#him?? receing such words???

[fangswbenefits]

Intimacy

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Lack of intimacy after childbirth can weigh a relationship down. Thankfully, Miguel always finds new ways to keep the spark alive.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Lactation kink. Fangs. Implied breeding kink. A comprehensive study on intimacy with Miguel O’Hara.

“She’s finally sound asleep.”

Holding back a yawn as you entered the living room, you were promptly met with a very heavy-eyed Miguel O’Hara on the couch, enjoying the comforts of home.

“Thank you,” he said truthfully, straightening up lightly in his seat. “Come here.”

You paced towards him, lazily settling on his lap, both legs framing his as two big and warm hands sprawled across your back, pulling you into an embrace.

Instinctively, your eyes fluttered shut once cheek came to rest on his shoulder, taking in his body warmth and enjoying the steady heartbeat that drummed against your chest.

You figured you might just fall asleep and don’t fight against it. Taking care of a baby had been taking a toll on you both as of late, but it was to be expected.

Still, you missed moments like this. No talking, just feeling right at home in a silent embrace.

Miguel planted a few kisses to the back of your neck, but they were void of any sexual bearing. You knew what he meant with those. Absolute gratitude and devotion.

“Next time, I’ll put her to sleep,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hmm.”

His hands glided along your back, fingertips applying just enough pressure to raise goosebumps across your skin.

“I mean it.”

“You’re also tired,” you drawled out with a yawn, body slumping fully into him. “Work and all that…”

Another tender kiss. “But I have responsibilities here, too.”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“You taught me how.”

Point taken.

Silent seconds ticked by and you shifted on his lap into a more comfortable position, ready to enter the valley of dreams.

“I miss you,” he said all of a sudden.

His hands settled on your arms to straighten you, a pair of red eyes encasing yours.

“I miss us.”

Miguel wasn’t a man to deliver empty words as filler, so you knew that he genuinely meant it, which had your heart to skip a beat.

His digital suit began to fragment and reced, exposing the skin underneath. Your placed your hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscles flex under your touch.

He was so handsome. Almost unfairly so.

“Let me kiss you,” he whispered.

You nodded, bringing your lips to meet his in a lazy kiss as you dragged your fingers along his hair, earning a moan of approval.

It was a slow and steady kiss. You were in no hurry and wanted to make the most of this rare opportunity.

One of his hands slid to grope your breast and you felt him groan against you lips, breaking contact.

His half-hooded eyes were now on your chest, and as you followed his line of sight, you realised what had caught his attention.

Your shirt was getting soaked with milk.

Damn.

Two round damp spots spread across the fabric that covered each nipple, and you felt instant embarrassment take over. “Sorry… wanted to pump before putting her to bed, but she—”

“Don’t ever apologise for this,” he silenced you at once.

You tried to slide off the couch to fix yourself, but he kept you in place with both hands gripping your waist, pushing you down on him.

“Stay.”

Oh?

“I’ll help.”

Oh.

“Miguel…”

Masterful fingers worked their way down the buttons of your nightgown to reveal your heaving breasts.

You knew that look on his face.

Hunger.

“So full,” he said more to himself, cupping both of them softly.

A few droplets coated both nipples and he brushed the pad of his thumbs along the sensitive skin, earning a jerk from you.

The tingling between your legs emerged in full force from just the sight of him staring at you like he could devour you whole.

He craned his neck just enough to capture one nipple with his lips before latching hungrily.

The overwhelming sensation was enough to have you clinging to his broad shoulders for support. You squeezed your eyes shut and gasped once you felt him sucking gently.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the growing pressure between your legs from his hardening cock.

“Be gentle,” you moaned, caressing his cheek that would rhythmically hollow as he downed your milk.

“Hmmm.”

Then your hand came to his neck and you gently gripped it, feeling his Adam’s apple bob with each gulp.

You stared adoringly at him, slowly grinding into his covered cock. A raw groan reverberated through his throat, and you could tear your eyes away from the sight of the warm liquid pooling in the corner of his mouth.

The latch was just perfect and felt too good.

You brought your hand to caress his face once more, brushing a few strands of his hair away.

“You’re so good…” you moaned.

His cock twitched at your praise, and you could feel the wetness damping his own underwear. Now he was the one leaking for you, his body full on auto-pilot as precum readied him for more.

A couple of droplets began to run down his chin, dripping and drenching his underwear.

“No fangs…”

You’d felt them grazing your skin lightly, but you couldn’t really blame Miguel. His fangs would emerge from either extreme anger or blinding pleasure. A roll from your hips with added pressure was enough to tear his lips from your nipple, head falling back and mouth parting with a raw moan.

He bared both sets of fangs as both hands gripped your waist. Your own mouth dropped open as haziness filled your vision, absolutely revelling in seeing your own milk dripping from his lips and down his muscular neck.

“Fuck,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut.

You hurried to collect some of the beads of milk from his skin, but Miguel intercepted you midway, capturing you into a searing kiss. His tongue hurriedly slipped past your lips and you tasted sweetness.

Parting yourself from him, you focused on the grind of your hips and Miguel snapped open his crimson eyes, lust dilating his pupils.

“I’m not… I’m not…” he mumbled incoherently, too lost in his pleasure. “I’m not… lasting…”

You leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I’m surprised you lasted this long,” you whispered seductively, pressing a quick kiss to the pulse point on his neck. “So much stamina…”

Miguel was a sucker for praise and it was the easiest and fasted way to get him to crumble.

Your clit rubbed against his covered cock in a steady rhythm as more droplets of milk kept dripping from your nipples. Your eyes roamed along his chest that was glistening as beads of white liquid streamed down.

Suddenly, Miguel pulled you into him, your breasts now squeezed in between you two, more liquid pouring out.

He titled your head and immediately latched his lips against your neck, fangs nearly puncturing the flushed skin.

“You ride me so good,” he murmured hungrily against you.

A moan tangled in your throat and your hips surged to encourage his, ruthlessly intensifying the pleasure. Miguel picked up the speed again and you felt each burst of bliss at every thrust and desperate to feel the next.

Your orgasm was upon you faster than you had expected, the sense of urgency in his thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Miguel… Miguel…” you moaned, your panties completely drenched.

“Inside… please…”

Desperate fingers clawed at your underwear, sliding it to the side as the tip of his cock nudged at your entrance. He slid inside effortlessly, bottoming up in an instant, and after a moment he gave a harsh cry and shoved himself so deeply and tightly against you that you gasped, clenching hard around him.

Miguel buried his face in the crook of your neck in a failed attempt to muffle his groans.

He kept grinding and rocking against you with stifled grunts, spurting hotly inside.

Only the sounds of your harsh breathing followed, and you sank against him weakly as if drained of all energy.

A familiar waile filled the room, making you wince.

“Shit… were we too loud?” you asked, trying to ease your breathing.

Miguel was still buried deep inside you, beads of sweat rolling down his face. “I’ll go check on her.”

You could tell he reluctantly slid out, easing you on your back. The sudden emptiness made you clench involuntarily, and you felt some of his warm cum spilling

“Keep it in,” he said, pressing your legs together as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

Masterlist

[k0juki]

Hiii!!

Could you please do a one-shot with jealous! Kimi? Maybe during an interview, he's already had enough and wants to leave, but after seeing a journalist or somebody else trying to flirt with his gf (they both agreed to keep their relationship private), he loses it and once he goes up to her after telling that guy to get lost, he physically relaxes and basically melts to her touch...forgetting that they were surrounded by cameras that had just recorded every second of the exchange.

I'd like to imagine how the other drivers and the fans in general would react to that :))

Thanxx <3

Yur!!!🧊 Sorry it took me too so long...school is pain.

His girl

Kimi Räikkönen x fem!reader

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!

More stuff here!

Words: 573

---

It wasn't strange to see Kimi annoyed. Most people that worked with him knew how he could get and this was no different. But what annoys him the most are only two things. 

Firstly, not winning the race and media being dick about it and secondly, when anyone flirts with his girl. Of course nobody knows that you are together, but still, it makes his Finnish blood boil.

And let's just say that today wasn't his best day at all. Not only he fucked up the rece, but as the interview progressed, Kimi patience wore thinner with each passing question. He'd had enough of the same inquiries, the same stupid questions and the same attempts to extract emotions from him that he preferred to keep hidden. Yet, he maintained his ice cool demeanor, answering tersely but efficiently. 

However, his face cracked when he caught a glimpse of someone leaning a bit too close to his girlfriend, Y/n, who was standing just a few feet away, watching the interview with a supportive smile that he loves. She is his safe place. When something happens, he knows that he can go to her. To make him feel loved. 

And when he heard the journalist's flirtatious tone and lingering gaze he held on her, made Kimi's blood boil beneath his calm exterior. In a rare moment of unfiltered emotion, Kimi abruptly ended the interview, muttering something about needing a break and with determined strides, he made his way over to Y/n, who looked surprised at his sudden approach. 

"Hey, is everything okay?" she asked, concern evident in her voice, but Kimi ignored her question and pulled her into his arms possessively, caging her in and casting a sharp glare at the journalist who had dared to encroach on his territory. His girl.

"Get lost" he growled, the words were laced with a dangerous edge and it almost sounded like a threat. Once the unwanted intruder had retreated, Kimi felt a wave of relief wash over him. His tense muscles gradually relaxed as he buried his face in Y/n's hair, inhaling her familiar scent that he loves so much. 

The anger started to melt away and was replaced by a sense of calm and contentment that only she could bring him. Unbeknownst to Kimi, their intimate moment had been captured by the surrounding cameras, broadcasting his uncharacteristic display of jealousy to the world. 

Among the other drivers, reactions varied. Some were surprised, having never seen this side of Kimi before, while others like Sebastian just gave a knowing look, he understood the depth of Kimi's feelings for Y/n. As for the fans, social media and everyone else erupted with speculation and commentary. 

"I think everyone knows that we are together now." You murmured against him. His strong arms still wrapped around you.

"Yeah, but at least they won't be flirting with you before my eyes."

---

In the days that followed, Kimi and Y/n found themselves surrounded by an outpouring of support and affection from fans, friends, and fellow drivers. Despite initially feeling exposed by the public display of their relationship, they soon realized that it had only brought them closer together. 

As they retreated to the quiet sanctuary of their home, Kimi and Y/n reveled in the simple joys of each other's company. They shared laughter, tender moments and whispered words of love that were meant for each other's ears alone. 

---

Requests are open!

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[maplegracefour]

Two Idiots and a Wedding | Part One

Summary: When the invitation for your cousin’s wedding arrives, and you see that bold ‘+1’ you sigh, remembering the white lie you had told her about seeing someone. You realise that you’re not getting out of it and that you’re going to have to figure something out…

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~845 Words

Author's Note: Here it is! There's more to come and I know it's short, I've just been super busy with work and some family things. But rest assured more is on the way!!

“No, absolutely fucking not.” He says, staring you down as though you had grown a second head.

You sigh. “Please. I’m begging you, Ted already said no!” You look over at him, his brow is furrowed and he’s leaning forward, hands clasped together as he stares right back at him.

He raises an eyebrow at that though. “You asked Ted first?”

Head cocked to the side, you give him a confused expression in response.

A moment of silence weighs heavily between you. You aren’t quite sure if he’s offended that you asked Ted before him. Your eyes plead with him silently, fingers crossed on top of your lap.

“I’ll pay for everything?” You offer. A desperate last offer. “Flights, accommodation, drinks, food. Literally everything.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning back into the couch, a loud sigh escaping his lips. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Why did you tell them you had a boyfriend when you didn’t?” He asks you at the airport and you have to try and not let your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“I just didn’t know what to say when they asked me about a plus one. I panicked.” You explain.

“Right.” He says, not fully convinced. “So, because you were put on the spot, you lied?”

When he glances over at you, you’re looking extremely unimpressed. “I never claimed it was a good idea.”

He chuckles, slipping his headphones back on and shaking his head.

On the flight, you give him a full rundown on the family, and the friends. Essentially anyone who he should already know. You work on a game plan. The closer you get to your destination, the more nervous you become.

“Anything off limits?” You ask. “Any boundaries?”

“Boundaries?” He raises an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean?”

“I mean, like no kissing, no hand-holding. Any names or anything like that?” You explain yourself.

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.“ He shrugs. “Maybe kissing would make things a little weird.” He says. 

You nod, understanding fully. “Kissing is off the table.”

The flight is smooth, thank goodness. And you land safely in the airport. As you make your way to the car hire centre, you notice Schlatt making an extra effort to walk closer to you than usual, your arms brushing often, occasionally even feeling his knuckles gently tap yours as you walk side by side. You choose not to think anything of it.

Once in the car, you make your way to the hotel. Schlatt drives, letting you sit in your nerves in the passenger seat, unsure if it’s making it easier or worse.

Your knee bounces involuntarily, eyes trailing across the constantly moving landscape in an attempt to distract yourself. For a while, you don’t notice Schlatt’s hand resting on your knee, the bouncing immediately coming to a halt.

You turn to look at him, eyebrows furrowing. His other hand is draped lazily on the wheel as he glances back at you for a moment. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous, they’re your family.” He says after a few moments of heavy silence.

“My family that I’m about to lie to constantly for 3 days straight. And I’m a terrible liar.” You note.

“Eh,” he shrugs, like it’s nothing. “People have lied about worse. And it’s okay, I’m a pretty good liar, so we balance each other out.” He gives your knee a squeeze and you pretend not to notice.

Pulling up to the hotel, you notice how grand it is. You’re glad, because it had cost a lot of fucking money.

You both walk into the hotel lobby, Schlatt takes all the bags because ‘that’s the boyfriend’s job’. You roll your eyes in response.

“I’m so sorry, there has been a mix-up with our bookings.” The receptionist says when you reach the desk to book in. Frowning, Schlatt looks at you.

“So, what does that mean?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing.

“The system double booked all of our twin rooms, we have executive rooms available which we can offer to you for no extra price.” She offers, sheepishly smiling up at you. She looks like she’s had a long day, you can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

You sigh softly, brushing your hair from your face. “An executive room will be fine.” You nod, giving her a sympathetic smile.

You check into your new room, taking the keys and silently, Schlatt and yourself make your way up. You hadn’t heard of an executive room but it sounds fancy.

But as you step into the room, you realise why Schlatt has been so quiet. The room, despite being absolutely gorgeous, only has one bed.

He turns to you, putting the bags down as the door clicks closed. “So, how do you want to do this?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

PART TWO HERE

[wolfstargazer]

20th October - Spirit - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 260

The spirit was willing. But the body just wouldn't obey.

Remus lay, stared up at the ceiling, and tried to put the pieces of the night before back together in his mind.

