#i just need to get into it and then ill inhale the book i know it

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

logan howlett blurb 18+

hi hi im sorry guys this isnt awesome but i love my wolverine and maybe ill make a part two or perhaps something cool like that if ya like it! also just general warning for smut and some kinky age gap stuff! also. reader is fem and a mutant! word count: 1030 edit: you can now read a full version of this blurb here!

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

"Aw, I'll make it up to you," he smirks, "Promise, spitfire."

[kaiijo]

Hii!! I loved the idea of the spotify wrapped event and I also loved your one piece one shots! Can I request 41 x Law? If you dont write for him you can write for Zoro or whoever you think would be fitting :)

IVY — TRAFALGAR LAW

trafalgar law + Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland content: gn! reader, canon-typical descriptions of violence, references to law’s past notes: thanks so much for your kind words! hope you enjoy this drabble!

request a character and prompt for my spotify wrapped event here!

law is no stranger to nightmares. he’s accustomed to jolting awake, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, chest heaving with anxiety and fear. he tries to remember what his parents used to tell him to calm his racing heart: inhale for four seconds, hold for seven, exhale in a count of eight. 

in. hold. out.

in. hold. out.

law doesn’t sleep a lot anymore, always locked in his office late at night, poring over books about anatomy and medicine and illnesses. it’s mostly because he’s working, the insomnia, but he knows there’s a part of him that’s almost scared to sleep — that doesn’t want to see looped images of dead bodies, feel the heat of erupting flames, hear the sounds of gunshots. 

law watches as you and penguin duck under a round of marine gunfire, diving for cover behind a building. civilians draw their shutters closed. the crew’s gotten what they need from the town, now it’s a matter of getting out. 

you sprint out from your hiding place, penguin hot on your heels. there’s another rain of bullets and law’s stomach lurches when he sees red dribbling down your arm, skin grazed by the bullet. he needs to get you two out of there now.

law lifts a hand. “room. shambles.” he switches you and penguin out for an empty crate and just like that, the two of you are standing safe on the polar tang’s deck. you’re both breathing hard, penguin resting his hands on his knees. you grab at your arm and law can tell that whatever adrenaline has been pumping through your veins is starting to wear off; you wince at the cut on your arm, your palm stained with blood. 

law gets the crew mobilized fast, everyone hustling to get the below deck so the polar tang can submerge. law swiftly and efficiently takes down the remaining marines, heading down below as the submarine sinks below the water.

he finds you heading for the washroom. he calls your name and you whirl around quickly. “captain,” you greet him.

“follow me.” law makes sure his tone leaves no room for argument and you shuffle behind him as he walks to the operating room.

you frown when you enter the room. “captain, i really don’t think my injury warrants an opera—”

he sighs heavily. “i’m not operating. just want to get somewhere more sterile. sit on the table.”

you obey easily and law opens up a cabinet, grabbing hydrogen peroxide, a roll of bandages, and antibiotic cream. he also picks up a sterilized pair of tweezers. when he turns around, you’re already shrugging out of your boiler suit, twitching as the fabric rubs against your wound. 

law approaches, doing is best to keep his eyes on the wound and not on the exposed skin you revealed. when you joined the crew, law had never been more thankful to himself for making the boiler suits uniform. he doesn’t know if he could focus otherwise.

he examines the wound, looking closely to see if there are any bits of debris or fabric stuck in it. when he doesn’t see anything, law soaks a sterile pad in hydrogen peroxide and presses it against your graze. you make a high-pitched, wounded sound that cuts right through law’s heart and he tries his best to tenderly but thoroughly clean the wound. you flinch, gritting your teeth and hissing, “you really must hate me, captain.” 

you let out a pained laugh that lets law know you were joking but your statement still makes him frown. if only you knew just how much the opposite was true.

law sighs again, wrapping the bandage roll around your arm and snapping off a piece, securing it. you test the motion of your arm and law asks, “too tight?”

“no, it’s good.” you hop off the table. “thanks, doc.”

“i’ll need to check that every few days,” he tells you, “to watch for infection.”

“sounds good! guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” you shoot him a cheeky smile and thank him again as you slip out of the room. law is rooted to his spot, feeling heat climb up his neck. you faint scent lingers — cinnamon shampoo and apple soap.

law’s heart skips a beat.

late into the night, law sits at his desk in his office, doing is best trying to focus on the medical text in front of him. he thinks about the smoothness of your skin and the way your eyes curve into half-moons when you smile. he drags a hand down his face. 

he needs to focus. he needs to not think about you. he needs to think about bones and hairline fractures and how fast the human heart can go before it—

law hears footsteps and he knows it’s you, beckoning you in even before you can announce your arrival and knock on the door. you swing it open, smiling brightly at him. gods, he swears you hold moonbeams in your grin.

