#he clearly thinks of her as something to own

[entitled-fangirl]

How to liven a marriage.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SO MUCH SMUT

Summary: Cregan and the reader's marriage is dull, purely for duty. When the reader finds a book in the Winterfell library depicting just how pleasureful a man and wife's sex life can be, she takes it upon herself to introduce such a thing.

Warnings: p in v, fingering, making out, washing bruises (from a battle), riding, studying the scientific parts of a vagina, foreplay, etc

A/n: based on a reallllly good ask. I think this is my longest fic and I have no regrets. Except that I haven't proofread it yet. That's a later problem.

Masterlist

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She felt her stomach drop to her feet when she saw the drawings in the book. Her cheeks became a flushed red, completely embarrassed to have stumbled on something so… private. She shut the book with a thud and cringed at the loud sound that echoed in the library.

She heaved the book back onto the shelf and brushed off her skirt, as if trying to completely brush off the experience itself.

Once she had pulled herself together, she decided she'd had enough of the library. Enough scavenging and prodding at the books. Especially one like that.

Be even so, she felt herself stop halfway to the door.

She was a married woman. The act of sex itself is no crime to a married woman. Nor studying various positions of it. 

It felt dirty to do so. Very wrong. Like her old Septa would appear and scold her ardently over it.

But her Septa wasn't there.

No one was there.

Just her and the book.

…

Cregan was sure to arrive within the fortnight. 

She wished to be happy about all of it. The return of her husband was good. It had been a tough few weeks to rule without him. After all, she was still new to the North.

But she couldn't find it in her.

Cregan was harsh and cold. Never happy, never caring. Duty and honor. How the words were stamped across their foreheads.

They had married out of duty, and that is all they had of one another. They were awkward and lacked the eagerness to spend time with one another. 

She had heard stories of great marriages of love that whisked away all problems and only left a man, a wife, and their love. That was not this marriage.

So the return of Cregan meant the return of a duty that she had started to dislike: Their attempts to conceive. She knew once she gave him a few sons, they would be rid of the need to conceive, but that day was far away.

And Cregan surely drew closer to Winterfell.

…

Perhaps the book- Forget about the book, she told herself. A proud man like him would never agree to look at such a thing.

Her fingers grazed over one of the drawings as she read the contents next to it. It was confusing to try and follow such a strange topic, but still she tried.

Women may experience intense pleasure of their own. It is most easy to start at the clitoris. It is located above the vaginal opening. A gentle circled rubbed at the area w

"What are you reading, my lady?"

She slammed the book shut with a thud and a gasp, her head snapping to the side to see Winterfell's maester standing with a curious expression. She held a hand over her chest. "Do not sneak up on a woman."

"Forgive me, my lady. I thought myself being rather loud in my steps." He gave her a chuckle. "It seems I was wrong."

Her shock was turning to embarrassment as she tried to slide the book further behind her back on the table that she leaned again. "You're forgiven, just go."

"Ah, I've come for a reason," he countered. "News of Lord Stark's return is at hand. He should be here by sunset tomorrow, gods willing."

She nodded, trying desperately to get him back out. "Right. How fortunate. Thank you. You may go."

"My lady, if I may," he continued. "You look rather flushed. Are you feeling ill?"

"NO!" She cringed at her outburst. "No, I'm quite well, thank you."

The maester gave her a strange look. He clearly didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to push it. "Right. If you need anything, only say the word." He dipped his head and hurried off, closing the door behind him.

Her entire body relaxed at his leaving. She ran a hand over her face in an attempt to physically remove the heat from her cheeks.

She had been so close to getting caught with this.

Too close.

When she was sure there weren't footsteps in the corridor, she turned back, opening the book once more and reading further.

It gave her an idea.

She grabbed the book, carrying it to Cregan's desk and setting the heavy thing down. Her fingers sprawled over the page once again, careful to not continue the tear that went down the side. She slowly sat down as she continued to read.

A gentle circled rubbed at the area will increase pleasure during the act of sex.

She looked over her shoulder to check one last time before her hands began to bring her skirt up. The fabric was quickly pooled around her stomach and her legs were exposed. Her right hand shook as it brushed the small piece of fabric still guarding her most intimate parts from the cold air.

But the most important part of a female's genitalia to understand is the vagina. Located between the clitoris and the anus lies the vagina. Though different in looks, all women's perform quite alike.

Her breath caught as she gained her last bit of bravery, and her fingers pushed the fabric to the side. The cold air made her hiss, as did the coldness to her fingertips.

The labia majora protects the vagina from foreign particles, the labia minora after that. 

Her fingers explore the very area, the cold digits skimping past the skin until she knew her middle finger grazed the inside of her vagina. 

She should have known the territory well. It was her own body and still she found herself unsure of where everything laid.

And above all else, she felt filthy for it. This was for her husband, not her own gain. Her own pleasure has nothing to do with making an heir. But she wouldn't stop now.

Her eyes grazed over the page again as she pushed her middle finger deep inside her. It caught once or twice, the lack of moisture causing a small discomfort. But once her second knuckle disappeared into her, she recalled the feeling. 

She remembered this now: the feeling of something inside of her. Though, this was one finger and nowhere near as intruding as her husband's cock. And only then did she begin to understand how a man could fall apart from this feeling. Her walls seemed to not want her finger to part from her. She pumped it in and out a few times before daring to turn the page with her left hand.

…

Cregan returned as promised, with the sun beginning to set behind him- though it was covered with the thick clouds of the North. 

Standing on the stairs to the castle was his wife. He had long awaited to return home. To continue his duties to her? No. But home meant warmth and small comforts and he would take that every day he could.

He dismounted his horse and took slow steps to her. He forced a small smile, more for the sake of everyone else than the two of them. "My lady."

She gave a polite nod of her head when he grew close. "You've returned safely."

"I have." His gaze wandered around the area in an attempt to ease the awkwardness.

"I… I've missed you," she muttered.

His eyes looked to her and his brows pulled together. "Have you?"

"Well…" She looked down at her shoes. Was that even true? She didn't miss him. Not really. Well, she did in a way. Waiting to talk about the book. "Well, I found myself wanting to be with you as soon as I could." She swallowed and looked up at him. "Would that be considered missing you?"

" 'Being with me,' " he repeated as he thought it over. He squinted in contemplation before trying to clarify. "As in speaking with me or… other things?"

Her face flushed and her eyes looked right back down to the ground. 

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. His tongue ran along his teeth before clicking as he came to a conclusion in his mind. "An hour. My chambers."

It was a soft command. He never ordered her around. And if she chose to voice an opinion ever, she knew he'd consider it. He was a forceful man, but not like that. 

But when she made no motion against it, he chuckled. One of his hands came up to her chin and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "An hour. I'll even wash for you first." He pressed an emotionless kiss to her lips and stepped away, grabbing his horse's reins and beginning to speak to one of the other men.

An hour. That felt like too long to sit with her thoughts. But she'd manage. Somehow.

…

An hour later, she opened the door with her heart beating wildly. 

But upon seeing what laid inside, it died down.

Cregan laid in the large copper tub, his head laid back against the rim as he bathed: fast asleep.

She leaned on the door and studied him for a while. How easily the rough man became just as soft as anyone else. He seemed… at peace for once. That large crease that always laid between his brows was gone as he softly snored.

It's hard to make an heir like this. But he'd journeyed so far, and something like sex seemed dumb when he needed rest this badly.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her, careful not to make a heavy sound. Her steps were quiet and careful, quickly guiding her to him and now she kneeled at his side. 

Her fingers dipped into the water. It was beginning to grow cold.

And judging by the light pruning of his fingers, he'd been there for a while.

Cregan often took his baths alone. He always refused the help of servants, even his wife, rather wishing to have this as his alone time.

She grabbed the cloth that lay over the side- unused, judging by its dryness, and dipped it in, beginning to lightly trail it over his chest. 

She took the time to study every scar across him. There were many and she had no doubt that he'd won each battle they belonged to. She had seen him sparring- she knew how formidable she was with a sword in his hand.

The water ran down his chest and dripped into the tub again. The sounds echoed in his room. Each seemed loud compared to the utter silence of the air.

She moved to the other side of the tub and cleaned him, now noticing the deep cut on his shoulder. Deep purple and green bruising laid around it. It looked quite painful. When she ran the cloth over it, he hissed and his eyes finally opened.

He took in the room, a sharp gaze that would make most men fearful. Once they set on her and he completely came to, they softened slightly. She saw the way they flickered from her eyes to the cloth in her hand. She waited for him to inevitably shoo her from the room.

"Has it been an hour?" He quietly asked. "I apologize. How rude of me." He pulled the rag from her hand. "And I've made you feel as if you have to clean me to make up for time lost that I now owe you. Well, sit and I will hurriedly finish, wife."

His words and movements caught her off guard. She was unsure what to say. 

"Go on," he motioned with a hand. "Sit and wait for me. Like you so patiently have."

"No," she finally countered. "Y- your shoulder. It looks painful. Let me."

Her hand grabbed for the rag, brushing his. The two seemingly froze in the moment. Cregan's deep eyes stared up at hers, as if taking her in for the first time. Finally, he shook his head. "It won't take long."

"I know. So, let me," she argued again.

He looked down to their hands, their fingers touching just barely. Slowly, his grip loosened and she was able to slip the cloth from him.

Silently, she took the acceptance and began to wash him again. She took extra care around the bruises now. When the cloth ran over them, the fingers of her other hand followed and paused. "Does it hurt?" She softly asked.

Cregan's eyes were glued to the water now, his fingers dipping in and out and watching the droplets fall back into the tub. "They always do."

"It didn't go well, I take it?"

He held water in his palm, cupped carefully as he studied it. "It went very well."

"This is very well?"

He tilted his hand and let the water escape down his arm with a sigh. His head tilted and he finally looked at her with a firm gaze. "The Wall is harsh. Even on its best days."

Having him stare at her so deeply made her chest flutter and she suddenly imagined how he might look at her while doing things from the book in the library. 

She dared a thought, bringing a hand up to his cheek. He watched her carefully. To think that she did this of affection was a ridiculous one. He must have something on his face.

But when her palm rested there, on his cheek, he began to think differently. It brought a strange feeling to his stomach.

Her hand rested there for a while and the two were unmoving. But when she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, he pulled his head away.

Her fingers pulled to her palm as she accepted the rejection and blinked away all thoughts. "Lean forward," she gently commanded.

He raised no fuss, pulling himself forward with a small groan. No doubt his muscles protested with each movement.

She focused now, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his back flexed and contracted each time he moved. 

The cloth ran across his back and few times, and he eventually sighed at the feeling. Her hand somehow applied just enough pressure to his aching back. And when she noticed and focused just above his shoulder blades, he let out an audible groan.

"Tense, Lord Stark?" She almost teased.

He didn't catch the teasing part though, too relaxed in this state. He only nodded and prayed that she'd continue.

She abandoned the cloth and began to fully massage his shoulders with her hands. It put the powerful man in a relaxed trance, and not one he cared to come out of anytime soon.

"I've been thinking," she spoke. "Well, do you think that… " she hesitated. "That maybe… maybe there's more to conceiving a child than… what we've been doing?"

There was a silence. It was suffocating and she was sure that she'd said the wrong thing. She would have swore he hadn't heard her, but the sudden tension in his back said so.

Finally, his head turned just a bit, revealing half of his face to her and he barely looked over his shoulder. "I think," he drew out, "you've been reading."

Oh. So he knew of the book.

She pulled away, as if burned and began to wring her hands as her nerves took over. "It was there… and… And I only thought… maybe-"

He laid back again the tub again to look at her. "Is that something you want?" He calmly asked.

Her mouth went dry as she tried to speak an answer. 

"Wife," he voiced a little sharper. "I asked you a question."

She forced herself to take a deep breath. "Yes."

The corner of his lips tugged up and leaned his head back against the rim as before, closing his eyes. "So be it."

"W-" she stopped herself before creating any problems she didn't need. He'd agreed, and that was that.

With her confused presence, he opened his eyes and lulled his head to the side. "I'll apologize again for taking our time." His hand came out of the water to her, mimicking the way she had cupped his cheek early. "But after the feast?" His thumb ran over her lips, catching and pulling down her bottom lip. "You are mine to have."

…

She remembered something in the book about this. Foreplay, she recalled. Like dangling a bone in front of a dog and seeing the way it would drool in anticipation. 

Like quick glances, small touches, things that would signal to a partner that you wished to engage in sexual activities. 

Doing such things during a feast felt scandalous. But it filled her heart with a fire that she knew was traveling between her legs as well.

She had started it, brushing her hand with his as they ate. Then wiped at a bit of wine that had dripped down his chin. Then even daring to brush a hand across this thigh.

But that was earlier. Now, across the room from each other, she took other tactics. 

When she wasn't looking at whoever she spoke to, she looked at Cregan. Her eyes would wander from his face to his feet, a long gaze that took its time, and enjoyed every moment of it. And he was quick to notice it. When she was caught and his eyes were on her, she quickly looked away in mock embarrassment.

It worked wonderfully.

The rest of the evening, she felt his eyes on her and when she'd look back, he'd have a look that said he was ready to devore her whole. She felt her core almost drip with the adrenaline rushing through her.

Now, to act on it.

She caught his gaze again, keeping it and taking slow steps to the high table, hoping he'd get the hint to follow her. 

And perceptive he was.

She stood in front of her chair and reached down to her cup when his chest warmed her back. His hand reached over hers and seized her chalice as his voice spoke lowly in her ear. "Bid them goodnight. We are retiring."

She craned her neck to try to look at him. "We are the hosts-"

"-two minutes, and I'll carry you myself if I must."

His warmth disappeared, and he set her cup back down to the table.

A wide grin came to her lips.

…

The moment the door to his chamber closed, he pushed her against the wall. His lips chased her with a heat like she was the air he needed to breathe. His hands pulled at the fabric on her shoulders, so eager to undress and ravish her.

Her hands did the same, pulling at the strings of her doublet. But it was hard to do so through Cregan's heavy hands tugging her this way and that. 

Soon enough, cold air rose goosebumps across her skin. Cregan paused, only for a moment, letting his eyes wander over her. And for the first time, lust was evident in his pupils.

His lips consumed hers once more, his tongue delving past her teeth to hurriedly explore. His hands and hers both pulled at his clothes. 

With his chest bare, he deemed that enough for now. He picked her up and took her to the bed, dropping them both to it and holding himself above her with one hand. His lips moved to her neck now, sucking at the skin. And her small hitch of breath encouraged him.

Soon he pulled away and stood at the foot of the bed, pulling down his trousers and throwing off his boots. His eyes never strayed from her body. How beautiful she was. Now he really noticed.

His hands found her ankles. He pulled her down to the edge of the bed.

She began to notice how he'd began to go back into their routine from before.

He stepped between her legs and propped her hips up a bit, lining his cock with her cunt and beginning to force his way in.

Her jaw clenched and her nose inhaled sharply. She was never used to that first push. 

Her mind wandered to the night before with the book. She had went on to get three fingers in and without pain. She knew it was possible to avoid this if they went slowly. And the pleasure she had felt yesterday was inexplainable.

"Cr-Cregan," she panted out.

His eyes snapped up to hers. They never spoke during this. There was never anything to talk about. 

"I want to… to do it differently," she managed out.

He pulled out from her, holding her legs steady as he gave her a questioning gaze. "What did you read in that thing?" He finally asked.

"I want… I want to be… above," she tried to explain. "You lay down and I… I will do the work."

He was hesitant, understandably so, but he was hard enough now that he didn't quite care how it happened. He just needed a release.

So he laid himself on the bed, his eyes almost bulging out with the way she straddled him so confidently. 

She brushed against his manhood, and he couldn't take it anymore. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he tried to take back control. But her own hands pulled his away. She gave him a look that warned him to let her try it.

She sunk down onto him this time. The pressure was there, but it was different. More bearable this time. And at her own pace, she took her time to adjust to him until his pelvis met hers. 

Cregan's eyes were closed in bliss, and she took that as a sign to continue. She pulled her hips up and sunk back down, and a whine left her mouth without realizing it. It felt… good. Sex with Cregan felt good.

His hands trailed back up to her hips, more gentle this time. He guided her hips in a back and forth motion and a sinful moan escaped from him.

She continued it as he wanted, leaning down to brace herself on his chest. With this new motion, she could find a little pressure to her clit, and it brought a whole new wave of pleasure.

The motions quickened as the two began to explore the idea that maybe… just maybe… they liked this.

If their moans had any indication.

She felt a tightening in her lower stomach, something she remembered from yesterday. She wondered if Cregan could feel it from inside.

And he could. It created a resistance that had him almost drooling with how well it felt. How good she made him feel.

"Let me fill you," he voiced in a beg. It hadn't intended to come out that way, but it did. Cregan was begging.

"I w~" the words caught in her throat. "I want you to fill me," she managed. "Give me a child, Cre~"

The words died altogether on her lips as her orgasm washed over her. The one from her fingers yesterday was nothing compared to this. She felt it throughout her body like spring that had finally snapped. 

Cregan's eyes were open and wide at the feeling of her cunt around him now, spasming with the aftermath of her orgasm. It felt amazing, and he had cursed himself for never discovering it before.

And now that he had, he wouldn't forget it. 

Her cunt milked him for all he had, and he happily gave it to her, releasing himself with a heavy groan.

The two slumped on the bed, Cregan's arms wrapped around his wife's frame. Neither were eager to move from their positions, not even as he softened inside of her or the liquid ran down her thighs.

Before, Cregan had held her up and made her keep it in. 

Now? He didn't care. He could always just fill her again.

He'd do anything to see the way her jaw dropped and her eyes glazed over again. 

"Thank you," she breathed against his neck.

There was a comfortable silence from him. Then finally, "I'll have that book read within the fortnight."

..........................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar@kidd3ath @yujyujj@misswynters@cosmosnkaz@sithapprentice@kaniromi@lovemesomevesey@its-jackie-bb@thorins-queen-of-erebor@kingdomzeldaquest@nyxbranwenn@callsignwidow@a1lexh-blog@alyssa-dayne @ethereal-athalia @ashovertheriver @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @dozcan123 @wangjiangelangel @kamitargaryen @aegonswife @lv7867@helpmedecideaname @cherryheairt @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[percivaltheknight]

Yeah, this says it so fucking well.

I have some big feelings about this entire thing. As a trans man, and as someone who was raised in a very gendered parenting heavy culture.

As much as my mom claims to not care about gender stereotypes, there's so many things she's said or done or expected from me, that she expected to see, that she prepared to see in her growing Girl Child, that she never got. And it shocked and annoyed her every time, because I wasn't following the Rules TM.

And my dad was always the type to keep his opinions to himself, but it's clear to see that he's always been a very firm believer in gender roles and stereotypes.

This created a very awkward environment for my brother and I. My brother who liked sewing and crocheting and origami, who hated the fixing and yard work that dad expected him to learn how to do. My brother who's now teaching himself how to cook, who buys himself cookbooks, because my parents never took the time to teach him anything besides how to turn on a grill.

