#future bun! this is past bun in the tags! i made this post-

[bun-lapin]

This is mostly me planning out loud but also just as a general heads up:

Within the next month or so, I am planning to make a bunch of posts introducing most of the OCs I have been developing but couldn't write anything for in the past year because I was busy moving to the other side of the country. I will also (hopefully) be writing more fics featuring these OCs.

OC Math!

2 twst Yuu OCs (crack and slice of life!)

7 NRC 4th year student OCs (yaoi???)

7 twst world OCs (yuri???)

6 non-twst OCs (from a parody isekai fic I'm working on for fun/practice. It will only be posted on ao3 but I thought it'd be fun to share little snippets here) (still not sure if I'm gonna do that though... we'll see lol)

.......oh my god that is probably too many 😅 Ah well~! At least I'm having fun <3

[jerseygirllll]

bittersweet cherries I e.m CHAPTER 8

previous chapter

couple: eddie munson x aurora henderson (OC)

word count: 1.3k

summary: cute memory of dustin, eddie, and aurora. hellfire meeting and more people seeing her since returning

a/n: a short chapter again lol, sorry! i am thinking of doing a couple bigger scenes I want to try and stretch into multiple (at least two) chapters.

_________

“But mom, I promised Eddie I would come over after school.” You whined into the phone. Toying with the coiled cord trying to ignore what your mom was telling you. 

“Aurora, I am not telling you again. I need you to watch your brother after school today. No exceptions” Her voice stern enough to realize she wasn’t going to let up. 

“Mom.”

“Aurora.” 

“Not funny, mom. Please, I wanna go to Eddie’s today.” Begging seemed like the only way you could possibly get out of this. “Dustin can ride back home by himself. He does it all the time and he is always fine.”

“Aurora, watch your brother after school today or you won’t be allowed to go to Eddie’s for the unforeseen future.”

“What the fu- fine. I will watch him.” You slammed the phone into the receiver of the pay phone, almost snapping it in half with anger. Letting out an exasperated sigh you slung your heavy backpack on and trudged over to the elementary school to go pick up your very annoying brother. 

______

“Hey, Rory! Oh, hello?” Eddie’s face through the screen door distorted once he saw your younger brother's figure pop out from behind you. 

“Sorry, Ed’s. I got stuck watching him today. Is it okay?” Your face probably flushed with embarrassment for springing this on the guy. You were a little worried he would say no since he’s never met Dustin before and you have been the only person to come over before. But that gave you some trust. 

“Yeah, com’on in little dude.” He greeted your brother warmly, pushing the screen out so you two could walk in. Dustin came around your side and walked into the trailer. Key chains rattling on the side of his backpack as he entered. 

“Welcome to Castel Munson.” 

Eddie showed Dustin where he could drop his stuff off as you did it out of a force of habit. Shoes cluttered the base of a coat rack where miscellaneous coats and jackets hung, currently out of use with the spring weather. Eddie’s (then) brand new denim vest hung on the post closest to the door right next to your denim jacket that you left here last time. 

“Can we play a game? Or watch a movie, please?” Dustin asked while swinging his arms around as he explores the small trailer. 

“Dustin, don’t be a pain- it’s alright, Ror.” Eddie walked past you and softly squeezed your arm. You just sighed again and went to grab your notebook so you could get your homework done. 

“Do you know what Dungeon and Dragons is?” Eddie asked curiously. You could see Darin trying to figure out if he did by his facial expression being all scrunched up. 

“I do not as a matter of fact.” 

“Then I’m gonna teach you because it is the best game in the whole damn world. Com’on you got a lot of learn’ to do.” Eddie and Dustin went straight back into his room gathering Eddie’s containers of dnd characters, piles of notebooks with rules and explanations. 

The pair crashed down on the floor of the living room and covered the floor in materials. All afternoon, as you did your homework and later made some snacks for the crazy boys, Eddie taught Dustin everything he needed to know about D&D, helped him create his first character and show him some special tricks. 

Even though you complain the whole walk over to Eddie’s on having to bring Dustin with you, you were so excited that they were getting along. 

Dustin begged you for a while after that to tag along with you whenever you went over to Eddie’s. 

——————-

The second you pushed the double doors open Eddie felt like he was back in high school with you. Your hair is pulled up into a very messy bun, your own curls springing out in some places and framing your face. A cherry coke bottle was held in your hand along with a plastic bag most likely filled with some snack you bought for everyone. 

It is just like how it was throughout high school. Eddie would stay afterschool to hold Hellfire meetings and you’d be heading to your shift at the bookstore. Eddie would beg you to blow off work and come watch the game even if he knew you’d stop by after work because you always did. 

Every Monday and Thursday when Eddie and his gang held meetings at school you'd walk all the way back to the old building after your shift. Stopping at the gas station between the two locations to pick up snacks, a carton of smokes if you knew Eddie was getting low, and always, a cherry coke. 

Cherry coke was apart of your signature on top of your vanilla and cherry perfume, red chuck taylors and red chipped nail polish you always had on your nails.  

“I am glad to see you are all alive and well.” Letting out a chuckle as you see everyone’s face react to your presence. 

“Aurora!! Oh my gosh.” Erica almost fell out of her seat trying to get to you. Lucas and Jeff followed suit walking over with Gareth, Mike and Will trailing behind. 

One giant bear hug commenced as they all tried to hug you at once. 

“Guys, it’s getting hard to breathe.” Short apologies all spilled from their mouths as they back away slightly. 

“I cannot believe you are here right now. What the hell, man!” Jeff and Gareth stunned more than you’d ever seen them. 

“Dude, it’s only been a couple of days. I still cannot believe it.” Your face naturally turned to a smile as you looked over your friends. As you spotted Eddie frizz behind Mike's head you quickly swerved around everyone and headed towards him. 

“Hey, princess.” He opened his arms for you to gladly accept a hug. 

“Hey, yourself, dungeon master.” 

Which started some comments on how Eddie knew you were back and didn’t tell. Leading Lucas and Erica to get very offended that Mike had seen you before too. And it just kept going from there, constant chatting and sharing the snack you bought. 

Eventually everyone started to settle down again and finished up the last bit of today's campaign. You joined in to observe next to Eddie on the old directors chair you were shocked to see still in one whole piece. 

“Had to keep your seat available for ya,” Eddie whispered as you pulled it next to his throne. “knew you’d always come back.” Shooting you a wink before turning his attention back to the game. 

“Thank you, handsome.” You comfy in your chair knowing it might take a while for when to wrap up.

Being back in Hawkins is still unreal for you. It took you a lot longer than your originally thought to get yourself back together and come back home. Which of course, made you even more worried about Eddie. 

You left with no notice. A small note tacked on the cork board in the kitchen was how you told your mom and Dustin you had left. The cab had already dropped you off at the bus station by the time they realized you were gone. Leaving with a reason is ten times better than leaving without a reason. Which technically you did have one but you just didn’t share it with anyone. But soon, you’d have to confess to Eddie what happened and why you left. 

Being back for the few days you were, having seen a few of your friends and seeing Eddie for the first time in a year made you realize that this is where you meant to be. 

Here in Hawkins. 

Here with Eddie. 

Here surrounded by all your friends. 

Hawkins was your home. 

You leaned onto Eddie’s shoulder. Letting yourself relax into his warmth radiating from his body. He was a wonderful thing during the winter but very unfortunate in the summer. For him at least. You always got to see all his tattoos on display from him not wearing a shirt. 

“I missed this.” 

[gothicmama]

Basilina's Beginning

Basilina escaped from an awful home life and made a life for herself with the circus. What happens when that life is threatened and she has to run again?

AO3 link: Basilina's Beginning - GothicMama - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

I'm not entirely happy with this, but I think it's ready to post. Idk what to tag it with, so those may change in the future. The story itself may also change, but if I do that I'll put a date in the notes about it. I know nothing about circuses and carnivals and all that other than what I've seen in media and researched, so if anything is inaccurate, I'm sorry, I tried!

Cirque du Bizarre was a unique circus. One could simply claim it was just a freakshow, a product of a bygone era, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate. It had the expected circus features, a giant tent, the three rings, the ringmaster. It had the acts you'd expect to see in a circus. Trapeze artists and acrobats who flew through the air with practiced ease. Trained animals that performed together to delight the crowd. Basketball players who showed off both their own acrobatic and athletic skills with various ball tricks.

But unlike most circuses, Cirque du Bizarre leaned into the dark and creepy aesthetic typically only found in shady carnivals and sideshow attractions. This allowed it to have other acts, the kind of acts one would expect to find at a freakshow decades ago. The kind that had slowly been fading out as the years passed and people moved past the shock and fear of the strange and unusual.

There was the man who could eat anything and would eat random things from the audience. There was the contortionist couple who could create any shape the audience could call out, including some animals. The magician would call out a few different audience members and use them for little tricks, before moving onto his final trick. This trick usually involved escaping from some deadly trap or doing something just as dangerous with his assistant.

The snake wrangler and his assistants would bring out the most dangerous, venomous snakes and show off their skill at handling them without being bitten. And if he was bitten, well, that only added to the show, after all. The snake dancer would come out next, with her long python, and give a few dances, at times scaring the audience when the snake tried to wrap around her completely. Sometimes she’d pull one or two people from the crowd and let them hold and dance with the snake. In between acts, dancers and acrobats would come out and dance and do tricks to keep the crowd pumped and keep the energy up. And last but not least to finish the show, was the psychic.

Said psychic was sitting in front of her mirror, which she couldn't use, as she adjusted her wig. It was something one of the other performers had made for her when she first arrived. It was made of synthetic red hair, with two wide bangs that hung past her face and down to her chest. The two large buns on either side of her head were made from two large Styrofoam balls that had the hair wrapped around them, hiding them completely from view. Draped over the hair was an intricate headpiece that was draped around the buns and over the top, with two pieces that hung down alongside the bangs. The whole thing was covered in jewels, some of which were large enough to hang, and hanging down onto her forehead was a crescent moon pendant. It was a bit heavy, even with the foam balls, but it was a weight she'd gotten used to over the years. Besides, it didn't compare to the pain she already felt on a daily basis, surrounded by people at all times.

Once she was sure the wig was in place, as sure as she could be without seeing it for herself, she moved onto her makeup. In the beginning, when she’d first started her act, she'd had to have help with it. Now though, after years of practicing, she could do it herself flawlessly. At least, she could so long as no one moved or changed her makeup around. But she would know if anyone had as soon as she touched anything so the risk of that was low. Her fellow performers and the crew knew not to do it, and they went out of their way to make sure any new people knew it, too.

She expertly applied her makeup, starting with a smooth, pale foundation. Then she moved onto her eyebrows. She kept them shaved, just like her head, so all she had to do was draw them on to match the wig. She drew on the double wings that rose past her eyebrows with face paint and then used eyeliner to do a thick wing on top of that. Black lipstick went on her top lip, which she then partially smudged onto the bottom before drawing a thick line down the middle of it. And to complete the look, she drew a series of thin lines that curved all over her face to create a pattern.

After spraying on a generous amount of setting spray, she stood up from the vanity. She'd gotten dressed before she started but she checked and adjusted everything again just the same. Her black peasant style shirt was cut short and left her belly bare and had a corset opening over the chest that was tied just loose enough to show a bit of her small chest. It had no sleeves, instead it had thick straps that were designed to hang off her shoulders instead of sitting on them properly. Her black skirt was thick with several layers, some of which were tied up to show the layers underneath and give the skirt more movement when she moved. Hey body was covered in jewelry that matched the headpiece in her wig. Draped around her bare waist were chains, decorated with jewels. On her wrists and ankles laid dozens of chains, jewels, and bangles. And around her neck were more chains and jewels. All of it was an amalgamation of red, gold, and black.

After fussing with her clothes and jewelry for a minute, she took a deep breath to settle herself. She could hear the announcer over the quiet talk filling the dressing room and she knew it was almost her turn. Around her, her fellow performers were either getting ready for their own acts or getting unready after their acts were done. It was calming, in a way, because everyone was focused on themselves and wasn’t paying her any attention. She couldn't stop their thoughts from getting into her mind, but it wasn't overwhelming. Instead, it was familiar to her, part of the routine she'd fallen into over the years. She stood there, just enjoying the relative peace she found in that moment, and everyone around her just let her be. It gave her the chance to prepare, brace herself, for what was to come. Whether it would help or not, she wouldn't find out until she stepped outside.

Her moment was cut short when one of the crew, Miller, a young man who'd only been with them for a year, called for her. “Basilina? It’s almost your cue.”

She turned her head towards him, and his thoughts instantly hit her. She barely held back her flinch before she responded, "I'm coming." She needlessly checked her wig and clothes again, giving herself another moment to adjust to the sudden burst of pain his thoughts had caused. Once it had settled down to the usual pounding in the back of her head, she took one last deep breath. Then, as prepared as she could be, she moved towards him. She confidently stepped around the other performers and crew, pinpointing their exact locations with ease. She reached Miller's side and heard the shift of fabric as he raised his hand to her. Almost immediately he dropped it, and she knew he was making a face. Even after several months, he was still adjusting to the fact that Basilina didn't like touch and didn't need help getting around.

Despite the pain she knew it would cause, she reached out and gently touched his arm. Instantly she was slammed with more of his thoughts, his most memories, and despite her knowing it was coming, it still made her want to yell. Instead, she put on a smile and said, "Thank you," before lowering her hand. She stepped past him outside of the tent they used as a dressing room and let out her grimace, clenching her eyes shut for a few seconds before he stepped up beside her. Her eyes snapped open then and she put the smile back on. He waited for her nod and after he had it, he cleared his throat and started walking in front of her. She followed behind, biting her tongue at how slow they were going. She knew it was because he was trying to make it easy on her, but it felt more like a pity than truly trying to be helpful. She didn't need help walking, she just needed to know where she was going, since it was their first night in that town and she hadn't had time to learn the route fully.

Those thoughts were soon pushed away as they got closer to the main tent. The announcer's voice over the intercom and the crowd's cheering were overwhelming on her sensitive ears, making them pound along with the rest of her head. But not only that, with so many people, all of them excited, their thoughts slammed into her mind and there was no keeping them out. It was a struggle to stay upright and keep walking when she suddenly felt dizzy, but she managed it and finished the trek to the performer's entrance set in the back of the tent. She stopped several feet from it, waiting for the act before her to finish. As she waited, Miller stepped away from her side and returned a few seconds later. She could hear him holding something out to her and she held in a sigh. The hooded robe she usually wore for her entrance, the robe that only held traces of herself so that she could wear it painlessly, had gotten damaged during travel, so she was having to borrow someone else's. She held her hands out for it, and he passed it to her.

She wanted to drop it right away, but she made herself hold onto it. Images burst through her mind with the pain and her fingers gripped the robe hard, so hard they trembled, as she pulled it to her chest. She hurriedly slipped it on over her shoulders and pulled the hood up. The pain and images got worse with so much of it touching her skin, but the hood gave her a way to hide her face as she adjusted it. Which was good because she needed a moment to grit her teeth and grimace, breathing through her nose until the images passed and the pain eased.

When she raised her head, the act before her was running through the entrance past her and the announcer was welcoming her as the next act. “And now, last but certainly not least in our bizarrely exciting show. Have any of you wanted to talk to a lost loved one? Wanted to make sure they were okay, wherever they are?”

Listening to the announcer continue introducing her, she straightened up, pulled the robe closed around her, and watched through the open doorway as the crew quickly and efficiently reset the center ring for her. Her act was simple, she didn't need anything to actually do what she did, but for the aesthetic of the creepy psychic she had a little stage. She'd never cared what it looked like, partly because she couldn't see it anyway but also because she just didn't care. But she'd had it described to her the first time it was set up, and again any time changes were made, so she knew what it looked like.

The stage itself was only a few inches tall, a perfect circle that was six feet in diameter. It had a deep red, thick tablecloth spread over it. In the middle sat an old gothic chair that had a tall, cushioned back and a cushioned seat, made of black wood and dark blue fabric. Next to it was an end table made in the same style with the same wood, upon which rested an old, heavy tome. Alongside it were other little knickknacks her fellow performers and crew had added. A variety of dried out bones from various small animals, though one looked suspiciously like a finger bone. There were several dead flowers scattered around the table and the stage. Also scattered around were candles, burned down to various lengths. Some were lit and some weren't, but that was more for the look than for the little light they gave off. The candlelight wasn't needed, since there were floor lights illuminating the stage. It was all set up to lean into her act as the eerily beautiful psychic.

She heard the overhead lights click off and there were startled gasps from the crowd as the tent was plunged into darkness. The haunting music that set the scene for her act came on over the speakers and a second later the floor lights clicked on. The crowd went silent, and she felt the excitement, curiosity, and fear coming from it increase. Then, the announcer, speaking much softer and deeper than he had been before, began her entrance and that was her cue. “Please, hold your applause and your breath for Moira the Mystical, the mysterious beauty who sees more than meets the eyes.”

She lowered her head again to shroud her face and she stepped through the entrance. The robe was shorter than her usual one, which trailed behind her as she walked, but it reached the floor and did the job of keeping her completely covered just the same. Not even her bare feet showed.

With each step, the assault on her, both mental and physical, got worse, and she was once again grateful that she could play off her slow walk as part of her act. In reality, it was her giving herself time to adjust, and with her head down and the hood shielding her, she was able to flinch and wince freely. She and the announcer had mastered this entrance over the years, timed it perfectly so that by the time she reached the stage, his voice was trailing off. She stepped onto the stage and stood in front of the chair, where she froze in place. With her entrance finished, the music slowly died down, and then, the whole tent was plunged into silence.

She counted down the seconds in her head, another thing she could do perfectly with no effort, and slowly raised her head on the thirtieth one. The crowd gasped, a few excitable people squealed and shouted but were immediately shushed. She felt the heat from the floor lights hit her face as she calmly turned her head from side to side. She knew her eyes were eerie, she'd had them described to her many times in her life in less than friendly words, but for this, they were perfect. The light caught the cloudiness just right and almost made them shine, as if they were otherworldly and not a physical defect. It wasn't advertised that she was blind, as agreed upon with the manager, and it was left up to the audience to make up their own minds on it. But despite being blind, her ability let her focus on individual people, and she knew how to look as if she were actually looking at them.

As she "looked" over the crowd, one person's thoughts caught her attention. It was a woman who, judging by the glimpses of her thoughts Basilina was catching, had recently lost someone. She was the perfect target to open the act. Tilting her head, she raised her arm, slipping it out from the folds of the robe, to point at the woman. When she spoke, her voice was heard clearly in the stillness. "You lost someone. Not long ago."

She couldn't see the woman, but she heard her and others in the crowd gasping. Then the woman stuttered, "Yeah. I did. My best friend."

Basilina tilted her head the other way, keeping her face calm as she focused on the woman. She couldn't get much more without actually touching her, but her grief was so fresh in her mind that it was strong enough for her to pick up on it. She got flashes of the woman's best friend, images of them together, and then her name. "Your name is Emily."

It took the woman a moment to respond with a shaky, "Yes."

"She told me. Rebecca, she told me." The whole crowd was holding its breath now, waiting for something.

They didn't have to wait long because Emily's shock turned into disbelief. Her voice shaking harder, she asked, "She's here?"

Basilina straightened her head and nodded, lowering her arm. "She is. She has words for you, if you would hear them." She didn't need to see to know Emily was nodding through her tears, she could hear the shaking of her earrings and sense her eager acquiescence. "She wants you to know she's okay. She doesn't want you to worry. She'll be with you, always, and she's waiting for you." She paused and put on a small smile. "She says not to hurry though. She doesn't want to see you anytime soon." That got a laugh out of Emily before she broke down completely. Basilina could hear someone beside her comforting her, and it made moving on easier. She didn't like lying to people like this, didn't like using them in such a way. It was harder when she accidentally picked someone who was by themselves, who didn't have anyone to comfort or calm them after she shook them up.

With the introduction to her act officially done, she lowered the hood before she slipped the robe off. It pooled around her feet, and she delicately stepped away from it. The chair really was just for show, she never touched it during her act. She didn't need what was left behind on it from everyone who had handled it on top of what she was handling from the crowd. She stepped to the edge of the stage and struggled not to flinch when some thoughts turned from curious to chilling. That was the only real problem she had with her outfit, she didn't like getting thoughts and images of how much skin she was showing shoved into her head. She stalled, playing it off as scanning the crowd again, and gave herself time to shove those thoughts aside and focus on others.

That wasn't hard, because now that she had proven herself, there were many in the crowd who were thinking of their lost loved ones. Some wanted her to pick them, wanted the chance to talk to the one they'd lost, while others wanted nothing to do with it. She ignored them, she wanted her act to be good and trying to convince someone who wanted nothing to do with her would just waste time and energy. She randomly picked another person from the crowd, an older man this time, but unlike with Emily she invited him down to the stage with her. She held her hand out to him invitingly and he was eager to take it. She pushed back her instinctive urge to rip her hand away as his mind sledgehammered into hers. She bent her head over their hand, playing off her pained expression as if she were just deep in thought.

It was easy for her to get everything she needed from him. The person he was thinking was in the forefront of his mind. She raised her head after almost a minute of reading him and the smile she gave him was genuine. His memories were good and despite the pain it was causing her, seeing them made her happy. She patted his hand with her free one and said, "Peter told me all about you, Ralph. He said you're a good man."

Still smiling, Ralph burst into tears. "Tell him I love him, please, I haven't stopped loving him since I lost him." He blubbered as he talked, but she understood all the same.

Her smile growing, she nodded confidently. "He knows, he knows, and he loves you, too. He loves you so much, he wants you to be happy. He doesn't want you to be alone."

Ralph pulled back, looking uncertain. "But. I couldn't. I couldn't do that to him."

Shaking her head, Basilina replied, "He said it wouldn't be betraying him. He wants you to be happy and loved, until you can be together again. Which, he says, had better not be soon. He says you've still got several years of love to give before you join him."

