#i hope we get to hear from needles again in the future

[kristsune]

So while listening to Episode 6's case, I remembered that during the early premiere stream Jonny and Alex talked about Needles a bit. So I figured I'd put them together to make a nice little intro for Needles because I fell in love with him immediately.

[moodymisty]

Heya Misty! Your blog has cheered me up so many times since I found it last year. Genuinely, thank you for everything you share with us. Its always a ton of fun here! If I'm not too late for requests, could I request some pred/prey smut with Leman? Wolfdaddy can always use more love :) and I hope the future has nothing but blessings in store for you xx

Author's note: BARK BARK

Relationships: Leman Russ/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Predator/Prey play, Oral (female receiving), Very light breeding kink

The tree branches scratch at your skin through your clothes, boots trampling through the deep snow. It's up to your mid calves- considered a light amount of snow on Fenris. You can feel your own hot breath fan across your face as you run through it, stumbling through the woods with no sense of direction.

Russ had given you a few hour head start, with the implication that you wouldn't even last till nightfall. You hadn't disagreed with him, though there was a sudden blossoming of pride in you that wanted to prove him wrong.

But the sun is starting to set, the sky is turning purple and orange; That sense of pride is now replaced with fear, you have a feeling he's toying with you.

You keep hearing leaves rustling and branches breaking without a trace of why, but always from a particular direction.

You know he's toying with you.

For just a moment you dare to try to stop and catch your breath, feeling your heart beat against your ribs. Your body feels hot in your clothes despite the temperature, though taking them off would be suicide in this icy chill.

A terrifyingly loud crunch has you taking your hands off your knees and putting your head on a swivel like a rabbit, taking off again through the thick snow trying to make any sort of distance- before realizing that it isn't an option.

Through the last few trees you can see the edge of the cliff, dropping down hundreds of feet into nothingness. Your throat burns in pain, each heavy breath is like knives against it's dry flesh as you stare into the abyss.

Russ herded you here- he's trying to trap you and succeeding.

"I can smell you, little wolf."

The deep rumble of his voice echoes through the trees, and you don't bother to look around before running. The snot in your nose is frozen and you can feel snowflakes against your skin, the cloth of your clothing dragging in the snow.

"You want to get bred. Once I catch you, I will."

There's absolutely nowhere to hide out here- The only foliage is the trees and even if you had the strength to climb them, you would only trap yourself for him. The instinctual want to get higher is a thing you have to fight within yourself to keep moving.

Not that he would complain if you trapped yourself; You're sure he's being lackadaisical on purpose to draw this out, to try and simulate a hunt that would actually require some effort.

"You make such good prey,"

Russ' revert back to baser, wolf taught instincts has him overjoyed at the struggling of what to him is a small animal, one who's heart is about ready to explode.

"I wonder if you could ever last the night out here."

You suddenly stumble over in the snow, the cold ice stinging your palms like needles. Through the cloud of your own breath you try and get to your feet and keep moving along the edge of the cliff to somewhere else- anywhere else, but you end up just stumbling over again as your body begins to give in.

You feel the ground rumble beneath your hands and knees and instantly your heart begins to race, the prey instinct of being injured and exposed.

"I can smell you're bleeding,"

He says, emerging from between the trees. You quickly try and scamper to your feet, only to fall right over again into the snow. A scream catches in your throat as the thought of fleeing overtakes you.

Russ however simply laughs at the struggling of his prey and quickly moves in to snatch you up, tying you wrists together as you try to escape from him.

"Let us get this bounty back to the Great Hall then, shall we."

You scream as he throws you over his shoulder, gripping you by the thigh and trudging through the snow leagues easier than you could.

There's no motion you could possibly make to free yourself from him now, and your heart finally begins to slow down once your mind catches up with the fact that this play hunt is over.

It's terrifying how a change in context can turn him into an absolute horror; And you know he's only playing.

Despite it being so easy however Russ seemed to very well enjoy it, bursting back into the blooming warmth of the Great Hall boots thundering on the ground. He tracks in snow from his boots, it crumbling to dust all over the floor and making a mess of the rugs.

"Ahh, father!"

One of the wolves guarding the hall speaks up with a pep in his voice and a warm flush to his cheeks from the chill outside.

"You finally got your prize I see!"

Embarrassment blooms on your face in a sudden explosion when you realize that Russ apparently not only told his sons about this little game, but more likely bragged about what his prize was going to be.

Russ lets out a chuckle from deep within his chest you feel vibrate in your gut, nodding at his astartes.

"Tell Bjorn he's in charge until the morn, I won't be interrupted unless it is urgent."

The wolf nods back, and watches Russ leave in the direction of his bedchambers. You are able to watch the wolf as he departs, giving you a keen look before leaving himself to presumably tell Bjorn of his temporary duties.

The entire time Russ has quite the firm hold on your thighs and ass, taking the fruit of his hunt right to his den. Once he gets there you're thrown onto the massive bed covered in pelts with little fanfare, hands still tied.

For a moment, the way Russ looks down on you is with that same predatory stare you saw out in the woods, and your heart begins to pick up pace as he approaches and hefts his weight onto the bed.

"You're taking this far more seriously than I-!" He suddenly pushes you around on the massive bed, wrapping the fabric around your wrists to connect you to part of the headboard. "Than I expected!"

Russ gives you a large, fang filled smirk.

"What, do I seem the type to half ass things?"

He doesn't quite care about your response, only about the way you squeak when he grabs hold of your clothes and rips them off of you bit by bit, the fabric scattered about. The snow you had also tracked in on your clothes dusts around the bed, some of it getting on your bare skin and making a shiver run up your body.

Your breath comes out of your throat shaking and ragged as he presses his face to your lower stomach, laughing as he grips your thighs. You can feel him intake a good breath of air as his beard digs into your skin.

"You smell even better than usual- should do this more often."

You don't know how you feel about that; You're so tired from all the running that your muscles are screaming in pain; You don't think you have the strength to do much more than lie here and simply let him have his way with you. Not that he will complain about enjoying his prize in such a way.

His mouth drifts lower, large hands pushing your thighs apart and back. You let out a soft noise in your throat.

He then presses his face between your thighs, mouth covering your cunt. He listens to the way you suddenly squeal and kick your legs, hands still locked above your head. You writhe underneath him with no way to even grab something to ground yourself, your whines echoing in the massive, high ceiling room.

The course, rough hair of his beard scratches against the skin of your thighs and outer lips, surely leaving you with hot, scuffed skin that will burn for days after. Russ finds it amusing, and will sometimes after he's done and sees the raw flesh will lick and kiss at it- listening to you try and whimper at him to stop.

You feel the deep groan he lets out rumble against your core, tongue brushing over your clit. Your thighs are tight trying to close around his head but he doesn't let them, pressing them back and far apart. He closes his lips around your clit and sucks listening to you squeal and writhe underneath him, before pulling away and laughing at the way your hips try to follow.

He drags his jaw against your leg scratching the soft skin with his beard. He can't resist giving it a quick bite also, leaving dents in the soft fat at the apex of your inner thigh.

He returns his mouth to your cunt and continues, feeling his sharp fangs occasionally catch at your skin. He may never be the most coordinated, but he makes up for it with an enthusiasm that has tears in the corners of your eyes; Spit mixing with the juices that leak from you neverending.

"R-Russ,"

Your stomach tenses almost painfully as he continues to lap at you, one hand leaving it's grip on your thighs to slip a finger past your entrance. You gasp and tighten around him, feeling the way his thick digit slips deep inside of you. It feels like he's trying to push up through your lower stomach with how deep his is, brushing deep towards your cervix.

Your one thigh pressing against his head now free, he slips a second finger inside of you and listens to you keen and writhe at the stretch. He chuckles, tongue dancing over your folds and overwhelming you until your stomach feels like it hurts so much it's going to explode; Clit throbbing underneath his tongue.

Your throat is raw from running for so long in the cold but this only makes it worse, letting out a ragged, shaking dry moan as you body goes limp and you cum on his fingers.

He continues for just a bit longer feeling the way you whimper at the overstimulation, milking every last bit out of you until there's nothing left.

Left panting and totally limp you feel his fingers leave your cunt, grimacing at the way they stretch you wider as they pull out. His mouth leaves and he wipes your juices, though it mostly smears them over his beard then actually cleaning himself.

Out of breath and limp you look up at him with wide eyes, watching as he starts to undress himself.

"Can you untie me first?"

You plead to him, watching as he undoes the top half of his clothes. You see his lower stomach, the trail of hair that leads down below his waistline and beneath his trousers.

"No. I quite like when my prey is tied up."

[sinfulslytherin]

A Quiet Night

Summary: The Students of Hogwarts have to spend the night in the great hall. You sleep between Draco and your boyfriend, who seems to be more busy with Daphne. And Draco seems to be more interested in you...

Trigger warning: mature content, sexual content, degrading, public sexual activities

Graham,Blaise,Pansy,Daphne,Adrian, Draco and I stand infront of 7 sleeping.

Pansy and Blaise obviously sleep next to each other since they are in a relationship. Daphne instantly jumps onto the sleeping bag on the other side of Pansy in order to sleep next to her. The two if them seem to be reqlly good friends now.

Graham obviously wants to sleep next to Daphne.

Since Adrian sleeps in the sleeping bag next to Blaise, my only option is to sleep between Graham and Draco.

Graham doesn't seem to bother that blondie will sleep only a few inches away from me. Probably because he is busy with Daphne.

We lay down and the lights get dimmer and dimmer until the room is full of darkness. The only weak light that we get is the moon light that shines through the huge windows of the great hall.

I can hear Graham and Daphne chat for a long time. They talk about Quidditch,classes and even past relationships.

At least he didn't talk about me.

I already know that I won't be able to sleep.

It gets completly quiet after some time and I feel like everyone is asleep.

I can't hear Daphnes annoying voice anymore. I can't hear anyones voice. It seems peaceful.

I suddenly feel Graham lean over to me.

I take back the 'peaceful' part.

"I need you...please..." He whispers in my ear as he starts to leave light kisses on my neck. The kisses feel like small needles that poke into my skin.

I know he's probably horny because he is next to Daphne.

"But-" I try to talk my way out but it's no use.

"Amara, now. Please." He begs.

I don't know why but I follow his plead.

Probably because I hope that I'll be able to eat properly tomorrow.

My hand wanders down between his legs.

My hand squeezes his already hard member and I can feel him twitch in my hand.

I turn off my thoughts and just concentrate on the movement of my hand.

I don't even have to pray for a quick finish as I can feel him already being close.

He pushes my hand away and I see that he uses some napkins to prevent a mess.

Well. That was fast.

Graham was never the best in bed. He looks out for himself and doesn't bother to help the other one finish.

"Thank you, Da-

Amara." Graham mumbles already half asleep as he gives me a half hearted kiss on my forehead.

I internally scoff.

He seriously just wanted to call me Daphne.

I know who you pretend I am, Graham.

I hear snoring next to me and know that Graham is definitly asleep now.

I chuckle bitterly and ignore the few small tears that build up in my eyes. I know he doesn't love me but it's hard to unlove someone when they gave you your first time...even when it sucked.

He saw me in such a vunerable state.

It's hard to realize that I won't experience something real with someone else because Graham has my hands tied. He's my future.

I probably would've declined but he could have at least asked if I want to...too.

"Didn't even try to return the favor. Asshole." I quietyly curse under my breath.

I decide that I should try to sleep as well.

♤•♤•♤•♤•♤•♤•♤•♤•♤•♤•♤•♤

It's hard for me to fall asleep and the only thing that I get is a weird state of being half asleep and half awake. I start to feel hot after one hour of trying to sleep so I jump out of the sleeping bag and ly myself on it just like Draco and Graham did.

I feel myself getting more tired again and hope that I finally fall asleep.

Unfortunately, it's only a microsleep that washes over me.

I feel myself snuggle into someone or something as soon as I seem to regain my senses. I lay on my side and my hands lightly hold onto some fabric,

I think.

A smell of mint and cologne hits my noise as I snuggle even further into the unknown thing. I feel a hand on my head which strokes my hair lightly.

A light smile spreads across my lips.

I'd say that this feels like home.

But unlike home,

This feeling actually makes me feel safe.

I stay like this for a few more minutes before I feel the urge to switch position.

I always sleep on my side, so I just turn around in my half asleep state and make sure that I still feel the presence of the unknown someone against my back in order to get comfort.

I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into a feeling of consolation, forgetting the war inside my head. I start to shift further backwards.

I suddenly hear a low groan as I do so.

I don't think much of it and try to find a comfortable sleeping position as I move my hips.

My movement stops as I feel a hand grab my hip in order to prevent me from moving.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, Caddel?"

My breath hitches and I feel the tiredness leave my body.

I was just snuggling into Draco Malfoy.

I was just rubbing my ass against

Draco

Malfoy.

I try to push myself away from him as I accidentally touch his clothed dick with my hand.

He groans again.

"Don't touch my dick unless you plan on doing something with it."

I gasp as I remove my hand in a swift movement and freeze on the spot.

"Seems like your body is frustrated, huh?" Draco asks as he whispers in my ear.

"What do you mean?" I ask while I try to sound not too nervous.

"You know what I mean. Do you seriously think I didn't hear everything?"

Draco asks.

I feel my cheeks burn up as I realize that Malfoy must have witnessed the whole situation with Graham.

Not only the handjob I gave him,

but also my cursing about him not making me cum.

My last three working braincells decide to ignore him and move back over to my sleeping bag.

My body moves over in a swift motion and my back still faces Draco.

I shut my eyes tightly and hope that he'll just go back to sleep.

But my hopes are shattered as I suddenly feel two hands grab my hips and pull me backwards.

My butt comes in contact with Dracos crotch and my eyes widen as I feel something hard against me.

My breath hitches.

"Are you trying to ignore me again?" He asks in a teasing voice as he pushes his hard member harder into my backside.

I feel myself falling into arousal as I start to rub my thighs together.

"Let me give you what he can't." Is the last thing he whispers before his hand slowly start to travel to my pants.

His lips touch my the skin behind my ear and he starts to lightly kiss it before he sucks on the skin. I can feel his hard member pressing against my butt as he does so. It gets harder to breath and I have to hold back moans.

I nervously look around as I panic that someone might see us.

Before entering my pants he asks if I want him to touch me.

I nod.

"Words. I need a verbal consent, Sweet girl." He says as his finger play with the waistband of my pyajama pants.

"Yes,please." I lightly moan.

I feel his hand wander between my thighs in a painful slow pace. I whine and start to squirm under his touch.

"Be patient."

His fingers lightly brush over my soaked panties and a chuckle escapes his lips.

"Already that wet for me?"

He slides my panties aside and his middle finger enters me. A moan escapes my lips.

"You gotta be quiet, little girl. What do you think would happen if Graham saw you like that?" Draco asks with a mocking tone.

He adds another finger, curves them and strokes my walls. I feel myself tighten around his long fingers.

He starts to thrust his fingers in and out

-hitting my spot everytime.

"You like that, don't you? Me touching you." Draco whispers in my ear as my eyes shut tightly, scared that a loud moan might escape my lips.