“right as always,” you say as you close the door behind yourself. 

“do you need something? is it your arm?”

you shake your head. “no, just thought i’d check up on you. knew you’d still be up.”

law offers a wry smile. “no rest of the wicked.”

“i’d agree with you, but you’re not wicked, captain.”

law raises an eyebrow in surprise. he is wicked — it’s a known fact. everything he touches is destroyed eventually. when he doesn’t reply, you continue, “you look out for everyone, you’re a doctor for gods’ sakes.”

“so? bad people can do good things.”

your moonbeam smile falls and your expression turns stern. “you care for us, captain, all of us in a way that no one truly wicked ever would. don’t talk about yourself that way. ”

his heart’s in his throat and he’s desperately trying to swallow it down. “okay.”

you nod firmly and then bring your hand up to hide your yawning mouth. law tells you, “you should get some rest.”

“i came here to get you to go to sleep.”

“don’t worry about me.”

you cross your arms. “i’m not going to sleep until you do.”

law levels you with a stare and you gaze right back, unwavering in your conviction. you two stare for a good few seconds. he can see the way your eyes shimmer. it doesn’t seem that you’re backing down. law breaks the connection and sighs, “fine. let’s go.”

he puts away his books and papers and the two of you head down the hallway. he tries to guide you to your room first but you say, “nope. i want to make sure you actually go to sleep.” so you head for his quarters first. 

you come to his door and you say, “you better get some sleep. a healthy, well-rested captain is vital for an efficient and successful crew.”

“i know.” 

he basks in the comfortable silence that falls over the pair of you. then, you yawn again and he orders you off to bed yourself. you smile sleepily at him, your eyes form crescents again as you do so. “alright, i’m off then.” you turn and begin to walk away. over your shoulder, you call softly, “good night, law.”

he bids you good night and steps inside his room, door shutting behind him. it’s in there, as he’s changing into pajamas, that he realizes. 

it’s the first time you said ‘law,’ not ‘captain.’

your voice repeats like a record in his head. law. law. law. his heart thunders in his chest.

for the first time in a long time, law isn’t afraid to fall asleep. instead of the screaming nightmares he usually faces, he’s met with a different image as he drifts off. 

in a tender, hazy light, law dreams of you.

[knize-strachkvas]

i started reading generation one (again) and I think I finally found out why do u have such a huge reading block.

so. hear me out. i read number 4 right after the movie came out (2011 or 2012). meaning, i was about 12 or 13 yo, just a bit younger than the garde. and as i was reading the books (usually one or two per year) i slowly got older than them but not enoght to really care bc their age is not on your mind when you're reading the books). and when i finished united as one, i could be just under 20 yo.

there is this sentence in ch2 of generation one, "no one faces a combat situation until they're at least eighteen years old...." reading that, i realised where my problem with the book is. in reborn series, all the main characters are minors again. i'm back at the start but this time im not somewhat in a similar age as they are. im too old to read about teens fighting the bad guys and saving the planet. (but god did i love it when i was a teen)

(also I don't remember a shit from united as one. was nigel there? i somewhat remember daniela and caleb but that's it and who am I to do some research lmao)

anyway, i WILL finish the series. don't you worry :""

so my mum called me what is the last book I have from the lorien legacies series because im getting the books as a christmas present from her for about ten years now.

i thought it was just going to be the main series but then she gave me the lost files and I was like okayyyy that's nice (i looove the lost files stories. it's my favourite part of the whole franchise). and when I thought it was over, she somehow managed to find the lorien legacies reborn which i had no idea existed?!?!? (im getting them all in english bc they are not translated into my native language so I don't even know how was she able to get them bc their not easy to find)

so anyway, i read the whole original series and most of the lost files but i got stuck there. meanwhile, my mum gave me a few of the reborn books which are just lying on my bookshelve. generation one was on a scout camp with me twice but i didn't even start the book. and obviously im getting another one :))

to make it worse, i got curious after the call and i looked up how many books they published and WHAT THE HELL IS ASHFALL LEGACY?!??! CALM DOWN YOUR HORSES MY DUDES

[lovedrruunk]

'Mango Letters ♡⸝⸝💌⊹˖➴

Venture (Overwatch) x GN Reader

[Established Relationship!]

Authors note!!!; DID U MISS MEEE??? also...IM SO SORRYYY!!!! BUT I THINK IM JUST GONNA START WRITING WHAT I WANT :((( i realized im sososo bad with requests like genuinely ughhhh!! Ill def do some every now and then tho! Anyways im just clearing out my drafts cuz I’ve come to the realization that this is literally tumblr and my posts don’t have to be perfect lmao, enjoy!!