A fresh flood of tears spilled from Ralph's eyes, and he nodded weakly, thanking her through his tears. He thanked her and patted her hand several times before he let her go and returned to his seat. Once he was seated, she returned her attention to the crowd, once again stalling for time as she scanned them. At this point, she could hear some people calling out to her, begging for a chance to talk to their dearly departed, and she made a show of looking them up and down. In reality, she was gauging how much she could get from them without touching them. If she could get a lot from that distance, then she knew she'd get more once they were closer, and then even more when she touched them. She was just raising her hand to her next target when she caught the thoughts of someone she'd never thought she'd see again.

Frozen in place with her sudden fear, she couldn't move as she worked through the thoughts overwhelming her.

This is where she's been this whole time? Scamming people out of their money with this nonsense.

Look at what she's wearing, is she whoring herself out after the show is over?

At least she's not going by her real name, none of this can be traced to us and once we get her home, we can pretend none of this happened.

It took over a minute for Basilina to break free from the thoughts and the fear suddenly overwhelming her. It took so long that she could hear the crowd murmuring and whispering, their excitement fading slightly. The concern from her fellow performers and the crew behind her was pressing in on her. She shook her head slightly and put on a forced smile. She swept both hands out to her sides, bowed as low as she could with the wig, and offered an apology. "I'm so sorry. I felt something unexpected just now, someone whose grief is so strong and their loved one so close, it took me by surprise." The crowd's excitement returned, this time fueled by an even greater curiosity. Ignoring the urge to run, she randomly pointed to someone in the back row.

She did the rest of her act in a daze, just barely making it acceptable. She could tell her friends were worried about her, could feel their worry adding to her own thoughts that were, for once, threatening to drown her. When she finally finished her act and pulled the robe back on, after the seventh person, she couldn't wait any longer. Abandoning her usual exit, she hurried from the stage and to the flap in the tent she'd entered from. She stumbled through it and ripped off the robe, ignoring the people crowding her. They were all talking at once, their voices jumbled up in her ears, and a few of them tried to touch her. She clumsily pushed through them, shoved away the hands reaching for her. Each touch sent shockwaves through her, wringing gasps of pain from her, and when she made it through the small crowd gathering around her, she started running.

She heard shouts behind her, but she ignored them. Running wasn't as safe as walking, as she had less time to anticipate where people were, but she didn't care. She had to run, had to get away. She had no idea where her parents were, but if she'd heard their thoughts, that meant they were close. She couldn't tell how close without focusing on them, but any close was too close for her. She ran all the way through the various tents and rooms set up for the performers and crew, bumping into objects and people on the way. The touches were light enough that the glimpses she got from them didn't slow her down. She threw apologies over her shoulders and didn't stop until she finally couldn’t feel anything but grass under her feet and the wind on her bare skin. Those things were her signs that she’d made it to the field behind the tents, out into the open.

She stumbled to a stop, then collapsed to the ground. Panting, she doubled over and hung her head, almost to the point of touching the grass with her forehead. She couldn't hear or feel her parents anymore, only the crowd that had already mostly forgotten about her and her concerned friends she'd run away from. But she knew they were there, and she knew they wouldn't leave without at least seeing her, if not dragging her away physically. For all she knew, they might have even gotten a lawyer involved. She'd run from the facility as soon as she'd turned eighteen, hadn't given them the chance to get legal control over her, but she knew how it was for disabled people. It would be all too easy, with their money, to get a good lawyer and get a judge to sign off that she couldn't take care of herself. She couldn't let that happen, or she'd lose control of what little freedom she had, the life she'd made for herself despite over the years.

These thoughts all bounced around in her head so fast that she couldn't focus on any single one. She was spiraling, panicking, she knew she was, but she didn't know how to stop it. She choked back a sob as despair and desperation took over.

She jumped when a hand suddenly touched her shoulder. She fell backwards onto her butt and frantically scooted away. Her first thought was that they'd found her, and she needed to run again, but before she could get her feet under her, the owner of the hand spoke.

“I'm sorry, I should have warned you."

She stopped, lifted her head towards the voice, and waited for the inevitable onslaught of thoughts to hit her. When that didn't happen, she forgot completely about her parents. After a moment where still nothing happened, she hesitantly asked, "Who are you?" She could feel that someone was there, someone she didn't know, but that was it. No thoughts, no memories, no images. She got nothing from the stranger, and it was disorienting, and surprising, but also amazing and peaceful.

"My name is Marvin." She heard footsteps, felt the stranger move closer until he was right in front of her. Part of her was frightened by the lack of feeling from him, it made it impossible for her to know if he was dangerous or not. But that part was small compared to the rest of her that was relishing the new experience of feeling someone without being bombarded by everything in their mind. She heard a shift of fabric and felt the air move in front of her. She assumed he was offering his hand to her, but she didn't move to take it. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm not here to harm you."

"Who are you?" She repeated, before she blurted out the question that was really on her mind. "Why can't I hear your thoughts?" Only too late did she realize she'd just revealed what she could do. Her eyes went wide, and she gasped. Her mind went overdrive trying to think of an excuse, an explanation, a way to take back what she said. Her mind was moving faster than her mouth could keep up with and she ended up stammering unintelligibly before he stopped her.

"Hey, it's okay, I know. I saw your act." His words were less than reassuring and did nothing to calm her down. Marvin could clearly see, and sense, that she was still on the verge of a panic attack, if not a total mental breakdown. Sighing, he lowered his hand and simultaneously lowered the shield he'd erected in his mind. He didn't know what else to do to quickly prove to her that she was safe and could trust him. They didn’t have time for anything else.

Basilina flinched when she first felt his thoughts enter her mind, but as she let them wash over her, she couldn't help but be comforted. People could lie with their words, but their thoughts were always true. She got glimpses of an older man, with a kind smile, warm eyes, and long white hair. He looked welcoming and nonthreatening. And like he said, he only wanted to help her. She couldn't see more, not even when she tried, but what she did see was enough. She forced herself to breathe slowly, taking long, deep breaths, and as she did so, her heart slowly settled as well. After two minutes of this, she felt calm enough to speak again. "If you're not here to harm me, why are you here?"

"To help you." His answer was simple and sincere, both in his voice and his mind. "I heard about you and your act, and curiosity got the better of me. So, I tracked you down to see for myself. I have to say, I was thoroughly impressed."

Basilina couldn't help but smile, genuinely. She was always happy to hear praise for her act, fake though it was. If people were impressed by it, that meant her performance was convincing. "Thank you. I've gotten good at it over the years."

"But it hurts you." His response wiped the smile from her face.

She turned her head away from him and shrugged. "It's just the way things are. I can’t live without being in pain. I'm used to it now."

"You don't have to be." As soon as he spoke, he could read her disbelief, before she herself could even react.

She whipped her head back to him, her face shocked. "What?"

"There's a way for you to not be in pain." As he spoke, she got an image of a giant house, almost a mansion.

She shook her head, instantly rejecting whatever he was suggesting. "There's no way, other than becoming a hermit for the rest of my life." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "Wait. How did you do that? The mind thingy? I couldn't feel you at first, but then I did."

"I can shield my mind from others, so they can't read my thoughts." To prove his point, he shielded his mind again so that she got nothing from him again.

Basilina gasped. "That's possible?" She couldn't keep the hope from her voice. She'd never met anyone who could do that, but most people also didn't know inhuman abilities like that existed.

"For some, yes. Not everyone. For me, it's something I do without thinking, for my own protection." Something he was doing right then, because he didn’t want her to see more about him than she should. She just needed to know he could be trusted and that he wanted to take her somewhere safe.

"And there are others like you?" She was hesitant to ask, but the mansion he’d shown her was still in her mind and she couldn't imagine that no one lived in such a big place.

"Yes. I know many, a few of them live in the place I want to take you." He opened his mind to show her the mansion again, this time focusing on the inside, specifically the ballroom once he saw the reaction she had to it in her mind. She really liked it, apparently.

"The mansion I keep seeing in your thoughts, right?" She heard him nod, felt his approval flow into her mind. It weighed out the pain it brought with it. "Where is it?"

"Very far from here. It will be quite a trip." She got flashes of trains and cars before a mountain replaced everything.

Basilina wanted to jump at the chance, say yes to whatever he said. But as much as the thought of a place where she could live, with others who wouldn't cause her pain, was tempting, she didn't want to leave the life she'd made at the circus. It had been good to her over the years, gave her a chance at a new life when the rest of the world seemed against her. Her friends were there, she could even consider some of them family. But, as much as they tried to get close to her, as much as she could let them in, being around them was still painful and she couldn't ever be as close to them as she wanted. She couldn't hug any of them, couldn't touch them in any way. It was only a half-life, and as much as she'd grown to love it over the years, she knew she still wanted more. She wanted to be truly happy, not just existing and surviving the best way she could.

Even as she sorted through those thoughts, another rose up from the back of her mind. Her parents had found her. She felt fear spike through her again. Whether she went with Marvin or not, the life she had in the circus was about to be over. Either she'd have to run, again, and hope they wouldn't catch her a second time, or they'd leave her alone after she refused to go with them, but she'd live the rest of her life in fear of them. Or they'd drag her back with them and she'd be a prisoner for the rest of her life.

Running off with a stranger who promised the very thing she'd always wanted was the craziest choice, but it felt like the only one she could make. She felt like she had to take a chance. So, with that decision made, she nodded. "I'll go with you."

She could feel the smile in Marvin's mind, and hear it in his voice, as he said, "I'm glad. We can leave right away, as soon as you're ready." She saw it in his thoughts before he offered his hand to her again. She took it this time, tensed for that burst of pain and thoughts that always came with touching someone. To her surprise and relief, that didn't happen. She let out a disbelieving laugh and let him pull her upright. She was reluctant to release his hand, only just then realizing how touch starved she was, but she pulled her hand back anyway. She awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest, tucking her hands under her arms, and shuffled her feet through the dirt.

She didn't know what to do now. Did she need to get her stuff? Did she have time before her parents found her? She definitely needed to let the manager and her friends know. She also needed to come up with a reasonable explanation for why she was running off with some strange man. Even as she was racing through those thoughts, she could see in Marvin's thoughts that he was already ahead of her.

Joining what she saw in his mind, he explained what he had planned out. "If you don't mind, I've already got everything planned out. All you have to do is listen to me for now. We're going to go find your manager, we're going to let him know your parents are here. We don't have to tell him the details, just tell him that they're going to try to force you to leave. Explain that I'm an old family friend you've kept in contact with, I heard about your parents finding you and came to get you. I'm going to take you somewhere else and help you hide from them, help you start a new life. Then, we'll gather your things, you can say your goodbyes, and we'll be off. Easy enough, right?"

“You think it’ll be that easy?” Basilina blindly looked up at him, shocked as he nodded confidently. "How long have you been planning this?" She asked incredulously.

He chuckled. "Not long, but this is what I'm good at. You've got nothing to worry about." He deliberately didn’t mention the extra work he’d need to do to make it all run smoothly, but she didn’t need to know about that. He was just smoothing out the process and cutting out any unnecessary setbacks. They didn’t have much time after all.

Basilina felt like she was on the edge of the cliff, ready to just jump, but she had one more question before she did. "Where are you taking me?"

He smiled and his voice was warm when he replied, "Nightshade Manor. My friend’s home, where she looks after people like you."

She swallowed nervously. That sounded right, based on the images she'd gotten from his mind. She hesitated another moment before setting her mind to her decision. She straightened up, feigning confidence she didn't feel, and nodded. "Alright. I trust you." She blew out her breath, squared her shoulders, and turned back towards the mass of tents. "Let's get this over with." She started walking towards them. A couple seconds later, she felt and heard him following after her. His presence in her mind was comforting and gave her the strength she would need, that she didn't have on her own, to do what she was about to do. To change her life for the better.

Please feel free to point out any typos, mistakes, or inconsistencies! I don't have a beta reader and I usually miss stuff when I'm proofreading and editing. Thanks!

[moonlitcaster]

I posted 127 times in 2022

That's 55 more posts than 2021!

96 posts created (76%)

31 posts reblogged (24%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pokefusion-workshop

@mak-to-the-future

@the-not-witch-time-forgot

@sannartsies

@cow-legs

I tagged 109 of my posts in 2022

Only 14% of my posts had no tags

#emoticaster - 57 posts

#digital art - 53 posts

#art - 45 posts

#clip studio paint - 45 posts

#oc - 35 posts

#artists on tumblr - 32 posts

#drawing - 30 posts

#sketchy - 21 posts

#off topic fool - 19 posts

#reblog - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 91 characters

#i made it to be an ask blog but now i just post art on it and pray people on tumblr find it

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

BOOYAH!!

HIII!!! HIHIHIHI!! I’ve been fixating on splatoon hardcore since we got it and I really wanna make OCs for it! I’ve watched YT videos about splatoon and we technically had splatoon 2 but I never got past the tutorial DFLKJDFSLKFDS.

Anyway, take my attempt on this pastel-goth inspired Inkling! Might be my version of Agent four who moved to the splatlands? Don’t know! I really like the double bun hairstyle though in the game.

V Timelapse below! V

15 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

#4

See the full post

17 notes - Posted October 19, 2022

#3

So splatoon 3, huh?

18 notes - Posted September 30, 2022

#2

Hello Hylics fandom

20 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

          Another Inkling design! I had fallen in love with the concept of an inkling with a genetic condition that allowed their tentacles to be different colors. I made a mistake drawing their hair, and realized they had much more than the standard amount of tentacles. I decided that it would be a feature rather than a mistake!

          Perhaps it’s something that, while not actually associated with the ink color mutation, can commonly develop right alongside it? Don’t know! She has trouble keeping a single color when playing turf war, and doesn’t like being stared at in the open. She understands the reason, being taller and literally more colorful. But it’s about that ‘I don’t want to be perceived’ feeling, y’know?

21 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[gaiuswrites]

Thread the Needle | Yoga!Din

Pairing: Modern!Din x Yoga Instructor!Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors, goodbye)

Word count: 3.5k~

Warnings/tags: Yoga!Din (yes, he gets his own warning), hurt/comfort, language, smut, good ol' fashioned cunnilingus, piv

Notes: ✨ HI FRIENDS ✨ Yoga!Din rides again. This idea has been stewing (pun intended, you'll get it later) in my dumb brain for a while now and I've finally decided to write it. Technically, this takes place a little farther into the future (perhaps when the pair is more of an item, and less of a fuckbuddy fling, but thorough plot? We don’t know her). Anyways, enjoy! Cheers x

He doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but it’s the most agonizing sixty minutes of his goddamn life.

He’s seated on his mat, legs folded into a fucking pretzel—lotus pose, a calm voice inside his head corrects—and he’s steaming.

She isn’t here.

He is—Din, for all his faults, showed the fuck up to class but she didn’t, and in her place there’s some smelly old bat, this woman’s wrinkly ass – sits bones – plunked down at the front of the studio— occupying her spot, where she should be.

His eyes stalk the movements of this other woman as she putters around the studio—the godawful stench of something earthy wafting behind her— and it looks wrong. It feels wrong; like a violation somehow—of the space.

Of their space.

“The light in me recognizes the light in you,” they all utter in unison like a fucking hippie cult, and he books it out of there, swiping his mat up with an aggressive slap and rolling it under his arm.

“Hey,” he calls out, pacing towards the front desk. The receptionist— Riley? Kylie? Din can never remember—glances up from her phone, bright eyed.

Poor thing.

“Who the fuck is that?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the studio, the gaggle of ladies trickling out of it already gossiping and clucking away. Din doesn’t mean to sound accusatory; he doesn’t mean to be this intense. It’s not this girl’s fault, he knows that— but she’s in proximity and she’s shit out of luck.

“M’sorry?” she sputters, blinking up at him.

Breathe, that same voice coos—he can feel the tickle of it behind his ear.

“Our usual Wednesday instructor,” Din begins again, clipped. “Where is she?”

“Oh," she shrugs, "she called in sick.”

With a furrowed brow he pitches forward, craning over the desk. “Is she okay?”

The girl— Miley? —all but flinches back from him, a quizzical expression wormed onto her. “Uhm, yeah she has the flu—nasty one, too, but she’ll probably be back by ne-"

Din doesn’t linger long enough for her to finish. He’s wheeled around, striding from the building, the tinny chime of the bell ringing out as the door creaks closed behind him. The women exchange waggling glances in his wake, tittering in mouthwatering delight—more juicy fodder for their post-yoga soiree.

///

He doesn’t remember driving there. He made a quick stop to the grocery store— their grocery store, now— to pick up what he needed and before he knows it, he’s at her front door, bringing his fist down upon it in hard raps.

He hears movement—can sense it there, can practically imagine it: her lithe body tip toeing over— no, she’s got the flu, maybe it’s more of a shuffle—and peeking through the peephole. There’s a weighty pause and then—

The slow, dubious clicks of unbolting locks, the turning of a handle, the yawn of the wood as it opens.

Her voice is made small with disbelief and exhaustion. “Din?”

“Can I come in?”

She cracks the door ajar, standing in the frame of it now, a thick blue comforter slung over an arm, and she can’t quite mask the stupefied look etched onto her face.

He’s never done this. She’s never done this. He’s been to her place twice—three times, if he counts them fucking in the car in her driveway—and he’s certainly never showed up unannounced.

“Uhm, I-”

“Great.”

Din pushes past her, plastic bag swinging heavy at his side.

“W-What?”

She’s left gaping, mouth and eyes opened incredulously, ogling the way he struts through her entryway, before finally having the wherewithal to close the door. “Hey, what are you-”

“You need to keep your fluids up,” he says roughly—as if it’s obvious—making a beeline towards the kitchen.

She follows after him, bunching the throw snuggly around her shoulders. “Din,” she utters feebly, “I really don’t think you should be here right now.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Please, I don’t wanna get you sick."

He thunks the bag onto the granite countertop, producing two cans.

She doesn’t know why she bothers, it’s not like he’s listening to her anyways. If she’s learned anything about Din Djarin, it’s that he’s nothing if not stubborn—impossibly immovable. He’s tossed his jacket off, slinging it over the island, a determined glint in his eye as he prowls around the kitchen, opening cupboards at random.

“Seriously, I don’t want you catching this. I feel like shit… Oh my god, I look like shit,” she groans in realization, burying her head in the blanket, hermitting herself away.

“You look fine,” he replies gruffly, delving through the drawers in search of a can opener.

Frumpy sweats and a baggy t-shirt with some faded logo on it that’s absolutely hanging off her. Hair tossed up and sloppy, coiled into a loose bun, errant pieces rebelling every which way. A little pale, maybe. Tired eyes. Messy.

Beautiful, he meant. She looks fucking irritatingly beautiful.

Din continues to rifle through her cabinets and he exhales in frustration, “Jesus, where do you keep your pans?”

“Bottom right,” she points begrudgingly.

He grunts, finding one big enough and sets it down on the stove.

She can’t stop fussing over him; making comments here and there, asking if he wants anything, needs anything—water, kombucha, tea, a beer, a snack—if she can help in any way possible—and it nearly sends him over the damn edge.

“Would you quit it and just let me take care of you?” he grits out, and her mouth clamps shut with a pop.

She’s quiet after that, picking anxiously at a thread poking out from the blanket she wears like a shawl—observing as he empties the cans into a large pot, lights the gas stove, and brings it to a boil. She gives him space, stationing herself by the kitchen table, leaning a hip into one of the four chairs there.

Honestly she does try to keep to herself; she tries to accept what Din is doing for her, but she can’t help it. As soon as she sees him ladling the soup into one of her favorite cups—it looks so tiny in his grasp— and bringing it over to her like a goddamn patron saint, she breaks.

“You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah well, you need to get healthy so you can take your class back from that fucking fossil.”

“Din,” she admonishes.

“Baby,” he gives her a pointed look and she gnaws at the inside of her cheek, a blush blotting her clavicle. “She fucking smells. Now sit your pretty little ass down-”

“But-”

He presses a hand to her shoulder, forcing her to sink into the chair with a soft oomf, and places the bowl in front of her. “Don’t fight me on this. Drink the fucking soup.”

She huffs, glancing down, and then back up to Din.

“Progresso?”

He grunts.

She blows at the steam rising from the hot liquid. “Chicken noodle?”

Din crosses his arms over his chest and plops back onto the island.

“Classic,” she praises, mumbling into it.

She loathes to admit it, but the first sip tastes like heaven. It soothes her raw vocal chords, worn hoarse from nights of coughing, and seeps deep to warm her cold bones.

Din remains mute through the whole affair, staring owlishly as she spoons it down, slurp for slurp, until he’s satisfied she’s finished. When she does, she arches an eye brow at him— mouth pressing into a thin line. Happy now?

He tips his head and pads over to her.

“Wait, no you don’t have to-" He swipes it from the table, the spoon clanking against the ceramic rim. Din moves to the sink and she groans.

“Just leave it,” she whines, but he ignores her—stubborn stubborn stubborn— he’s already got soap on the sponge and the water running. Again, she huffs and rises to her feet, hem of the blanket trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” she gives in a hushed tone.

It’s so strange— being taken care of in her own place. She doesn’t know what to do, where to go. It’s ill-fitting, foreign, and she can only hover there, buzzing like a pesky insect beside him.

He’s wiping the dish off with a towel when he chances a peek back at her, practically stuttering when he does.

She’s swaddled in that fucking quilt, awkward and impossibly sincere and precious just standing there—watching him play house in her home. A brush of color has sprung up on her cheeks—more light in her eyes, too—and Din, try as he might, can’t pry himself off her.

She’s sick—she’s sick and gorgeous and he wants her. He wants her to feel better, he wants to fuck her, he wants to hold her. He’s overcome with it.

He swallows.

Fuck.

He abandons the bowl and rag in the drying rack and turns to her, her eyes widening, glassy and bloodshot, as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear— knuckles trailing down her jaw.

“Din…”

Her tongue skips over her lip—mocking him—damp and full and begging to be taken by his own, and her breath catches as he drags a thumb across that plump flesh, enrapt with the way her mouth parts so effortlessly for him—so fucking supple. Din’s gut twists and his blood thickens in his veins—the air between them rippling with something velvet and carnal.