"Imagine what my cock could do." Draco says as he thrusts his fingers at an even faster pace.

Suddenly Graham starts to squirm in his sleep. I freeze and try to move away from Draco but he holds me in place.

His fingers are still moving inside me but in a slower pace.

"Scared that Graham might find out what a slut you are for me? How you melt under my touch?" Draco whispers.

"You are going to take it until you cum all over my fingers. I don't care if he wakes up." He says before moving his fingers hit my spot again.

A quiet whimper slips from my lips.

I look over to Graham to see him still fully asleep.

"Keep your eyes on me."

My eyes wander back to his.

"Good girl." He growls in my ear and sends butterflies to my stomach

...and pussy.

I clench around his fingers as I feel my orgasm approaching.

My breath hitches.

"I-Im gonna cum Draco..." i moan a bit louder as it gets harder and harder for me to keep quiet.

Dracos other hand finds my mouth and enters his fingers for me to suck on.

"That'll be my cock next time."

My eyes roll back as I suck on his fingers imagining how Dracos cock would taste like.

My orgasm rolls over me as I bite down on his fingers in order to reduce the urge of letting out a final loud moan.

Or so I thought it would be my final...

—————————————————————————————————

Ready for round two and some fluff afterwards?-Read the whole Chapter here <3

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - "Comeback"

Read Olympics AU "Beginnings" if you're new here.

AU summary: Paris 2024 Olympics. Gale is on the U.S. equestrian eventing team, Bucky is a U.S. gymnast, they meet on the plane to Paris, and a love story ensues.

Author's Note: This is probably not what @avonne-writes had in mind when asking for a massage scene (at least not the beginning), but I think it worked out anyways. We take a deeper dive into Bucky's story and what it took to make it to Paris, and Gale is a good boyfriend (Wait are they dating? Neither of them know)

---

The world loves a comeback story. 

They love to watch a star rise from the depths of a sport. And they also love to watch them fall. Like pulling out a bucket of popcorn to witness a train wreck – it gives them something to talk about. Something to lament. Something to circulate in newspapers and on morning shows and around social media for weeks. Something to sell headlines.

“A shame,” they say. “So much potential. Lost just like that.”

“He’ll make it through,” some say. “He’s strong. If anyone can do it, it’s him.”

“Impossible,” others say. “There’s no way. He’s done.”

They shake their heads. They send their thoughts and prayers, empty words. They say they’re wishing you a speedy recovery. And all the while they’re talking about what the future of the sport will look like without you in it. They write you off. Done. Over. Forgotten to time. 

Nothing but a name that once was met with such veneration.

But then, you set out to prove them wrong. Even when there’s only a small handful of people still holding out hope, even when those people are just glad you’re alive and couldn’t care less about your name, you put one foot in front of the other. You grit your teeth and pull every ounce of strength from the depths of your soul and pretend the world doesn’t matter. Pretend you can’t hear what they’re saying about you, about how disappointing it all is, about how there’s no coming back from a catastrophe like that — pretend you can’t hear those cynical, whispered words, even when they’re needling at your skin, trying to break through. 

And slowly, slowly, slowly, pretending the pain isn’t there, pretending your heart is stronger than you believe it is, pretending you never had a single doubt — slowly, you rise again. 

Like a phoenix from the ashes, except the ashes keep trying to pull you back down. 

Bucky kind of wishes the reporters would just shut the fuck up about his amazing comeback story. 

“U.S. gymnast John Egan seeking another Olympic medal less than two years after terrifying high bar accident,” the headlines say. 

“Incredible.” “Inspirational.” “Insane.” “Invincible.”

Those are the words people use when they talk about him. After the accident, he was “done for.” He was “hopeless.” They whispered his name and grieved his legacy. But now he’s “strong” and “unstoppable” and “relentless.” He’s back. And that’s the stuff a good story is made of.

“It’s hard to believe he’s made it this far,” they say. “It’s incredible that he’s able to do any of this right now. I can’t imagine how he does it.”

And it’s flattering, really. But he’s well aware of the unbeatable odds that he overcame to make it to Paris this year. He’s well aware of the courage and the strength and the determination that it took. He was there. He went through it. He’s the one that screamed in pain when the world shattered around him and cried his way through grueling physical therapy day after terrible day. He’s the one that nearly tore his sports psychologist’s head off when he couldn’t get past the mental blocks, couldn’t push through the fear. He was there. He remembers all of it in more detail than he wishes were possible. He remembers every gasp, every drop of sweat, every skill that he had to relearn, every landing that he prayed he’d stick. 

It’s all in his head, and he’s fought hard to keep his head on straight in spite of it. He doesn’t need it thrown in his face, too. 

But he’s learned to deal with it. He’s learned to smile to the reporters and answer their questions and move on. Because it’s part of him now, and he has to accept that. That’s the price he has to pay for living and breathing this sport that he loves.

–

It’s only the day after opening ceremonies, but Bucky feels like he’s been here for weeks even though he has several days of competition left. A big meet is always a strange limbo for him — feeling like he’s going at full speed, unable to catch his breath, even as he feels like it’s dragging on, no end in sight. That feeling has been worse this season. 

His whole body is exhausted; he’s used to that. His left leg is sore, though, like it has been at every meet this year. He’s gotten used to that, too; he’s not sure it’ll ever be 100% again. But he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels too lucky, being here, regardless of how much of himself he poured into his comeback. It feels too fast, too easy, like he shouldn’t have gotten this far but instead should’ve been stopped at the gate, told ‘sorry, you don’t belong here anymore.’ He might as well have sold his soul to get himself here, and he keeps waiting for someone to tell him his time is up. 

He keeps waiting for his leg to give out. 

He checks his brace again, under his pants. It’s still secure, just like it was when he checked it two minutes ago, and two minutes before that. He shakes his head and curses the universe for assigning the high bar as his last event today. 

Bucky has had a phenomenal qualifying round, as have his teammates. John Egan, Curtis Biddick, Harry Crosby, John Brady, and Alex Jefferson: that’s the men’s gymnastics team that stands a chance of putting the U.S. back on the podium for the first time since 2008, and their qualifying round looks promising. Particularly between Bucky’s floor and rings, Curt’s vault and high bar, Croz’s pommel horse and parallel bars, and Brady and Alex’s ability to seamlessly fill in the gaps in any event, they look pretty unstoppable right about now. They just have to keep this going for the finals, and hope some of them qualify for individual events and all around.

Bucky and Curt cheer loudly as Croz completes his dismount on parallel bars. The team swarms him as he leaves the apparatus, patting him on the back and telling him he did an amazing job.

“Can’t believe you stole my dismount,” Bucky jokes. Croz had perfectly executed a parallel bars dismount that, in the code of points, was dubbed “the Egan” the year before Bucky’s accident.

Croz laughs and bumps his shoulder against Bucky’s. “You just wish you did it as good as I do.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and ruffles Croz’s hair, saluting his team as he follows their coach to the high bar. He’s the last athlete on their team to finish their final rotation. As he chalks up his hands, bounces from foot to foot and hypes himself up, his eyes skim over the crowd of spectators. It’s nothing compared to the crowd for women’s gymnastics, especially just for qualifications, but it’s something. It’s big enough that he shouldn’t be able to pick out a face unless he knows where to look. 

And yet his eyes are drawn like a magnet to Gale Cleven – and wait, what the hell is he doing here? Blonde hair and a cheerful smile, undoubtedly fresh from Versailles where Bucky knows he was riding dressage for the eventing team earlier today. He’s looking off somewhere in the distance, beyond where Bucky is prepping for his final event. But Marge and Benny are on either side of him, and when Marge sees Bucky looking up at the stands, she excitedly smacks Gale’s arm and shouts, pointing to the apparatus below. Gale’s eyes lock right onto Bucky’s, and he takes a deep breath before he waves and yells, “GO JOHN!” Benny and Marge even join in.

Bucky blows Gale a kiss, and he finds himself honest to god grinning before the high bar for the first time since before his accident. 

The world notices it, too. 

“John looks almost excited about this event for the first time since his comeback,” the commentators are saying on TV. The camera focuses on him as he steps onto the mat next to his coach. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like that’s… Gale Cleven? In the stands. Is that who he’s smiling at? The equestrian athlete.”

The other commentator says “I think you’re right. You know, they’ve been spotted together quite a lot in the last few days. Including at the opening ceremonies.”

The Paris opening ceremonies had been historical, as the first summer games opening ceremony to take place outside of a stadium. The night was straight out of a fairy tale, with colorful lights all along the Seine as athletes stood on boats that traveled down the river at sunset, spectators watching from the sides and from above. They sailed in a 6 kilometer parade that ended right in front of the Eiffel Tower. Some of the equestrian team had been spotted with the men’s gymnastics team on the U.S. boat, all of them orbiting around John and Gale, who were seen laughing and talking, always an arm slung around a shoulder or a hand on a waist. Social media, of course, has been going crazy over those photographs.

So if the media wasn’t interested in John Egan and Gale Cleven as a potential item before, well, they are certainly interested now. 

“John Egan has been very open about his sexuality in recent years,” the first commentator says. “So one definitely has to wonder if there’s something between those two.”

But Bucky doesn’t care about that at the moment.

He raises his arm in salute to the judges, and his coach helps lift him up to the bar. “You got this John,” he says, and then it’s just Bucky and the bar he’s determined not to fear.

He breathes deeply as he swings himself up and around, forcing his focus to narrow to nothing but this moment. No past. No future. Just now. He takes that with him into his first release, a simple straddle. Then he works himself up to a Kolman, a backflip with a full twist. Then a Cassina, the same thing in a laid-out position. The Cassina is the exact release that almost ruined his life. But today he completes it, and he’s on to the next skill, and the next and the next. He can feel his heart beating through his entire being every time his hands seek out the bar, every time he completes a skill and surges into the next.

Somewhere off to the side, he can hear Curt and Croz shouting encouragement at the top of their lungs, as they always do. He can feel the bar gripped beneath his fingertips, and the air rushing by with every swing, every release, every flip. He can feel the exertion in his face and in his arms with every handstand. He can feel the tension in his legs.

But then his body is flipping through the air, his feet are hitting the ground. He’s staring down at them, pressed into the mat with his arms out to the side. He’s done it. 

It’s only qualifying, so he’s far from done here. But he stuck his dismount perfectly, not even a step off balance, and his teammates are going wild because they know how much every little success means this year. Bucky salutes the judges before yelling “LET’S GO!” as he pumps a fist in the air and walks off the mat, where he’s greeted with slaps on the back and tight hugs from team USA. 

Curt and Croz practically lift him into the air in their excitement, and Bucky’s eyes catch Gale’s again. He’s right in the front of the grandstand with Marge and Benny, and they’re on their feet, waving their arms in the air as they celebrate this small victory right along with him. 

–

“Are you okay?” Gale asks later that night. Bucky has been quiet for several minutes now, rubbing absently at his left lower leg and knee as he stares off into space. It’s a couple of hours after qualifications ended, and they’re in Gale’s room, Benny having gone out with some of the other equestrian team members for the evening. Gale is sitting on the floor next to his bed, his back against the wall, so Bucky can sit comfortably on the bed. Damn cardboard.

Bucky nods at Gale and tries to give a reassuring smile that falters at the edges. “Yeah, my leg is just a little sore I guess.”

He doesn’t miss the way Gale freezes, just for half a second. The way his eyes flick to Bucky’s left leg, the way he nervously licks his lower lip in concern. Fuck.

“You watched the video didn’t you,” Bucky asks. He groans when Gale stays quiet, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “I should’ve told you not to look it up.”

He shouldn’t have let Gale search for that terrible video that has no business being anywhere online. That Bucky tries with every fiber of his being to forget exists because, if he doesn’t, he might be masochistically drawn to watching it himself. And that is the last thing he needs.

But they showed it on the news when it happened. The whole gymnastics world has seen it. Everyone who cares to watch it has seen it. The whole world witnessed his downfall in disgusting clarity. And with the Olympics now, it’s circulating yet again. 

It gives curious and sadistic spectators a front row seat to the moment that almost destroyed John Egan’s career. He was at the World Gymnastics Championships in the UK in November 2022. High bar was his last event; he was so close to a world medal. But then the unthinkable happened. His hands sought out the bar at the end of a Cassina, a skill he’s been doing for years now, and all of a sudden, the bar just snapped in half. Bucky vividly remembers the sensation of his heart plummeting in his chest, the air whipping past his face too fast too fast too fast, the stunned silence around him as if everything was happening in slow motion. And then an explosion of pain that made his vision go white before there was just nothing.

The video shows him hurtling through the air off of the broken bar, landing in an ugly heap with a crunch and a blood curdling scream that supposedly came out of his own mouth. His leg can be seen twisted at awful angles as he lay unconscious on the mat, crumpled like a rag doll, as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes that had been tossed to the ground. Everything was too still, everyone too shocked to move. 

Then suddenly the world remembered that it was supposed to keep turning. His coach, who would torment himself for months over whether there was any way he could’ve stopped this from happening, rushed to him, followed by Curt and Croz, who would rarely leave his side through his whole recovery. Medics pushed through them all, saying they needed space. They tried to wake him up, tried to find signs of life. They lifted his limp body onto the stretcher. The crowd murmured nervously as they watched, wondering if they’d just witnessed the end of a record-breaking career.

Bucky doesn’t remember any of that, though. He doesn’t remember anything between the excruciating pain immediately following his premature dismount and waking up, still in excruciating pain, in a white hospital room. He’d hit his head somehow during the fall, knocking him out for two straight days. It was a miracle, they said, that he didn’t have any brain damage. But the same could not be said about his leg. He’d fractured his tibia and destroyed just about everything in his knee that there was to destroy. 

The surgeon told him he may never do gymnastics again. 

He practically spat in the surgeon’s face.

Because Bucky doesn’t know who he’d be without gymnastics. He doesn’t want to know. 

“I would’ve looked it up either way,” Gale says quietly.

“Why? I knew it would only scare you.”

“I don’t know,” Gale admits. He looks back up at Bucky, his eyes worried. “Everyone keeps talking about your comeback. Back at the top again after a career-ending injury. They talk about how awful it was. I needed to know what they meant… I couldn’t stand not knowing.”

“You won’t be able to stand knowing, either,” Bucky insists, picking at the fabric of his tee shirt to keep his fingers from shaking.

Gale frowns. “I’m not the one that lived it.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and looks Gale in the eye. “I don’t talk about it much.”

“I understand.”

“It was… it was a long process. Getting here again.” 

And then Bucky does something he never does. He tells Gale about what it took, what it cost him. He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s a need for Gale to know him, that same aching need that he’s felt the last several days. Or maybe it’s just a need for someone to hear this story that he only ever shoves down, down, down where it can’t hurt him anymore. 

He tells Gale about the pain – physical and emotional – of destroying your body and your career at the same time. He tells him about the physical therapy, the occupational therapy, the weeks and weeks he spent just trying to walk again. About the way Curt and Croz refused to let him push them away, how they stuck by his side and went through all of the physio with him no matter how insufferable he could be, no matter how angry at the world he got. He talks about the months spent with a sports psychologist trying to stop being afraid, and how he still talks to the guy sometimes to keep his head level when the anxiety picks up again. 

