#feels so damn good when I write these two

[luludeluluramblings]

dream team back. we’re currently yapping central again (per usual)

both of us are straight up in a tim drake brainrot spiral too!!! he’s a delightful little weirdo. a strange little gentleman if you will.

tim is such a funny little guy!!! he also makes a solid yandere. you can’t outsmart him. you can’t escape someone who can find everything about you. On the upside, I feel like he’d be happy to spoil his darling. also he’d be like, really considerate in weird ways??? I mean like you don’t get privacy (or you get the illusion of it maybe but not actual privacy.)

like yeah you’re always being watched in some way, but the man has committed every single one of your favorites and least favorites to memories. He knows what clothing you like, what specific features you look for in everything, and if he doesn’t, by god, will he learn. He knows your favorite song, and he knows the nickname you went by in elementary school.

Do you think he pretends to be normal and basically sets things up to send reader to be like a little love story?? You meet by chance, and he fell first. He fell a LONG time ago, so now it’s his mission to make you fall too. And Tim Drake ALWAYS finishes a mission. (Even as a baby daddy candidate). He makes himself the best option, even if he’s not the father.

Yandere!TimDrake x PastFriend!Reader x Aiden Cobblepot

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sooooo, I'm finally and slowly going through my ask box and you two may have sparked an idea just for Tim. I might have to do a Part Two for this. (I'm falling into the WIP trap. Help!) But, I love the thought of the Bat Family have competition when it comes to their darling. Gives them a challenge. Plus, I really wanted to use Aiden Cobblepot for this. I've been wanting to sneak him into something.

A/N: We have neglected!Sib!Reader, but what about a Neglected!Friend!Reader? Fun idea. Tim already knowing everything about you only to find you’ve changed and wants to study you all over again. Only this time he’s keeping you! (I’m very fond of Tim. I think he’s difficult to write for me, but I enjoy the little stalker so much.)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Romantic themes, Tim can be read as kinda platonic, GN!Reader

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You and Tim were once good friends. Well, he was your best friend. To him you were just a good one. High school buddies that would hang out all the time. At school only. And sometimes the rare gala you saw him at. It was rare you ever actually went to The Manor. You never asked to go. But, you had hoped to be invite.

Just like you had hoped that he might reciprocate that pesky crush you had on him back then. You had felt like it was so painfully obvious. Though it wasn't as painful when you finally figured out he was Red Robin and you waited and waited for him to tell you his secret identity. And, then you would tell him you already figured it out and you would look so cool.

Only, he never did. You both grew distant. You had put so much carful effort into keeping that distance from growing. Inviting him to hang out more. Asking him out for casual coffee. He always said the same thing.

"Oh, damn. I could really go for that right now. But, I'm just sorta busy. Next time though. For sure."

Over and over. He sounded like a broken character. Repeating the same phrase. One that you would hang around after the game was over to reminisce about all the fun adventures you both once had. However this was life not a game. You couldn't just restart and rerun the same adventures.

It made you ache when you finally moved on. When you finally pulled away. Because, Tim didn't even notice you were gone. His life to change. He didn't have to restart anything. You had lost your best friend and he didn't even care. It stung. It stung more than you realizing he'd never reciprocate your feelings.

But, like all things, time moves on and so do you. Leaving the past behind and starting a new game. One that you start to flourish in. Making new friends. Meeting new people. Building closer bonds and more healthy friendships. It had been interesting to realize how dependent you had been on Tim once upon a time. And, embarrassing. You can't help looking back on it with a wince. You almost want to reach out and apologize. But, that would be weird and you both live completely separate lives now. You hardly ever see him at galas now. Mostly because you don't go anymore.

Things, do change. You never expected your new partner would draw Tim's attention back to you. And, in such a terrible way.

You had a rough idea of what you were getting into when Aiden Cobblepot had asked you out to dinner. You figured he was only interested in you for your money or your half-decent looks or your family name and position. You had heard all the rumors about him, but still you went. Mostly, because you knew how dangerous he and his family were. And, you were… presently surprised.

He was a bit of an entitled asshole. But, he wasn't scared of getting dirty. You watched him lead you through the puddles of rain water and Gotham grim in the posh restaurant. He held more concern for you're clothing getting dirty than his, which were more expensive than yours. He paid for the date without flinching at the price. Encouraged you to try his own food from his plate. Talked about fond memories of the things he and his sister got up to as children while asking you about your own childhood.

Admittedly, you were easily seduced because after that the two of you became an item. You didn't even realize how official you were until he introduced you to his sister, Addison, and she was actually nice to you. Extremely nice. She did, however, threaten to kill you if you betrayed Aiden in any way, which was honestly fair enough.

Aiden and you were a bit on the opposite side of things, taste wise and morally wise. But, you both made it work. He continued his life of crime, but made no mention of it around you to keep you legally clean. You shared most of your life with him, letting him have a slight glimmer into normalcy. He liked to take you on fancy dates and show you a good time. You were happy to pull him inside just to spend personal time with each other. Of course, you both made compromises. Aiden had a taste for luxury, and you didn't mind indulging in it. Especially after you beat his ass multiple times in Mario cart. It was only fair you let him take you to a gala some point.

Little did you know that that was how Tim would come clawing and digging his way back into your life.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

For Tim seeing you again was like finding an old precious treasure. His life had gotten so difficult and complicate lately that just a reminded of all those old times was nice.

However, seeing you on the arms of the Penguin's son was a brutal wake up call. What were you doing? Had you hit your head? Was he blackmailing you? Drugging you? Everyone in Gotham could recognize the name Cobblepot and how dangerous they are. And, he remembers how smart you were so you couldn't have willing chose to be there. It's not logical.

For your safety, he reintroduces himself to you. Long time, no see. We should hang out some time and catch up. Only he means it. He can't let this happen. He can't let you fall in with a man like that. You're his friend. He'll win you over for your own sake. Ruin Cobblepot while he's at it because how dare he use you.

Even if you changed. Even if you don't smell the same. If your hair is different. If you dress different. Even if your very laugh had changed pitch, he knows you. And, if anything, he can just re-learn you all over again. It won't take long. He's done it all before. This time he'll savor though. This time he won't let you go as he pulls you back in. You were a good friend, this time he'll make you more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m starting to type up Part Three of Pregant!Reader, but I ended up coming up with another start to it with more drama that would be strictly for the BatBoys. The messed up drama in it sounds fun and challenging, but I won’t do it until I finish what I started with the blurbs I have planned included.

A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part Nine is going to take a while. I have big plans for it, but Pregnant!Reader is kinda outshining it.

A/N: I will post about the LoungeSinger!Reader and another idea I came up with that y’all might like that I’ll add to the concept list.

A/N: There’s a Tony Part Two coming, but it’s only halfway typed and still not that yandere-y. Need to fix that.

A/N: My asks box is full, so I’m gonna try to empty it, but I host Thanksgiving in my family and I’m also a Christmas nut, so I’m gonna be busy. (I have four Christmas trees in my house currently… But I’m not as bad as my in-laws! They had their trees up BEFORE Halloween.)

[nemesyaaa]

xkzfiedkdskdkdd arghh ??? angelita ??? the tension inside my body, you need to stop doing this. the fever got me so hot but your writings doesnt help at all ??? OMGGG one of the hottest pairing (I agree with Rafe ngl). she's such a baddie, I need to make love to her and to get all her babies. i'm so amazed by the way you can write such a crazy relationship, but such a fucking good dynamic. bitchy!kook!reader is amazing 🫶🏿 and i love this work with my whole heart ?! i thought bitchy!pogue!reader was something but her kook version IS crazier damn it

sliding the bill over to him, you felt the burn of their surrounding gazes on your ass. “i’ll have whatever that can get me.” you slowly stood back up, your dress riding up your thighs as rafe so shamelessly ogled your cleavage. “not even a ‘hi, how are you?’ i thought we were closer than that, babe.” rafe chuckled, shooing his friends off with the wave of his hand. —.lmfaooooo it's starting very well...yes ?? 😭😭😭 They're killing me

“this is what you want, huh?” he waved a small baggie in your face, “take a walk with me and it’s all yours.. no money necessary.” he slipped the bill in your bra, his fingers skimming the flesh there as he threw an arm around your shoulders. oh, chanel owed you big time for this. — whatever he wants, not gonna say no thé prettiest puppy of the island

“we should be together baby, we’d be the hottest couple in this bitch.” you hummed in disagreement, flashing him a glare. “i’m already the hottest one here, i don’t need you to be the ‘hottest’ anything.” rafe smiled down at you. your bitchy attitude only made him grow hard for you in his pants. — she's the man, she holds the power and i love her

“you’re a bitch, you know that?” he started walking you two upstairs, his arm dropping from your shoulders before grabbing a handful of your ass through your dress. “aww, you think so?” — how to marry her ??????

“you should be careful, ray. ‘get too horny and can’t even feel when a cokewhore slips her fingers in your pocket. you made it too easy for me, baby!” rafe was in disbelief when he watched you blow a kiss at him, your hips swaying as you walked down the stairs. you were so clever he couldn’t even be mad. — ma'am, i'm seated for you at this point

⋆˚✿˖° when bitchy!kook!reader’s best friend begs her to go buy something off of rafe for her, she’s forced to face their complicated past once again.. but this time on her knees..

warnings: s1!rafe, dealer!rafe, rafe is kinda icky in this ngl, groping, teasing, name-calling, reader makes rafe go absolutely dumb, flirty banter (?), rough kissing, lots of dirty talk, slight jealousy, slight praise, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, hair pulling, orgasm denial

a/n: s1!rafe is such a loser, i had to.

wc: 1.8k

“just go get it!” chanel whined, tugging on your arm as you rolled your eyes at her. she’s been begging you to score from rafe for about fifteen minutes now, a hundred dollar bill tucked between her fingers as she shook you by your shoulders. “no, chanel! i’m not really feeling a bump right now, alright?” you looked away from her in hopes she’d give it up already. you knew she was still mortified from the last time she tried to buy off of rafe, her form of payment being a complete miss when rafe gave her a disgusted look as she not-so-subtly got on her knees for him.

after she had to mask her embarrassment and play it off as if she just ‘dropped’ something and had to pick it up, she vowed to never face rafe cameron again. “i’m literally offering free blow, come on!” she exclaimed. you looked around the room, noticing a few stares in your direction, a sigh leaving your lips as you ripped the money from her hands. “fine! oh my god, will you stop that already!?” you whispered, reapplying your lipgloss before making your way over to rafe. he was surrounded by all of his friends, their boisterous laughter coming to a stop as you approached their table.

sliding the bill over to him, you felt the burn of their surrounding gazes on your ass. “i’ll have whatever that can get me.” you slowly stood back up, your dress riding up your thighs as rafe so shamelessly ogled your cleavage. “not even a ‘hi, how are you?’ i thought we were closer than that, babe.” rafe chuckled, shooing his friends off with the wave of his hand. without another word, they left, leaving you and rafe all alone as he patted the spot next to him. “i’m not sitting down. i just need my shit and i’ll be gone.” rafe’s smile dropped at your words, a scoff leaving his lips as he rounded the table.

“this is what you want, huh?” he waved a small baggie in your face, “take a walk with me and it’s all yours.. no money necessary.” he slipped the bill in your bra, his fingers skimming the flesh there as he threw an arm around your shoulders. oh, chanel owed you big time for this. “we should be together baby, we’d be the hottest couple in this bitch.” you hummed in disagreement, flashing him a glare. “i’m already the hottest one here, i don’t need you to be the ‘hottest’ anything.” rafe smiled down at you. your bitchy attitude only made him grow hard for you in his pants.

“you’re a bitch, you know that?” he started walking you two upstairs, his arm dropping from your shoulders before grabbing a handful of your ass through your dress. “aww, you think so?” you cooed, feigning innocence as you swatted his hand away. rafe settled for keeping a palm on the small of your back, your eybrows knitting in confusion when you two walked into a bathroom. “what are we doing in here?” you watched as rafe clicked the lock shut, his biceps bulging through his t-shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest. you couldn’t help but stare at his muscles.

rafe is a pretty attractive guy, there was no doubt about that. sharp facial features, blue eyes that made it easy to get lost in, and his muscles.. god, those chiseled muscles were a weakness of yours. “you can stop the act, you know?” he stepped closer, his face mere centimeters from yours. you put some space between you two, taking the hundred dollar bill out of your bra and offering it to him once again. “i’m just here to get something for my friend. you can take it or leave it, i don’t care which one you choose.” you leaned against the sink, the dim lighting making your lipgloss sparkle.

rafe nodded, tonguing his cheek as he caged you between his arms. he just had to smell so good. “your friend?” he repeated, “you’re not talking about chanel, right? the one who wanted to give me head instead of actually paying me?” you laughed, attempting to push him away but he didn’t budge. “oh, that just strokes your ego, doesn’t it?” you glanced at him through your lashes, feeling your resolve crumble the longer he stayed this close to you. “nah, not like you do.” he leaned down, pressing a wet kiss to the underside of your jaw. rafe was starting to get you where he wanted you.

“come on, you tellin’ me that you don’t think about that night we snuck away from that charity gala and had marathon sex on the druthers?” and there it was.. the one and only thing rafe cameron had dirt on you for. you sucked in a breath, a shiver running down your spine when he nipped the sensitive skin of your neck. “that was months ago, rafe.” you sighed, your hands trailing up his arms. “i still think about it,” he started, “still’ got your panties from that night in my room..” you moaned at the revelation, your fingers threading through his hair as he lifted you onto the sink to step between your thighs.