He takes a step towards her. Her throat bobs.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she pouts in protest, rutting her palm into his chest, but there’s no fight in it. The blanket slips from her shoulders, hitting the ground with a dulled splat.

“Din,” she tries again, “I don’t want you to-"

He leans in, cradling her cheek, murmurs fanning over her face. “I’ll risk it.”

And he dissolves the gap, sealing her mouth with his in a tender kiss. It’s almost chaste at first, how they rove tentative and unhurried over each other—an innocent exploration— all until his tongue darts out to touch along her lip and she whimpers into him, letting Din dip into the dark cavern of her mouth. She tastes warm, like comfort and broth and rainy days, and he sighs as she brings her hands up to weave into his hair.

Neither of them fight for dominance like this—their tangle of soft sounds is perfectly balanced— Hatha; effort and ease, breath and body. He pushes, she relents—she surges forward, Din bends. They dance like this, slow as tar, until she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

He seethes, inhaling sharply as his hands slide possessive and greedy down her body, grabbing fistfuls of her waist hidden under all the oversized layers, and crushing her into him. She’s making these airy noises, panting and urgent and fuck if it doesn’t tear him apart—viscerally, from the inside out.

Din walks her backwards, step for choreographed step, foxtrotting until she bumps into the kitchen table. He breaks away from the kiss to reach past her, frantically pushing away the unopened mail and receipts and loose change, the jingling of her keys cutting through the wanton quiet as they clang onto the tile, and he hitches her up to sit there with one fell swoop.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he husks, inbetween the bites he’s searing onto her neck. “Please, just lie back for me sweet girl.”

“Din, I-“

He silences her with a nibble to her ear, coaxing a breathy yelp out of her. “Lie back, baby.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. She acquiesces, Din’s wide palm splayed on her breasts, guiding her to recline back onto the table. He makes speedy work of her sweatpants, yanking them down her legs and flinging them off to land in a crumpled heap.

He sinks to his knees, pulling the cradle of her hips to the edge of the table before parting her thighs. The gloss of her cunt, wet and glistening for him, makes his hardening cock jump up to his stomach, and she twitches as soon as the cool air brushes against her.

“Fuck me,” he groans, whispering into her heat like he’s pained, like the sight alone is torturing him—like it’s slowly but surely ending his fucking life.

Din breathes her in with a sigh, that summer fruit tang— the scent of her aching and pulsing for him— and he starts tracing up and down her inner thigh with his tongue and teeth, nibbling along the path there until he’s at her apex. He’s dimpling her pliant skin with his calloused fingertips, strong hands wrapped under her knees, keeping them splayed as he kisses along her outer lips, nipping at her hip bones, teasing everywhere but where she needs him most.

It’s devastating—debilitating—and she’s shaking now. Every muscle, every fiber of her, convulsing with anticipation—with the promise of being dissected, of being torn apart and stitched back together again. She’s already got a hand covering her mouth, muffling the sobs he’s drawing out as he toys with her— playing her like a fucking fiddle.

Din’s eyes flit up to find her like this, brow pinched tight and cries stifled, and he chuckles— he fucking laughs— heady and ambered into her legs.

“You doin’ alright up there, teach?”

“F-Fuck you,” she hisses out with a weak whine.

God, she’s fucking perfect.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He smirks— she can feel the shape of it against her thigh, the way his stubble grates along her skin— and she can only mewl, speechless. Pathetic.

“Yeah, I know what you need...” Din hums, before finally - finally - taking mercy on her.

With one single drag, he tongues a broad stripe up her slit.

The noise that rips through her sounds like she’s being strangled— it gets caught in her throat like a trapped animal in hot car— a desperate little thing clawing to get out. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving nicks in the chestnut lacquer. Immediately, she cants up to him, searching for his mouth hungrily and Din all but obliges as he clasps onto her hips, keeping her still while he fucks into her.

He’s carving her out— hollowing her; burying himself in her folds, nosing against her mound. He laps her up in kitten licks, delving the muscle of his tongue in and out of her, leaving her weak and gasping. Din laves up and down and side to side in clever little swivels, before he reaches her clit and sucks.

Her fist shoots from her mouth to grip his wavy locks, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“O-Oh my god, Din - fuck - Din. Oh fuck oh fuck-"

He loves it when she gets like this; that serene and tranquil exterior— the one that can quell a studio full of strangers into a haze with only the sound of her voice, that voice he can’t get out of his fucking head, the one that got them into this mess in the first place— shattered, mutilated beyond recognition and all she has left is her need— her wild, unbridled need.

Her need for his tongue, for his fingers, for his dick. Din Din Din, she only wants him— only needs him.

He slips a finger into her, easing past his knuckle in one movement, and her chin tips back, crown of her head digging into the table, hair mussing against the wood grain.

Her nipples have pebbled through her shirt, her pretty feet arched and contorted, and she’s heaving - writhing - like this above him.

He adds another digit, pumping in and out, the squelch of her pussy sounding lewd and obscene and fucking divine as he grazes her clit with his teeth, pulling at it.

“Fuck-” she rasps, legs quivering on their own accord— instinct and reflex demanding she tremble— and Din moans into her sex, feeling her walls constrict around his fingers, and he curls them up as he thrusts, hitting against that spongy patch insider her that makes her vision go white.

“Din, I- I’m—"

She can’t manage the rest. Instead of words, she cries— high pitched and wounded, as if she’s barely making it out alive. Her legs clamp around his head, bracing him there, and she cums— she loses it for him— her slick coating his nose, his lips, the hair speckled around his chin. She soaks him, and it leaves Din rocking his hips and humping the fucking air— as randy as a teenager, ravenous for anything, even if it’s just the friction of his pants drawn tight around his erection.

He takes her through her orgasm, lapping at her softly until she’s warbling—a slew of nonsense babbling out of her— and he leans back on his heels to admire his work, eyes singeing into her cunt made puffy and swollen pink, fluttering at the loss of him.

He plants one final kiss to the cleft of her pussy before shifting his weight back up to his feet, slotting himself between her.

Fuck, he isn’t as young as he once was— he feels his age in the ache of his knees. All the yoga in the world can’t erase his scar tissue, can’t undo time.

But he thinks maybe—if he’ll let himself—that she makes him feel younger. Lighter.

He squeezes her calf and begins to move away when she whimpers, bolting upright to palm greedily at the bulge pressing painfully against its constraint, her fingers fidgeting with his zipper and Din— in an uncharacteristic show of strength and self restraint— gingerly clasps onto her wrists, holding her still.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and her eyes snap up to meet his. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, but-”

“You don’t- we don’t have to-"

“Din,” she pants, grabbing onto the waist of his jeans and pressing her center into him, smearing herself along the denim there, her pearled clit catching on the rough fabric. Her eyes have gone jet-black with desire, obsidian lust burning through them. “Din, fuck me. Please fuck me, plea-“

Shit.

He’s never moved so fast in his goddamn life, unbuttoning his jeans in a flash, untucking himself— throbbing, leaking already—from his briefs. He gives himself two rough jerks, his blunt tip prodding at her entrance, before pushing into her with a gasp.

Fuck, she’s warm— not just warm, she’s hot. She’s molten, and she’s milking him for all he’s worth, gripping around him, fucking strangling his cock with how wet she is—how tight. God, she’s a fucking dream—a nightmare too, undoubtedly.

“Fuck baby - shit - you’re—hnng-” He groans—can’t even form a real sentence—all of his blood has rushed out of his brain and straight to the juncture where their bodies meet.

His eyes flutter deliriously at the feeling of her stretching around him like this and for a passing, fleeting moment, he considers the fact that he should be gentle with her— that she’s not feeling well, that she’s probably sore with body chills and God knows what else and that she should rest—

But once her knees are split apart and legs spread long— so fucking flexible, fuck she’s killing him— his well-met concern all but abandons him.

He fucks her hard— so hard she falls back, that unforgiving surface bruising into her spine. He probably hurts her a little—just how he likes, just how she loves.

Din plows into her, digging into the meat of her thighs, slamming into the pussy that takes him so fucking well, the pussy that feels like it’s made for him— like she’s made for him— and the table shudders with each roll of his hips, scraping it inch by inch along the tile, knocking against the chairs with loud, clattering bangs.

“W-Wait— wait wait wait-“ she pants, hands scampering up to his arms.

He slows his thrusts until he’s stilled inside of her, worry creasing around his eyes. “W-What? Are you okay—what’s wrong?”

“T-The table," she whines, “it’s from fucking IKEA. I built this piece of shit myself— there’s no way it’s gonna stay standing with you fucking me into it like this.”

Din barks out a laugh, throaty and genuine, and for the second time today, he comes to the conclusion that she’s perfect.

“Bedroom?” she nods down the hall.

“Bedroom,” he growls before scooping her up, lifting her off the table, her legs scrambling to hook around his waist, forearms bracing around the broad plain of his shoulders.

“Din!” she squeals in surprise, “I can walk, you know.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, giving her a bounce and a light slap to her ass. “You’re sick.”

///

“Onions,” he mutters, leaden eyelids nestled shut.

He didn’t mean to stay over this long—well past sunset, later than he’s ever allowed himself—but how could he be expected to leave? After she came on his cock - twice - and he had filled her up until his cum was gushing from her, extricating himself out of this exact position of woven, spent limbs and sweat stained sheets sounded criminal.

“What?” She cranes groggily up at him.

“The sub. She smelled like onions. And patchouli.”

“Hey,” she tuts in mock offense, “Brenda is nice.”

“Good for Brenda. Doesn’t make her smell any better.”

“God, you are so rude,” she laughs, shaking her head as she nuzzles into Din’s side, lips curving into a sleepy grin against his chest—right above the aching thump of his caged heart.

Taglist (I apologize if I missed anyone!):

@radiowallet @pedros-mustache @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamers @greatcircle79 @iamskyereads @imnotinlove-thisisnotyoursong @fan-of-encouragement @read-and-rec @helmet-comes-off @keeper0fthestars @hellabaybee @ourmotherofyearning @krissology

[whump-world]

Reunions will hurt

Prompt: Whumpees expressing their frustrations only to be shot down with “other people have it worse.” Superior angst if Whumpee internally agrees and makes a conscious effort never to speak of their problems again. (From this post X)

I know you guys expected villain whump, and quite honestly me too, but my ocs wouldn’t leave me alone! sorry if this isn’t quite what you were waiting for.

TW: implied and referenced past abuse, implied future abuse. not much except for emotional whump.

Tag list: @insaneinthepaingame @firewheeesky @vuvulia @myst-in-the-mirror

One could call it a fated coincidence. Their meeting that is.

Kiḷi was doing his Saturday morning drill. He drove by each of Sir’s factories to check on the accounts none of his thick-headed mates could understand, and finished by two o’clock in the afternoon. Which was around the time the rest of them woke up with a brain damaging headache from the previous night’s partying. No wonder Sir prefers him. That day, he stops to change a tire after the third factory, stomach rumbling for some tea and a good ol’ bun.

Kiḷi needs this done quick and calls on the lady squatting at the front of the store with her back to him. “Miss,” he starts, climbing out the of jeep. “Can I trouble you—“

Thumla’s face greets him as she looks over her shoulder. The Al-Amira around her head hides all the curls of blonde hair. She stills, hazel eyes that sink into brown in the middle flit to his ears. Sir used to make them wear trackers.

Relief trickles into her lips and lifts into a grin to see them gone. She hops to her feet, a water bottle in hand. She’s grown taller than him and casts a lean shadow over him. The scar along her left eyebrow disappears into the scarf, what used to be bright pink now a dull white. “You and your posh manners, Kiḷi. I didn’t have to turn to recognize that.”

Kiḷi stares.

“What? Got grease on my face?”

“Five years,” he rasps. Five fucking years. He narrows his eyes to keep the tears out of his eyes, though the tension in his chest couldn’t be denied. He skips past the first three questions that come to his mind. Where have you been? How are you still alive? How did you have the guts to get away from Sir? Kiḷi settles for “You look old.”

“Punk.” She shoves her hands into the pockets of her denim overalls that must be too much for this hot weather. “I look fine, some would say great—“

“You owe me an explanation,” Kiḷi says, stripping any light air in the conversation. He doesn’t feel light. He could smash a wall with all the frustration he’s holding in. This woman—who helped him join the most nefarious gang in the country, made a partner out of him, taught him how to kill and not be killed—ran. Took her things and ran with the night.

How could she?

Thumla’s observant eyes clocks his temper before it comes. She could read him as much as he could read her. That was how they used to be. Thumla places a hand on his shoulder. She doesn’t try again when he jerks back. Thumla steps back, lips hardening into a straight line. “We can talk, if you’re ready to listen. Stand down.”

He scoffs under his breath. Shakes his head and snatches the water from her. “One bun.”

They silently decide to move out of public eye, a small space between the drain and the door which leads to the back of the garage. The stench is thick, guzzling down any appetite Kiḷi has by the time Thumla comes back with food. He still takes the bun offered to him. Sewage, puke, blood. It doesn’t matter. Kiḷi’s nose is immune to all of it.

“I assumed you were still the boring person you were. Butter and bread,” she glances at the bun with a teasing look.

It took energy to be mad at her. “Shut up, okay?” Kiḷi dampens his uninvited smile, though it’s already too late. “Shut up about my food choices, and tell me why you left.”

“Why do you think I left?”

“I’m serious here,” he says.

“I am too.”

“So what happened?”

“I got a passport, a proper one, stole a few things—“

KiḷI rounds on her. “I know all that. You think I’m fucking dumb, Thumla?” His voice hitches at her cool stare. The piece of bread he choked down must have lodged in his windpipe because he couldn’t breathe.

“So what do you want to know?” she asks. Thumla grabs his collar and yanks him close. “Stop spinning words and ask the right question.”

“Why… you…” he hates her. Almost. “I thought we were friends.”

Her throat bobbles. The grip on Kiḷi’s shirt loosens. She didn’t expect that, he realizes. Big, bad Kiḷi doesn’t acknowledge feelings and friendships. Her breath is hushed, the way it was trained to be regardless of emotions, injuries, loss. “Getting soft on me.”

“I should have said it long time ago.” KiḷI looks away, taking interest in his hands. They’re tanned, with too many scars to count.

“I guess you forgot.” Thumla clears her throat. “We wouldn’t have made it. We wouldn’t have made it out if we went together. So I, I, I didn’t tell a soul. I didn’t even think about it unless I was alone—“

“I would have helped.”

She cracks her knuckles, a little sheepish, a little disbelieving. “Maybe, maybe not. At least you didn’t, you didn’t come after me. Thank you. For letting me have that chance. You did help that way. And, uh, sorry. I’m sure Sir gave you one good beating for that.”

He almost killed Kiḷi for that. He digests all those words, picking and pulling them apart. Why would she think he wouldn’t have helped her— he would have joined her. He tries to plaster a smile; the bubble suffocating him doesn’t let it stay. “I would have helped,” he repeats weakly. “I don’t like being with the gang. Sir— he— he hurt me too. He still does.”

Thumla shrugs, but the casual gesture is loaded with wet envy. Her glance strays to his clean, more-than-what-he-can-afford jacket, then back up. “Okay.”

“He did,” he insists, hunching into himself. The judgement prickles, like a thorn under his skin. Kiḷi couldn’t understand why he needs to convince her. Frustration crushes him in its fist. Thumla used to care about what he said.

“You weren’t his protege back then. I was. You took my place when I couldn’t take more.”

Kiḷi glares. “And you’re going to put that on me?”

“My point is”—she rubs her forehead—“your work was simpler. Follow orders, reap rewards. You don’t, then you take the punishment.”

“Look who’s spinning words now. You think I had it easy.”

She ignores him entirely. “I’m not here to argue with you. You asked why, and there’s the reason. I’m here for a day and talking to you is cutting it close.”

“I’ll be on my way then. I wouldn’t want to ruin your free life by imposing my luxuries on you.” Kiḷi isn’t certain what he’s saying makes sense, but he’s scowling hard enough to make up for it. There’s a roar in his ears as he stalks out of that narrow space and back to his jeep. He could change tyres elsewhere.

Thumla follows him to the front, calling him back with a shaky laugh. “Hey, come on. Don’t be mad—“

“I’m not.” He climbs into the front seat, tossing her a final look. Resting one hand on the steering wheel, he starts the vehicle, letting its growl swallow what Thumla says next. He couldn’t care less.

The answer to the question he’s been toying with for years came as a slap to the face, delivered by none other than Thumla. The usual anger he’s felt ever since she left withers, spitted on and stamped down by humiliation. That’s what the roar in his ears is. Hot, searing humiliation. Kiḷi’s face crumbles and he only manages a short “I’m running late” before he steps on the gas.

He drives away, keeping his eyes peeled for another tyre shop. The glint of his watch fixes a pointed stare on him. His jacket feels too soft, leather seats too comfortable. Even the last of pieces of bread in between his teeth accuses him. Food on his plate, clothes on his back; he shouldn’t complain. Kiḷi shudders. Is it so wrong to want more?

Kiḷi exhales. He wishes he never went to that stupid store.

[ Next ]

[duuhrayliegh]

Fuck Misogyny

request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs

warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky

a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

full m.list

The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.

Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.

Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.

“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.

Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.

Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.

“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.

“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.

“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.

“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.

“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.

“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”

“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.

“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”

“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.

“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.

“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.

“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.

“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.

“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.

“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.

“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.

“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.

“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.

“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.

“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.

“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.

“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.

“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.

“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.

“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.

“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.

“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.

“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.

“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”

“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.

“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.

“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.

“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.

“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.

“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.

“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.

“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.

“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.

“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.

“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.

“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.

“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.

“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.

“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”

“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”

“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.

“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.

“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.

“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.

“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.

“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.

He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.

[talkfantasytome]

I beg for a part two for the Elucien secret dating AU😩

Of course, nonnie! <3

Kinda loving this little AU. And I have no shame on any of my head canons about the characters I portray here. 😇

Author's Notes at the end, including a Ted Talk that's probably not needed with y'all, but I couldn't not post it.

Feel free to send me requests/prompts for this AU/story! And let me know if you want to be tagged to future updates! (Which will likely be based on asks I receive for it...)

Part 1 | Read on AO3

Word Count: 3,176

Semi-NSFW

TW: Implied past experience in consent not being respected. Internal monologue on a woman's right to her own sexuality.

Elain wasn't actually excited for study group.

No, absolutely not. She wasn't that much of a dork.

She certainly hadn't dressed up for it. Of course not. She hadn't spent most of her morning doing up her hair and working on her make-up for her lazy Saturday afternoon study group. And it definitely didn't take over an hour finding the perfect outfit that was both extremely flattering on her while also allowing her to look comfortable and casual.

Nope, it was a quick decision for her to pick out the pale pink sweater and grey with pink hints plaid flare skirt combo.

Depending on one's definition of quick, that is.

It was just luck that her messy bun, with wisps of hair framing her face, turned out so perfectly. That with it, and her sweater-skirt combo, she looked so completely at ease, like she'd just fallen into this outfit.

Her over-the-knee grey suede boots padded down the pathway to the Henrik K. Fox Memorial Library - which everyone just called the den. It was slightly dark in decoration and insanely cozy, with its plethora of couches and armchairs. Plus, it was common for students at Forest City College to know way too much about foxes, including what their shelters were called.

Elain checked her thin, silver watch - she was right on time, meaning five minutes late. Not late enough to truly be late and interrupt them, but she definitely wouldn't be the first one there. No, Lucien typically arrived anywhere between ten minutes early to right on time. He'd never once shown up even a minute late, which was perfectly predictable, because she planned to watch him as she walked toward their group.

She hadn't seen Lucien since their 'study group' the week before. Excluding the intense eye-fucking session they'd had during class that left her entirely breathless.

Her body had reacted far too heavily to that.

She'd ended up rushing out of class as soon as it was over and into the bathroom to find some relief. Not exactly what she wanted, and surely not as satisfying. But she wasn't about to drag Lucien into some closet or toilet stall, not after the interruption Saturday - stupid Eris and his 'I'm ten minutes away, let's hang' - and his promise that when they did have sex, he'd take his sweet time with her.

Elain wanted that more than finding a quick release with him between her classes. For the first time, at least.

Making her way through the familiar library, confident navigating through the stacks to one of the more secret alcoves the way only a senior could be, it took no time at all to find their usual meeting spot. And she was entirely unsurprised to see the bright, red hair hanging over the plush love seat that she was approaching.

Noticing no one else had arrived yet, Elain paused and slid off her grey coat before continuing forward. She slung the coat over the empty back of the same couch, leaving her left hand on the edge as she walked her body around it a bit, crossing an ankle over the other and leaning on her hand.

"Hey there." She smiled softly at Lucien as she watched his face turn toward her and take her in, his eyes definitely lingering on the bare skin of her thighs between her boots and her mini skirt. "This seat taken?"

His eyes finally made it to hers, after a long roll up her body, and he smirked. "I sure hope it is now."

Elain's grin grew as she slid into the open seat, noticeably close to the center of the couch. "I didn't expect to beat everyone else here."

"Jurian and Vassa are on their way," Lucien sighed. "Or claim they are. Which means I most likely woke them up with my text, so they'll be a while - had a bit too much fun last night at Psi Phi."

"Of course," Elain laughed. "Did you go to the party?"

"For a bit," he nodded. "Well, for about five minutes until I realized exactly what it would be like to spend the night at a party with those two."

"Maybe you should stop forsaking your own fraternity, then," she jokingly chastised. "Could've hung out with me instead, and I'm a blast at parties."

Lucien chuckled. "I'm sure you are. But I've never really been one for official mixers. Or anything that has to do with Omega Xi."

"Good thing you're an O.Z. brother, then." She gave him a pointed look. "You seem to do enough to stay with them."

"Nothing short of getting arrested for a violent felony will get me kicked out."

"Must be nice, to be such an important legacy," Elain offered. "I know you hate it, but I wouldn't mind. I worked my butt off during recruitment to be noticed and wanted by Sigma Xi."

"I highly doubt you had to try half as hard as you did. From what I've heard, every sorority wanted you. And if any didn't, they were idiots and have figured that out by now."