And then me, who was dragged to knitting circles by my mom and grandma, who said, "it's good for you to learn a craft" but ignored all my interest in other things, because clearly those aren't Real Interests. Me who learned anyways, and then taught my little brother, because he wanted to be involved but was never brought with. Me who learned chess so I could play with my dad, who always said no, not today, but was always disappointed when my bro showed no interest. Me who borrowed my dad's sword art books, and his castle books, and toddled after him to his fencing clubs and through the hardware store and into his work shed to see what he was doing, who listened for hours when he'd tell me about medieval culture and building techniques and weapons and armor and knights, who watched all of the documentaries with him long after mom and my little bro got bored and wandered off to do other things.

And my dumbass parents were surprised that I named myself after a knight from arthurian legend when I came out as trans.

And at the same time, while my brother is teaching himself how to sew and how to cook and is making crafts and knitting, because he enjoys those things, they ask, "why didn't you tell us you wanted to learn?" and we both just sit there and share a look, because really? Where have you even been? Were you paying attention at all while you were raising us, or were you just on autopilot for 18 years?

I mean, yeah, there are still things we like that belong in the Assigned Gender Category. My bro likes his tools, and he's always been proud of his skill with computers and videogames. And I do like crocheting, and cooking, and makeup, now that i've found my own way of doing it. But those aren't things we like because we're supposed to like them. Those are just things we like.

But I think I figured out why I hated pink and purple so much as a kid. When every birthday and christmas present you get is the same color that you've never shown interest in before, and when everything in your room is the same bright happy shade of Something Someone Else Likes, you tend to cringe at the sight of it.

Gendered parenting is so weird. As a little kid I was a total daddy's girl, I was told I would always try to sneak into the garage, I was always very interested in everything he was doing and would follow him around while he was working, but while my family was never the type to outright say "you can't do that because you're a girl", they simply didn't entertain the idea that I could possibly be interested in cars. Then when my little brother was born, it was just assumed he would become a mechanic like our dad because he was a boy. Even though he, unlike me, didn't like being in the garage much and wasn't all that interested in what dad was doing. Once he got to a certain age, dad started making him help and would drag him away from his actual interests for it, which lead to a lot of arguing and not much actual learning.

Gendered expectations sort of create doubles of children. There's the real child with their actual personality, interests and behaviors, and then there's the Gender Child.

My real brother hated soccer and team sports. The Gender Child that existed only the minds of the adults in his life needed to play soccer because that's what a Boy Child does.

Growing up, I always felt like adults didn't actually know me as a person and they weren't interested in getting to know me. Because they felt they'd already learned everything there was to know about me when they were told "it's a girl".

When I talk about how I never got gifts I actually liked from my relatives (to this day I still don't like getting gifts that aren't something I picked out myself), it isn't actually about the gifts themselves. I don't even remember them. What I do remember is the feeling of being given gifts that were seemingly not bought with the real me in mind. They were for the Girl Child™️ version of me. The me that adults wanted me to be, not who I actually was.

[tealvenetianmask]

Is anyone else worried that this

Is the beginning of Andealphus deciding that something needs to be DONE about Octavia?

Presumably, the time when she comes of age and her psychopathic uncle loses power is looming (whether that's at 18 or 25 or whatever...). And I think it's possible that he would be fine with that if Via were able to be molded and used as a puppet for some time. (Although his ultimate goal is clearly to be SEEN as powerful. Did you see all those ice sculptures he made of himself?)

But Via is not moldable. Not in the way that Andrealphus needs her to be- she'd need to be easily intimidated, and she'd need to value conformity, because that's honestly all that he and Stella have when it comes to getting her on their side.

Stella let Stolas raise Via. Stolas raised her to think for herself, to pursue her own interests, to speak her mind, and to love herself. And among other great things, that produced a snarky kid who can't be easily bullied.

So Andrealphus leaves the scene upset.

He goes from speechless to falling back on classism to malice very quickly. I think that "you will regret this" applies to every single character present.

But even more, I think he's starting to see Via as an obstacle, and this will only increase as they keep spending time in the same household.

Octavia is not safe, and this will be a huge threat in Season 3.

(@akirathedramaqueen your fic hits all the notes)

[8-rae-rae-8]

CoD AU where Soap moves into Ghost's childhood home to start fixing it up, where carpets were stained in blood, walls with fist-shaped holes, mold on every ceiling, water damage in the roof... And it's Soap's job to make it a home. He saw the state of the place, and knew it needed gutted. But it looked like it was once a quaint little place, somewhere it would've been pristine if a kind family had been the ones who moved in those 35-odd years ago.

Johnny's going to fix it up, because that's the line of work he's decided on now his knee is permanently braced and his SAS tattoo is scarred to hell. He saw the potential in the place, the perfect layout, the fireplace, the gorgeous backsplash in the kitchen. All it needed was love. Love that it never got before, not to the wood floorings, it's clear in blood that seeped into them.

Everything needed gutted, and Johnny made it his best effort to make the house a home that it clearly never had been before. Thats what he does, loves things far too much, makes it his entire job to make it better. He'll make it a home.

And he does—he cleans up and scraps everything. All of the walls come down, floor is ripped out, everything gets replaced. It's years in the making, years Johnny is so fucking pleased to do. He's on his own, mostly. Making the choices, gladly. He'll lay each brick if that's what it takes. Something speaks to him about this place, that he can make it somewhere worth loving.

He changes things here and there, adds charm where it was lacking. Delicate wooden crown moulding, handcrafted railings over the stairs, a carpet runner down the entryway.

And by the end, there's an open house.

And a little card left in the mailbox that Johnny knew was empty since he replaced it. A messy cursive, not in an envelope but just tossed in. His name at the top..

"Soap,

Thank you for fixing up the place. I grew up here, not the finest place, my mum did her best. But, I think you really found her vision and perfected it. You saw the potential, like she did. It's better than I could've thought... I didn't know it could be fixed, or even cleaned. But thank you, for making it a home. It always had the potential to be a home. You did it justice.

-SR XXXX-XXX-XXX"

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtyNine

prompt from @mugloversonly @after-the-end-times @spectrum-spectre

It’s a little odd having a birthday banner hanging across the Christmas Tree, but everyone was pretty determined that this is Eddie’s birthday, and that’s a totally different thing to Christmas Eve. So everyone is here; Joyce even baked a proper birthday cake, and now they’re doing the thing where they bring out the cake and everyone sings.

It feels bittersweet to Steve; Eddie’s first birthday. It was a year ago today that Steve pulled Eddie out of the pool. A year ago today Eddie came back to him. He remembers vividly struggling to get Eddie up the stairs. Cleaning all the filth off him. How he’d looked, with no hair at all, all skin and bones, wobbling his way down the stairs. The noise he’d made the first time he ever tried bacon; the startled look on his face the first time he’d ever hiccuped.

Eddie stays where he’s been put, sitting at the head of dining room table, proudly wearing a Birthday party hat. Eddie’s been to a couple of birthdays this year, mainly for the kids, so he knows what’s coming. He looks fucking delighted at the sight of the cake, but he still checks, “I can blow out the candles?”

“Yeap,” Steve tells him.

“Make a wish first!” Joyce calls.

“I wish-”

“Nooooooo!” probably half a dozen people yell, “keep it a secret or it won’t come true,” Robin adds. Eddie stares hard at the candles for a long second, and then he looks up, finding Steve. Steve can see the moment Eddie settles on his wish.

He’s still staring at Steve when he blows them out.

“So...things with Eddie are good then?”

It’s a little uncomfortable, but all the stuff that happened feels like it was a long time ago now. Nancy has definitely been making an effort to build a fresh friendship, and Steve can’t fault her for it, not really. Steve finds Eddie, he can see him through the doorway into the kitchen, making something with Robin and Chrissy, “yeah everything is...great. Like really great.”

“I was...a little surprised, you know?”

“Yeah that’s...understandable,” and it is. Eddie is literally a creature from The Upside Down; he didn’t even look remotely human to begin with, half of him was literally a fish. Plus Steve’s never really been interested in guys before, but he guesses there must have always been a little something there for him to take to it so easily. Granted the circumstances forced his hand a little, and he’s still had a couple of things to work through but...he feels pretty good about it. Besides, Eddie still isn’t even really human, so it probably doesn’t exactly count. Not with his lack of nipples and his downstairs situation anyway; you can’t exactly try to stick Eddie into a category...he’s Eddie, a unique and perfect thing all his own.

In the kitchen, Robin spills something, Chrissy shrieks and Eddie manically dashes for a cloth, cackling. The chaos of it makes Steve smile at them; everyone is at least a few drinks deep, Steve’s sure.

“You really care about him though?” She presses a little. Nancy’s never been able to just let it go, especially if she doesn’t understand it. She always needs to know, Steve’s pretty sure it’s not a nosiness thing; more an understanding thing.

“Yeah, yeah I love him,” Steve tells her unabashed, it is the truth, “he loves me too.”

“You’re sure it’s not just...I mean you did rescue him, plus, where would he even go if you weren't together-”

“Are you suggesting Eddie has some sort of-of-of Stockholm syndrome?” Steve can’t help but laugh, a little incredulous at the suggestion.

“Well no, I just. Think you should both be sure-”

“How are you and Jon then?” Steve cuts her off. He chooses to lean into the spirit of Christmas and assume that Nancy’s concerns all come from a good place. Even so, it’s not a good intention Steve has to tolerate if he doesn’t want to. He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting.

Nancy draws breath, like she’s not done, but then clearly rethinks it and chooses her battle, Steve can see the moment when she decides not to pursue it, sipping her drink before she replies, “yeah, really good,” over her shoulder, Eddie, Chrissy, and Robs have their heads together, the conversation clearly turned serious.

“That’s good Nance,” Steve chooses to be the bigger man, “I’m just really glad you’re both happy,” he tells her pointedly. In the kitchen, Eddie’s turned to find Steve, watching him back. Steve can’t quite decipher the look on his face, but Robin’s clutching his arm, on her toes, speaking urgently to Eddie. She looks kind of panicked, which immediately worries Steve.

“Well, I mean, obviously I want you to be happy, I mean I’m glad, really glad it all worked out for you.”

Eddie has a look on his face that Steve’s pretty certain he’s never seen before. He can’t quite work out what it means other than...Eddie’s pissed. Like, really fucking angry. And he’s marching closer, shaking off both Robin and Chrissy in the process.

Steve has no clue what’s happening as Eddie approaches, pushing Steve away from Nancy to press him against the wall and then...kisses him. Steve has his eyes open, not sure what to make of Eddie’s rage, but he soon lets them slide closed. He melts against the wall. Eddie’s kissing him like he’s got something to prove. He’s almost bitey as he sucks at Steve’s lips, leaving little scrapes that don’t quite break the skin. The passion is surprising, but so fucking hot Steve leans into it fast, matching Eddie’s energy and he sucks on Eddie’s tongue, curling his fingers around Eddie’s hips to pull him closer, no longer wanting to stop to question Eddie’s motives.

Eddie pulls back, pink and flushed, an inch of space between them, panting for breath Eddie asks, “you and Nancy used to be together?”

“I-” Steve can’t help his gaze flicking side wards to Nancy, and then back to Eddie, Eddie’s eyes narrowing at the sight, something flashing in the depths, “yeah?” Steve confirms weakly.

Eddie presses closer, his claws pricking Steve’s skin through his clothes; Eddie’s never been possessive like this before, and Steve is...well they’ve had a lot of sex, and Eddie pressing himself against Steve like this, kissing him like that...Steve’s body is only reacting the way it always does, which is a little mortifying in a room full of people.

Eddie leans his face closer again, his hair brushing Steve’s forehead, his breath warm as he growls, “you had sex with her?”

“Eddie!” Steve splutters, but apparently even that is too much, Eddie has him by the wrist, not quite painful, but very harsh compared to Eddie’s usually gentle nature. Eddie turns, pulling Steve along and he...bares his teeth at Nancy, actually hissing at her on the way past.

“Eddie!” Steve starts again, shocked, this time a reprimand, “be nice!” That’s no way to behave, and Nancy is unnerved enough that she takes a big step back. Steve is dragged along behind Eddie, ending up locked into the downstairs bathroom together. Eddie pins him against the door with his body, kissing Steve soundly.

“Baby,” Steve starts, his words broken by kisses, “what’s gotten into you?”

Eddie just growls. It’s not a sound Steve’s ever heard before, and he can feel it, rumbling in Eddie’s body where their chests are pressed together, “need you.”

Eddie starts nipping at Steve’s throat, stinging kisses that makes Steve’s hips roll, looking for friction against Eddie’s thigh. His brain feels like it’s going a little mushy, Eddie’s being unusually forceful, and Steve’s vaguely aware that everyone is still out there and, probably, are now very aware that they’re shut in here together but...as Eddie’s questing fingers find the button on Steve’s jeans, he’s struggling to care about that stuff.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” Steve breathes out, a final token protest, giving in to what's about to happen. Eddie huffs dismissively, tugging down Steve’s jeans and underwear together, Steve angling his hips away from the door to help. Eddie abandons them there, bunched around Steve’s thighs, surging up for another possessive kiss. Eddie grabs Steve’s bare ass with both hands, his claws digging into the meat a little as he squeezes, pulling Steve against him.

“She not touch you again,” Eddie growls against Steve’s mouth, words choppy, “promise.”

“I...I promise baby, of course,” Eddie stares into Steve’s face, their warm breaths mingling as Eddie inspects him from inches away, like he’s searching for any hint of a lie, “no one else ever again, I swear it.”

Eddie nods once, sharply, before spitting into his palm and grabbing Steve's now, very hard cock. He had no idea he’d be into this, but possessive, bossy Eddie is lighting him up in a way he didn’t know he’d like, his brain turning to mush a little as Eddie touches him. He feels too warm, flushed and sweaty already, the world narrowed down to Eddie’s touch on him, hard and fast, intent on getting him off.

“And you,” Steve’s mouth is insisting before his brain catches up, he needs it, needs to make Eddie feel good too. Eddie doesn’t stop jerking him, but he does slow it down, leaning back a tiny bit, giving Steve space to reach past the bend of Eddie’s own arm to get to the button on his jeans.

Steve sees the fabric move. He can see Eddie’s cock desperately wriggling for freedom beneath his zipper. Eddie’s told him before that it gets real uncomfortable real fast, and Steve tuts quietly, “baby.”

Eddie’s cock forces it's way free before Steve even has the zipper half down, already having found it’s way through the slit in Eddie’s boxers, it rushes into Steve’s fingers, greeting him eagerly and tangling itself firmly there. Eddie groans, shuffling close again. The head of Eddie’s cock opens, setting sucking kisses on every part of Steve’s hand and fingers it can reach. They arrange themselves as Eddie’s hand speeds up again, “fuck, baby, yeah.” Steve’s cock is leaking, making Eddie’s hand slick, but Eddie still stops to spit again, landing the glob on the exposed head of Steve’s cock. It’s red already, and Eddie squeezes, forcing Steve’s foreskin up to roll back up and partially cover the swollen head.

Steve’s guts are tight already, the muscles in his ass and legs tensing, he can’t stop the shift of his own hips as he works his thumb in circles across the head of Eddie’s own cock. Eddie jacks him again, slow and so firm, forcing a massive dribble of pre come out of the head of Steve’s cock. Steve groans again, “baby, I’m gonna’-”

“Wait,” Eddie uses his free hand to push Steve’s hand off himself, letting his cock to wriggle free between them. It stands tall, searching, the black petals rippling.

Eddie angles Steve’s cock out, pulling the head down and towards himself, and Steve instantly knows what Eddies planning, “oh fuck baby, yes, yes please.” They’ve never done this before, but just the idea of it makes Steve hips shift, his balls going tight, the orgasm bubbling at the base of his cock, “please, now,” Steve vaguely aware that he’s whining, loud and desperate.

People can hear; he doesn’t give a fuck. He wants this.

Eddie’s cock latches to the head of Steve’s, the black petals stark against the dark pink spongy head. The fit is perfect, the slit of Steve’s cock, the head, being suckled and gently rubbed by all those little bumps, the sucking pulse feels like a mouth, the texture incredible. Eddie drags his hand upward, forcing Steve’s skin up again, his foreskin sliding over top of the petals. Eddie makes a choked noise, his free hand scrabbling again at the meat of Steve’s ass. Steve desperately locks his knees to stop himself from falling. The pulsing, sucking, pulling sensation is relentless.

Eddie moves his hand again, dragging Steve's foreskin back down, revealing the filthy sight of those jet black petals cupping the head of Steve's cock, the body of Eddie's cock writhing. Steve’s head thumps back against the door, his hips wriggling now, unable to stop himself moving in tiny little thrusts, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve groans, “baby-”

Eddie leans up for a kiss. It’s messy, uncoordinated, both of them groaning and panting into each others mouths, and Steve cries out against Eddie’s lips as he comes. The pull is sharp, the stimulation on the head of his cock turning frantic as, just like with Steve’s spit on his cock, Steve’s come works to push Eddie into his own orgasm. Eddie accidentally catches Steve’s lip with his teeth, and the sting is delicious. His orgasm seems to go on forever, Eddie's cock suckling fiercely, and Eddie’s hand working him so perfectly.

Eventually, Eddie slumps forward onto Steve, Steve using his back to the door to keep them both up. “That was…” Steve starts, but doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t know how to describe what just happened. It was maybe the best orgasm of Steve’s life.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, muffled where his face is smushed into Steve’s shoulder. The head of Steve’s dick is suddenly cold, and he figures Eddie’s dick has gone back in. They stand there for a few minutes, Steve rubbing Eddie’s back, gathering themselves. Eddie clears his throat, lifting his head so he can look Steve in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

Steve frowns, brain still a little flooded with happy chemicals, “what?”

“For before. I just...I found out about you and Nancy and I got...I got so angry. It,” Eddie makes a motion between them, a churning of his insides that he can’t express, “I’ve never felt like that before it was...like I hated her. And I needed you and I don’t understand-”

“You were jealous, baby?”

“I...yeah, it was horrible. And stupid- I didn’t – there’s no-” Eddie huffs, struggling for the words.

“How you feel doesn’t always make sense. There’s no...rules, you know.” Steve frowns, remembering, “should probably say sorry to Nancy though, you like, hissed at her which, kind of funny but still.”

Eddie looks a cross between horrified and mortified, “I don’t even remember.”

“Wow,” Steve can’t help being smug, “got it bad for me, huh?”

Eddie limply slaps at Steve’s chest, sighing through his nose, “shut up.”

Steve hums, “uh huh. We should get cleaned up.”

“Probably.”

They peel themselves apart, Steve leaning to grab for some tissue off the roll as Eddie starts to pull his pants down a little, but as Steve investigates, his finds his cock dry, “huh, where did it go?” He wipes up a little, the skin tacky with spit and precome, but otherwise everything is clean and dry, “uh...is my come on you? I can’t, uhm, find it?” He tucks himself away, pulling everything up so he can help Eddie.

“I don’ t think so?” Eddie replies, touching himself, his slit, the crease of his thighs, when Steve goes to wipe at him with the tissue, since Eddie usually makes a lot of come, there’s nothing, “I’m clean,” Eddie tells him.

Steve frowns, “did you come?”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, “I definitely, definitely did. That was…”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “but you’re dry?”

“Yeah,” Eddie scissors his thighs together, something he normally does when he’s spreading all the jelly like come about, “nothing there.”