He tells Gale about how excruciating it was trying to train again, trying to get his body to listen to his brain again. Trying to push through the pain just enough to keep going, but not enough to break. And how utterly humiliating it was at times, being in his old gym with his Olympian teammates but being unable to perform and land skills that once were simple. He talks about how he felt so much gut-wrenching guilt at the thought of letting his late sister down, as absurd as he knows that was. And he tells Gale about how he bailed out in a panic his first several times back on a high bar, flipping into the foam pit that was mercifully below him. He explains the slow, aggravating process of trusting himself again, and accepting the fact that he can’t trust anything but himself and the people close to him in this crazy, unfair world. 

He doesn’t even remember how he got there, but by the time Bucky has run out of words, he’s on the floor with Gale. He’s letting himself hide away in Gale’s strong arms, which are wrapped tightly around him, one hand on his back and the other cupping the back of his head. He’s curled into Gale’s side with his head tucked against his shoulder, and he’s fighting to make sure he doesn’t start crying all over this man’s shirt.

After learning about how hard Bucky has pushed himself, how unrelenting he’s been in his recovery, a part of Gale wants to say please don’t hurt yourself. But he knows he has no right. He knows firsthand that those words are empty. When anyone says it to him, a quiet plea to be careful, slow down, he laughs and tells them that’s not how horseback riding works. He does what he can to be smart, be safe. But in the end, his control stops at a blurry horizon where Lady Luck begins. He loves his sport, and he knows John loves gymnastics in the same exact way. It’s who they are, simple as that. 

So instead he rubs Bucky’s back, whispers to him that it’s alright, holds him tight as if Gale alone can protect him from the world. He gently kisses Bucky’s temple, and when Bucky pulls away at last, Gale pats his knee. “Come here, let me try to do something about that leg.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, motioning questioningly to his bad leg. Gale nods and makes a shooing motion with his hand. “Yep. Scoot back, let me see.”

Bucky does as he’s told, leaning against the bed frame so that his leg is in Gale’s lap. Gale shoves up the leg of Bucky’s sweatpants, and then there’s surprisingly strong, warm hands on his skin, working at the sore muscles in his lower leg and around his knee. 

“Oh fuck,” Bucky groans, letting his weight collapse against the side of the bed.

Gale smirks at him. “What? Is it that surprising that I can give a massage?” he asks. Bucky shrugs, and Gale shakes his head at him. “I’m a horseback rider. My body’s been acting like it’s 45 since I was 20.”

“I didn’t know it was that hard on the body,” Bucky admits. 

Gale laughs mirthlessly as his palm presses up the side of Bucky’s leg, damn near making him moan again. “It is,” Gale explains. “People who don’t ride never really notice how hard the rider has to work. How much stress and strain it puts the body through. Not to mention the way horses can throw you around like you’re nothing.”

“Have you ever been hurt?” Bucky asks. “Badly?”

“I have,” Gale says easily. He looks at Bucky with a wan smile. “Not as bad as you. But I’ve broken my wrist, had my fair share of concussions. I took a hard fall when I was about 18, right after I started college. Fucked up my back real bad. It was one of those injuries where not even the doctors were sure what went wrong, you know? MRIs showed what looked like a stress fracture, but it was strange for that to happen from blunt force trauma like that. I’ve had chronic back pain ever since. Couldn’t even breathe without pain for weeks. I lived on borderline dangerous doses of Advil for months.”

Gale sighs, flexing his shoulders like he’s trying to stretch out his upper back. “It still bugs me sometimes. There’s a lot of simple things I can’t tolerate so well anymore, or that I have to be careful about.”

Bucky blinks at him, tensing like he’s about to move away. “Then why the fuck am I making you sit on the floor?”

Gale shushes him and pats his leg gently before he keeps working at it. “It’s fine. You deserve all of this after today. I can sit on the floor for a little while, I won’t break.” Bucky gives him a skeptical look and Gale rolls his eyes. “Stop that. I’m okay, Bucky. Really.”

So Bucky relents, if nothing else because he needs the magic in Gale’s hands not to give up on him now. He’s curling his fingers, seething through his teeth when those hands hit a particularly sore spot, gasping when Gale sets to work on a knot in the muscle. “That’s- that’s really good,” Bucky grits out. “Keep doing that.”

Gale is watching him carefully, no doubt amused by the actually obscene sounds coming out of his mouth right now, but Bucky doesn’t even care. He just focuses on those perfect hands, those long fingers, so sure and so deliberate and so soothing, as they work up and down his lower leg. He feels like those hands might be able to single-handedly take away every bit of pain he’s ever felt. And the way Gale’s attention is so wholly on him is intoxicating and endearing at the same time. Gale Cleven could slap him in the face and Bucky would say thank you, but here he is, taking care of Bucky without a second thought, like he actually means something to him. Bucky really doesn’t have the wherewithal right now to sort out why that’s such a turn on. 

“I’m sorry I missed your ride today,” he says instead.

Gale shrugs as his hands move up around Bucky’s knee, his touch turning gentle around the fragile joint. “It’s not a big deal.”

Except it is. “I’ll be there for cross country,” Bucky promises. “Maybe even part of jumping before I have to get back to the stadium for finals.”

“It’s fine, John,” Gale reiterates. “I don’t expect you to be there. And cross country is boring in person anyways. Spectators basically stay near a single jump for most of it, since the course is so long. You’d see a lot more of me if you just watched online.”

“Oh I’ll be there,” Bucky says resolutely, even though he’s admittedly terrified at the prospect of Gale hurtling down a cross country course, flying over jumps on the back of a strong-willed animal. “I would’ve been there today if it didn’t clash with my schedule.”

“Maybe I’ll give you an exhibition ride sometime.” Gale’s fingers stop working at Bucky’s knee, and he smooths one hand down Bucky’s muscular leg.

Bucky tracks the movement with hungry eyes, busy thinking about what else he knows those hands can do. “I know you’re joking,” he says. “But I’d like that.” 

When Gale glances up at him again, Bucky is biting at his lower lip, looking right at him with such earnestness that Gale can’t help but blush. “Okay, we can do that.”

“You know.” Bucky glances over his shoulder at the bed. “I’ve been hearing reports that these things are sturdier than we thought this time around. They supposedly hold up well to… extracurriculars.”

Gale tilts his head thoughtfully, his eyes flicking from Bucky to the bed and back. “Is that so?”

Bucky nods, biting his lower lip, teasing. So Gale lets Bucky’s pant leg fall back down to his ankle again, and Bucky crawls forward until he’s right in front of Gale. In one smooth motion, he practically scoops Gale into his arms and settles him on the bed, hovering over top of him. The bed frame holds. Gale grins up at him, his hand reaching up to stroke Bucky’s cheek, and Bucky’s hand settles underneath Gale’s shirt, finding its home on the side of his waist where it’s decided it belongs. 

“Maybe I can do this for you sometime,” Bucky offers. “You know, the massage.”

Gale nods, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah. The massage. Of course.” Then he pulls Bucky down into a desperate kiss.

---

---

Next part

Bucky's injury is in part based on Brody Malone, who is making his comeback this year after suffering a similar leg injury off high bar just over a year ago. I am heavily rooting for him going into gymnastics trials this weekend! If you're interested in what a high bar routine is like, watch his amazing US Championships routine here.

(Gale's back injury is loosely based off personal equestrian experience ✌)

[annievrse]

vodka problems

eren x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: sasha and connie throw a party, and all the exciting things happen at parties! OR in which you and eren are exes, and it's the first party you both attend after the break-up. w/c: 5k+ warnings: maybe ooc eren (because idk how to write him yet, yikes), angst, alcohol, dissociating, c-word (3 whole times), swearing, anxiety about the future & love, maybe some errors, and a rushed ending because i had no more ideas. a/n: this isn’t how i thought this would go, but it’s how it turned out so, enjoy.

You were going to kill them. Nothing could sway you from doing so. Sasha Braus was about to be your first victim, and Connie Springer your second. The plan was already brewing in your mind: promise them an all-you-can-eat buffet, take the pair to a warehouse, blindfolded, get them into a position where the method of execution could be performed (you hadn’t thought that far ahead yet), and then strike. Quick and easy, and nobody would be surprised; they couldn’t even be convinced to go in the first place because you’d already said this to their faces. 

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Sasha exclaimed, rolling her eyes. You glared at her from your spot on her bed and then at Connie, who sat on the floor against the wall across the room. 

Connie laughed manically. “She’s gone insane!” 

You shook your head, clenching your fists to stop the slight shaking of your hands. “Guys…” 

At the sound of your exasperated tone, Sasha threw a lone throw pillow at Connie’s face, and the pair stopped teasing. 

“Listen,” Sasha started, sauntering toward you. “We can’t just… exclude him from our group get-togethers because you broke up.” 

It was the truth you had accepted a month ago, yet it was like a thousand needles in your stomach when Sasha said it aloud. You nodded, your gaze finding your hands.

“I’m sure he feels the same right now,” Sasha looked over her shoulder at Connie, who shrugged. The former rolled her eyes again and turned back to you. “Or at least, I hope he does. Asshole.” 

“Hey! It’s not like he’s been sleeping around! Eren’s a good guy,” Connie’s face screwed up in an angered expression at the thought that his closest friends were talking wrong about his other friend. “Just because he’s not hung up on this doesn’t make him an asshole!” He stood up, Sasha facing him. 

His last comment made your eyes weary. The one thousand needles tripled. 

“We know that! But-–” Sasha tilted her head in your direction. “Let girls talk shit, okay? It was a bad situation.” 

Connie cringed at the mention of the aftermath of your and Eren’s breakup. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I am right,” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Y/n is allowed to react the way she is because girls can feel emotions without being overdramatic.” 

“What about killing us? You said she was being dramatic.” 

“I mean, threatening to kill your friends is a little…” Sasha glanced at you. “But everything else! I know what you boys have been saying, and it’s not only hurtful to Y/n but to me! And Mikasa! Girls, in general! Just because Eren moved on so quickly doesn’t mean Y/n has to! She has every right to feel the way she does. I was like this for months when Nic and I broke up!”

“That was a different thing, and you got back together.”

“Besides the point!”

“Sasha?” You pipe up, tired of watching your friends argue over you. 

The two twist their heads toward you, forgetting you were there. Sasha’s eyes softened when she saw the dejected look on your face. 

“I’m just gonna go,” You wring your fingers. “I’ll see you tonight, though. Yeah?” 

Connie opened his mouth to say something, but Sasha elbowed him. “Yes, we will be seeing you tonight. Glad you’re coming.” 

You got up from the bed, and Sasha hugged you.

“Bye, Con.”

“Bye,” Connie replied solemnly. 

As you left the room, you heard a smack. “Do you ever know when to shut the fuck up, Springer?” 

You left their shared apartment—where you would return later. 

7:29 pm

Hearing the elevator ding, you turned towards the opening doors; the smell of sweat, alcohol, and weed hit you in the face as you exited. Despite Sasha and Connie’s apartment halfway down the hallway, the music and scents spilled out their front door. 

You held the bottle of Chardonnay you had brought loosely between your fingers, the effects of the other bottle of wine you had downed before coming hitting you straight on: liquid courage and all that. 

You opened the door without knocking and stepped into Sasha and Connie’s apartment. Music made the floor vibrate, which was ignored due to your inebriated and gloomy state. 

“Y/n!” Hands on your shoulders, and the familiar ecstatic energy of your best friend drew you out of your daze. “You’re here!” 

“I’m here!” You laughed bitterly, although the previous unwanted anxiety and feelings towards tonight were already dissipating. 

“Oh jeez, you’re already gone,” Sasha shook her head disapprovingly. “Tch, should’ve kept you here from this morning.” 

You disagreed. “No! See, I wouldn’t have brought us a bottle if I stayed here. This is for nobody else.” 

Sasha’s grin grew wider. “Thank you!”

You lifted the bottle towards her face, giggling. Sasha snatched the bottle out of your hand as soon as it was close enough and uncapped it, all in one motion.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of the now half-empty bottle in her hands. “Sash!” 

She held the bottle out of your reach and grabbed your hand, pulling you into the kitchen. “I think the boys are in Connie’s room, but don’t worry, I won’t take you to them.”

You knew who the boys entailed, and you were beyond grateful. 

“Annie, Ymir, and Historia are in the living room, playing some board game. I don’t know who does that at a party, but they’re having fun…” Then she looked behind you. “Oh! Marco,” Sasha pushed you backwards slightly. “Get Y/n a drink. I gotta pee.” 

You stumbled back into a tall figure, spinning around to meet your friend. “Marco!”

The freckled boy rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “Y/n! What would you like?”

You pursed your lips in thought. “Make me a mimosa? Mr. Bartender?” 

Marco laughed and reached up to retrieve a glass from the cupboard unit beside you. “Of course, Miss. Any special requests?” 

You eyed the Grey Goose on the counter, not thinking twice about your answer. “Hold the vodka, please.” 

Marco blanched as he poured sparkling wine into a cup. “Oh, yeah, okay. No problem.” 

You folded your lips between your teeth at the awkward air settling between you, and you didn’t think your response through before it slipped out. The music from the living room speakers, paired with the clink of a spoon on glass, was the only sound in the kitchen. 

It was no secret what had happened between you and Eren—the entire friend group had been there to witness it, which was the worst part. A party, a few bottles of vodka, and insecurities from both sides were at play that night. It was a recipe for disaster, and it just so happened that you and Eren were the casualties, along with friendships that were becoming more strained as the weeks passed. It didn’t help that you or Eren were often missing from group gatherings when the other was present, but somehow, Sasha had managed to get you in the same apartment as him for a night. It was either a master plan that could save the group or cause it to dismantle completely, and nobody wanted that. 

“Here you go,” Marco said, pushing the glass across the counter. 

Tears welled in your eyes at his sudden distance. “Thanks, Marc.” 

At the sound of your teary voice, his eyes shot toward you. “Hey, hey,” He reached for you, bringing you into his chest. “I’m sorry. No crying tonight, okay? Nobody hates you, I promise. You are as much a part of this group as he is. You are not allowed to leave.” 

“Who said I was leaving?” You mumbled into his chest, tears dampening his t-shirt. 

“People talk,” He replied, rubbing your back. “And a little Sasha told me you mentioned the group would be better without you.” 

You sniffled and laughed, eyes watery. “Can you blame me? Mikasa hasn’t spoken to me in a month, and Armin only says hello when he has to. I can’t keep putting myself through that. I don’t want to lose more friends over this.”

“If I were a nice person who cared about your well-being, I would tell you to leave us ASAP. But since I’m not, I need you to stay, okay? Who else would I make mimosas for at these ‘parties’?” 

You laughed and pulled away. “Nobody.” 

“Exactly!” Marco exclaimed. “And just you being here tonight tells me you don’t actually want to leave.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“No guessing about it,” Marco stepped back. “You are staying. Now,” He clapped. “Wanna join the losers in the living room for a game of Monopoly?” 