“why did you bring me here?” you pulled away, eyes glazed over as he rested a hand on your thigh. “because i still wanna supply you, just at the cost of something else..” you rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what that ‘something’ was. “goodbye, rafe.” you were about to move around him when he spoke. “that’s fine, really. i bet that girlfriend of yours downstairs wouldn’t mind getting on her knees for me one more time.. y’know, since you can’t do it.” you froze, your jaw clenching as you turned around and glared at him. “‘i ‘can’t’ do it’. is that what you said?” you arched a brow.

“yeah. you can’t do it right, and that’s okay. desperate times call for desperate measures, and no one sucks cock better than a cokewhore looking for her next bump. ‘matter of fact.. send her up to me when you get back down there.” he winked. you were utterly speechless. who the fuck did he think he was talking to? you were hands down the best suck and fuck of his life, and you both knew it. “that’s funny..” you pouted, “cause if i remember correctly, you came three times in the span of ten minutes,” your laugh echoed off of the walls of the bathroom, “it felt so good, you were crying. did you forget that?” you whispered.

rafe cursed under his breath, lifting his head to meet your heated gaze. he could never forget that. he literally had to pull you off of him, pathetic whimpers leaving his lips as he laid there dazed and overstimulated. “but you’re right, i’m sure chanel would love to come up here.” you kissed his cheek, not even making it to the door before he pulled you back by your hair, his lips clashing with your own. the kiss was anything but soft. teeth, tongue, you name it, you two kissed like you’ve been waiting to do it for months. “you fuckin’ bitch, you were just waiting to throw that in my face, huh?”

you giggled, pushing him back against the counter before kneeling down and unbuckling his belt. rafe couldn’t believe that this was happening again. slipping his shirt off so it wasn’t in the way, he shuddered when he felt your fingers loop through the waistband of his briefs, his pants falling down in one swoop. “ah, fuck!” he hissed, the tip of his cock already leaking precum for you as you wrapped a hand around his base. “wanna keep saying that i don’t know what i’m doing?” you looked up at him with those eyes of yours, making him melt into a puddle of nothing as you stroked him languidly.

“no— no! you make me feel so good, baby..” rafe’s lips parted when you gave him a lick, swirling your tongue around the glistening head before taking him in your mouth, your throat closing around him tightly. rafe stood there frozen, his heart beating in his ears when you swallowed around his length. taking that as permission to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail, rafe pulled you off of his cock, groaning at the sight of a string of spit connecting you two before slamming back into your throat, both of you moaning at the sensation. he looked so pretty when he was fighting the urge not to cum too soon.

eyebrows pinched together in pure bliss, rafe took his bottom lip between his teeth, his head rolling back as the sounds of his cock hitting the back of your throat reverberated off the walls of the bathroom. your mascara was starting to smudge, but with the black pencil in your waterline it was hard to tell you were messing up your makeup in the first place. “oh my god, baby, this is— shit, i can’t. i can’t fuckin’—” rafe was babbling nonsense, his knees buckling when he felt you take his balls in your other hand. “wait, wait, i’m so close. y/n—”

you ignored his pleas for you to slow down, only pulling away from him when he was right on the edge of painting your tongue with his cum. the look on his face was priceless when you started fixing your hair in the mirror, tearing off a piece of tissue to dab at the stray tears that managed to roll down your cheeks. “w-what are you doing? what’s wrong?” rafe stammered, his cock standing up against his stomach as you didn’t spare him another glance.

“i’m going home!” you chirped, the man next to you shaking his head at your words. “no, no, no, what are you talking about?” he grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to where he stood, “come on, you know i can make you scream. let me fuck you..” he whispered the last part in your ear, making a wicked grin form on your lips. “fuck me? gross, no way.” pecking the tip of his nose, you pushed him away before opening the door. “wait, what about your blow?” he shouted after you as if to say ‘gotcha!’. turning around at the top of the stairs, you took the little baggie out of your bra and waved it at him.

“you should be careful, ray. ‘get too horny and can’t even feel when a cokewhore slips her fingers in your pocket. you made it too easy for me, baby!” rafe was in disbelief when he watched you blow a kiss at him, your hips swaying as you walked down the stairs. you were so clever he couldn’t even be mad. pathetically shouting a ‘so you’ll call me?!’ you ignored him, scoffing. “as if, loser.”

[littledeathdove]

Donna Beneviento headcanons

To take a break from writing my analysis on her and Angie 😋

(Bro she is so damn fine/pretty/beautiful basically all of the above, LOOK AT HER HANDS OMG, the elegance when she is making Angie wake back up?? I need someone to match my feelings when it comes to this woman omg)

Okay now that I’m done with my little…rant there, let’s get onto these headcanons 😈🙏🏾

Donna is mute, well selectively mute since she much rather prefers to speak through Angie. When she does speak through her own mouth it’s usually just to speak to Mother Miranda since she does see the woman as her mother in some stance.

Now Donna does sometimes speak through her own mouth to other people, but when this happens it’s usually before she can even stop herself. Usually it’s in situations where Angie went dormant and Donna can’t wake her up in time to get out the words she needs to say.

She only speaks a couple of words before she transfers into speaking through Angie.

Donna does love the enjoy of the kill but she hates thinking about her first actual murder which was the gardener. His death makes Donna withdraw into herself even more since he was one out of the two people kind to her. And she did grieve his death at the time since she did have good intentions when she gave him hallucinations.

Donna is actually very mean inside and that’s why Angie taunts people, mocks them, and even makes insults. It all because Angie is acting out the personality trait that Donna doesn’t show through herself. Which is because she tries to make herself seem as much of a shadow as she can by not speaking.

Donna never puts a bad/ugly feature on any of her dolls and if she does mess up and accidentally causes the doll to have such features, she never gives them life through sharing her cadou. The reasoning for this is because Donna she doesn’t want to make her dolls, things she sees as a part of herself, suffer by making them live with such a face like she had to.

Donna ideal lover would likely be someone playful since she definitely loves games as much as her doll, Angie does. A boring person would just make her bored with them as a person but if you are interesting enough, you’re lack of playfulness will make up for it.

Even though Donna is murderous she isn’t sadistic. Donna doesn’t find pleasure in making people feel pain but she does find it funny most of the time. Speaking of finding pain funny, Donna prefers to watch her victims suffer from the hallucinations she gives than any pain she gives them. Pain always equals to her playmates soon dying way more sooner then they would if she just inflicted nightmarish hallucinations on them.

If Donna did have a childhood friend that protected her from bullies and all of that but somehow drifted away from Donna growing up (likely when Donna isolated herself), Donna would become possessive if she got that friend back. By that I mean like you wouldn’t be able to have anyone else as the main person you give your attention to or else she would withdraw again.

I also believe that you would get a horrific hallucination about said person the next day if you were to come back to her property.

I have more headcanons but I just want to get out of my drafts before they sit in here for another 4 days 😞

[raveninfog]

Secrecy.

Authors note- hi everyone! I’m pretty new to all this and this is my first shot at writing. I’ve always been a spectator, just waiting on amazing authors to update their fics to reading one shots in the middle of the night cause I can’t sleep. I’ve always had ideas in my head about how I’d write and I decided to finally give it a try. Hopefully you’d all enjoy it. Also with that being said, please don’t be afraid to give me some advice on how I can get better as time goes on. 🫶🏼

Enjoy my loves!

Warnings- flirting, light swearing, nicknames, based in the late 40s. Kissing. Sneaking around, Best friend’s older brother. Sergeant James Barnes. Reader is 20 while Bucky is 24.

Genre- Oneshot! Fluff! Best Friends Brother.

You were sitting there at the dining table with your best friend Rebecca. Working on a school project you had to finish with her for your history class. Books laid out in front of you, papers, pencils. The sound of the front door opening was heard since the dining room was right by the front door of the small home. It was him, Rebecca’s older brother bucky. He was home from the base quite early today.

You’ve had a crush on him for a while, how couldn’t you? He was a sergeant, in the military, about to go fight in the war in a couple months. That crush reciprocated from Bucky, it had seemed like he felt the same way about you too. Which later came out to be very true. So you two had a little secret, a little secret relationship..no one knew about.

Not even Rebecca.

As you saw Rebecca get up and go to the kitchen to grab some snacks, Bucky came up behind you. He knew this was the perfect time too. The kitchen wall blocked off the area of the living room you were in. Your head turning to the side to where he was as you heard him, before he leaned in and kissed your lips passionately. His lips met in a fiery clash, soft yet insistent, moving with a rhythm that spoke of longing and urgency with yours. The warmth of his touch was intoxicating, every brush sending shivers down your spine. It was the way your lips fit perfectly within his, moving in sync, that made everything else fade into the background—a perfect balance of softness and intensity, leaving you two breathless and wanting more.

His lips were pliant and eager, parting slightly to deepen the connection, to draw the you closer. There was a slight pressure, firm and deliberate, as if to imprint the moment into a memory. The sensation was both tender and consuming, each movement speaking of unspoken words, of desire that couldn't be contained.

You were caught off guard of course, especially when you had turned your head and there was your boyfriend. You felt his lips on yours, before closing your eyes and kissing him back. The way he had bent down and had his hand on the back of your head, tilted upwards to get a good angle of your perfect lips on his . The warmth of your own breath and his mingled, and the world around you two faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your hearts and lips together.

“Is this how you say hello?...” you whispered to him in between kisses, when you pulled away just slightly for him to capture your lips again in a split second for a moment.

You could feel him pull away, to see if Rebecca was still in the kitchen. Hell, he could hear Rebecca going through the cabinets to find snacks or something.

To his luck, she was still in the kitchen. You had felt his lips right back on yours once again without even saying a single thing to you until he had finally pulled away to speak. He rested his forehead against yours, his thumb moving onto your cheek bone and caressing it gently before his thumb slid down to your bottom lip doing the same.

His lips curled into a soft smirk, his perfect little doll he absolutely adored with all his god damn being. It was almost surprisingly how Rebecca didn’t notice her big brother look at her own best friend with love in his eyes for you.

“What else do you want? A little love tap?” He teased you as he ran his thumb against your chin now.

You finally felt him pull his hands away from you, standing up straight as he fixed his uniform and took a shuffle back just in time as Rebecca had made her way back with some tea she had made. God, Rebecca was so oblivious to the point where it felt too easy. Too easy to the point it felt god damn suspicious.

“Let’s get this project over with so we can go to bed, unless you want Bucky to drive you home Y/N.” Becca said, setting the mug of tea in front you before taking a seat in the chair. Her face having a clear look of annoyance at the papers in front of her.

Bucky turned his head, looking at his little sister because he took a glance at you and cleared his throat a little.

“Why not tell dad to drop her off?” He spoke up. It felt like torture to say that, but he knew he had to play the game of keeping the relationship a secret.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and looked at her older brother before snickering at him.

“Well hello to you too, Why wouldn’t you wanna drop your girlfriend off?”

“WHAT?!” You and Bucky say in sync, shock spreading on his face while your cheeks turned completely red.

“What do you mean wha- oh come on, did you guys REALLY think I was that stupid..you guys aren’t exactly the best at hiding things. Especially since you two are always making out somewhere in the damn house.”

Buckys cheeks turned red as he rubbed the back of his neck, he honestly didn’t know what the hell to say to his little sisters revelation about her knowing everything. Clearly you were embarrassed, not to mention shocked about your best friend knowing. God you knew you and Bucky weren’t ever gonna hear the end of this. Not in a bad way really, more in an annoying way where she’d bring it up at every occasion she sees.

“Uh well…I-If that’s the case then yeah..I’ll drop Y/N off…unless she’s sleeping over.” Bucky said, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Ugh pervert..” Becca muttered in disgusted.

[laswells-ashtray]

New here but already in love with the way you write Price and Nikolai, so I have an idea for you.

I saw the hybrid COD idea and was thinking about how Price would never show his wings to anyone except those who keeps close(his boys, Laswell, Mac, etc), but he only shows them one because the showing of both wings is something reserved for significant others, which is something John thought he’d never have.

Cue Nikolai coming in and turning his whole life around, and now they’re sitting in one of John’s favorite quiet places and having a drink when the dragon hybrid gets up suddenly and turns to face Nikolai, a look of content and bliss in his eyes as he stretches his wings to their full height and show them to the pilot in all their glory.

At first, Nikolai is stunned because- it had taken damn near years to get this powerful captain to trust him, to be around him, and to learn to love him, and now all of a sudden on a warm evening he’s showing off his wings to him of all people?

Needless to say he’s stunned and immediately wraps John in his arms, large form surrounding the dragon’s easily despite his own large size.

Aaaand.. yeah! That’s all I got.

Awwww, that's so fucking cute and very John, to do it without any warning.

John, watching Nikolai discuss the mechanics of a heli: I need this man in my life forever and I need him in my bed without the next two hours.

I think touching a dragon's wings is a big nuh-uh unless you're someone close to them, or a medic because God forbid John go a single mission without getting fucking injured.

Kate has felt them because despite having a master poker face, John could tell she was curious and he trusts her completely. He just took her hand and rested it on her wing, because she's Kate she asked him if he was sure and he nodded. She ever so gently trailed her fingers across his wing and hummed approvingly. "They're nice... Sturdy." "That stops being a good thing when you clobber them off of something."

The boys have all felt one of his wings. It's grounding for Simon when he needs it, Gaz treats it as something precious; being allowed to feel a dragon's wing is a unique experience and Soap is more often that not the one to tell John that he needs to visit the medic because he's a little scratched up.