“This is weird, where'd it all go? And why haven’t you, you know?” Steve feels for himself, running two fingers gently along Eddie’s slit, pushing in to part him the tiniest bit, Eddie makes a breathy little noise as Steve pulls away, “you sure you came?”

“Steve,” Eddie replies flatly, pulling his pants up and buttoning them.

“Right right it’s just...weird, right?”

Eddie shrugs, “makes it easy?”

“Yeah...don’t look a gift horse in the mouth I guess, considering we now have to go out there and face everyone.”

Eddie grins, “I like that they know.”

“Of course you do,” Steve sighs, fixes his hair in the mirror, and opens the door.

It’s after midnight; Eddie’s birthday is officially over. All the kids have gone home with Hopper and Joyce, and before everyone else heads home, since it’s Christmas, they’re going to exchange gifts now.

Steve had been, mildly mortified after they came out of the bathroom, not really wanting to face Joyce's raised eyebrows or the girls giggling...Eddie however, has been strutting around like a proud peacock, so Steve hasn't been feeling too ashamed about the whole thing. He is however, glad of the distraction of the gifts.

All the gifts are stacked under the tree, and Steve has been voted to distribute. A lot of the labels have been made from cut up magazine letters so that the hand writing won’t be recognized; to Steve they vaguely look like ransom threats.

They go around the room, opening their gifts one at a time, trying to guess who got them. They mostly work it out. Steve isn’t that interested in his own; he’s more interested in what Eddie got. The box is actually kind of heavy, and it’s pretty big.

Eddie opens it happily, pulling out a record that Steve knows he’s wanted for ages. And then...a denim jacket with no sleeves that Steve knows he was eyeing at the thrift store. Steve watches with mounting suspicion as Eddie pulls out a book he's talked about. The box, now Steve’s thinking about it, is wrapped with very familiar wrapping paper.

“Eddie, you got loads, they definitely didn’t stay on budget. Who got Eddie? Steve, was it you?”

“No, no it wasn’t me,” Steve quietly chuckles to himself. He half listens as Robin goes around the room, and every single person denies getting Eddie.

“Whoever pulled your name must know you pretty well, huh Baby? They got you exactly what you wanted.”

“Yup,” Eddie grins happily.

“Steve, come on, it must have been you, it wasn’t any of us.”

Steve just shakes his head in denial before turning back to Eddie, “baby...it’s kind of against the rules to pull your own name.”

Eddie frowns, “no it isn’t,” the whole room erupts into laughter around them.

Steve tries to clear up some of the aftermath, but it’s nearly two in the morning and he can’t be fucked really. He collapses on the couch, finishing his now warm flat soda. He can hear Eddie pottering, “we should go to bed!” Steve calls. He’s not loud, not much above speaking volume really, but he knows Eddie will hear him.

“Can we do our gifts now?” Eddie asks from the doorway.

“Sure Baby, if you want to. We’re going to be out most of the day tomorrow anyway,” they’re spending Christmas with the Hopper-Byers brigade, and Steve is kind of looking forward to it. Eddie’s second ever Christmas.

Steve heads off to his hiding place in one of the spare rooms to get Eddie’s gifts, Eddie does the same; Steve knows his are stashed out in the utility.

He’s been pretending not to know.

“Okay, me first,” Eddie says, sitting and pulling out what Steve knows is the record. Steve eyes the gift he has from Eddie; just the one, but it’s fairly big looking. Square. Steve has no idea what it could be.

Eddie likes the record; he absolutely loves the book of Metallica tabs and almost leaves to get his guitar right there and then, but Steve stops him, “tomorrow baby. We really need to sleep after this.”

Eddie laughs at himself and his own excitement, agreeing. When he opens his final gift, the guitar pick necklace, he puts it on immediately and swears he loves it so much he’s never going to take if off. Steve’s glad to hear it, even if it makes him feel, momentarily, a little weirdly possessive.

“Okay, this first,” Eddie pulls over the box, “Chrissy helped me,” he admits as Steve unwraps it, carefully pulling out the frame inside. It’s wrapped in soft packing paper, and Steve pulls that away to reveal his crown. It’s been artfully arranged behind the glass, all dried now, the tufts of grasses stand tall, still twined up with all the little flowers that Eddie had included. Clearly someone spent a very long time carefully setting it out, and it looks beautiful. Steve had carefully stored it away in a shoebox, so he hadn't even noticed it was gone. He’s...touched, by the memory of them in the woods around Hopper’s cabin. Eddie had told Steve he loved him for the first time not long after.

“Thank you...it’s so thoughtful. Thank you. I can hang this up and remember it forever, I love it.” Eddie smiles, slipping off the couch to kneel in front of Steve. Steve sets the frame down.

Eddie pulls a little velvet box out of his pocket, “I didn’t understand what it meant,” he starts slowly, “when you put this on me,” he lifts his left hand, rubbing at the ring with his thumb. “I didn’t know what being engaged was, or weddings or...any of it. I didn’t know, but you loved me anyway, and I’ve never taken it off,” Steve swallows thickly, he knows, he knows in his bones where this is going, but he lets Eddie speak. If Eddie’s saying so may words in one go, it means he’s really thought about, and Steve won’t interrupt him. “But I know now. I understand all of it, and I know I’m a guy, and...we can’t get married, but I...wanted to show you that I know. I know now, and I love you too.”

Eddie opens the box, it’s a simple silver band, thicker than Eddie’s but still, it matches. Steve isn’t sure he’d be able to speak, his eyes already feel wet, so he silently holds his hand out for Eddie to slide the ring on; it fits perfectly.

Steve feels like he’ll crack open if he tries to talk about what he feels right now, it’s too big, too much, “you measured my finger didn’t you. Before the mall? So sneaky.”

Eddie nods, his own eyes looking suspiciously misty, smiling and biting at his lip, clearly nervous, “do you like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I love it, thank you. I love you.”

Eddie smiles, sitting up for a kiss, “love you, too.”

[sy-on-boy]

Some SxF Ch 108 thoughts! (a bit scattered)

(In response to Damian making fun of Anya holding hands with Yor) Anya really is a kind and empathetic character— earlier in the story she probably would be offended and maybe even hurt (esp after Ewen's comment that Yor's not her real mom), but now she feels comfortable enough to take off her mask and reassure Damian about something she fears (feeling unloved by parents). And this is coming after Anya read Melinda's mind and she literally thought "how I wish Damian would just go away!" (among other contradictory things).

Anya doesn't snark at Damian like she might usually do. The sparks show us she's reading his mind, and it's probably something like "my mom doesn't love me". I love the detail of Anya taking off her mask. To me, it feels like a direct parallel to the school dance when she told him she can read minds. Anya is hiding from everyone, but she lets it slip for Damian. Despite everything, she trusts him with her deepest secret. She puts it back on after the moment of vulnerability.

Damian is surprised and flustered that Anya knew what he was thinking. And Anya, instead of deflecting, tells him "believe me, I know." Damian clearly thinks of mind reading as a joke, which should be Anya's way out if she wants to keep it a secret, but it doesn't seem like she wants to hide it from Damian. Or she thinks it's more important to tell him than to keep her powers a secret.

"Take off that stupid mask already!" could mean for "just tell me the truth!" but Anya literally did. She took off the mask to tell Damian what she perceives as the truth (that Melinda loves him). She told him the truth before— she can read minds. And having Yor back Anya up makes Anya seem more "legit".

"Sy-on mom is being bullied too?" is such an innocent way for Anya to describe the psychological distress Melinda is in due to Donovan. She's concerned about Damian's family not getting along, because her own family is precious to her. And while (in the English translation) she uses the same term "bully" to describe what Damian does to her, Anya's facial expression tells us she knows it's a different and more severe ("grown up") form. Her and Damian are bickering kids, but Melinda is an adult dealing with adult stuff and is under great distress due to another adult. You can see it in her eyes. She's shaken by what she learns from reading Melinda's mind.

As for Anya's "This feeling... I think I've felt it before", I'm not sure what she's referring to, but it could be Melinda picking up Damian post bus hijacking, since she similarly cares for Damian in spite of Donovan. Melinda is strange to Anya, but at least she seems consistent in that she wants to care for Damian even though she can't really express it. So Anya decides to express it to Damian on Melinda's behalf.

Also, mention of telepathy. Either a set up for the Desmond family being involved in the experimentation done on Anya, or a red herring. I noticed Melinda's hand was on her ear when she mentioned telepathy, which reminds me of Melinda's earrings (note: jewellery/hair accessories are important in SxF— Loid and Fiona both wear WISE merch, Becky's hair clip is a bomb in reference to her family's business). I've never noticed if she wears a wedding ring, but this chapter she seems to only wear rings on the middle finger.

This chapter was delicious in a lot of ways. The melancholy felt by Loid and Anya, Melinda's whole deal, the ending gives us a lot of fun implications, tarot cards, possible foreshadowing with the telepathy/occult, ominous Grim Reaper/Yor parallels, follow up on "Anya tells Damian she can read minds", etc. I'm surprised by how packed this chapter is yet it leaves questions without answers that we likely won't know ("What feeling did Anya feel before?" "What did Damian secretly think?").

The gentleness of the Forger family stood out to me. Yor was very kind to Melinda and persuaded her to seek help. Anya was kind to Damian despite him insulting her. And while Loid has less screentime, the flashback to his childhood makes me think he genuinely had a fun time hanging out with the caretakers (while trying to get intel because he never stops working). He also stayed because Anya wanted to (and they got Anya that strange mask). Maybe it's intentional in a chapter about Melinda— as the two major families, the Forgers and Desmonds are heavily contrasted. Melinda seems genuinely fond of Yor, and it's due to Yor's own personality/sincere kindness/efforts that she unintentionally gave Loid one of his biggest opportunities (at least, we would assume so). Yor is the only one out of the Forgers who's clueless to Operation Strix, so she isn't trying to manipulate Melinda. Maybe that's why Melinda finds her refreshing. She was also seemingly amused/happy when Anya said Damian bullies her but she still wants to be friends with him. We know a lot of Damian's peers suck up to him, but Anya doesn't. She's not exactly honest, but at least she admits Damian's faults instead of blindly following him.

[ronniesan2006]

I WANT TO CONTRIBUTE TOO-

My contribution is based on reinforcing the idea of ​​changing gods during God Games, mainly with Hestia and Dionysus. But I'm going slowly.

Artemis changing with Apollo, not only because they are siblings and the counterpart of each other, but because there are quite a few aspects that Artemis could reproach Ares about Penelope (although I consider that like Apollo, she doesn't know her well and just made the first mistake that occurred to her, lol). The first one: Why would Penelope deliberately slaughter wild animals? Didn't she first wonder if those sheep had an owner? Of course Penelope is wrong

"You know I love wild animals, but hunting is something that shouldn't be taken as a game. Knowing that those sheep belonged to someone, I think Penny is wrong"

I have a feeling that Ares would answer her something like this

"Sadly, she learned the lesson the hard way, but I'm sure that because of that event, something of this caliber will never happen and she will be more careful when hunting"

Personally, my favorite change, Hephaestus with Hestia. Here, Hestia, would not only be the most difficult to convince (for me) but she would also be touching on an important subject. Penelope went to war and let the fire of her family go out because of her absence and it gets worse if we consider that with her, an important member of that family, Ctimene (Odysseus' younger sister) went.

"I think the punishment they gave that warrior is fair. She left her family, which caused her home to become cold to the point that it doesn't feel like a home anymore and don't get me started on the fact that she took someone very important to that family…"

Ares would clearly be nervous, and I can even imagine how, unlike how he showed up with Artemis, he took off his helmet as a sign of respect towards his aunt and spoke kindly.

"Hestia, protector of the home fire, let me tell you that her sister in arms forgave her and also, I promise you that if you help me free her, she will return to her home where that flame will rekindle in your name" (Hestia would accept a little reluctantly)

Dionysus, at first it made me a lot of noise because I said "But- he never participated in the Trojan War" and then I remembered that this is an AU and it's horrible to limit creativity (xd). Well, the things that Dionysus reproaches Ares would be how Penelope let her father drown in wine out of sadness and he died with a broken heart for not seeing his daughter. Ares rolling his eyes when he hears Dionysus speak as well as Athena when she sees Aphrodite

"Your little and beloved Penelope, says she loves her father very much and yet, she let him drown in wine and in his own sadness"

"She was fighting"

"Rather, mocking the cursed nymph. Why don't you let her also drown in infinite pain, just like her poor father and finally rot?"

"Wait!… Please reconsider"

And I'll only leave those three because I'm still in doubt with Athena and Zeus (How curious). I really love this AU and I wanted to contribute with ideas that I had and this also helps me to organize my ideas and be able to write my own fanfiction xd

UPDATED WARRIOR! PENELOPE AU SWAP LIST!!

Characters who swap:

-Penelope 🔁 Odysseus

-Ares 🔁 Athena

-Hera 🔁 Zeus

- Ctimene 🔁 Eurylochus

- Aeolus 🔁 Polites

-Tiresias(the prophet) 🔁 Circe

-Aphitrite (Poseidon’s wife) 🔁 Poseidon

-Calypso 🔁 Antonious

-Scylla 🔁 Polyphemus (the cyclops)

-Dionysus 🔁 Aphrodite

-Artemis 🔁 Apollo

-Hestia 🔁 Hephaestus

Characters who don’t swap:

-Telemachus

-Hermes

DISCLAIMER!!

This might change over time since I’m still developing this AU and I’m the kind of person who changes ideas constantly, if anything changes then I’ll leave it here

[warblogs17282]

I''m busy thinking about how this part of the episode is supposed to directly mirror what's already happened in the show.

Ignoring the obvious s1 e1 reference, let's start with the backstory behind this hit.

Something that this show makes very clear is that she is supposed to represent Stella, for multiple reasons that I will point out in this post.

Instantly starts out with ex-husband, just like with Stella and Stolas.

The next line proceeds to mention daughters, which is obviously the show planting the seeds for the scene yet to come, the Stolitz family scene. The daughters are very clearly supposed to represent Octavia and Loona.

Plus, the whole 'Can't stand my ex-husband enjoying himself' thing is also supposed to mirror Stella in a way, because guess who else purposefully went out of their way to ensure that their husband/ex-husband never was able to truly enjoy himself.

"When he fucking left me for another man!", when he left me for another man who was able to show him actual, true happiness. Just like how Blitz did just that for Stolas.

I also really want to note Blitz's and Stolas' reactions to all of this, for Blitz, even though he knows almost nothing about Stella, you can already tell he's put some pieces together and realized 'oh shit, this is sounding extremely similar to what happened between me and Stolas.', especially considering the way he looked over at Stolas when she finished talking there.

Which explains why Blitz looks so nervous and trying to talk her out of carrying through with the hit, before just outright denying the request, because it hits way too close to home for him as well. With the next thing she says after this scene pictured below just nailing the similarities home to Blitz.

As for Stolas' reaction, you can tell even before this moment that he's also realized just how similar the whole situation is to his own, and that detail tells us that Stolas isn't just talking about the person the client wants dead, but also himself.

Stolas thinks he's selfish for choosing to be with Blitz, Stolas thinks that he deserves death because of his 'selfish' choice to be with Blitz. Stolas likely thinks at that moment that he deserved to be killed by Striker for his 'selfish' choice.

And well, the show definitely doubles down on showing us just how evil the client is, just like Stella.

Then we get to the moment where every single similarity undeniably falls into focus for Blitz. Blitz doesn't see a random gay couple with two daughters he's been paid double to assassinate a member of, he sees himself, he sees Stolas, and their own respective daughters all in the same room as each other, he sees his dreams for the future with Stolas, and their daughters.

He sees a future of domestic bliss with the four of them, the future he's hoping he can achieve some day.

And because of all of these similarities between the family and Blitz himself, he cannot bring himself to ruin a happy family, can't bring himself to ruin what they have, can't bring himself to ruin what Blitz dreams for, can't bring himself to kill the person he envisions as Stolas, and can't bring himself to ruin the family that he envisions as his own as well.

Plus, Blitz would never be able to truly forgive himself if he took that shot, if he killed that man and ruined the family Blitz places himself in. Blitz would see himself as being no better than Striker if he did take the killing shot.

Because, let's compare s2 e4 and this episode for a second.

"Ex-wife hires assassin to kill their ex-husband with a daughter for extremely evil and selfish reasons."

"Ex-wife hires assassin to kill their ex-husband with two daughters for extremely evil and selfish reasons."

Even if Blitz only understands the s2 e4 hit as "Unknown person hired assassin to kill father with a daughter for unknown reasons.", as I've pointed out before, everything about this assassination hits way too close to home for Blitz.

Blitz has probably already realized at that moment that if Striker had killed Stolas in s2 e4, all of his hopes and dreams of having a happy family with Stolas, Octavia and Loona would instantly go up in flames.

So, why would Blitz want to ruin a family that has what he hopes for in the future? Why would Blitz want to kill the person he envisions as Stolas? Why would Blitz want to kill the person he envisions as Stolas, especially when Striker almost very well killed Stolas, which would've ruined the dream Blitz has that we see here if Striker had succeeded?

What I'm getting that with this is simple, the client represents Stella, the ex-husband represents Stolas, the daughters represents Octavia and Loona, and Blitz represents Striker.

But Blitz isn't Striker, Blitz could've very well chosen to be play the role of Striker and kill that ex-husband, ruining the family as a result for some money, but he didn't, Blitz saw the happy gay couple and their daughters, saw himself in it, and decided the money wasn't worth it, stopping himself or anyone else in the team from taking that killing shot, because Blitz simply refused to play the role of Striker, Blitz played his own role, which is himself.

Blitz is not Striker, and I feel like this moment goes to show even further that Blitz and Striker are supposed to be narrative foils to each other.

[dee-writes-anime]

Gojo's Mistletoe Madness

FEATURING Yuta Okkotsu x Reader

SUMMARY What's christmas without Gojo sticking his nose where is doesn't belong?

CONTENT WARNINGS fluff, childhood best friends to lovers, some satosugu lovin', megumi is embarrassed, yuji is an absolute angel, inumaki is attacked by a scarf :(

AUTHORS NOTE in honor of the holidays, some yuta fluff because he is my baby and I loveeee him :D

The halls of Jujutsu High were alive with holiday cheer. Fairy lights lined the walls, their soft glow reflecting off the snow-covered windows, and a giant Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner of the common room, adorned with handmade ornaments and sparkling tinsel. It had been Gojo’s idea to throw a holiday party, and no one had been able to refuse—not that they’d wanted to. The air was filled with laughter, the scent of hot cocoa, and the faint sound of holiday music playing in the background.

You stood near the fireplace, a mug of cocoa warming your hands, watching as Panda tried to wrap a scarf around Inumaki, who’d been protesting with a series of muffled “Salmon!” and “Tuna mayo!” Yuta stood beside you, his usual shy smile gracing his lips, the warmth in his expression unmistakable. He held his own mug, cradling it like a shield against his nerves, a gesture you’d grown familiar with over the years.

The two of you had been inseparable since childhood, bound by years of shared adventures and quiet moments. After Rika’s curse had been lifted and she’d ascended to the afterlife, you’d made the decision to follow Yuta to Jujutsu High. It hadn’t been an easy choice, but you couldn’t imagine leaving him to face this new chapter of his life alone.