You nodded, sipping your drink. Marco would never know the effect his words had on you. No matter what happened with Eren, you had a place in this group. Sure, Sasha had repeatedly told you the same thing, but hearing it from someone else, who didn’t have to say anything, was special. “I would love to.”

9:02 pm

After Sasha had joined the game and Historia had won Monopoly (thanks to Ymir, who kept slipping her money under the table), the rest of the boys emerged from Connie’s room, bringing the stench of weed along with them. 

“Holy shit! Y/n?” Jean yelled in greeting. The grin on his face was wide, and it caused one to break across your cheeks too. 

“Hi, Jeanie,” You laughed, standing up from the couch. You rounded the table to hug him, ignoring the others. You and Jean had always been close, even before you started dating Eren. Not seeing him because you chose to distance yourself proved more hurtful than beneficial. 

“Haven’t seen you for ages. How are you?” His voice was soft against your ear, and you tightened your arms around him. 

“Been better, but I missed you.” 

“We’re here too, you know,” Connie piped up, rolling his eyes. 

“I saw you this morning, idiot,” You laughed, Jean joining you as you pulled apart. 

You stepped to the right of Jean and scanned the faces of everyone in Connie’s room; Armin, Mikasa, Bertie, Reiner, Eren (sparingly), Connie himself, and—who is she? 

A petite brunette girl stood at Eren’s side. Her features were sharp and tinted pink when you met her eyes. 

You lifted your hand in a lazy wave and turned back to the couch. Your chest tightened at seeing someone you didn’t know hanging out with your group—were they replacing you already? 

Sasha noticed your fidgety hands and grabbed them as you sat next to her. You didn’t look anywhere but at the table. 

The room grew tense and awkward. 

And when nobody spoke, Eren threw his arms up. “I’m getting a beer. Anyone want one?” 

The sound of his voice was cutting. It shredded the weeks of progress you had tried to heal and buried deep into your subconsciousness. You missed his voice. 

Your eyes lifted, and when your gaze landed on him, Eren inhaled sharply. “I’ll have one.” 

Everybody held their breath as you and Eren exchanged words. They never thought they’d see the day, even if it was to be mean to each other. 

Eren’s lip curled. “You sure you don’t want vodka? I heard it’s good for ruining relationships, which you seem great at!”

“Okay! That’s where we end that. Real mature,” Sasha stood abruptly, her hands ripping from yours. “Eren, a word?” 

“Would love one, Sasha,” Eren’’s tone was clipped as he stalked back down the hallway. 

The brunette girl shifted her weight. You watched her stand awkwardly without Eren there. 

You couldn’t move with everyone’s eyes on you. With your muscles frozen, you’re eyes were unblinking as the muffled voices from down the hallway got louder. 

“Y/n, right?” A new voice spoke. You lifted your head and saw the new girl walking hesitantly toward you. “I’m Cate.” 

Your eyes flickered to Jean, who was holding his breath. A small smile replaced your blank stare as you shook the girl’s hand. You couldn’t hate this girl. No matter what happened between you and Eren, she would never be the target of your anger. 

“Nice to meet you.”

Around you, the room started moving normally again. Laughs were heard, and conversation picked back up. After her introduction, Cate scuttered to the kitchen, and you slumped back into the couch. 

“Nice to meet you,” Jean teased, flopping down next to you, lifting his leg to put it over your lap. 

“Shut the fuck up. What was I meant to say?” You snapped, smacking his knee. 

“What you said was fine. Jean’s just being a dick,” Marco said from the other side of you. 

“If anything, Eren’s being a dick,” Jean mumbled. 

You said nothing. And when Jean was going to start speaking again, a pair of legs stopped in front of you. 

The blonde boy looked nervous as he looked down at you. “Hey, Y/n.” 

“Hi, Armin. How are you?” 

He sighed and smiled. “I’m well. How are you?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “You know…” 

Armin nodded and sat on the coffee table in front of you. Your knees hit his as you pouted at him. 

“Armin… why haven’t I seen you in biochem?” You asked, giggling as you said your following sentence. “You didn’t drop out, did you?” 

Armin gaped at your jab and shook his head. “I’m offended at the thought! I had to change classes. It clashed with my other biology class.”

You smiled understandingly. “I guess I was just hurt you didn’t tell me. I know it can be awkward.” 

Armin sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” 

“I always want to hear from you,” You furrowed your eyebrows. “You’re the only one who listens to my ramblings about everything.” 

Jean and Marco went to object, saying anything about how they’d had heard it all for the past few weeks when Armin laughed. “That’s true. Got anything for me right now?” 

“And that’s when we leave,” Jean stood, motioning for Marco to do the same. “Bye, guys.” 

10:39 pm

To say a majority of the group was intoxicated would be an understatement. 

Ymir and Historia left an hour ago because Historia was on the verge of passing out. Sasha and Eren had gone to different ends of the apartment a while ago after Sasha yelled at him for half an hour. He hadn’t looked in your direction since he came out of the room. 

Eren now sat, with Cate, on the couch, a beer held loosely between his fingers, taking sparse swigs. His eyes were heavy, but his cold facade never wavered. Surrounding him were Bertie, Reiner, Mikasa, Armin, and Annie. They were conversing about the NBA or NFL; you couldn’t remember the topic when you left. 

Conversely, you were perched on the counter in the kitchen as Marco, Jean, Connie, and Sasha competed in a ‘who could make the better drink’, with you as the judge. You were beyond tipsy, everything falling from your lips unfiltered, which was good and bad when tasting their beverages. 

Your face soured as you swallowed. “Fuck, Jean! That’s disgusting!” 

The tall boy cackled, holding his stomach as you tipped the rest of the drink down the sink. “I spent my time on that! You're so ungrateful!” 

The rest of the group laughed at your misfortune, pushing various shaped cups and glasses in your direction for you to try. 

The laughter soon died when Cate walked into the kitchen. She wore a smile on her face and waved when she noticed everyone’s eyes on her. “Hey, guys. What’re you doing?” 

“Best drink competition, wanna play? Y/n’s judging,” Connie asked, his eyes hanging and words slurred. 

“Uh, yes! I’ll make mine now. No peeking!” She laughed, picking up a random cup off the opposite counter. You and the others covered your eyes playfully. 

“Okay, done,” Cate muttered, handing you a black cup. “Tell me what you think.” 

Maybe it was the alcohol playing tricks on you, but when she handed you the cup, the typical mischief you’d encountered in everyone else’s eyes when they gave you their drinks was far less dark and cynical than hers. Cate wore a smirk as Jean did, but it seemed more calculated than his silly one. But your drunk brain was too dismissive to take it to heart. So, you took a sip of her drink. 

And when the sharp tang of vodka hit your tongue, you almost vomited. Your lips parted, and your eyes watered at the taste and what it had caused you weeks ago. 

“Bitch,” You whispered, yet nobody heard. 

The kitchen was silent as Cate stood before you, arms folded over her chest. She leaned closer to you, her mouth next to your ear. “It’s a shame. You’re so pretty but such a cunt. I almost feel bad for the guy. He had to tolerate you for so long. Thanks for letting me have him.” 

And as Cate fell back onto her heels, she sighed, like uttering those words filled her with relief. 

Sasha instantly recognised the look on your face and gasped. Even in her drunken haze, she had perfect aim. Her palm came in contact with Cate’s cheek before the boys could even react, and you took no notice of what had just happened, gaze unfocused and on the floor. 

“Woah!” Connie yelled, placing his glass in the sink to hold back his best friend. 

“Sasha, what?” Jean exclaimed, hooking his arms around Cate’s from behind. 

And Marco was silent. He stood beside you, taking the cup from your hands and sniffing the liquid. He sighed when he recognised the smell. “Fuck.” He whispered. 

“You’re never allowed back into my house! Get out!” Sasha screamed. “Or you’ll finally get to see the crazy bitch you’ve been calling me for a month!” 

The commotion had finally caused a reaction from the group in the living room, who were now flooding the space. The music was quiet, which made the scene more tense.

“What the fuck is going on?” Reiner yelled over the arguing, taking notice of Cate in Jean’s arms and Sasha in Connie's. 

“Let go of me, Connie!” Sasha cried. She now had tears streaming down her face at the same rate as you. 

You were dissociating; Sasha could see it clear as day. Your hands shook, and your eyes were unfocused as you stared at the floor, your body swaying ever so slightly. 

“Please, let me go.” 

Having heard the plea and sadness in Sasha’s voice, Connie released her. The girl stumbled out of his hold and rushed toward you, helping you off the counter with Marco’s assistance. She ushered you back into the living room and down the hallway to her room. 

“Let go of Cate, bro,” Eren snapped, stepping forward to reach her. 

Jean threw his friend a glare. “Okay, bro,” Jean laughed bitterly and let go of the brunette. 

Nobody in the kitchen said a word except for Marco, who had had enough awkward silences tonight. 

“Before you go, Eren, because you tend to do that a lot now, I’d take a good, hard look at who you’re keeping company,” Marco shifted his gaze to Cate, who stood rubbing her arms. 

“Me? You think this is my fault? That girl is insane! No wonder you broke up, Ren,” She looked up at Eren. 

The other boys, Mikasa and Annie, watched anxiously for Eren’s next move. 

11:00 pm

Meanwhile, you were in Sasha’s room sipping on a water bottle she handed you. Despite the short time, you were already starting to sober up, both from the shock of what just happened and the granola bar Sasha had forced down your throat after she locked her bedroom door. 

“God, I hate her. I tried to keep quiet tonight for Eren’s sake, but I can’t, not after that,” Sasha mumbled. “What did she say to you?” 

“Uh,” You bit your bottom lip. “She called me a cunt and thanked me for giving her Eren or something. I don’t know. I zoned out.” 

Sasha let out a noise of frustration. “If I could punch Eren, I would. He has some serious nerve bringing her here when he knew you were coming.” 

“It’s no big deal. I mean, it’s true,” You said tonelessly. “I did some fucked up stuff to him that night.” 

“Firstly, shut up! You’re not a cunt, how are you? You got the courage to come here in the first place, and I’m so proud of you. Just because one girl, who must hate women, said that about you doesn’t mean you are one. It's a reflection of her, not you. And secondly, he said shit too! You’re both in the wrong. Stop taking all the blame.” 

“Thanks, Sash.” 

“You know what I mean. It’s bullshit. I hate that people took sides; I really do. It makes me feel like our group wasn’t as close as I thought.”

You placed your hand in hers. “I’m sorry for fucking up our friend group.”

Sasha sighed. “You didn’t fuck it up,” her eyes were glassy when she looked at you. “I think it was already fucked up.” 

Her statement made you laugh sadly. 

But your laugh was cut short by the sound of the front door slamming. You shared a look with Sasha as you heard footsteps approaching the bedroom door. 

“That’s probably Jean. Bet Eren left,” Sasha mumbled, squeezing your hand before straightening up from her bed. 

And as she opened the door, nothing could prepare you for who was standing there with his fist raised to knock. 

“Oh my god,” Sasha groaned. “Have you finally decided to talk to her? All it took was some girl to insult her for you to want to speak with her?” 

Every muscle in your body was unmoving. It was like someone had poured ice water over your head. If you hadn’t sobered up from the snack and water before, you definitely had now. 

“Sasha, please,” Eren whispered. Even though he towered over Sasha, Eren looked small. He was curled in on himself, shoulders hunched. 

“It’s okay, Sash,” You stated, noticing how Eren’s demeanour changed at your words. He looked almost the same as when you were together, ganging up on your friends to tease them lovingly. 

“Fine,” Sasha said firmly. Then she brought her finger to Eren’s chest. “But if you make her cry, I will strangle you.” 

Eren just nodded, knowing it wasn’t the time to joke around. Sasha side-stepped to let him inside her room before turning around and holding the door handle.

“I will shut this door for privacy only. I don’t want to walk in here later to see you’ve killed each other,” Despite her words, Sasha smiled as she said so. 

“Bye, Sash,” You wave, hyperaware of Eren standing a few feet away. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

And when the door clicked shut, Eren shifted in his spot. You waited for him to speak, but it never came. You guessed his conversation with Sasha earlier in the night had put him in his place.

“Where do you wanna start?” You asked, choosing to help him sort out his thoughts instead of attacking him immediately. 

Eren, seemingly grateful, fidgeted with his hands. “I want to talk about the party first.” 

You nodded, looking away from him. 

“I wanna start by saying we both had too much to drink that night. I should’ve never tried to find you afterwards; I was just so confused and hurt,” Only then did Eren glance in your direction. You met his eyes and shook your head. “I want to hear your side, but could I say my piece first?” 

You nodded, allowing him to continue. 

“Thanks,” He sighed with a crooked smile and shook his head softly to rid it. “Anyway, I, uh—that night went downhill so fast. I know they say that drunk words are sober thoughts, I know. But at that moment, I was so angry. I was angry at myself, you, and everyone else at that damn party because I—I couldn't take the questions, and the expectations, and the responsibilities. And you’re right. I am immature because I couldn’t understand why you made that choice, and I still don’t understand why you did. It just hurt me so deeply that I didn’t know how to accept it. I still don’t!"

"I stumbled around all night with that damn bottle of vodka because I knew you liked it, and when I saw you with the same bottle dancing with Sasha, I snapped. I couldn't believe you were having fun after hurting me so badly," Eren paced the floor. “But I can’t move on from you, sweetheart. I really can’t. And tonight,” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know why I brought her here. I guess I just wanted you to hurt as much as I do. But, if I knew she would act like that toward you, I never would've spoken to her in the first place. I’m sorry for that.” 

Tears brimmed your lash line as you nodded. Eren remained near the door. 

“I—uh, I’m sorry for everything I said too. Yes, you can be immature, but you’re not arrogant or aloof when speaking about serious stuff; you're doing it right now. And I’m sorry for doubting your love for me��in hindsight, it was a shitty thing to say considering…” You trailed off.

Eren stayed silent.

“I literally hung you out to dry in front of everyone, and you're still here trying to make amends with me!" You exclaimed, angry with yourself. "That's like one of the least immature things ever."

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. "That night scared the shit out of me, with all the talk about the future and what we’re going to do when we graduate literally next semester. Eren,” You look up at him. “I don’t have any plan. I’m going to finish my degree, and then what? I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to see my friends once a year because we’re all on different sides of the country, of the world! I want to stay here with the lunatics out there and you.”

The sudden confession made you pause. Eren inhaled sharply, meeting your eyes. You swallowed and continued. “I always wanted to stay with you.” 

Neither of you spoke. As you stared at each other, you noticed small things about Eren’s appearance that hadn’t been there the last time you’d seen him: the flyaways near his face were longer, his usual clean-shaven jaw was lightly stubbled, his black t-shirt was tighter around his arms, and the green in his eyes was darker. 

Eren broke the silence first. “I just want to know why you said no,” He begged. 

You were waiting for this question. Sure, Eren had asked it when you’d first answered his initial question, but now, he deserved an explanation. He hadn’t been angry at your answer, more heartbroken than anything. 