MacMillan has felt his wing because John has always been a reckless arse and back in the day, Mac was the only one he'd let patch it up because the medics at the time were a bit too heavy-handed and it was either that or John tried to do it himself. He can't twist at the right angles to patch up his own wings. He has a habit of always injuring the right one, too.

Nikolai? Nikolai spends his mornings lazily drawing the shape of a heli against John's wing when they're in bed together in the morning and the other wing is wrapped around him. He does it so often that John knows just from the touch that it's a heli. "Again?" "You complained when it was a penis." "...You're right, carry on."

Nikolai drapes a blanket over John's wings because Soap joked that if they did it then they could make Price look like Batman and Nik's curiosity got the better of him.

He wraps tinsel around the tips of one of his wings at Christmas just to see if John will let him away with it, John does. And John will, every time.

[fenharel-is-so-swell]

I’m very sleepy so there are probably mistakes and redundancies galore below buuuuut read on for a rant about how weirdly Trick Weekes treats Qunari characters/culture.

I said this in a comment elsewhere buuuut I just realized that Trick Weekes does something VERY odd with the Qunari they write. As a black woman it does not sit right with me.

The Qunari, racially, are the group most evocative of people of color in western society Irl. They are treated as savages, visually very different (scary by Thedas’ standards), often hypersexualized, and generally perceived as hyper aggressive.

With that in mind I’d like to dig into Taash and Iron Bull a bit.

Iron Bull and Taash have narratively similar character arcs — raised under the teachings of the Qun, enter an identity crisis, do they conform or deconstruct?

Iron Bull is a Ben Hasserath that is surprisingly cooperative and ‘worldly’, compared to all other Qunari we’ve interacted with in games past. He’s got a lovely little band of misfits, is well spoken, and generally open minded/kind. As we get to know him we come to discover that all his charming qualities are exactly what make him ill suited for Qunari society—everything GOOD about him is other. UNLESS you enter a romance with him, in which case the ‘fun’ hold overs from a sex-as-a-biological-imperative society are BDSM. So, compared to the other available romances he’s quite lewd. His character development stalls a bit if you romance him UNTIL you get to the Bulls Chargers portion of his mission where it is either—sacrifice everyone and remain with the culture and world you truly do care about, or do the ‘right thing’ and cast off everything you know to save your found family. The narrative treats the latter as the ‘right choice’ in Trespasser when a non-Tal Vashoth Bull turns on the inquisitor regardless of relationship. Affirming to the player that all those who follow the Qun are mindless dogmatic murderers without real empathy or attachments. (Obviously there is more along the way with guilt and loss of identity, but I’m painting the broad strokes)

In a vacuum, this feels…fine. It could just be a story about a guy in a culture. A tale of deconstruction. It feels uncomfortable considering the cultural allegories that are easy to make with the Qun—it feels non western religiously. An amalgamation of maligned cultures BUT it’s easy to feel like maybe we’re reading too deeply.

Then enters Taash and the Qunari we see in Veilguard.

I have not seen what happens with Taash and their choice to “be more Rivaini or more Qunari” (I’m a biracial black woman and that makes my skin fucking crawl) but the implication is damning when looking at it next to Iron Bull’s story. (I’m also still playing VG so take this with a grain of salt. Taash has also been the most overtly sexual character the earliest in the game, I haven’t gotten more than a hint from any other character (save for Davrin, but it was a subtle flirt) but Taash? They’ve sniffed my neck, growled, and asked if I wanted to fuck them. So, once again, hypersexualizing the Qunari companion.

The Qunari in Veilguard are beyond flattened and instead split into two groups—the civilized, understanding, assimilated Qunari & the near mindless, violent, occupying, murdering defected Antaam.

The Qunari NPCs I’ve over heard in game have all been quick to yell “I’m just Antivan!” Or “I’m not Antaam” or the below grossssssssss dialogue (paraphrased from a convo I head at the LOF base)

“So, you’re Qunari”

“No, I don’t follow the Qun.”

“But you have the horns”

“I was born in X city. Qunari means ‘people under the Qun’ and I wasn’t raised with that”

“Oh then, if you’re not Qunari what do I call you?”

“How about X name”

…IM SORRY WHAT?!?!?! This gives entirely “I don’t see color” and is INSANE to put in a game in 2024. We are familiar with Tal Vashoth, we’ve been able to play as Tal Vashoth Qunari (racially) characters in two games. Hell, we have a similar allegory for it in real life with Jewish folks!! There is a distinct difference between being ethnically Jewish (I.e ashkenazi, etc pls correct my terminology) and religiously Jewish but erasing either is fucking gross????

Just like yeah, I’m [my name] but I’m also visibly fucking black and pretending I’m not does nothing but provide more room for the marginalization I experience to go completely unchecked because “I’m just [name]”

The handling is especially upsetting because I was REALLY hoping we’d get a slice of normal life in this game in a perfectly average Qunari settlement/encampment or something so we could see some of this culture outside of their violent defectors and “one of the good ones” Tal Vashoth.

[waynes-multiverse]

I was so tired yesterday I knew if I read it I wouldn’t do it justice, so had to wait till I was better rested.

I feel like this was a theme for all of us before the summer. I felt that comment in my tired bones 😂 Hope all's good with you, though! Missed ya a lot, friend 🤍

“Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.” broke me

I'm glad it broke you! I was rather proud of that line 😂 Plus, I think she made a great point for Beau lol

I love Beau asking about the dating, and doing it about face as soon as he realizes other guys have made inquiries.

Haha yes! Beau was hearing that and going, "Dammit! And here I thought I was being an honorable gentleman by giving her time to grieve. Meanwhile, these cockroaches are already hitting on her like damn vultures! Her husband's body ain't even cold yet..." 😂

And the vibrator line – Quinn got apology cookies for the laugh that I cackled out and woke him!

Oh, she definitely was pushing boundaries there 🤣 And yay, cookies for Quinn!!! 🍪

I know it was meant to be sweet, but very, very bittersweet – beautiful!

Ooof, right? Part of what I loved writing about this series were these really tragic moments between them. There's always this "wrong place, wrong time" dangling in the air and tons of "what ifs". Well, hopefully the stars align for them... 😉

And BTW, you have the paragraph

Ah, thanks!!! That one got away from me. Finally corrected it after months... 😂🙈

I swear to the Gods, when I read “He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.” the next thing I heard in my head was “ because he doesn’t have much time left to do it,” and that stopped me cold. Foreshadowing, or too much Dateline – I’m not sure. But it gave me chills.)

Ooop, we'll see where this story leads... Might not be death that will haunt her and cause a rift 👀 (Or maybe it will 🤷‍♀️)

Quoting all these lines back to me? You're making my writer heart soar, woman! 😍❤️❤️❤️ (On a side note, I really loved the metaphor with the cassette tape. He really is her B-side 🥰)

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” (that double entendre got Quinn another cookie!)

I imagine Jenny internally also snorted pretty hard at that one 😂

And man, you ended on kind of an ominous note… I’ve got a real bad feeling. Whatever happens, at least they have that soft moment between them.

Yup, let's hope it won't be the last! 🤞

Polaris – Chapter 7

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

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, mentions of cartels, grief, smut

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: The chapter where we find out why Ted is on Beau's punch list aka The One With Ted... 😂

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Storm Coming

May 2021

“I sold the house,” you said, your voice ripping through the quiet of the car during another starry stake-out night.

“So you’re homeless now?” Beau joked and peeled his eyes away from the front window view and glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other one in his lap.

You chuckled. “Yup, but I got a hot plate now in my motel room and one of those Italian moka pots. So, you know, some would say I’m living the dream.”

Beau snorted in amusement before he pensively rubbed his mouth with two fingers. “You didn’t have to sell the house, you know?”

You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda did, though… I didn’t like staying in there anymore. It’s just… too many memories, I guess? ‘Sides, I’m always down here anyways. Actually considering moving here.”

Beau frowned at you, his nose scrunching. “What, to Mexico? Are you nuts? Over my dead body are you doin’ that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a say in it,” you retorted rather playfully and put a shocked palm on your chest in mock.

“Damn right, I do,” Beau scoffed his reply with a teasing grin. “Who do you think is lookin’ out for ya, huh?”

“Wait, you think you are? That’s what you believe?” You snorted a laugh, entering banter territory with him.

It was usually how you passed your time during most of these stake-outs – laughing, teasing, and the occasional talking about your problems. You’d never known Beau like this before. He was your husband’s best friend, but he had been more of an acquaintance to you. Now, after months of spending close to every day together, it felt like he was your best friend. Since Randy’s death, he’d been there for you, even if it was mostly out of guilt.

“Yeah, what d’you think?” Beau countered challengingly.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not looking after me. I’m looking after you,” you stated confidently. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed to actually agree with you. “Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.”

“Are you calling me a girl?”

You coolly shrugged your shoulders. “Either I’m calling you a girl, or I’m calling you gay. I’ll let you pick.”

Laughingly, Beau scoffed and muttered, “You wish I was gay.”

However, you still heard his mumbled reply and responded, “Actually, I wish you were a girl and that I was gay.”

Beau stared at you and leaned back against the door for a better view of you, his brow raised and the corners of his lips drawn slightly upwards in amusement. “What are we even talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

The two of you then burst into loud laughter that filled the entire SUV. For a moment, all your sorrows and hardships seemed to be forgotten, carried away to the desert with the nightly breeze. Then, the familiar and comfortable quiet took over the car again.

“I’m moving out of the house, too,” Beau said, his eyes focusing on the barren landscape and desolate road ahead. “I’m giving it to Carla. I mean, she didn’t ask me to. God knows she can take care of herself… But I want Emily to keep living in the home she grew up in, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s really nice,” you said quietly. Your soft smile then morphed to a grin. “So you’re homeless, too, huh?”

Beau laughed, throwing his head back into the seat. “Yeah, guess I am. Maybe we should live together?” he suggested half-jokingly.

“Like roommates? Ugh, God no!” You scoffed in abhorrence. “We’re way too old for that. You’re over forty, I’m barely in my thirties–”

“You do know I know exactly how old you really are, right?” Beau teased.

You decided to ignore that jab and continued, unbothered. “It would be seriously so sad. The Widow And The Divorcee – sounds like the worst sitcom on the planet. ‘Sides, it’d be super awkward if one of us starts dating again.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Beau relented with a soft chuckle and then glanced at you sideways. His heart gained speed in his chest. “You ever think about it? Dating? Gettin’ out there again? Been nine months.”

You twitched your shoulders, choosing not to look at him. “I don’t know. Is nine months long enough after your husband died?”

Thoughtfully, Beau licked his lips and let out a small sigh. “I don’t think there’s a timeline, or a right and wrong. I just think it’s one of those things that when you’re ready, you’re ready.”
 “Well, consider me not ready then, I guess,” you replied honestly.

“Alright,” Beau accepted, bobbing his head. “But I still think you should try again at some point, you know? You shouldn’t be alone for the rest of your life. First of all, it’d be a total waste, ‘cause, I mean, look at you. And secondly, you’re barely in your thirties, after all,” he repeated your earlier joke with a soft grin.

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks in the moonlight. As you looked at him, you could see his smirk, making you laugh. “Noted,” you replied and were thankful for his pep talk. “I mean, there’ve been offers.”

Beau quirked one eyebrow, a hard lump forming in his throat as his chest tightened. “Offers? Like plural? Who?”

“Well, just some of the guys from our team. Cody, Jordan, Ted…” you named a few. “Also a few locals. Remember those guys we played pool with a few weeks ago? Two of ‘em asked for my number.”

“Huh. That is plural…” Beau pursed his lips and couldn’t keep his brow from wrinkling, his grip on the steering wheel stiffening. “Well, you know, when you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Shouldn’t force anything. No rush, darlin’.”

Smooth, Beau thought wryly with an internal sigh.

“Right, I know,” you agreed. “I do miss sex, though. Getting kinda bored of my vibrator.”

Beau choked on his spit. “Jesus…”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk about it? I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to care about my well-being and happiness,” you argued, frowning.

“I do care. Just… Can we please not talk about that?” he begged and exhaled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Fine. I miss having women around…” You shrugged and muttered, “Didn’t peg you for a prude.”

“Okay, let’s just get one thing straight – I’m not a prude,” he clarified in defense, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“Alright, also noted,” you quipped, smirking to yourself. Sometimes you enjoyed making him a little uncomfortable. His blushed cheeks could be quite cute. “What about you? Have you still not talked to Carla? I’m sure you can win her back if you tried. You’re a lot better now.”

“Well, thank you for the, uh, vote of confidence, but it’s really over, I guess. We just talked about all the divorce proceedings last time. I actually think she started datin’ someone recently,” Beau told you.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who?”

“I guess some rich tech guy. I don’t know…”

“And you’re good with that?” you questioned in disbelief.

Beau scoffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Ha, no… But what am I gonna do? Kinda shot myself in the leg with that one. I don’t blame her for moving on. It’s been over for months now.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. I was kinda rooting for you two,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but we weren’t you and Randy,” Beau said. It made your brow knit.

“What d’you mean?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Beau replied as if it were obvious, but you still shook your head. He sighed. “You and Randy would’ve never gotten divorced.”

“You don’t know that.” Honestly, you doubted it yourself, but you were too curious to find out what he meant by his statement.

“I do know that,” Beau insisted with certainty. “You guys had that once-in-a-lifetime kinda love. The kind that made other people jealous, you know? Your love made every other relationship pale in comparison. I always figured once the honeymoon phase was over, you’d settle and be less vomit-inducing, but that never happened. Me and Carla were never like that. Not even in the beginning,” he explained, a small, soft smile shaping his mouth. “You guys were special. True love. The stuff folk singers write cheesy songs about.”