“This is nice,” Yuta said softly, his voice almost drowned out by Nobara and Yuji’s playful argument over who’d eaten the last gingerbread cookie.

You turned to him, smiling. “It is. It’s been a while since we’ve had a moment to just relax.”

He nodded, his gaze drifting to the tree. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you looked away, focusing on your cocoa. Yuta had always been open with his gratitude, but it still made your heart flutter every time he said something like that. Before you could respond, Gojo’s booming voice cut through the room.

“Alright, everyone! Gather ‘round!” Gojo clapped his hands loudly, and the group slowly assembled in the center of the room, some curious, others suspicious about what he was planning.

Gojo’s signature grin widened as he pointed upward. “What’s a holiday party without a little tradition?” he announced, gesturing to the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

The murmurs in the room grew louder as people glanced around, speculating who might be the first victims of Gojo’s antics. Megumi, predictably, sighed heavily and muttered, “Why am I not surprised?” as Yuji immediately perked up beside him, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Oh-ho! Look who’s under the mistletoe!” Nobara’s triumphant voice cut through the chatter, and you froze, your eyes widening as you realized exactly where you and Yuta were standing—directly beneath the mistletoe.

“Yuta!” Yuji’s face lit up with pure glee, and he pointed dramatically. “You know what that means!”

Maki leaned back in her chair, smirking as she folded her arms. “This ought to be good,” she said, clearly enjoying the situation far more than she should.

Even Panda joined in, clapping his massive hands together. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

“Wait, wait,” Gojo interjected, holding up his hand like a conductor directing a symphony. “This is a momentous occasion. Let’s savor it. We can’t just rush the mistletoe magic.”

Across the room, Geto nudged Gojo with a knowing smile. “You really like stirring the pot, don’t you?” he asked, his voice low and amused.

Gojo tilted his head, his grin unfaltering. “Isn’t that why you keep me around?”

“Among other reasons,” Geto replied with a wink, earning a laugh from the taller man.

Meanwhile, Yuta’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he looked at you, his wide eyes mirroring your own embarrassment.

“We don’t have to… I mean, if you don’t want to…” he stammered, his voice barely audible over the chants growing louder around you. His grip tightened slightly on his mug, a nervous tic that you knew all too well.

You bit your lip, feeling equally flustered. But as you looked into Yuta’s eyes, you saw the same nervousness mixed with fondness that you felt. Taking a deep breath, you decided to take the leap.

“It’s fine,” you said softly, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s just a kiss, right?”

His blush deepened, but he nodded. Slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned closer. The room erupted into cheers and wolf whistles as your lips brushed against his in a soft, fleeting kiss. It was over almost as quickly as it had begun, but the warmth of it lingered, spreading from your cheeks to your chest.

As you pulled back, the room’s volume surged with excitement. Nobara was laughing so hard she nearly doubled over, and Yuji high-fived Panda while shouting something about how “Yuta finally got his act together.”

“That… wasn’t so bad,” Yuta said shyly, his voice barely audible amidst the commotion. His gaze stayed locked on you, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you.

“Not bad at all,” you replied, your voice light but warm. The smile you shared was enough to make your heart flutter all over again.

Gojo clapped his hands dramatically, drawing everyone’s attention back. “Alright, folks! Who’s next? The mistletoe’s not done yet!”

Megumi, who had been trying to edge away from the group, found himself stopped by Yuji grabbing his wrist. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, Fushiguro! Mistletoe rules apply to everyone!”

“Yuji,” Megumi hissed, his face bright red. But Yuji just grinned, leaning in close enough to press a quick, teasing kiss to Megumi’s cheek. The room erupted into another round of laughter, and Nobara nearly fell onto the couch, laughing so hard tears formed in her eyes.

Across the room, Geto nudged Gojo with his elbow. “Looks like we’re the only ones slacking,” he said with a sly smile.

Gojo leaned in with a dramatic flourish, pressing a deep kiss to Geto’s lips, even managing to slip in some tongue that made Megumi groan loudly. 

"Why did I expect anything less,” Geto pulled away, laughing.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and joy, punctuated by more mistletoe antics and playful teasing. But you couldn’t help sneaking glances at Yuta, who seemed equally distracted. Every time your eyes met, he’d give you that shy, heart-melting smile, and you’d feel the butterflies all over again.

As the party wound down and everyone began to retreat to their rooms, Yuta walked you back to your door.

“Thanks for… you know, not running away earlier,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “Thanks for not running away either.”

He chuckled, his gaze softening. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Yuta.”

And as he walked away, his hands stuffed in his pockets and a slight bounce in his step, you couldn’t help but think that this was the best holiday you’d ever had.

[delusional-through-and-through]

HANDMADE 💥

It was nearly Christmas, and Class 1A dorm were buzzing with excitement. The class decided to host a Christmas party, complete with a exchange gift event. The rule was simple, draw a name and keep it a secret until the party.

Akira sighed deeply as she looked at the name she had drawn.

“Of course, it’s you,” she muttered, glaring at the name 'Bakugou Katsuki' .

The girls noticed her expression. “Hey, Akira, you good?” Mina asked, bouncing up to her.

“Yeah, fine,” Akira replied, stuffing the paper in her pocket.

“Wanna come shopping with us next week? We’re getting gifts,” Jirou offered.

“Sure,” Akira said with a shrug. She figured she might as well find something fitting for the exploding guy.

...........

A week later, the girls found their selves on the mall shopping for their gifts. As they browsed the stores, the girls chatted about their gift ideas.

“I think I’ll get some accessories,” Yaoyorozu said.

“I’m going for something fun, maybe snacks,” Mina added. “What about you, Akira?”

Akira smirked. “I’m gonna go with a plushie.”

“A plushie?” Ochaco asked, curious.

“Yeah, I’ll make a handmade plushie. Oh, and I’m throwing in some recorders too". She said holding up the recorder she just bought.

“The person I’m giving it to is gonna love it.” Her sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed, but the girls just giggled, assuming it was her way of showing care.

..........

After a good night's sleep, she began crafting the plushie with utmost concentration. The winter break gave her plenty of time to perfect it. Once it was done, she installed a recorder inside and loaded it with a snippet of a song.

“Perfect,” she muttered, smirking at her creation.

...........

Finally, Christmas arrived. The dorm were decorated in Christmas decors all over, and all the students were dressed in Santa costumes.

Akira helped prepare the food, skillfully dodging Mineta's attempts to sneak snacks and perverted attacks.

When the time came for the gift exchange, everyone gathered around the tree. It was Akira’s turn to reveal who she had drawn.

She stood up, holding a neatly wrapped box. “Alright, I got Bakugou,” she announced.

Akira handed him the gift, smirking. “Merry Christmas”

The room collectively “oohed” and turned to Bakugou, who rolled his eyes. “Tch, this better not be stupid.”

He tore open the wrapping, revealing an angry pomeranian plushie in his hero costume. The plushie's expression almost a mirror of his own.

Bakugou's eye twitched as the class burst into laughter.

“YOU MADE ME A DAMN DOG?!” Bakugou growled, his voice rising.

He clenched the plushie tightly, activating the recorder, then the plushie began to sing in a tinny but loud voice.

“I’M T.N.T., I’M DYNAMITE!

T.N.T., AND I’LL WIN THE FIGHT!

T.N.T., I’M A POWER LOAD!

T.N.T., WATCH ME EXPLODE!”

The class burst out laughing again, with Kirishima and Kaminari holding their stomach and Mina smacking the table. Even Todoroki cracked a smile.

"That’s perfect!" Kaminari said enjoying the show.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, EXTRA?!” Bakugou yelled, his face bright red clearly from annoyance.

His grip on the plushie tightened more as he shouted, “YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, HUH?!”

“Hilarious, actually. You’re welcome.” She crossed her arms, grinning. “What?You don’t like it? I thought it suited you.”

“YOU WANNA DIE?!”

“Relax, it’s Christmas. Besides, it’s handmade. You should be grateful.”

The class laughed harder as Bakugou glared at her, his face a mix of annoyance and reluctant appreciation.

Finally, after the teasing died down, Bakugou muttered, “Tch. Thanks, I guess.”

“Wow, you actually said thank you. Guess it’s a Christmas miracle.” Akira said dramatically wiping away her non-existent tears.

“Shut up!” Bakugou snapped, turning away, but he didn’t throw the plushie. Instead, he tucked it under his arm, grumbling as the next person took their turn.

..............

The party continued in full swing after the gift exchange, with blasting music and everyone enjoying the food and little activities.

Akira found herself leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of hot cocoa, watching the chaos from a distance.

“Oi,” a familiar gruff voice called out.

She turned her head to see Bakugou standing there, the angry pomeranian plushie still tucked under his arm. His face was as stormy as ever, but there was an almost unnoticeable awkwardness to his posture.

“What’s up, Kacchan?” Akira asked, a smirk tugging at her lips.

He clicked his tongue. “You really thought that thing was funny, huh?”

Akira chuckled, setting her cup down. “I mean, yeah. The whole class thought so too. Admit it, it’s the perfect gift for you.”

She pointed at the plushie. “That little guy? He’s you in every way.”

“It’s not me,” Bakugou snapped, though his grip on the plushie tightened slightly. “You’re just an idiot with too much free time.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Akira teased, leaning closer with a grin. “You like it, don’t you? I caught you carrying it around. Pretty sure you’ve already named it.”

“What?!” Bakugou glared at her. “Why the hell would I name some stupid plushie?”

“I dunno,” Akira said, crossing her arms and pretending to think. “Hmm....maybe something like… Mini-Me? Or Boomie? Oh! What about Pomsplosion?”

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugou barked, his voice cracking slightly as he turned away.

Akira couldn’t stop laughing. “Oh, so you do like it!”

“I don’t like it!” Bakugou growled, but he didn’t let go of the plushie, which only made Akira laugh harder.

“Alright, alright,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll stop. For now.”

He glanced at her, his scowl softening for just a second. “Tch. Whatever. Just don’t expect me to do somethin’ like this for you next year.”

“Noted,” Akira said, her smirk turning into a genuine smile. “But hey, I’m glad you didn’t throw it out or set it on fire. That’s basically a compliment coming from you.”

“Don’t push your luck,” he muttered, turning on his heel.

As he walked off, Akira called after him, “Merry Christmas, Bakugou!”

He raised a hand in response but didn’t look back. The faint redness in his ears didn’t go unnoticed by Akira, who couldn’t help but grin.

“Well, that went better than expected,” she murmured to herself, sipping her cocoa.

[waynes-multiverse]

*runs to refill tea (and rum)* I'm back, baby! 😎

(Also, before I come across as some drunk, I'd like to clarify I haven't had a drop of alcohol before pregnancy, so Christmas 2022, whoa... 👀🙈😂)

Clearly having a blast and couldn't imagine a better Christmas than reading one of your amazing stories, friend ❤️

Russell happened to spot the cozy little scene from the doorway. He couldn’t help staring, and trying not to frown. When Colter caught sight of his brother loitering (and that look on his face), Colter tried to hide most of his smile.

Loved that little moment of jealousy there. How do you like tasting your own medicine, Russ? 😂

I absolutely loved their pizza and movie date at home. And they already shared so much with each other 🥹 The fact he felt secure enough to open up to her after this short amount of time says a lot, considering Dory hasn't even told her the story yet. I love them 😭🤍

She did offer, he thought, remembering what you’d said at the hospital. And yet, he hesitated.

Honestly, in this day and age, it's always best to wait for renewed consent (even though I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have minded in the least lol). Loved that he recognized that and hesitated!

You watched him go when he headed across the hall back to Charlie’s room. You sighed and beat your hand against your own forehead in frustration. What the hell am I doing?

Poor girl 😂💕 The morning after is always a tad awkward – especially if everything is still in the balance of will they/won't they and nothing *sexual* has happened yet 😅

“Well hey there, cowboy,” you said, adopting a more sensuous tone. “I had a feeling you’d be packing. What’s that, a .45, or a 38 Special?” Russell’s eyes blinked wide. Then he erupted with deep laughter that made his shoulders shake. Aside from throwing a punch, your brother must’ve taught you something about guns too.  “Well thank you, kindly,” Russell said, putting on a bit of a southern drawl, just to tease you. “But you’re about to find out, naughty girl.”

Absolutely adored this exchange! ❤️

Oooof, and that smut may have been my undoing for tonight! Holy hell!!! 😮‍💨🔥🌶️

“You know, drug dealers aside, Laramie isn’t such a bad place to live,” you pointed out. “We’ve got a movie theater, a couple good outlet malls, a new Tex-Mex restaurant that just opened down the street. I’m gonna have to find a new bar though.”

Again, she's so cute 😆🤍

I do hope they work something out. I don't think Russell would've necessarily taken the "big" step, knowing her feelings on this, if he hadn't planned to try and make it work somehow ❤️

He’d found where he wanted to be.

Perfect ending, friend 🥹💚 (You know I love a bit of drama and angst in an ending lol)

I loved this series so goddamn much! It fit so well with every character and gave so much that the show didn't (like that awesome family reunion of the three Shaws). Can't wait to get into the one-shots over the holidays 😍

Again, the merriest of Christmases to you and your family, Alex! Thank you for always being a wonderful friend 🤍🎄

Every Second Counts - Part 5

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: I thought about breaking up this chapter into two parts, but for some reason it didn’t feel right. I hope you enjoy the finale! I think this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for…

Word Count: 7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, angst and hurt/comfort, ‘90s movie reference, mutual pining and tension, and a strong dose of smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 5: “Damn Worth It”

You borrowed Russell’s cell to call Dory from the hospital. You let her know that Charlie was stable and resting, and that Russell was bringing you home.

You should’ve known that when you two got there, you wouldn’t have the kind of privacy you craved. Colter and Dory were waiting in his car, parked in your driveway. They met you in front of your house, where Dory pulled you into a big, swaying hug. She cried, you cried, and her brothers hung back to watch the warm scene.

Dory pulled back to get a better look at you. She hesitated to touch the bandage above your brow.

“God. Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you sniffed, wiping at your face. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Dory actually had your keys. After she handed them to you, you took in a steadying breath, and you unlocked your front door without incident this time. You invited everyone in.

Even though you told her not to, Dory began straightening up a bit for you. She had Russell take out the trash while she washed the dishes.

Meanwhile, you pulled Colter aside in the living room. You led him to sit with you on the couch.

“Can I at least give you $1,000?” you asked. It was all you had left in your savings, but the man had literally saved your brother's life, and yours as well. “I know it’s not much, compared to what your jobs usually get you—”

“Please,” Colter said. He touched your arm. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you and Charlie are safe.”

You teared up all over again, but you gave him a smile and held his hand with both of yours.

“Thank you,” you said.

Russell happened to spot the cozy little scene from the doorway. He couldn’t help staring, and trying not to frown.

When Colter caught sight of his brother loitering (and that look on his face), Colter tried to hide most of his smile. He let go of your hand, patted your shoulder and stood. You followed him to the kitchen, where he went to check on Dory. Russell filtered in behind you both.

“Hey, wanna grab some lunch?” Colter asked his sister.

She gave him a raised brow. “Wow, my brother actually wants to hang out with me instead of rushing off to the next job?”

He gave her an amused look. “I’ve got some time.”

Dory was happy to hear that, but her expression dimmed when she turned to you.

“Would you want to go? Or do you need to rest?” she asked.

“Oh, I need to get cleaned up, and then sleep for about ten years,” you said. “But you go, D. Have fun.”

She frowned. “I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

“Well, she won’t be,” Russell chimed in. “I’m gonna hang out here for a bit, clean up and take little power nap myself.”

At that, Dory slowly smiled, both amused and suspicious. Her gaze slid back to you.

“Are you sure?” she asked. You read the double meaning laced in her tone.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said with a smile, and the beginnings of a warm blush. “You guys go ahead.”

There was a knowing gleam to her own smile, but Dory shrugged and gave you one last hug. She and Colter said their goodbyes to their older brother before they headed out. It left you alone in the house with Russell for the first time since this all began.

“Um, you can use the guest bathroom if you want to shower,” you told him. “Towels are under the sink, and feel free to borrow any of Charlie’s clothes if you need.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got a bag in the car with some stuff,” Russell said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “I take one wherever I go.”

“Smart,” you nodded. “Very prepared.”

A strange silence stretched between you two, until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m just…gonna go clean up,” you said. “We can order some food after?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said. He was amused as he watched you scurry off, after giving him another smile over your shoulder.

Though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a small trill of nerves himself. It brought him a little bounce in his step as he headed out to his car to grab his stuff.

By the time you were done showering and drying your hair, Russell had ordered a pizza (and a side of fries). You padded out into the living room in an old college shirt and pajama shorts. He tried not to linger his gaze on your smooth, bare legs. 

“Sorry, forgot to ask if you’d want something else to eat,” he said. 

“Pizza is perfect,” you said. At this point, after almost a full day without food, you’d eat sliced bread out of the bag. You gave him a teasing look. “I’d ask you if you wanted a beer, but I’m afraid it’s not up to your standard.”

“Well, that’s okay. I happen to have brought a sample for you, just like I promised,” he said, with that grin of his you’d come to expect.

He retrieved a case of homebrew from his car, but you had to add some ice cubes into a tall glass before you joined him back on the couch. You poured the contents of a bottle into the glass.

“Sorry, I know this is sacrilege, but I can’t drink warm beer,” you said.

“I can’t fault you, though I didn’t really peg you for a pizza and beer kind of girl,” he said. He tipped a swig of beer into his mouth, right from a lukewarm bottle. He was a purist.

You quirked a brow at him and took another bite of your pizza slice. 

“Why not?” you asked, after swallowing a mouthful of pepperoni and mushroom.

Russell shrugged. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“No, no. I want to hear this,” you said. “What, because I teach college students?”

Russell looked over at you and leaned on his elbow, resting above his knee. 

“You’re a college professor with a handful of degrees,” he said. “I’ve got a GED and a give ‘em hell outlook on life.”

You shook your head at that. 

“We’re different. That’s not a bad thing,” you said. “And like my brother, you’ve fought for this country. You’ve saved lives, including mine. I’d say that’s pretty damn special.”

His head tilted at that. He didn’t want to remind you that, just like you saw today, he’d taken lives too. Perhaps just as many as he’d saved. You could debate the quality of those lives, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew what he was. A trained killer.

He rolled his shoulders, feeling a familiar weight.

You didn’t like the pensive look on his face, so you aimed to distract him.

“Want to watch a movie?” you suggested.

Russell inclined his head. “Sure. What you got?”

That was how the two of you ended up finishing the box of pizza and a case of beer while laughing at Tommy Boy, of all things—one of the best '90s buddy road trip comedies of all time. Apparently Russell had never seen it before, but you enjoyed watching him experience it for the first time. He had a deep, infectious laugh that made you laugh just by proximity. 

Later in the movie, the reluctant, unlikely duo of Tommy and Richard hit a deer, and tried to transport it in the car. Russell both laughed and cringed when the animal woke up and thoroughly wrecked the car from the inside. You noticed his reaction and nudged him in the arm. 