“You say you want to stay with me forever, yet you say no at the first real chance to do that.” 

You blinked, and tears fell down your cheeks. “I know,” Your voice was strained as you wiped at your eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

The bed dipped beside you, and Eren’s thigh pressed against yours. And as you hiccuped, Eren wrapped his arm around your shoulders, letting you lean into him. 

“It’s my biggest regret, saying no to you. I couldn't believe you’d actually want me like that.” 

“Of course, I want you like that. I want you in every way if you’d let me. But until you say the word, I’m not acting on anything you don’t want me to.”

You lifted your head from his chest and turned toward him. His arm fell from your shoulders, and you took his hands in yours. 

“If you asked me again, just know I’d say yes,” You cried. “That night… that night was among the very few when I didn’t believe you were real. There is absolutely no way that someone could love me the way you do. Nobody. I believed I would never be loved like that from a very young age. And it was confusing when you came into my life and told me differently after I'd spent years drilling into my mind that I’d be alone forever.” 

“I was terrified that saying yes meant I was falling for some cruel joke,” Eren’s hand hovered over your cheek before you tilted your face to rest in his hand. “But now that you’re still here, still wanting to marry me after I said all those horrible things to you, I know what you feel is true. You’re true.” 

Eren laughed, eyes watery as he nodded. “That doesn't make sense. But, yeah, I’m real, and my love for you will always be real.” 

"It only took a failed proposal for me to realise what I lost," You cringed, peering over at Eren.

He gave you a pained expression, hand over his chest. "Ouch, at my expense?"

You nodded, dragging your hand over your cheeks. "Unfortunately."

And just like that, the pair of you fell back in sync. Eren wrapped his arms around your shoulders, hugging you close. "I know we still have a lot to talk about, but can we just sit here for now?"

"Yeah," You whispered, circling your arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier in the living room," Eren muttered.

"It's okay. I was ready to say something mean back before Sasha interrupted. So I'll apologise for the intent."

Eren snorted. "I don't think anything you say to me could stop me from loving you."

"Even when I yell at you for leaving dishes in the sink?"

"Especially then," And then you felt him lick your cheek.

"And he's back," You mumble, wiping the side of your face. "I was starting to miss the weird side of you."

"Not my fault."

"Too soon."

You pulled yourself out of his embrace and composed yourself, wiping under your eyes and shaking your arms.

“Let’s start over,” Sticking your hand out, you sighed. “Hi, I’m Y/n.” 

Eren shook his head and clutched your outstretched hand. “Hi, Y/n. I’m Eren. I hope you don’t mind, but I will propose about a month into our inevitable relationship.” 

You smiled at him, tears slipping past your lashes again. “And this time, I’ll say yes, Mr Jaeger.” 

“Hey, I never told you my last name.” 

[thewalkingwillowtree]

hey!! if your taking requests can u do a neteyam sully x crybaby!reader

Hey!! Thank you for your request. I hope you enjoy!

~

A frustrated whine echoed around your family’s tent and your father shot you an alarmed look, his ears perking up immediately at the sound you’d made. 

You were seated at the family table, working on a complicated neck piece, however the beaded design was not going as planned- if anything, it would be your third failed attempt. 

Combined with the discouragement of your failure and the many painful pricks from your needle, tears pooled in the corners of your eyes and you let out a vexing sigh. 

Your father stood quickly, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried hard not to look in your direction, he never quite knew how to react when you got like this. Comfort and emotions were not his strong suit.

Which was probably why when he spotted Neteyam enter the tent at that very moment, his shoulders slumped in relief. He made his way over to his future son in law and whispered inaudibly while he gestured worriedly to your pitiful form. 

Neteyam responded in turn and nodded assuredly at him, patting him on the shoulder with an ‘I got it’ look and then your father left the tent, leaving you and your intended alone.

You didn’t look up as he came over to sit, not even protesting when he instantly tugged you into his folded lap- your back to his chest as his arms and knees curled to engulf you in pure comfort. 

This only seemed to make the tears fall even more though, as full body shaking sobs racked you. He remained silent, allowing you to have your moment and rocked you gently, pressing his cheek against the side of your head. 

When your sobs eventually died down, leaving you with the occasional hiccup or sniffle, you turned your head to see his face. “I’m s-sorry ‘Teyam.”

He smiled softly at your tear stained face, reaching a hand up to thumb away the evidence- cheeks, jaw, chin. “Why? There’s no shame in crying.” 

You let out a sound between a laugh and whimper, “you always say that. But I-”

“Uh-uh. Hey, look at me gorgeous. You never need to apologize to me alright? And definitely not for crying.”

You fiddled with the sewing still in your hands but said nothing. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s stupid…I was trying to make you a new neck piece but it’s not really working out.” You raised the mangled beading for him to see. “I don’t get why this isn’t working out- see look at how this one looks!” 

You ran your fingertips over the design he was currently sporting. It had taken you months to create and you felt pride whenever he wore it. You only wanted to give him another one. Why was that so hard?

You pouted petulantly and Neteyam, like a magnet to your lips, kissed you sweetly. He tugged the sewing from your hands and blindly tossed it onto the table. 

Still emotional from your cry fest, hot tears spilled from you once more as Neteyam deepened the kiss. 

Eywa had for sure blessed you with such an incredible, future mate. He just seemed to understand you completely. He was always so sweet and loving and patient. He made you feel treasured.

When he pulled back, he lifted your fingers to his lips and kissed each one, focusing on the little cuts and scabbed over dots that marred them.

“How about you take a little break for now? We’ll go flying, maybe do a little exploring, then when we come back you can try again. Who knows...maybe all you need is fresh eyes, a new perspective? Hmm?”

“Okay.” You agreed, smiling a little.

“Yeah?” He grinned too, then poked your side. “Oh come on, I know you can do better than that. Smile for me gorgeous.”

You giggled at his silliness, face automatically stretching into a full blown smile. 

“Ahh, there she is,” he kissed you once more, twice more, thrice more, basking in the sound of your giggles, “gosh I love you.”

And of course, in hearing his words and like you did every time he said it, your eyes misted. “I love you too.”

[areyoudreaminof]

Golden Hour: An Elucien Week Playlist

It's all come to this. To say I've been waiting on pins and needles for @elucienweekofficial is the biggest understatement. I spent months curating every song, beat, and lyric to best represent Elucien for Day 1: Mates.

SJM said that Elain was the person that she and Lucien didn't see coming, and that they would find "tension, growth, and healing," together. How great of a love story will that be? So for this playlist, I structured the 20 tracks around that narrative. Side A is the tension and Side B is healing and growth. Listen to it here! And come with me behind the cut for the lyrics. I hope this playlist inspires all of you to write, draw, create, and just jam.

Just Pretend-Bad Omens:

I know the pain That you hide behind the smile on your face And not a day Goes by where I don't think I feel the same So will you wait me out Or will you drown me out? I can wait for you at the bottom I can stay away if you want me to I can wait for years if I gotta Heaven knows I ain't getting over you

S P A C E-Amber Marks:

I know, it is hard to comprehend Why won’t, you let me be in my head? Alone, I need to be So don’t, straight up come walking in I tried, to warn you many times Now I, don’t want to start a fight But I, can’t go on this way So why, won’t you just give me some time?

Sunflower-Tamino :

Oh baby, don’t you notice me? Notice me, so ready to lose everything Everything for your love Every day I’m getting closer to you But you never answer my song I know love does not come easy Oh there must be someone who hears me

I Wanna Be Yours-Arctic Monkeys:

Let me be the portable heater That you'll get cold without I wanna be your setting lotion (Wanna be) Hold your hair in deep devotion (How deep?) At least as deep as the Pacific Ocean I wanna be yours Secrets I have held in my heart Are harder to hide than I thought Maybe I just wanna be yours

2AM-Foals:

It's 2am and I've gone and lost my friends But I can't sleep alone again No, I can't sleep alone, I just wanna go home And it's 2am again And all these years, I've been running from my fears But I can't sleep alone again And all my life, I've been looking for a light That I can't reignite again

It’s the nights When I keep you in my mind That I hoped that I'd be fine But I've started showing signs Of another late night Of another night time Oh, I hoped that you'd be mine

Old Stone-Laura Marling

Old stone Ten thousand years and you're still on your own Don't you love, don't you love me that way? And if you swear that you're alright I'm not gonna try and change your mind Because the same night I dream that I lose you I'll fall in love Oh, honey don't let me walk away from this If I'm trying to fuck up my own life Then until I figure out why I think it's best you keep your distance Lest I fall in love

1957-Milo Greene

The scent you wear moves in lines from your apartment into mine, You act like you don't know me My god you tempt my anxious mind, Takes me away, takes me away, takes me away

Shut Up, Kiss Me-Angel Olsen I could make it all disappear You could feed me all of your fears We could end all this pain right here We could rewind all of those tears I could take it down to the floor You don't have to feel it anymore A love so real that it can't be ignored It's all over, baby blue, I'm still yours

Spanish Sahara-Foals

Forget the horror here Leave it all down here It's future rust and it's future dust I'm the fury in your head I'm the fury in your bed I'm the ghost in the back of your head 'Cause I am

Waiting for You-The Aces

And I hope you know that I want you I've been sitting here waiting I've been waiting for you I've sent out invitations It's getting frustrating waiting for you I think you know, I'm waiting for you I'll take your hand and kiss your fingers So you don't have to break the ice No need for chill, just lose your filter I'm ready to dive in Melt the ice and just swim

Worship-Years and Years

Wanna be here tonight Wanna hide in your light Wanna cover my eyes I feel you reflecting me I worship all that you see

Just tell me how I can prove I'm the one for your fire And I'll take you higher I'll do it for you And you can worship me too

My My My! Troye Sivyan

Now, let's stop running from love Running from love Let's stop, my baby Let's stop running from us Let's stop, my baby Oh my, my, my I die every night with you Oh my, my, my Living for your every move

Butterflies-Kacey Musgraves

Kiss full of color makes me wonder where you've always been I was hiding in doubt 'til you brought me out of my chrysalis And I came out new All because of you

And now, you're lifting me up 'stead of holding me down Stealing my heart 'stead of stealing my crown Untangled all the strings 'round my wings that were tied I didn't know him and I didn't know me Cloud Nine was always out of reach Now, I remember what it feels like to fly

Cutty Love-Milo Greene

Time can over-complicate But darling I refuse to wait There's no way of planning For the fall All your paths will fade away Questions read by years in pain I can be the answer to it all

Even if your heart stops I'll be there to hold you up Even as the world turns I'll be there to watch the fire burn Burn us both alive

The Lamb You Lost-Jesca Hoop & Sam Beam

There is music in the sea And we swim into the sound Far adrift like I am free When your voice turns me around

Any heart could burst its shell Love is made for broken things Bring your hands to know me well Know my heart for what it sings

Moon in a tidal lock And I am born to love you

If It Feels Good, Then It Must Be-Leon Bridges

More than I choose to, I’m falling in love, And love I ain’t used to You give me that stuff No, I can’t refuse you You and I in the light, it’s alright Say you will, say you might If this is wrong, then nothing’s right See yourself like I do Oh, tonight looks good on you

Sunlight-Hozier

All the tales the same Told before and told again A soul that’s born in cold and rain Knows sunlight, sunlight, sunlight And at last can grant a name To a buried and a burning flame As love and its decisive pain Oh, my sunlight

Dog Years-Maggie Rogers

I spend my time daydreaming As sure as the sea It's just you and me Oh, and I'm the one that loves you

Come what may I'll still stay Inside your mind For all of time

Made to Love-John Legend

Oooh, I've never seen anything It's much more than you and me Extraordinary machine I was sent here for you We were made to love You were sent for me too We were made to love

Golden Hour-Kacey Musgraves

Baby, don't you know? That you're my golden hour The color of my sky You've set my world on fire And I know, I know everything's gonna be alright I used to get sad And lonely when the sun went down But it's different now 'Cause I love the light that I've found In you

I would not be here, writing or making playlists, were it not for Elucien. More importantly, were it not for Elucien, I wouldn't have met all of the wonderful people I now get to call my friends.

@acowarelucien @asnowfern @andrigyn @bookofmirth @bagelfyre @cursebrkr @c-e-d-dreamer @carmasi @damedechance @foundress0fnothing @iftheshoef1tz @melting-houses-of-gold @iheartfjords @krem-has-a-mess @kingofsummer93 @acourtdelaluna @lovingelucien @ofduskanddreams @mossytrashcan @octobers-veryown @panicatthenightcourt @reverie-tales @spell-cleavers @separatist-apologist @stickyelectrons @sunshinebingo @thelovelymadone @the-lonelybarricade @tuzna-pesma-snova @vulpes-fennec @velidewrites @wittyrejoinder @wilde-knight @yazthebookish @ineffable-resplendence @sideralwriting @ablogofbipanic @acourtdelaluna @foreverinelysian @filthyglamdoll @thesistersarcheron @ultadverb, @bellatrixship @potatocolada, @bennylavasbuns @lady-yenn @millameazza @acourtofthought

[serendipitys-teapot]

Guys, guys, guys 🥰

Loyalty and Limerence just hit 🎉700 kudos🎉, and I'm just so touched and joyful that so many people read and enjoyed my last fic. Thank you to all my lovely readers!

I'm currently writing the last chapter of my next fic, which I'm really hoping to have edited and out the door in the near future. Side note, I think I'm going to look into commissioning some art for it, do I have any artist friends who might be interested before I go searching? I'm hoping to find someone whose style matches the vibe of the fic.

Speaking of which, I'd like to share a snippet from this fic for those who are interested!

“Who is she?” Shepard whispered as Jack took a few tentative steps closer to the asari standing by the fountain. “A Spectre.” Garrus growled under his breath, and she felt a shiver run down her spine as her entire body chilled. “It might not be the worst case scenario, but it’s damn close.” Shepard forced herself to stillness, even as every fiber of her being screamed for her to run. If Garrus thought it was safe to stay, then perhaps it was. But it was hard to not begin inching back into the shadows of the alleyway. Somewhere in the back of her brain, a voice chuckled as memories prickled across her skin like needles, pressing into all her most sensitive spots. I win again, Jane.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up.” Vasir announced flippantly, and Shepard looked up as Jack appeared to stiffen. “I gave you my fucking word, didn’t I?” She snapped angrily, and the asari’s amused brow crept further upward. “Whatever. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.” “Now what the fuck do you want from me? Who are you, and how did you get my contact info?” Jack took a step closer, and both began to speak with low voices that didn’t carry well across the space. They listened for a minute or two without picking up anything they could understand. Garrus cursed. “I don’t understand.” Shepard frowned as she looked at him in confusion. “Why isn’t Vasir attacking her? Don’t Spectres try to kill people like her?” Even as the words left her mouth, Shepard remembered the proposition given to her the instant before Saren had thrown her from the rooftop. “Or is Vasir trying to use her to get to us somehow?” Garrus seemed to consider his words before responding quietly as he looked back at her. “Spectres don’t always want to kill them. Sometimes they recruit them instead.” Shepard’s eyes widened in shocked surprise.