“I guess we were,” you mused quietly, the memory of everything Randy was to you causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Beau apologized as soon as he noticed the sadness on your face. He reached his hand over to your side and squeezed your thigh gently, just above the knee.

“No, it’s alright,” you brushed him off, swallowing your heartache down. “But hey, if Carla wasn’t your once-in-a-lifetime, maybe she’s still out there. You just haven’t found her yet. I mean, that’s kinda a nice outlook, right?”

Licking his lips, he bobbed his head, his gaze focused on his hand on the steering wheel. “I doubt it.”

“Why? Never say never,” you said encouragingly.

“Well, maybe I already met her, and it’s too late now,” he replied. It sounded more like an actual fact than a hypothetical theory. You found yourself wondering.

“What, did you have like an old college flame? The one that got away?” you teased lightheartedly, but he only grew more serious.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied vaguely, rubbing his mouth with his fingers.

“Look her up on Facebook. Maybe she’s divorced, too. You could reconnect or something,” you suggested. He nodded but didn’t seem too convinced. You then shot him a hesitant glance from your periphery. “So, now that Carla’s moving on, are you gonna start dating now, too? Jump back into the game?”

“I guess so… Why?” A part of him was curious to hear your response, while another part reminded him that his desired answer was only wishful thinking – and completely insane on top of that.

“That fiery brunette lady at the bar last night seemed really interested in you. Maybe you should hook up with her if she’s there again tomorrow night?” you proposed in earnest.

Wide-eyed, Beau blinked at you in incredulity – like you had lost your goddamn mind. “I’m sorry, what?! Hook up? Who are you right now? Are you tryin’ to set me up?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged simply, not seeing what the big problem was. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to convince you to get a tramp stamp above your ass with a dirty needle. I’m just trying to be a good wingman… woman. Randy would’ve tried to set you up, right?”

Beau sighed frustratedly. “Yeah, he would’ve,” he admitted in a grumble and then barked, slightly more furious, “But you ain’t him. And I don’t want you to be, so stop it, alright?”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” you mumbled defensively and raised your hands in surrender, unsuccessfully hiding your upset over his reaction. He felt guilty when he saw the small pout on your face.

Beau rubbed his forehead before dragging his palm over the rest of his face. “I know. I’m sorry, too,” he said and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I just-… I guess I’m just waiting, okay?”

“Waiting for what?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. For you to be ready, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t very well do that now, could he?

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N…” he breathed exhaustively. That was all he managed to say. With his palm on his mouth, he rested his elbow against the car door, gazing out the window.

“Why are you so upset?” you asked, your brow woven with confusion.

“Switch subjects,” he requested.

It was a phrase the two of you used whenever you didn’t want to talk about something anymore. When someone pushed too much, or the topic got too emotional and you needed a break. The only rule was to always respect the request, so you had no choice but to let it go after that.

“The Texans game sucked last night, huh?”

That elicited a snort from him, and he looked at you with a warm smile. “Yeah, goddamn awful.”

“How many times are you gonna watch those?”

Beau’s question broke your concentration. Your gaze snapped from your laptop screen to his concerned face. You’d been rewatching the victims’ videos for four days straight now, trying to find more clues. Maybe even something that directly led to Diane.

“I keep thinking maybe I’ve missed something,” you mumbled and stared back into the computer, your teeth gnawing on the pen between your lips. “It’s 48 hours each. We have twenty-four victims. I keep watching them sped-up to get through them all, but maybe I should slow ‘em down. I mean, I’ve watched them full-length, normal speed a couple of times before, but maybe I should watch ‘em even slower and really focus, you know? There’s gotta be something there…”

Bobbing his head worriedly, Beau pursed his lips and took a scan of your desk. He counted eight empty cups of coffee and five cans of energy drinks. There were bags under your red eyes and your hands were jittering. He knew you hadn’t slept a lot. He tried to hold you in his arms, but as soon as he dozed off, you snuck out and went back to work.

Beau shut the laptop. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“I need that woman in prison, Beau.”

“You startin’ to sound like Jenny…” Beau quipped under his breath.

“We’re running out of time. There’s only one day left before the next victim drops,” you stated and tried your best to keep your voice steady as it broke off towards the end.

“I know.” Beau clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. “And we’ll get her. I promise you. But you’re no good to any of us if you’re exhausted and losing it right now.” You nodded and rose from your chair. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “How about some dinner, huh?”

You grinned warmly. “What, like a second date?”

“Exactly like a second date,” Beau said and mirrored your grin. He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your brow quirking at the number. Eagerly, you picked up and wound yourself out of Beau’s embrace. “Special Agent Y/L/N… Uh-huh… Great, thank you.”

Beau pursed his lips. “We’re not going out, are we?”

“‘fraid not, Sheriff.” You shook your head and chuckled at his groan. “That was IT. They’re finally done and sending over the IP addresses.”

“Alright, guess I’m gettin’ take out,” Beau announced with a small sigh, knowing the two of you were in for a long night – and not the one he had planned.

You smiled and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

August 2020

Beau’s heart thudded frantically in his chest as his knuckles tapped your front door in the early evening. The sky was a color spectacle full of azures, indigos, and apricots as the summer sun slowly set. His boots only stood on that same spot not even twenty-four hours ago. It still felt like a surreal nightmare he couldn’t escape, his hope to wake up soon a ceaseless prayer.

He’d stayed with you all night, held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Beau awoke on your couch with your head resting on his thigh and a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn’t help but think you were beautiful, even in a state of utter turmoil, shoving said thought swiftly down into the depths of his darkening soul.

But he’d spent all day thinking of you, plagued by guilt and torn by misplaced feelings. He’d sat through hours of interviews, going over and over the events of last night till his mind spun like a hamster wheel. He was forced to fill out forms, sign documents, and recount each unforgettable step. He’d listened to lectures, sermons, and admonitions. His captain gave him a tongue-lashing that sounded like mere white noise before he was sent home with a suspension – investigation pending.

Only he didn’t go home; he came here.

At home, his wife and daughter were waiting – for a husband, a father, an explanation. None of which he could provide. Beau wanted to wallow in his grief, his guilt, his loss in peace. He lacked the strength to be strong, play pretend, and act above it all. He wanted to be punished, sent to perdition, and held accountable for his lapse of judgment. A suspension wasn’t good enough. It barely patched the abysmal gaps in his heart.

The only suitable punishment was you. Witnessing your suffering was his personally crafted hell. You were the broken remnants of his destruction, the shattered pieces of his idiocy, the explosive fallout of his arrogance.

And you hadn’t answered a single call or text of his. His torturous worry was part of his penalty.

Consecutive rings of the doorbell and incessant knocks remained unanswered. For a moment, Beau rested his forehead on the door. He felt helpless and clueless all the same. You had friends and family to take care of you, probably better suited and closer to you than him, but somehow he felt burdened with the responsibility.

He took the spare key out of the left-side planter and barged inside. The ground floor was deserted. Last night’s uneaten dinner still sat untouched on the table. It felt like a whiplash against his bare back.

Bolting upstairs, he found the door to the main bedroom ajar. He pried it open slowly, the sight of you delivering his second lashing. This time, he felt the sting burning through to his heart.

He found you curled up in bed, on your husband’s side, in your husband’s t-shirt, with your wedding photo album clutched tightly in your arms. His breath halted for a moment; his heart did, too.

Did he do this? Was this all his fault?

“Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet and careful as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to your side and knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, hey… You need to get up. Eat somethin’.”

Beau was sure you hadn’t moved all day. He didn’t ask you if you were alright or how you were doing. The question seemed insulting. The answer was obvious. Your phone was lighting up on the nightstand with a million unanswered calls and messages, his own among them. Your beautiful eyes were vacant, red, and empty. You didn’t cry, however, not anymore. You were dehydrated and all out of tears at this point. You never looked at him, not even a glance.

“I want him back,” you whispered, your voice coarse from screaming, crying, cursing.

Beau nodded, licking his lips. Caringly, he caressed your head, brushing a few strands of messy hair out of your face. “I know. I hope you know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”

For the first time your eyes found his. Your gaze was scathing and piercing. “Tell me what happened.”

Beau let out a harrowing sigh. He had rehashed the story all day long. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, but maybe this version was the most important one. Who deserved the truth more than you?

“Y/N, I don’t think this is such a good idea, darlin’,” Beau tried to reason, mostly for himself. He wanted to hold on a little longer, the idea of you hating him tearing him apart. He wanted to spare himself the additional guilt, the anger, the hurt.

“Tell me or leave.”

Beau closed his eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay, alright.” He took a deep breath and settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden bedside table. “We were closing in on that biker gang. Few murders, arms trafficking, drug deals… You know the drill. I’m sure Ra-… he filled you in.”

Not that long ago, Randy had asked you for advise on the case. You gave him your contacts in the DEA and a number to a CI.

“Your DEA guy warned us. Said the gang was working closely with the cartel down in Juárez. But I had my own intel that only a few members were meeting at the Hatcher warehouse in MacGregor. It was supposed to be a small deal. But I figured it could lead to bigger things if we shook ‘em down, you know? But fuckin’ Harper told us no like usual. Refused to give us back-up. Said to pass the case on to the DEA. But Randy and I worked our asses off the last few months to get even this far. We were so close. I didn’t wanna let go… So, I suggested we go in anyways. It was supposed to be only three guys from the gang. I knew if we were smart about it, we could easily take ‘em down, you know?”

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on the bed. Shaking your head, you chuckled humorlessly and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle from the nightstand. “‘Course you did. It’s not the first time you broke a rule or shit on authority.”

“Yeah, and I was right every single time,” Beau bit. His anger wasn’t geared at you but at himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He flew too close to the sun and got burned. But he still felt the need to defend himself, even if it was unjustified.

His gaze drifted to the dresser and the patch of wall above it, decorated with photographic evidence of yours and his partner’s life together. The wedding, dates, vacations, holidays – it was all there. Beau had watched it all, start to finish. He wished he could rewind the tape and cut off the ending, all so you could have the love of your life back. He didn’t know yet your cassette had a B-side. One that featured him.

“You got fucking lucky, is all,” you scoffed.

“Randy backed me up on it!”

“Of course he did! You’re his fucking partner! He would’ve followed you anywhere if you asked him to,” you snapped, shaking your head. You gulped down some whiskey then and locked your jaw before you met his eyes again with a glare. “And? What happened then, Beau? Was it only three guys?”

“No.” The word was almost inaudible. He shook his head with a harsh swallow. “They were meetin’ with a few cartel members there. My intel never said anything about that. When we were inside and saw what was really going on, it was already too late to get out. They made us, bullets started flyin’… They got a hold of Randy and… shot him.” A tear escaped down his cheek, his throat closing as he tried to choke out the last bit of the story. “I had to leave him there. I barely got out myself. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this is on me.”

Your lips twitched with a bitter smile. You didn’t look at him, just rubbed your tired eyes. “Damn right it is. Get out.”

“Y/N, please–”

The storm in your eyes made him stop as you met his gaze, his useless apologies becoming stuck in his throat. “I said, get out. I ain’t asking a third time. You’re the reason my husband is dead. You’re the reason I don’t even have a body to bury. So, get the fuck out.” Like a snakebite, your words were targeted, sharp, and venomous.

You finally got out of bed and prodded towards the en-suite bathroom. The truth had been what you needed to switch the fighter inside of you back on. You knew what you wanted to do then and were determined to get it.

“Y/N–”

“Do you know what cartels do to bodies, Beau? To rivals? To law enforcement? ‘Cause I just came back from a job where we found forty-eight decapitated bodies, left to rot inside the walls of a house. Still haven’t found the heads yet. Probably never will,” you told him and stared him dead into his dark green eyes. “Ever seen that before, desperado?”

Beau bit his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now, leave. Please. Get the fuck outta my house. I don’t wanna see you anymore,” you spat and slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

Beau then grabbed the whiskey bottle you’d left and walked out of your home. It was the first of many nights he started to drink himself to sleep, but at least it kept the nightmares temporarily at bay.

“Theodore.” Beau forced a bright smile onto his freckle-dusted face, although the stiff features could barely fool anyone. At least, they wouldn’t have fooled you.

“Beau, good to see you again.” Ted smiled and did a more convincing job of it as he waltzed into Lewis and Clark County’s Sheriff’s Department. It almost seemed like he meant it. “I was surprised when Y/N told me you got a gig as a sheriff here.”

Translation: I was surprised because you were such a fuck-up back in Texas.

Beau feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

“Hopefully, you’re givin’ the DAs here less headaches,” Ted jabbed under the disguise of friendly banter. He then turned to Jenny with that same shit-eating grin. “Your sheriff is a little troublemaker.”

Sweet Lord, Beau wanted to whack the bastard.

The blonde deputy coolly brushed the accusation off. She shrugged and playfully nudged Beau’s arm, sending the Texan attorney a smile. “I prefer him that way.”

“Hey, there she is!” Beau smiled with frazzled relief when you finally hurried into the station. A little while longer, and he definitely would’ve thrown a punch.

“Hey, Ted. Thanks for coming. How was your flight?” You greeted him with a warm smile and a quick hug.

“Good, good. Never been to Montana before,” Ted said and then let his eyes wander up and down your body. “Look at you. You look great!”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You subtly cleared your throat. You could physically feel Beau stiffen next to you. In your periphery, you could spy a tightly clenched jaw and a few strained muscles in his neck.