Russell held in a grunt of pain when you unintentionally hit his injured shoulder, bandaged underneath his gray henley. 

“What if that was the Chevelle,” you teased. 

He cast you a playfully chiding look. “Woman, don’t even joke.”

You laughed and squeezed his forearm in a friendly gesture. But he thought there was more than just friendliness when you shot him that little smile. He decided to take a chance. 

“Come ‘ere,” he said. He slid a hand around your waist and guided you closer until you came to lay against his side. You allowed yourself to rest against him, splaying your hand flat against the firm wall of his chest. Your heart tripped up faster, but you also relaxed more fully for the first time since you got home. You let out a long breath, and you used the remote to lower the volume on the movie a little.

“Do you think Charlie will be able to get past this?” you asked quietly. “Think he’ll be okay?”

Russell hummed as he thought back to his conversation with your brother in the hospital. Charlie was still young, but he seemed to realize what he’d done, and what he needed to change. He wouldn’t have volunteered himself for rehab if he hadn’t.

Russell brushed your arm with his thumb. “Well, I think he knows what he needs to do. If he’s anything like you, then he’ll be all right.”

Your mouth tugged upward, though you considered his words with a sigh.

“He hasn’t had it easy,” you said. “He was barely eighteen when our parents died. Suddenly he had to be an adult. In fact, he almost didn’t finish high school. Had to take care of the funeral, had to get a job, had to take care of me…and I didn’t always make it easy on him.”

Russell’s lips curved in light of your faint smile. Then, your expression dimmed.

“He pulled me out of the car,” you admitted. Russell looked down at you.

“You all were there?” he asked. 

“My dad was driving. We’d just gone out to dinner as a family,” you said.

You hesitated as the scenes once again filtered through your mind. Some things were hazy. Others, you could see with perfect clarity. You remembered how your parents argued about the best way to get home while the pouring rain beat down overhead, half-drowning out their voices.

You remembered what the flash of a red stoplight looked like through the car window, with streams of water coming down, and a dead leaf stuck to the glass.

You remembered the sound of horns blaring in your ears, the crunch of metal on metal. Your mother’s scream. The feeling of being suspended, and then ricocheted painfully through time and space.

Then the smell of exhaust, and the metallic tang of blood.

“We were heading through a terrible storm,” you said, after letting out a long breath through your nose. “By the end of the night, it was just me and Charlie in the hospital.”

He’d broken his arm, but thanks to him, the only thing you really walked away with were a few cuts and bruises, and the memories of that day. They were like old scars, painful and tender at the touch.

Russell shook his head, his brows knitting together. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “And I’m sorry too. I know you understand what it’s like to lose a parent.”

The movie played on as that new weight settled between you. Russell fell into his own thoughts as he continued to rub your arm in comfort. His own past wasn’t like yours, but he did understand some of your pain.

“How much did Dory tell you about how we grew up?” he asked.

You shifted a bit, so you could see his face too.

“I know your dad took you all to a cabin in some sort of compound in the woods, when you all were still pretty young.”

“He taught us to live off the land. Drilled us, really,” Russell explained, noting your raised brows. “Yeah, he was…well, a paranoid bastard, to be frank. We still don’t know all of why, and what drove him to move us out there.”

“Dory said he was…eccentric,” you said. Russell snorted.

“He was a piece of fucking work,” he said. “Half the time I hated him, if I’m honest.”

That part was hard to admit, even if it was true. Your hand soothed across his chest, more comforting as you listened. Russell’s lips quirked. He liked that about you, that you were willing to listen without judging him, or his family. Maybe that was another reason Dory seemed to love you so much.

“But one night, it was like he snapped,” he said.

For a moment, he was lost in the memory. His father’s anger, and the damn crazy look in his eyes. 

“What happened?” you asked quietly.

Russell glanced at you again. “I don’t think you wanna hear this right now.”

You shook your head. “No, I do.”

He hesitated, but that earnest look in your eyes got him. Still, he surprised himself when he actually told you. He explained it the best he could, the way he saw it in his mind’s eye.

Their mom had been missing, hadn’t come home yet. Then his dad had torn around the house like a man possessed, until he told them it was time to leave for their own safety. Dory had been scared, especially when he grabbed her, yelled at her.

That was the one thing Russell couldn’t tolerate. So he snapped, yanking the older man back and shoving him away. It was one of the first times Russell had ever defied his father.

Ashton Shaw left them then, heading out into the night and the rain. Maybe he’d realized what he was doing to his own kids, his own family.

Colter wanted to follow after him, but Russell stopped him. Being the eldest, he took on the responsibility, even if he’d been reluctant. We’re better off without him…

He was barely sixteen at the time, but Russell knew he’d seen his father arguing with someone—a man he’d seen before, talking with his mother. And then…

“I watched him die that night,” Russell said.

Your hand clenched in his shirt, reminding him that you were still in his arms, still listening. He remembered that scene, looking over the cliff to find his father’s broken body down below. 

“He fell, and I couldn’t stop it,” he said. “And to this day, I still don’t know what all that was about.”

He’d been reluctant to tell even Colter that it still haunted him sometimes; that night, and the not knowing.

You pulled yourself up further so you could meet Russell’s gaze.

“I’m so sorry,” you said.

The movie had long faded into the background, but at least it gave some white noise for the next heavy beat that passed between you two. His eyes eventually fell away from yours.

“It’s old history,” Russell said at last.

“It’s not just history,” you denied softly. “It’s your life.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just hummed in agreement. He encouraged you to relax against him again, with a warm hand on your back. You settled and released another contented sigh. Even though Russell’s story weighed on your heart, you did feel closer to him. It made you feel like you understood Dory better too, and even Colter.

Russell rubbed your arm. “You doin’ okay? You’ve had a long day.”

“Day and night,” you agreed. Your eyes closed against your will. “But, yeah…I think I’m okay now.”

At that, he smiled. He laid a kiss on your forehead.

“Good,” he said.

A few minutes later, Russell heard your soft, deeper breaths in sleep. He chanced grabbing a throw blanket laid over the back of the couch. He managed to toss it over your body, but he made sure it covered you. You shifted in your sleep and curled up more comfortably against him. 

Russell smiled down on you fondly. He’d learned a hell of a lot more about you in just the past couple of days, but ever since he met you, he’d been picking up on the important things. The things that made you the woman you were.

And he wanted more, he realized. He wanted more time with you.

That turned out to be the last real thought he had before his eyes closed on him too. 

Russell didn’t wake again until the credits on the movie were rolling near the end. You were still knocked out. So he carried you, blanket and all, over to your bedroom.

He smelled the remnants of your floral shampoo and body wash in the air, likely coming from the bathroom. It was an intoxicating mix, one that had infiltrated his nose ever since you came out of the shower today. 

It was only 6:00 p.m., but it might as well have been midnight. He laid you down toward the middle of the bed. There was still space on the other side. Very tempting.

She did offer, he thought, remembering what you’d said at the hospital. And yet, he hesitated.

Before he could make a decision, you made it for him. Your hand reached out to hook in his shirt. 

Russell looked down at your sleepy smile. 

“Get over here,” you said, tugging him downward. He chuckled and wrapped his hand around yours. He allowed you to guide him over, and he somehow managed to roll onto the other side of the bed without crushing you. 

“Reflexes like a cat, I tell ya,” he quipped.

You giggled softly. He took off his first layer of defense (his pants), leaving him in his henley and boxer briefs. He settled into bed behind you and slipped an arm around your waist. He fit in snug against your back.

“Mmm,” he sighed. His lips pressed behind your ear, smiling there. “Feels nice.” 

“Mhmm,” you agreed.

He couldn’t see your smile, but you held his arm in place. For the first time in a while, you weren’t alone.

In the early morning, you woke up to warmth and closeness. The man in your bed snored lightly, mouth parted in sleep while he faced you. You smiled.

How could a man who felt dangerous, in more ways than one, also make you feel safe? It was a wonder. Though when an idea hit you, you carefully slid out of bed.

Russell eventually roused in his own time. He blinked awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched out his limbs in your very comfortable bed. This sure beat rusty motel springs.

He realized that he was alone in the room, but he heard you puttering around the house. He allowed himself to doze some more.

A few minutes later, you returned to greet him with a couple of mugs, drawing him back into the waking world with the rich smell of coffee.

“Aww yeah, that’s the stuff,” he said. He groaned as he slowly sat up.

You laughed and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he said. His voice was deeper and rougher with sleep, washing down your spine pleasantly.

He accepted the mug you offered him. He took a sip and hummed in pleasure at its bold flavor. It wasn’t as sweet as he usually liked it, but it was exactly what he needed right now.

“I just did a little sugar and creamer. That okay?” you asked. 

“It’s good,” he nodded. And you looked good, he noticed, with your bed-tousled hair and an open robe over your tank top and little shorts.  

“Do you want to meet Dory and Colter for breakfast?” you asked. “Dory texted me this morning.”

Russell’s brows shot up. 

“Colt stuck around?” he asked.

“Yeah, Dory asked him to stay at her place last night,” you said. Russell hummed in response. 

A bit of an awkward lull fell between you. You’d felt bolder yesterday in the hospital, but now, you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing with a man who just slept somewhat-but-not-altogether platonically in your bed.

“Um, I’ll just…get ready then,” you said, pointing to the bathroom. “You…take your time.”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.”

He peeled back the covers and climbed out of your bed, away from the sheets that smelled like you. 

You watched him go when he headed across the hall back to Charlie’s room. You sighed and beat your hand against your own forehead in frustration. What the hell am I doing?

You’d literally invited him into your bed last night, but he hadn’t done anything more than hold you while you slept. It was incredibly kind, and it said a lot about him, despite his rough-around-the-edges exterior. You were just a little disappointed that he’d been a perfect gentleman about it all. 

You rolled your eyes at yourself. What did that say about you?

You shook your head and resolved to freshen up. There was still a cut that the ER nurse covered with a butterfly bandage above your brow. You cleaned it up and applied a new bandage. Then you put on some makeup to cover the ugly bruise on your cheek and the dark circles that lingered under your eyes.

God, look at me. You actually wouldn’t blame Russell for not being into you enough to make a move. 

A bit disheartened, you changed out of your pajamas to slip on a nice, but comfortable dress over your bra and underwear. Afterward, you paused to stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. What exactly do you want here?

“Hey, uh—” Russell’s voice startled you, making you flinch. Maybe you were still jumpy.

He raised an apologetic hand. “Sorry. Just thought I’d ask if you want some toast or something. I don’t think my stomach can wait ‘til we meet up with Dory.”

You smiled faintly. “Sure, go ahead. Whatever’s there, you’re welcome to.”

Russell paused, tilting his head. There was something off with you. He saw it, and felt it. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you said, glancing away. 

Russell’s spidey senses began to tingle. He approached you and laid a hand on the counter, inches from yours. 

“You sure?” he said. He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you. Instead, his hand drifted down to your neck, cradling your jaw. His thumb brushed over your lower lip this time, smudging your lipstick a little. Your eyes met his, but they’d already lowered, to the path of his hand. You were tempted to nip at his thumb, or better yet, suck it into your mouth.

Perhaps he read the thought crossing your face. Because when those darkened eyes flicked up to yours, he finally bowed his head to kiss you.

You took in a deep breath, and you melted into his mouth with a moan of wanting. A craving from the depths of your heart, finally being fulfilled.

You didn’t let yourself think anymore. You gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. He cupped the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as he deepened the kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, and you let him in. You met his every kiss with the same fervor, claiming him right back, demanding just as much.

Your hands slid up his chest and helped him shrug off the green jacket first, then his shirt (Led Zeppelin this time). He hooked an arm around your waist and brought you flush against him, so he could turn you around and walk you back to the bed. 

You clung to his bare shoulders and savored the feeling of his warm, calloused hands burning up your thighs and ass, bunching the skirt of your dress. You helped him get it over your head and toss it onto the floor along with his clothes. 

As he held you by the waist, his gaze dipped for a moment to take you in, from bare thighs and hips and lacy panties, all the way up to your breasts cupped in your bra. Through panting breaths, you smiled and blushed at the heated depths of his green eyes. You felt like your heart was beating in and out of rhythm.  

But you managed to get a hold of your nerves long enough to drag your hands down his chest, down to his belt. You unclipped it for him and took your time in sliding the entire belt out of its loops. Then you let the brown leather fall to the floor. 

Russell raised a brow at you, smiling. Taking your challenge for what it was, he unbuttoned his jeans himself and aimed to step out of them, but he had some trouble when one of the pant legs got caught around his ankle and sock-covered foot.

“Shit,” he muttered as he stumbled a little. “Hold on.”

Unable to help a small giggle, you grabbed his left arm to help steady him. He hissed in pain, but he cleared his throat to cover it. You gasped as you realized what you’d done. You noticed then that he had a bandage tightly wrapped above his elbow, right below one of his tattoos.

“What’s this?” you asked in concern. You held his arm with both hands. “Did you get shot? Did you get this looked at when we were at the hospital?”

Russell staved off your questions with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. This is old, just still healing up,” he said. 

You frowned up at him. “You got stabbed, shot, what? When did this happen? I thought you worked in private security.”

“A couple months ago. I got, uh, grazed. Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Sometimes the job gets a bit dicey.”

He could tell though, that you weren’t going to let it go easily. 

“Let me see,” you said, trying to peek under the bandage. Russell laughed and gathered you into his arms to stop your attempts. Your concern warmed him, but it wasn’t necessary. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart. I promise. Can we focus on the fun part, here?” he said.

Your brows furrowed. You opened your mouth to reply, but Russell saw the testiness in your eyes. He dipped down to kiss you, swallowing whatever snippy remark you were about to make.

You weren’t the only one giving into a craving here. Russell’s was bone-deep, molten in his blood, and getting to see you, to feel your soft body under his hands was already so much better than he’d imagined. His hold tightened on your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin.

A shudder ran up your spine at his touch. You circled your arms around his neck and let him continue ravishing you, then laying you down onto the bed. 

While you were careful about avoiding the bandage, your hand did drift down his arm, and further still, to palm at the straining bulge pressing against you. And Jesus Christ, did it feel generous. He grunted at your touch and paused with his lips against your jaw. 

“Well hey there, cowboy,” you said, adopting a more sensuous tone. “I had a feeling you’d be packing. What’s that, a .45, or a 38 Special?”

Russell’s eyes blinked wide. Then he erupted with deep laughter that made his shoulders shake. Aside from throwing a punch, your brother must’ve taught you something about guns too. 

“Well thank you, kindly,” Russell said, putting on a bit of a southern drawl, just to tease you. “But you’re about to find out, naughty girl.”

You giggled as he began to kiss your neck, languid and sloppy. He blazed a wet trail down the column of your throat and between your breasts. His beard rasping against your skin made you shudder a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, you quite liked that a lot.

He slipped a hand underneath you to unclip the black lace. You arched into him so he had easier access. 

He slid the bra from your body and tossed it somewhere behind him. Just as he’d imagined, you had beautiful tits. His lips explored each of them in turn, squeezing supple flesh and rolling your sensitive, hardened nipples with his tongue and fingers. 

It was a prequel, you thought, for what talents that mouth might have further down. You had to moan just at the idea, your fingers clenching in his hair, but also at the sensations he was drawing from your body wherever he touched. The man clearly knew what he was doing.

He traveled lower still and laid slow, occasionally nipping kisses across your stomach, hips and thighs. His fingers hooked around your panties and lowered them down your legs. You felt his warm breath panting against your thigh. You glanced down at him and tensed in anticipation. 

“Still good?” he checked, squeezing your hip. You smiled and reached for his hand. Russell gave it to you, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand in affection. 

“I think I’m about to be,” you said cheekily.

He smirked. His other hand smoothed up the inside of your thigh and slipped past your folds, finding wetness that already coated his digits.

“Goddamn. You’re soaked,” he said, just a hint teasing. “Bet if I put my mouth on you, you’d fuckin’ drown me.”

Again, he stopped whatever smart quip you were about to levy at him next when his fingers found your clit. You let out a gasping moan instead.

He decided that he already loved that sound. He endeavored to pull it from you, again and again when he began working you open with his fingers and pumping them inside you. He enjoyed seeing you writhe and arch against his hand. Your hands squeezed his arms, his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself.  

His thumb circled and strummed your clit in a rhythm only he could hear in his head, until you couldn’t help biting your nails into his shoulders when you came. You shuddered your release as your core throbbed with warmth and slick around his fingers. 

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he said. His voice rasped deep with arousal. “Wouldn’t even mind if you did drown me.” 

You huffed in response, unable to form speech just now.

Next time, Russell thought. He slipped his fingers out of you and licked them clean, making your eyes widen. He smirked and stroked your thigh as you came down, a shuddering mess.

After taking a second to regain your breath, you pulled him down for a kiss, both grateful and fueled by a passion you couldn’t put into words. What you felt for this man was instinctual, from the moment you saw him. And yet, it was also so much more. It was raw, and real, and maybe even beautiful.

The thought spurred you on as your hands moved with purpose down his body. Your nails caught at the waistband of his boxer briefs as you tried to roll them down. You got it halfway down his thighs, enough to let his hardened length spring free. You bit your lip at the mere sight of him. Goddamn.

Your hand slid around his cock, near its weeping head. You used the beads of wetness there to work your way smoothly down to its base. Russell’s body tensed above you, just before he groaned low in pleasure.    

You pushed at his chest to have him let you up. 

“Your turn, baby,” you said. It would be one hell of a challenge to get your mouth down that beautiful 44 Magnum, but you were more than willing to try.

To your surprise, Russell shook his head and guided you back down.

“Let’s pin that one for next time too. Wanna be inside you already,” he said.

You blinked, but then you nodded in breathless agreement. He kissed you deeply, devouring you with his teeth grazing your bottom lip. His tongue soon slipped out to soothe it.   

“Condom?” he panted, between kisses. 

“Oh, yeah. Um…bathroom, bottom drawer,” you whispered, though you weren’t sure why you were whispering. 

“Okay, two seconds,” he said.

He left you in the bed, quite literally hot and bothered, and very naked. You crossed your arms over your breasts on reflex while you tried to recover. Your core was still tingling, and your heart was beating fast, though you couldn’t stamp out the smile forming on your face. 

You heard the sound of foil unwrapping and clothed rustling. When he came back to the bedroom, you finally got a full picture of what you were in for. You unconsciously licked your lips as your gaze dipped down his body, and the indeed impressive package at full mast, and full display. 

A grin curved his lips when he caught you staring. He climbed back onto the bed with just a bit of struggle with all the blankets coiled about. He pushed a heavy blanket out of his way, accidentally shoving it to the floor.

“Back to business,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed, and you welcomed him back, sliding your hands up his arms and shoulders. You hooked your thigh around his hip as he found his way back between your legs. Holding his bearded face in your hands, you pulled him in for another kiss that reignited you both. 

He sunk his hand into your hair and treated you to another slow, deep kiss. Until your thigh tightening around his hip urged him to satisfy what you both had been wanting and waiting for.

He grabbed your thighs and angled you higher. Then he lined himself up at your entrance. Looking into your eyes, your breaths mingling together, he sheathed himself a little at a time. A keening moan fell from your lips.