“Recruit them? So, you think Vasir wants to make Jack a Spectre?” “It’s possible. Either that, or she wants to recruit her to join Cerberus. It’s impossible to tell at this point.” They both watched as Vasir gestured to Jack, her expression turning serious as the human woman turned and rolled her eyes at something the asari had said. Vasir took a step closer, her smile returning as she placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, causing her to look back up at her with suspicion. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” Garrus murmured as he gestured for Shepard to back up. Carefully, she scootched backwards before slowly getting to her feet, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest again. She’d been training for months, and yet this was the first time she’d truly been within danger’s reach since joining the crew. It made her knees weak, and she worked hard to reign in her fear. Taking one more step backwards, she froze as something clattered to the ground behind her. She turned to see a metal garbage bin on its side, the lid rolling to a stop noisily. Turning, she looked up in horror as Vasir’s and Jack’s eyes landed on their hiding spot. Vasir’s smiled widened like a snake’s as she brought her omni-tool up and said something under her breath. “Run.” Garrus hissed as he turned and took off down the alleyway, Shepard hot on his heels. “Liara, we’ve been spotted. We need an exit. Now!” “On it!” Their footsteps were now the ones echoing off the walls as they sprinted back the way they’d come, and though they couldn’t hear anyone pursuing, they could hear the far-off sound of sirens as they exited the alley into the busy shopping district. “She’s called C-Sec on us.” Garrus stated as he started off down the sidewalk, and Shepard noted with relief the difference in her stamina from the last time she’d followed him at a full sprint through the Citadel. “Do Spectres hold official ranks? Is that why they can command C-Sec officers?” Shepard asked as she caught up to him, the sirens growing ever louder. “C-Sec,” Garrus spat with a sneering flick of his mandibles, “are nothing more than pawns. The Spectres and the GETH move them around the board like game pieces for whatever purpose they need.” The words were said with such vehemence and spite that Shepard blinked in surprise. “Okay, I have an route for you, but you’re not going to like it.” Liara’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and Garrus groaned. “How far?” “You’re going to need to get all the way to the Silversun Strip.”

[sortofanobsession]

In the absence of light (Umbrella Academy Season 2) chapter 1

Author's note: Since people have encouraged me to post more for the WIll o' the Wisp series, here is what I have for Season 2. Unbeta'd Let me know if you want to be tagged in the future parts. I have most of it done but I have to check some canon points to make sure the story works. Enjoy part 1.

@crazycatmaddy

So as it goes, Y/N = your name. Y/N/N = your nickname. Reader pronouns She/Her.

Tag Requests are Open just message me.

Primary Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Female!Reader

Series/TUA Masterlist

Content warning: blood, pain, hospitals, needles, injury, head trauma, concussion, fear, angst

Separated and scared

Pain courses through the Eighth Hargreeves sibling as she hits the cold dark pavement. She groans in pain. She blinks a few times to clear her vision enough to look around. She had no idea where she was or what had happened. Last thing she knew Five was using his powers to send them through time as she clung to Diego for support. She forces herself to sit up. It’s painful and it makes her head spin causing her to retch. She shivered.

“Diego,” she calls out for him, but he isn’t there. She calls louder hoping they were just separated. When no one answers she starts to panic. “Klaus?” Nothing. “Five?” They had been right beside them. “Luther? Allison?” No response. “Viktor...” She knew that one was a long shot. A sob leaves her as she realizes she is alone. “Anyone?” She can see a street. She manages to get to her feet but barely makes it a few steps before the pain and dizziness gets to be too much. It’s unbearable. She grunts as she hits the wall, and her shaking knees give out. But someone must have heard her because she hears shouting and sees blurry faces.

“Someone call an ambulance!” She hears someone shout.

“Miss,” she feels a hand on her shoulder. Her head lulls slightly to the side as she looks up. She reaches out to the person. “Try not to move, help will be here soon.” She lets her hand fall.

“What happened to her?” Another blurry figure asks.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” the first person says.

“Can she talk?” the second asks.

“How should I know?”

“What is her name?”

Before she can answer the sound of sirens draw closer, and people start shouting again. They ask her questions she doesn’t have the strength to answer. She feels people touching her but her limbs feel heavy, like they aren’t fully hers. They ask her how she feels. She manages a single word answer.

“Cold,” she says in a weak tone.

Her vision goes dark around the edges as they shift her. She blacks out when they try to move her.

Y/N comes too with a bright light in her eyes and hushed voices surround her. She looks around and is confused by what she sees.

"Diego?" She calls out. Her voice sounds small and broken. She tries to sit up and falls back as her head throbs, her vision spins, and she gasps in pain.

"Easy, miss," a voice says as hands gently keep her from trying again. "You are in no shape to be moving around."

"Where am I? Where's Diego?" She looked around in confusion. Anxiety clawed at her as the pain in her head increased. "I don't understand." Panic grips her chest like a vice. She tries to call out to her other siblings, but nothing comes out but gasping sobs.

"Doctor!" The voice shouts followed more voices and hands.

She feels the sharp prick of a needle and the world seems to slow.

Consciousness returns slowly the next time. Her limbs are heavy, and she can't seem to move them.

"Welcome back," a male voice she doesn't recognize says. "We were wondering when you would join us."

"Where am I?"

"You are safe in the hospital," he tells her.

"You're a doctor?"

That earns her a chuckle. "That's what the paper in my office says." When she doesn't say anything, he adds. "That's a joke. How are you feeling?"

"Like I hit a brick wall at the speed of…wait…" she looks at her surroundings and it all looks retro. Very retro. The IV in her arm is ancient by medical standards. The lights, even the equipment, is old.

"Yes?" He asks.

"What year is it?"

"What year do you think it is?"

"2019," she says honestly. Earning an initial look of shock, followed by concern as the doctor pulls out a light to check her eyes.

"The trauma to your head must have really been something, that's quite the jump."

"What…what year is it then?"

"1963," he tells her. She begins to panic. They end up sedating her again.

"Luther!" She shouts when she sees a very recognizable silhouette in the hall. She nearly cries when he calls her name before making his way into her room.

"What happened?" She asks him.

"I couldn't tell you if I tried," he admits.

"How did you find me?"

"Newspaper story,” he tells her. “A couple of garbage men found you bleeding heavily and barely conscious. A woman in such a terrible condition, seemingly left for dead. Shocked a lot of people. Headlines were something else."

“Where’s Diego?” she asks.

"Sorry, no mention of him in the article,” Luther answers. "Don't worry about him, okay? You focus on you," Luther insists.

“What about the others?” she asks. “You had Viktor. Did he-”

“Got separated, like you and Diego. No idea. You’re the only one I’ve found so far.” She lets her head fall back against her pillow and takes a deep breath. She can’t let it get to her yet. She still has so many questions.

"Luther, is it really 1963 or did I really fry my brain back at the recital?"

He sighs. "Honestly, it seems like a bit of both. And you're lucky, I've been here for a year."

"Lucky?" she blinks at him. "They were debating drilling a hole in my head to release pressure from bleeding. They didn't expect me to regain consciousness because I was bleeding from my eyes and ears."

"Yeah," he says, and he frowns at how terrible that sounded. "I mean no, but okay, point taken."

"What do you remember?"

"Diego keeping me in the circle, holding Klaus’ hand, so Five could make the jump. Five miscalculated again, didn't he?"

"By a lot," Luther nods. "Then what?"

"Then I hit the pavement hard, everything hurt and I’m pretty sure I puked," she says. “Then some people found me. I’m guessing the guys from the article.”

"What about the Wisp?" he asks in a hushed whisper. "You don't have a glow."

"Remember when I said I had one shot, well I missed, and I think it was just too much damage. I can't summon it. I try and it's like someone is stabbing my brain with a needle, and I can't breathe and-"

"Okay," he reaches out to calm her. "It's okay, we'll figure it out."

"I really did fry my brain," she closes her eyes and rubs them. "Want to know the worst part?"

Luther hesitates but ultimately knows she’ll just tell him anyway. So he asks, "What?"

"I've never felt so cold and empty in my life," she tells him, with a sniffle. "It was shitty and lonely before, Luther, but now I don't even have the Wisp and-" she is cut off by a sob catching in her throat.

And that reminds Luther of how absolutely messed up everything really is. The one sibling he had that didn’t fight him on every little thing. He also realizes that he was more like their dad than he realized. He’d pushed her too hard more than once in the past, well, before they made the jump. They had been desperate but from the look she paid the price for most of it. He can’t help but feel at least a bit guilty about it. "It's okay, we'll figure it out," he repeats, awkwardly rubbing her shoulder to comfort her. It was the least he could do. That and help her get back on her feet. That was something he could do. She leans into him as he continues. "But you have to get better first so you can get out of here."

She nods.

[springdandelixn]

Against the Tide - Part III

Summary: Your life takes an unexpected turn as the leader of the biker gang that took over your town sets his eyes on you.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, physical abuse, graphic violence, coercion, and manipulation. Some may be added in the future but always prepare your flashlights.

Characters: Dark!Biker!James Conrad x F!Reader, Michael from Legion, Billy Lee from Bad Times at the El Royale, and Thomas Sharpe from Crimson Peak (biker au)

A/N: Happy Saturday, Babies! Another character has been added and hopefully, it's the last one haha

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope you guys enjoy!  💙

Against the Tide Masterlist

The unfamiliar ceiling is what takes your attention the moment you wake up. Wooden planks instead of the white paint that covers your bedroom and the lack of rose-scented detergent that Eleanor uses on the sheets. 

You try to move to get a glimpse of your surroundings, to see where you are but you wince and hiss when you turn your head on the pillow, the left side of your face pulsing in pain and you don’t doubt that your eye is swollen shut with how your sight feels lacking as you look around. 

“Slow down.” You recognize the voice coming from the side and a soft gasp of surprise leaves your lips when you see Thomas moving to kneel by the bed. “You’ll hurt yourself.” He adds and reaches over to place a hand gently over your shoulder, keeping you down when you try to sit up.

“Where am I?” You ask, your voice raspy from being unused.

“Drink first. Questions later.” He says with slight authority and you huff out a breath, slowly leaning forward with his aid as he holds a glass of water to your lips, the cool liquid, a relief to your parched throat. 

You lay back down when you finish, watching Thomas fiddle with several bottles and vials that lay on the bedside table. He seems anxious, the smile you usually see on his face when you pass by him on the streets is gone. His dark curls, which he usually keeps neat, are disheveled, hanging over his forehead, almost covering his eyes.

He holds up a syringe and stabs a bottle with it, the crystal liquid filling the cylindrical device and you feel your heart go fast when he faces you. He then rubs a damp cotton on your shoulder and you know what he’s about to do. Taking a deep breath, you give him a nod, inhaling deeply once more through your nose when he pierces your skin, feeling the cool substance instantly run through your veins. 

“That’ll last for another 4 hours.” He says with an air of professionalism when he pulls out the needle and snaps it off the syringe. “It will help you sleep too.”

“Where are we, Thomas?” You ask once again, reaching up to rest a hand on his shoulder. “What happened to Bill?”

He takes his time to respond, seeing his brows knit together as if contemplating what to tell you. You gently take his hand when he lays it on the bed, giving it a light squeeze and a faint smile forms on your lips when he does the same. 

“You’re safe now.” He coos softly. “That’s all that matters.” His thumb lightly caresses your knuckles, the gesture soothing you. “Your father—”

But your anger spikes up and you wince when your jaw clenches at the mention of him. “He’s not my father.” You snap. “He never was.”

“Bill,” He corrects, his voice growing soft as he tries to soothe you once again, giving your hand another squeeze. “He’s been taken away. He won’t bother you any longer. I promise.”

“Taken away? By who?”

“By me.” Fear suddenly runs up your spine when you hear that familiar baritone voice, your eyes darting at the door and seeing James leaning against the threshold, a smirk playing on his lips as he stares at you. “You’re one tough cookie, huh doll?” He chuckles. “I thought you were as good as dead when I took you on my bike.”

“What—why are you here?” You feel frantic and start looking around the room in a panic. “Where am I, Thomas?” You ask in a rush. “Where are we?”

“I am here because this is my home, that is my bed and I was the one who saved you from that man.” James says coolly as he strides towards you, your heart pounding hard against your chest when he stands over you. 

“That’s not—”

“It’s true.” Thomas interjects and you look at him with worry in your eyes. “The boss saved you.”

Boss? You’re taken aback by his words. “Y-you work f-for him?” You stutter. “You joined them?” And you don’t miss his reaction to your question, seeing the shame swimming in his sapphire eyes when he looks at you for a brief moment then looks away, pulling his hand out of your hold. “Does Lucille know? You ask softly. 

“How’s she doing, runt?” James interrupts before Thomas could even answer.

You watch his throat bob as he swallows thickly, his eyes closing then opening before standing from where he knelt, stepping aside to give room to the leader of the gang.

“The pain medication seems to have worked but I gave her another dose just to make sure.” He responds and you feel your heart shatter at how easily he follows orders from this man. 

“And the swelling?”

“It may take a few days before it subsides.”

“Very well. You may leave.” He instructs. “And tell Billy to bring her truck back here.”

Thomas gives you one last look before he leaves the room, your throat tightening when James takes a seat on the bed. He rests his hand on the other side of you and you lean back, pushing yourself further against the pillow when he leans closer. You turn your head when he grabs hold of your chin, but the pain stops you from pulling your face away from his grasp. 

“Who was that man that tried to kill you?” He asks and you can smell the tobacco on him with how close he is. “You must have done something terribly wrong for him to beat you to a pulp. A shame though,” He clicks his tongue, flinching when you feel his thumb graze against the bruise on your cheek. “He ruined such a pretty face.”

You stay silent, closing your eyes as you will him away. You’re grateful that you were saved, that someone has stopped your father from taking your life but you’re thrown off-kilter that it was him that has done so for you’ve never known his group to be the hero kind. And yet here you are, a guest in his home, being nursed back to health and you don’t know if you should be happy or scared. 

“I asked you a question, doll.” His voice is serious and you whine when he pinches your chin a little harder, your eyes opening to face him. “And you’d do well to answer me,”

You gulp as you try to tamp down your fear. “He’s my father.” You respond thickly, your chest tightening from simply acknowledging that fact. “And he thinks I owe him money for raising me.”

“And let me guess, you said no and he beat you.” 

You simply nod at his conclusion. 

“You don’t hold any ties with him?”

Your hands clench into fists and your eyes turn into steel as you look James in the eyes. “He could rot in hell for all I care.” The venom in your voice is no surprise to you but the way James’ lips curl does.

“Very well.” He hums and you shrink back when James leans closer once more. “You rest and I’ll have the runt come back with food for you to take. We can talk again later.” Your eyes widen in shock when you feel him press a light kiss on your forehead, a playful smirk grazing his lips and his thumb running lightly on the edge of your lower lip before he pulls away.

He doesn’t give you any room for questions and stands from the bed. You’re only able to release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he finally leaves the room, leaving you alone. You slump back down on the bed, and for the first time again since James showed himself, you allow yourself to relax. 