Elain just shrugged, goosebumps erupting on her skin at the way the compliment caressed her.

It didn't go unnoticed by Lucien, and he picked up the blanket that was laying on the armrest - there were tons of blankets stored and hidden by past students around the library in these secret coves, far too disconnected from the main areas to be heated by the various fireplaces. Shaking it out, he draped it over both of their legs.

She tried to pretend her heart didn't start beating rapidly at that kindness.

"I might have to reconsider my philosophy on mixers," he admitted, sliding a bit closer until their thighs brushed against each other, a heat spreading from the point of contact. "Considering how often they're with Sigma Xi."

"Like we'd let the hottest guys mix with another sorority," she smirked, looking up at him through her dark lashes.

Elain felt herself leaning closer as she noticed Lucien doing the same, her breaths becoming shallow as she started to share his. There was only an inch left when a voice had them quickly pulling away from each other and looking around the room.

"I'm so sorry!" Cerridwen sighed, plopping into the arm chair next to where Elain sat. "I was helping Nuala learn a new recipe and completely lost track of time!

"No worries," Elain said, smiling at her friend. "Jurian and Vassa are running late as well. We were just talking about what we did last night. How was your evening?"

With that little prompting, Cerridwen launched into what she would call an epic tale about the bar she and her sister had gone out to, the boys they'd teased, and the after party they'd found themselves at. The twins were, admittedly, some of the biggest party girls on campus. Unlike everyone else, though, they could stay out until four AM and be up at eight, cooking a gourmet breakfast the rest of them could only every get when their parents visited and took them out to eat.

Lucien and Elain just sat there, listening and laughing to the truly insane story, as all of Cerridwen's were. Yet the tension remained in their bubble, their thighs still pressed against each other's under the plush blanket. Elain noticed Lucien's hand twitch every so often, as if he wanted to reach under and start to brush it up and down her leg as he had last week.

Elain would be lying if she said she didn't want that.

Her eyes were on her friend - Cerridwen's long, straight black hair moving with her body as she narrated - but her focus was on Lucien, and she registered every small movement he made.

It would be so easy to grab his hand and wrap it around her shoulders, to lean her head on him. Cerridwen wouldn't care. If anything, she'd encourage it - likely tell Lucien and Elain to just skip this session and go back to his place, offering to cover for them so long as he promised to make sure Elain got some.

She'd been trying to help Elain find a hookup for months. Apparently, six months was 'too long for relying on one's hand'. She often told Elain her poor fingers wouldn't survive the pressure.

Cerridwen forgot about the wonders of technology. An easy thing to do when you had no qualms about sleeping with a different guy each weekend. Elain had to admit, she was envious of the woman. She knew the different rules about how many people a girl could sleep with were stupid - women could be as sexually active as they wanted, and anyone who judged them for it could just leave. Still, it wasn't Elain's style. She could handle casual hookups - so long as it was a more exclusive form of casual, or a long-term casual. Preferably exclusive and long-term. She can have a bit of a jealous streak when it comes to her man, no matter how official or 'formal' a relationship it is.

Thus, she remained untouched for six months by anyone but her and her vibrator. And Cerridwen had had enough of it. She'd even suggested Lucien once, right around the start of the term, saying something about how she heard he 'fucked like he has fire in his veins' - whatever that means.

As with all, Elain had said no, even though for the first time her body was definitely screaming yes.

So yeah, Cerridwen would support it, one hundred percent. But Elain and Lucien agreed last week that whatever happened between them would have to remain a secret. Not because their friends would care, or anyone on campus - except maybe any of the number of guys and girls that had their eyes on them for themselves - but because they couldn't risk it getting back to their parents. Their college was far too close to their families to risk it.

It was twenty minutes of torture as they listened to Cerridwen's story, determined not to look at each other, until Lucien's phone went off. He read the message and huffed out a laugh.

"Jurian and Vassa are cancelling," he explained. "Apparently 'standing up caused the headaches to get worse'."

A laugh erupted from Cerridwen. "And yet, shockingly, I'm sure the sex they're about to have won't cause any issues at all."

Elain felt herself blush at the blunt comment from Cerridwen and she cursed herself internally for being so sensitive. She didn't know why she was, but she always had reactions like this when it was brought up in conversation so freely by others. Especially when guys were a part of it.

"I'm not commenting on that," Lucien groaned.

Cerridwen just rolled her eyes. "Fine. Well, if they're not coming, I'm out. A.B.G. is hosting a stoplight tonight, and I need to go shopping for a new outfit. Elain, care to join?"

Elain's eyes snapped to her friend's, brown meeting black. "Oh, no, thank you. I'm not going to that party, and I did have some things I wanted to get done this afternoon."

"Okay. See you losers later." She smiled and waved her fingers as she started back out the library.

"And then there were two…again," Lucien chuckled, finally looking back at Elain. "So, not a fan of A.B.G. or of stoplight parties?"

"Both," she answered, turning her face toward his. "Especially a stoplight party with Cerridwen. She'd never let me get away with wearing red, and even if I could convince her to let me wear yellow, she'd find a way to sneak some green in. But it's just not my style."

Lucien nodded at her response. "I get it. I'm not really one for those types of parties either. While I appreciate the concept of being able to blatantly tell people how willing you are to entertain being hit on, some don't grasp that green isn't automatic consent." Lucien's eyes darkened in a haunted way that made Elain want to wrap her arms around him.

"Very true," she agreed. "Just because someone is open to finding something that night doesn't mean they'll want it with you…meaning, like, the royal you. Not you-you." She started fumbling over her words, her eyes darting down as she flushed with embarrassment.

Lucien laughed softly, hanging his head closer to hers. "I knew what you meant. I like to imagine that, at a party like that, you'd be open and interested to my advances." As he spoke - his voice low and sultry - he finally slid a hand under the blanket, taking one finger and gently brushing it up her thigh.

It was the lightest of touches, but still Elain shuddered, her head snapping up as she allowed herself to get lost in his russet eyes.

"Even in red I'd be green for you," she whispered, her breath hitching at the way his eyes lit up, and the smile that spread just for her. It was gentle, delicate, and full of something Elain couldn't quite place but knew she wanted more of.

She barely waited a full second before bringing her hands to the nape of his neck and pulling herself up, pressing her lips to his.

If Lucien was surprised, he didn't show it, not missing a beat before kissing her back and opening for her as one arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer until she was half-straddling one of his thighs, his other hand holding her under her knee.

Their tongues danced, twirling together, pulling apart, and then coming back, the kiss sloppy and wet in a way Elain had never felt before. She'd clearly been missing out.

Then again, by not kissing Lucien she'd been missing out. No man had ever made her feel this way through something as simple as a kiss. Like a fire was spreading through her that burned only for him, an answer to the one in Lucien that called to her.

His arm tightened and he pulled her up so that she was truly sitting on his thigh, her skirt surrounding her legs, leaving just her lace underwear separating her from his jeans. The pressure building had her rocking her hips, gasping as she rubbed herself against his leg, and she couldn't stop. Couldn't stop wanting more. More pressure, more friction, more of him.

Ripping her mouth away from his, she started pressing kisses up his jawline, bringing out her teeth once she reached his neck, biting and sucking gently as she trailed down the soft skin. He moaned as she bit down on the pressure point of his collar, and the sound had Elain purring in satisfaction.

She could feel him hard beneath her as she pressed her body closer, her center moving against the highest part of his thigh she could reach, and damn did it feel good. He was all muscle beneath her, and she could feel it against her core so perfectly that her release started coming faster than it ever had before.

Elain whimpered as she found her way back to his mouth, kissing him deeply, one hand now tangled in his hair as her other explored his body - his chest, his abs, what pressed against his stomach.

And as she let her hand brush against that hardened bump, she felt her organs pause, even as the rest of her continued moving. He was huge, definitely bigger than she'd had before. He would fill her in a way she'd never felt, and she couldn't wait for it.

"Oh my gods," he groaned into her mouth as she trailed up and down his length, over his pants. Yes, they had a blanket, but it was barely covering them, and they were in the library. Clothes needed to stay on - entirely.

Plus, Elain had a feeling that once one button got undone, the rest would follow before she even knew what was happening.

Elain's own hips sped up as she felt her climax continue to build, her kissing becoming sloppier and slower until she stopped all together, focusing on her core, her hips, her budding release.

Her breathing grew heavy and ragged as she rested her forehead against Lucien's, her eyes fluttering shut. Lucien's hands brushed up and down her thighs, small squeaks starting to escape from Elain with each exhale.

"Come for me, Elain," he whispered, his voice a gentle song that filled her heart, his breath a caress against her skin.

Her release erupted through her entire body, entire being, as she shuddered. And as it did Lucien's lips captured hers, muffling her moan as he swallowed it like a favorite tea. Elain clenched and twitched as she rode it out, until finally she collapsed against him, panting heavily into his neck.

"I think it's time I take you to bed." His voice was barely a breath in her ear.

"Please," she practically whined, her arms draped over his shoulders.

He chuckled at her reaction and then hissed a curse, one of his hands reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "Yeah?!"

Elain didn't try to pay attention to the conversation, instead choosing to pepper kisses up and down his neck, enjoying the soft noises that came from him, the way his voice sometimes cracked when she bit down as he was talking.

Despite that, though, he ended the call clearly furious, sighing as his face fell against her shoulder.

"That was Eris…again," he explained.

Elain couldn't help but laugh. "He really has amazing timing."

"Apparently my presence is required within the hour. Some dinner and I need to get to the house early for it."

She pulled back, lifting his head and slowly brushing her fingers through his hair. "A charmed life, indeed," she teased softly. "We'll find another time."

Lucien practically growled at the comment. "I can try to leave early, and call you when I'm out?"

"Sure," she offered, nodding. She doubted he'd be able to do that. Elain had experience with having dinner on Beron's schedule. He took up the whole night. Always.

Leaning in, Elain kissed him delicately, giggling at how Lucien's hands tightened on her legs for a second.

"Come on." She slid off his lap and stood up, taking his hands in hers and tugging him up as well. "Are you walking back to your place first?"

He nodded. "But we should go in different directions if we can. Otherwise I'll never make it to my parents' house."

With a wide smile Elain pushed up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his, her hands still in his.

"If you do end up at that party, please where red," he breathed on to her lips.

"I'll even dye my hair." She grinned widely and kissed him again before slipping her hands out of his, pulling on her jacket, and swinging her bag over her shoulder.

With a final wave Elain turned and started back down the maze of stacks, feeling Lucien's eyes on her even after she was out of his sight.

a/n: I'm not sorry for my Cerridwen and Nuala headcanon. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And you can't tell me Elain isn't the jealous type. I'm not saying she's mean about it. But Elain would still get jealousssss. Cannot change my mind.

Correct Opinion #1: A woman's sexuality is her own damn business, and she is welcome to embrace it the way she bloody well wants to. Judging a woman for doing just that is wrong - if someone's choices aren't hurting you or other people, there is nothing at all to judge. And even then it's not always something to judge, cause that's not our job. And if you wouldn't judge a man for whatever ways he chooses to embrace his own sexuality, then it is also misogynistic. It's okay to have your own beliefs, opinions, and choices around your own sexuality, to hold yourself to your own standards, but those standards are yours and for you alone. Don't judge others on their sexuality, and don't let others judge you, whether you are very open or extremely closed off with your sexuality - so long as it's what you want and is what you're comfortable with, it's right.

^^ And that's essentially what I was trying to get at in that little internal monologue for Elain. But I may have missed it a bit cause of the voice of the character and because of general writing style and all that.

Correct Opinion #2: Being given blatant consent to hit on someone, or at least approach them (as wearing green/holding a green cup at a stoplight party tends to mean, pending the rules), does not mean consent for anything else. Or consent to continue hitting on them if they've told you they're not interested.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[frostedfaves]

Sharp Edges

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: “They say home is where your heart is, but what if my heart is six feet underground with you?”

Warnings: heavy angst, grieving, major death, depression, brief mention of implied vomiting, funeral at the end

A/N: sorry if you came here for a good time, but this is not it! based on these Sad Sunday and Fluff Monday blurbs! I’d recommend reading them first since they’re referenced in this, but not entirely necessary. anyway, excited to hear your thoughts! also I meant to post a request today and save this for next week but I started writing this during work and couldn’t stop. so I’ll work on getting requests out next week since I’ve got Sad Sunday tomorrow!

marvel requests?

-

Wanda Maximoff misses you.

When the news broke that you’d died from your injuries before she could get to you, her body collapsed on the spot. Her mind instantly recalled the memory of the last time she’d seen you truly happy.

For a week straight, your hands were covered in clay. Due to your lack of a childhood, you’d never gotten to experience normal things like attempting pottery in an art class. When you finally discovered it, the team never heard the end of it. You’d annoyed Tony into buying a kiln after coming home with enough clay to build a small village and got to work.

You worked a while on making tiles and carving winter trees and flowers into them, eventually moving onto dishes. You’d perfected plates and bowls but couldn’t figure out mugs, which only made you work harder to the point where Wanda had to drag you to the kitchen and bed each day.

On that seventh day you’d run into Wanda’s room, tackling her into a pile of laundry she was sorting because you were just that excited. You’d finally made a mug worth putting into the kiln, and a celebratory kiss was in order. She’d helped you pick out colors to paint it with, sporting a proud smile and eyes full of adoration.

She pressed repeat on your ecstatic screams echoing in her thoughts, hoping to drown out the cries of pain she’d heard over the phone. You’d been taken by an enemy from her very last mission, someone who had no knowledge that when Wanda disappeared months prior, she left you behind. They could only assume that you would be the easiest way to find her, not aware that you were just as in the dark on her whereabouts.

She’d listened with tears streaming down her cheeks as your captor made you beg, packing her belongings frantically while each whimper of her name turned her stomach a bit more. The regret of leaving her Lovely behind was immense, and she wanted nothing more in the moment than burning her enemy alive and bringing you into her arms forever.

There was a mixture of emotions in everyone when Wanda finally reached the compound, much slower upon receiving knowledge that your body rested there. Broken spirits lay behind defeated and tearful eyes, but looking into Steve’s nearly sent her crumbling to the floor again. 

They were cold and dark, as they earned the right to be. The eyes of a man who comforted his best friend for weeks, day and night, when the love of her life deserted her in her sleep. He was no stranger to your heavy sobs in the shower, overheard when he put sweaters in the dryer and left them in the bathroom because you shivered constantly. Your lifeless eyes at the dinner table when he forced you to leave your room. Sitting with you in the medical wing after breaking your wrists on the punching bag.

As far as Steve Rogers was concerned, Wanda deserved every bit of pain she felt.

This thought mixed in with the flashes of his memories of your suffering is what sent her to the floor, gasping for air with a wet face. Through Natasha and Tony’s legs as they approached her she caught him walking away, and it only made it harder to breathe. 

Your funeral came days later, and Wanda spent the entirety of the time in your room. The scent of your favorite lotion on her hands pulled her into a nightmare filled sleep, and she found comfort in it knowing that her reality upon waking up was far more painful. After taking a shower and checking with FRIDAY on Steve’s location in the building, she found herself staring at an empty space in one of the kitchen cupboards.

“Wanda, what’s going on?”

She turned at the sound of Pepper’s voice, heart clenching painfully at the sight of her formal dress. “Where’s her mug?”

“She smashed it.”

“What?” She wanted to ask why, but stopped herself in fear of the answer.

“She used it for the first time a month after you left. When she went to wash it, she saw where you’d painted on the bottom ‘Lovely’s Mug, Do Not Use’ and threw it against the  nearest wall.”

Wanda pushed past Pepper and sprinted to the closest bathroom, not even caring if anyone walked past and heard the violent act of everything she’d held back spilling out. Gentle hands came a few minutes later, one rubbing her back and the other wrapping any loose hairs around her poorly formed bun. When she’d finished, the toilet was flushed for her and a half empty bottle of water was shoved into her shaky grip.

“Rinse.”

She blinked in surprise at the stern tone, turning her teary gaze to meet eyes much softer than days prior. She stood on shaky legs after following his instruction and using the water, her confusion only growing as he helped her lean against the sink for support.

“I thought you hated me,” she voiced her concern into the quiet room, and Steve sighed.

“I want to, trust me.” He took the bottle from her and used his free hand to scratch at his beard nervously. “I loved--love her like family and when you left, it felt like she left too. Just when I thought I was getting her back, she was taken from me for good. As much as I want to hate you, I can’t. Especially knowing that until her last breath, she loved you.”

He stepped forward again, pulling Wanda into a warm embrace as tears rolled down both of their cheeks. The air grew still, heavy with emotion and silence punctuated with their sniffles.

“I hate that I ruined something she was so proud of making. Everything I touched of hers, I destroyed. Her mug, her heart. I wish I’d never left, and sometimes I wish I never met her. She would’ve done much better without me.”

Her next sniffle was cut short when Steve pulled away just enough to make eye contact.

“You may have made a small part of her life hard, but you spent much more time making her happy. Because of you, she stopped being so afraid of nighttime storms, instead associating it with time to spend close to you. She tried new things and worked harder on missions to help create a safe future for the two of you to exist in. And if anything, she’s inspired me to do the same, for you and all of us.”

Wanda remained silent as she mulled over his words, continuing to do so as she got dressed for the worst event of her life, only tied with Pietro’s funeral. She sat in the front row between Steve and Natasha, a numbness taking over as she listened to everyone speak so highly of you. Her arms held tightly to Tony in comfort as he cried in the middle of his speech, allowing Pepper to take over as she took his place in front of everyone.

“This is--for the second time--the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’m not here to talk about me. I want to talk about my best girl, the one I only ever referred to as Lovely, from the moment I met her. In fact, I’d like to talk directly to her, if you don’t mind.”

She turned her gaze directly above the crowd toward the sky, smiling a bit when a bird crossed her line of vision.

“Lovely, I’m so sorry I left you behind. I thought I was protecting you from the monster I believed myself to be, but instead I just made everything worse. I should have stayed. We never got to finish that show we were binge-watching, and I don’t think that I ever will. Not without you.”

She paused for a moment to breathe, also taking the time to clear space on her cheeks for the next round of tears.

“I should have stayed to be around for the next thing you got into after pottery. You deserve to be that excited about something again. I loved the way you’d say my whole name with that shiny look in your eye that just made me love you so much more, and I remember you telling me that if you weren’t so afraid of annoying me, you’d call me by my full name all the time.”

Her eyes blinked as tears clouded her vision once more, allowing them to fall as she turned to your picture beside your covered body.

“I want to say thank you for being an amazing friend and even better girlfriend, Lovely. I didn’t deserve to have you, but I’m glad I was gifted with being a part of your life anyway. I hope that wherever you are, you’re as happy as you made me, and I want you to know something that will forever be true.”

She cleared her throat as her emotions began to choke her there, hands coming to wrap around the pendant of a necklace you gave her as her final words came out in a whisper.

“Wanda Maximoff misses you.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @marie-03

[kittenscoat]

GIVEAWAY🎊 ~ CLOSED Running from today October 22nd to November 1st at midnight! I just want to thank everyone for being with me through this crazy first year of running my shop. It means the world to me that you guys are here, joining me on this journey! I hope to keep improving and learning through the many more years to come! Big shoutout to @darlingearshop who not only helpped me make amazing shop friends but also 1year ago welcomed me to community. Thank you for being an amazing friend and always being there to answer all my dumb questions haha. 💕 Pink Comfort Set~! Includes: 🎀 8.5" Floppy lop bun ears. 🎀 Pink satin ribbon bows with gold bells and black charm. 🎀 7" Bun tail. 🎀 Pink satin ribbon bow with big gold bell. 🎀 Squeaker at the tip! 🎀 Ears and tail are handsewn! 🎀 All items are made with lux faux burgundy fur. 🎀 34" x 31.5" throw blanket, handknit by me. 🎀 Blanket is made from soft, chenille yarn. 100% polyester. All 🎀s are made by the lovely @swiftyfoxbuilds who has also been a great friend, please go check them out! This is a massive giveaway to celebrate 1 year of Kitten'sCoat but also my birthday on Sunday 🎂. All you have to do is: ▪︎Be following my shop. ▪︎Comment down below what your favourite set/ears/tail has been so far from this past year. ▪︎IN your comment, tag someone. If you don't have anyone, you may tag the shop ONCE. ▪︎BONUS entry: Comment what you would like to see in the future and tag a different person. ▪︎BONUS entry: Share this post on your story and tag the shop. ▪︎BONUS entry: Comment your favourite birthday memory and tag a different person. If I LIKED your comment, then your entry has been accounted for. First Place: The whole Pink Comfort set. If we reach 1500 followers: Second Place: 50% off coupon. If we reach 1700 followers: Third Place: 25% off coupon. If we magically reach 2000 followers: Fourth Place: 15% off coupon. Anyway, thank you guys for being here and I can't wait to read all your comments! Discord peeps, watch out for later today when I announce what your giveaway will be🤫 Tags: #cosplay #kemonomimi #usagi #bunnyplay #bunnygirl #costume #handmade #bunbun #bunnyears #bunnytail https://www.instagram.com/p/CVV41qOrTlU/?utm_medium=tumblr

[incorrect-miraith-quotes]

(A/N yes, this is an incorrect quote acc but I can write actual good stuff too 😳)

Drinks and Sunsets

7:00 AM (3 hours before the match starts)

“Renee!! Wake up please, there is breakfast!” Natalie shouted at the closed door infront of her. Renee had fallen asleep at an ungodly time trying to find out more about herself and well, it didnt work out the way she wanted. She groaned, squeezing her eyes tight while moving her arms up. She stretched and eventually popped her shoulder which caused her to scream but not really scream if you understand what I mean. She cursed at herself for not going to sleep earlier knowing that there was a game today. She sat up, shading her eyes from the window that shown the bright sun. Her head turned to the door when she heard knocks coming from the other side. “someone’s there” Renee’s voices whispered, echoing throughout her ears. “No shit sherlock,” She hissed.