He started with shallow thrusts, giving you time to adjust. But that in itself was a torturous tease. It made the coil in your lower belly start to tighten again. Pleasure began to thrum inside you, ever slowly. Your head tipped back into the pillows with a gasp.  

“God, Russell, please,” you uttered. You squeezed his arms on reflex, your heels digging into his ass. 

“I know, baby. Gonna fucking wreck you, I promise,” he said with a grin. 

You huffed in amusement. That was a hefty promise.

Though a moan tore from your throat when he finally bottomed out, stretching your inner walls. He groaned along with you. His lips fastened to your neck as he gave you deeper thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you said raggedly in his ear, raking your fingers through his hair. You felt every damn inch of him.

“You too, baby. So damn good,” he gritted out. “Tell me what you want.”

He raised your thigh a bit higher, his fingers pressing into flesh.

“Ugh, fuck,” you gasped, as he hit a particularly delicious angle. “Whatever you want to give me.”

“You sure about that?” Russell asked, panting against your neck. Your nails dragged down his back between the muscles in his shoulders, hard enough to earn a halting groan from him.

You nodded emphatically. “Yes!”

His lips hinted at a smile. “Okay, hold on."

Before you could even respond, he pulled out of you all the way, just so he could guide you over onto your stomach. He pulled you up onto your hands and knees. As he ran a hand down the gentle slope of your back and around the curve of your ass, you breathed harder in anticipation.

“So damn beautiful,” he muttered.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. You unconsciously bit your lip as your heart couldn’t help but swell at his words. Russell met you with a look that betrayed his desire, making your lower belly tremble as well.

He parted your cheeks and slotted himself between your thighs from behind. You once again felt the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, and then pushing back in with one deep plunge. Both of you let out moans of relief at the feeling.  

Pretty soon, he was pounding into you deeper and faster than before. Oh, fuck yes…

You clawed at the headboard, trying to find something to keep you stable. Russell’s arm slid around you for a solid support. You held onto him right back with one hand while he continued to drive into you, earning each and every sound coming out of your mouth. He’d finally angled you just right, so he could hit that special spot inside you with every thrust. Your pussy clenched on him in response, making him grunt in pleasure. 

“Fuck, you’re close. I can fuckin’ feel it,” he said, panting. He laid a biting kiss where your neck met your shoulder. You cried out in both pain and pleasure, your inner walls once again squeezing on him. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, breathless. “This time, you’re gonna come with me.”

You reached back and tangled your fingers into his hair. He held you to his chest and squeezed your breast a bit roughly. You uttered a wanton sound. You dragged his hand down your body to part your folds. You used his fingers to press against your clit. 

He picked up your hint, and then took control, massaging you with his fingers. There you began to tremble from the inside out. Warmth emanated from your core and spread outward, down to your toes as you came even harder on his cock. 

Russell wasn’t far behind. His voice joined yours as his body locked up, and he spilled hot into the condom. You almost wished he’d come freely inside you, so you could really feel him. Regardless, your body was boneless when he lowered you down onto the bed afterward.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

He chuckled and kissed your shoulder, before he fully pulled out. Panting for breath though you both were, you managed to twist onto your side and reach a hand for his cheek. Your fingers slipped higher from there, cupping the back of his neck. Your thumb swept tenderly across his cheek, and you guided him down for a proper kiss.

Russell obliged you, his lips meeting yours plush and wet. He brushed strands of your sweaty hair away from your forehead with affection.

Somehow, that last kiss was softer than all the rest.

One thing was for sure though. There was no way you two were making it to breakfast. 

“I kind of feel bad now,” you later confessed. 

You and Russell were taking a few minutes just to recover under the messy sheets. He held you while sitting up against your headboard. He almost craved a smoke. You’d given him a damn workout. 

He smirked at the thought. Admittedly, his mind was more on focused on the scenes replaying in his head than on what you were saying. 

“Dory doesn’t get to see you guys that often,” you continued, “and who knows how long Colter will seriously wait for us to get out of bed.”

Russell’s attention drifted back to you at that.

“Come on, it’s not like they know why we’re running late,” he said. You gave him a knowing look. 

“Are you kidding? They were already suspicious when you brought me home yesterday,” you replied with a laugh. 

Russell grinned and rubbed your arm. He knew you were probably right, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Yeah, well. That was damn worth it,” he said.

You smiled. You rolled your head over on his shoulder, so you could see his face, but you became contemplative as uncertainty crept in. You let in a breath to gather your courage, and you decided to take a chance. 

“You know, drug dealers aside, Laramie isn’t such a bad place to live,” you pointed out. “We’ve got a movie theater, a couple good outlet malls, a new Tex-Mex restaurant that just opened down the street. I’m gonna have to find a new bar though.”

Russell smiled at you. He knew what you were suggesting.

He sighed as his amusement faded. 

“Look, even if I stay…” he hesitated.

He looked into your eyes and saw the vulnerability there. You were being honest with him, putting your heart into his hands. The least he could do was be honest. He covered your hand where it rested on his chest.

“If I’m on a job, I could be gone weeks at a time. I won’t be able to tell you where I am or what I’m doing. That’s gonna be hard on you,” he said. 

He knew his friend Doug made it work with his wife, but their relationship wasn’t without friction because of the job he and Russell shared.

“I can handle it,” you said firmly. 

“You just had a little freak out over a scratch earlier,” Russell pointed out, with a gesturing hand at his bandaged arm. 

“Okay, that’s different,” you said.

You wouldn’t say it now, but there were things that still concerned you about his job. You had a strong feeling that "private security" wasn’t all it entailed. However, after what he’d done for you, after what he’d done for Charlie, you knew that Russell Shaw was a good man.

There was something good here, and you didn’t want to lose it this time. You shifted in his arms, so you could face him.

“Look, we can sit down and figure all that out,” you said. “But do you want to at least try? Or…am I reading this wrong?”

Russell stared back at you ruefully. He raised a hand to touch your cheek, grazing your soft skin with his fingers. 

“No, you’re not,” he said. 

In fact, what he felt already ran deeper with you than he’d like to admit. He let out a long breath through his nose. 

“Okay,” he said at last. “If we’re gonna do this, let’s do it right, I guess. I’ll book a motel here in town for now. If things go well, I can…I don’t know, find an apartment.”

Your answering smile broke him down further, even as it warmed him inside. You turned over to circle your arms around his neck, and as an added bonus, pressing your bare breasts against his chest. You kissed his cheek with a happy hum. He laughed at your enthusiasm. He also accepted your sweet path of kisses that led to his lips. 

He groaned when it became not so sweet, with your tongue slipping hotly against his. His hold on your hips tightened.

“Uh oh. Baby, we can’t do this now,” he chuckled, even though your hand was already wandering down his body and under the sheets. You both were supposed to be getting ready to meet his brother and sister for lunch. 

“Five minutes,” you said against his lips. All the while, you were pushing him back onto the bed. You began to kiss down his chest, and lower still.   

Russell snorted. Right. 

But he wasn’t about to argue with you. He had a gut feeling…one that made him almost certain.

He’d found where he wanted to be. 

AN: Well, then! I hope you enjoyed the "happy ending." 😘 I always get a bit sad at the end of a series, but thank you to everyone who's followed the ride on Every Second Counts. Let me know what you thought of how it all shook out here at the end between her and Russell! 💜

Read the Sequel:

Want more ESC? Read the next one-shot, Lost Time (18+):

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.

▶️ Keep Reading: Lost Time

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[hailtothepumpkinqueen]

(This is probably the longest thing I've ever written, around 4.5k words, but it wouldn't leave my head til I made it real lol

From Shane's perspective. No one had seen the farmer all day, and he's the only one who goes to check on her. Lot of talking over drinks ensues.)

Everybody Talks

Gossip was nothing new for Shane. In a small community like Pelican Town, gossip was the lifeblood and social currency that kept it running. No "secret" was ever truly secret, everyone knew everyone else's dirty laundry. It was the number one pastime and practically a professional sport here. He himself knew far more than he ever cared to learn from his spot in the Saloon(and been the topic of discussion more times than he could count), but he at least had the good sense to drink his beer and keep his mouth shut.

And, on a Friday night like tonight, the not at all subtle gossip sessions were in full swing. Seemingly everyone clucking like excited hens about one topic in particular: the farmer.

Now, she wasn't a new topic of conversation either. The whole damn Valley was a-buzz about her before she even stepped off the bus, hungry for fresh meat. Hungry for new secrets to uncover and info to share. Speculating and predicting what kind of person she'd be purely based on their own biases. Not that he had been much better. Constantly hearing about her had soured his opinion before he even knew her name. Like hearing a harmless song on the radio so many times you'd grown to hate it. But, again, he at least kept his opinions to himself. Mostly. Not his fault his face gave away what he was thinking.

The specific reason why everyone was talking about her, however, pricked his ears up.

No one had seen her at all today. She hadn't come to Pierre's shop, she hadn't picked up one of her tools from Clint, and she was clearly absent from the Saloon on a Friday. No one could recall speaking to her and the requests on the bulletin board had gone ignored. It was as if she had just vanished into thin air.

But, in all the theories he heard bouncing around, he never once heard someone admit to going to her house to check on her. Fucking typical. Feign concern and then expect someone else to actually do something about it. Yoba forbid she was hurt or something..

The thought made his stomach churn and his chest tighten suddenly. Normally, someone dropping off the face of the earth wouldn't bother him. Maybe she just wanted to be left alone for once, that was her business. But, after their talk on the dock, knowing she was struggling, he couldn't help the nagging worry chewing on his insides.

Ah, fuck it. He wasn't gonna be able to enjoy his drink with his stomach in knots like this. Might as well be the one to at least make sure she was alive. Just get eyes on her and then back to the Saloon for a well deserved cold one. Easy peasy.

He found himself walking very quickly towards the farmhouse, shivering at more than just the chill of a particularly cold Fall wind as his brain swirled with worst case scenarios. Images conjured up by a mind that consumed horror movies on a regular basis and knowing the kind of damage farm equipment could cause. A new grisly mental picture cropping up every time he shook the previous one away. Blood and guts and exposed bone and lifeless eyes and--

The sharp sound of a dog barking ripped him from his gorey thoughts, making him freeze in place. The big ass german shepard he forgot she had was staring at him suspiciously, barking again as if to say "state your business!"

"Heeey, boy. Easy. I'm just here to check on your...master? Nope, that sounds gross. Owner? Uh, person?" He held a hand out for the dog to sniff, speaking softly and calmly. Hoping if he appeared chill he'd get to keep his appendage intact.

The dog, seemingly satisfied with that, licked his hand and looked back towards the wooded area of the property. Where Shane could hear, right on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps and see the light of a lamp growing brighter as it got closer.

Out of the treeline stepped the farmer, her dark hair pulled up in a bun for the first time he could remember seeing. It made her look taller somehow, maybe because her neck looked longer this way. Like a swan. She had an axe slung over her shoulder and presumably firewood under the other arm, the light he thought was from a lamp emanating from a ring on her pointer finger.

"Miller?" He called, more out of shock than anything. Inwardly relieved that she was okay and feeling dumb for worrying so much.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him before her face settled into an uncharacteristic scowl, setting the axe down with a muffled thump as it hit the dirt.

"Cooper." She replied coolly, breezing past him towards the house. Putting the firewood in its cubby and pointedly not looking at him. "Did Marnie send you? She'll get her vegetables first thing tomorrow, tell her to just be patient."

"Wh...no? My aunt didn't send me, I'm not her errand boy." He huffed, offput by the assumption and her weirdly icy demeanor. Yeesh, was this what it was like to be on the receiving end of his prickly attitude?

"Little late to be checking on the chickens, then. They're asleep by now. But the coop's over there if you wanna wake them up and say 'hi'." Nodding her head towards said coop and still not looking at him, throwing off her work gloves on the porch.

"I'm not here for that either. I--hey!" He reached out to grab her wrist as she moved to walk past him again. "Would you just stop a second? I came to see you, okay?"

She tensed up but didn't try to pull away from him. And, now that he was close, he could see her eyes were puffy and red, and her lip was quivering. She'd been crying again...

"You came all the way out here just to see me? Yeah, right." She gave a bitter sounding laugh and shook her head in disbelief, her voice cracking.

"It's true!" He insisted, leaning to try and look her in the eye. "The whole town's in a tizzy because no one had heard from you today. And I was..."

"Were you worried about me, Cooper?" She arched an eyebrow brow at him, the barest hint of an amused smirk turning up a corner of her mouth.

"I mean...a little? Maybe. If you wanna call it that." He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, releasing her wrist and stepping away. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't stuck in a well or somethin'."

She blew air out of her nose, and the smile became a little more pronounced, some of the tension visibly leaving her shoulders.

"Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. Just...ugh. It's so stupid..." She frowned again and looked away from him, putting her hands on her hips.

"Try me. I bet I've heard stupider."

She sighed heavily, sitting on the top step of the porch and digging a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. Holding it out to him to take. Which he did, carefully, smoothing it out to make sense of the scribbles he could see written on it.

It was a letter from her dad. Short and sweet, hardly anything worth getting upset over from what he could tell. Though a line about the dad retiring to the Fern Islands using her hard earned money admittedly rubbed him the wrong way.

"Uh...?" He didn't know what to say, handing the paper back to her with a quizzical expression. She sighed again.

"I have been begging him to come see the farm, to come see me, for weeks. But Kaiden has peewee gridball practice or JJ has a band recital or Debbie needed another couples' getaway, so it's always 'next time, next time, next time.' Good to know he's sooo impressed with my progress and expects me to pay for his retirement, though, I guess. Thanks a fucking lot, dad."

She crumpled the letter up again and chucked it into the dark with an angry grunt, letting out a laugh when the dog ran after it and gleefully ripped it to shreds.

"You call your mom by her first name?" He cringed as soon as the question left his mouth. Really, Shane? She's upset and that's what you focus on? Fuck's sake.

"What?" She gave him a bewildered look. "No. No, Debbie's my stepmom. Her and dad's kids are my half-brothers."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"...I'm still waiting to hear the stupid part." He said gently, daring to sit on the step next to her and putting them in close proximity again. And again she didn't flinch away from him, just scoot over a little to give him room.

"It's stupid to get my feelings hurt over a pattern of behavior I'm well aware of. I thought that, maybe, he'd be more interested in this place since Grandpa Miller was his dad and all. But nah. His new family is still the center of his universe and I'm only a blip on the radar when it's convenient." She shrugged like it didn't bother her, but he could see the way her jaw clenched and hear the way her voice wobbled. This was some deep rooted hurt. "Sorry. This is why I was a hermit today. No one wants to hear me whinge like an angsty teen because 'daddy doesn't love me'."

"You kidding? The old biddies back in town would kill to hear this kind of juicy family drama." He teased, pleased with himself when she laughed. Once again using humor to deal with the tough shit.

"Guess you'll have a good story to tell them then. Congrats." She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes good naturedly.

"Oh, yeah. You know me, biggest blabbermouth in Pelican Town. All your secrets traded away for the low, low price of cheap beer and spicy bar pretzels~."

She laughed again, throwing her head back and leaning against him for support. For some reason, the little gesture made his chest feel tight again, but in a good way? Weird.

"Well, I don't have spicy pretzels, but can I pay you in beer not to go blabbing my dumb family bullshit to everyone?" She waggled her eyebrows at him and smirked, whispering like they were making some kind of shady deal. He couldn't help but laugh at the silliness of it all.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I think I can agree to those terms." He held out his hand for her to shake, mirroring her smirk. She took his hand without hesitation and giggled, giving it a firm shake before using him as leverage to push herself to standing. Quickly disappearing into the farmhouse and leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He should leave. He had only wanted to make sure she was okay and head back. She was okay, physically anyway, just wanted to be left alone. He should leave. But she was offering him free beer...and honestly he preferred her company over everyone probably still gossiping about her in the Saloon. But did she want him to stay? Why would she? Half of the damn town was in love with her, all of them so much better than him, surely she'd prefer to be with anyone else than a miserable asshole. He should leave..

An amber colored glass bottle suddenly entering his line of sight startled him back to reality, blinking and looking up to where it had come from. She had returned without him realizing, holding out what he assumed was the beer she had promised while leaning over him. She'd let her hair down again, dark locks flowing over her shoulder in a curtain. The porch light illuminating her from behind like a halo, and she was smiling. At him. Seemingly content with their close proximity to each other. It honestly made his breath catch in his throat, and again he didn't understand why his body was acting this way.

"You good there, bud?" She chuckled, surely realizing he was gawking at her at the same moment he did. Mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a dying fish as he took the bottle from her.

"Uh. Yeah. Just spaced out a minute. Sorry." He cleared his throat awkwardly, grateful that the beer was already open so he could take a swig to distract himself. Surprised when it tasted much better than the cheap swill JojaMart was selling, and even more surprised when he went to check the label, only to see there wasn't one. "Where did you get this? I don't recognize the, uh, lack of brand."

"Oh. Um, I made it." She said shyly, sitting next to him on the step and looking into her own bottle. "Sorry, I brewed it. I think that's the right term."

He blinked. "What?"

"I brewed it." She repeated, her voice even quieter. "Turns out Grandpa Miller had a little brewery in the cellar, including actually really detailed instructions on how to, y'know, brew stuff. Beer, ale, wine, mead, et cetera. So, I figured I'd give it a shot. And when...if my dad came to visit, we could celebrate the farm's success with a few beers made from wheat from the farm. But, you already know how that story ends.."

He could feel himself doing a dying fish impression again, trying to process what she had told him. This woman went out of her way to learn how to brew her own beer for her dad, who has clearly never made his daughter a priority a day in her life. Beer that he was now drinking because she was gracious enough to share. Gracious enough to tell him all this to begin with.

"Miller, you're incredible." The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them, soft and earnest.

She spluttered and giggled at the sudden praise, seemingly torn between hiding behind her hair and tucking it behind her ear, pale face very noticeably turning red. It was cute, she was cute. How had he not noticed that before?

"Shut up. You're just saying that 'cause I'm bribing you with beer." She pushed at him playfully, still frazzled by his compliment. He made a mock offended gasp and pushed her back, hiding a grin behind taking another swig of beer.

"I'm serious." He assured her. "And if your dad doesn't realize that, he's a brain dead moron."

Her expression softened at that, eyes suddenly shiny with what looked like unshed tears. A watery little laugh escaping her before she took a drink of her own beer.

"I...thank you, Shane." She said quietly, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "And thank you for checking on me. Sorry I was so snippy with you before."

He scoffed and gave her a mildly bemused look. "Really? After all the times I've been a dick to you? 'Bout time you threw some it back at me honestly."

"I know, I know. I just...I'm not used to people remembering I exist unless they want something from me, I guess. No one ever just wants me, no one cares about just me. So, when I saw you I made an assumption, and I was wrong. So, I'm sorry." Her posture sunk and she curled into herself a little, fingernails tapping against the glass bottle.

Well, fuck. No wonder she always seemed so eager to help out everyone in town, including him. She didn't think she existed unless she was being useful. The idea of that broke his heart, which he didn't think was still possible.

"How many beers do I owe you not to tell anyone that?" She piped up again before he could respond, looking to him with a weak little smile. Obviously taking a page from his playbook and joking to lighten the mood. He chuckled softly, pretending to mull over a decision while tapping his chin.