Peter slips, losing his footing, and James laughs as he reaches out to catch his hand and pull him back to firmer ground.

Laughter from behind him. Grey eyes carefree as he lifts his head back and gives a sharp bark. The moon is a silver sickle in the sky.

"If we survive this, Padfoot, remind me to kill you in the morning!" James calls, his words snatched away by the wind.

"If we survive this, Prongs, it will go down in history as Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs' most daring adventure!" Sirius calls back.

"Not if we're not alive to tell it," Remus quips.

Sirius turns, eyes flashing, reaches out to grab Remus by the robes, and hauls him forwards onto the ledge of the tower.

Remus teeters precariously, feels the exhilarating rush of his potential plummet to the rocks below. Sirius places a steadying hand on Remus' shoulder, leans close, and whispers, "If this isn't living, what is?"

Remus lay and stared up at the ceiling, puzzling the pieces of his dream back together. But try as he may the fragments receed into the dawn, chased by the daylight that crept into the room, and the letter from Dumbledore still open on the bed beside him:

It would be my great honour to offer you the position of teacher, if you'd be minded to accept?

[dewracle]

Vessel's ABC's

PAIRING - Vessel x reader, Vessel x polyves (Briefly mentioned)

WARNING - NSFW! Mentions of breeding kink, sexual piercings, cum play, overstimulation

AUTHOR'S NOTE - Hello my lovies! I've been sitting on this for a while now, I thought it would be best to slowly start doing headcanons and blurbs to work myself back into writing. I hope yall enjoy!

WORD COUNT - 1,177

Master List

❥ A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

➛ As soon as the both of you cum, he’s kissing your face softly praising you for how good you did for him.  ➛ Always gets up and gets you some of your favorite snackies and drinks, will gently rub your back while you eat. 

❥ B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

➛ His? He loves his stomach, cannot tell me otherwise. Why else would he always have it on display? ➛ Yours? Your eyes, he loves to stare into them as he’s gently rubbing your sides pulling you closer. 

❥ C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

➛ Haha he paints you pretty with his cum, purposely pulling out just to cum on either your hole or face.  ➛ Pretty boy also will crave your cum, please give it to him or he’ll beg

❥ D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

➛ Creepy and dirty? Yes please.  ➛ Has stalked his partners, still means he has seen you masturbate, watching the way you pleasure yourself. Yeah so when yall do fuck, he knows how to please you. 

❥ E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

➛ Fairly experienced. He has had multiple partners in the past, and considering he has multiple now, I’d say he knows what’s going on. 

❥ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

➛Our boy is a romantic man, he’ll take you from behind in a spooning position. He’ll wrap his hand around your throat while pulling you back, kissing you while hooking one of your legs over his hips. Yeah...

❥ G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

➛ Pretty serious in the moment. He can sometimes crack a joke when he can tell you’re struggling. 

❥ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

➛ Very neatly trimmed. He loves his happy trail and thinks it’s enjoyable when you run your hands down it to grab his cock

❥ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

➛ It’s intense but it varies on the scene y’all have set.  ➛ Can be very romantic and loving when yall are making love. Sweet kisses and gentle touches  ➛ But he can also fuck you till you’re crying and begging for him to stop. 

❥ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

➛ Sweet boy barely gets time to Jack off and empty his balls. He’s always so stressed out with the band and then having to deal with Sleep.  ➛ But when he does it's because he away from you, he’s touching himself slowly, dipping his hand into his pants, biting his lip to stop the breathy moan...

❥ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

➛ I’ll give you the top kinks... ➛Ownership. He loves to feel like he owns someone like they need him.  ➛ Breeding kink. Gods the man just wants to put a baby in you even if you can’t carry it.  ➛ Dare I say.. daddy kink? Just the reaction to you calling him daddy.. think about it. 

❥ L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

➛ Woods. Yup, he loves the woods the most. Loves taking you near where all the offers are given. Offering YOU up like the finest treat to Sleep...

❥ M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

➛ Gotta say his biggest turn-on might be your support. He feels safe and loved with you around.. it just makes his cock unbelievably hard for you.  ➛ Bonus: if you are into it, seeing you wear a collar with his name on it. 

❥ N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

➛ Public sex. I don’t see him being the type to take you in front of people yall don’t know. He likes to keep that separate and away from the fans 

❥ O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

➛ REALLY likes receiving it, I mean openingly moaning, pulling you closer by the back of your neck, face fucking you. Loves it so fucking much.  ➛ Will give it but always takes more than what you offer. Pushing you into overstimulation as his mouth just works over you…like I said, he really likes your cum

❥ P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

➛ It can vary but most of the time even when it’s a rough dirty fuck in the back of the bus, he likes to go slow… Takes his time to feel you wrapped around him while he drags moan after moan out of you. 

❥ Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

➛ “Quickie” you say… he doesn’t do fast fucks. Yes, he’ll take you when he needs you but he likes to savor your taste and your pleasure. 

❥ R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

➛ He doesn’t like to risk his identity being shown, so nothing like public stuff.  ➛ Will try new things as long as it’s discussed beforehand. Safety matters in his eyes. 

❥ S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

➛ Forgive me god for I have sinned.  ➛ You CANNOT tell me he doesn’t last for hours!! Of course, he’ll cum but he’ll get right back at it!!  ➛ Have you seen the way he’s always on stage singing? And he goes to the gym? He knows he can fuck for a while so buckle in. 

❥ T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

➛ Owns a Fleshlight and a cock ring. Sometimes he likes to use them on the other vessels soo... ➛ Will be open to using any toys you bring into the bedroom, might forget about them if I’m honest. 

❥ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

➛ Constantly. Fucking constantly teasing. He will have you wet/hard the whole fucking day and then IGNORE you when you beg for him to fuck you.  ➛ He knows you like it when he doesn’t wear a shirt, purposely taking it off in front of you and pushing his pants down just low enough that there’s a happy trail...

❥ V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

➛ If he’s in control he’s kinda quiet, just groaning and sometimes moaning.  ➛ Does whisper in your ear from time to time, “Fuck darling.. you're sucking my cock in so well.. need that don’t you”

❥ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

➛ Love me or hate me.. he has a prince Albert.. thank you. 

❥ X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

➛ Some piercings here and there (cough on his dick)  ➛ Does have some scars from sacrificing blood to Sleep.. and from you. 

❥ Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

➛ He wants you every day of every hour. Reasonable he knows he can’t have you all the time but he’ll try his damnest to. 

❥ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

➛ My version of the vessels don’t really sleep.. but if he does fall asleep good luck waking him up. Will sleep for 3 days at a time. 

Master List

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 12: "Considering the Offer"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: Another painful installment that is about to bring us to what I consider to be the worst angst of this whole series next. This one certainly hurts, though. Feedback is always appreciated--and so are theories about what happens next even if my lips are sealed!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks

“Look at us!” Foggy exclaimed, raising his beer bottle high up in the air, clearly still wound up from the win in court earlier today as his eyes scanned over everyone around the table. “All of us together again tonight! How often does that happen?”

“Well, not all of us,” Karen pointed out, nudging you beside her with her elbow. “We are missing Adam tonight.”

Foggy held up a hand, shooting you an apologetic smile as he shook his head. Internally you cringed, your heart aching at the mention of Adam, but you bit your tongue and kept your mouth shut. You weren’t about to correct anyone, not tonight. Especially when you weren’t prepared to come up with a partial truth as to why he actually wasn't here, because you needed some reason that would make it past Matt’s human lie detector abilities that you always kept in mind if you were to tell them the truth. And currently you weren’t in the mood to think of one.

“You’re right, Karen, I’m sorry. We aren’t all fully together tonight,” Foggy amended. “We are, unfortunately, one person short this evening.”

“Though you did manage to wrangle me back to Josie’s,” Marci said, her arm still wrapped around Foggy’s waist. “And how you managed that again remains a mystery.”

Marci’s eyes dropped down to her glass, openly studying it with distaste. She’d often made it clear she wasn’t a fan of coming out to Josie’s, preferring that you would all someday make your ritual hangout place at a nicer bar.

“At least this time I wasn’t the one who was unavailable,” Erica said, her slender arm casually draped over Matt’s shoulder. 

Inevitably her voice drew your gaze all the way across the table. Her attention was focused on Matt, a smile crossing her pretty face. A sharp pang of jealousy struck you like a white hot fire in your veins when you saw Matt turn his focus on the beautiful dark blonde sitting beside him, a large smile forming on his own lips underneath his glasses as he leaned in towards her.

“You’re right, for once I got you out of the office and all to myself,” he playfully teased. “Which certainly doesn’t happen often enough.”

He leaned in to place a lingering kiss on her cheek and your eyes quickly dropped down to your beer before you, your fingers running along the condensation of the bottle. You did your best to try to ignore the sound of Erica’s giggle and the feel of your erratically beating heart at what was happening across the table. Pressing your lips firmly together, you fought hard to keep them from visibly trembling. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Karen was looking at you, but you tried your best to ignore that, too. 

It had been a little over four months now since you’d learned Matt wasn’t dead, having found out when you’d seen him sitting and having a drink with your friends at Father Lantom’s wake. It was only a couple of months after that when Marci–who’d begun dating Foggy recently–had introduced Matt to one of the lawyers at her firm. Erica Kaminski. And he’d quickly grown fond of her real fast.

You'd met her a few weeks after you'd heard Matt first talking about her. She was apparently an impressive defense attorney herself, one who was incredibly busy and very focused and passionate about her work. She was sweet, too. Nice. Which made it absolutely impossible to hate her despite how beautiful, confident, charismatic, and successful she was. She was practically Matt's perfect match, even if she wasn't necessarily as crazy about taking on pro bono cases like he was. 

They looked perfect together, too, with his dark hair, handsome face, and the strong build not very well hidden underneath his suits next to her lithe and leggy form and her model-like face and perfect hair. They looked like some sort of power couple and it physically pained you to see them together whenever you did. Especially whenever you saw Matt leaning over to give her sweet kisses to the cheek or the forehead���even worse when you had to witness a passionate kiss on the lips. Every single time it always felt like your heart was further withering inside of your chest, gradually shriveling up into a goddamn raisin. 

She didn’t know about Matt’s alter ego, though. Nor did she know about his heightened senses. And Matt had made it very clear that none of you were to say anything about it to her. You’d understood why at first, but as the weeks wore on and Matt seemed further smitten with this woman, you’d started to wonder how things were going to continue on if he didn’t tell her the truth. How could he have a relationship with someone if they didn’t really know who he was? How could he know she really wanted to be with him– all of him–if she didn’t know there was more that he wasn’t telling her? You’d kept your mouth shut about it, but you’d always bitterly thought he was making the wrong decision by planning to keep her in the dark. Not that you felt she needed to know everything after only two and a half months, but with the way these two seemed to be going–at least with how Matt talked about her–you had a feeling she’d be reaching a point where she deserved to know the truth. And Matt deserved to be with someone who loved that other side of him, too. 

Though admittedly, you felt like Matt was far more into Erica than she was into him. Not necessarily in a bad way on her part, but you often got the she’s-very-married-to-her-career sort of vibe from her. She was often unavailable to make plans with Matt, usually too focused on something with work. Sometimes work would even call her away when she’d been out–even if she was on a date with Matt. Whereas Matt had latched onto Erica like he’d had back at Columbia when he’d met Elektra. It almost seemed like some level of an unhealthy co-dependency he’d formed with her that you couldn’t quite make sense of, though of course you would never ask him about it. You figured it had something to do with whatever had happened to him after Midland, but he always seemed so happy with her that you’d tried to ignore it.

But as you spotted them kissing across the table out of your peripheral, you felt like you were about to be sick. As if she noticed exactly what was going on, Karen leaned over towards you.

“Want to grab another drink with me?” she asked.

You nodded, lips still firmly pressed together as you instantly pushed your chair back. Sliding off of it, you maneuvered around Foggy and Marci before making a straight line for the bar counter, your eyes locked on Josie pouring out a beer behind it.

“Something’s going on with you,” Karen pointed out as she fell in step beside you. “It’s written all over your face.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered.

Karen snorted, shaking her head. “Okay, I may not be Matt, but even I know that’s a lie,” she shot back.

You sighed as the pair of you reached the counter, leaning forward to rest your elbows up onto it. Turning, you glanced at Karen’s inquisitive and concerned face beside you. One of her brows rose onto her forehead in a silent question. Your eyes slowly slid back to the table your friends were at, a frown slipping onto your face as you spotted Foggy and Matt both focused on their girlfriends. Really, though, the nauseous feeling in your stomach was due to the intense focus Matt had on Erica and the hand he had on her knee as he was talking to her. Biting your tongue, your focus returned to Karen.

“Are we still grabbing brunch tomorrow?” you asked her.

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, I was planning on it,” she answered. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you everything then,” you told her, your focus shifting on Josie as she made her way towards the pair of you. “When it’s just us.”

The waitress placed the plate of eggs benedict in front of you and you thanked her softly as she did. The food looked good–as it always did here–but admittedly your stomach was churning a little at the conversation you knew you were about to continue. Eyes glancing back up, you saw Karen across the booth from you still staring at you unblinkingly, her mind clearly still on the conversation that had been interrupted just now. When the waitress placed Karen’s food in front of her, Karen muttered a ‘thank you’ quickly, but her gaze never left you.

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?” the chipper waitress asked, her focus darting between you and Karen.

“I think we’re good,” you answered, shooting her a tense smile. “Thank you.”

She nodded before turning and heading off to a nearby table. Karen immediately leaned forward across the table towards you, her blue eyes intense as she ignored the steaming plate now between where her elbows rested on the table.

“Okay, let’s back up and go back to where we were,” she said. “You were offered a new position?”

“Yeah,” you said, picking up your mimosa. You felt like one was not going to be enough for this conversation. “My boss has loved my initiative ever since…well, you know.”

Karen’s face fell immediately, a frown pulling at her lips. “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, her eyes softening from the piercing stare she’d had for the past few minutes. “I really am, we shouldn’t have–”

You waved a hand, cutting her off as you clutched your mimosa tighter in the other. “Hey, it’s over, right? What’s done is done. None of you can take it back and you and Foggy have apologized like a thousand times already. And Matt probably ten times as much,” you muttered, drawing the glass to your mouth for a drink. Swallowing the cold liquid down, you added, “It is what it is at this point. I know why you all did it, but that doesn’t make it hurt less when I think about it.”

Across the table, Karen sat back in the booth. A look of guilt had taken residence on her face and you felt bad, but you weren’t about to console her for what had happened. Because admittedly that image of the three of them in Nelson’s jovially chatting when you walked in still plagued your mind some nights. As did the image of Matt and Erica kissing.