“Wra- I mean Renee~ wait no- sorry. Renee are you gonna eat?” Elliot sputtered, clearing his throat. “Depends on what it is,” She sighed. “It’s uH..pancakes I think? I dont know, Ramya was chosen to be the one who cooks today. They looked..burnt,” He explained, shuddering from the thought of Ramya’s pancakes. “I guess, give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll head out. Wait for me?” Renee asked, getting up and walking to her dresser. “Uh..yeah, yeah I’ll wait for you. Dont worry about a thing..you worried cause I’m not..haha..ha..,” Elliot trailed off, sliding down to the floor until he hit his arse on the concrete. Renee chuckled to herself in his stupidity and got dressed. She wore a black tank top with short grey shorts and her black sneakers with her ankle high socks (black of course). She unlocked her door and peered over to the tall man crouched next to her door, falling asleep.

“Wake up Elliot, I thought I was the one to wake up hm?” She flicked his forehead, causing him to rub the spot where he was hit. “Ow ow ow- Why??” Elliot questioned, confused as to why he was hit. “You were gonna start drooling so..anyways, breakfast?” Renee pulled him up, almost falling backwards. “I mean that’s why I’m here right? Right? i hope Im right..,” Elliot trailed off again, starting his journey towards the kitchen with the small woman behind him. Everynow and then he would peek back to make sure she was still there and not inside a portal. “You’re safe with him” Renee looked up at Elliot, the voice echoing throughout her mind. “You like him dont you” Renee looked up at the ceiling and scrunched her face in annoyance, internally screaming at the voices. “I don’t, you guys always assume things,” she whispered, looking at the random framed pictures hung up on the wall. “Elliot!” Renee shouted at the still walking man. He jumped slightly and flinched, “y-yeah? What’s up?” “Kitchen is right here doofus,” She nodded her head towards the room, “How did you manage to miss this big ass room??” “I guess it was an accident, never done that before haha,” He sighed and apologized. The so called pancakes were sitting on a top of a white ceramic plate, getting colder by the minute. “I wouldn’t even dare to try them..I mean you could but- It probably wouldnt be good..,” He walked over to the counter, “If you want, I can cook somthing up for you?” “That would be nice thank you and uh..can you make me some coffee? You know how I like it already,” She sat down at the large dinner table, laying her head down. “Yeah I can do that for ya, anything you want in particular?” Elliot asked but was met with silence. He peeked over and saw she was sleeping soundly with her head in her arms. Elliot took off his sweater and draped it over her shoulders then went back to the kitchen.

8:37 AM (1:30 hours before the match starts)

“Breakfast is ready Renee,” he shook her gently until she stirred, “Mornin’ beaut- I-I mean um..sleepyhead..? Yeah..that’s the word..sleepyhead.” “Mmm..mor-“ She clears her throat and rubs her eyes, “morning..sorry I fell asleep I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” She looked down at the scrambled eggs and toast that were neatly placed onto the plate infront of her. “It’s fine, I didnt wanna bother you because I thought you’d kill me,” He admitted, taking off the apron that was tied around his waist. He placed it on the hook next to the fridge where a stickynote was left by Octavio not to touch his jello. The only person he let touch his stuff was Natalie. Renee picked up the fork and began eating. “You should date him” “No,” She whispered, furrowing her brows as she picked up a piece of egg with her fork. She watched as the tall man made her coffee just the way she likes it; black with a little bit of sugar and creamer. She was never one to like sweet coffee like everyone else. He poured the jug’s contents into her prefered mug. He added the little things she liked and carried it over to where she was sitting. She thanked him with a small, almost unnoticable, smile. Renee sat there with her cup close to her nose, smelling the bitter coffee aroma. She cooled it before sipping it slowly, enjoying the taste of her morning coffee.

“Hey Elliot, do you know what time it is?” She questioned the other who was washing the pan. He checked his phone and replied, “8:52” Renee stood up and brought her plate to the sink after she was done eating. “Could you wash these for me? I need to freshen up in my room,” She handed him the plate, “thanks.” She started making her way towards her room; which consisted of one right and a lot of walking straight. But she never got tired of it since she was happy she lived comfortably with her friends. The 2 rooms that were next to hers were Natalie’s and Ajay’s. The boys were on the opposite side so in front of her was Elliot. The hallway she lived in held 6 legends at a time 3 girls, 3 boys. Renee’s hallway had Ajay, her, and Natalie and then Octavio, Elliot, and Tae. The others had their hallways, some with empty rooms for future legends. Natalie was never really in her room since she was always with Octavio. It was weird, seeing two polar opposites living together. Then there were Ajay and Tae, she managed to make friends with him. I’m pretty sure Tae is still annoyed but is warming up to her.

“Oh! Youre awake finally,” Natalie smiled, walking out of Octavio’s room, “You never woke up so I had to get Elliot to help me..” Renee stood there at her door with the key in the slot, “Yeah, Ive just been...thinking.”

“Hm, well I hope you get some more sleep. Oh and goodluck with the match today!”

“You arent participating today?”

“Non, Ive been feeling unwell for the past few hours”

“Why aren’t you in bed then?”

“Well, Tavi was getting Ajay but he hasnt come back yet”

“You should be resting Nat..”

“Im okay I swear! Pas besoin de s'inquiéter,” She smiled softly and weakly. She was still in the large shirt Octavio gave her to sleep in and pajama pants. She had a small nessy plush tucked into her elbow, being squished tightly. “Chica! Get back in the bed right now or else im going to llevarte allí yo mismo,” Octavio came back with soup and meds, shouting at the sickly girl. “Ah, Tavi.. Je suis désolé I was just wondering where you were.,” She hugged the plush closer to her fragile body. “Come here conejita, lets get you better,” He lifted her up into his arms, still carrying the supplies Ajay had given him, “When you are done being sick I am going to....”

“Lovebirds,” Renee sighed and closed the door to her room, preparing for the match ahead of her. She got her battle gear on and re-did her messy bun into a neat one. Her kunai rested on the counter, untouched in its holster. She picked it up and unsheathed it, smiling at the small sparks of void that emitted out of it. She put it away and hooked the holster to her belt. “You know you wanna be like them, you cant deny it” The voices teased. “You guys really want me in a relationship huh,” Renee flopped backwards onto her messy bed. She didnt have time to make it in the morning but now she can. She checked her phone and scrolled through her social medias. Elliot made her download them and every now and then, Elliot will make her post a picture or something. She always got tagged in fanart and random posts about her in the matches. She would occasionally like some and they would freak out and thank her. She scrolled through her tagged until she came across one post. It was fanart of her and Elliot, sitting together with their hands intertwined watching the sunset. Renee blushed slightly at the art. She saw that Elliot had already liked it, but seeing as he likes all posts that he got tagged in, it wasnt weird. She hesitantly liked it and turned off her phone. “Maybe I do like him” Her thoughts were interupted when someone knocked at the door.

9:34 (couple minutes until the match starts. The ship still has to arrive at the arena, World’s Edge)

“Renee! Get yuh ass over here ‘cause the match starts soon!” Ajay’s voice boomed through the door. Her footsteps could be heard on the other side as she walked away. Renee stood up and stretched while walking towards where Ajay just was. She opened the door to see Elliot walking out of his room. “Oh hey Ren..can I call you that? Im gonna call you that..anyways, hi. Wanna walk together?” She nodded, “Okay cool, lets start heading over before everyone leaves without us.” They walked in a comfortable silence over to their friends. Octavio was in a corner moping since he didnt have his love interest with him while Crypto spied on him from another corner. He was still mad that Nat rejected him a few weeks ago to be with Octavio. It was crazy hearing that he was sulking around in his room for hours on end. But back to the main girl in this story, Renee sat down on one of the couches that sat in the middle of the room. Everyone was ready to board the dropship to head over to the arena. Here is what was going around, Gibby and Ajay were laughing together,Octavio was..unenergetic for once, Tae was in the corner, Loba was fixing her nails while Rev watched her on the wall, Alexander was playing around with his gas, and lastly Ramya was chewing gum while playing on her phone. It was always bustling in the living space because its where everyone socialized other than the bar. A small yet loud alarm was sounded to let all the legends know it was time to board the dropship.

“Woo-hoo! It’s finally time to go,” Octavio said unenthusiastically. Everyone walked in one-by-one or in pairs. They all strapped up in their skydiving equipment and was prepared for the long drop ahead of them. Renee stood next to Elliot’s room in the ship while the others either went to their rooms or sat in the middle. (Reference back to the season 3 trailer for room placement) Renee was flippping her kunai peacefully while Elliot rambled about something in his room. She enjoyed listening to him talk about nonsense while the quiet humming of the ship was surrounding them. It was peaceful, atleast to her. It blocked out most of the voices and when she was around Elliot they seemed to shut up and occasionally tease her. The drop ship shook a bit and Elliot tripped a little but caught himself. Renee didnt mind turbulence since she didnt really care about anything really, she tenses up a bit sometimes but thats about it. Her scarf end swayed as the ship lowered slowly. Suddenly the screens flashed on and displayed everyone’s banners. Everyone gets a chance to customize and submit their banners to headquarters. The teams were as listed,

Lifeline, Crypto, and Gibraltar

Octane, Caustic, and Bloodhound

Mirage, Wraith, and Loba

Revenant, Pathfinder, Bangalore

Rampart

Everyone stood on their respective platforms also known as where the screens flashed their names. The champions were shown not even a minute later, Wraith’s team was shown and she said a voiceline to taunt her enemies of the day. The metal shifted under their feet and lowered slowly, revealing the bright, cold arena. Everyone at this point was used to the cold though, they were glad it was world’s edge because kings canyon during those months was scorching. Comms were switched on and everyone tested out the mics. Everything was set up and ready to go so teams started dropping towards their locations. Wraith was jumpmaster and pinged on the map, Fragment West. Everyone knew both of Fragment was dangerous and it was hotdrop that game too. You can bet that there were multiple death boxes surrounding the small yet large area. Wraith was already kill leader with 7 kills from the popular spot. Bullets were heard in the distance and Wraith portaled to gain some speed while Loba teleported and Mirage had to run. He wasn’t a running person for long distances so he just took wraith’s portal.

“W- Wait up you two! I dont have a movement ability!!” He cried out to the two girls. The two looked at eachother and giggled while looking back at the energy drained man. “Danger move” Wraith looked around and pinged an enemy and phased away out of danger. Again, Loba teleported away and Mirage was left alone to run away. They hit him good but he managed to get behind cover. Wraith lended him some shield cells and syringes and shot at the other team with her sentinel. The other team was Octane’s team and they were stacked; Octane had gold armour while his teammates had red evo. Octane also had a peacekeeper that he got from a carepackage just next to them. It was a long fight, from gas being thrown on them to the ring closing in on the two teams. They had been fighting for so long they didnt even realize that there were only 3 teams in total left. Wraith’s team, Octane’s team, and lastly Pathfinder. I would say Pathfinder’s team but his teammates died and the banner timers ran out, he was left solo.

“Everyone try to watch your backs, the robot could try to ambush one of us,” Loba turned to face her teammates, occassionally looked up and around for the tall simulacrum. “Spotted him, up there. He has a longbow and what seems to be a flatline on his back. I could snipe him down if that’s what you want,” Wraith calmly called out, pulling out her sentinel and charging it. “Go ahead beautiful,” Loba replied. In an instant, a loud, charged sentinel bullet was shot and killed the robot up on the hill, instantly eliminating him. Now, it was just Octane and Wraith’s teams left to fight. “Nice kill Re- I mean,” He cleared his throat, “Nice kill Wraith..” Wraith smiled and thanked him silently while eyeing down the other team. Seconds went by and both teams rushed eachother. Bullets whizzed by eachothers heads and occasionally hit their shoulders or legs. Octane’s team was low on meds while the other team was low on ammo. Another minute of fighting passes and Wraith’s team is deemed the champion. When they were back in the drop ship everyone congratulated them for winning even though they were in a tight spot. There was an after match party happening in an hour so everyone went back to their rooms to clean up after a long day and get dressed. Renee was first to her room to take a shower while the others stayed in the kitchen or hallways sparking conversations with eachother. While Renee took her cold shower, Elliot decided it was be such a good idea to just waltz into her room to ask her a question not knowing that she was relaxing without voices for once.

“Hey Renee! I was just wondering if you wanted to match for the uh..,” He paused, looking around, “Renee? Where are you??” He looked around the empty yet messy room. Clothes thrown everywhere and notebooks and hairties were strewn about. Her messy bed showing how much she slept that night, which it wasn’t much. He began to worry about her well-being and if she even actually took care of herself. He heard the loud shower running so he went and knocked on the bathroom door. But before he actually knocked, he thought about the things that could happen if he knocked on her bathroom door when she didnt even know that he was in her room. He’d be killed. Before he knew what was coming he accidentally knocked on the door infront of him like a reflex. He heard the girl inside gasp loudly with a few things dropping. He startled her, which was a first for him. He was in shock and did not want to move. “She’s like a T-Rex, if I dont move she cannot see me-“ He was cut off when the door swung open and a semi-dryed off Renee was standing in-front of him. She had her body wrapped with a towel and her still damp hair dripped along the floor and her scarred shoulders.

“How are you in here and what do you want,” She said firmly with an annoyed face. “One, your door was open, two, I wanted to ask if you wanted to match outfits for the after match thing..,” He sighed looking away, “Nevermind, it was a dumb question of course you dont.” He turned and apologized but before he could leave the room Renee stopped him. “Who said I didn’t want to? I wouldn’t mind matching with you,” She stepped over to her closet and sifted through the dresses section, “What color or style were you thinking of?” Elliot was astonished that she actually agreed to do anything with him. “I was thinking accents of purple..? I think it would look nice on both of us,” He sat down on a nearby chair in her room, looking away from her slender body. “Fine with me, now turn around,” She made sure he had his eyes closed and was turned around in order to change. She dropped the towel and peered back just in case. “You want him to see you” “Tell him to turn around” “Let him touch you” The voices were surrounding her but she managed to ignore them. When she finished getting dressed she had Elliot turn around.

“Wow..,” Elliot had no words for the sight in front of him. She wore a long black dress that had a slit on the side with a fluffy, purple boa draped over her shoulders and she was wearing heels making her as tall as him. She played with her hair a bit out of embarrassment while looking away. “You look..amazing,” Elliot was admiring her features that he acted like he’d never seen before, “I just- have no words.” “I dont look that good relax,” Renee walked over to her dresser and put on a necklace that had a purple gem in the middle. “Are you going to just stand there and not go to your room and get dressed?” Renee peered over at him from the mirror. “Right..right yeah, Ill be back to ‘pick you up’,” He opened the door and quietly shut it behind him. She sighed and thought out loud, “What am I going to do about him?” She put her hair in a half bun-half hair down sort of style and finished her look with mascara and a slight tint to her lips. She slipped on short black gloves and grabbed a clutch that had small purple accents on it. “He will like it” “For once you look nice” “People are going to judge you” “Nobody will approach you” “People are going to hate you” The voices started off nice but went downhill and piled hate after hate onto her. She pushed them away and mumbled to herself that tonight will be a good night. Light knocking was heard and she went to open the door, her heels clicking with every step.

“Ready to gooooo-“ He looked her up and down and smiled, “You’re beautiful” He tucked a stray strand from her hair behind her ear, “Let’s be on our way before the limosu- limosio- limo gets here.” He held out a hand and she gladly took it. They held hands for most of the way until Renee let go to check her clutch for something. She pulled it out and checked it before slipping it back in. It was her Apex ID, aka the only way to get into Apex events. You can be one of the legends but they wouldnt let you in without it since people knew how to look almost identical to them. She didn’t regrab his hand after that, she wanted to make sure no one saw. When they got to the front of the building everyone was in their formal attire. Octavio was wearing a green suit top with tailored shorts to go along with it and Natalie wore a white party dress that had orange and blue accents, Anita was in a classic suit talking to Loba who was in a short gold dress, Crypto was in a white suit with green accents, Rampart was in a blouse and office pants, Gibby was in a suit while Ajay wore a long blue dress, Bloodhound wore their goggles along with a suit that had a red cloth in its pocket, and Alexander wore a plain black suit. Revenant doesn’t dress up he said. Pathfinder simply went as himself for the night. After a couple minutes of waiting the limo drove up to the curb of the building. Everyone piled in close together and began conversations with eachother. Elliot and Renee sat really close together due to the limo being quite small for a bunch of legends. Some minutes pass and Renee’s eyes are starting to close. She finally let the sleepiness take over her and her head softly fell onto Elliot’s shoulder. He looked over at her and smiled. Most of the legends eyed them and mouthed for him not to move one bit or she would murder him.

“Elliot..,” Renee mumbled in her sleep, “I..love you..” The small sentence was only heard by the man allowing her to sleep. He tensed up but relaxed as her arm draped over his. The limo pulled up to the event center and a red carpet was dramatically rolled out for the legends. One-by-one everyone was walking down the red carpet either together or solo. Im guessing you can guess which ones walked solo. Elliot nudged Renee and she slowly opened her eyes. She yawned quietly and her eyes met his. They looked at eachother and then she backed away, standing up. She turned away and quickly walked out of the limo and Elliot followed shortly after. Elliot caught up and walked beside her while she covered her eyes from the flashing of the cameras. He enjoyed all the attention on him but Renee never did. He realized what was happening and walked directly infront of her, taking the spotlight. The taller put his hand behind his back and Renee allowed herself to grab and squeeze it lightly. He led her somewhere private and sat her down on a wall away from everyone else.

“You okay? I know you dont like the atten- attentin- eyes on you,” he knelt down, matching his eye level with hers. “I’m fine, you dont have to worry about me so much you know,” She sighed and leaned back slightly, “Let’s just get back to the others before they think were fucking or something.” Elliot offered a hand but she declined, pushing herself up from the wall. She swayed her hips with every step she took towards the doors. Her dress flowed down neatly from her waist down to the carpeted floor. He watched her walk away as the boa she wore bounced with her strides. “W- wait up Renee!” He yelled, fast-walking towards her but she was already through the doors. When he made it through, it was bustling with legends from other ports and random game organizers. There was loud music playing from speakers up above and most of the legends were by the bar including Anita and Loba. Others were either on couches or talking near walls with each other. There were people dancing in the middle of the room where flashing lights and more sparkled along the area. His eye caught the bright purple boa from across the room.

“Hey Ren, glad I finally found you,” He sat next to the now relaxed woman, “Let me guess, appletini?” She gave a side-glance towards him while she sipped the drink he guessed. It was her usual at the Paradise Bar so it wasn’t weird. Minutes went by and the found themselves laughing at eachother from stupid jokes and random stories. A slow-dancing song played on the speakers and everyone got with a partner.

“Wanna go dance with me Ren?” Elliot grabbed her hand, pointing to where everyone was partnered together. “I can’t really dance Elliot, I dont know if I could do it,” Renee responded back to him, covering her face with her boa. “Oh, come on you can’t be that bad at dancing. It’s not that hard, come on I’ll teach you,” He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the seat to take her over to everyone else. He brought her to the dance floor and held her close, guiding her hands to where they were supposed to be. He placed her hands on her lower waist and swayed side-to-side with her. “See? I told you it wasnt that ha-“ He winced as she stepped on his foot, “It’s fine, I forgive you since you’re a beginner.” She apologized anyways and held him closer. As the song came to an end everyone seperated except for them.

“This is nice,” Renee pulled away from his arms, “Want to go somewhere more..quiet?” Elliot’s face contorted to a confused yet happy expression. “I know just the place Ren!” He grabbed her hand and practically sprinted out the doors with her, bringing her to a cliff just off the side of the road. He sat down far away from the edge and patted the spot next to him, signalling for her to walk over and sit next to him. The sun was setting and it was the most beautiful thing that Renee had ever seen. “Oh wow Elliot..I never knew about this spot,” She couldn’t stop gazing at the orange and red hues surrounding the hot ball of gas. “My mom would take me here sometimes, from the sunset, the sunrise, and the stars oh my god the stars. She’d make them so amazing but one day she got so sick and she couldn’t take me anymore. So everytime we get to come here I come out here, to escape the whole legend thing and relax by myself. But now, I see two pretty things infront of me..the sunset and well, you,” He gently grabbed her hand and her reddish face was hard to see in the dark. She turned her head towards him and he smiled softly. “This reminds me of something I saw today, a post with a drawing of us. There’s just one thing missing to complete the scene I believe,” Renee saw him thinking and it looked like a lightbulb just turned on in his head. He leaned in and so did she. They closed their eyes and-

kissed

The scene matched the vibe of the social media post that Renee had randomly come across. It was a strange feeling to Renee, for she had never felt this way towards anyone before. Atleast, not a time that she could remember. Elliot had a goofy smile plastered on his face afterwards. She grinned and leaned on his shoulder as they gazed at the stars that started to peek from the horizon. “Alright yuh lovebirds, get yuh asses inside before we leave without yuh guys,” Ajay leaned against the door, watching them. “Oh, alright. We’ll be right there Ajay,” Renee looked over her shoulder to the other girl and smiled softly. Ajay nodded and closed the door behind her. Elliot was the first to get up and then offered a hand for Renee to grab. She gladly took it and he hoisted her up to her feet. She brushed off any dirt that may have gotten onto her dress. As they went back inside, no one really looked at them apart from quick glances. Anita signalled to them over at the entrance that they were leaving the event. They held hands as they rushed over to the group, not wanting to let go of eachother. Anita counted them and led everyone back to the limosuine so they could pile in the same way they did when they arrived.

(Back at the Apex Dormrooms)(Specifically Elliots Room)

The two were sitting on top of the bed in Elliot’s room, talking. Everyone had just got back to the dorms and they had rushed out so they could get some privacy. “So..what are we now?” Renee turned towards Elliot, who was fidgeting with his hands. He looked up and shifted into a more comfortable position to look at the girl next to him. He looked back infront of him and flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. “Whatever you want us to be, Ren,” His eyes glanced at her features from the angle he was in.

“I want to be...more than friends-“

“Best friends?”

“No-“

“Best best friends..?”

“Elliot-“

“What?”