"How many you got?" He eventually grinned, holding up his almost empty bottle.

They ended up drinking through her entire stash, sitting on the porch and talking for what must have been hours about...well, about a lot of things. She told him more about her dad, who never really tried to bond with her because she was a girl, and he couldn't figure out how to "relate" to a daughter. About her controlling mother, who cut contact with her when she quit her secure job to move to the uncertainty of Pelican Town. Clearly waiting for her to fail and come crawling back to the mom's "good graces". He, in turn, told her he hasn't spoken to either of his parents since he moved out almost two decades ago and was all the better for it. Not that he had much of a relationship with either of them to begin with. Toasting to the hope they didn't turn out like their parents.

She told him that before she was a data entry clerk for Joja, she was on track to becoming a professional ballerina. Until her achilles tendon snapped in the middle of a recital, effectively killing her mother's dream to live vicariously through her. So he told her of his varsity gridball days, how his dream of going pro was crushed when he tore his ACL during practice. She showed him the scar running up her heel, he showed her the scar running down his knee, and they laughed at an alternate universe where they'd be retiring from their lucrative professions by now. Toasting to knowing when it was going to rain before the weatherman because of joint pain.

They talked about music, about movies, about tattoos, about their animals, about anything they could think of until eventually petering out into a comfortable silence. One she broke after a long moment with a soft laugh.

"What?" He glanced at her curiously.

"Nothing. It's just...you're really easy to talk to when you're not being a complete asshole." She grinned, tongue poking out between her teeth to show she was teasing. He laughed, shoving at her playfully and pulling her back when he almost pushed her off the step by mistake.

"Well, you're really easy to talk to when you're not being the town kiss ass." He countered with an equally playful smirk, earning a laugh from her in return.

"Okay, fair. I deserve that."

She was still giggling as she polished off her drink, swaying a little where she sat and clearly intoxicated at this point, much to his amusement. Before she suddenly leaned into his space, close enough he could feel her warm breath fan across his skin. His own breath seeming to get caught somewhere in his sternum, body frozen in place.

"Did you know...when you smile, it's like your eyes light up and I can see how green they are. I never noticed before, but it's real obvious when we're close like this. S'pretty shade of green, too.." She relayed this to him in a hushed tone, almost in awe of this "revelation". He felt his stomach do a somersault and a blush creep across his face and neck like a wildfire. He and the word "pretty" had never been used in the same sentence, especially not from the mouth of someone like her. He didn't know how to deal with it.

"Oh Yoba, you are drunk. I think it's time to cut you off for the night." He huffed out an awkward laugh, scrambling to his feet and almost tripping over himself in the process. Brain screaming at him to run away again. Coward. Feeling like an absolute jerk when her expression fell into a panicked one.

"Oh. Oh shit, I'm sorry. That was weird, huh? I'm so sorry, I just said that without thinking. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Fuck. I'm sorry." The words tumbling out so fast they almost blurred together, desperate to apologize for the perceived slight.

"Hey, hey. Relax. It's not you, alright? Me and compliments just don't mix. S'not your fault, okay? Promise." Using the same gentle tone he would when Jas needed comfort after a bad dream, one meant to soothe fears.

Thankfully, she did relax a little, the worried crease in her brow smoothing out. Looking between him and the house a moment before sighing.

"We probably should call it a night, though.." she frowned, almost sounding disappointed. But that was almost certainly just wishful thinking on his part. "It's getting late, I didn't mean to keep you so long. I know Fridays at the Stardrop are a town tradition, and I'm sure Emily's wondering where you went."

"Aaah, she's so busy tending to everyone else, she probably didn't notice I slipped out. Besides..." He rubbed the back of his neck and kicked at a pebble in the dirt, feeling a bit bashful all the sudden. "I had a good time talking and drinking with you."

Her face lit up at that, practically beaming at him before looking away again. Actually twirling her hair around her finger like girls do in the movies, but it was endearing when she did it somehow. "Yeah? Me, too. This was nice. Definitely made a shitty day a lot better."

That shouldn't have made him as happy as it did, but he couldn't deny the warmth spreading through his chest at the idea that he had made her day better just by being there. Her happiness was infectious, he supposed. No other reason for it.

The good feeling was quickly snuffed by the realization of how far he was going to have to walk to get home. All the way back into town, down past the Saloon, past Emily's house, past Sam's house down the path that finally lead to Aunt Marnie's house. Buh.

"You know you can just cut through my farm, right? It's much faster." She piped up again, startling him. Was she a mind reader?? Or was he talking out loud without realizing?

"Oh. Uh. You sure? If my aunt sees me, she'll know I was here and probably tell her whole aerobics class." Already cringing at what stories could be spun up by a bunch of women with nothing better to do than speculate on someone's (nonexistent) love life. She deserved better than to have her reputation hitched to someone like him.

"Eh, let 'em talk. They're gonna do it anyway." She shooed the idea away dismissively, getting to her feet with a groan and meeting him where he stood. "Here. Gimme your hand."

He complied, confused, watching her take off the glowing ring she was wearing and easily slip it onto his middle finger. Feeling heat prickle up the back of his neck as she continued to hold his hand and meet his eyes with a little smile.

"It's pretty dark that way. Wouldn't want you getting hurt tripping over something. Or have you fall in a well." Her tone light and teasing, using something he had said earlier back at him. Seemingly unaware of the affect she was having on him as she absentmindedly stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. He swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry, carefully (reluctantly) removing his hand from hers to focus on the ring giving off an absurd amount of light for being so small.

"Don't you...don't you need this, though?" He asked hoarsely, scarcely able to hear himself over his heart doing acrobatics in his chest.

"Well, I'm going to see you tomorrow, aren't I?" She arched an eyebrow at him, an amused smirk gracing her lips.

"Are you?" Had they made plans and he'd already forgotten? Focus! Stop staring at her mouth!

"Unless you suddenly don't live with Marnie anymore. I already told you I owe her some vegetables, and I was gonna drop them off first thing in the morning. Figured I'd get the ring back from you then."

Ah. Of course. She was being "helpful", and he just happened to live where she already had plans of going. It wasn't like she was going out of her way just to see him. That would be ridiculous.

"Right. Yeah, for sure. Guess I'll see you later then." He mumbled, flexing his fingers as if to shake off the lingering feeling of her hand on his. It didn't help.

"Or I can just walk you home?" She offered, tilting her head at him. "Save you the trouble of worrying about if I need the ring or not."

"And have you walk your drunk ass all the way back by yourself? Nuh uh. Don't worry about it. You gotta come by the house anyway, I'll see you tomorrow."

He gave a little nod and turned to leave, only to be stopped by her grabbing the elbow of his jacket sleeve. Swiveling around to glance over his shoulder and give her a quizzical look. She was chewing on her lower lip, eyes downcast but still holding onto his sleeve. And maybe it was just a trick of the light, but he could swear her face was flushed again.

"I wanted to...I wanted to thank you again for tonight." She said softly, the barest hint of a wobble in her voice. Releasing his jacket to tuck her hair behind her ear again. "I really did have a good time. And, um, and couldn't let you leave without saying 'good night'. So, good night, Shane."

"Good night, Katherine." He breathed out a quiet laugh, warmth spreading through his chest again. Putting his hands in his pockets (which didn't muffle the ring's light at all somehow) and beginning the much shorter trek home for real this time, smiling to himself as he walked past a patch of fairy roses growing. He'd have to tell Jas about that, and about the fact "Miss Kat" used to be a ballerina when she was Jas's age.

He could feel himself walking briskly, finding he suddenly didn't care if Aunt Marnie caught him walking from the direction of the old farmhouse. So what if she told people? Would it be the worst thing in the world if people assumed something happened? Not really. And, if he thought about it, he almost wanted to get caught. Wanted people to know everyone's favorite farmer spent time with him. Alone.

Huh.

That...that was an interesting feeling. One he did not have the mental bandwidth to deal with tonight. That was a problem for tomorrow Shane. Or next week Shane.

Or never. Never was preferable. He was too old to be feeling...whatever the hell this was. And it didn't matter anyway. They had just talked, that was all it was.

That was all it'd ever be.

[hwa-stars]

Passenger Princess

Genre: fluff

Pairing: idol Choi Jongho x fem named reader

Summary: Since your boyfriend has his own car, why don't he help you drive?

Word count: 1.5k

Jongho sat sprawled out on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV, while Minseo paced back and forth in front of him. Her arms were crossed, eyes narrowing as they landed on him.

She had been trying to convince him to give her driving lessons weeks ago, and now, she was determined to break him down.

"Jongho." She said, her tone edging on a whine. "You’ve had that car for months now, and you still haven’t let me drive or teach me more. What’s the deal?"

He glanced up at her, already knowing where this conversation was headed. “I told you. It’s brand new, and I want to keep it that way.”

"It’s a car, not a museum exhibit! Cars are meant to be driven, you know?" Minseo threw her hands up hands up in frustration.

Jongho sighed, shifting uncomfortably. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her—he trusted her with pretty much everything.

But his car? The one he had saved for and just recently purchased? The thought of something happening to it, even a tiny scratch, made his stomach churn.

“I trust you, but anything could happen." He said cautiously, trying not to provoke her further.

Minseo rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with his reasoning. "You’re being dramatic. You've seen how much effort I have made. What’s the worst that could happen? You don’t trust me to drive?"

“No, it’s not that—”

“Then what?” She interrupted, her hands on her hips. "Come on baby, how am I supposed to get better at driving if you never let me practice? You can sit right next to me and guide me when you think I'm doing something wrong but I’ll be careful, I promise."

She had a point, and Jongho knew it. For weeks, she’d been bringing it up, and for weeks, he had been putting her off, giving her the same excuses.

Minseo wasn’t the type to give up easily, and the way she was standing now, staring him down with a determined gleam in her eyes, made it clear that he was running out of time. He either had to give in or face her endless pestering.

"Although, if you don't want, I can't force you." She sighed, looking at him. "I can ask Wooyoung, Yunho, or Hongjoong if they can teach me in their cars. If you don't feel comfortable, you don't have to worry."

Jongho rubbed the back of his neck, knowing he was about to lose this battle. "Alright, that's enough." He sighed, defeated. "Fine. I’ll teach you how to drive thats what boyfriends are.”

Minseo’s face lit up instantly, her lips curving into a wide smile. “Really?”

“Yes." He muttered, standing up from the couch. “But if anything happens to my car, I’m holding you responsible.” Minseo laughed, already grabbing her jacket.

“Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen. I’ll be extra careful, you’ll see.”

Jongho grabbed the keys with a sigh, his heart already racing at the thought of Minseo behind the wheel of his beloved car. But the excitement in her eyes softened his worries just a bit. After all, he had promised to her girlfriend.

☆☆☆☆☆

The sun was low in the sky when they arrived at an empty parking lot, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. Minseo stood by the driver’s side door, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet as Jongho handed her the keys. His fingers lingered for a moment, and he cleared his throat, letting go reluctantly.

“Alright, first things first,” Jongho said, sliding into the passenger seat and buckling his seatbelt with a firm click. “Adjust your seat and mirrors. Make sure you’re comfortable and can reach everything easily.”

Minseo’s hands shook slightly as she adjusted the seat and mirrors. She glanced over at him, searching for reassurance.

“You’re doing great." He said softly. “Take your time.”

With a deep breath, Minseo placed her hands on the steering wheel, positioning them just as she had read in the manual.

“Like this?” She asked, glancing at Jongho.

“Exactly.” He said, his voice even and calm. “Now, remember to press the brake before you shift into drive.”

She did as instructed, and the car purred softly as it shifted into gear. The silence hung between them, and for a moment, Jongho’s grip on the edge of his seat tightened. Minseo noticed and smirked.

“Relax.” Minseo said with a grin as she chuckled at her boyfriend's face. “You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”

“Maybe a little.” He admitted with a chuckle. “But I trust you. Just take it slow.”

Minseo nodded, focusing as she gently pressed the gas pedal. The car rolled forward smoothly, and her eyes lit up with excitement. They made slow laps around the lot, with Jongho giving pointers here and there—“Check your mirrors,” “Ease into the turn,” “Brake a little earlier next time.”

At one point, she miscalculated a turn and the car jolted slightly.

“Oh!” She gasped, her face immediately going red as she lifted her foot off the pedal. “I’m so sorry.” Jongho reached out, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. Mistakes happen. Just breathe and try again.” His tone was steady, warmth evident in his eyes.

Minseo took a shaky breath, her nerves calming as she felt the gentle weight of his hand.

“Thanks.” She whispered, regaining her composure. She took the turn again, this time more smoothly, and Jongho’s smile widened.

“See? You’re already improving.” He said, pride lacing his voice.

They spent the next hour driving around the lot, practicing turns, braking, and even a few parking attempts. Each small mistake was met with encouragement, and Jongho never once raised his voice or showed impatience.

If anything, he seemed to grow more relaxed as Minseo gained confidence, and by the end, he was sitting back with a content smile.

“Alright." He finally said as she parked the car and turned off the engine. “I think you’re ready for more than just parking lots.”

☆☆☆☆☆

The lessons continued over the next few weeks, moving to quiet neighborhood streets and eventually to more bustling areas. Jongho guided her through parallel parking, three-point turns, and navigating intersections.

There were moments of doubt, like when she stopped too suddenly at a light or hesitated before making a turn, but Jongho was always there to reassure her.

“Remember." He said say low and soothing. “You’ve got this. Trust yourself as much as I trust you.”

And slowly, Minseo did.

One afternoon, Jongho turned to her with a proud smile after she executed a flawless turn.

“You’re ready for your driving test.” Minseo’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open.

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” He replied, squeezing her hand.

The day of the test came, and Minseo was fidgeting as they waited for her turn. Jongho sat beside her, calm and confident, and gave her a playful nudge.

“Nervous?”

“A little." She admitted, eyes darting to the door where the instructor would appear any minute.

“Don’t be." He said, his voice a quiet anchor. “You’re ready.”

The test itself felt like an eternity, but when she returned with the instructor and a beaming smile, Jongho’s heart swelled with pride.

“I passed!” She shouted, running to him.

He laughed, catching her as she threw her arms around him.

“I knew you would,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

☆☆☆☆☆

Months later, Jongho tossed his car keys to Minseo without a second thought. They were heading out to the KQ building, and he didn’t even blink as she caught the keys and slid into the driver’s seat.

“You’re letting me drive again?” Minseo asked with a smirk, starting the car. “You’ve really changed, Jongho.” He shrugged, getting comfortable in the passenger seat.

“You’re licensed now, aren’t you? Besides, you’re a better driver than I am.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Minseo grinned as she pulled out of the driveway. “I’m putting that on record.”

Whenever the other members of Ateez found out, they couldn’t help but tease Jongho.

“Minseo drives your car now?” Wooyoung had said one day, eyes wide with mock disbelief. “You don’t even let me drive it!”

“Looks like someone’s the passenger princess now.” San added, winking.

Minseo never let him live that down. Each time they set off, she’d grin and say. “Ready, passenger princess?”

Jongho would roll his eyes, but the playful banter made him smile. Sitting in the passenger seat and watching her laugh, with the wind blowing through her hair and that familiar look of confidence on her face, Jongho felt something deeper than pride.

It was happiness, pure and simple, seeing Minseo shine, feeling her joy, made every teasing comment worth it.

As they drove through the city that evening, with the glow of streetlights casting a warm hue over everything and quite music in the background.

“I like having you as my passenger.” She reached over and squeezed his hand as Jongho chuckled.

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” He take his hand and kissed the back of it and laced with his.

And he really mean it.

[artist-issues]

I'm tired of being disappointed. By far the best part of the movie was the what-could-have-been in the soundtrack. Mufasa had seeds of being good but it suffered from a lack of focus and terrible visual language, so it was ultimately unsatisfying. 

I think it's actually worse when you can see the threads and interesting seeds of a good story just wasted and abandoned under a pile of Bad Storytelling. 

Lack of Focus:

The movie was trying to say something about Bravery, and Bloodlines, and Vengeance, and Going Against the Status Quo, and Self-Reflection, and Loyalty, and Family, and Relying on One Another Instead of Just Yourself, and Belief in Yourself, and even Vague Spirituality, all at once. So it wound up giving the movie-equivalent of two or three disjointed sentences about each topic, and never actually made a clear point about any of them. 

For example, Mufasa is afraid of water. Rafiki says that this is because Mufasa is afraid of his own reflection, even though the audience would have been assuming that it was because Mufasa almost drowned as a cub. Then in the climax, Mufasa and Kiros are battling underwater and Mufasa remembers his foster-mother telling him to close his eyes and use his other senses to hunt. So he does, and he realizes I guess through the currents, that a big rock is falling toward them, and pushes Kiros into it.

What does that tell us? That Mufasa was taught to hunt like a lioness, so he can use those skills when he needs to. Which he's already been doing with no hesitation for the whole movie. Just because he's in water during the final battle, doesn't mean that's a satisfying conclusion to what they were doing with water, as a symbol for his character.

IF Mufasa had been embarrassed about his lioness-observational-skills, thinking it made him less of a lion, or weird, and therefore rarely used those skills because he was always trying to be more like Taka or the other males—conserving energy, not being mindful of what's around him—THEN finally embraced his weird skills at the end, while in water fighting—that would be something thematic. 

You would be able to say, "he's learned not to be afraid of where his skill-set is, as a leader, ergo: he's learned 'not to be afraid of his reflection/the water.'"

But that's not what happened. Because they didn't devote time to developing what, exactly, Mufasa is afraid of seeing in himself, or WHY he's afraid. Because everything he does succeeds. He wins his first race, wins his first fight, wins the favor of his adoptive father, survives diving into water even though he's afraid of it, wins at saving sarabi and then wins her affections even when he's actively trying not to—there's no reason for him to be trying not to. Not any that tie back into "Mufasa is afraid of himself." There's no reason ever shown for this weird halfhearted insecurity he sometimes has, and has to overcome.

So then it's not compelling. And that sort of thing is sprinkled all over the movie.

They keep mentioning "Milele," which means "forever" in Swahili, but that whole concept is alternately described as a "dream," or "a place you feel inside of you," but basically it's also a physical location that becomes the Pridelands. And nobody ever clarifies what exactly Milele is. It's treated like a fantasy concept or a spiritual vision or a physical utopia whenever the film needs it to be those things. But if it's never clearly defined, it's not compelling, which sucks when Milele is what the characters are "searching for." Another example of starting a concept and then never following it through to a satisfying conclusion.

They have seeds of Mufasa being the only lion to ask for help and be willing to cooperate with other animals besides lions—but they are few and far-between. He doesn't ask Rafiki for help; Rafiki sort of convinces him not to eat him. And asking animals for help like he does with the elephants or the Pridelands animals isn't unique to him; the first to do it is Sarabi, who willingly accepts and relies on Zazu despite others' scorn—and MUFASA is one of the ones who is scornful, initially! So they plant seeds for the big climax where he's the only voice that can unite animals across species by the climax, but they're don't water or tend to or help those seeds to grow. So the climax feels a little out of nowhere and less compelling.

If they had just focused on one of these things, it would've been tighter and more emotionally impactful.

Except NO, it wouldn't have been. Because you will have a hard time connecting, emotionally, to photorealistic-CGI lions even if the story's focus was tight.