“But yes, my company has been doing well this past year and they’ve been focused on expanding,” you continued, bringing the conversation back around. “My boss has been loving my dedication to my work and the things I’ve been producing for the company, so he wanted to offer me the new position opening up first.”

“What’s it include?” she asked carefully.

“A massive pay increase,” you told her. “Like...almost double my salary now.”

Karen’s eyes grew wide across the table, her jaw dropping. “Are you fucking serious?” she breathed out. “You already make a good living–and they would almost double that?”

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Karen’s eyes immediately caught the movement and they instantly narrowed at you.

“What else does it include?” she asked.

“Well, like I said,” you continued a little nervously, “my company is expanding. Outside of New York City.”

You saw the moment realization dawned and her face fell across from you, her shoulders dropping at the information. “How far outside of New York City?” she asked.

Biting your lip, your focus dropped down to your plate of untouched food. Nervously your fingers fidgeted with the fork on the table. Karen was the first of your friend group you were telling all of this to.

“Los Angeles,” you told her.

You winced at the sharp intake of breath across the table, your eyes slowly making their way back up to her face. One of her hands had flown up, covering up half the look of shock now present there. Your stomach felt like it dropped to the floor, your appetite quickly leaving you. 

“So you’re leaving?” she whispered.

You shrugged a shoulder lightly in response. “I mean, I haven’t accepted anything,” you replied. “They offered me the position two weeks ago. They aren’t exactly in a rush right now for an answer because they’re still getting the new office together out there. But they really want me for this position. I’m pretty sure my boss is prepared to beg.”

“That’s–that’s incredible,” Karen said, a sad smile on her face as her hand fell back to her lap. “Really, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“So–so what’re you thinking, then?” she asked. “I imagine you’ve been thinking about it for a bit now.”

“I–I’m considering it,” you confessed, heart hammering in your chest as you did. “Really considering it, actually. That’s a lot of money. I’ve never been that far west, either.”

“What about Adam?” Karen immediately asked. “What’s he say about all of this?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat back in the booth now, entirely ignoring your plate of food. Exhaling roughly, you prepared to drop another bomb on Karen.

“We broke up,” you told her.

“ What ?” she asked in disbelief. “Why? When? You two were doing amazing, what happened?”

Your eyes dropped down to your lap. Nervously you were wringing your hands together, your chest feeling tight.

“Almost two weeks ago,” you answered. “Shortly after I got the offer. I was thinking about it for a few days, mulling it over, you know? And I knew I needed to tell him about it because it’s not like I could just make a big decision like that on my own. But he–he really didn’t want to leave New York. His family is here and he loves where he works.” You paused, your eyes still unable to meet Karen’s. “He asked me to stay here with him. Wanted me to move in. Talked about…wanting more with me.”

Karen once again sucked in an audible breath across the table. Your fingers only fidgeted faster in your lap at the sound.

“He wanted to marry you?” Karen asked.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. The far too familiar sting of tears were in your eyes again and you fought to blink them back.

“I liked Adam a lot,” you admitted, your focus finally returning to Karen. “I really did. He’s an amazing man, really. And I–I tried to love him.” You sniffled, trying to fight down the emotion you felt rising inside of you. “I really, really tried with him. For a long time in the beginning when I was with him, I didn’t think about Matt. And it was nice. But then Matt he–he met Erica a couple of months ago and hearing him talk about her, seeing them together–”

You broke off, your eyes closing as a few tears fell down your cheeks. Shaking your head, you tried to continue.

“It made me realize I still love Matt,” you admitted. “After all of this time, no matter what I do or what he does, I can’t seem to stop loving him. And I’d been feeling that for a couple of months now but I just–just kept trying to push it down. But when I was offered this position and I needed to talk to Adam and he wanted those things with me…I realized it wasn’t him. He’s not the one I wanted those things with.”

Karen said your name softly, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“And then I–I remembered what you said,” you continued, a few more tears running down your cheeks as you spoke. “Last year. About moving away and I–” the words felt like they were getting stuck in your throat as you tried to force them out, “–I think you were onto something. Because I can’t live like this, Karen.”

A few tears fell down her own cheeks as she listened to you, one of her hands darting up to wipe them away. Shaking your head roughly, you continued on.

“I can’t stay here being in love with someone who will never love me back,” you told her. “I can’t continue to watch him with Erica anymore. Every time they kiss I feel like my heart is being torn to shreds. I just can’t do it anymore. And seeing him with her made me realize that if–if he were to propose to someone, I think it would kill me. So I…think I need to leave before that happens.”

Across the table, Karen inhaled a shaky breath. A few more tears slipped out of her eyes and you watched as she tried to blink them back, her focus shifting to the window beside the two of you.

“It sounds like you’re already decided then,” Karen said softly.

Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “I think so,” you admitted. “My heart is begging me not to go, I can feel it, but my head is telling me to get out. It’s been years of this pining and it’s–it’s keeping me from really being happy, you know? It’s not right to be this in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way. And this incredible opportunity just fell into my lap and I–I think I should take it.”

“Does Foggy know?” she asked, her attention returning to you. “Judging by how happy he was last night, I’m guessing he doesn’t.”

You shook your head slowly. “No,” you told her. “So far I’ve only told you. I knew you’d be upset but…I know Foggy is going to have a hard time with this.”

Karen huffed out a humorless laugh, nodding as she wiped away a few tears on her cheeks. “Yeah, he’s definitely not going to handle this news too well,” she agreed. 

“I might not tell him quite yet,” you admitted with a wince. “So if you could just keep this between us for now, I’d appreciate it.”

Instantly her eyes narrowed back at you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat under her piercing gaze.

“I plan to tell him when I’ve gotten things more finalized,” you assured her. “You know, once I’ve accepted the offer officially and am actually looking at apartments out there. There’s no need to upset Foggy too soon in case something falls through. I just…don’t want to say something unless I know it’s for sure happening. But I needed to talk to someone about it.”

Karen’s expression softened as she offered you another sad smile, nodding as she did. “I understand,” she said. “So I’m guessing you’re going to tell Matt at the same time as Foggy then?” she asked.

Heart twisting in your chest at her question, you felt that all too familiar hollow ache gnawing at you. You honestly didn’t know how you were going to tell Matt this news, let alone actually say goodbye to him. It wasn’t something you wanted to think about because it hurt too much.

“Probably not at the same time, no,” you whispered, eyes dropping down to your still untouched plate of food. “He's been so happy lately with Erica. Happier than I've seen him in awhile. I don’t want to ruin that for him. And I don’t–don’t know how I’m going to tell him, either. He deserves to know at some point but I–I don’t even know how I’ll have the strength to tell him I’m leaving. To actually say goodbye to him.”

The tears were welling up again in your eyes and you fought hard to blink them back down. The thought of permanently saying goodbye to Matt felt like a small death in itself. Like you’d be leaving your heart in New York and dragging a shell of yourself across the country to L.A. 

But what other choice did you have? Did you really want to stay here and watch him fall in love with Erica? And if it wasn’t her, surely it would be someone else. Could you really just sit there and watch it happen? Watch him tell some other woman that wasn’t you that he loved her? Hear that he’d gotten engaged? Attend his goddamn wedding and be forced to watch him join his life to someone else's forever in front of your very eyes? 

You knew the answer was no. You could never do that. What you’d said to Karen was the truth–watching Matt marry someone else would absolutely kill you. With how long you’d spent wanting him– loving him–there was no way you could watch him make a life with someone else. No way that you could pretend he was only your best friend. 

Leaving New York was the only option left that you hadn’t tried yet.

“I’ll tell him eventually,” you promised, both to Karen and yourself, “but not yet. I–I can’t talk to Matt about this just yet.”

[END NOTES]

I'm sharing end notes again on this series because I feel like y'all need it. Especially because I literally wrote this one up really fast today and hope everything came across!

So Matt is dating Erica and seems quite into her. And Reader has once again ended things with Adam despite how good things were going with him because she's still in love with Matt. All it took was her seeing him so crazy about someone else for her to realize she still has feelings for him. But that little seed of thought Karen planted awhile back never truly went away and now Reader is being offered an amazing new position in L.A. in the coming months that she's planning to accept. Which means bye bye Hell's Kitchen, hello California. And in turn, bye bye Matty.

So what happens next? Because Matt is about to learn VERY soon who Reader has really been in love with...but will she stay or will she go?

The next installment is titled "Breaking the News" and I do have a title for the one following, but I think I'll hold onto that until y'all get the next installment. Because I want to keep you guessing where this is going. I'm cruel like that 🙃

[cafeinthemoon]

It's a Fire - Chapter I

Chapter 1

Wordcount 3,5k

Title Retired Hashira

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: arranged marriage; age gap; mentions of increasing in criminality and poverty; grieving; non diagnosed depression (the condition wasn't properly understood by the time this story is settled)

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N.A.: So Kimetsu no Yaiba returned and I'm taking the opportunity to finally start posting this story that has been in my list of ideas for several months!

A while ago I made a poll where I included the option of writing a fic with the Rengoku family, and it was this one I was talking about. I know there are other stories I need to work on already, but let me tell you that this very fic just saved me from a creative block, which was caused by what I suspect to be the beginning of a burnout (I'm about to go on vacation and I just can't take it anymore, but I don't want to discuss this rn).

A few words about the ff itself: It's a slow burn, arranged marriage story between reader, who's 27/28 yo, which makes her closer to myself who's a bit older than this, and Shinjuro Rengoku, who's struggling with the same problems we see in canon, but somehow accepts her as his wife: she was the daughter of old acquaintances of his, so the marital contract is sealed to allegedly honor the friendship between the families. However, things are way more complicated in reality.

Of course, because of the things we see in the original media, such as violence, alcoholism and etc., I need to make it clear that my personal opinions on these subjects may diverge from what I'm putting in this story (due to personal family experiences), and each chapter will carry the necessary warnings. Also if you notice similarities with Beauty and the Beast, know that it isn't just a coincidence haha Finally, the title is a song by Portishead, which didn't influence my writing but its lyrics somehow fit this plot 🌹

I hope you have a good time reading this ❤

“You walk a lonely road 

Oh, how far you are from home” 

(Enya, May it Be) 

That fate didn’t care about your preferences and desires, you knew well. 

You wished you had your mother with you for long years, and that your relationship grew stronger as you spent your time together, dedicating yourselves to the art of the sword, but most of her time and energy were directed to her work as a member of the Demon Slayer Corps, and it was like this until the day you received a messenger from Ubuyashiki-sama to inform you about her death: she didn’t fall to the Oni, but couldn’t resist the injuries from a battle against a group of them. 

You also wished your father, after losing the woman he claimed to love, stood up to his remaining family, that is, himself and you, and took reasonable measures to protect his territory and the people who lived in it, but he preferred to lock himself in his office and ignore the demands outside it, firing half of the house’s servants for the sake of saving money and willing to leave the property to the dust and the insects, not seeing this happening thanks to you, who took the task of maintaining everything by yourself, even doing some of the physical work. 

There were, in fact, many other things you wished for, but didn’t have the chance to see them coming true. One of those other things were continuing to live in the house you grew up in, and using your education to dedicate your life to a career of your choice, though your options seemed limited by your sex. But even this was taken from you when, on an ordinary day, you saw your father leaving his office in the company of a man you’ve never seen in your life. You wanted to question him about this strange visit, but you didn’t have to: your father came to your chambers later, and without measuring his tone or giving you time to process such news, explained the meeting’s main subject. 

– I’ve recently contacted an old acquaintance of mine, someone who was also known by your mother – he started – And explained our situation here. 

You knew what he was talking about: after your mother passed away, your lands’ protection has been neglected, and appearances of demons have been reported more often by your servants and the people who live in the villages near. No one dared leaving their houses at night, and the local economy were deeply affected by this, since part of the basic work used to be done in this period of the day; this led to an increase in poverty and criminality. You, on your part, weren’t immune to these difficulties despite growing up in a privileged family. 

Your father addressing this situation to you, however, was something new, and you exposed this impression to him. 

– Things are getting harder for everyone here, that’s true – you agreed – But why are you discussing this with me now? 

– Because I asked this acquaintance for help, and he answered me – he took slow steps toward your window, half opened by that time; he closed it with firm hands, but without making much noise – The thing is that, at the same time our lands are now dangerous to people, specially to young women like you, it’s time for you to take the next big step in your personal life, daughter. After all, you’re almost twenty-eight. 

You frowned. 

Next big step? What is he talking about?… 

Your father might have noticed your confusion, because he soon clarified his words… and you wished he never did it. 

– I’m talking about marriage, y/n – he spat – You declined the last two proposals, and I respect your reasons for that, but this time the circumstances aren’t in our favor. This man who visited me earlier is a messenger from the Rengoku House, and he brought me a positive answer from their head: I offered your hand and a good dowry in exchange for your protection, and in respect to your mother, who worked for the same cause as him, Shinjuro Rengoku accepted you as his wife. You’re leaving the house this week. 

You were speechless. You tried to stand up and show a sign of protest, but your legs didn’t obey you; you opened your mouth to say something, but no word left it. You knew your father have been struggling, but you could never suppose he was becoming insane – arranging a marriage for you without your consent? Other men used to do this to their daughters, but the man who married your mother would never… But, apparently, he was no longer this man. 

Maybe he was expecting some disagreement, but seeing your silence made him frown. 

– Don’t you have anything to say about this? 

You finally seemed to wake up. You gave him a dead glare, murmuring your response. 

– And what do you expect a woman to say after being sold and sent away from her own house out of nowhere? – you moved your head to the side, irony leaking from the gesture – Thank you? 

Your father clenched his jaw. 

– I certainly don’t expect your gratitude – his voice was lower now – I know this isn’t the future you wanted for yourself, and I didn’t want things to be like this either, but… 

– Why marriage, father? – your tongue was released, interrupting his thread of thoughts like a storm – I could stay temporarily with them, work for them, anything! But marrying someone I’ve never met?! Don’t you remember that I’ve declined the other proposals after at least seeing the faces of those men? 

– You’ll meet him on the wedding day, and you’ll have all the time of the world to know anything there is to know about him – his tone was louder again, as his patience was running low – Besides, Shinjuro is an old friend of mine. I give you my word that he’s a decent man, besides being a formidable warrior. He was married to a respectable woman once, and built a good family with her. I trust him, and so did your mother. No problems should be expected from his part, so the same must be expected from you. 

Shinjuro. It was only the second time you’ve heard that name from your father’s mouth, and you didn’t know what to think. In fact, you’ve learned from your mother that among the Demon Slayer Corps there was an elite group known as the Hashira, and one of them was Shinjuro, the Hashira of the Flames. He was the current head of the Rengoku family, but personal struggles – including the death of his wife – forced him to a retirement despite his capacity as a warrior, so that his eldest son, Kyojuro, took his place. However, you also heard that this young man was dead, so it was impossible to tell how things were going for his family members now. And that was the environment your father was willing to throw you into, even spending money in the process. 