So many questions begin swirling in your head as you stare once more at the ceiling. You try to think of an answer to even just one of them but nothing comes to mind, even Thomas failed to give you an inkling of what has transpired since you were knocked out. Hell, you don’t even know how long you were out. 

A sigh of defeat escapes your lips and you choose to push them to the back of your head and give in to your body’s cry for rest. The orange hue playing outside the window is the only indicator you have that it's almost night time yet you know nothing of how long it has been since you’ve been taken into this place.

Worry begins to build at the back of your mind and the easiness you try to push yourself into vanishes. You don’t know where you are, you don’t even know if you’re still within the town limits. Thomas wasn’t even so much as helpful to answer your questions as he too is afraid of the man that he now apparently works for.

This wasn’t how you saw your day ending when you woke up that morning. You hope to be having a good meal with Sammy and Eleanor as they tell you about their day at the clinic. But things just went out of hand and you wish that you forced them to agree with your desire to tag along with them. 

Another sigh leaves you and you close your eyes as you try to go back to sleep and forget all the misfortunes that have happened since Bill slammed his fist down your face. You’re alive, that much you are grateful for, but now you’re indebted to the man everyone dreads. And it only distresses you further than eases you on what his good samaritan act entails because it’s never a one-way streak with James, with what you know about him and his gang, there will always be an exchange. 

I no longer hold a tag list but if you wish to be updated with new fics I release, follow my archives blog, @springlibrary and turn on the notifications.

Divider by @harlequin-hangout

[cosmica-galaxy]

Can you do a one shot FSR when I get to Nevada? please

For those wondering, FSR stands for "Future Soldier Reader" and it merely means that Soldier!Reader is from the far future instead of the WW2 era. An image of FSR can be seen here. Audios: Radio Corruption FSR Digital Sounds --

“Watch the base Deimos. We need you here right now, Deimos. You can’t come with us, Deimos. It’s your turn to guard the base Deimos.” Deimos mockingly mimics the others from a previous conversation as he lets out an angry huff.

“Fuck me, this shit is so boring. I hate being the one on guard duty.” Deimos grumbles, idly sitting outside the temporary base that the SQ crew called home.

Taking another long inhale of his cigarette, he lets out a long puff of smoke as his tired visual cross scans the blank horizon once again, looking for anything to be entertained by.

Anything! A lone bandit to shoot, a zed to kill, or even just some fighting to watch!

But Deimos could only sigh in despair as everything remained the same for the 100th time as his hands subconsciously fiddled with a handgun. Rolling it around in his hands and polishing it to near perfection as a way to curb his everlasting boredom.

It was just like many other nights.

He would sit at the base on guard duty while the others would be out and about running errands and doing specific partner missions together. While the one that got ‘guard duty’ stayed behind and watched their things and territory.

It was necessary, as bandits would take anything that wasn’t too heavy to carry or able to be lifted up off the ground. So someone always had to stay behind to keep their possessions and rations safe. Deimos just hated it when it was his turn to guard.

Despite the boredom, he still had his equipment and weapons to help him pass the time and a radio that he would keep at his side to let him know whenever the others were on their way back. He was even idly listening to some of his favorite tunes that could be heard being quietly repeated over the radio station.

So far…the night was silent and uneventful.

Until.

The sound of his radio breaking up and crackling made Deimos look up in a hopeful manner

. Were the others coming back already?? That was pretty quick if they were, since they have only been gone about an hour! He picks the receiver up, halfway expecting Doc’s or Sanford’s voice to come ringing in through the speaker any moment.

But…no voices came through. Only static.

He waits for a few more moments before his visual cross creases up in confusion. A few moments passed again and Deimos quickly grew annoyed and slapped the device a bit to see if it was merely picking up on static or if it was just malfunctioning. The static continued and Deimos stubbornly tried to troubleshoot the issue. Then, the static could be heard shifting around, as if the radio was browsing through multiple channels and Deimos was getting a bit creeped out as he could hear various words and voices being muffled and broken in pieces as the radio continued to make its unnatural sounds.

After that before even Deimos could even attempt to ‘fix’ the device, the dials on the radio started moving around on their own and the little red needle that was displayed began to randomly slide around in the channel display feed, enticing more eerie sounds to come from the radio. Deimos could only watch the radio go haywire in befuddlement as then the lights that illuminated the base suddenly blink, making the lone mercenary jump. He nervously looks around before the lights of the base flicker again and they finally black out. Since it was nighttime and the building was pretty much in the middle of nowhere for safety, the darkness that suddenly finds itself surrounding Deimos on all sides was nearly pitch black. Deimos feels an uncomfortable amount of fear swelling up in his belly as he hurries to gather up his equipment and pulls out a flashlight from his bag to help him see. Looking around, he could see the base primarily in the darkness and the radio was still letting out its auditory nonsense as he scans his surroundings. Then, he hears something coming from above. A sound similar to thunder cracks over the sky and his flesh almost instinctively gives him goosebumps as the sound reverberated throughout his being. Looking up, he sees the night sky above himself and something goes flying directly overhead…correction, something goes FALLING directly overhead. A mysterious falling object(?) was quickly losing altitude and spinning out as it continued its rapid descent towards the ground. There was a sudden charge of static in the air as Deimos watched the large sparking figure that radiated an eerie green light fall past the warehouse and disappear over some hills nearby. A large resounding BOOM came not moments later before a large cloud of gray dust and black smoke bellowed up from the location of the crash site.

Deimos took a moment to blink dumbly and process what he witnessed before he gathered up his gear to go investigate. He grabs his bag of equipment, his guns, extra ammo, and hurries down from the balcony area. Leaving his radio behind, as it was still displaying unnatural sounds.

He runs through the desert towards where the large trail of smoke was coming from. Both curious and on the alert as he quickly sprints over.

After a few minutes of running, Deimos slows his pace as he comes up on the last hill and once at the top, he curiously peeks over it.

From what he could see, there was a MASSIVE crash trail that dug into the hillside and led towards a large mound of dirt. There was also lots of smoke that covered the area. Thick and black as he could hear sounds of…clicking? Beeping? It sounded so…strange.

Deimos watched for a moment, his gun clenched tightly in his hands as the smoke slowly lightened up and revealed a large object (?) laying in the crash zone. It seemed to be…unnaturally still and Deimos slowly gained the courage to approach.

He didn't get too close, but he was over the hill and was leaning as close as he could without getting into close range to the object.

“What the fuck…??” Deimos couldn’t help but breathe out as he took in the appearance of what laid before him.

It was easily larger than a mag, made of metal, and it looked like a plane-hybrid-like thing with large metallic wings hanging off its back. There were some flickering green lights on it and the smoldering smoke seemed to be coming from the limbs and the large scraped places on the outer metal shell.

Deimos, once more, gains the courage to approach.

It…It looked like it didn’t survive the crash…but that didn’t really mean anything. It was made of metal…maybe it could’ve been simply stunned for all he knew.

Slowly…so agonizingly slowly, Deimos draws closer to the figure. Then, he pokes it with the barrel of his gun, flinching and expecting it to move. But it doesn’t. It merely lays there, nonreactive.

The next attempt, he prods it with a quick poke of his finger. Recoiling again, yet finding the same results. The large being merely lays there in a heap.

Deimos takes a moment to let out a sigh of relief before he takes in the being much more closely.

It was like nothing he’s ever seen before. Tall, long, metallic, winged, and glowing with a soft eerie green light. It felt so…unnatural. Where did it come from? How did it get here?? Deimos finds himself touching and examining the fallen being much closer. Surprisingly, he finds a space on the being’s back that’s popped open, revealing some electrical components and certain alien-like circuitry. Curiosity gets the better of him and he leans over the large being to investigate the open port.

Inside, he finds the wires going to what looked like a spine that…just…looked different?

It was completely made of metal, showing a similar green glow to certain attributes on the being’s body, and was covered with little electrical wirings that had been knocked loose. Presumably from the rough crash landing.

Deimos, rather impulsively, begins to poke his fingers inside of the open panel and uses his dexterous hands to slip the wires back into place. Popping them in one at a time, unaware of the systems that were being reinstated on the ‘fallen’ being.

Click after click, he pops another wire into place and repairs the shaken spine-like device. Once all the wires were back inside and in their proper positions, Deimos lets out a relieved huff, but then jumps as he FEELS the being underneath suddenly begin to move.

He falls off from the sudden moment and large digitized clicking and groaning could be heard as the large alien creature suddenly comes back online, making Deimos crawl backwards as the creature begins to get up.

He watches in fear and awe as the large digital wings are lifted off the ground and it starts to stand up, easily towering over the short grunt as the being steps up to their full height. The screen that covered the being’s “face” lighting up fully in green as it comes alive.

Large digital sounds emanate from its being as Deimos begins to pant in response to being in the presence of such a formidable creature. Holding his gun close to his chest as he scrambles backwards on the ground.

Finally, it notices him.

The screen flickers as they turn towards his position, their tall and intimidating frame easily towering over him as he anticipates an attack.

Yet, it pauses and stares at him and tilts their head. As if it was curious at what he was as well. Well, at least that's what Deimos HOPED it was thinking. He stays trembling on the ground, despite his instincts telling him to get up and get ready for a fight. Still shocked that it was even ALIVE to begin with.

Then something akin to static crosses his headphones, making him wince as the buzzing hissing quickly subsides and is replaced by digital sounds.

He blinks in uncertainty as he feels it…staring at him.

Then, he jolts in place as the visor shoots out a blue light that scans him. He’s frozen in place as the light hovers over him and once it does two cycles, it goes away with a content beep.

The being then stops tilting its head and something along the line of absolute digital garble comes out of its mouth.

“⊑⟒⌰⌰⍜.”

Deimos just sits there for a moment, stunned.

Did…did that thing just SPEAK to him? It didn’t even matter if he understood it or not, it SPOKE. It was unlike anything that Deimos had ever heard, digital and unnatural and mangled with static and clicks.

He simply sits there as it almost seemed to wait for a reply.

“What the fuck…?” Deimos couldn’t help but shakily exhale from his mouth.

The being merely tilts its head in response, almost as if it couldn’t understand him either.

What the HELL did he just get involved with?? -- *FSR translation: “Hello.”

[londonspirit]

It's hard to wrap our heads around the fact that Max's Our Flag Means Death has already reached its Season 2 finale — serving as proof that life for pirates can be just as tumultuous and unpredictable on land as it is on the open sea. Although Stede (Rhys Darby) and Ed (Taika Waititi) saw themselves reuniting in epically romantic fashion on a beach (before having to jump in and help Zheng [Ruibo Qian] swordfight a bunch of foes, that is), their plan to reassemble the crew of the Revenge and take back control of the Republic of Pirates didn't come without some losses. Namely, Ed's first mate and loyal right-hand man — and newly-dubbed unicorn of the crew, Izzy Hands (Con O'Neill) — fell to a gunshot wound, but didn't slip away without some important parting words that Ed himself needed to hear.

Now, the future of the crew is looking divided once more — but on a somewhat happier note this time around, as Stede and Ed are settling down in that innkeeper life while watching the Revenge sail off into the sunset under the command of Frenchie (Joel Fry), and all set to the tune of Nina Simone's swelling and ultimately hopeful cover of "The Times They Are a-Changin'." It's unclear where the show will go next, but ahead of the finale, Collider had the chance to sit down with Our Flag Means Death music supervisor Maggie Phillips to break down some of the best needle drops, from O'Neill's cover of "La vie en rose" to making Kate Bush the unexpected artist of Season 2 to collaborating with show creator David Jenkins and so much more.

COLLIDER: Before getting into some specific episode moments, I wanted to ask you about the teaser trailer for Season 2. Something that a lot of people were talking about was that Prince song that gets used ["The Beautiful Ones"]. Did you all get to decide what song that was in the trailer?

MAGGIE PHILLIPS: We did. That was a song that David [Jenkins] asked me about. I don't know if he asked me about Prince or that song in particular, but that's the first song that David and I were like, “This is the song for the show,” before trailers were even thought about. We tried to get it into Season 1, and there just wasn't a spot for it. I'm a huge Prince fan and have been since high school. For Halloween, when I was 17, I dressed up as a B-side Prince song. It was a song called “Scarlet Pussy.” It was a red cat. [Laughs]

Prince has been kind of off-limits for my whole career. Prior to his death, he was very picky and very expensive, and it was just something I was never really able to place. Then, when David brought it up, it was like two-and-a-half years ago, his estate was still being settled in court, and I was like, “I don't know if we can use it,” and then we were trying to use it, and it didn't work out. Long story short, we tried again to place it in Season 2, and there just wasn't a spot for it. So then, when we were doing the trailers, I don't normally get consulted for those, but David asked me to watch it and asked my opinion. Since then, Prince's estate had been settled, and I had heard that, actually, his estate wanted to place his music. It was perfect, and I'm glad that the first time I placed a Prince song was for Our Flag Means Death. That was a song we're very happy about.

Have there been any big instances where a song doesn't fit somewhere in the season, you can't find a place for it, or where you've tried to get your first choice for this show specifically, and it hasn't been able to happen for whatever reason?

PHILLIPS: No, none that come to mind. I don't think we've had any denials. The big moments in Season 1 we cleared before they even started shooting. Cat Stevens and the Fleetwood Mac were costly, and that meant cutting corners elsewhere, but we got everything we wanted. We weren't shooting for the stars that much. At this point, in Season 2, it's been easier to get yeses, I will say that. Kate Bush in Episode 3, her manager was very specific. Kate wanted to be a part of it, and she was very excited about the use and stuff. The show is so popular, with enough of an audience that people want to be a part of it, which is very exciting.

When I talked to David before the season, he said that he always picks a song and that's the song that's all-encompassing of the whole season. For this season, he said Kate Bush, "This Woman's Work." Obviously, we get it in a very pivotal moment in Episode 3. I wanted to ask you about the conversations around that song and when it was going to be used.

PHILLIPS: It recontextualizes the song and the lyrics to make it work with that scene. That song was written for a movie, She's Having a Baby, with a totally different subject and lyrical subject in mind. The funny story about that song is I advised against it when he told me he wanted to use it. There were two reasons: the more egotistical reason was I had placed it in The Handmaid’s Tale previously, and I hadn't actually pitched that song. I had pitched “Running Up That Hill” for that episode, but the showrunner decided to use “This Woman's Work,” and I was like, “That's a bold choice. Some people are going to love it, some people are going to hate it.”

More importantly, it was right after the Stranger Things Kate Bush phenomenon, and I was like, “Dude, we are going to look like we are copycats, that we didn't have an original idea, and I'm worried about the backlash there.” David knows what he wants, and he was like, “This is our show. It's an original, and this is the right song for this moment.” Taika wanted to use the song and was very attached to the song, too. So it was a Taika/David collaboration, that song.