Bad Animation and Filming

Lions in real life move with too much weightiness and heavy-animal-breathing for you to commit to that weight 100% of the time AND have good character acting. You can only really commit wholeheartedly to one or the other.

So you can tell in this movie the eyes are bigger and more expressive than in the first CGI Lion King. But that doesn't save it. It doesn't cut it. 

When Taka is giving Sarabi his last longing look, he just looks like a vaguely displeased large animal. There's no human heartbreak in his expression. 

When Mufasa is singing a fast line about not knowing how to respond to Sarabi, he should be swinging his head back and forth, like he's looking around for something in desperation—because that's what the song sounds like—and his walking, if he's walking, should be fast. A cross between running from something and searching for something. Because that's what's happening in the emotion of the song.

But lions don't move that fast, because they're heavy. And when they're looking around for something, they do it with their noses and long head-turns in sweeping motions. No fast eyes-darting-around. Certainly no human conflict of desire in their faces. So photorealistic Mufasa can't do any of those things. Which sucks, because the actions of the characters and the action in the scene should match the emotions they're feeling, and the emotion the audience is supposed to be feeling. But it can't, so everything is flat and boring. 

And even if you could connect to photorealistically emotional lions—you might, we connect with our pets emotionally all the time—you wouldn't get the chance because the film avoids their faces every time something emotionally interesting is happening. 

For example: my favorite part of the song "I Always Wanted a Brother" is when the beat appears to hard-drive, and it feels like a "stop everything" moment, to match Taka's outrage that someone is dissing his brother. And he goes, "what did you say 'bout my brother? That's not a stray, that's my brother! You stay away from my brother 'cuz I say so."

That whole moment, I'm envisioning Taka getting all up in another animal's face, maybe taking a swipe at it, throwing his little weight around and puffing his chest, fearsome-face. The song FEELS like that's what's happening; like he's going on and on,  exploding with insistence and protectiveness.

Something similar to the "stop everything-angry" vibe of this:

But in the movie, is it a close-up shot of Taka invading another animal's space? Does the camera follow him from behind in a slow zoom, and then when he says, "what did you say bout my brother?" He spins and looks directly into the camera (in the direction of the animal he's talking to) and the camera stops while Taka charges closer? Do we get to see his angry face at all?

No.

The camera does this stupid boring thing where we, the audience, are in the branches of a tree (where the animal Taka is addressing is safely out of reach) and it pans slowly along, unfocused, like we're casually passing this interaction by. Taka's face is far away on the distant ground and you can't really see it's expression, his body language isn't doing anything interesting (he's just standing there for the whole part of the song) and at one point because of the panning, the tree the camera is in has a branch that actually hides Taka completely from view during the song.

We don't even get to see the animal he's talking to react. All we see is the back of its head.

They do this over and over in the movie. When Rafiki is finally running to meet his long lost brother, we get the back of his body, one quick snapshot of the underside of his face, and then it's flyover drone-style shots. When Sarabi and Mufasa decide to love each other, it's a close-up on the backs of their chins; no eyes, no mouths, no head-body-language. When Sarabi and Mufasa are singing a very back-and-forth interactive duet to one another, the camera is, again, far-off and distant for most of the song, rotating slowly around a landscape that they're lion-lumbering through. Boring. Distant. Wasteful.

Sometimes the movie tries to match the emotional pace in the way it's shot. When Kiros is readying a killing blow and Taka has moments to decide if he's going to save his brother, that scene cuts well between the raised paw and Taka and Mufasa's faces—for example. But those are the most basic ways to shoot those scenes, and scenes like them are few and far-between.

What it needed was one overarching idea to connect the character threads, and give them time to unspool. And then it really, desperately needed to be animated traditionally so that the lions could emote like humans.

So! I'll probably be writing a series of posts exploring what could've been to correct the fumble. Because I did enjoy the concepts in Mufasa.

[aonemanarmy]

Vincent's directness was something that Sephiroth could appreciate. He'd long grown tired of dealing with humans in general due to their evasive and treacherous behavior, so not having to do so was a refreshing change. Yet, he couldn't help but feel there must be some hidden motivation beneath the gunman's words as if he were setting up some sort of trap to ensnare him once more.

“I do not desire Jenova as a mother, she is my mother.”

After all this time Sephiroth thought that Vincent would've understood that fact by now. How many times did he have to explain that he was created from Jenova? Her blood ran through his veins and despite her vicious nature she was still the only mother he had and would ever know. It was ironically fitting that a creature such as her had birthed a monster like him, but unlike Jenova he intended to transcend beyond what fate she'd chosen for him.

So...What does ‘mother’ mean to you?

The only frame of reference that Sephiroth had for a mother was what he'd read in books or heard second-hand from others. What he was able to gather from those sources was that a mother was someone that was supposed to protect and care for their child, someone that wasn't meant to ever hurt or betray them. They were supposed to be the one person in the world he was capable of trusting, which was made the sting of Jenova's betrayal all the more devastating, but he'd come to realize what he thought he knew was only an idealized version of reality.

In reality everyone was selfish and would hurt each other so long as it benefited them in some way. So why would Mother be no different?

As he pondered the question he looked out into the distance where the cave hidden behind a waterfall was supposed to be. It would be an arduous and grueling trek back, but it wouldn't be the first time that the madman had undergone such trials and it certainly wouldn't be the last. If anything, through the use of his avatar he needn't be concerned about frivolous things such as food, drink, or rest because he was already far beyond basic mortal needs. All he needed to do was to walk and everything else would easily fall into place, but the same couldn't be said of the gunman who despite his alterations still had his limitations.

Vincent appeared to be aware of his own limitations at least, which was more than could be said about most humans. Still, looking the ex-Turk over Sephiroth seriously doubted the man could make another intense trip back, at least not without having some sort of recovery time.

A rumble passed beneath their feet from a distance causing snow to rain down from the scattering of pines nearby and several rocks to break free and tumble down the mountainside. The WEAPONS were on the move and sooner or later they would make an appearance, but Sephiroth was hardly concerned about it when he already had Jenova to contend with, who was clearly displeased by the current situation. She made that displeasure known with the persistent pain behind his eyes, one that spiked sharply at Vincent's mention of her name.

“Do you think yourself fit to make such a journey so soon?” He asked, studying the other man and wondering if the gunman might need to be dragged there as he doubted Vincent wanted Sephiroth to be left alone with his treasured person.

Vincent seemingly shrugged off his question and began to walk back down the mountain. Sephiroth was hardly deterred by that though, figuring the gunman was simply being stubborn and if he wanted to do that then so be it; he would drag him the rest of the way if need be. It was with that thought in mind that he set off after Vincent as they once more made their way out into the unforgiving wilderness and onto the road back south.

******

Progress had been slow – at least in Sephiroth's mind whose super-human standards were beyond any ordinary human's capabilities – but at long last they both stood before the waterfall that hid behind it the one that Vincent sought. Looking at it the madman was far from impressed, but even he had to admit there was a distinct beauty and serenity to the scenery. It made him wonder if the entire planet hadn't looked similar long ago back before the humans had corrupted it for their own selfish gain.

As he watched the steady cascade of water strike the crystalline pool below he wondered why Vincent's person would remain here after their initial meeting. If they had thought to remain hidden then surely they would've moved onto another location by now, but that didn't appear to be the case and simply looking at the place caused Jenova to sink her claws deep into his mind yet again.

'You waste your time humoring such nonsense.'

Sephiroth had considered that, but he also drawn the conclusion that he really had nothing to lose in the process either. Regardless of what Vincent tried to do the ex-Turk stood to lose far more than he ever did by trying to double-cross him.

'He seeks to manipulate you and willingly you go into his trap.'

Then I will kill what he treasures most.

In Sephiroth's mind that was the end of the conversation. He once more pushed Jenova back, purposely blocking out her voice and ignoring the steady stabs of pain behind his eyes as he glanced over at Vincent. The man certainly looked worse for the wear, but at the end of the day that was of no real concern to him since this was Vincent's idea in the first place.

“You believe that this person of yours decided to remain here after your visit?”

Though Vincent was keen to any sort of reaction Sephiroth might have expressed, Sephiroth remained poker-faced as ever. Though it was somewhat expected, it did give Vincent pause. He had hoped to see something to indicate whether or not Jenova still had her talons deep in the silver-headed man, or if Sephiroth was not independent. Unfortunately, the interaction yielded no fruit on this matter. Nevertheless, Vincent knew it was too premature to place assumptions. At the very least, it did tell Vincent that Sephiroth hadn’t gained any further knowledge regarding Lucrecia.

Perhaps Jenova was indeed actively stifling any and all connection with Sephiroth’s human mother. If so, Vincent knew what he was about to undertake was going to either yield disappointment, devastation, or a long overdue release of emotions. Sephiroth’s sanity was one thing. But Lucrecia’s safety was another. Even though death had become a stranger to Lucrecia, there was no guarantee Sephiroth didn’t possess the power to undo her from that prison, especially now that he was channeling new strength for his awakening. Regardless. If the world was indeed going to end, Vincent didn’t want to regret depriving Lucrecia of her son the second time. As soon as Sephiroth uttered his response, Vincent’s brows slightly lifted in confusion.

‘Claim’… ‘control’…?

It was a curious way of thinking. But the more Vincent listened to Sephiroth’s words, the more he began to understand. Instead of correcting Sephiroth, Vincent allowed the Ex-SOLDIER to express himself. Even being cherished or appreciated was something Sephiroth had no affiliation with. It was a truly a pitiful form of existence. Every ounce of positive human connection had been thoroughly barricaded from gaining access to Sephiroth. And yet if so, why was he so drawn to a motherly figure? Surely, his natural instincts for a paternal connection had been the driving force. Just as Vincent was about to speak, he saw Sephiroth flinch; whatever pain he had was enough to cause him to drop Hojo’s head. Instinctively, Vincent motioned to lift his hand to steady Sephiroth, but he withheld himself and drew his hand back in the event Sephiroth noticed. Though Vincent couldn’t be sure, he had a hunch the pain had been brought on by Jenova. Whatever her motives, she wanted to keep Sephiroth secured behind a wall of lies. This only made the ex-Turk more determined to carry out his plan. Alert to Sephiroth drawing his sword, he watched as Sephiroth made quick work of Hojo’s head and converting it into a hideous decorative piece. Vincent lightly furrowed his brow, not necessarily at the gruesome display, but more so at the message behind it. The threat was unmistakable. But so was the Meteor that was tearing through the clouds, not to mention his companions who he perceived to have either escaped or been caught by Shinra. There was a chance Sephiroth could kill Lucrecia, yes. But there was also a chance that Sephiroth would behold his true mother, and the course of the planet’s fate could be altered. And if anything else, he would have at lease broken the barrier between Lucrecia and her son. The disdain in Sephiroth’s voice didn’t go unnoticed, but Vincent remained visibly unmoving. “You’re mistaken,” Vincent stated boldly. “She doesn’t want to claim you, use you, or control you. You desired Jenova as a mother, did you not?” The gunslinger asked calmly. “So...What does ‘mother’ mean to you?” Allowing Sephiroth to mull over the question, Vincent looked out over the snowy horizon once more, the winds catching his cloak and brushing passed his long raven-colored hair. It was a long ways towards the cave, at least a couple days of brutal straight-shot travel and that was without any sort of delay or distractions. They would have to traverse through the entire mountain and snow, cross into the desert, and then traverse the mountains to cross Nibelheim. They had gone through it before. But if Sephiroth had indeed transcended into a higher form of power, Vincent knew he’d end up slowing Sephiroth down this time. Perhaps he could use it to his advantage… he had to also find out what had become of Cloud and the others. There was a chance they would also happen across WEAPONS along the way. “We might be able to make it in less than three days. It’s just beyond Nibelheim.” Vincent then turned half way to meet Sephiroth’s gaze. “You are your own individual with your own will,” Vincent assured. “She doesn’t seek to use or control you. She’s not Jenova or Shinra.” Vincent left off giving more details for the time being and turned his attention towards their destination, knowing the latter words would likely trigger something from Jenova. “This reunion… it’s been long overdue.” Taking a step into the snowy grounds, Vincent began to travel onward, the harsh winds tearing at his cape and once again sending a painful reminder of the bitter cold. But none of that mattered. Time was running out.

[cybershock24601]

Date Night

Rook had to check Maps three times to be sure she had the right address but the imposing wrought iron gates in front of her were apparently the right place even if Rook couldn’t even see a house behind them. Well, only one way to find out for sure, Rook thought as she leaned out the window to punch in the gate code Lucanis had texted her and thankfully it worked.

As Rook drove Bianca down the long cobblestone driveway she came to the firm conclusion that Lucanis definitely lived here and this sort of elegant opulence was exactly the sort of home she would expect a guy with the sort of firm opinions on artisanal coffee and proper thread count sheets to come from. Also that the landscaping here was absolutely immaculate. The hydrangeas were the just the perfect shade of blue and Rook knew from Harding’s trouble with them that it was tricky thing to do.

Finally, Rook reached what must have been Lucanis’ house which was less a house and more of a mansion and less of a mansion more of an actual fucking castle. Oh yeah, this place was explaining a whole lot about Lucanis’ odder idiosyncrasies.

Not that Rook cared too much about that as she put Bianca in park and hopped out of the car with the giant bouquet she dragged Harding with her to pick out. Rook had thought about getting something more original than some red roses but Lucanis appreciated the classics so two dozen red roses it was.

With a skip in her step and the accompanying jingle from the chains hanging off her belt, Rook approached the imposing carved wood double doors and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. Rook didn’t even have time to start getting nervous standing outside in her scuffed up Docs and second hand outfit in front of such an imposing manor before the door was wrenched open to reveal Lucanis.

With Lucanis all dressed up with his hair slicked back, beard trimmed, and in a suit that did amazing things to his figure, Rook thought she could be forgiven for panicking and thrusting the bouquet right into his chest with a high pitched, “For you!”

Lucanis let out a soft little oof but took the roses with delicate care and looked at them with the softest, sappiest smile Rook had ever seen him wear before he looked right back at Rook with those lethally big, beautiful brown eyes of his eyes as he said in a gentle, quiet voice dripping with barely contained joy, “Rook, you shouldn’t have.”

Rook barely stopped herself from doing a little fist pump at Lucanis’ reaction because she clearly knocked it out of the park with the bouquet as she watched Lucanis gently stroke the petals of the roses. Instead of doing anything to embarrass herself, Rook managed to play it cool and say “Of course I should have. Would this have really been a proper date without flowers?”

Rook’s cheeky little grin disappeared quickly as Lucanis pulled Rook into a gentle kiss that had her closing her eyes and leaning into it as much as she could without crushing the flowers between them. It was far from their first kiss but it still tasted just as sweet, like honey and lavender cream.

Rook broke the kiss with a sweet little giggle and brought her hand up to Lucanis’ chest and ran a finger down the soft fabric of his suit, “You’re looking sharp tonight.”

“And yet I still don’t look nearly as radiant as you, mi vida.” Lucanis said as he took Rook’s hand in his own and brought the back of it up to his lips for a gentle kiss. Rook could only let out another lovesick giggle.

In one smooth motion, Lucanis transferred the roses to hold in the crook of his elbow, hooked his other arm with Rook’ own, and pulled the door closed with his foot before rushing them both out to the car, “I think it’s time we got out of here.”

Rook followed along easily as Lucanis lead them back to the car but couldn’t help teasing Lucanis, “What’s the rush? Are you just that excited to get me all alone?”

“Of course, Rook. However it would also be best if we got out of here before my family decides to make an appearance.” Lucanis said as he opened the side passenger door.

“What? Afraid I’ll embarrass you in front of them?” Rook asked teasingly as she walked around the front of the car to get to the driver side.

“No.” Lucanis said vehemently as if the idea of ever being embarrassed by Rook was anathema. “I just don’t want them scaring you off.”

“Lucky for you then I don’t scare easily,” Rook said with a wide grin as she plopped down in the drivers seat and stuck the key back into ignition. Do not embarrass me now, Bianca, Rook thought as she willed the worn down car to start as she turned the key. Luckily Bianca had her back and started up on the first try.

“You have not met my grandmother, Rook. She’s a scary woman.” Lucanis said as he settled into his seat, still softly clutching the roses to his chest. He probably should have put them right in a vase but he wasn’t willing to risk the chance of his family showing up by taking the time to do that.

“But you have met me, and trust me, it would take a whole hell of a lot more then one scary old lady to make me leave your side.” Rook said as she took Lucanis’ hand and laced their fingers together. She met Lucanis eyes with a brilliantly bright grin and gave their hands a squeeze before detangling their fingers to put her hand on gear shift. “So, are you ready to hit the town?”

Lucanis just let out a joyous laugh and said, “Yes. I am just hoping this place has a good selection.”

“It’s a wine bar. I feel like it should have something to satisfy even a wine snob like yourself.” Rook said as she started driving back down the cobblestone driveway.

“I am not a snob. I simply have high standards.” Lucanis said with an imperious sniff, “However seeing as Emmrich recommenced the place I am willing to give it the benefit of doubt.”

Rook only laughed and the two of them set off into the night.

--------

Meanwhile, the third floor music room of the Villa Dellamorte was completely silent except for two quiet clinks as its two inhabitants set down their opera glasses at the same time and shared a Look between themselves. The entryway of the house might have blocked their view of the door but they still got a clear look at Lucanis’ mysterious sweetheart and the... atrocity she rode around in.

No words were exchanged as the two stewed in silence at the scene they had just witnessed. Finally Illario simply could not take the silence and exclaimed, “What was that? Did Lucanis really put on Armani to ride around in some clunker that should have found it’s home in a junk yard a decade ago?”

“And that outfit! Who needs that many bracelets? I could practically hear the jingling from up here! And what sort of freak walks around wearing that many skulls on them? Mierda!” Illario said as he jumped up out of his chair to pace around the room, muttering under his breath all the while at every fashion faux pas and crime Rook committed in the less then five minutes he was saw them for.

“Oh my poor boy, where did I go wrong?” Caterina asked softly as she put her hand to her forehead and bemoaned her grandson’s taste. She had introduced him to so many well mannered and well bred boys and girls over the years and he went and picked one right out of a Hot Topic dumpster. Caterina just thought that Lucanis had high standards but it turned out he just had bade taste.

“And the car! Did you see those bumper stickers? Who slaps on a sticker that says ‘I eat sand’ on their car? I think I saw about six coexist bumper stickers on that thing!” Illario said as he whipped back around to Caterina to keep complaining. If Illario ever cared to ask Rook about that, she’d be able to tell him the very long story Varric told her about how Bianca ended up with covered with so many coexist stickers that involved at least two trips to the hospital over the span of six months, but Rook had no excuse for the I EAT SAND one, that one was all Rook.

Caterina held up a hand to halt Illario’s ranting mid stream and said, “We must do something about this. Do you know if Viago’s cousin is still single?”

“The fuck up? I would have to ask.” Illario said, a bit confused as he was sure Caterina could not stand the kid.

“Do so. Anyone would be better than that one for Lucanis.” Caterina said with finality as she stood up to retire to her room with what would likely be an entire bottle of wine to help her cope with the night’s revelations.