You sighed. 

– Father, when was the last time you’ve met this man? I don’t remember you talking about him – you crossed your arms – I’m only familiar with his name thanks to mother, but now you’re telling me that he’s an old friend of yours. How old is he, exactly? 

– Not as old as me, of course – his reply came with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation – I can’t believe that, of all the things involved in this arrangement, this is what concerns you more! 

You scoffed. 

– I’m not that futile, but if he’s old enough to have a son capable of replacing him in the battlefield, I think I have the right to be concerned! – you took a step toward him – If I have no choice, I want to know exactly where I’m getting into. Can’t you even make such a small concession to me, father? 

No, he couldn’t, and you soon realized that. 

Your father decided the conversation was over. He returned to the room’s door and opened it. 

– It is decided, already – and, with a sort of sadness in his eyes – I’m doing what I think it’s best for my daughter. I only wanted her to trust me, at least for once. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

– I wanted this too, father. But you’re making it too difficult for your daughter. 

He stared at you for a moment, then left without any word. 

*** 

Things really happened the way you feared, in the path your father stated they would follow. He said that, but until the end he kept acting like he had no control over the flow of events, in a frail attempt to soothe his own conscience that only served to unnerve you, and not even seeing the disappointment in his daughter’s eyes each time he looked at you was enough for him to leave this pretense aside. Had he no shame anymore? 

During that fateful week, you avoided his company, leaving the burden of communication to the remaining servants and only speaking to him when utterly necessary. What was left for you to talk about when, as he said, everything was decided, and when you had nothing but sadness for him — for him, the adversities he’s been through and for the way he chose to behave in face of them? It was useless to argue on this, and whether you liked it or not, you had little time to put everything in order and couldn’t have the luxury of wasting it: would it be worthy to cause a delay in the arrangements under the risk of leaving a bad impression in your future spouse, even when he was someone you’ve never saw before? 

You sighed at the thought. 

And, as if I hadn’t enough things to worry about, I still have to consider this. 

In fact, you didn’t want to take much stuff from that house with you at the same time you didn’t want to cause any difficulties to the servants, who have already seen their load increase the last months, so you were quick to select essential items and packing them with the help of a maid, from your clothes to the gifts brought by your mother, and instruct her about what to do with the other things: some of them you gave to her, knowing that she had a daughter who was younger than you and who’d appreciate your charity, and the others, such as the furniture, should be sent to the villagers, for you wanted your things to be with people who would make good use of them instead of letting them rot in a place to where you’d never come back. 

Among all of this, the last object you packed was the only thing you made a point about carrying by yourself, and the only thing you didn’t trust anyone to pack but yourself: the sword of your mother, which was sent to your house by Ubuyashiki-sama and now belonged to you. Your mother has been teaching you lessons since you were a teenager, but she hasn’t lived long enough to see if you were going to develop your own Breath; well, until that day you haven’t, but you’ve never stopped practicing even under your father’s disapproval. You didn’t know what you would find once you stepped into your husband’s house, but you wouldn’t want to depend on his protection on everything; besides, having a wife who knew how to wield a sword must be an advantage, right? 

The train of thoughts, feelings and concerns was such that you were robbed from sleep the night before the ceremony. You knew women who had their marriages arranged as well, but you never got to talk to them about it; you had no idea of how you were supposed to feel, or how you were supposed to see the whole thing. How one should feel when they saw themselves trapped in a situation from which they couldn’t get out? Without having answers, you just relied on the feeling that seemed reasonable to you, that is, utter fear. 

The next morning came silent and inexorable, just as the ones before it, and you saw yourself leaving your bed and taking care of your duties without putting your thoughts on them. It was only your body working by itself, saving your soul from the burden of being conscious, or perhaps you were just accepting your fate after a night of tears and rage. 

Having dismissed the maid’s help, you bathed and dressed alone, and left the house where the most important moments of your life took place without one last look. To be fair, your eyes were so sore and tired that they barely registered the appearance of the weather while you walked to the carriage, but you guessed it was a warm, sunny day, though not enough for you to get sweaty. Your father was already in the carriage’s interior; you took the seat beside him with no signs of acknowledging his presence. 

The coachman shook the reins and yelled something to the horse, and the crack of the wooden wheels was heard as the vehicle moved along the road. 

*** 

The ceremony took place in a building in the city of (…), near your father’s property, which served as the head office of a group of law professionals, including the man responsible for your marital contract. 

You wouldn’t call it a ceremony, really: it was more of a sequence of bureaucratic procedures than a social event with the purpose of uniting two families; a mere formality to allow you to move to a man’s house without ruining your reputation. It was quick, direct and cold like a financial operation, and the people involved seemed to make sure it looked like this. 

Your father led you to a sequence of stairs and then through a narrow corridor, until he stopped in front of a door and opened it, entering the room and inciting you to follow him. You did it, and found out you weren’t the first to arrive: the officiant was already in his position, behind a table upon which you saw an open book; at its right, there was a small inkwell and a feather; around him, two officers which function you couldn’t guess and couldn’t care about. And, finally, in front of the table and observing your arrival with a stern glare, the man who was about to become your husband. 

Whatever you were expecting to see, Shinjuro was nothing like you might have imagined, except for the fact that he was younger than you supposed – and, indeed, younger than your father – and stole the attentions among all those men despite the quiet, composed manners. Well, he would do it in any place he’d step in, for his appearance was extravagant, to say the least: on his severe face he carried a pair of orange eyes under two thick, black eyebrows, a wild trait that made you think of a lion; framing his expression and matching his eyes, he had thick, blond hair that decreased to red on its edges, spreading over his shoulders. And, as if his looks weren’t enough to draw the whole room’s attention, he was dressed in sober, dark clothing, more like someone attending a western funeral than a wedding. 

As you walked to the center of the room, led by your father, and took the spot beside Shinjuro, you felt your skin burning in discomfort under his merciless eyes. You breathed deep and, when he nodded to acknowledge you two, you made an effort to greet him, as well as the other men. 

I knew he wasn’t the same person my father claimed to know. He stated that he was good and trustful, but everything in this man screams danger. What kind of hell I’m getting into… 

The officiant announced the beginning of the ceremony, and you turned to him in silence. After a few, composed words to the new couple, he gave you both clear instructions on where to sign your names, and you did as he said, Shinjuro first, then you; you glanced at his hand offering you the feather and took it in a second, taking care your hand didn’t touch his. You tried not to think of your gestures as you wetted its tip on the ink, but a tremble reached your wrist the instant you approached the feather from the paper. 

So… That’s it. I write my name in a book and enter a path from where I can’t go back. 

The realization was too much to bear and time was passing, so you bit your inner cheek to prevent your mind to entertain the thought and scribbled your name at once. When you moved the feather away and put it back on the inkwell, your hand acted by itself, and your arm gone numb once you recoiled it to your side. 

Your mouth was dry, and a hole seemed to have taken the place of your heart. You barely noticed when the officiant and the other witnesses analyzed your signatures and approved them, bringing the ceremony to an end. You refused to believe all of that was real until the man announced you were free to go, and both Shinjuro and you turned away, preparing to leave. He didn’t bat an eye at you while doing so. 

The head of the Rengoku family stopped to exchange some words with your father. You were close enough to hear the conversation, but didn’t want to pay attention; you just wanted to leave this place, even though you weren’t going to a familiar one after it. 

You only understood their conversation was over when you heard your father’s voice calling your name. You turned to him and your stomach curled in disgust when you saw the pleading smile on his face, the only thing that reminded you of home and now a sign of everything you lost. You’ve never felt so alone. 

Later, you’d try to remember his exact words for you at that moment, but you’d find yourself unable to do it. Maybe it was a formal wish of good luck or something. The only thing you remembered was your reaction: you stared at him for a few seconds, then, without a word, you turned your face away, walking toward the door. You knew your husband was observing, but his approval was the least of your preoccupations now. 

*** 

Little was recalled by you from the travel to the Rengoku house, except that it was silent, even calm period. The only abnormality was caused by you: unlike your other belongings, who were sent in another vehicle ahead under the supervision of a servant, you decided you were going to carried your sword with you in the carriage, to everyone’s surprise and your father’s discontentment. 

That occasion was also when Shinjuro spoke to you for the first time. 

— Why are you doing this? 

The question, made when you were already in the carriage, was direct but not devoid of politeness, so you granted him an honest answer. 

— This sword once belonged to my mother, and now it is mine. If my father had his way, I’d never carry it with me, but I refuse to leave it behind — and, glancing at him, — I couldn’t risk him checking my things and subtracting it from them without my consent. 

Shinjuro only murmured an “I see” in response, and the conversation died there. 

You were beside the carriage’s window and might have slept to the warmth of the sun and the constant noise of the wheels in movement, but you weren’t sure if you did. As your body was now avoiding visible reactions, your spirit was suppressing the emotional rush for your own good, since no advantage would come from a breakdown in the middle of the road, right in front of your new spouse who, just like you, didn’t seem all pleased with the whole thing: sure, he didn’t show visible discontentment whether with your appearance or your manners, but you’ve been dealing with middle aged men for too long to sense when they were seeing something they didn’t find appropriate; and, in the present case, it was clear to you that Shinjuro already formed his opinion: to him, you were a stubborn, spoiled brat who didn’t have her way and was decided to make it everyone else’s problem. Yes, the idea of acting like that wandered through your mind for a while, but you thought you were better than this, and opted for a balance between bitterness and decency, not wearing plain clothing and displaying rude manners, but also not being extravagant in anything; still, you couldn’t convince the man of your good nature, and he let it clear with the inquiring about the sword, so now you completely gave up on seeking his favor. 

You were just waiting for the travel to end. 

Chapter 2

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 16

Prompt: Animal

Words: 800~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

This one is a pre-relationship, Alternate First Meeting, type of deal.

Enjoy!

Ghost was sat in Price’s office, not for want of company, but because Price had called him in then promptly got distracted by cussing out his insurrecting printer. When the machine had finally ceded to giving Price the paper he wanted -with legible text- he turned to address Ghost.

“We’ve got a new member coming in.” He said, slapping the paper into the dossier then handing the folder across to Ghost. 

“Really?” Ghost skepticized, “We got time for a F.N.G right now?” 

“John MacTavish, S.A.S. Sniper, Demolitions. Goes by ‘Soap’.” Price informed him, “Going by the amount of commendations he’s got his head on straight, and going by the amount of reprimands he’s not too much of an arse.” 

Price watched Ghost open the folder, skim reading and rapidly flipping through the pages. 

“I met him once, seemed like a good man,” Price spoke, keeping his tone idle, “And Shepherd wants him on the team.”

“O’course that’s it.” Ghost scoffed. Shepherd had a habit of elevating men he said had ‘potential’. The only potential Ghost had seen in the few he’d met was the potential to be a pain in his ass. They'd been lucky so far that the General had been mostly keeping his nose out of Price’s new task force, but it seemed their grace period was over. 

“He a shifter or a one-skin?” Ghost asked, unable to find the relevant page in the dossier. 

Price raised a slow eyebrow at his Lieutenant, “Shifter.” He answered, with a hefty undertone of ‘at least pretend you’re smarter than you look’. 

That was fair. 

General Shepherd was of the firm and loud opinion that Shifters were far superior to Statics. He would have never recommended someone that wasn’t a Shifter. 

“What is he?” Ghost asked, closing the folder and tossing it onto the Captain’s desk.

“Not sure, just know he’s a Shifter.” Price shrugged, leaning back in his chair and pulling a cigar from his desk drawers to hold between his teeth, “I was told that the documentation was ‘under revision’ and it’d be forwarded when it was fixed.” 

“The fuck does that mean,” Ghost demanded, he didn’t like bad intel, but if he knew it was bad it was still better than nothing. He could usually glean something by looking between the lines at least. Couldn’t do that with a blank page.

“Search me, Riley,” Price spread his empty hands, “You can ask him in-” he glanced at his watch “-half an hour. He gets in at O’nine hundred.” 

Eight-Fifty A.M found Ghost staring down the transport approaching the base’s tarmac. He watched every soul that exited, his eyes catching on one man that was flagrantly flouting regulations by having his hair shaved into a warhawk of all things. His dread and intuition were proved correct when the man veered away from the building to approach Ghost.

“Lieutenant Riley?” He asked, hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder and holding out a hand for Ghost to shake, “I’m Sergeant MacTavish, Sir.”

“You have your personnel file?” Ghost demanded, ignoring the outstretched hand. 

“Aye, I do.” MacTavish answered and dropped his bag to open it, presumably to retrieve the requested papers. Ghost could appreciate that he didn’t seem put out by his gruff words. 

MacTavish handed over his file, it was heftier than the one Price had given him, thick with medical records and untruncated mission reports. Ghost rifled through it, willingly ignoring MacTavish who had -for lack of any other instructions- chosen to stand at attention before him. Finding what he was looking for, Ghost read it with hungry eyes. 

‘SuSp: HSB 

SecCla: Genus - Canis’ 

SubSpecies: Homo Sapiens Bestialis, Secondary Classification: Genus - Canis. 

The photo attached looked wolf-like to Ghost, but as MacTavish’s file omitted his species he could be an overgrown pomeranian for all Ghost knew. 

“We were told this section is being revised, and didn’t receive it.” Ghost condescended to inform the Sergeant, tilting the page for the man to see the section in question.

“Yes, Sir.” MacTavish’s tone was much more formal, Ghost assumed MacTavish felt that he wasn’t worth trying to be friendly with anymore and forced himself to not regret it, “I petitioned for the rights to be classified under the species Canis Lupus, Sir” 

“Why were you not already classed Canis Lupus,” Ghost interrogated, snapping the folder closed and tucking it securely under his arm. 

“Because when I signed on I classed myself as Canis Lupus Anglicus, and was denied, Sir.” MacTavish answered, dutifully keeping any personal opinions he may have about that particular decision out of his tone. 

“Is it ruled extinct?” Ghost questioned, starting to understand. 

“The Canis Lupus Anglicus, Sir?” MacTavish clarified, continuing at Ghost’s affirming nod, “Yes, Sir. It’s ruled extinct, Sir.”

Ghost nodded again, more to himself than MacTavish, it all made sense now. There was an outdated rule in place, that followed the -thoroughly disproven- idea that Shifters could only be extant animals. Price himself was undeniably an Irish Elk and his papers read ‘SecCla: Subfamily - Cervinae’, as both his genus and species were ruled extinct. 

Ghost was glad that the Brown Bear wasn’t even close to going extinct, he knew a poor schmuck that shifted into a Western Black Rhino who’d had to have all his papers revised after they were ruled extinct, because that made perfect sense. 