“I want to be together, as in I want us to date and do things that couples do,” her head turned towards him. “A-are you sure?? I-I-I mean I dont think Im that bad at being a boyfriend but are you really sure you want to be in a rela- rele- be with me???” He stammered, not knowing what to say. “Yes,” was all she had to say when Elliot pulled her in close to lay down next to him. He kissed her cheeks and her forehead multiple times before stopping to stare at her beauty. She giggled and smiled then held him down into a cuddle position on the bed. “This is what I’ve always wanted, despite me acting like I never did,” She admitted, tracing circles on the others chest. “Did you want to sleep here for the night? Or..we’re you going to go back to your room?” Elliot asked, but got no response from the other. Renee was fast asleep in his arms, snoring softly. Elliot smiled a loving smile and kissed her forehead lightly then fell asleep quick with the warmth she amitted.

E X T R A

Octane walked into Elliot’s room, knowing it was unlocked and because he was his best friend. He had his phone in hand, ready to ask a question about the future match. His eyes darted towards the bed after noticing that the lights were off. There, he saw his best friend with the stone cold girl, who never really showed emotion. He gasped quietly and opened the camera app on his phone. He snapped a picture but before he knew it, the flash went off and lit up the entire area of the man’s bed. Renee groaned and covered herself more with the blanket that was draped over her and Elliot. He quickly stepped out of the room where the couple rested and snickered at the photo he caught. His first thought was to post it, his second? To post it and then print it and frame it. He didnt want to seem like a bitch so he decided to post it with the caption, “Found the lovebirds mating LOL” Within a matter of seconds, the post flooded with likes and shares. Which meant that all if not most of the legends would see it. You bet that Elliot and Renee we’re furious when they both came across it the next day..

THE END

word count: 5,445

Hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it :] <3

Quotes will resume Monday,, 2:00pm CT

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 64)

Loose Ends

Yep, I’m still alive! Just not spending any time at all writing 😅😬 Here’s another chapter anyway, I hope you enjoy! Also, happy holidays and here’s hoping for a better 2021!!

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

We moved west, staying north, and found a place to camp far from where any Pinkertons were still patrolling. We travelled for hours, all through the remaining hours of the night, through the morning and into the afternoon. We ended up at Cotorra Springs when the sun began to set; it was cooler there and when we found a spot away from any trails, pretty secluded, we decided it was as good a place as any. The rushing sound of the geysers erupting every now and then kept making me jump at first but soon became a somewhat comforting sound. A reminder that no matter what happened, life always carried on, the world wasn't going to stop spinning and fall to pieces just yet.

We set up a small campsite with a few tents and a fire, over which we cooked meat from a deer that Charles had hunted while the rest of us set up. None of us knew how long we would be there but it was clear that we all needed some food and some rest before we even attempted to figure out our next move. We all sat around the fire with our food and little Jack was asleep with Cain by his side; the dog had tagged along with us on our journey, jumping atop the Marston's wagon whenever he got too tired.

"What exactly are we all gonna do?" John was the first one to bring up the elephant in the room, and everyone turned to eye him almost irritatedly.

Nobody spoke up or offered any sort of response, and after a moment, Lenny threw his hat in the ring.

"It's a good question. We can't live like this forever, can we?"

"Course not," Arthur said. He didn't quite snap the words but they weren't untroubled. "We've got a chest full of money on that wagon, we'll… we'll figure out what everyone wants to do and split it accordingly."

"I don't want a penny of that money," Sadie hissed, then spat into the fire, "reeks of Dutch and Micah and dirty betrayal."

"Hey, that implies it was all their money. Dutch barely put a penny in if it weren't from a job we all did together," John scoffed.

"I don't want it either but let's be rational. We're gonna need it," Charles said, looking at Sadie. "We didn't just go through all that only to starve to death at the end of it, all because of pride."

"He's got a point," I agreed. "I don't think any of us should have a problem taking that bastard's money," I added.

"Ain't his money," John shook his head, picking at something stuck in his teeth, "it's our half, fair 'n' square."

"Yeah," I nodded after a moment, but frowned a little. Silence lingered. 

"It's obvious none of us feel too good about takin' it," Abigail broke it, stating the unspoken.

"I feel fine," John snorted.

"Me too, for the most part," I hesitantly agreed. Arthur sighed beside me and everyone looked at him.

"For the love of God, not a single one of you refuse that money. This is hard enough, at this point, that money's the only thing that made this possible. Without money, we're trapped, and if we're trapped, we'll end up in the damn ground," he told us through tensely gritted teeth. More silence followed, broken by Susan.

"You're right, Mr. Morgan. This ain't no time for pride and making things needlessly hard on ourselves. We've just gotta take this opportunity to get the heck out of this mess, so I don't wanna hear no bellyaching from any of you," she said sternly, and John nodded in agreement. Lenny took a breath, and nodded too. 

"And what're you gonna do Miss Grimshaw?" I asked her softly. She met my eyes across the fire, her brows arching a little in surprise that I'd asked. 

"Me? I'm- I'm–" she began hesitantly, and glanced at the others before letting out a breath. 

"You ain't thought about it none?" Abigail asked, and Susan turned her gaze to her.

"Quite the opposite," she scoffed a laugh, then patted the side of her hair bun in an attempt at brushing back fly-aways. "Maybe I'm just a little bit ashamed to admit that I've been planning for this for a while."

My eyes widened, and so did most of the others'. 

"Oh come on. Please. A woman would have to be foolish to not consider a few back up plans in this way of life. Especially with how things have been the past few months. Even Miss O'Shea had her plans," she added, and my eyes dropped down at her mention. I always felt strange about the whole Molly situation, considering I was potentially the last person to really talk to her.

"You ain't wrong. So what's your plan?" Abigail asked. 

"I know a lot of people Miss Roberts, I have options," she chuckled. "But I think I envision a future in moonshine. An old friend of mine's been wanting to go into business together for a while now, I think I'll pay her a visit."

"Which old friend is this, anyone we know?" Arthur questioned.

"No. If you knew her, you'd know exactly who I'm talking about. She ain't a lady you easily forget," Susan chuckled, shaking her head. 

"Ain't nothing to do with those Braithwaites, then?" John snorted and Susan rolled her eyes.

"The Maggie I know would sooner hang than have anything to do with those idiots," she laughed. I smiled as I watched her laugh, feeling my admiration for her swell. Susan was a woman I would never be like, and I knew I'd miss her sorely despite all of the times I'd giggled when one of the girls would roll their eyes or pull a face at her behind her back. I knew everyone had a lot of love for her, and I did too. 

"What about you then, Lenny?" Arthur asked. "What's your plan?"

"Ohh, I'll be a rolling stone for a while I think, see where life takes me. I’d like to… learn,” he said almost hesitantly, a mild frown puckering the skin between his brows. His eyes lifted and settled on Charles for a brief moment, “maybe, if the stars align, I might just have a chance at making something of myself,” he laughed, but there was an ugly reality behind his words that bittered them slightly, though he kept smiling, and it was no accident that it was Charles that his eyes landed on. The smile that Charles returned to him was one of quiet understanding.

“My father, he wanted me to be a lawyer,” Lenny turned his grin to me, his eyes brightening a little. “From bank robber to lawyer, can you imagine that?”

I chuckled, despite the fact that with Lenny’s intelligence, charisma and articulateness, I didn't doubt his capability.

“Dutch always said I had too much potential to stay robbing banks for the rest of my life,” he breathed, looking down into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes, making them shine bright even though his energy dulled a little at his mention. Yet another silence fell across the campfire and I kept my eyes on the young man before me, so full of potential yet held back by so many factors far out of his control, and my heart hurt.

“I think that's the only thing I know of that came out of his mouth and made a lick of sense,” I noted. He looked at me, held my gaze for a few moments, then released a quiet breath.

“Maybe I’ll head to Washington D.C. Try to get a job, or go to school. I don't know about being a lawyer,” he breathed a laugh and shook his head, “but doing something… more than what I have been doing. That’d be good. I think my dad would be proud of that.”

“Your dad would be proud of you already, Lenny. I mean that. You’re a good kid, got a good heart,” Arthur told him, and everyone made a show of agreement, nodding, humming confirmations and patting him on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, all’a you, I… it's been quite a ride, ain’t it?” Lenny sighed. 

“That it has…” Charles trailed off. 

“And I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” Abigail announced, dropping her plate on the ground before rising to her feet. I watched as she very carefully bundled Jack up into her arms. “Goodnight, y’all.”

“Goodnight,” the rest of us whispered softly, as if suddenly we would all wake up the boy, even though he’d been sleeping just fine before. 

“I need some sleep too,” John agreed, and it set off a chain reaction, and Lenny and Susan retired to their sleeping spots. Charles drained the contents of his bottle of the beer that Sadie had managed to snag before we all left. 

“Arthur, tomorrow night we should…” he said quietly as he rose to his feet, trailing off. Arthur met his eyes and stared silently for a while, then nodded. 

“We will.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Charles nodded, then headed towards his tent.

“I weren’t planning on leaving him, not for a second,” Arthur called after him and Charles waved a hand dismissively, smiling over his shoulder at him.

“I know. Goodnight, folks,” he added, then crawled inside his tent to bed down for the night. I glanced at Arthur for some clarification and his eyes dropped to the ground.

“Eagle Flies got captured by the army. I said I’d break him out, I have to, princess–”

“Don't think I’m gonna try to stop you,” I whispered. He turned his head towards me, and I kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you. He got caught when I was helping Dutch screw the lot of ‘em over, pretending to be helpful. I gotta speak to him and his father, tell them about what happened with the gang today. Eagle Flies can’t keep on trusting him, getting sucked in by his fancy words just like I did at his age. It won’t do anyone any good in the end,” he explained, and I nodded in agreement.

"You need some help breaking him out?" Sadie questioned. Arthur met her eyes and shook his head. 

"Charles has a plan, shouldn't need more than the two of us."

"In that case, maybe there's something you can help me with instead," she said, leaning forwards, elbows on knees. My stomach squeezed a bit at the way her eyes lit with devilish determination. "O'Driscolls. There's a bunch of 'em hiding out over at Hanging Dog Ranch."

"Sadie–" Arthur began, his hand raising.

"With Colm gone and with just a few stragglers left, we can end those bastards for good," she cut him off, her hands clenching into fists. I took a breath and looked down at my feet, pressing my lips together.

"Sadie, I… I don't think we– we just got out of a bad situation, we're doing all we can just to get by–" he began again, and I could feel his tense but careful sympathy in his tone.

"We can finish 'em. We can. This is all I got left now, bringing some kinda justice to those sick bastards after what they did to me, what they did to my husband," she leaned forwards even more, her body tensing up, I could see her from the corner of my eye, getting full of desperation. I sensed Arthur glance at me.

My heart ached. We were finally away from Dutch and I had hoped that it would be the end of Arthur risking his life over grudges. I could handle him going with Charles to break a good man out of prison, I wasn't happy about the risk he was putting himself at but I knew he had to do it. But going to kill O'Driscolls? I was so conflicted. Sadie deserved closure over what happened to her husband, but I didn't want to lose Arthur over it. I couldn't stand it if we came this far only to–

"Please, Arthur. I need someone to ride with me. I can't go in there on my own but if I got no one–” Sadie's voice cracked and my eyes flashed up to her. "You're the only one I trust to do this with me and do it right. And I gotta do it, Arthur, I can't just let them get away with it. Please."

I stared at Sadie, feeling her pain emanating from her in waves, it made the hairs on my arms stand up and bile rise in my throat. My eyes tingled as tears threatened to form there, and Arthur looked at me again. Then Sadie did. Suddenly, I found, it was my choice, without even saying a word. 

I nervously toyed with the locket around my neck, and saw Arthur's eyes momentarily flitter down to it. 

"Arthur you–" I began after some time, when it was made clear that they were waiting on my blessing. Mine. Like I had any control over anything. "Sadie's done so much for us," I said monotonously, though it wasn't without feeling, "it's clear she needs this." 

"Thank you!" Sadie exhaled, and I rose to my feet. 

"I need to sleep," I whispered, then stepped over the log I'd been sitting on and headed for the tent I shared with Arthur. "Goodnight."

I climbed inside and laid down on my bedroll, wrapping myself up in the blanket and curling up on my side. I could hear quiet voices outside the tent, a muffled mix of soft tones from both Sadie and Arthur, none of which I could make out as words. It was only a few minutes before cool air filled the tent as the flap was pulled back, and Arthur climbed in beside me. He shuffled around, getting under his own blanket and scooting up behind me, his hand gingerly resting on my hip.

"Princess," he whispered. I made a small hum of acknowledgement. "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head, and Arthur exhaled, then kissed the shell of my ear. 

"Talk to me, please."

"I'm sorry Arthur. I'm trying not to put a leash on you, and trying to give Sadie the opportunity to get justice for her husband. All the while I'm worrying any one of these jobs people have you doing'll be the one that kills you. Right when we're finally doing what we've been waiting for," I whispered. Arthur's hand gently drifted up and down my side, his lips still at my ear giving me little pecks. 

"I could try to reassure you, but it won't help, will it?" He said softly, sadly. I shook my head. "What do you want me to do instead?" 

"Nothing. I don't want you to do anything, Arthur. I can't ask you not to do all these things. That's why I came in here to sleep, cause I know anything I say ain't gonna do any good."

"Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not," I breathed, then rolled over to face him. "I'm not mad, I'm worried. And I'll be worried until we're away from here for good. That's it. All I need from you is just to hold me right now, so I can enjoy the time I have with you," I told him, and kissed his chin. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head.

"Just a couple more jobs, princess, then it's over. I promise," he told me. 

"Please keep your word," I whispered, closing my eyes and nestling my face into his collar. 

"I will. I'm under nobody's thumb no more, I do what I want. These things, they're just… they're things I gotta do for my friends. I know you understand that, right?"

"I do. It's why I'm not stopping you."

"I'm real lucky I have you. And that you're like this. You're a good woman," he told me and I chuckled, shaking my head a little. 

"You don't have to flatter me, Arthur."

"I ain't flattering. I'm thanking you. Thank you," he said, pressed his lips momentarily to the crown of my head. "I love you."

"I love you too," I replied. 

After a few moments of silence, Arthur spoke again. "Can I ask you something? Or shall I let you sleep?"

"Now I'm curious about the question. Go on," I answered.

"Where'd you get that locket from? The one you been wearing since I got back. Looks familiar." 

The question surprised me. It wasn't anything like what I was expecting, and I laughed. Then stopped when I considered my answer. My heart was suddenly pounding because I knew I had to address how I had felt while he was away in Guarma.

"It was Susan's," I told him. "She gave it to me."

"That'll be why it's familiar," he mused. 

"It has a photograph of you inside it," I added. He was quiet for a moment.

"It does?" He questioned, tone going up a note.

I hummed my confirmation. "I… I was real bad for a while when you was gone. Susan wanted to cheer me up. I haven't taken it off since."

"Did it make you feel better?"

"A little. It was nice to have something of you, at least. But it didn't hurt any less, that you were gone."

"It would've been a comfort to have something of you with me while I was away. I thought about you constantly, I wanted to see your face just once… I didn't even have my journal, with my drawings of you. They don't live up to the real thing but they're something, at least," he whispered, squeezing me tight. 

"Let me see them," I whispered, kissing his collar bone. He made a small sound, a sort of hum, sort of sigh. 

"My drawings?"

I nodded as I moved back a little to look at him. "I've only seen a couple of your drawings of me. How many have you done?" 

"More than you've seen," he chuckled sheepishly, then rolled onto his back, staring up at the top of the tent. I shifted onto my elbow and gazed down at him. 

"May I see?" I questioned insistently, his grin widened. He was embarrassed, it was clear. "It's just me," I whispered, stroking my hand over his chest.

"Just you? That's the problem."

"Problem?"

"I'm worried I'll embarrass you." 

"Why would I be embarrassed?" I laughed. Arthur sighed and met my eyes. 

"Get my journal," he acquiesced. I giggled and sat up, reaching for his satchel that sat by his feet. I retrieved the journal and handed it to him, but he nodded towards me, urging me to keep it. "Take a look, princess." 

[marmolady]

Livita: Part One

Remember this fic? I went to do a few edits on my old fic, ‘Livita’, and the whole thing ended up stretching to double the length of the original! It’s now been split into thirds, chronicling Taylor and Estela’s journey to motherhood. 

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending. Freed from Vaanu, Taylor has been building a life with her soulmate… but their family remains not quite complete. Read PART TWO.

Warnings: Coarse language.

Word Count: 4262

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Tagging: @sceptilemasterr​ @saivilo​ @greengroove​ @edgydepressedchoicesthot

La Huerta, June 2021

 Estela and Taylor had found their home. La Huerta had been their shelter, as it had been for Diego, and for Aleister and Grace, in a time when the wider world had been in turmoil. Some years ago, during the twelve Catalysts’ year of isolation at the end of the world, a small village had been built in the shadow of the great tree of Elyys’tel, and it was here that remained home for the small group. On La Huerta, Taylor and Estela had found their place in this world, together-- and it was there that they planned for their family’s next steps.

Taylor had invited Diego and Varyyn to join herself and Estela in the hot pools at the base of La Huerta’s snow-covered mountainous region. There were few places she knew more tranquil, more calming. She’d need that. What she and Estela were proposing was… monumental. There would be no resting until they bit the bullet and put it out there so… they would just have to take that leap.

That they’d grow their family together had always been a given, at least once it became certain that Taylor could remain with her loved ones on earth. They’d found their peace, and each had their home was in the arms of the other. The next step was the baby. Estela would carry the child; passing on a little piece of the mother who’d been so cruelly taken from her. Of course, it meant that the other grandparent would carry on through the bloodline as well… but having wrestled with it, Estela concluded that honouring Olivia Montoya was more important to her than eliminating Rourke. It was deemed the safer option; whatever Taylor was, she was not entirely human, and her reproductive capabilities and genetic contribution would be rather more of a gamble. If it came to it, they could try that path-- certainly Taylor liked the idea of being related to another person by blood-- but the simple truth was that Estela’s urge for that physical bond was far stronger.

Diego, they hoped, would be the donor-- and someday a doting tio. In Taylor’s eyes, he was ‘her side of the family’, a part of her being that she loved beyond measure. The thought of creating a person out of Diego and Estela, was just about the most beautiful thing Taylor could imagine. In every way, her family. She’d tried to remain detached and unemotional about the idea; there was no assuming that Diego would feel comfortable in being the donor in the first place-- family was a complicated thing for him, at she respected the hell out of that. But god, it was hard not to let her hopes rise.

The outing had been intended to be relaxed, but even as she soaked in the hot springs, Taylor couldn’t help but seek reassurance to soothe her near-constant attacks of nerves-- just a glance and Estela would give her a look, stoic and sure, and it was enough to get her through another few minutes of what was supposed to be easy; just hanging out with her best friend. Diego, of course, quickly became concerned. No fool, he could see something bubbling beneath the surface, clear as day.

“All right. Spill. Something’s driving you crazy right now.”

Taylor flushed-- though she was red enough from the steaming water that it made little difference to her complexion. “I’m fine. We just… want to talk to you about something. I figured if we just sat you down, all serious, you’d jump straight to ‘dear god, who’s died?’”

“Or… ‘dear god, is Estela an alien too?’”

Both girls laughed.

“I’m sure people have wondered that,” Estela said dryly.

Taylor took Diego’s hands, which helped to steady her own from shaking. Jesus, she just loved him so much. If this wasn’t what he wanted… of course, she’d respect that, but she was certain a little part of her heart would break.

“Tay, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. Get right into it, or you’ll just make yourself more nervous. “Well, you know that Estela and I have been thinking about having a baby together; we’ve been talking about it a lot, and we’re ready. We’re ready to grow our family… make it a little bigger. And… I really, really hoped… I…we wondered if you might like to be the donor for our baby.”

For a few moments, Diego was stunned into silence; his eyes widened as he swallowed what he’d just been told.

“You… want me to…?”

“You should both talk about it,” Estela said. “We know it’s pretty huge. I dunno… maybe you’d be like the baby’s extra special tio. Whatever you wanted the relationship to be.”

Diego hadn’t heard a whole lot of what he’d just been told. He was already falling weeping into Taylor’s arms. There was no question; no question at all. His mind flashed with an imagined future, of something closer to parenthood than he’d dare let his heart long for.

Taylor held him, blinking back tears-- a pointless endeavour. “I love you so much. It’s hard to imagine doing this without you being a big part of it. Whatever you choose, you’re gonna be our baby’s tio. But it would mean the world to me if….”

“This is the greatest honour,” Varyyn said softly, his own eyes misty.

Estela offered him a warm smile. “It means a lot to us both. Obviously, you’ll need to talk this all through-- we’re not expecting an answer right away. This is… a lot.”

“What sort of, uh, time-frame are we looking at?” Diego asked as he sat back next to Varyyn, who wiped away his tears.

“Soon,” Estela said resolutely. She glanced to Taylor, feeling the emotion just radiating off her. This meant the world to Taylor, as Diego did. “We’re both ready for this, it’s just-- if you want to do this-- how soon you’re comfortable. We know this might not happen quickly, so the sooner we can get things started…”

“...The sooner you can get through the rollercoaster of ‘trying’?”

“Yes.”

For a little while, Diego was quiet… stunned, he needed a few moments for his thoughts to catch up with his emotions. Having children was something he and Varyyn had discussed at great length, and the conclusion they’d always begrudgingly come to was that for the foreseeable future, their lives simply couldn’t accommodate that-- not in a way that would be fair to a child. Diego knew that he belonged on La Huerta, but that wasn’t the whole of his life; where his two worlds collided was a mess. There was still that lingering dream, but he knew better than to hang too tight to it. But… in Taylor in Estela’s child, he could have something beautiful; different but beautiful. Wasn’t that just the way his story was meant to be by now?

“Do you have, like, a plan worked out? I guess it’s pretty tough to travel for procedures right now….”

Taylor grinned. “Don’t I always have a plan?”

“Ha. You know I’d never doubt you.”

