a rather resolute tone. "Later.”

   It would be such a shame if the show doesn’t use the incredible potential of this object (/kink). I mean, the symbolism is pretty clear. Penelope has always fled her “ugly” reflection but it seems like Colin wants to show the real her, the beauty that holds every single inch her alabaster skin and the effects they have on him. Thus, I would love to watch a scene where Colin just praises the alluring goddess and siren that is Penelope Featherington. Just imagine! Just IMAGINE the power of this scene : a shirtless Colin sitting behind her on a bed, meeting her gaze in the mirror, his lips touching her right ear, biting and licking the lobe sometimes, whispering all kinda of dirty yet poetic words to her while letting his hands caress her thighs, her hips, her arms, her lovely bosoms™... oof. At the same time, a wonderful and harmonic instrumental music will play in the background and match the melodic partition of shudders, breathes and moans let out by our lovers. I can imagine Luke inspiring himself from his performance in the 2019 short film, Youth In Bed. The way he conveyed the awe and the yearning on his face, in his eyes with his mouth slightly open when he knelt before his partner Shun Yin was just captivating and— and so Colin! I cannot help but bring myself to picture Ethan, the character he played in YIB, in a Polin steamy scene. I cannot unsee this anymore jsksk. I mean, all this gifset radiates this book4chapter18!Colin, you cannot tell me otherwise!

    Also, I would love Shonda and Chris to keep Pen and Colin’s cute/emotional pillow talk. One thing I really love in JQ’s books is the concern she gives to her male protagonists about potentially hurting their partner during the act of penetration. Colin is a rake, and what his experience with women taught him is that he needs to be very gentle with the love of his life. It was so adorable seeing him not wanting to harm her and asking her to tell him if he does anything she doesn’t like 🥺. Plus, before actually doing it, Colin and Penelope shared a few kisses and just laid down side by side, confessing their love. Though our boy kept feeling guilty about not returning her love after all these years. He desires nothing but to make up for the lost time and show his love and desire during this special intimate moment. I hope they’ll keep all of chapter 18’s dialogue. It’s just so telling of our boos’ feelings, you see.

    All in all, I can’t wait to watch those Polin steamy scenes. As much as I may sound crazy, I want them after two other seasons of pure pining and yearning in order to have a very good payoff. I’m not an expert on depicting intimacy on screen, but I loved so far what Lizzy Talbot, the intimacy coordinator who worked on the show, have done in season 1. Sex scenes in Bridgerton seem very real and dive you in the intimacy of the moment, leaving you all flustered and hot. So probs to her! I have faith in her work and have no doubts about what her and the directors will serve us in future seasons. Though, in the end, I think it’s mostly up to the actors, Nicola and Luke, to see if they’re comfortable filming sex scenes.

    If you guys have any suggestions or wishes for those steamy polin scenes, please do share them :) by commenting on this post or by sending me asks! I’d love reading your thoughts/take on this very important matter ;))