“Follow me,” Ghost commanded and turned to lead the Sergeant to Price’s office.

The Captain would get a kick out of meeting a fellow victim of the Brass’s stupidity.

Thank You For Reading!

For my Shifter AU there's two Subspecies of Homo Sapiens, the Homo Sapiens Bestialis, and the Homo Sapiens Constans. Or the Shifters and the Statics as they're commonly called. 'One-Skin' is not very polite slang for a Static.

So, a Static's papers would read: SuSp: HSC SecCla: NA

All the 141 are Shifters.

Price - Irish Elk (Subfamily: Cervinae | Genus: Megaloceros[extinct] | Species: M. Giganteus[extinct]) 

Ghost - Eurasian Brown Bear (Genus: Ursus | Species: U. Arctos | Subspecies: U. A. Arctos)

Gaz - Carpathian Lynx (Genus: Lynx | Species: L. Lynx | Subspecies: L. L. Carpathicus)

Soap - British Wolf (Genus: Canis | Species: C. Lupus | Subspecies: C. L. Anglicus[extinct])

Confession Time! There is no such Subspecies as the 'Canis Lupus Anglicus'. When I was researching animals for the 141 to be I really liked the idea of Soap being the extinct British wolf, but they don't have a Subspecies name, so entire gimmick that this entry hinged on wouldn't have worked. So, I just made one up.

Here's my research on the British wolf: The British Wolf is a breed that was driven out of Britain in the 1500s and hunted to extinction in Scotland in the 1800s. Commonly thought to be a variation of the Eurasian wolf(Canis Lupus Lupus), it may have also been its own distinct subspecies of the gray wolf(Canis Lupus), as it shows distinct physical differences to the Eurasian wolf. An almost entire skull with missing teeth was discovered in Kents Cavern, Devon, by a Mr Mac Enery. The skull was exactly equal in size to that of an Arctic wolf, the only notable differences being that the sectorial molar was slightly larger and the lower border of the jaw was more convex.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[plasticfreckles]

🌙 the ~activity~ one solavellan enjoy🌙

He does not need to see her face to know that, somehow, her mind is not with them.

So he leans over her, ignoring the strain in his wrists from having them rendered immobile between their hips.

"Vhenan," he murmurs, and a shudder chases down her spine where his breath touches her skin. "Come back to me."

She shuffles to rest on her cheek, to look back up at him as best she can while still being planted face-down in the pillows.

"I am here." Her hips push back against his, underlining her words and taking him in further.

"Your mind is elsewhere." He leans up, sits back on his heels. The lack of her is wet and ice-cold on him. "Do you wish to stop?"

She turns, taking care not to hit his face with her foot.

"What makes you think that?" She reaches for him, pulls at his hand and curls it into her breast. Her nipple is hard and sensitive under his palm.

"I am claiming you, and you're not resisting, but you're not participating, either. Not anymore."

He had pulled her up from between his knees after innocent flirts, not so innocent touches and enough wine to alter the mind, trailing kisses down her front before gently turning her to her knees and taking her. Her face had sunken into the cushions of her own accord.

At some point, she had stopped rocking back to meet him, stopped struggling to breathe, stopped reaching for his hands in the crook of her hip and pushing down on the small of her back. Even stopped swishing her hair out of her face, over her shoulder and underneath her body.

"Do you require different touches?"

She blows a strand of hair out of her face.

"I.. I am afraid I will upset you. With what I have to say. And we're having so much fun."

"You aren't having fun, vhenan. But I cannot please you unless you tell me."

Something in his expression makes her lean up on her elbows.

"Solas, no. It's nothing you did wrong, I promise you." She climbs into his lap and kisses him, softly, gently, filled with so much affection it pushes the air out of his lungs.

"If you'd prefer to mount me-"

"Solas." The tone makes him pause. They both have to cross their eyes to look at each other, but they will both bear it for now. "I am a grown, independent woman. If I preferred to mount you, I would not offer to be bred like a dog."

It starts to dawn on him that maybe he should not force this conversation, that maybe she did not want to share this concern with him-

"Whenever I had sex before, it never lasted this long. They didn't. So, when you made me cum so often I lost count, and you're still not done. " A nod downward, the remains of their desire making the air cold on him. She draws in a breath, shallow and hasty. Like it was the first time they saw each other. "I started to wonder. How long is he going to take?"

She looks at his mouth now, hands curling loosely around his throat. More hair falls into her face; he brushes it away.

He doesn't say what he thinks, if you could wonder, I am not claiming you as well I should, as well you deserve.

"I suppose I'll just have to adapt to your stamina. A whole new world," she breathes into the space between their lips, one hand slipping down and thrusting up and down on him, but he holds her by her shoulders.

"A moment. How long has it lasted, before?"

It's a devastating information that is about to be uncovered, he can feel it. She hums in contemplation.

"The last one I had? I would not have gotten to the point to wonder. I wouldn't even cum unless I did it myself. He wasn't even that fresh. No excuse, really."

He groans, not entirely because of her motions on him.

"Foolish young men." The lot of them, to get to know Lavellan so carnally and not endeavor to worship her every freckle, to make her peak so often, so intense she can no longer tell north from south. To not take the time to learn what pleased her and then spend as much time as the world had to offer to turn that knowledge into action.

"I always thought it common knowledge that the one receiving peaks at least twice more than the one offering, and first, too."

Solas struggles to put voice behind his thought. Lavellan is too close, too eager, too skilled-

He steals the kiss that had lingered between them, finally. Fingers crawl from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, the other hand tightening its grip on him the way his fingers dug into her skin. Renewed desire wet-hot on his thigh where she grinds down with movements so subtle he almost thinks he imagines them.

"That sounds like so much fun. Show me."

"I will, so long as you promise to stay here, with me. Rest your mind. Let me draw your thoughts from your body."

"Take me. Whichever way you desire. Ea nar."

If there's an excited little chuckle from her lungs when she slides off his thighs as he rises, turns her back around and to her knees, wrapping her hair around his hand and wrist like a leash, he won't tell.

🌙

"ea nar" is what happens when u sit me in front of Project Elvhen too long. I've never been good at grammar, but the good thing is, if it is wrong, I can just say its on purpose bc Lavellan is still learning and Solas too horn knee to correct her rn :D

Ea: to be + nar = your, yours

also i read the The Truths Between chapter where they smash last night and it is hands down on of the best-ly written scenes I've read in my life and if Biowares invented video game men hadn't ruined me for real human men before that chapter in their fic would've done it <3

also i finished trespasser instead of working on my thesis and I need them to smash SO HARD in veilguard u got no idea

[vivalas-vega]

Oooh my, your requests are freaking open???? I've got an idea in my head for a long time and now I give it a try and send it to you. I'm obsessed with Jake (and Bradley) x Roomie (fem reader or oc) trope, so apologies in advance for this one (also a sucker for hurt and comfort 😬). I try to keep it as short as possible: Rooster's and Hangman's new roomie has a sad past. She has sleeping issues and bad nightmares. They hear her whimpering and crying in her sleep. The guys are worried but she plays it down, feeling bad for waking them up with her shit. Maybe she starts to sleep walking and unfortunately hurts herself during this episode. The guys find her in the middle if the night hurt. And she opens up to them telling them about her dreams and her past.

ahhhh !!! I'm so glad to finally get this one posted, I'm so sorry it took so long ! I am such a sucker for the roommate trope, and I love writing stories that are strictly platonic, just focusing on lovely friendship vibes bc those are just as important as the romantic ones !!! I hope you enjoy!

(this doesn't have a title yet bc it's admittedly the thing I'm the worst at when it comes to writing fics)

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, some suggestive humor, language, brief and vague mentions of death, lmk if I missed any

“Are you going to eat these leftovers?” you asked Bradley, who was sitting at the kitchen island keeping you company as you cleaned out the fridge and he stared at the tupperware container for an infuriatingly long time, contemplating his options before you let out an exasperated sigh. “Bradshaw, it’s pasta. Yes or no?”

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re in a mood.” 

“No mood, it would just be nice if you could be snappier in your responses while you just watch me clean the kitchen.”

“Yeah, definitely not in a mood,” he muttered under his breath but you heard it anyway. “Do you know where Hangman is?”

“You two share a bathroom and you still can’t call him by his name?” you asked with a chuckle. “He’s at the gym, should be back soon.”

“We only share a bathroom because you got the master,” he protested and you laughed again.

“I needed the bigger closet,” you shrugged. “I told you you’re welcome to use mine anytime.”

“After you reamed me for using your face wash? Thank you, but no thank you, I haven’t been yelled at like that since I borrowed my moms car to take Cindy Daniels on a date.”

“I only yelled because you used a forty dollar cleanser as body wash and somehow managed to use half the bottle. Besides, your mom was right to yell at you too, you stole her car and you were thirteen.”

“I was covered in grease! And my date with Cindy is none of your business.” 

“Are we having the face wash fight again?” Jake asked as he came in through the garage, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he reached around you to grab a bottle of water, but you only pushed him away, muttering something about keeping his sweat away from you. “Take the blame, Chicken, you wasted half a bottle of Drunk Elephant, you’re lucky she didn’t put you on the porch for the night.”

“See, the craziest thing about this whole situation is you were just as outraged as she was.”

“Good skincare is not just for women, you might want to invest in a routine of your own.” he smirked before disappearing down the hallway and you heard the sound of the shower turning on.

“You working tomorrow?” Bradley asked, getting up to wash the containers you’d placed near the sink.

You shook your head, “a Friday and Saturday off, Penny was feeling extra generous.” You’d met the two of them, along with the rest of the team, when they’d first gotten to town for the infamous and secretive mission that almost claimed the life of the man currently donning cherry-printed cleaning gloves and scrubbing pasta sauce out of tupperware. You’d all become fast friends, they’d coax you out from behind the bar on your breaks or when your shift was over for darts or pool, and when your lease was up just as they received word of a permanent assignment it seemed to make sense for the three of you to find a place together. It was a godsend for you, it got you out of your cramped apartment with dismal lighting and into a beautiful craftsman only a few blocks away from the beach. Even with arguments with Bradley about face wash and a sweaty Jake, it was a no-brainer.

“Could we convince you into coming to your place of work on a night off? These new recruits are testing our patience, Phoenix wants a fun night out to blow off steam.”

“I could potentially be persuaded,” you replied, shutting the fridge after deeming it was as cleared out as it was going to get. 

“Which translates to as long as I’m not mixing them, I’ll always show up for drinks,” Jake said, walking back into the kitchen with freshly washed hair. “Do I get any kind of welcome home now that I’m not sweaty?” 

“No, because now you’re wet, did you even dry off?” you asked, snapping him with a dish towel before he rounded the island and wrapped his arms around you.

“Enough,” he answered, squeezing you tight as you pretended to hate it. Really, you loved living with these two. Being on your own before was starting to take its toll on you, and they reminded you of a different time in your life, one that felt like it was ancient history. “Not to dampen the mood, but… we did want to talk to you about something.”

“Sounds serious, should I break out the house meeting wine?” you asked, eyeing them skeptically as they shared a look with each other that you couldn’t quite decipher.

“We just wanted to… check in,” Bradley started and you raised your eyebrows. “The past few weeks we’ve heard certain sounds coming from your room and-”

“Okay, first of all,-” you started to cut him off, eyes wide at what you thought he was insinuating.

“Not like that, sweetheart,” Jake interjected. “But feel free to get louder when you do,” he half-joked and you hit him with the towel again. “What bird boy is trying to say is sometimes we hear what sounds like nightmares coming from your room and it’s happened enough that we just want to check in and see if everything is okay.” You suddenly felt nauseous. 

“If there’s something going on, or you need someone to talk to, you know we’re here, right?” Bradley asked and you nodded softly.

“I know, everything is fine, I’m sorry if I woke you.” you said, trying to dismiss their concerns altogether as you occupied yourself with looking over the mail.

“It’s just… it doesn’t sound fine, if you don’t want to talk to us we can help you find someone else to talk to, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jake tried and you gave him a forced smile.

“And I am, but I’m glad the two of you finally found something to agree on.” You tossed some junk mail in the garbage before turning to face them again, “I have some errands I want to run early tomorrow morning… text me if you need anything from the store but I’m going to turn in. Goodnight,” you said with another forced smile before heading down the hall and letting out a sigh as your back pressed against your closed bedroom door. You thought that things had gotten better… that enough time had passed. They seemed to be happening less and less, but maybe that wasn’t as true as you once thought. 

Your footsteps down the hallway were an unusual sound for this time of night… nightmares or not, once you went to bed you weren’t seen until the following morning and it was enough to stir Jake from his slumber. You on the other hand, were completely unaware of what was going on, still stuck in a dream, stuck in a fluorescent lit hallway with tears streaming down your face only you weren’t… you were in your living room, walking straight into the console table and falling onto the broken glass of the picture frames and vases you’d knocked over which was enough to jolt both of them out of bed. 

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Bradley asked, crouching down beside you as you came to.

“Mav- Maverick?” you asked, voice hoarse as you struggled to place where you were, the images from your dream still fresh in your mind. He looked at Jake confused who was on the other side of you and carefully pushing glass aside.

“No, it’s Bradley… Honey, what happened?” You blinked a few times, finally recognizing you were on the floor of your living room and the searing pain of broken glass in your palms and knees.

“I don’t- oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you winced as you tried to stand but Jake was quick to scoop you up, holding you tight as he walked to the kitchen and carefully placed you next to the sink while Bradley grabbed the first aid kit. “I- I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m okay, you can go back to bed.” He just frowned at you and when Bradley returned he started pulling the shards from your palms while Jake worked on your knees. Silent tears were still streaming down your face and they were both trying to figure out how to ask you what was wrong, but one thing they knew for certain was no one was going back to bed until they got to the bottom of what was going on with you.

“Sweetheart, do you want to tell us what’s going on?” Jake asked softly, looking up briefly to meet your eyes before gently running his thumb along your cuts, making sure there weren’t any pieces he missed. 

You shook your head as you wiped your cheeks, “nothing, I just… I don’t know, I guess I was half-asleep? I’m really sorry I woke you,” you said and they both looked at you like they didn’t believe a word of it.

“Alright, I was willing to maybe let it go before but you could have been seriously hurt tonight. Something is going on with you,” Jake said, voice firm as he stopped what he was doing to wipe a few of your tears.

“Whatever it is, you can tell us. Why did you say Maverick’s name when you woke up?” Bradley asked and you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath before letting it all out. 

“I uh… there’s something I never told you about me.” you started, taking a moment to breathe as you felt your throat tighten. They stayed quiet, both carefully dabbing at your cuts with a damp cloth or rubbing aquaphor over them before bandaging them. “I wasn’t a teacher before realizing I liked bartending more, I was a pilot.”