“Mind if Y/N and I borrow your office, Sheriff Arlen?” Ted asked and emphasized his title. “Considering the nature of this case, I’d like to keep it as private as possible. Don’t want anything to reach Ms. Newton’s ears.”

Your hunch had been right. Several IP addresses pointed to Diane, some to public Wi-Fi’s. You and the team still needed to connect her to the other states and find out where she’d been staying there, but you could definitely trace some posts in recent weeks to her home in Montana. It was enough for an arrest warrant, but you still needed more evidence.

Additionally, it had all come together a little too easily. It seemed like a giant trap you were walking into. Diane wanted to be caught. But why?

“Why don’t I just join you? I’m sure Y/N here doesn’t mind,” Beau suggested with a tight smile and then snaked his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Internally, you sighed a little at his obvious territorial pissing, but you were willing to throw him a bone. You stretched up and claimed his plump lips in a fervent kiss that Beau only all too happily reciprocated.

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” you replied with a dirty smirk at the double entendre.

As Beau looked down at you, he mouthed ‘God, I love you.’ You grinned in response.

“Happy to give it to you,” he said with another sweet peck of your lips. A triumphant and slightly cocky grin graced his lips as he looked back at Ted.

“Oh, so you two are back together?” Ted realized, his brow rising to his hairline. He’d never seen you two together but certainly had heard the whispers down in Mexico from your old task force. He’d been the DA for those cases as well. You’d never explicitly told him about you and Beau, though, even when he had tried to pry a little on those dates you went on.

“Well, I’m a hard one to quit,” Beau quipped almost proudly, like a peacock showing off his fan of feathers.

“As are cigarettes and many other vices,” Ted shot back with the same stupidly proud grin.

Translation: You’re an ass. And a failure. She deserves so much better. I’m ‘better.’ But maybe that didn't need a translation.

Beau should’ve known it was hard to out-argue a lawyer and ground his jaw. After all, he’d been married to one for many years.

You, on the other hand, shared a wide-eyed and baffled look with Jenny that bordered on amusement. You had almost gasped in shock. You hadn’t expected such a fiery reply, sure the men would stick to their Southern manners. But, oh well, everyone’s packing in fucking Texas…

“Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” you ordered more than you earnestly proposed and shooed the two men down the hallway towards Beau’s office.

“Sure it’s such a good idea to lock those two in a room alone?” Jenny teased, her eyes lingering a little too long on Ted’s perfectly formed ass as he sauntered down the hall.

You couldn’t blame her. You had checked out Beau’s in the same breath.

“It’s only for a short time. They’re not gonna kill each other,” you laughed it off. Jenny arched a doubtful eyebrow at you. “That quickly,” you added a correction. “So, what did I miss here?” you asked and nodded towards the two men, closing the door to Beau’s office behind them. All you heard last was them talking about the recent Texans game.

Ugh, of course, they’d end up by football…

“Dick measuring contest,” Jenny supplied wryly.

“Ah, figured…”

“Well, better them than to lock Agent Y/L/N and the sheriff into the same room,” Poppernak joked with a soft chuckle as he appeared next to you and Jenny, chiming into the conversation.

You gaped at him in mock-shock. “Mo! I can’t believe you just said that,” you chided playfully.

His cheeks turned crimson red. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Y/L/N,” he apologized in a fluster.

“Mo, I told you to call me by my first name,” you reminded him with a smile. “Or I’m gonna have to start giving you silly names like Beau does.”

“Oh, I love Sheriff Arlen’s nicknames,” he quickly defended with a nervous laugh.

“Do you?” Jenny tilted her head with a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They’re clever.”

August 2020

“Old Fashioned,” you ordered with a look at the bartender, feeling Beau’s confused eyes and crinkled brow wander up to you. “Couldn’t have picked a nicer bar, huh? This place is a dump. You know that, right?”

Beau clicked his tongue and took a sip from his Ranch Water. “What are you doing here? Thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You let out a small sigh but didn’t meet his gaze. “Carla called me. Your family is worried about you.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Carla said you haven’t been home in three days. Figured you’d gone on a bender. This is the fifth cop bar I checked out. Finally got lucky,” you said and thanked the bartender as he placed his drink in front of you. You settled down on a barstool next to Beau.

“Quite the effort. Sure I’m worth it?”

Your tongue swept over your lips. “Beau, look at me.” His forest-green eyes found yours upon your soft plea. “I’m sorry I put all that shit on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, okay? His death isn’t on you. I know you loved him like a brother.”

“I did.” Beau took another sip of his drink. “But it is my fault. I was reckless and arrogant. We both know it.”

“It was a set-up, alright? I talked to my DEA contact. Cody said your intel was wrong. They knew you and Randy were closing in on them. They wanted to get rid of you,” you explained.

Beau smacked his lips. “I still shoulda known better. I should’ve seen it was a trap.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. You couldn’t say you would’ve done the same thing, but you knew Beau would’ve never purposely put Randy in danger if he had even the faintest idea. “But it could’ve happened to anybody. This was bigger than you knew.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you,” he stated quietly. You couldn’t argue with that. You were more by-the-book than he was. You would’ve never gone against a superior’s order. You would’ve respected it.

“Look, just go home. Talk to your wife. Get some help,” you said. “You missed your suspension hearing, but I spoke on your behalf. Told them it wasn’t your fault. The DEA backed me. Harper’s gonna reinstate you. Just come back as soon as you’re ready.”

Beau nodded slowly. Even if he didn’t say it, you could tell he was thankful for your efforts. “I can’t go home.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? I’m sure Carla will understand. You need to talk to someone about this. Go to therapy – and not the alcoholic kind. Losing a partner is not something you get over quickly. You need people in your corner, including your wife.”

“You mean the wife that lets criminals out on the street?” Beau’s gaze was focused on the glass in his hands. The wrinkles on your brow deepened. “The guy that shot him… Carla’s his defense attorney. Was, at least. He was supposed to do time, but two months ago, she got him paroled.” With a dark chuckle, he emptied his glass.

“Beau…” You knew he had always struggled with Carla’s job, making you sometimes wonder about their dinner conversations at home. “It ain’t her fault more than it is yours. She’s just doing her job. You know that. You’ve been together for so long, you’d think you’re used to it by now.”

Beau scoffed a chuckle and gestured to the bartender for a refill. “I was a young cop back then. Wasn’t on the job as long. I didn’t know it would bother me so much. Still lived in that hopeful bubble, I guess.”

You smiled knowingly. “You mean the ‘I didn’t think I’d see as much shit and injustice as I do now’ bubble?”

He snickered softly. “Yep, that one. Just didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know?”

“I get it. I mean, me and Carla butt heads all the time over this stuff. But we do it in a competitive fun way and then get drunk,” you said with a light chuckle. “Guess it’s different when you’re married, though, huh?”

“Yeah, it is…” he sighed.

“Still, go home. Talk to her,” you encouraged but could see your words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. “By the way, the funeral’s on Saturday.”

He turned his gaze away from his glass and found your eyes. “You need any help with that?”

“Maybe you can give a eulogy. You knew him best. I think he would’ve really liked that,” you said with a warm smile. No matter your own feelings, you knew deep down Randy would’ve wanted you to forgive his partner.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anything you need, okay?” Beau clasped your hand that laid on the bar counter and squeezed reassuringly before dropping it again.

You smiled appreciatively and teased, “Maybe show up sober. Or at least close-to.”

Beau chuckled a little. “I promise.”

You stood up from your seat then and put some cash for your drink on the counter. “Alright, I’m heading home. You need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna finish this drink, then I’ll head out, too,” he said.

“You sure? Don’t make me come back here,” you threatened playfully.

Beau laughed softly. “I won’t. Thanks for everything, Y/N. I mean it.”

You sent him a smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze on your way out. “You’re welcome. Get home safe, okay?”

However, Beau couldn’t keep any of his promises. He made it home after three more drinks and woke up on the front lawn of his house. Carla wasn’t happy when she found him in the morning as she brought Emily to school. But Beau couldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, the tragic events flashed before him like a horror movie, witnessing Randy’s death in a never-ending loop. He kept seeing his partner get dragged away, heard the shot over and over again like a rain of bullets without a ceasefire.

The guilt was eating him alive. The guilt of getting his partner into this mess in the first place. Of leaving him behind. Of surviving and coming out alive when he didn’t deserve to.

So, Beau kept drinking to forget, even though he knew it was a futile endeavor. The memory would never fade, but at least it was blurred.

Your heavy breaths echoed through the small trailer. His mouth moved down the column of your throat, leaving a wet path of ravenous love bites in its wake.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned wantonly, his grip on your flesh punishing as he kept you pressed flush against him while he devoured you on the little dining table. Your ass sat on the wooden surface, your crossed ankles locked tightly behind his muscular back.

“God, you made me so happy today,” he growled against the shell of your ear, his rising length rubbing against your core through layers of denim.

“I can see that.” You giggled, your hands dangling in his hair. “There’s no need to hate him so much, you know?”

“Says you,” Beau quipped and unzipped your jeans, eagerly pulling them off you as his mouth sucked your clavicle purple and blue. “That slimy coyote always had it out for me.”

Beau removed your panties as well, tossing them behind his shoulder where they landed in the kitchen sink. “Whoops.” He grinned charmingly but was unstoppable, freeing his throbbing dick as he shoved his jeans and boxers barely over his ass. He didn’t bother to slip out of them all the way, too impatient to wait any longer to enter you.

“Still, I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” you said and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as one large hand on your back pulled you closer to the edge of the table. His other hand grabbed his cock, twisting his fist along the hard, long shaft a few times before he glided his cockhead through your slick folds.

“Not always.” With one harsh thrust, he pushed inside you, your tight walls fighting to make room for him and adjust to his stretch.

You gasped at the pleasurable burn that coursed through your body and ignited every sizzling nerve. He dropped his head to your shoulder, giving both of you some time to get used to each other. You could tell you were in for a wilder ride tonight. You always loved when he fucked you rough and hard. There was something raw and animalistic about the need in his hypnotizing green eyes.

Beau then claimed your lips with one fervent kiss, enough of a spark to cause a wildfire. He met your gaze, hands gingerly cupping your cheeks. “But I love that you’re mine now. And I’m sure as hell gonna make you mine tonight, darlin’.”

You crashed your lips against his, your kisses frenzied and untamed as his hips began to slam into you. His pounds into your pussy were relentless as you swallowed every inch of him. You gripped him tight, already feeling your first orgasm bloom. It accumulated like dark, violent storm clouds on the horizon, forecasting roaring thunder and heavy rainfall.

“Oh God! Fuck, baby!” You screamed as your climax tore through you like a hurricane, your cunt gushing on his cock and pulsing around him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades and scratched down his back as you came undone.

Beau groaned into your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as he barely held on himself. But he didn’t let up and kept up his furious pace, not ready to stop yet. “Shit, keep doing that. You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he grunted against your skin, your sensitive flesh barely withstanding his ruthless pumps. “Want you to come again, darlin’.”

With his declaration, his hand slipped between your sweat-clad bodies. You came close to losing your mind as he thumbed furiously at your clit, the stars already starting to twinkle in front of your eyes. You could feel yourself get shoved to the edge once more, staring down the steep cliffs of white-hot ecstasy.

Your mind was consumed by need, his grip on your hips bruising as you exploded. You cried out raucously, your whole body quaking in his hold upon your eruption, the aftershocks so powerful they could cause cracks in your bones.

Beau spilled his seed deep inside of you, his body stuttering in rhythm with yours as your earthquake took him down with you. Hazy gazes met each other with lazy smiles as ragged breaths mingled.

“Fuck, that was good. I think that one might make it into our Top Ten.” Beau chuckled gravelly and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hmm, not sure. We have a few greatest hits.” You giggled and bit down on your lower lip with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

Beau cupped your cheeks, thumbs caressing the heated and rosy skin as he lifted your gaze. “Anything.”

“Just between us, you’re the best lover I ever had,” you confessed with a wide grin. The corners of his mouth rose to match yours.

“Well, between us, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it, darlin’. You know that, right? You’re the love of my life,” Beau revealed, making you smile brighter than you ever had before.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but this moment, right here, is probably gonna make it into the Top Ten,” you said softly as a few tears stung your eyes.

“Good.” Beau smiled and pecked your forehead.

The buzzing of a phone shifted your attention. You recognized it as yours, and Beau was quick to retrieve it from your jeans pocket in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“It’s Jenny,” you told him before picking up. “Hello… What?! Uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Beau’s brow furrowed as he watched your features flicker through an array of emotions. “Bad news?”

“Uhm, honestly, I don’t know,” you said and swallowed some of your confusion down, gathering your thoughts. “Jenny said Diane just walked into the station and gave herself up. She is ready to confess but only wants to talk to us.”

“Us? As in us two?” Beau’s eyes narrowed. You nodded. “Well, that doesn’t sound fishy at all,” he commented wryly.

“Yup, I don’t like it.”

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds – JUNE 26

A lot of revelations and foreboding in this one... 👀 Also, I just love having Beau say the word "coyotes" for some reason 😂

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

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@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @autistic-gothic

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser @spnfamily-j2

[skeletboi]

Super short update because my life is a mess.

But here is part 24 of the Intridimensional Au!

First /// Previous /// Next

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“Impressive as ever.” Ford said as he looked at the robot arm on the work bench.

“Thanks, Stanford.” Fiddleford replied quietly.

Ford watched Fiddleford place his good hand over the arm then glanced up at Fiddleford's face and frowned.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Lots a’ things are, I reckon.” Fiddleford said with a humorless huff of laughter. “Ya know when I went back home fer Christmas and fergot ta get Emma-May a present?”