I remember talking to my team and saying that this could be potentially embarrassing, this song in this spot, but then, I watched it. I read the script. I'm not privy to the conversations about how they're gonna shoot it and what part of the song they're gonna use, but they had obviously figured that all out — because I watched it and really was emotionally charged. I remember getting chills, and I emailed David right away, and I was like, “You were so right. That song is gorgeous there.” I feel like it changes the song. It becomes a new creative moment. That's what's so cool about this job. It's rare, but sometimes you'll put a song to picture, and the song will change, and the picture will change, and it's sort of that movie magic, and I feel like they did it there. So I just was along for the ride and got to eat my words

Speaking of a music moment that gave me chills, Episode 2, that Timber Timbre song, “Run for Me,” bookends the episode and is used in very different contexts with very different parts of the song. At the beginning, it's Blackbeard wallowing and depressed, and at the end, it's this very sinister, dark place. What was the process behind choosing that song and also choosing to use it in two very different places?

PHILLIPS: That was all David. I wish I could claim that that was me. I read it in the script. I'm a fan of Timber Timbre; I put them in stuff years ago. I’ve followed their career since they started, so I knew the song immediately and read the script with that song in mind. No, [that was] just the genius of David Jenkins.

How often are you getting scripts from [David] where the song choice is already in there?

PHILLIPS: It's rare, because typically he asks me before he writes a script. Typically, he’ll email me while he's in the writers’ room. In fact, I'm sure he did about this one because it was so intricately woven into the script, and he's not going to write it without knowing that we can clear it and can afford it. Since I know Timber Timbre, I've used their stuff before, I was like, “Go for it. It'll be affordable and easy to clear.” In that regard, he might have asked me for some [other] stuff, and I'm like, “Stay clear.” Those might be the only denials we've gotten, from me, but there aren't many these days. There used to be a lot more that were hands-off. These days, people want to be seen.

I also love the use of “Strawberry Letter 23” during the raid on the wedding in the first episode. It's juxtaposed against the violence and the terror of the moment.

PHILLIPS: It's such a sweet love song. The lyrics are so innocent and sweet, but it's like the way that Shuggie Otis — it's swagger and cocky and just whimsical and has that strong melody and the instrumentation. That was on one of my playlists for Season 1, and then [David] wrote it in. All the big moments in Season 1 and Season 2 that are on cameras like that, those don't come in post. Those are when he's writing the scripts, so there was never any other song that was attempted for that spot; that was always going to be that song.

With that in mind, what's the song at the end of that episode, where Ed and Stede are both looking at the same moon and having their respective conversations?

PHILLIPS: It’s "Pygmy Love Song" by Francis Bebey. It’s supposed to capture the pain but inherent beauty of true love. It’s romantic but tragic at the same time, like Stede and Ed’s love story —at this point in the story.

I also wanted to about Con [O’Neill] singing “La Vie en rose” in Episode 6. I feel like that's a moment that fans are going to be really excited about. I personally did not know he could sing!

PHILLIPS: I don't know if he knew he could sing either. That was a very involved clearance. It took a long time to clear. Anything that's international, and this was through the French office, takes a long time. Americans are very quick, for better or for worse, and the French office is not. We started clearing that, and it took us months. We were getting to the point where we were like, “Are we gonna be able to use this?”

Then Con was anxious about singing in the first place because it's not something he does normally, and then was anxious about singing in French. So we had to change the clearance because originally scripted, we wanted it to be in French, and going back to English, that actually was a whole other boring clearance story. To get it approved in English was harder, but we got it. Then, while we were waiting for approval, the actor had taught himself phonetically how to do the French version, and we recorded both options, and the French was so effective that that's what we stuck with for most of it.

I love that moment. [Con]'s such a good actor. Oh my god. That episode is just really powerful, and that song works really well Sometimes when you're not a trained singer, but you're an actor, you're acting the singing as opposed to singing it for the aural experience, so it becomes more emotional in a way. You're not worried too much about pitch and getting it right, and so it's more about the character who's singing it. Especially when you're singing it not for a soundtrack but in a scene. They're not singing it for the performance, they're singing it for the cathartic release, and it is going to be more emotional. That's why I think it's so powerful, the way he does it. Yeah, I love that scene.

Do you have a personal favorite song choice from Season 1?

PHILLIPS: My favorite, because I love the way it works, and it's also just for me a personal triumph, [was] to get Moondog in at the end of the pilot. It was such an odd choice. I always like it when I get in stuff that people don't know. I love the Beach Boys — it's a song that many people don't know, “Our Prayer,” in Season 1, Episode 4, where they meet. I love the “Seabird” song by the Alessi Brothers, I think it's the end of Episode 5 in Season 1.

Kate Bush has become one of my favorite moments [in Season 2], as a moment singular to just the show and the story themselves. It was also the visual of Stede coming down as a mermaid. It's just so absurd, yet it’s so beautiful and so powerful at the same time. I don't know how they do it, but they do it. I could watch that Fleetwood Mac scene over and over and over again in the end, the shot pulling back of them laying on the ground, and Stede goes, “You've come back,” and Ed is like, “I never left,” and then the wink. I love that moment so much. This show is just hands down one of my all-time favorite shows I've ever gotten to work on.

Everyone I've talked to about working on this show is having an absolute blast.

PHILLIPS: I also think — I'm always talking highly of David, but he deserves it — it comes from the top down. That dude is super creative and very collaborative and also just kind, and that's rare when you're a showrunner/creator. He makes it such a pleasurable, fun experience with a lot of hard work, which is hard to do — to make people work really hard and challenge themselves, but then they want to do it because it's fun and rewarding, not because someone's cracking the whip.

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

TMAGP6

The sun is the enemy!! Alice is right about everything actually.

(Didn't love her at first but she's winning me over.)

New new hire??

They're always talking about how behind they are. Maybe they should try hiring competent people who want the job instead of randoms who disappear asap.

Oh shit. This is fucked already. Serial killer time!

This rules. Love the emergency call format. What an episode.

'All those teeny tiny holes, bright and sharp' <3

'He stabbed himself on me' oh no he's a needle man!! Hugsy the needle man who's stabbing everyone with his needle hugs!! Ahhh!!

'Is that why you called, to try and scare whoever picked up?' Yeah that is interesting. Almost all of the statements we've had so far have been from avatars (I'm using the old terminology from TMA until we get more info about exactly what's going on in this dimension or whatever). Last time we mostly started with statments from victims/survivors, but maybe if the Entities have only newly arrived in this world then there hasn't been enough time for avatars to really establish themselves yet? So we're getting more statements from monsters than victims because they're still finding their feet and so far haven't been leaving enough surivivors to give statements? That's why the needle man is so upset/frustrated about the cop who answered the phone not being scared. He needs the fear but hasn't mastered getting it yet.

'Guess I'm just not that scared of needles' HELLS YEAH. KING SHIT!! Take your stupid needle hugs and fuck off!!

Oh yeah needle man is freaking out. Started off so good and creepy but he's rapidly lost control of the situation. Feels like a new monster to me.

Now he's like 'hmmm scaring someone who is trained to keep calm and offer assistance in an emergency situation over the phone where he can't see my needle skin is stupid actually'. Now what??

Gotta go get him in person!! That's the way!! Now you've spooked him. Needle man's getting the hang of it.

I hope we hear from Needle Man again :) i think he has potential.

Celia!! From the cult?? Or is this a coincidence?

Mini doughnuts rule

Weird job interviews are such a thing :) love a hiring practice that features desperation as a KPI

'Four weirdos in a basement reading scary stories. Dream job!' Ughhhsuggsuhhghhhssh 🥺😭🥺😭🥺😭😭 don't say things like that without warning me!!!

Big fan of Celia the hardened killer <3

Yeah fuck it. Alice has won me over. She's funny.

Sam and Celia sitting in a tree!! 😭😭

Omg Alice's fake flirting is such a nightmare. This place has warped her.

Stamp facts! with Sam <3

Tall Alice confirmed.

Sam needs to go to sleep. Bedtime for sleepy boys.

YO THAT WAS LOWRI I WAS RIGHT. First character from TMA to also appear in TMAGP? (Aside from my boys in da computer obviously) this is exciting!! Who else might we see in the future?

[aajjks]

TC!dad!JK

"i love you" she whispers

"i love you too"

and jisung watches it all.

jinseoul made sure to watch nami until she was out of his sight and once he hurried back to the golden wing, jisung tailed behind the young girl. when nami figured out jisung was following her, she instructed her horse to gallop faster with hopes of escaping the man who seemed to be catching up pretty quickly to the young girl's steed.

once he was close enough, he drew his bow and arrow and shot at the hip of the horse which caused the poor animal to stumble by the time jisung aimed and fired his second bow at the horse, both the steed and nami went tumbling onto the cold ground. "no no no!!" nami yelled who quickly picked herself up and ran with hopes of escaping the man who shot down her only transportation back home but it was too late.

"dammit dammit dammit" nami curses as she paces back and forth in the lonely cage. she knows this isn't jinseoul's fault and maybe he was right to have instructed her to wait before running off so soon. "SOMEONE LET ME OUT OF HERE!!!! JINSEOUL!!!!" she screams with hopes that someone will hear her but no one does. no one can. after a few minutes of waiting in the lonely cages of the dungeon, the man who shot her horse down instructs nami to hold her hand out for him to draw her blood.

"no, i want to speak with jinseoul! where is he? please, i need to see him"

"it's either you let me draw your blood willingly or i take it by force"

"the king set you up to do this, didn't he? tell your "king" this is not how he should treat his future daughter-in-law who is carrying his grandchild"

"forcefully it is"

"w-wait!! okay, okay, here"

nami says before sticking her arm out in the small pocket area behind the bars.

jisung uses a cleaning wipe to wipe nami's forearm gently, he inserts the needle to draw her blood and once he's finished, he places a bandage in the small area and informs her that he'll return soon with food for her to eat.

"H-HEY!! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME DOWN HERE!!"

"you are here for forced intrusion in the palace and the king will deal with you tomorrow"

this is bad. this is really really bad...

as the sun rises, jisung makes sure to retrieve the report from the physician regarding nami's blood work so he may hand the report to the king who is patiently waiting to hear about what jisung was about to report to jungkook last night.

*knock* *knock*

"it is me, your highness" bows jisung who shuts the door behind himself.

"your highness, i successfully have captured choi nami. your son, the prince, snuck her into the palace walls and gave her a horse to escape back home with but i made sure to stay on her tail and shot down the horse to bring her back without alarming the palace or the prince. she is in the dungeon as we speak and i made sure to take a sample of her blood so the physicians can run a test regarding her physical condition"

AKA, her pregnancy.

jisung hands jungkook the envelope so that he may read it himself.

(alright alina! the ball is in YOUR court. is nami pregnant with jinseoul's baby or not? it's on you, princess 😊)

~🫧

“ wait so this has the results?” Jungkook asks, clearly stunned because in your time, there wasn’t any technology to do tests like this but he feels steam come out of his ears when he gets to know that his own son snuck his enemies daughter into his territory.

What is his problem? Jungkook rubs his temple because he’s getting angry once again but right now he has to read the report along with you. “I’ll be with the queen right now.” He announces, getting up from his chair as he grabs on the paper envelope so tightly

Jisung, bows his head to his king, he excuses himself out of the office so soon jungkook is out of there as well, and he’s practically running towards your shared chamber.

He knows that the girl is captured so he has to make a decision quickly. “YN YN YNNNN!”

Screaming your name on top of his lungs as he enters the chamber, the eunuchs are right outside but he doesn’t care, you must be busy bathing because your children are not up just yet it’s still really early, you are not in your bed so he makes you up his choice of going into the imperial bathroom.

Only reserved for the king and queen.

“Baby!!! Look I’ve got the results- well through this paper we will get to know if she’s indeed carrying my bloodline- NAMI OF COURSE!” He’s breathing hard as he storms in and there you are.

He doesn’t care that you’re naked.

But it is getting a little distracted thing, so he takes his eyes off of you and he takes out the paper.

Of course jisung must’ve taken appropriate Measures to get the most accurate result. You are definitely shocked and he can hear your heartbeat.

You’re both about to find out if you are going to become grandparents or not.

Jungkook takes a deep breath and he tears the envelope and soon he reads the result out loud.

NEGATIVE.

You both read out loud, and soon you both looking at each other with wide eyes, shock and relief washing all over you. “Y-Yn she’s not carrying his child! YN I AM NOT GOING TO BECOME A GRANDFATHER!” Jungkook throws his hands into the air, swaying his waist because he’s so happy.

“S-Sorry.. but now that we know the truth… I’m so relieved. Also, I think you should know that our dear Son snuck in that girl in the palace last night… what am I going to do with him?” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

And most importantly how is jinseoul going to react to the news?

[kishusachan]

Catastrophic [Nightmare]

All these December songs I listen to and then, look at those vintage painting prints by Raja Ravi Varma I got from NGMA, bring my heart at ease but at the same time, make my inner self feel like it's amidst a blizzard trying to yell, still it can't [music playing: Lord Huron - The Night We Met (1:42)]. Drapery veiling me and my vividly painted canvases [Painting: the roar of emotions], those drapes possessing the same vintage color palette as painting prints. And unexpectedly o'clock seemed to slow down (I could hear the tick-tick of the needle). It all commences to make no sense and futurity (tomorrow) seems catastrophic. Cold feet, no slippers, hands in pain, yet scripting it all on the doorway again sharing the same vintage color. Coincidences are queer. An unmoving room, calm lyrics playing yet conceptions/ thoughts sailing on the boat, not even reaching the shore, can't take a minute off the sail and enjoy the view. Can't stop caring as if the whole futurity depends on the nearing dawn-to-darks [thought: or what if it really does?]. Every now and then, the serene song of life doesn't really seem serene, all I hope for now is that "nightmares better not turn into reality". I can't get a second chance in real life to save he...... [Alas! CATASTROPHIC]. -Kishu♡ 1:09am (2/12/23)

[cosmo-watches-movies]

Maigret S2 E1 (1993)

Triggerwarning: Murder, Drugs, Suicide

Crime show about a commissioner called Jules Maigret in france.

Summary: In this episode a stripper reports overhearing a murder plot to the police. Her testimony isn't quite consistent though, the police question her again, but now she denies having heard anything. Shortly after she is strangled.

Spoilers beyond this

In this Michael Sheen plays Phillipe, a drug addict, who later somehow leads the police to the murderer, fun times!

We meet his character after a second murder accurs. An old Countess was strangled the same way the stripper was. She also has needle marks all over his body infering that she was a morphine addict. Police search the house and find Phillipe standing on the edge of the roof, about to jump. Maigret talks him down and questions him about the murder of the countess.

Now this questioning scene is great. Phillipe is full on nervous, sweating, he’d litterally rather be dead than sit in this room with two policemen. The short breaths, the stuttering, how his eyes jet around. And the makeup and hair is the cherry on top. Short scene but effective.

He gives no fucks I love it

The two remaining scenes with him have Phillipe suffering from drug withdrawal and later wandering around the streets looking for drugs. He gets captured again and is shoved into a policecar (screaming so loud you can’t hear the dialouge anymore, well done). It’s all good fun. I hope we see more of Michael's shouting in future performances, I enjoy it greatly.

Do I recommend watching? If you like old timey crime shows definetly. The overall story is fine. Michaels scenes are very entertaining to watch, but he’s not in it very long.