“Wait, what?” Bradley asked, shock evident in his tone and Jake elbowed him, eyes silently pleading for you to continue. 

“My callsign is- or was Flash… like the superhero,” you chuckled but there wasn’t much humor in it and both of their eyes widened. “I was on a mission that went south really fast,  we were outnumbered and outgunned, we ran out of resources quickly. I was hit, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t save it, I couldn’t save him.” you choked out.

“Who?” Bradley whispered, you were all cleaned up now and they were both focused solely on you. Jake was rubbing reassuring circles on your thigh as Bradley held one of your hands in his own.

“My wizzo, we called him Genie… we both got to our squad at the same time, and on our first night out his icebreaker was if you had three wishes, what would you wish for?” You laughed again, but this time it was genuine.

“I’ve heard of him,” Jake said, noticing your breathing quicken just at the mention of him. “Both of you, actually, from what I’ve heard you were a hell of a pilot.”

“He couldn’t eject, something went wrong with the handles… I’d already pulled mine when I heard him say they were stuck and the next thing I know the jet is crashing into a hillside below me. I thought the dreams were getting better, and that I was maybe starting to move past it… I don’t think I really registered that it was happening again, or maybe that it never stopped.” 

“Honey, why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Bradley asked, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and you focused your gaze on your hands.

“I just… I didn’t want you to know that I failed my wizzo,” you choked out. “Or that the last time I was in a cockpit I nearly crashed again and Mav had to talk me through landing a plane I’ve landed thousands of times before because I panicked. I didn’t want you guys to censor yourselves when it came to work stuff out of pity for me being a failed pilot, and I guess… I just didn’t want you guys to look at me differently.”

“Hey, what happened wasn’t your fault,” Jake said, squeezing your thigh gently and prompting you to look up at him. “And we would never look at you differently for that, we understand.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that… and just know that we don’t think of you as a failure. We’ve both heard about that mission, there was nothing you could have done. Faulty equipment and being outgunned is not your burden to bear.” Bradley added, running a hand along your back.

“What is it that you say sometimes? It’s not the plane, it’s the pilot?” you asked, sadness seeping into your tone and he just pulled you into his side and pressed a kiss to your head.

“There’s not much the pilot can do if the plane fails them.”

“You went through a trauma, we would never fault you for not flying again after that.” Jake said and you smiled softly.

“Mav could… god, he tried so hard, he was really there for me after it happened, but… when I finally got back into a plane I just couldn’t shake it. It was like I could still hear him in my backseat even though he wasn’t there.”

“Just because Mav could, that doesn’t mean you’re a lesser pilot or a lesser person for not being able to, if anything I think it makes you stronger. You knew your limits, and instead of pushing through it when you couldn’t trust flying again you took a step back. I know a lot of people who wouldn’t make that same choice.” Bradley said, nudging Jake and you let out a laugh as you wiped your face again.

“Yeah, I thank my lucky stars I never crossed this one’s path when I was still flying,” you said and Jake’s face twisted up in shock.

“Hey, why are we ganging up on me now?” he asked and you laughed again. 

“You make it so easy,” you teased and they both smiled, happy to see you coming back into yourself a little.

“We’re here for you, okay? So is everyone else,” Bradley said, pulling you into him again and you let yourself wrap your arms around him as you laid your head on his chest and Jake kept rubbing circles into your skin.

“No matter what, you can always come wake us up if you need someone.”

“I love you guys, you know that?” 

You could hear the smirk in Jake’s voice as he said, “oh, we know.” He wrapped himself around the other side of you as the two of them squished you between them. “We love you too.”

taglist: @callsignspirit @thegodessc @failuretothrivestuff @olliepig @cruelmissdior @underaveragefangirl @grxcieluvr @amatswimming @camilaricci @nolita-fairytale @dempy @pinkpantheris @aviatorobsessed @tiredqueen73 @pono-pura-vida @binnieslove @nik2blog @waklman @abaker74 @halstead-severide-fan @percysaidnever @memeorydotcom @eli2447 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @djs8891 @Genius2050 @stargazer-88 @chloeforde @kmc1989 @casa-boiardi (if your name is struck through, it means I couldn't tag you - sorry!)

[whxtedreams]

The Cellar

A Jackson!Joel x Reader drabble

Summary: You’re not the only person that has their eye on Tommy’s personal stash of alcohol.  

Word Count: 1k

Tags: Mentions of alcohol, Joel being cocky, what is personal space? Joel doesn’t know that’s for sure

The ask that requested this

Main masterlist

Deep underground and hidden within the depths of the town of Jackson, lies the wine cellar.

Although it was most likely built to be a hidden and secret room long before the outbreak, the wine cellar now serves as a place for Tommy’s stockpile for the Tipsy Bison.

More importantly, the alcohol he keeps for himself.

Access to the wine cellar can only be gained through a hidden entrance, known by few. The wine cellar's location is a jealously kept secret within the town, whispered about in hushed tones.

You, however, know exactly how to get inside Tommy’s not-so-well-kept secret.

You had noticed Tommy carefully closing the secret hatch behind the bar, concealing it with the rug one afternoon. The door was unlocked so you walked in and pretended not to see him magically appear behind the bar.

Now that you think about it, he had seemed unusually persistent about keeping that rug there no matter how many drinks were spilled on it

You diverted Tommy's attention by showing him your latest find - a unique and interesting collection of coasters you had picked up during your most recent looting trip. The distraction was effective as his focus shifted away from you and onto the coasters.

Under the cover of the night, the glow of the moon illuminated the streets. Tommy finally closed the Tipsy Bison for the night. As he locked up and bid his goodbyes, you seized the opportunity to slip out from under the pool table.

Now was your chance.

With quick steps, you made your way to the bar.

Excitement washed over you as you finally moved the damp, sticky rug aside, revealing the hidden hatch beneath. To your delight, you found that it was unlocked.

You pause for a moment as the hatch groans in protest, its hinges loudly creaking under the movement. A quick glance backward confirms that the bar is still empty, with no sign of Tommy. You sigh, realizing you were alone, save for the shadowy presence of the cellar below.

As you descend into the dimly lit underground room, the flickering glow from lanterns reveal endless stacks of shelves. The stale air hung heavy around you, creating an eerie stillness. The cold, rough brick walls contrasts the bright glow of the lanterns, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

You navigate through the maze of canned food and tightly stacked barrels, steadily moving deeper into the cellar. As you progress, the dancing shadows from the lanterns above reced, gradually giving way to the encroaching darkness.

But you aren’t here because of the stockpile of food. No, you are here for Tommy’s alcohol.

The sharp thump against a nearby barrel made you pivot on your heels, heart rate increasing with each passing second. The meager light cast by the distant lanterns prevent you from seeing more than a few feet into the darkened corner of the room and you assume it was just a rat.

You hope.

As you continue through the labyrinth of shelves, your eyes lock onto a door at the end of the row. It stands in a corner, partially concealed in the darkness and beckons you closer.

The hinges on the door creak as you push it open, revealing a tiny room with a simple table and a single shelf adorned with an array of alcoholic bottles. A small string light sways almost hypnotically as it casts a warm glow over the cramped room.

“If you don’t want Tommy to know someone is drinking his stash, I recommend finding a similar bottle and switching the labels with a cheaper one.” A voice says from behind you.

Startled, you spin around to face the unexpected voice.

Joel casually leans against the door frame with a bottle of wine in one hand and an amused smirk on his face. The soft glow of the light swaying back and forth creates a mesmerizing, ever-changing display of shadows across his face.

Taking a step closer, Joel pushes himself away from the door frame and leans inward, now close enough that you can feel the brush of his breath against your skin. In that moment of proximity, it feels as though the walls of the small room are closing in on you. He leans over you, shifting his weight to switch the bottle on the shelf behind you.

Joel’s smirk deepens when you don’t say anything, a soft chuckle fills the room and you swear you feel it rumble in his chest from how close he is.

“Don’t worry I won’t tell Tommy you’re down here,” He says before he leans closer to you and whispers in your ear, “if you promise me you won’t tell him I was here either.”

His breath, warm and soft, ghosts against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The brief contact is electrifying, leaving you wide-eyed.

In that moment, words fail you, your voice catching in your throat. Instead, you quickly nod your head.

The words, "Good girl," roll off Joel's tongue in a deep, velvety tone, his voice a low whisper in your ear. As he takes a step back, a smirk spreads across his face - a cocky, confident expression that seems to say he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

With a smooth, confident movement, Joel uncorks the bottle and picks up a glass from the table next to you and fills it with the contents of the bottle. His fingers touch yours momentarily as he hands you the glass, his touch sending a shiver down your spine and making your hands tremble. His gaze is focused on your eyes, seemingly enjoying the effect he's having on you as you stand there, hands shaking ever so slightly.

With a casual tone, Joel says, "Same time next week then." He walks backwards out of the room, his gaze never leaving you as he gives a small wave and a wink, then turns away to leave.

You watch silently as he disappears into the shadows, your breath caught in your lungs until he's no longer visible. Only then do you exhale, the air rushing out of your lungs as you take a shaky breath. The silence that follows is deafening, the only sound being the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“Fuck me,” you say, meaning all terms of the phrase.

Your focus shifts back to the shelves, all taste and desire lost and replaced with something else. 

Or rather, someone else.

[starry-nights-garden]

Jake ✧ Necklace

✧ Enhypen Jake x gn!reader ✧ words: ~800 ✧ genre: domestic fluff, comfort ✧ warnings: reader is implied to be struggling with depression

Desc.: In which you’re having a hard time lately, and your boyfriend Jake knows just how to make it better.

You’ve turned off most of the lights when the front door opens late in the evening and your boyfriend comes inside. Engulfed in the comfort of an oversized sweater you have dug up from your closet, you were in the middle of walking over to the kitchen to look for something edible to have for dinner, even though your appetite is nowhere to be found. You’ve been feeling down these past few days, and you’re used to this state by now, as it’s a recurring one, but that doesn’t mean your boyfriend won’t worry about you, so at least for his sake you want to try to take care of your basic needs as well as you can. 

“Hey babe,” he mutters into the dark room as his footsteps draw closer. “I’m back.” Jake comes to a halt right next to you and you turn on your heels to look at him. A weak smile shows on your face, warmth growing in your chest upon his return from work. He spreads his arms, cocking his head to the side just a little bit and waiting for a second to see whether you’re up for a hug or not, and when you step towards him to close the distance between your bodies, he wraps you up in a comforting embrace. Feeling lighter as he steadies you, pulling you towards him, you close your eyes for a moment, taking in the faint scent of the perfume he had applied in the morning and that had mostly faded over the day.

“I got you something,” he announces once you part, and you raise your eyebrows at him in surprise. He pulls a small white paper bag out of the bigger one that he often brings with him whenever he goes out, and he hands it to you. “It’s nothing big,” he says, avoiding eye contact and very obviously feeling a bit shy, “but it reminded me of you, so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he watches with great interest and a bit of worry behind his gaze as you open the present, and you eventually find a silver necklace with a small flower attached to it. It’s painted with a muted pink color and its shape is elegant - quite the style of accessory you like to wear.

“It’s beautiful…” you mumble, and when you look up at your boyfriend, he doesn’t miss a beat to offer you to help you try it on. You walk over to the small mirror you have displayed on one of the shelves in the living room as decoration, and you remove the hood from your head so your disheveled hair comes into sight. You watch as Jake puts the accessory around your neck, and for a second you find yourself regretting that you haven’t managed to make yourself look presentable today, because surely the necklace would’ve looked better on you then. However, next thing you know your boyfriend snakes his arms around your waist from behind, placing his chin atop your shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“You’re beautiful too,” he whispers, making you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“You think?” you ask, and he can probably see why you would pose such a question, as he’s chuckling at your words now.

“Of course,” Jake answers, pressing his lips against the side of your throat again. He spins you around in his hold, simply smiling at you for a moment, until he retrieves one hand from behind you in order to trace the side of your face with the back of his fingers. “Can I kiss you?” Now it’s you who’s chuckling at the way your boyfriend is still careful as ever not to accidentally overstep a boundary, even though you’ve been dating for a while and you know each other very well by now. You nod, and the next second you feel him capturing your chin between your thumb and index finger, before brushing his lips against yours. He kisses you with care, making your heart soar from how loved his gentle touches make you feel, and when you part slowly, you whisper against his mouth,

“Thank you. For thinking of me.” He receives your words with a smile filled with adoration for you, and after standing in each other’s arms for a while he finally peels himself away from you, grabbing you by the wrist instead.

“You haven’t eaten yet, right?” he assumes and you answer yes while lowering your head a bit, feeling bad about most likely making him worry again. However, instead of scolding you, he simply says, “Let’s order your favourites then? It’s on me.”

[grapenamjams]

Gaz with a recovering injured reader

This is part two to Gaz scenario with a fatally injured reader

A/n: this was long overdue

“You’re giving the nurses a headache, with your pacing Gaz” Kyle starts at the sound of the captains gruff voice sounding next to him.

Kyle apologetically looks at the nurses at their station. Giving him a sympathetic look before his eyes land on Price’s crossed arms.

“Captain.” He states as a greeting standing straighter, not realizing he had hunched forward in his so on pacing.

The base’s medical wing was filled with its usual sounds of conversation, hurried footsteps, stretcher wheels and monitors. But the captains clear voice cut through Kyle’s buzzing mind “What are you doing here Gaz?”

Kyle’s eyes shoot to price, raking his brain if he was supposed be somewhere else, a meeting he had forgotten? But the captains face didn’t look like he was here to reprimand him.

The sergeant’s eyes then looked to the room number placed beside the door. The same one that has been engraved in his memory, from prior attempted visits.

“I came to see [name]. Heard they were stable enough for visits.” he said putting his hands in his pockets.

Price huffed “didn’t make myself clear” Kyle looked back at him again confused. “What are you doing out here Gaz.” The captains voice was calm as always.

the soldiers gaze returns back to the floor. Knowing what his captain meant but unable to say the truth. “I don’t know”

But he did. He was supposed to be in that room the moment he heard that you were stable to be by your side when you woke up, but he hadn’t. telling himself that he should let you rest, that you were being taken care of, that he would come visit you once you were awake and now the moment has come, and he had been pacing the floor outside your room for the past two hours. 

“I hate lies. Especially from my team” his voice grumbles. But Kyle feels him move towards him, feeling his arm clasp his shoulder. price lets out a breath “let go of that guilt. That’s why I’m captain, I’m the one to hold it” kyle eyes look back to prices strong ones but ones that always had a shadow around the edges with tiredness. “But Cap I-“ Kyle started

Before price cuts him off “go see them son, before I drag you in there myself”

Kyle sucks in a breath when he sees price disappear around the corner.