“Yeah, we want to stay on La Huerta if we can. Otherwise, we’d be able to get permits to go in and out of San Trobida. There’d be quarantine to deal with-- with the way things are in the States, they’re especially cautious about Americans-- but it wouldn’t be an insurmountable hurdle.”

“Have you worked out who you want to actually carry the baby?”

“Estela’s going to be the birth mother,” Taylor said, giving her wife a small smile and reaching to squeeze her fingers. It had been a tough one. She knew there was part of Estela that felt guilt over the decision they’d reached, but it was a decision they had come to together and Taylor would not let there be any doubt where she stood on the matter. “We talked about it a lot. A lot. Figuring out which oven we want to put the bun in was a huge decision, and there was so much to consider. You know how amazing it would be for me to have a blood tie with someone. I’ve longed for that. And I’ve mostly worked through it; I mean, I’m made up of my family-- of you especially. It’s who I am; it might not be about DNA, but it doesn’t mean it’s not as powerful. It’s… part of the reason why I wanted to ask you. In every way that matters to me, you represent my family.”

Again, Diego found himself choked up.

“And for Estela, it was a little different.”

Estela flushed a little, and averted Diego’s eye contact. This was so intensely personal. “If I could pass on a small piece of my mother… I don’t have anything more precious to give my baby. She would have wanted to give my baby everything. This will have to be enough.” She gathered herself, looking back to offer Diego an awkward smile as he gave her a knowing nod. “I was uneasy about what else I would be passing on, but it’s a connection to Aleister and Grace, and maybe cousins someday.”

“We did consider partner IVF,” Taylor said. “That’s where we take the embryo from one mother and implant it in the uterus of the other, but it felt like… a lot. I don’t have a big attachment to the idea of pregnancy-- definitely not as much as ‘Stel does-- and it sounded like a whole lot of intervention. Nothing about my life has been straight-forward, you know? So I got really invested in the idea of doing this as naturally as possible. Just us, at home, building our family together. I know it’s asking a lot as a same-sex couple, but I’d much rather this didn’t have to become something clinical-- not unless it turns out we can’t get pregnant a simpler way.”

Diego swallowed past the hard lump in his throat. He would represent Taylor’s family. He would be a father figure, an honour bestowed by someone who actually saw him and loved him for it all. And he was going to love his best friend’s baby with every fibre of his being.

Concerned, Taylor rushed to reassure. “Just-- take your time, okay? I know this is huge--”

“No,” Varyyn said firmly, and he gave Diego a subtle nod. He knew his husband; he knew that look on his face, that sweet certainty. He’d seen that smile after he’d asked of Diego a very important question one Niala’rei several years ago.

Diego took Taylor’s hand in one of his, and Estela’s in the other… and breathed deep. “Of course-- of course, I’ll do it. More than anything in the world, I want to do this for you.”

The air filled with joyous squeals and the splash of water as the group erupted into embraces and a few more tears. Sandwiched between the two people she loved more than anything else in all the world, Taylor knew that together, they could make this happen.

  __________________________

 August 2022

 Taylor’s heart sank as she looked at the result. Negative. Again.

Estela sighed and looked away. Again, no baby. Even knowing she could have done nothing more, it felt as though she’d let Taylor down when it really mattered. She’d promised her a family. And for herself…. Everything she’d ever wanted… her deepest desire… it was so close, only for them to be repeatedly smacked down by some invisible barrier.

“We’ll try again,” said Taylor quietly, trying to and failing to sound like someone who hadn’t just been crushed. “This is gonna happen for us, okay?”

Despairing, Estela threw her head back, fighting, fighting against the tears that so wanted to come. For several long minutes she wrestled with herself, with the torrent of emotion, before turning back to her wife. Her voice shook when she spoke. “Maybe… maybe we should try with you… it’s not as if I’m not made up of a load of shit that we shouldn’t really want to pass on to an innocent child. I’ve been selfish.”

“First of all; no. Not only are you not remotely a selfish person, you are freaking perfect… to me, you are perfect. Nothing you could give our baby could be anything but that. I love you. And I know how much you want this. I want it to be you. I want us to keep trying.”

Walking away, Estela could feel guilt clawing at her stomach. Of course she wanted to be the one to carry the baby, but if things kept up like this, there wouldn’t be a baby to carry. She sighed again, heavier, and curled up on the couch, knees against her chest. “Taylor, it’s been over a year…”

“We could see another doctor? But I trust what they said; everything’s working fine, it’s just not necessarily gonna happen overnight. I honestly think we’ve just been unlucky so far. And… and maybe it’s taken us a while to get our turkey-baster technique down.” Taylor sat down beside her wife and began massaging her back, feeling tension in every muscle. So much stress. “I know we wanted to do this at home, but we could consider intra-uterine, or even IVF. How about we give it one more month, and then start seriously looking at other options?”

For a long while, Estela said nothing, staring into space as she tried to process the aching disappointment. When she zoned back into reality, Taylor was still there, kneading her back. Another month… that was reasonable.

Taylor eased down the back of Estela’s shirt and pressed kisses between her shoulders. “I know how much you’re hurting right now… I’m feeling it too. Someday soon, we’ll hardly remember this; we’ll be too busy wading through diapers and trying to get a wink of sleep. But for now, I think it’s a comfort food under a blanket situation. We’ll just snuggle up in a love cocoon until whenever it is that we’re ready to put on brave faces.”

They cuddled beneath a blanket on the couch, grateful to have nothing pressing to do nor any people to see.  So much thought, so many long nights of discussion had gotten them to the point of trying, but all the rationale, the planning… all of it mattered little if it just didn’t happen for them. In the end, how it happened wasn’t important; they just needed their family.

The disappointment was not getting any easier, month after month, even as it became expected. They now knew better than to get their hopes up too high. Once again, Taylor would go back to Diego to ask for his help… another round of ‘I’m sorry’s and hugs of consolation, while Estela would back into herself, becoming quiet and reclusive until the pain of the blow dulled. The days, then weeks, would pass, and the couple’s optimism would return as it always did. Together they’d literally undone an apocalypse; so long as they had one another’s hands to hold, they’d soldier through anything.

Estela let herself be held, the touch of her lover offering the only comfort strong enough to keep her from going under. It had been so long now. Doubts, once trifling, became magnified until they were near suffocating. She had gazed upon her reflection in their full-length mirror, taking the time to contemplate while Taylor’s voice floated up from downstairs as she’d filled Diego in with another crushing update. What Estela had seen there was not a nurturer, but a fighter. Her physique, though not perfectly toned as it had once been, was still not exactly cuddly. And the scars… god, there were so many. Wounds from knives, a sword… a freaking dinosaur… her body was just a painting of violence. And that was just the damage that could be seen; far more, far deeper were the scars to her heart and soul. What harm could someone like that do to an innocent baby? Perhaps nature was simply preventing a great cruelty….

“Hey?” Taylor whispered. A quiet grunt was all the reply she received, but Estela looked up, meeting her eyes. “Everything that you are is what’s going to make you a wonderful mom. One of the things… one of the things I’ve been most excited for is just, like… our baby’s gonna say something, do something, and I’ll be like ‘whoa, that’s an Estela thing’. There’s no one else I could even imagine doing this with.”

With a small sob, Estela held Taylor tighter.

“It’s the pain talking, okay? This isn’t anything rational. And I honestly believe this is who you’re meant to be. The first time you held Reggie, I was on the verge of crying because of how right it just was. You held him like you’d never let him fall. Everything you’ve been through has only made you love even harder. And it’s gonna happen; I swear it’s gonna happen… you are going to be such a good mom.”

Estela gently caressed Taylor’s lips with her own, tasting the salt of tears. For her, she’d be strong; it was what she’d always done. It was impossible to be broken for long whilst held in Taylor’s heart and embrace. She could cut through the doubts, just enough to take another step forward.

“Next time…” she said softly.

Taylor nodded and returned the kiss. God, I love you…

“…Next time….”

  __________________________

September 2022

 Pausing her frenzied scribbling of notes, Taylor pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. From her position cross-legged on the couch in their La Huerta home, she heard the creak of the front door.

“You’re home late,” she said, still poring over her notes. “Reggie holding you hostage again?”

Estela draped her arms over Taylor’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, something like that.”

Taylor couldn’t help but laugh. “I think a part of you is kinda flattered that you can’t give the kid to someone else without him dissolving into banshee screams…”

“He knows his tia.” Pausing for a moment, Estela waged a silent debate in her head before making up her mind for sure. “Taylor, I want to take the test…”

Taylor looked up. Spending so much time with their nephew had only heightened Estela’s want for a baby. The both of them adored Reginald; most days they saw him, cuddled him, loved him, effortlessly coming into their roles as aunts. But the presence of Aleister and Grace’s bright-eyed baby boy served to highlight exactly what they were missing. “I know. But if you wait a couple more days, it’ll be more accurate. This whole thing is tough enough without worrying about false negatives.”

Estela sat down opposite Taylor, reaching out for her hands. “I’ve just got a feeling, you know? I feel different.” She took her wife’s hand, and tucked it into her bra. “That’s swollen, right?”

“Possibly? But it’s early, sweetheart. I don’t want you getting carried away with something that might not exist.” Of course, it was easy to see signs when it was wanted so much. Between hanging around Reggie all day, and an upcoming journey back to San Trobida in a few days, the yearning was running wild. It was only natural that Estela wanted to greet her tio with the news that she was expecting, but Taylor feared another disappointment. She stroked Estela’s breast, while her other hand lovingly cupped her face. “You know that even if you are pregnant, it probably won’t show up yet?”

“I know that. I’ll do it again in a few days… I just don’t think I can rest without trying.”

“Okay… but don’t get your hopes up. Do you want me with you?”

Estela shook her head. “It’s all right. Like you said, it’s probably too early to work. I’m just trying to settle the voice in my head.” As she moved to leave, Taylor hugged her tight.

“Love you…”

“Love you.”

Taylor looked back to her notes. Their return to San Trobida would be momentous for her; starting up a much-needed youth counselling service in the area surrounding Estela’s home. It was what she’d studied for, and it was with nervous excitement that she jotted down ideas and sketched out plans. With the grants and scholarships that the Aleister and Estela’s inherited company had to offer, there was the feeling that they might be able to make a real difference in giving the children of the civil war hope for the future. The central inspiration to their work was, of course, Estela’s mother. Each award given out to a student was gifted in her name; it provided a small comfort that Dr. Olivia Montoya’s legacy was one of a promise for a better tomorrow. Taylor found herself distracted. They had fulfillment in one another, in the work they were doing… but the picture remained incomplete. The quiet having lingered for too long, Taylor got to her feet, putting her notes aside.

“Estela? Is everything all right?”

No response. Becoming worried, Taylor started towards the bathroom, expecting that she’d need to break out the emergency cheering-up ice cream, as had been a monthly occurrence since they’d started trying for a baby. She knew she’d been right. It had been foolish to cause such distress when another test would need to be taken a few days later anyway.

She tentatively pushed the door. “’Stel? I’m here…”

Estela was sat trembling on the tiled floor, her eyes wide and wet with tears, seemingly unable to look away from the test stick she held in her hand. Several others lay at her feet.

“…Taylor… I’m…” In her daze, she couldn’t even get the words out.

Tears sprung to Taylor’s eyes and her hand to her mouth. Surely… surely it couldn’t be what she thought it was? But then, that smile… that smile… it said it all.

“Wh-what are you… what are you saying?”

“We’re… we’re having a baby…”

Without knowing how she got there, Taylor was on the floor, Estela’s arms around her as they cried, and laughed, and kissed.

We’re having a baby.

[jadedlavendergemini]

As Promised

Summary: If you were to ask Emma Moore how out of control her life became just before the apocalypse, she would have told you how she had never seen it coming. How she fell for someone that she should have avoided at all cost and how she had no control of any of it in anyway possible. Of course she had no clue of her own ‘destiny’. Michael Langdon x OC

A/N: please forgive me in advance as I had to write this on my phone, my laptop is being a bitch. So I’ve been think pretty heavily on this idea for a fic for a while. And I hope this is as original as can be, I’ve seen some fics with similar Story lines but here’s my twist. And after having a positive week and hearing some great feed back from other Authors, I thought it was the right time to post it. Just let me know if you want to be tagged for any future posts.

Tag list : @7-wonders @guiltyfiend @plymptxn @fallenangeldreamer @fckinsupreme

Part One:

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“Now, keep chanting the spell in your head, loud. Loud like a shout. I want you to keep concentrating on the wick of the candle.” Behold watched as the young girl’s hand hovered, slightly shaking above the candle on her desk. Another few seconds flew by and soon a flame had ignited. “Excellent, Emma!”

She opened her eyes, saw the flame and smiled. “That was a little harder than I thought.”

“Pyrokinesis is a lot harder than others would think. But you, little miss witch, hit it on the first try! Very impressive.” Behold watched as she turned back to the flame, smile slightly faltering. “Your father will be very impressed, you know.”

“I’m sure he will.” She replied, not meeting the instructor’s eyes.

Behold Chablis was one of four instructors at the Hawthorne academy. While her father preferred to teach Emma in most of her lessons, Behold also expressed interest in teaching the young witch. He voiced that she needed the occasional space from her father and that she would blossom into a successful witch with other instructors offering critique. And in honesty, Emma preferred her father or Behold in comparison to Baldwin Pennypacker, who treated Emma as if she were less gifted than the male students.

Tell you what,” he began closing her spell book. “Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off. You’ve been doing so well lately. If you want, you can even go run about the library. It shouldn’t be busy with any of the boys.”

“Really? But my father-“

“Your father will be please to know that you’ve been excelling every spell that I’ve thrown at you this week. Especially one known to be used in the Seven Wonders Test itself. Go on.”

The young girl smiled, grabbing her personal book and a pen. She was out the door when she gave a quick and sweet “Thank you!”

The halls of the secluded wing of the academy were quiet as Emma walked. Due to Hawthorne being an all boys school (Emma being an exception due to her father), she would have zero chances of running into the boy students in this particular area. Unfortunately the library was on the boys turf. Not like any of the boys bothered her, but on occasion one boy, overly cocky and brave would attempt to be a pest. Whether it was crude comments towards her body or abilities, or just constant chatting in her ear. Emma would whip up a good ole headache spell just to chase him away. Other students were too frightened of her father to even talk to her.

As she continues her walk, she worked on pulling her hair from the long braid it was in earlier and used her fingers to wave out any knots. As she approached the almost secluded library, her feet locked in place. Looking up, she was amazed to see a boy, dressed in the typical Hawthorne uniform facing a book shelve from which he was looking for something. She opted to turn around and quietly return to her room and study, but she found her feet to be stuck in the same place. And whatever noises she made in her attempt to leave seemed to trigger the boy. Turning around Emma was met with face that could be described as sculpted by god himself. His blue eyes poured into hers.

“I didn’t know anyone would be here. I’ll just-.” Emma quietly tried to form a sentence trying to make an final attempt to exit before hearing his voice.

“Please don’t leave because of me. I was going to retire for the night. I was just trying to find one book before I went.” His velvet voice sent the hairs on the back of neck stand. He turns back towards the hundreds of books, confusion covered his features as he searches for the correct title.

“I can help, I’m in here pretty much all the time, what are you looking for?” She asks, setting her notebook down on a nearby table.

The boy smiled and gave her the name. He watched as she held her hand up, her fingers slowly caressing each spine of the books. After a minute, she stopped at one before carefully pulling the book from its spot. Her lips formed a small smile as she gently placed the book into his large and expecting hands.

“Well, you seemed to have found that in no time.” He admired, returning her smile, ocean blue eyes not leaving hers. “Divination?”

“Nope, I meant it when I said I’m in here all the time.” She replied, eventually breaking eye contact with the boy. “Pathetic, really.”

“No not at all.” He says. He balances the novel in his left hand, raising his right hand for hers. “I’m Michael. Michael Langdon and you are....?”

“Emma Moore,” she places her smaller hand in his larger one. Taking note in the softness and warmth. It felt familiar and comforting in some way. “You’re the new boy everyone’s been gushing about. So... the alpha?”

Michael lets out a low chuckle. “I wouldn’t say that I’m ‘the alpha’. Just a new boy looking for answers about himself. And I haven’t seen any other witches here, yet. Am I to assume you’re the only one?”

She waits a moment longer until she pulls her hand away from his, taking note in the feeling. She places her hands behind her back. “I’m the only one, my father is an instructor here. Unfortunately, my father can’t stand Cordelia Goode or trust her. So here I am.”

“I wouldn’t call that unfortunate.” He replied. “I had my first lesson yesterday with him. He seems very intense.”

“He can be. But don’t worry he’s harmless.”

Michael smiles before gesturing to the book still in his hand. “Thank you again. Hopefully I’ll be seeing more of you?”

“Of course,” she said, walking past him to retrieve her notebook and pen from where it sat forgotten on the table. “I like to study in the library around this time, less students. If you need to catch up on anything or just feel like hanging out, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll have to take you up on that offer sometime.” Michael smiles before making an exit down the hall. As he made his way down the candle lit corridor, he felt his heart pounding to a rhythm he was unfamiliar with and his hands felt the small sparks of energy she had released just moments ago from their handshake. Taking a quick turn around, he can still see her.

Emma had taken a seat on of the many couches. Her knees pulled towards herself, she was drawing her loosely waved dirty blonde hair into a bun before setting down and taking notes from another book.

Michael turns back. Hands clasped behind his back, with the book of course. And As he continues to walk away, he can’t stop the massive grin that’s on his face. Emma Moore. He felt the connection the moment they touched hands. Hers fit so perfectly in his, like a lost puzzle piece. He breathed in the sweet scent of her when she had moved past him and followed by demonic whispers of her name in his ears. She was the One.

After Michael had left, Emma tried to continue with her study’s. But her mind wandered to the conversation they had just shared. She barely knew the boy yet she already offered to hang around, not something she would normally do when it came to the other students at Hawthorne. And that feeling when their hands touched was odd, never had she felt something so comfortable with a stranger. And ever since his clear blue eyes looked into hers, she felt a slight buzz in the back of her head. Something was different about Michael and she couldn’t quite place it.

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About two hours had past and it was about dinner time. Emma had just begun to place the books back on the shelves and grab her notebook.

“Behold told me I’d find you here.” Spoke her father, John Henry as he made his way into the library. “How was your lesson today?”

“It was okay,” she replied, picking up her belongings and walking over to stand in front of him.

“Okay? Behold said you were able master pyrokinesis. And on the first try!” John Henry said proudly. “And to think you thought you would be better off at Robichaux's.”

The young witch just rolled her eyes. “Beginners luck, I guess. Where were you today? I thought you were going to be teaching me.”

“Well, I got caught up with Ariel today,” he explained, moving past his daughter and taking a seat on the couch. “He’s worked himself up over the new student. I don’t see how he doesn’t see what I do. As much as I want to think we have the Alpha in our midst, I don’t think it’s him.”

“You mean Michael?” She asked.

John Henry’s eyes shot to his daughter. “So you know who. I assume the other students talk very highly of him.” He scoffed.

“Yeah, we met earlier. I helped him find a book. Seemed like a normal warlock to me.” Emma replied, her eyes not meeting her fathers.

“Emma, I want you stay clear of Michael. I don’t have a very good feeling about him.”

“What-“ she attempted to question when he stood from his seat.

“Do I make myself clear?” He interrupted, voice slightly raised.

She looked to him and nodded. “Yes, sir.” She added quietly.

His eyes followed hers, he sighed before placing a hand on her shoulder and began guiding her out of the library. “I Just want you to stay on top of your studies and stay out of trouble. Alright? Let’s grab dinner, I want to hear all about your lesson today.”

[searchingwardrobes]

The Convenient Groom: 5/13

I know Tuesday is posting day for this story, and I also know that I said I was planning to update Start of Time first. Well . . . let’s just say things didn’t go as planned. It’s been a struggle, that’s all I’ll say. This chapter was even supposed to be twice as long, but I got to a place that felt like a natural chapter ending, and these 24 hundred words had been enough of a struggle, I just said “to hell with it.” It probably would have taken me ANOTHER week and a half to get 2k more of this, so I just decided to go ahead and update and just increase the chapter count.

Having said all of that, it was really fun writing Emma and Killian’s dynamic in this, even the awkwardness. I definitely drew on my own experiences in marriage, though whether I’m more like Emma or Killian is up to you to figure out ;) So here we have Emma and Killian their first morning in “their” home as “husband” and “wife”. . .

And shout out to the ladies in the @cssns​ discord chat for their help in this chapter.

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard​ .

Rating: M

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @distant-rose @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite​ @superchocovian​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @vvbooklady1256​ @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @jennjenn615​ @snidgetsafan​

Emma hadn’t expected to sleep well her first night in a new place, so she was surprised when she blinked her eyes open and stretched to see the sun streaming through the window and the digital clock on the nightstand reading a little past 8 am. It was a bit early for her to wake up naturally without an alarm, but she had slept deeply through the night, and she wasn’t used to such a sunny bedroom. She rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom, and then threw her hair up into a messy bun. She contemplated her options. She felt like a visitor, but if she was going to live here for a year, she had to get over that. What would she do on a normal Sunday morning? Well, first she’d make herself a cup of coffee, so she nodded at her reflection in the mirror as if to psych herself up. For what, she wasn’t sure. She just never liked this feeling of newness, this feeling of trying to insert herself into an already established routine. It reminded her far too much of her childhood.

Well, standing there staring at her own reflection wasn’t going to change anything, so she shuffled out of her room, still not fully awake. A yawn cracked her jaw as she entered the kitchen. It was empty. The entire living area was empty, too. The couch looked like it hadn’t even been slept on. She sighed with relief as she filled the coffee pot with water. Maybe he’d gone into his shop or made a quick trip to the store for something they were low on. Whatever the reason for the empty house, it put her at ease.

She was just pouring her coffee when the back door flew open, and a flash of gold fur came flying towards her accompanied by loud barking. She yelped and almost spilled her coffee as a golden retriever shoved his nose into her thigh and licked at her elbow.