“I recall, yes.” Ford responded, his frown deepening.

“She was already purdy darn mad at me before that. I wore baggy sweaters ta try and hide the metal cast on my arm so she wouldn't go worryin’ ‘bout it, but Tate ain't dumb and heard the hum of the components. He asked me about it, ‘cuz he's at that age where they ask a million questions, and I told him it was a metal cast. ‘Course he's an imaginative kid so he immediately started calling it a robit arm. He ran ta Emma-May ta tell her, and I thought she was ‘bout to murder me on the spot.” Fiddleford paused and picked up the arm. “He'd love this, but Emma-May would hate it.”

“I love it, if that makes you feel any better.” Ford said, placing a hand on Fiddleford's back.

“It does.” Fiddleford said with another quiet laugh. “But I can't stop thinkin’ about that. Emma-May knew how I felt ‘bout you in college, and we got in a purdy big fight ‘bout it before I came ta Gravity Falls. I love Emma-May, but our parents both loved the idea of us bein’ together more than we did. I think maybe we were more like best friends than spouses, but I promised her I'd be back ‘cause, above all else, we jus’ wanted Tate ta have a normal childhood.” Fiddleford set the arm back down and choked on a laugh that sounded suspiciously more like a sob. “‘Spose I'll jus’ hafta live with the fact that he won't. I don’ know if he'll ‘member me at all.”

“Fidds…” Ford said softly, unsure of what else to say with his own guilt and regret tearing at his chest.

“If I knew it was gonna turn out this way I prolly woulda jus’ said screw it and kissed ya as soon as ya opened the door to yer damn creepy cabin in the woods.”

Ford cracked a smile at that, but Fiddleford still looked a thousand miles away as he stared down at the arm.

“You would have stopped me.” Ford said after a moment.

Fiddleford glanced over at him in question.

“You say you would have kissed me right then, but I know you, and, if you had known this was the outcome, you would have left.” Ford clarified.

“Maybe.” Fiddleford responded thoughtfully, “But maybe not. Maybe I’m too scared in every timeline.”

“Fuck that.” Stan said, coming up behind them and dropping the last box at their feet. “I saw your face when Ford mentioned fighting back against Bill. That wasn't fear. That was determination.”

Fiddleford smiled sadly over his shoulder at Stanley.

“I thought you'd grow out of being so cheesy.” Ford deadpanned.

“Nope!” Stan replied with a smile. “But if you two are done being nauseating, we have some boxes to go through. I found a box of brown meat! It says it expires in 1993, but who the fuck knows what year it is in this dimension. My plan is to eat it now, ask questions later!”

“I believe you meant ‘die of food poisoning later’.” Ford noted.

“Or die of starvation! Might as well eat mystery food and die the fun way!” Stan laughed.

“Dysentery don't sound fun.” Fiddleford replied.

“Whatever, nerds.” Stan said, motioning to the boxes. “Just grab what you want so we can get on with life. I found a shot gun, too. You're welcome.”

Fiddleford laughed but did as he was told and put aside his arm project to start rummaging through the boxes.

___________________________________________

Sorry non-Fiddauthor fans. I needed Fiddauthor.

I originally wasn't going to write this bit in, but I wanted to give some context to the guilt they're both still feeling and the relationship between Emma-May and Fidds. Emma-May is bi in this universe, but prefers woman. Is that a cop-out to make myself feel better about how much Fidds hurt her? Yes, yes it is. But I am doing it anyway because I do what I fucking want.

I have another art piece nearly done, so I'll probably post it tomorrow. For now, enjoy. Or whatever.

[moochi-daisies]

2015.03.

- 18+ Minors DNI

- Warnings: Some cussing?, a little kissy reunion, brief mention of sexting but no details or NSFW content, tensions are high

- Length: 5.3k words

- Sidenotes: i'm gonna finish the damn thing! for myself if anything, i do love this story and it's probably a good thing that it makes me feel things. as always, thank you for reading if you do :)

Find the rest here!

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"Excited to see you."

The message from Yoongi had shown up on my phone minutes ago and I found myself unable to stop staring at it.

     It was the day the guy's were moving, and I was on FaceTime with Jungkook. Jimin, Tae and Jungkook were in one car together. Hobi, Namjoon, Lacey and Yoongi in another (they finally had another car with Lacey being there).

"Baaaby." Jungkook called out and I snapped out of my trance. Noticing the frown in the small square my face was in.

"Yes! Sorry, I was-" I started to explain before Jungkook cut me off.

"Thinking. Yeah, you do that a lot." He snickered, "What about?"

     No point in hiding it, was there?

     "Ooh, um, Yoongi just texted that he's excited to see me." I had my eyes glued to Jungkook's face, fear of his reaction taking precedence over my own feelings. Wiping me into a blank slate.

     A hush fell over the car before Jungkook sat up in the backseat, raking his fingers through his hair.

     "Hm. Well I'm glad he's not bein' weird." He muttered huskily, looking down as he said it.

     I hurriedly tried to comfort him;

     "Yeah me too."

     "It'd be hella awkward if he was still mad."

     "I'm glad he seems to be accepting of you and me."

     Jungkook perked up at the last part, grinning like a goof and shifting his gaze from the floor to look at me again. There was almost a sigh of relief when he spoke, "Yeah, I'm glad he is too."

     Jungkook turned his phone towards Tae, who was craning his neck to look at me, turning from his passenger side seat.

     "Yeah, you two love-birds are kinda hard to ignore darling. Yoongi would have to work too hard to not be cool with it." The words were uncomfortable, the feelings they left stuck in my throat and filled it with lumps. He shot me an unsure boxy smile before reaching for the phone to show me Jimin.

     Jimin had his hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel, his eyes were wide with lips puckered into a duck pout while he focused on driving.

     He swiveled his head briefly to glance at me before turning back to the road, "It is what it is either way. He's gotta accept that he chose Lacey. And anyways, what's more exciting is that... WE WILL ALL BE TOGETHER AGAIN!" He paused for emphasis before yelling out the last part. His head tilted up briefly during his exclamation before snapping back down to stare at the road with giant eyes and a terrified look.

     "TOGETHER AGAIN!" Tae, Jungkook and I repeated the phrase with giant smiles.

     "Somebody take over for Jimin soon please, I hate seeing him so stressed." I giggled.

Jimin didn't turn his head but scowled softly, nodding in agreement.

     "I'm not cut out for this."

     Jungkook took over driving next, keeping me on the phone as the three of them performed songs from each of their playlists. Jungkook's was all over the map, Jimin's was full of  high notes and dance songs while Tae had jazzy lo-fi RnB. I had grown up dancing and knew the most from Jimin's playlist. I tried my best not to screech as I sang along with them.

     After telling Jimin why I knew so many of his songs, he asked why I'd stopped dancing. When I told him I still was, Jungkook's head twisted so fast he turned the wheel with him. The guys hollered out "woah's" and I tried to use the distraction of the moment to keep my face from falling. Dance had been the great love of my life along with writing. I'd started when I was 3, but self-consciousness had been driving a wedge between us since I turned 11. It was something I didn't want to get into, at least, not on a video call while they were in the car.

     I kept my phone near me as I cleaned my room and got ready to meet them. There were still many hours to go but Yoongi's text was flashing like a check engine light behind my eyes. Sitting in front of my mirror, I swiped a mascara wand through my eyelashes, over, and over and over again. Trying to get each lash perfectly separated.

      I had been working at it for at least 45 minutes, using the most minuscule clump as an excuse to keep at it. Blinking and messing up my own work repeatedly.

Yoongi and Jungkook would both be here tonight.

Together.

At the same place.

Together.

I had told Jungkook I'd kiss him in front of Yoongi and I still planned on it. But the feelings of Yoongi being close to me were jumping into memory, as if they had been freshly made. The feelings I'd been convincing myself I was over were now pumping through me with undeniable "there-ness". How my heart would pummel into my stomach. How my skin would buzz with butterfly wings from head to toe. I couldn't get those feelings out of my mind.

     What if I kissed Jungkook and Yoongi got angry at me again?

     What if he kissed Lacey in front of me and Jungkook saw me get upset?

     What if Lacey noticed the weird energy between us and told Jungkook and tried to get him next?

     What if I'm a selfish horrible asshole for wanting both of them?

     Oh god, I am a selfish, horrible asshole for wanting both aren't I? Yoongi chose another and I did the same, that's something we both have to accept, isn't it? Yoongi isn't mine. He's barely even a friend right now, let alone someone to be considering as -

     "You're already pretty, you don't need to do that baby." I heard Jungkook saying and I glanced down at my phone. I'd forgotten he could see me. I couldn't even remember him and Tae switching driving spots.

     In an attempt to cover up my tumultuous thoughts, I struck a pose. Twisting one knee over the other and placing a hand behind my head, elbow opening up to the side.

     "You think I'm pretty?" I said as coyly as I could, batting my eyelashes at him.

     "The prettiest."

His response got groans from Tae and Jimin.

     "Save it for when you're together. And alone. In your own room." Jimin griped out.

     Jungkook and I snickered to ourselves before blushing.

     And with Jimin's words came a nervousness that overrode my thoughts of Yoongi. Or, at least rivaled them.

It had been one thing to call Jungkook all the time, to send some...mature pictures and texts to each other, to jokingly broach the topic of being physical once we were together again.

Remembering the impulsive urges to lick the sweat off his neck, to keep riling him up to feel him press himself up against me, made my heartbeat drop between my legs. As I clenched them together, I was momentarily grateful for the distance.

Jungkook looked at me bashfully, tucking curly black hair behind his ear and biting his lip through his smile.

I wanted to smash my face into his dimple and hold him so tightly that my arms gave out.

"Maybe we could- um, it would be- I'd like to dance with you when we're all set at the studio. Hey! Maybe you could be Jimin's TA too!" The earnest way he spoke had me pressing my nails into one of my thighs. He was so genuinely sweet. And I couldn't understand what it was that he liked about me.

Especially with the bullshit I had going on with Yoongi.

Not once had he ever threatened to leave or forced me to chose or tried to manipulate me away from my own feelings.

He simply stayed and kept being there. Kept showing me that he cared.

An entire flock of doves fluttered their wings inside my chest at his words. Teddy bear brown eyes were perfectly rounded and his mouth was slightly open while he waited for my response. A pink tongue darted out to mess with his lip rings, a nervous habit he could never believe I noticed (he swore he only did it when nobody was paying attention).

"I love you" was dangerously close to the tip of my tongue, which would be insane, so I tried to maintain my flirty demeanor.

"I'd love to dance with ya handsome," I cooed and wiggled my fingers at him, "It'd be so fun to work together, although it might be too distracting..." I felt embarrassed of myself by the end of my sentence. He was offering to work and do something we both love together and there I was, turning it into some-

"Baby look at this." Jungkook sounded excited, and my eyes shot back to the screen.

He was doing an incredible combination of tutting, shimmying and chest popping. All movement should have been limited to his upper body but he slid back and forth across the backseat, making sound effects as he did.

"Pow! Pow!" His opened and closed a fist to mimic a heartbeat as he popped his chest behind it. Finishing with a wink and cheesy grin.

I stood up and burst into applause, shouting encore in a raised whisper to mimic a scream.

"Pretend I can wolf whistle, and that I just wolf whistled." I murmured getting Jungkook's goofy giggle as a response.

"I love you both, but if you were together with me at work I think I might throw up." Jimin piped up.

"They did want another teacher though so...keep it in mind, yeah?"

"She nodded!" Jungkook yelled up to the front seat and I heard a loud smacking sound before Jungkook feigned being in pain.

"Hurry up and get here soon." I pouted at him while he adjusted himself to lay down.

Jungkook looked at me softly before his gaze flickered to something behind the screen. A clouded expression took over his face before saying, "I'll be there soon baby. I'm gonna sleep before my next turn to drive. I'll text you when we're almost there ok?"

I'd been so spoiled by his constant desire to talk to me that him hanging up while still conscious led to a pit growing in my stomach.

I paced around my room for a few minutes, trying to figure out what the reason for it could be until my phone dinged.

"Sorry baby, Yoongi called and Jimin was giving me a look. Miss you already."

I never had to play the "what if" game for long with Jungkook, he always gave me the answer without me even having to ask.

A few hours later, he let me know that they were about 30 minutes away.

     Black skinny jeans, combat boots, cropped black lacy top (that did wonders for my boobs if I may say so myself) and leather jacket on - I stumbled out of my front door, down the apartment stairs and into the family car.

     There was music playing on the drive, an album by Bombay Bicycle Club on repeat the whole time. But I couldn't tell you anything else about it. The scenery outside of the car was a smeared watercolor painting and for someone who usually gets lost even with a GPS, the way there felt eerily clear despite never seeing it before. The music formed a protective bubble to carry me along, the lyrics delivering a message that I wouldn't understand until much later on.

     "There's a story which in my eyes shut,

     Could you back me up,

     Could you back me up"

     The drive took a little over half an hour, the music getting harder to hear as I got closer, the sensation in my stomach growing from a pit into a black hole. By the time I pulled up to park on the street outside of their soon to be house, remembering to breathe had turned manual, the feeling in my legs an electrifying buzz instead of anything solid.

     I had beat them there thankfully, so I sat with my car running for a few minutes more. The guitar from Bombay Bicycle Club swirled around my head in ocean waves, the lyrics spiraled through my ears and wrapped up my insides as sentient vines.

      "You can rearrange me now,

     If we wait we can make it somehow

     What you want

     What you want

     Anything you want" - I shut the car off before the next lyrics could begin.