Opening the door to your room and imagining what he would see is something that had crossed his mind ever since they told him you made it out of surgery.

But the image of you sitting up on the edge of your bed, reaching for the wheel chair was not one.

“What do you think you are doing?” Kyle’s voices rises rushing to you.

Your eyes blink up at him, taken by surprise at his sudden presence. sighing, still reaching out for the wheelchair you answer determined “Getting out of here”

Gaz pushes the wheelchair away from you even though you were not nearly in reach of it. “That so? On whose orders?”

“Mine. Now be a darling and bring it over” you see him shake his head. He pushes your shoulders gently, laying you back down onto the hospital bed. “Not a chance. You’re staying put until the doctor says you’re okay”

You let out a slight wince at the movement before rolling your eyes. “I’m fine gaz. Stop looking at me like I’m going to break at any moment”

His gaz takes you in and a flash of blood presents itself on your adomen and leg, and your pale face with your eyes closed. The image receeds as fast as it came. “You almost died.” His voice comes out hoarse and pained making you look up at him. His handsome features looking weary.

“But I didn’t. We both had close calls before.” you say

“Not like this” he says softly. “You lost so much blood..you were on that operating table for so long. and I-“ with each word he finds his voice again “I didn’t know if you were going to make it. But I needed you too. I needed to hear your voice again, that was all I asked for these past few weeks. To hear your voice once more, to know you were still in this world.”

His mind goes to the unbearable silence that hadn’t stopped ringing after you’d gone quite on the other side of his comms that day. A silence louder than any explosion or gun shot he’s witnessed. A absent sound that made him almost go mad.

“Kyle” calling his name softly makes his eyes refocus on you.

He steps closer to your bedside. “I can’t loose you. I refuse too. if I’m near you or away, just knowing you’re alive and breathing is all I need” his voice goes soft again.

You take his his hand in yours. Watching your fingers intertwine. “You won’t loose me. And I am planning on being alive for a long time” squeezing his hand gently “ Besides I sort of need to be alive to go on our date.

Kyle looks at you surprised. “You- You remember?”

You give him a smile “what? You backing out on me? And here I was looking forward to it”

His smile appears as he chuckles, shaking his head, stepping closer to you cupping his hands on your face. “No, I would never dream of it, love”

You smile up at him relaxing into his touch “good because you’re stuck with me”

His thumb rubs your cheek “till forever and more”

[dr-futbol-blog]

Runner, Pt. 9

While McKay hits the target he intended, never having meant to actually injure Ford, all he manages to do is to piss him off. And as soon as he sees Ford's face, he takes off at a run, not even thinking about taking another shot at somewhere he wouldn't be able to walk away from. Sheppard had taken losing Ford very hard, so taking Ford out was never an option for him. But McKay knows he's in trouble now. He poked a grizzly.

Even though McKay must be exhausted, having traversed difficult terrain all day with no food and drink, his survival instinct seems to give him a second wind. And it's noticeable that McKay actually manages to outrun Ford. In spite of his enhanced physical condition, Ford never catches up to him. This probably means that the enzyme is losing its effect on him, or that due to thinking the enzyme is all that he needs, he has been neglecting things like sustenance and rest for a while now. Instead of making him superhuman, it is consuming him.

As he's running through the trees and bushes, McKay decides to empty his clip into the air to alert anyone at all that might be able to help him, and this is when Sheppard hears gunshots coming out of the woods. He takes off at a run, immediately. The thing is, he probably can tell from the gunfire that this is McKay. McKay is emptying a handgun in rapid fire into the air where his men are sporting P-90s. It's possible this is even something that Sheppard has instructed McKay to do in an emergency (he fires once, and then four times in succession), but certainly for a career soldier the sound is recognizable, and it tells him that McKay has to be in some kind of trouble.

Between sending his men to look for McKay and just having told Teyla and Beckett he would now join them in the search, McKay has been on his mind. And this isn't worry for his science officer, for his team mate, or even a friend. Sheppard takes off without saying another word to Beckett and Teyla. He was in the middle of giving them instructions, but as soon as he hears the gunfire, they don't exist for him anymore. His world narrows to the size of McKay and he has to find him.

And McKay is trying to make finding him easy. He probably realizes there's no use in trying to hide from Ford, so he's trying to make as much sound as possible to draw attention to his whereabouts. He's screaming for help, and again this is played out for comedy. A grown man, crying for help as he's chased through the dark woods by a crazed mutant soldier--hilarious. Especially the way he screams like a woman as he runs out of bullets.

But McKay knows he's not a match for Ford. He wasn't a match for Ford back when he was still a regular GI Joe. He also knows that there are people around who both can protect him and whose job it is to do so. Despite not caring whether he lives or dies back when he was dissociating, it is very clear here that McKay does not have a death wish. And even though he doesn't know what has happened to Sheppard, whether he's in some kind of trouble or if they've already found their way back to the jumper as he wishfully thought earlier, he is screaming for Sheppard here. This is not a general cry for help, even though he would take all the help he can get. The thing is, if McKay has learned something about himself, it's that he wants to spend his final moment with Sheppard. If he is going to die in these woods, he really needs to find Sheppard.

Everything seems to come to a head as the wraith fly three darts through the gate, probably both looking for Ronon and wanting to find out why one of their own has gone missing on this planet. Major Lorne radios the information to Sheppard, and it's notable that his reaction ("Great") is the same here as it was when Lorne told him he'd lost McKay.

Sheppard had been expecting for the wraith to come sooner or later but the thing that's interesting here is that he seems to have no plan, no strategy, no orders or instructions to give to his men. He receives the message from Lorne and he doesn't even slow down. Knowledge that the darts have come through the gate doesn't change his current mission, finding McKay. If anything, he just needs to find him that much faster.

He continues running full speed toward where the gunfire had sounded and had now fallen quiet. Even when Teyla contacts him to let him know that Ronon has escaped, he merely tells them to get back to the jumper, seeming not to spare a single thought for the tall, dark and stranger. He barely seems to register what Teyla is actually telling him, his response to her is basically "Not now!" He doesn't actually respond to what she says, he merely gives her an order and he gives the order in a tone of voice that lets her know not to bother him with this right now. He currently doesn't have the bandwidth to deal with all of that.

Deep in the woods, McKay seems to have managed to keep his distance to Ford, he has been running very fast in his rubber radiation suit, and he probably could have made it to the jumper before Ford but, as it happens, he runs directly into a trap. It's a simple snare trap likely put up by Ronon, to be used against the wraith.

McKay is flung high up into the air, hanging from a tree by his foot, helpless as a trapped animal. It has to be quite painful but the fact that he, once more, shows very few signs of pain may well be a sign of dissociation. If anything, he's pissed off.

McKay has reached the limit of how much he can take, and it seem as though there is nothing he can do as Ford catches up to him now. What's interesting is that both Sheppard and McKay find themselves helpless and incapacitated, tied up by Ronon's rope in this episode. And like Sheppard, McKay does attempt to talk himself out of this even though from the time he has spent with Ford in the woods recently has taught him that the man is well beyond being reasoned with.

McKay is trying to sound calm and collected, trying to think his way out of this even when he is quite literally at the end of his rope.

Ford: Well, look at you! McKay: Yes, look at me! It's funny, huh? You set this up? It's clever. Ford: It wasn't me. McKay: No, huh? Well, I'm glad we could both still laugh about this together. How about cutting me down now? Ford: No. I think I'm still gonna kill you. McKay: What?! What do you mean, ‘still'?! When did this escalate to killing?! Ford: When you shot me.

Now, Ford clearly thinks that McKay was trying to kill him. The enzyme is making him paranoid. But what McKay tells him is true: he intended to just slow him down and had no intention of killing him.

It's interesting that McKay makes a second reference to escalation here. He's the one that escalated things to physical violence. Given that McKay has clearly received some weapons training, likely from Sheppard, he probably has also explained to him the continuum of force use and levels of conflict escalation. But escalation isn't limited to the use of physical force. Escalation is also necessary for the formation of intimate relationships. McKay's repeated question "When did this escalate?" is interesting in this regard. And the thing is, his relationship with Sheppard seemed to escalate in stages from the very beginning.

Regardless, Ford is so far gone that he is actually intending to kill McKay. At this stage, McKay isn't even trying to make noise as a strategy anymore, he is honestly crying out for dear life. And what's interesting, and not altogether insignificant, is that he's saved by Ronon. McKay is saved at the very last moment, Ford's gun already going off as Ronon tackles him down. Not knowing who this guy is, McKay can only helplessly hang from the tree and watch these two duke it out underneath him like Roman gladiators.

Ronon told Sheppard earlier, "You get this tracking device out of me, I'll get your friend back for you." At that point, he was referring to Ford as the 'friend'. He promised that if Sheppard can get the tracker out of him, he would get Ford back to him. And it might seem like he's keeping his promise, here. He had left the cave to look for Ford, and we can assume his plan was to deliver him to Sheppard. Only, even though he has every reason to believe that Ford is Sheppard's friend and is important to him, Ronon makes the choice to save McKay instead here. And the fact that he makes this choice is important, especially to Sheppard.

He doesn't know what McKay means to Sheppard, and since Ford is wearing the same fatigues as Sheppard and Teyla, he has every reason to believe them about this being their friend who is sick, and needs their help. And even then, he makes the choice to stop Ford from killing McKay. And he's not pulling his punches, either. He seems ready to take Ford out permanently if it comes down to that. They both seem ready to take the other out permanently.

Still running to find McKay, Sheppard hears the P-90 go off. It had been a while since he had heard the handgun go off and since he changes direction here and the sound of the handgun must have come pretty much from the same direction as the P-90 sound is coming from now, the fact that he changes direction here just means that it allowed him to get a better bearing on where it was coming from (he is notoriously bad at orienting himself on the ground). The look on his face is pure fear. The look on his face here is zero percent about Ford. For sure, they came on this planet looking for Ford, and he wants to take the young soldier back to Atlantis. But this look on his face, this fear, is for McKay. The only possible motivation for Sheppard to look like this is not knowing if McKay is alright, fearing his life is in danger. There is no other possible explanation for him to look like this.

When Sheppard arrives on the scene, he sees McKay hanging from a tree with Ford and Ronon fighting apparently to the death underneath him, and he knows the gunshots he had heard earlier had not come from this stranger with a space blaster. He very quickly seems to reach the conclusion that it was Ronon, the man whose life they had just basically saved, that was trying to protect McKay's life here. Ford had tried to kill McKay, had posed a danger to him.

And although it is the last thing he wants, however much he hoped Caldwell had been wrong about this, Sheppard does seem ready to take Ford out. Where McKay had only wanted to wound Ford, Sheppard very much seems to be ready to do what ever it takes. The whole scene that is here before him tells him more than he wants to know about the condition Ford is in. And we see here that if he was forced to make a choice between McKay and Ford, the choice would not be difficult for him. He seems quite ready to take out anyone that poses a threat to McKay.

As Sheppard is momentarily distracted by the wraith darts flying overhead, Ford takes off at a run. And it's interesting that Sheppard takes after him, with not a word to either McKay or Ronon, not acknowledging either of them in any way. He doesn't care about McKay and he's obsessed with catching Ford, right? But the thing is, Sheppard is fairly certain Ronon isn't dangerous to innocent people. He was a former soldier that had been trying to survive the wraith, not psychokiller. Like he'd told Beckett, while he probably was dangerous and could have killed McKay in the blink of an eye, he was fairly certain that he wouldn't, having no motivation for it.

But at the same time, he does what he often does when there are hostiles around, he pretends McKay means nothing to him. All around McKay is more safe if Ronon never realizes how much the man hanging from the tree means to him, lest he take McKay hostage to get through the gate, which he knows is Ronon's plan. It's better if this stranger thinks that Ford is his main motivation and the man in the tree is inconsequential to him, especially since he has no time to stop and make sure that he's safe, he has to take out the clear and present danger first. He has to get all of them out of this planet as quickly as possible, which means taking Ford down first.

But he does hesitate for a moment. His eyes go up to the darts in the sky, stop on McKay for a moment on their way down back to Ford, and for a split second he hesitates before he takes after Ford. For a split second his mind is on McKay, and Ford manages to use this moment to escape. That brief moment between the darts and Ford that his mind is on McKay is everything here.

Sheppard catches up with Ford, and he seems increasingly desperate. He had lost all control of this situation, he had precious little authority to project for trying to reach the young soldier. Sheppard stops at the edge of the forest, not wanting to go further out into the open lest he get caught up by the darts sweeping the terrain.

Sheppard doesn't know what had happened between McKay and Ford earlier, how McKay had been in a similar position trying to decide how to deal with Ford. The difference is that Ford didn't believe McKay had it in him to take the shot whereas he knows perfectly well that Sheppard is capable of it. While neither wants it, both are ready to take the other's life here.

Yes, Sheppard's heart seems to be breaking here, as he is forced to take a shot at Ford, he's forced to make the hard decision of whether to take him out permanently or to let him go his own way. He trained this young man, he cared about him. Sheppard's eyes are teared up here, this is not an easy decision for him to make.

But it's not just Ford. Ford symbolizes everything Sheppard had in his life before the wraith siege. He had his team, his family, his home on Atlantis. They had each others' backs, they took care of each other. For a moment, he had let himself be happy. Even with the impending attack, or perhaps because of it, he had been alive in a way he had never been before. He had been in love, and he had been loved by many different people, in many different ways. And even though he knew it was a bad idea, he had allowed himself to love. He had loved Ford, like the son he never had, or like a little brother. He had considered Ford family. And like he always did, he ended up destroying what he loved.

Up until this moment, he had allowed himself to believe that if only he could bring Ford back, everything might go back to normal. The four of them would be a team, they would explore alien planets in another galaxy for technologies and marvels undreamt of by man, and they would built their home together on Atlantis.

He would share his bed and his life with McKay, and everything would be like it had been before. McKay would still look at him the way he had before. Would still touch him like he used to. They would still speak in all the different ways they had discovered between them, with mouths, and their bodies, and their eyes, and their words, in whispered tones and breathed syllables, the way their bodies were angled toward one another. They would work together, they would protect each other and keep one another safe. If only he could make Ford understand. If only he could bring Ford back home.

Sheppard and McKay both take a shot at Ford, but they have different strategies. McKay feels threatened by Ford, so he clips the hand that is holding the weapon, wanting to keep Ford from harming him. Sheppard clips him in the leg because he wants to keep Ford from walking out on him, and actually leaves Ford's hand free to point a gun at him. People walking out on him, whether by choice because they just don't want to be with him, or through death, is Sheppard major malfunction. It's what hurts him the most, so he wants to stop Ford from being able to do this. To Sheppard, being walked out on seems to be worse than death.