“You have a . . . “ but her voice trailed off as she looked up and saw Killian standing in the doorway. Shirtless. She knew her mouth fell open at the sight of him. It was all that chest hair for one, plus the perspiration that glistened on his skin. The June sun had bronzed him, and his chest heaved with every breath he took. His hair was a mess and slightly damp with sweat. The last shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. Emma shook her head to dislodge the thought stuck inside. “A dog. You have a dog?”

Killian winced. “Guess I should have mentioned that, huh? Are you allergic?”

“No . . . “ Emma trailed off, awkwardly patting the golden retriever’s head. “I’ve just never had a pet, that’s all.”

The dog shook his head and then licked her hand, his tail wagging. Emma couldn’t hold back her grimace as she wiped the slobber off onto her shorts.

“Smee!” Killian scolded. He grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled him to his side. “Sit!”

The dog obediently plopped onto his haunches, though his tail beat an excited rhythm on the floor as he continued to watch Emma.

“Smee? As in Peter Pan?”

“Aye,” Killian answered as he got down on his knee beside the dog and began to scratch behind his ears. The dog’s eyes slid closed with obvious pleasure. “He’s my first mate. Aren’t you, boy?”

Emma smiled despite herself. As long as Killian took care of the dog and cleaned up after him, she figured it would be okay. He obviously kept the place spotless. Plus, what was she going to do, demand he get rid of a dog he clearly adored for the sake of their temporary, fake marriage?

Killian stood and retrieved a dog bowl from the kitchen’s tiny pantry. He scooped some dry dog food out of a plastic bin under the sink, then set it down by the back door for the dog, who was already slurping water out of a matching dish. She’d somehow missed the bowl and the mat it rested upon. Snoopy was emblazoned across it, the cartoon character’s nose in a dog dish and the word “Suppertime!” printed in cheery letters.

“Nice dog mat.”

Killian chuckled and scratched behind his ear. “Um, that was a gift from Anna last Christmas. She thought it was funny.”

“I see,” Emma nodded, taking another sip of her coffee and trying to look anywhere but at his abs.

“Um . . . so . . . if it’s okay, I was going to shower -”

“Oh, well . . . yeah. That's fine, just . . . could I change real quick first? I was going to get a run in, too.”

“Sure,” he told her with a nod.

Emma set her coffee mug down on the counter and headed for the bedroom. How long would it be this awkward? She fished a pair of Under Armour shorts with a sports bra to match from the suitcase that she had slid under the bed the night before. She’d packed extra clothes, thank God, knowing that they wouldn’t feel like unpacking right away. They, as in she and Walsh. She was supposed to be waking up in that yellow bungalow with Walsh. She pushed the thought from her mind as she pulled the sports bra over her head, grunting like she always did as she started to maneuver the tight fabric over her boobs - never an easy task. She flushed as she imagined the possibility of Killian walking in on her accidentally. One boob stuffed into spandex while the other hung free, her arms twisted in bra straps wasn’t the way she wanted him to see her in a state of undress.

Not that she wanted him to see her undressed. It was just inevitable, right? Living together in this tiny house for an entire year?

Or maybe she’d watched too many rom-coms.

When she returned to the kitchen, Killian was leaning against the counter guzzling a bottle of water. He was still shirtless.

What did he think this was? A photo shoot for GQ? The words “put a damn shirt on” were on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them back. She ignored him and reached around him to retrieve an empty water bottle from the cabinet he’d shown her yesterday. As she did, she glanced in the sink and saw her coffee mug empty, washed, and upside down on the drying rack.

“You threw out my coffee?”

He blinked as he swallowed more of his water. “Aye, it was left out on the counter.”

“I wasn’t finished with it!”

“You said you were going for a run!”

“So?”

“So, it would have been cold. Unless you plan on drinking coffee while running.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I know both those things. I would have warmed it up in the microwave later.”

He wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, not to me, so in the future could you please leave my coffee alone?”

His brows rose. “And just how long is your coffee off limits? Until lunch? All day? Until mold starts to grow?”

“Until I say so!” she snapped and whirled away from him and his stupid neat freak tendencies and his stupid animated eybrows and stupid blue eyes and stupid sexy chest hair. She practically stomped over to her treadmill, not caring that she was being slightly immature.

“You’re running there?”

Emma groaned. “So you’re not only a coffee expert, but a running expert too?”

He sauntered over - still no shirt - and inclined his head out the window before them. “I just don’t see why you would use that contraption when you’ve got this gorgeous beach.”

She gritted her teeth as she punched in the settings for her run. “Sand is bad for your ankles and knees.”

“Not if you run right at the water’s edge.”

The machine started her warm up, and Emma began to jog. “Then my shoes get wet.”

Killian leaned against the handrail of her treadmill and gave her his stupidly cocky grin. “What’s wrong with getting a little wet?”

Then his stupid tongue darted across his lips. Emma jerked her gaze away as she hit her stride. She refused to react to his innuendo. He pushed away from the treadmill and began to walk away, but then he threw one last comment over his shoulder.

“I bet I’ll get you running on that beach before long, Swan.”

“Doubtful,” she bit out.

Stupid, stupid man.

**********************************************

Killian drew his arm back then tossed the stick across the beach. Smee barked happily as he chased after it. Killian sighed as he watched the dog chase the stick, reviewing his argument with Emma in his head once again.

He was a neat freak, he knew this about himself. He and Milah had even gotten into arguments because of it. Why did he have to make a federal case out of Emma’s coffee? Washing out the mug was something he had honestly done on autopilot. Too many years of living alone, he supposed. When Emma brought it up, he should have apologized, but he was also a stubborn man. Something about that flash of anger in her eyes riled him up, and honestly, seeing her so vexed at him had been a major turn on. Fighting over coffee felt so domestic, like something a real married couple would do.

So he’d picked a fight. Picked a fight and then audaciously flirted, knowing it would get her hackles up all the more.

Smee was back with the stick, and Killian took it and praised the dog. Smee began to jump around eagerly and bark, clearly not finished with the game, so Killian threw it again.

After he’d gotten out of the shower, trimmed his beard, and dressed, he’d gone back out into the kitchen to make amends with her. Emma, however, had breezed past him saying she needed a shower, too. She’d left a second cup of coffee on the countertop, but he wasn’t foolish enough to spar with her a second time. She’d also left a dirty plate covered in toast crumbs on the kitchen table and a knife smeared with jelly balanced on the edge of the sink. Why did people do that? Kristoff did the same thing, and it was driving Liam insane. “Just in case I want another sandwich” - that had been Kristoff’s explanation. Killian wondered what Emma’s excuse was. He’d steered clear of her coffee, as she’d requested, but he’d cleaned the plate and knife. He’d tried to sit down with his own coffee and a book, but it felt as if the running water of Emma’s shower was echoing through the house. He had to get out.

He usually enjoyed Sundays, but today the hours of leisure stretched ahead of him filled with him and Emma awkwardly dancing around one another.

After Smee retrieved the stick, something distracted him, and he swerved to Killian’s left. The dog dropped the stick and started to bark happily. Killian turned to see what had him so excited. Emma was coming down the steps of the back porch.

She was dressed in navy shorts and a white peasant blouse. Her hair was plaited loosely over one shoulder, and the wind blew strands of it becomingly across her face. She would be the picture of weekend relaxation if not for the tense way she hugged her arms across her middle or the slight hunch of her shoulders. She ignored the dog bouncing around her for attention, and came to an abrupt stop at the end of the crushed seashell path. He jogged across the dunes towards her.

“What’s this doing here?” she asked once he was within earshot. Her eyes had gone wide, her lips rigid, as she pointed at the arch just above her head.

“Well,” he answered, shoving both hands in the pockets of his shorts, “your people had it brought over with everything else. I guess this is where they were told to put it.”

He bit back his temptation to give the word “people” sarcastic bite. Emma groaned and rubbed at her temple.

“I forgot. You’re right, I told them to put it in our backyard.”

Killian nodded as he rocked back on his heels. “You just didn’t expect it to be this back yard.”

Emma actually winced and looked apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Killian. I just snapped your head off for something that isn’t even your fault. It’s just seeing this arbor -”

“No need to explain,” he quickly cut in. As much as she drove him crazy at times, and was even downright rude, he had to remember that her world had been thrown completely off kilter. None of this was easy.

Her shoulders finally relaxed, and she gave him a tentative smile. She tilted her head up to look at the wedding arbor, then she rested her hand gently upon one of the swans he had painstakingly carved.

“It’s so beautiful,” she told him softly. Her hand stilled, and she turned to look him directly in the eye. “I never thanked you for the time you spent on this.”

He stepped closer, resting his hand opposite hers and leaning forward. “It was my pleasure.”

She ducked her head and fiddled with her braid for a moment before lifting her gaze confidently to him once again. “I came out here to ask what you were doing for lunch.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, I hadn’t given it much thought.”

“Well,” she said, shuffling her feet back and forth, “I was making myself a sandwich with the stuff left over from the honeym - from the trip - and I thought you might be hungry too, so . . . “ She blew a strand of hair out of her face with a slight grunt of annoyance. “Look, I can’t cook much besides scrambled eggs and pancakes, but I do know how to slap a sandwich together. It’s on the back porch if you want it.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and headed straight back from whence she came, Smee bounding behind her. Killian shook his head, feeling like he almost had whiplash from the mercurial Emma Swan. She was as mysterious as the sea - still as glass one moment and volatile the next.

And God help him, he loved the ride.

[whumpsblog]

The Story of Hanna Light

Day Two: Whipping

To the people out there who have been reblogging, liking, and commenting on my work . . . THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! Knowing people like reading what I write really keeps this bitch motivated! If you like what you are reading and don’t want to miss any posts, PM me and I will add you to the Tag List!! 

Tag List: @justplainwhump , @eatyourdamnpears

<<< Chapter Three 

Chapter Five >>>

🚨 Human muzzling, whipping, and bondage, creepy whumper🚨

Connor returned the next morning to Hanna laying on the bare mattress, curled up on her side and sound asleep. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her, and set the platter of hot pancakes down next to him. He sat there, watching her silently as she slept; listening to her small breaths and watching her chest as it rose and fell slowly. Her wild curly hair fell over her muzzle and around her face in a beautiful wonderful mess and he was tempted to kiss her.

She looked so beautiful like that; silent and calm and peaceful. He reached out for her and shifted the bed slightly, which woke Hanna with a paniked start. She flipped over grabbed his wrists and glared up at him through bleary alert eyes.

Her immediate defiance made his heart thrum with joy. He smiled softly down at her. “Good morning Hanna Banana. How are we doing today?”

She glared at the pet name which made the crows feet in the corners of her eyes wrinkled. Another heart squeeze on Conner's end followed by another small smile. He gestured to the muzzle. “Roll over. Let's take that off of you.”

She hesitated, wondering why he was being nice.

“Unless . . . you don’t want it off?”

Her gaze narrowed but she slowly rolled onto her side. She had spent the entire night fighting to get the damn contraption off and if someone was offering to remove it she was going to let them. Conner inserted the key and unlocked the latches which he then loosened. When the wrenched device was finally gone Hanna swung her legs over the side of the bed and moved quickly to the bathroom. Conner followed closley behind.

She threw the chewed white block of soap into the toilet and spit into the sink violently. The cuppings of her molars were packed with the bitter waxy remains and she dug them out using her nails and the brush set out for her on the counter. Her irritated gums stung as water washed over them and upon further inspection she noticed that they were red and bleeding slightly. She cringed and rinsed the flavor out, but no matter how many times she washed her mouth out, the bitter aftertaste remained.

As Hanna tried to get the remaining soap out of her mouth, Conner watched her through the door frame. His eyes traveled from her small bare feet up her legs which were stong and full from years of living on the streets. His eyes went to her ass which was dressed in a pair of gym shorts and then to the bare spot on her back that wasn’t covered by her white tank top. She was the perfect combination of sexy and strong, a diamond in the rough that only he could polish to perfection.

With a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, Hanna pulled her beach curls up into a high ponytail and suddenly turned, catching Conner by surprise and catching a glimpse of him eyeing her ass. They both froze. Hanna took the toothbrush out of her mouth. “Can I help you?” she inquired with toothpaste in the corners of her mouth.

Another heart squeeze to Conner’s heart. He walked out of the bathroom, giving her some space, and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I brought pancakes,” he offered. “You haven’t eaten in almost two days, you must be starving.” He pushed the pancakes to the edge of the bed. Hanna, who was done in the bathroom and standing in its doorway, eyed them skeptically.

“Are they poisoned?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He smirked. “No. They aren’t poisoned.”

She hesitated for several seconds before snatching one off the plate. She may have been his temporary prisoner and she may have disliked his company but she wasn’t stupid. Starving herself wouldn’t do her any good; she needed to keep her energy up if she was going to escape. She eyed it once more before folding it in half and taking a bite.

The taste was unbelievable, warm and vanilla-y and nutty. She recognized the taste immediately and forced the mashed mixture down. The sweetness turned bitter and foul on her tongue, choking her.

"Come on, I made them myself special for you. They're Vanilla Walnut. I know that’s how you like them."

Her stomach clenched with nerves and disgust. “How’d you get this recipe?” she demanded although she was not sure she wanted the answer. “How did you know about these?”

The recipe belonged to Zero, her best friend, her lover, and her confidante. This was his exact recipe and tasting them opened the floodgates. Every painful memory overwhelmed her: his smile, his smile, his touch, his taste and his smell. He had been at Safe Haven when it had been raided and she hadn’t seen him since that terrible night. They had been fighting together side by side until she was hit behind the head and knocked unconscious.

He smirked. "I know more about you than you think Hanna," he said softly. "In fact Hanna, I’ve had a mole in your precious little Safe Haven since the very beginning. And you never - even - noticed."

Hanna shook her head in disbelief. "No. No you're lying." She walked to the window and placed her hands on the sill. Broken glass bit into her skin.

“If I am, then tell me this. Does your ankle still hurt when you run?”

Hanna turned to him as her stomach tied itself in knots. “What?”

“I only ask because I know about that incident you had while sparing with Logan last fall. You know. The one where you broke your ankle after he tackled you,” he winced. “I bet it does doesn’t it?”

Hanna reeled, confused and scared by his words as she realized the truth behind his original statement. She turned to him. "What? Why would you have a mole in Safe Haven?"

He smiled. "Let me respond with a question of my own.” He moved towards her and took a seat on the edge of the bed across from her. “Do you know why people age wine Hanna?"

Hanna looked at him, perplexed. His question wasn’t helping her nerves.

He smirked. "People age wine Hanna to improve its quality. Only one percent of all the wine in the world is meant to be aged, while the remaining ninety-nine percent is perfectly fine to drink as is." He paused. "Omegas are kind of like wine Hanna. Ninety-nine percent of them are perfectly fine as is, while the other remaining one percent,” he gestured to Hanna, “needs to be aged to reach its full potential." He approached her and patted her on her head. "My family has been protecting you and the other Big Six for the past ten years, knowing that the profits of our reward would only sweeten with time."

“But why would your family care about us? What made us so special?”

He looked at her, perplexed about her confusion. “Hanna. You escaped out of a maximum security facility at age ten with the rest of the Big Six. You remained free and then started Safe Haven only a couple years later. Imagine hearing that as an Alpha. Learning about some young plucky teenagers gathering forces in the streets and liberating people of their kind.”

“So, my family kept the Big Six safe. We told the Slavers that you were under our protection and that you couldn't be touched. Slavers protested of course, until they were told the plan . . . to wait a couple of years till the fruit ripened and was ripe for the picking.”

“And they listened to you?”

“Refusing our demands would result in them losing their largest financial supporter,” he said flatly. "Of course they listened."

“So your family business is -”

“Omega trafficking. We support the Slavers with equipment and supplies and in return we get a portion of the profits from each auction.”

“Your whole family?”

He nodded. "My great grandfather was the first Alpha to start trafficking Omegas. When he died he passed the business to my grandfather, who passed it down to my mother, who then passed it down to me.”

Hanna shook her head. She couldn't bear what he was telling her. How many Omegas had his family imprisoned and sentenced to a life of misslery and prostitution. And how many of those Omegas died?

She found herself thinking about her family and the Omegas she knew from Safe Haven. They were people with hopes and dreams and aspirations. Some of them wanted to start futures for themselves and have actually lives on the surface world. And now . . . that wasn't going to happen. She thought of all of the Omegas before her that had met the same fate as a result of Conner and his family, and she couldn't stomach it.

"What's wrong Hanna? Is something the matter?"

She couldn't contain herself. “Your kind disgusts me.”

“My kind?” he almost laughed. “But I brought you pancakes!”

“Fuck your damn pancakes!!” she shrieked. “Any human who owns another to compensate for being powerless is disgusting! And people who make a living off it . . .” She was seething.  “You're disgusting! You and your whole family! You’re all -- you’re all fucking monsters!”

The room fell still for several seconds, with Hanna standing above him royally pissed and Conner sitting on the edge of the bed taking the lashes of her tongue silently. He looked down at his strong veiny hands like he was examining the invisible blood on his hands for the first time. “You think I’m . . . a monster?” he breathed. He sighed and looked back up to Hanna.

His grey eyes were cold and unyielding, lacking all of the warmth that they had previously contained. They squinted at her, eying her like she was a challenge. He rose from his seat and approached her slowly and silently. Hanna took a step back, and then another. Her heel connected with the wall and she panicked. She had nowhere else to go.

He towered over her smirking, and then rested a strong veiny hand on top of her head. It rested there, on top of her high bun, before grabbing it and using her hair to yanking her forward.

He grabbed her by the back of her neck with his other hand and it wrapped around her throat with a strength that caused her to cry out surprised.  She clawed at his fingers desperately as she was dragged out of the room, down a long hall that was decorated by large old paintings and a long red rug, till he got to the end where there was an elevator. He threw her into it and she stumbled against the back wall where she leaned against the wall. She glared at him as he pressed the button for the basement floor and the doors shut.

"You know Hanna,” he said with his back turned to her. “I tried to be nice. I gave you warnings, and then I reinforced my warnings with a light punishment, hoping that would be enough to teach you how to behave yourself. But clearly your punishments need to be more severe."

"If you're looking for me to be your good little toy," she seethed, "forget it. It won't happen.”

He turned to her slowly with an amused smirk and eyes that gleamed. "You will. Eventually. I just have to teach you how."

The elevator stopped dropping and the doors parted, revealing two large men dressed in black suits. “Take her and get her into position twelve. Don't hurt her. I’ll join her in a couple minutes.”

He stepped to the side and let the men take Hanna away. They twisted her arms behind her back till Hanna was sure they were trying to dislocate her shoulders, and took her to the dungeon. Hanna was moved to the center of the room where a set of leather cuffs were bound around her wrists. The cuffs were connected to long chains which Hanna discovered were bolted securely to the ceiling. When they finished they left Hanna standing alone in the center of the dirt floored room with cobble walls.

Conner entered holding a coiled bull-whip in his hand.

Hanna grimaced.

He played with the whip casually as he approached Hanna. Her menacing stare never wavered, not even when he looped the whip around her neck and pulled her towards him.

“Just remember. This is all because of you Hanna. I wouldn’t be forced into doing this if you could watch your language.”

Hanna bit down on her molars. "Go fuck yourself."

His smirk turned sour and he walked behind her. Hanna resumed fighting against her restraints until she was stopped by the sound and bite of the whip snapping across her shoulder blades. Her body stiffened and arched at the unimaginable pain as a crisp line of fire blossomed across her skin.

Connor delivered another before she can regain her composition.

Crack!

She cried out as the braided leather bit the outside of her right thigh. She twisted and curled her leg off the ground in a sadistic pained dance.

Crack!

A solid blow across the small of her back ripped a scream out of her lungs. It cut through her white tank top and blood seeped through, dripping down her back and bleeding into the hem of her black shorts.

Crack!

Hanna bit down on her tongue to suppress the next scream.

Crack!

She tasted blood.

Crack!

Crack!

She let out an agonizing cry and fell forwards against her chains. She didn't want to see him completely defeated, so she wrapped her hands around the chains for support.

Crack!

It flicked against her left shoulder and Hanna felt the flesh split. Think about something else. Think about something else.

Crack!

She couldn't. The pain and sound of the cracking whip consumed her thoughts.

Crack!

That one wrapped around her hip and bit the soft tender flesh above her pelvis. She pulled and twisted against the chains before dropping. Sweating and painting, she rested her head against her arm. Her previously white shirt was covered in red blotches and dark red lines. Some of the overlapping lashes shredded and ribboned the fabric and Conner could see her bloody torn skin beneath.  

Conner rounded her and used the blunt end of the whip to lift her face up. She opened her eyes and looked up at him with unfocused eyes. "Stand up Hanna," he said. "Get on your feet. The lashes won't stop till I hear an apology."

Hanna whimpered. She didn't want to apologize, but she didn't want this to continue either. Conner resumed his position. Slowly, she pulled herself upright to a standing position. She could do this. She just had to stay strong. She could stay strong.

Crack!

The lashes resumed with even more ferocity and Hanna screamed.

Crack!

Her ankle.

Crack!

The back of her left leg below her ass.

Crack!

Her cheek.

Crack!

Her right shoulder blade again.

Crack!

The back of her left leg.

"Stop!" She screamed. "Please for the love of  . . ." Her breaths came to her in quick wheezy gasps that failed to provide her oxygen. "Please stop." she begged. Tears fell freely down her face and dampened her bare feet.

"That doesn't sound like an apology Hanna," said Connor, preparing another lash.

She whimpered.

"What are you sorry for Hanna?"

Hanna hesitated.

Crack!

Hanna screamed as the whip bit her ankle. "Swearing!! I'm sorry for swearing!"

"Are you going to do it again?" he asked.

She hung her head in exhaustion. "No . . . I won't."

Conner rounded her and grabbed her by her sweat soaked hair. He pulled her head back ever so slightly and Hanna winced. "You made it to sixteen lashes Hanna. If you go against your promises again, I won't stop till I get to fifty."

He dropped her head and Hanna listened as he walked to the door and left without another word. Leaving Hanna, covered in welts, lacerations and sweat, hanging by her chains and crying silently in pain.