     "You tease this love,

     You care enough".

     Am I just teasing this love? This thing with JK? I do care enough. I care more than enough, these feelings are real, they are, I swear I -

     I had sunk so deep into my feelings that I didn't notice a car pulling up behind me until the horn was honked, effectively scaring the crap out of me and making every muscle in my legs clench up. Stepping out of my car felt like trying to stand as a newborn deer, jello limbs fighting to support my weight. The car windows were tinted and the sun had set quickly - turning the ability to identify who was in the car into a guessing game. Was Jungkook's car the one with tinted windows? It was like I had never seen their car before. I hadn't been texting with the other car and had no idea what their ETA was, this was about the time Jungkook should be here right?

     Right?

     I let hope get the best of me and sucked in air as I walked towards the backseat car door, the one behind the driver's seat. Reached my hand towards the handle and flung the door open with a big, "Hey baby!" and a grin that I hoped looked genuine instead of terrified.

     Lacey's confused face greeted me in return before she burst into a snicker.

     "Um, hey babe! What a greeting, haha, oh my god, wait - Yoong's I'm stuck, push me out." She turned back to look at Yoongi who was out of my sight in the backseat.

     I had frozen as soon as I opened the door. Keeping the grin plastered to my face as if seeing Lacey and Yoongi first wasn't eating a hole in my chest like a ravenous and carnivorous worm.

     The front doors of the matte gray car opened, a yawning Namjoon and Hobi exiting from each side. They reached their arms up towards the sky as they stretched, their eyes crinkling with growing smiles as they turned to face me. In an attempt to get away from Lacey and avoid looking at Yoongi, I threw my arms around Namjoon and let out a little squeal.

     "You made it safe!" I exclaimed, a sense of relief sliding down to quell the black hole that was threatening to consume me from the inside out. My arms clasped around Namjoon's waist and he wrapped his around my shoulders, the enveloping warmth of the hug rising like a force field around me. His giant chest had the same effect as a weighted blanket the moment I turned my head to press against it. Muscular arms squeezed me back into my body, while one of his thumbs stroked up and down - reassuring and soft. Just like him.

     "Thanks for driving out here to welcome us home!" Namjoon spoke the words directly onto the top of my head, his mouth mussing up the top of my hair. Warm breath tingled into my scalp, down my shoulders and spine until I could feel the ground beneath my feet again. Although the grounded feeling didn't last long.

     Noises from the backseat reminded me it wasn't time to relax just yet and I directed my eyes to Hobi through the gap under Namjoon's arms.

     Hobi had his lanky arms stretched out towards me, beckoning me with his hands and a dimpled closed mouth smile spread across his glowing face. He had on a bucket hat, oversized hoodie and baggy jeans - with patterns that nobody else would have been able to pull off beside him.

     Craning my neck, I turned to look up at Namjoon, my cheek squished against his left pec. Giant dimples and the most calming smile greeted me in response, "Go say hey to Hobes - I gotta start getting stuff out of the car." He released me from the hug, reaching one hand up to ruffle my hair before dipping down into the front seat to pop the trunk open.

     Lacey had both feet out of the car and my ears were pricked by Yoongi's deep rumble of a voice. With the most intentional of intentions, I directed my gaze towards Hobi and made a beeline over to him - without Namjoon's arms around me, the ability to feel the ground disappeared, making it feel like I was floating until my arms were around Hobi's neck.

     Long, slender arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me up - spinning me in a circle while Hobi let out a string of excited sound effects. We both kept giggling and the vibrations of his laugh must have been set to a healing frequency because I've never felt so light while being picked up before.

     "The drive was SO long! I can't believe we're here! Tae said they'll be here in a minute. Oh my god, oh my GOD, can you believe this is finally happening??" Hobi set me down in front of him, keeping his hands around my hips as he bounced up and down.

     I bounced up and down with him, trying not to press my nails into his shoulders and betray my excitement with the complex emotions lying underneath.

     "I know, I know!! You made it! We can hang out again!" I bubbled back.

     My brown eyes locked in to his, starting a secret and wordless conversation that went something like:

Hobi: "Are you doing okay girl? I mean, they're right there..."

Me: "Of course I'm not fucking okay! JK isn't here yet and I called Lacey babe! I can't even look at Yoongi!

Hobi: "You're gonna have to soon, and JK is almost here. Lacey is going to play nice in front of everyone don't worry, but don't give her a reason."

Me: "Ok cool thanks, yeah, that is SUPER HELPFUL HOBI!"

Hobi: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You got this! The rest of us are here don't worry!"

     That did help with the worry.

     At least, until I developed super-hearing as Yoongi got out of the car. Every movement he made, every sound that came from him, was like it was being fed directly into my eardrum through an amplifier. I could hear him breathe, hear the sound his hair made as it fell in front of his face when he looked down to step out of the car.

And I wasn't even looking at him. 

    

     Instead, I continued clinging onto Hobi with a vice grip while he patted my hips and gave me encouraging nods.

    "1, 2, 3 - you're off!" He whispered as he pulled me in for one last squeeze. Spinning me around to face Lacey and Yoongi as soon as the countdown was over.

     My heart was beating so hard, it felt like it was pumping bile back up my throat and onto my tongue. It took a moment for my eyes to focus, or maybe I didn't want them to.

     But when they did, Yoongi's long black hair and round face were crystal clear, even in my peripheral vision. His dark brown eyes were laser focused on me, meltingly beautiful and with a sense of determination that didn't match the rest of his body language.

     One arm was around Lacey, who stood next to him, fidgeting and with an upset look on her face. His other arm was trying to find a pocket to stuff his phone into. He could've looked down. It would've made it much easier to do if he had looked down, but he didn't. I couldn't tell you how long it was for, but he never stopped looking at me. Moments kept passing, the distance between the curb and the street continuously morphing from too close to too far away.

     Why didn't he stop looking at me?

     The sound of Jungkook, Jimin and Tae's car snapped us out of the trance we were in. The frown that had taken over Lacey's face dissipated, replaced with a sweet smile and syrupy voice. She turned to Yoongi, tucking hair behind his ear and kissing him on the corner of his mouth with big bambi eyes. Yoongi kept his eyes on the ground, nodding as Lacey spoke to him in a low voice. Her words jumbled together in my ears as I glanced towards the black car and saw the outlines of 3 heads, one moving considerably more than the others.

     "Girl! Now that I'm out of the car finally- get over here, we missed you so much!" She waved me over, scanning my face intensely and not once looking over to see Yoongi's reaction.

     But I did.

     Maybe that was my first mistake. Where it all started. It couldn't be helped though - Closer? To Yoongi? Was that allowed? I hadn't even seen Jungkook yet, wouldn't that be inconsiderate? How could I touch Yoongi first? What would happen? If I touched Yoongi first? He shouldn't be first, he couldn't be. Especially not while he's standing there with someone else, touching someone else - I mean, wait - hang on -

     "BABY!" Jungkook's voice bellowed out so loudly, the rest of us visibly flinched before dispersed chuckles from Namjoon, Hobi and I. Behind the driver's seat of the car that had just pulled up, the window had been rolled down - JK's dimples, inky curls and perfect roly-poly nose poked out, an arm waving at me furiously. Everything else faded away as soon as I saw him, the only thing on my mind being to get into his arms as soon as possible. I waved back with a blush before turning to excuse myself from the couple before me.

     Lacey had crossed her arms with a scowl and Yoongi had turned to look up at the sky, the neighborhood - anywhere besides at what was going on around him. The space in my heart made for Yoongi pushed back against the rest, trying to expand.

     It didn't last long though.

That slight falter in my chest was quickly snuffed out by the literal wind being knocked out of me.

     In the moment I had turned to glance at Lacey and Yoongi, Jungkook had exited the car, running towards me at full speed before tackling me to the ground.

     A big, strong hand covered the back of my head, palm pressing into skull, as the other pushed into my lower back - pressing me against his body as we fell. If the full weight of my body landing on top of him caused him any trouble, the only way he showed it was a small "ack!" the moment it happened.

     Zero recovery time needed.

     It felt like less than a second.

     And there he was, sitting on the grass by the edge of the curb.

My handsome man. The bunny to my bunny. Mine, all mine. Who I belonged to.

     With no thought at all, my legs straddled his lap, hands gliding with their own agenda up his neck so fingers could grip into thick, dark hair. One tattooed arm held me pressed against him like it was life or death if he loosened it at all. The pounding of our hearts thudded ferociously through layers of muscles, fat, skin and clothes - screaming to reach the other. His other hand held onto one of my hips, pressed down to make me sit my full weight on him and even then, I still felt weightless.

     Breathless and breathing too hard, we looked at each other. Taking it all in. The feeling of each other's real flesh and blood filling up our senses, attempting to commit it all to memory.

     Both of my hands released their grip from his hair to hold the sides of his face.

     We were pressed so tightly against each other that I could feel his heartbeat pick up and hear the shakiness in his voice. How it betrayed the conviction of his words as he murmured, "I'm gonna kiss you in front of everyone.".

     I leaned in slowly, trying not to notice the way that all of my limbs were trembling.

     "Not if I kiss you first." I whispered, breaking my gaze away from the perfect shape of his mouth to look him in the eyes.

     Without any hesitation, he lifted his chin to bring his lips to mine, pressing them so decidedly into a kiss that I briefly wondered if I had ever been kissed on purpose before.

     My body didn't erupt with butterflies or tingles or that drop in my stomach that I'd learned to associate with desire.

     Instead, I felt it opening. Like floodgates, with hunger. Welcoming him in while simultaneously wanting to consume and be consumed by him. Being so aware of where his body touched mine that every place it did felt on fire, and every place it didn't felt deprived of oxygen. Our eyes stayed closed for the most part, focused on taking in the feeling. Whenever they did open, the physical pang of desire almost hurt, banging out like a drum that reverberated through every part of our biochemical make up.

    

     And it wasn't too much for him.

     It was mutual.

     It was matched.

     Encouraged.

     Fueled.

     We were both the flame and the gasoline. Nobody could stop us, least of all each other.

     I completely forgot where we were. Who was around us. That we were sitting on the curb. Or that I hadn't said hi to Jimin, Tae or Yoongi yet.

    

     I don't remember how long we were kissing, if we were full blown making out or if anyone asked us to stop. I do, however, remember making a noise that I had never made before and the groan that came out of Jungkook that made us snap out of our lust-filled daze.

      Thwack.

While Jungkook and I were sat there, recuperating and processing - Jimin had walked up and smacked him in the back of the head.

     "I cannot wait for you to have your own room guys. For real. What the hell. It's not gonna be the same but come say hi to me lovely." Jimin's voice was playfully masking a command. JK fingers pressed into my hip like a release button and the realization of what we had done after looking at each other sunk in, turning us both beetroot red.

     I reached my hand towards Jimin to help pull me up, the bones in my legs not yet solidified. Jungkook sprung up behind me, guiding me by the waist as I stood before mumbling some "um's" and "uh's" and heading to their car. I was too scared to turn and face the others and pulled Jimin into a hug with the best "I missed you so much!" I could muster instead.

     Jimin's embrace was gentle. Like being covered with a cedar and honey scented cloud.

     "I missed you too lovely. I knew he was gonna jump ya but damn. Have you said hi to everyone yet?" Jimin's voice sang into my ear with the lightest hint of criticism. The sudden awareness of Hobi's glare stung the side of my face and I winced in Jimin's arms. His responsive squeeze giving some comfort that I hadn't ruined their arrival. At least not completely.

     Tae's silky voice floated over my head - a lifeline attached to a buoy that I was desperate to grab onto.

      "Well, can you blame the poor dear? We've been trapped! Stuck! Relying on modern technology like it's some accommodation for the prison that is distance." The dramatic way Tae spoke broke the tension and laughter burst out of me, spurred on by Jimin's equally dramatic eye roll.

     "My darling, I've missed you so. Did my letters find you well?" I drawled out, breaking away from Jimin to make my way to Tae, who promptly collapsed into my arms with the back of one hand pressed against his forehead. After a fit of nervous giggles over nearly dropping him, he stood up and flung his arms around my neck. Pressing kisses against my cheek as he rocked us side to side.

     "Some nights your words were the only things keeping me warm, my poetic angel." Tae declared his sentiment with a hand under my chin, his velvet brown eyes soft and sparkling.

     "Ahem, help me with the stuff T." Jungkook grumbled as he leaned against the back of the car next to the open trunk. His glare was focused on Tae's hands but melted into a puppy-eyed pout once he caught me noticing. Tae patted me on the cheek then jerked his chin up to acknowledge Yoongi and Lacey. Spinning me around to face them as he walked off to join Jungkook.

     Lacey's arms were still crossed, the emotions that made her scowl earlier now thinly veiled with a tight lipped smile. Yoongi on the other hand, looked like he had gotten into three fist fights and told he was getting drafted since I had last looked at him. His hair had become disheveled, a blank look on his face had taken over the determined one and his broad shoulders had sunken down. Like he had been defeated.

      Why did he look so defeated?

     Standing there with Lacey.

As if he had been hoping- no, that's not right. As if he had been expecting? Something like that.

     As if he had been expecting me to be so overwhelmed by seeing him again that I would've stopped anything from occurring with Jungkook. We both chose other people. This is the reality. This is where our actions had led us to. Was he operating under the assumption that things were different? That I was a mess without him? Like this was some Bella and Edward bullshit? Why was this making me so mad?