Rather than to let him make his own decisions about his own life, Sheppard feels like he knows better than Ford does what's good for him, and so takes it upon himself to make the decision. And this has very little to do with the chain of command, or Ford disobeying his direct order because he would really be a hypocrite if claimed that meant anything to him. But it was about loyalty, and it was about love, and it was about not wanting to lose things that mattered to him.

Sheppard blinks here, as he looks up at the dart flying away with Ford. He is clearly holding back tears. The last time he had watched Ford walk (fly) away from him through the gate, he had been livid. He had felt betrayed. But now, he felt abandoned. He felt alone. Despite everything he had done, however hard he had tried, things just kept falling apart. And for sure he deserved it. He had even left the most important thing in his life hanging from a tree trying to hold on to the last threads of when they had been happy.

But also notice this: he looks up at the sky where the dart had been, and where Ford had been taken. He seems utterly lost, for a moment. But then, his head turns and he looks back at the direction he came from. Immediately after reaching the conclusion there was nothing he could do here, his mind and body were drawn back to where he had come from, where he had taken off at a run after Ford.

Because as much as he had lost, as adrift as he was, McKay was still alive. He had left something behind that he needed to retrieve.

Continued in Pt. 10

[choicesficwriterscreations]

November Creator of the Month: Lizzybeth1986

Each month CFWC highlights one of our talented fanfic writers, and this month’s writer of the month is @lizzybeth1986 We hope you will enjoy learning more about them and their work below! The writer is selected at random. More info can be found on the navigation page.

Quick Links:

Tumblr Blog: Blog Masterlist

How do you want to be known on Tumblr?

Lizzy, absolutely 😁

*Center art by @sazanes

More below...

When did you start playing Choices? What was the first book you played?

I started playing mid 2017, I think. I played the flagship books (TF, TCaTF, MW), and def preferred TF at the time.

When and why did you join Choices fandom?

I joined the Tumblr fandom in 2017, around the time of the TRR finale. Mostly because the Liam hate at the time was intense and I wanted to write metas about why Liam was, in fact, not “a dick who betrayed the MC” 😂

I did have a Tumblr account before that (made it in 2015 to follow Bollywood film posts), but never actually used it.

How did you pick your blog name?

I was lazy af so it was my middle name plus my birth year haha

Pull up the first post in your archive, and tell us about it! 

I started out with a couple reblogs, but my first actual post was about the romance points mechanism in TRR1. There was a point in the middle of the book where one nice word to Drake would give you an automatic romance point, and I was like, “Huh??? Either treat him like shit or risk him catching feels for me? Is that how it is???”. Thankfully, that stopped after two chapters. After that, I did an essay series analyzing Liam’s actions in the finale called “The Crown, The King and The Flame.” Romance Points Post The Crown and the Flame

How long have you been writing fanfiction?

Almost 6 years now! I started doing Liam fics around the beginning of TRR2.

What is your favorite Choices book, and what is your favorite Choices book to write about?

I’m the most invested in TRR and PM, but between the two I’d probably say PM is my fave book overall. But yeah, my favourite book to write about would be TRR, because Liam, Hana and Kiara are such fantastic characters to write about! (Hayden and Sloane, too, but I’m still in the process of getting comfortable writing them).

Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it, or would you change it if you were writing it today?

It was Keychains, my two part fic series featuring my MC and Liam. It was set around the time the MC was waiting in the airport in TRR2, just before Maxwell and Bertrand intervene. It had a follow up with Liam’s PoV too.

I really like it. It included some really good hc’s I made at the time, like Esther buying an apple keychain to represent Cordonia at the same time, and Liam calling her his wife in Greek and Esther not realizing what the phrase meant. I thought the pathos and slight humour was quite well-done. I can’t think of much I would want to change in the story.

Keychains 1 Keychains 2

What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

As a series – Eleanor’s Kitchen! It’s ongoing, and it’s a joy to write. I love exploring food from a cultural lens, and since Cordonia was a fictional country, I could explore a variety of ethnicities and food cultures. Liam had a literal diamond scene that explored gastrodiplomacy, and I wanted to explore his childhood and Eleanor’s friendships too.

Individually – I would say my Kiara fic “An Ear to the Ground”. Kiara is a delightful character and exploring the social season through her eyes was a real journey! I also love “The Stars (Are Out Tonight)” which explores the early days of the Sloane & Hayden friendship. I used asterisms and constellations to symbolize moments in their friendship.

Eleanor's Kitchen An Ear to the Ground The Stars (Are Out Tonight)

Do you have a fic that you didn’t expect to be well received, but it was? What about one you expected to be but found could use a little more love?

Cordonian Waltz was definitely a surprise in terms of reception!! It was written in the style of headcanons I was seeing at the time, and I wrote it in second person. It became my most widely-read fanfic very fast, and every once in a while it would experience a major surge in readership. I enjoyed writing it and thought it was a lovely, romantic piece, but I really wasn’t expecting it to finally have 250+ reblogs out of it, and people coming and telling me this was the fic that got them into Liam x MC in the first place. I find that deeply gratifying 😍

There’s a lot of fics that I feel need more engagement and appreciation, but I can understand that those characters also don’t exactly get much of an audience. My entire PM set comes under this category; they typically get low readership. I think my Hana and Kiara fics too could do with more of an audience.

@twinkleallnight once told me that when she reads my stuff, she usually takes a long time just to ruminate on the story, and I like to believe that often, that’s why the engagement isn’t always immediate. Which I like too!! I like that some of my stuff can make people stop and think, and I like to believe that over time, the work will have its own impact.

Cordonian Waltz PM Set

If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Probably fluff but with a lot of observation and sometimes somber reflections. I’m not that great with angst…and I’ve never actually tried smut? But maybe one day 😄

Do you ever recognize yourself in any of your MCs or in your writing?

Yes! Some of my MCs are v different from me but I always incorporate something from my life experiences in them. Like Esther taking photos of the sunset or Basil not being science oriented but still having an interest in space.

Character wise I find I put a lot of myself into a lot of the characters I write. Notably, Liam, Hana, Kiara, certain Haydens and Sloane. Liam’s love for learning, different aspects of Hana and Kiara’s experiences as queer women, Sloane’s experiences as a neurodivergent woman, and especially my Scholar!Hayden’s (Iris) observations. I tend to incorporate a lot of my feelings and experiences more into certain canonical characters than in MCs.

What element of writing do you struggle with most?

Dialogue, I think. Especially when it’s a character I don’t relate to that much. But also sometimes when it’s a character I love but am only starting to write because then I really overthink it!

Do you have any neglected work you really want to finish?

Hmm…probably neglected wouldn’t be the word I’d use…I just take a very long time to kickstart them 😂

But yeah, definitely my Petals and Thornes series? That’s the fic series I’m doing for Hana x Kiara, that is supposed to explore TRR2 and 3 from their PoV (with significant changes). So far I’ve only been able to do some one-shots and hcs in that universe, but I do want to start the actual series soon!

I have some essay series’ I’d love to work on too! My Hana essay series which has two essays left, The Hayden Young Project, and a possible series on the alternative Lis of TRR!

Petals and Thornes Hana Lee: A Study in Erasure

If someone you know in real life (who isn’t involved in fandoms) asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

Hmm. A few people have asked me, actually, and while I’m not fully opposed to showing them I’ll probably take some time before I do show my work. I’ll probably overthink how much will be understandable to a reader who doesn’t have the context of the source, and what they may not understand.

What to show them first? I’m not sure! Maybe the smaller ones first, like Cordonian Waltz. Or my RCD fic Snowstorms, because it doesn’t have more than 2-3 canon characters featuring and I do talk a little about being a closeted queer teen figuring out their sexuality through cinema, which is an overall relatable experience to some! Snowstorms

Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

In my early years I used to emulate Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s style. Much of her work that I read as a teen was pretty flowery, sometimes bordering on purple prose, and I really loved that style and tried to go that way. But now I think a variety of writers from different genres inform my writing. In terms of published authors, Jhumpa Lahiri, Helen Hoang, and non-fiction ones like Rukmini Pande, Ruby Hammad and Mikki Kendall.

In Choices fic, @callmetippytumbles for sure – a lot of the questions she was tackling with her MC in her Home series served as inspiration for some of the ideas I’ve been having in mind for Petals and Thornes. @thefirstcourtesan is a great writing buddy to have, too, and she has a knack for saying a lot in very few words! There’s also my amazing group of friends (shoutout to @cassiopeiacorvus, @thecapturedafrique, @mand-delemonde, and @beyonceswigs, as well as @twinkleallnight , @dcbbw @mariemarieohcontrary , @choicesfrog, @grapecaseschoices and @ohsnapitzlovehacker…the discussions are so good and leave some much to think about afterward 💖💖). All these discussions ALWAYS fuel my ideas and make me think out of the box.

I’ve also recently started writing polyamorous characters and relationships, and @angelasscribbles stories and resources have been such a great help in navigating that!

Home

@angelasscribbles Poly Resources

Which one of your stories would you most like to see as a movie/series?

Haha! I’ve not even started the proper series yet but I think Petals and Thornes? But besides that maybe Eleanor’s Kitchen may work as a series idk 😄

Do you write original fiction?

I do try! I’ve done a few short stories but before I started fanfic, I did a lot of spoken word poetry and that was fun.

What other hobbies do you have?

Reading, watching video essays, spending months on hyperfixations 😂 and a little cooking. My kid’s gotten into craft recently and has succeeded in taking me down that rabbit hole too haha.

I used to be into making fruit wines but have gotten inconsistent with that over the years.

What’s your favorite emoji?

Because I have a huuuge thing for nerds – this one: 🤓

BONUS – tell us anything you’d like (if you want to).

A story my mum often tells about how I got into writing, began with some good old-fashioned sibling rivalry. Apparently as a child I was notorious for writing things on the walls of our house. One day my older brother got a hardbound royal-blue covered notebook to write in, with gold lettering on the cover…and I got instantly jealous that I didn’t get one (I was 6 or 7 and already fond of telling stories). When I complained my mum made me a deal – she would get me the same notebook…IF I stopped writing on the walls and began writing in that instead 😂 It worked. My mother is a smart woman.

I love spoilers!! I will read the end of a novel I’m reading and then go back and read the rest. Sometimes I even read books all the way backwards lol.

I love romance, and my favorite tropes include second-chance romance and mutual pining while believing the other person will never love you back! Because, at heart, I’m a dramatic bitch.

[noemitenshi]

I can’t really get my head around what Troy would be like in a relationship, the man loves to push boundaries yet seems to get obsessive about people and want to please them 🤔 what do you think?

Oh what a fun (but also difficult) question to answer haha. As I've written over 500k words of Troy in relationships I've put quite some thought into it and I'm not too sure I can distill all of that. Or, well, I'm sure I'll forget to mention things ^^0 But I'll give it my very best!

The most crucial part I think, about Troy's behavior in a relationship is that it is very much dependent on his partner(s). He will let himself be molded, even if the partner doesn't intend to, you know, do that. Like, if the partner likes to be pushed around (😉) he's gonna do that gleefully. If the partner likes to push him around (all in good fun though. I mean, I think he'd also let himself be pushed around NOT in good fun but let's not go there for our peace of mind), he's gonna fold and be into it. So in a sense he'll always follow his partner's lead (no matter if the partner is more dominant or submissive leaning (and those terms don't necessarily need to describe Dominants and Submissives…)).

Furthermore I do think, once he realizes (or is made to realize - mayhaps by a frantic kiss) he is in love, he'll be all in. I think I said this once before (and I'll probably say it again) but Troy seems like the type to move incredible fast to deepen a relationship. It probably stems from the emotional abuse and neglect he has suffered his whole life - so once someone gives him even a smidgen of that he's gonna be addicted to it. He's not gonna let go of that and do anything to get more of it, frankly. Maybe there's even a time, in the beginning of the romantic relationship, where he is kinda playing pretend. See, he could never be what his parents and his brother wanted him to be (mostly bc his parents were abusive drunks and because his brother doesn't understand him and the black sheep position the family put Troy in, instead reinforces it), so he always felt like he was coming up short, like he didn't have the ability to do things right. And probably doubly so the first time he finds himself in a romantic relationship. So he's gonna act in a way he thinks people act when in such a relationship. Probably ignoring his own boundaries in the process and I really do hope his partner knows him well enough to get that something is wrong and ask him about it otherwise that one could end badly (=turn easily into a toxic relationship).

Now I seem to have written quite a bit about the wants to please people part of your ask haha (you see, I agree, he does want to do that, badly. Needs to, I'd argue, even) but not so much about the pushing people (I have a whole seperate post about that btw, maybe give that a look to, HERE). So, the post in short. With all people he interacts he likes to push boundaries to a) get to know them better, get to know what sets them off (since he's always lived in a VERY unstable environment with both his parents being erratic and abusive due to drunkenness) additionally, this gives him a sense of control (b)) - he controls when they get angry. That's what his pushing is about. I assume that if someone enters a romantic relationship with Troy they already have found a way to handle that part of him. And honestly, I think the best way to handle this is to show him respect. Like, sure, call him out on that, don't let him bullshit you but not meanly (=not like Jake). And even beyond the whole pushing thing, I think if Troy is treated with respect, generally speaking, this antagonistic nature in him receeds. He doesn't feel like he needs to be on guard the whole time so there's no need to set people off haha. Or not as much. Mostly in a teasing way (I think he doesn't ever lose it completely, but it changes its meaning, the pushing boundaries. I think he'll learn AND respect which boundaries are, you know, actual boundaries he shouldnt touch and which ones he can poke a little uh fun at).

So, I think a romantic relationship has the potential to be VERY GOOD for Troy (the same btw is true for a HEALTHY platonic one - which we also didn't see him having thus far. He just needs for someone to take his pain and rage and himself serious and be kind and respectful to him. Don't think ANYONE has ever done that, sadly enough). It has potential to allow him to grow into himself and become more confident in the type of person he is. And it naturally would curb this need for erratic behavior. HOWEVER a romantic relationship could also lead to Troy kinda losing himself in it. He's very emotionally vulnerable as we see in his relationship with Madison in s3 (and also lack of meaningful and reciprocal(!) relationships with anyone else) so it would be relatively easy for him to end up in a toxic relationship.

No matter what, I think Troy is gonna be fiercly loyal, protective and affectionate in such a relationship. Needy, I like to call him too since he's been touch- and attention-starved all his life. So my advice to potential suitors would be HANDLE WITH CARE.

I hope I answered your question to your satisfaction. If there is something I missed or something you'd like me to expand on, just shoot me another ask :) Thanks for the ask and have a great day 🧡