     "Wow boo! I wish this one would greet me like that!" Lacey joked, elbowing Yoongi and breaking her crossed arms stance to walk over to me. I pushed out a laugh and stepped off the curb to come towards her, opening my arms to pull her into a hug. For a quick second, and only a quick second, she buried her face into my shoulder before pulling away. Seeking comfort. From me of all people? It didn't make any sense. At least, not until I noticed a pleading look in her eyes that was both familiar and disorienting. It was one I would grow to understand too well over the next few years.

     And I think I knew the reason for that look, even back then. No matter how much I'd like to pretend otherwise. I think I knew as soon as my eyes drifted from her rounded, light hazel-green eyes to Yoongi's feline, nearly black ones.

     There was hope in his eyes.

Or maybe it was a reflection of the hope in mine.

Either way.

     Something was there.

     And the hands he had shoved into his pants pockets couldn't hide the way his arms jerked as I stepped towards him. As if to hug me. As if he wanted me in his arms. As if he knew I wanted the same.

Was it okay to hug him?

In front of Jungkook and Lacey?

In front of everybody?

     I didn't think much more about it.

My arms were around him and his were around me in less than a second. Heat blooming from the place where our stomachs touched just like it did before.

He was so real.

So beautifully and painfully, real.

     Like physics and atoms and the building blocks of life, this world was made to hold Yoongi just as much as this world would not exist without him.

     Fingers twitched against the middle of my back and my own reflexively grabbed at his shirt, bunching it into my grip and getting closer to the warmth of his skin.

     Too close.

     We both jumped back, simultaneously too aware of the world around us and unable to look at anything besides each other.

     I remember saying either out loud, or in my head, "Welcome home Yoongi.". But connecting my thoughts to my mouth was clogged up with sludge. It felt like I didn't need to say anything out loud anyway - he knew. I both loved and hated that he always knew.

     Yoongi answered, either out loud or through the vibration connecting us that was nearly singing with electricity. His words echoed in my head and the air around us as our eyes refused to waiver from each other.

     "It's good to be home," he said, "I mean, it's good to be home here. With you.".

[feroluce]

Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.

So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!

But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.

According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.

He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!

So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.

Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.

And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.

And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.

Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.

Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.

Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...

One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.

Gepard doesn't sleep that night.

Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.

Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.

She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.

"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.

Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.

His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?

“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.

Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.

“We don't even know-”

“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.

It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.

The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.

“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-

Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”

Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”

Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed. 

Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.

“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”

“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.

From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light. 

The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.

He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.

Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.

Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.

Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.

In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.

Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.

He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.

He only hopes that it's enough.

[necrotic-nephilim]

I started in DC by reading fanfics, but as I began to read actual comics, I started to be unable to read the actual fanfic that got me into it in the first place because it's so out of character.

But there are still some stories that I love to read because I love the found family trope so much, even if it isn't really accurate to the source material.

As a comics purist (sometimes), are there tropes that you like enough that you'll still enjoy a fic even if it's not accurate to canon?

oh my god this is SUCH a fun question. bc while i started with the comics, there were certain characters and/or character dynamics where i was exposed to the fanon before the canon (just bc it's hard to read everything when you start out just to read some fanfic) and so i've definitely experienced the fanon to canon transition. (*especially* with Jason Todd. i had only read 80s/90s stuff where he was already dead or the New-52 bc that was on-going when i got into comics and man. the fanon misunderstandings i had about him before i got frustrated and sat down to read all his pre-Flashpoint stuff were absolutely bonkers.) and aside from that, whilst i tend to prefer canon over fanon, i'm not past giving fanon its flowers for occasionally having really interesting insights. occasionally. so some of my fanon "guilty pleasure" tropes would probably be

Morally Grey Tim Drake - this is one where if you try to back it up with canon, i *will* get salty about it. of everyone in the Batfam aside from maybe Bruce and Cass, Tim has the *most* black and white morals. often his internal conflicts are routed in such an inability to compromise his moral views and it can cause him to clash with other characters. he's *very* stiff and rigid in his beliefs and is *rare* to compromise in even the smallest ways. i mean, DC has repeatedly used Tim Drake of Tomorrow/Savior/Gun Batman!Tim for a reason. it's to demonstrate that of everyone, Tim *cannot* have his morals compromised. there's no grey area for him. he's zero or a hundred, so if he tips over the edge of "too far" he tips *all the way*, and doing so is one of his worst fears, how he could go "too far" if he let himself. a couple panels out of context from Red Robin (2009) (which was a grief spiral for Tim to begin with) don't change that. now that said. if it's done *right*, i sort of love Tim being morally grey in fanfic. it takes a specific flavor for me, and it's incredibly important to include that mental spiral along with it, of him struggling to justify it. i don't have any interest in "Tim Drake is loosy goosy with Bruce's morals and has the highest kill count and no one knows teehee" bc it doesn't play with the interesting parts of making Tim morally grey, which are fracturing his psyche. but all in all, i think it's fun to put Tim in a morally grey area and i will read it in fanfic and i enjoy writing it a lot

Joker Junior!Tim Drake - i've not written it on this account (yet) but on my main ao3 account one of my biggest fics surrounds this concept. this is one of those "well *technically* it's canon but only in a specific very divorced from the comics universe and would not work at all in the main timeline" so, i categorize it as fanon in that 95% of fics exploring the concept are not doing so within the Batman Beyond universe, but the main timeline. i just love it. I'll take any excuse to whump Tim, but this concept is so fun. psychologically breaking Tim will always be my favorite pastime. there are so many ways to explore the long-term effects this could have on him, how it could affect the Batfam. i'm not a fan of it being used as a "gotcha" to Jason or Babs' trauma with the Joker to paint Tim as the Ultimate Victim, but it is fun to see how their relationships would be affected by being mutual victims of him. (i have a vague JayTim idea where TIm fully retires from being Robin after being Joker Junior and killing the Joker, making Steph Robin for most of his typical Robin era and Jason still tracks him down out of curiosity bc he wants to know what happened and all. very underbaked but i've got thoughts.)

Renegade/Apprentice of Slade!Dick Grayson - this is another one where yes, this happened *sort of* in canon, but i highly doubt most people writing Renegate!Dick have read or are actually pulling from Nightwing: Renegade. it's just an exploration fo the concept fo Dick being Slade's apprentice and i will always eat it up in any capacity. whether Dick grows up with Slade from a young age, or chooses Slade for whatever reason later in life. it's not anything that works in canon bc it compromises Dick morally (similar to the above with Tim) and therefore will always come across incredibly fanon in most fics. but i can't say i don't enjoy it. it's fun to make Dick a little morally fucked up and see what you can make him under Slade's tutelage.

Jason & Damian Meeting in the League -there's no world where i believe this could work in the canon comics. (maybe in the Young Justice cartoon i suppose, but even then i think it's iffy) i would go as far to say it's wildly unrealistic. i don't see a world where Ra's would let Jason anywhere *near* Damian, bc Jason was Talia's pet project that he didn't approve of. that all said, there's something very interesting about how they *could've* met and them potentially bonding during that timeframe. them being somewhat brotherly during this time because Jason sees Bruce in Damian and sort of latches onto the kid and Damian is full of wonder hearing real stories about Batman and Robin, then that getting violently ripped away by Jason leaving the League is fun to me. it's fun how that could affect them within the Batfam and all. it's super fanon to me, but i do not care. i will eat it up

Bad Dad Clark Kent/Good Dad Lex Luthor - i will admit as a late, i've been less and less kind to this particular fanon bc of everything i've argued with people about, *this* one seems the most pervasive as misunderstood fanon. i don't mind when fanon exists, my gripe is when ppl try to claim it's canon. and the *arguments* i've had over this with people who can never seem to cite an actual comic are... frustrating. but that said, i think there is something fun to this strictly in fanon. the duality of who you expect to accept Kon and who you expect to hurt him being flipped is just sort of fun for the occasional guilty pleasure fic. it can make Kon's internal conflict a bit more interesting. the same goes for the Jon favoritism from Clark, it's not a canon thing (and i rlly wish ppl understood how complicated the timeline of Kon and Jon is and any distance from Clark toward Kon isn't malice, it's that Kon is from a timeline that Clark does not remember in the current canon so Clark just straight up doesn't know the poor kid.) but it's sort of fun to give Kon that complex of being overlooked and forgotten sometimes. making Kon just a *bit* more Luthor than Kent will *always* appeal to me in fanfic, especially if he *knows* it's wrong but craves approval from anyone who will give it.

Good Dad Bruce Wayne - i'll die on the hill Bruce is canonically a shitty father. maybe not to the extreme some people write him as, but he's not great at it. that said, i enjoy it in fanfiction. sometimes, i just want silly fluff or hurt/comfort where Bruce finally gets it right and manages to comfort whatever Batkid is in the fic. one of my favorite fics of all time is hinged on Bruce being a good dad, so i think it's just fun to explore how good the relationships *could* be, if Bruce was slightly less of an asshole. i usually prefer him as an asshole, but there are times i want low stakes nonsense.

Gotham Rogues Having Soft Spots for Robin(s) - just about every Rogue in Gotham has done something absolutely irredeemable, and most of them don't like or care about anyone in the Batfamily. but if there's a fic where one of the Robins inexplicably is sort of close with a Rogue and they have a cute silly relationship out of it? I'll eat it up i fear. Steph and the Riddler are besties? I'll believe it. Tim and Scarecrow get along pretty well? give me ten of these. Rogues protecting Robins just hits a spot. the unexpected nature of the relationship, as well as the fact they see each other regularly, can make a lot of good fodder.

[hecksupremechips]

I’m not deep enough in the yttd fandom to really know if this is a controversial take to have but. I think soushin is interesting. I don’t think this in a “omg wow they’re soooo in love and I want them to be together” way, not at all lol. But I think to act like it’s impossible to see a romantic/sexual aspect of their relationship is really fucking stupid. I try to refrain from acting like there’s a solid truth to their relationship cuz the game isn’t finished yet so there’s always the likelihood that we’ll get more information later, but the thing that always gets me is when ai shin mentions that hiyori claimed to be an older student at his school but he later learned that wasn’t true. It sounds so eerily like a grooming story and the way we see human shin retreating into himself In reaction to that hits really hard, like he’s embarrassed it ever happened

Then there’s stuff like the detail that hiyori would always take pictures of shin without consent and would hang them up, or the fact that hiyori kept a personal shin ai for himself that he had control over, or the way that maple is supposed to parallel shin. It all just sounds like they had a relationship that blurred the lines a lot in a way that was very uncomfortable for shin. Moments like the shin ai sobbing and Hiyori saying “no don’t be like that show me your cool side shin!” and shin reacting to that, it’s like hiyori is trying to praise shin while hurting him. Seems way too much like a common occurrence

I think also (but maybe im just projecting) that shin is pretty queer coded in a lot of ways (hot springs scene, soft-natured personality that he tries to smother, his relationship with hiyori paralleling a romantic one, etc) and I think this plays into his relationship with hiyori a lot. Because of gender roles and toxic masculinity bullshit, i really doubt shins soft personality was allowed to fly under the radar for most people, so he was isolated a lot. Hiyori probably made him feel special at first with the way he seemed to like this about shin, but it becomes pretty clear that hiyori loves to fawn over shin and treat him like a cute baby and really only loves shins personality cuz he sees it as easy to take advantage of. I think it’s really easy to imagine a scenario where shin is a closeted teenager who finally has someone he feels he can confide in and hiyori blurs the lines between romantic and platonic a lot and shin latches onto this because he wants to feel like he can be loved by another boy and thinks this is his only shot. It’s way too common and all the pieces just fit right into place, you know? And I’m aware of the line where shin says hiyori is like an older brother to him but imo I think these two things can actually perfectly coexist cuz again, theres blurring of lines going on cuz this is an abusive relationship and feelings are being toyed with constantly

Basically all this to say, I very much think it’s likely that there was a romantic and sexual aspect to this relationship going on. I wouldn’t say they were labeling themselves as boyfriends or anything, more like it was a vague mess that hiyori refused to elaborate on. I don’t ship these two cuz I think it’s pretty clear shin wants out of this relationship, but I think inherently being mad someone wants to explore the idea of them having this kinda relationship is really ignorant and is only gonna result in only shallow ass takes about abusive relationships being allowed

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[lyxchen]

Having adhd sucks so bad, I can't even clean my room. I can't even write an email. I can't even shower regularly, I feel like I want to do everything at once and then I end up doing nothing and it's so frustrating!!

[beastsovrevelation]

I was looking through my notes for Good Omens fanfiction, and realized almost every damn story includes Crowley having a baby.

There's the one where Heaven and Hell decide to use an angel baby carried by a demon as a diplomatic tool, leading into Crowley being protected by Michael, and them falling in love.

There's the one where she leaves her baby with Anathema and disappears, which triggers all the following events - from the search, to Aziraphale's trial, and everything else.

There's the one where she has to supply the new Antichrist, which leads to her and Lucifer falling in love, and her being crowned the Queen of Hell. (Well, this one is really two stories set in different timelines, in the second one the "baby" is like 27)

In the one inspired by a dream, she does have a baby eventually, but that's far from the worst thing that happens to her. Gabriel's treatment of her after is... How the Hell will I write this damn thing if I can't even think about it.

There's no baby in the one where she gets tortured with diluted holy water.

I see I have no storyline with male Crowley just yet... Fine, that's not true. I do have some thoughts for Crowley x Fem!Lucifer... It could include a new Antichrist, too. And, Crowley wouldn't be the pregnant one for once. But, dealing with pregnant Lucifer would probably be even scarier.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

openly weeping at the idea of someone genuinely hating soul punk.