75 days 18 hours 46 minutes and 3 seconds. That's how long it had been since you've seen your partner Sloan. Being with them you knew how devoted they were to their work and how much it required them to travel but on pretty days like this one when the weathers just right and the flowers are in full bloom and the sunset is the perfect hue of orange, you couldn't help but wish they were by your side.

And although they were thousands of miles away they always made sure to send you physical manifestations of their love.

Through love letters of course!!!

It had been a tradition ever since they had started going on longer expeditions for them to send you things in the mail. So there in your shared closet in a cute little shoebox on the top shelf, laid all their feelings on coffee stained papers. Little crystals the same color as your eyes, maps with all the places they wanted to take you, polaroids of them doing silly faces, and your favorite part, the sweet scent of mango that came with it all.

And so although they weren't by your side, their feelings were. Their longing, their excitement, their thoughts, all in the palm of your hands covered in all types stickers and doodles.

Sitting outside on the porch of your shared home enjoying the calm breeze you smile holding the most recent letter delivered. Inhaling deeply catching the hints of mango as you carefully open it.

Dear Beloved,

It's been so looong!!! I can feel myself aging without you! Hope this letter finds you well! Notice how I used "beloved"? Fancy huh? Arn't I just the most romantic partner ever? (don't answer that.) This is my fifth time trying to write this and it's annoying the crew so this is my last chance before they jump me... It's just so hard y'know!? It has to be perfect. Perfect for you. Is that cringe? That was cringe sorry! I miss you lots and I think about you all the time... You'd love Petra! A camel ate my shemagh... but It's whatever. I'll buy a new one tomorrow, I'll get one for you too so don't worry! Now that I'm thinking about it the days seem to be going by pretty slow and I'm not sure if I like it much. Like I said I miss you a lot and it stinks being away from you for this long. Can't you just book a flight over here? Can't you do that for me pretty pleaseee? That's ridiculous? Okay just say you hate me and never want me to come back, just say you don't love me at all and want me to get stuck in a cave foreva. Just kidding! or am I?... (I am! >ᴗ<)

I like to imagine you’re missing me really bad counting down the seconds till I get back, which by the way I am too so don’t feel the need to deny it! I can see it now… You all shriveled up like a raisin crawling on the floor going “sloannn… sloannnn…” because of how bad you miss me hehe. Just kidding again! It’s probably the opposite let’s be real… I’m going insane without you seriously, I started talking to the hieroglyphics yesterday and the crew even caught me tasting some rocks earlier (sos!!!!)

But speaking of, they’re rushing me to “turn the lights off already” what a bunch of buzzkills ammarite? Promise to show up in my dreams okay? Who am I kidding, you’re always there regardless. Sweet dreams ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡

p.s they really wanna meet you!

p.p.s take care okay? I’ll be home before you know it!!!

Yours truly,

(so romantic!!!)

“(๑´>᎑<)~*”

[ideas-4-stories]

One piece story idea where Buggy has had medical issues since he was a baby, but most of them went unknown, undiagnosed, or not caught early enough to "make a difference".

Buggy with an autoimmune disorder of some kind (leaning to fibromayalgia bc I love projecting on my baby blue blorbo, but also the overactive nerves would tie in nicely with his devil fruit)

Buggy with hypermobility at the very least, possible Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, but it's damn near impossible to properly diagnose due to his DF and the tech available by and large.

On the Oro Jackson, few genuinely believed when Buggy would say something hurt or felt wrong or when he was more foggy headed than usual. Shanks could always read him like an open book. Roger could hear the changes in his youngest's Voice. Crocus did the best he could, but his options were limited and his attention was split. It was Roger, Rayleigh and Shanks who were Buggy's main support system.

Roger absolutely cried the first time Buggy got injured in a big fight and casually relocated a joint with just a soft hiss. That alone had been jarring, but Buggy's response to Shanks' worried question of "are you okay, does it hurt-," left the captain biting back tears. How else is a father supposed to feel when his little boy simply rolls hod eyes and says "not much more than normal"

When Roger disbanded the crew, the plan was to leave the boys on Drum. It had good doctors, Buggy would get more support, and it was rarely an island under siege due to the medical renown it had. They of course did not tell the boys as such, and it was only through a series of wacky events that lead Kureha to meeting them and taking a liking to their sparks. Shanks wasn't the most interested in medicine but he learned some things, specifically first aid and some things to help Buggy. He actually found psychology pretty interesting when he had the patience and attention span to spare. Buggy on the other hand took to it all like a fish to water.

They were there for almost two years when the newspaper was delivered and both boys lost their SHIT when the headline announced the execution of their captain, their father. Kureha sent them off, arguably with more supplies than they needed, and gave them her Denden number to reach her if they needed anything at all. She couldn't go with them, but she refused to send them truly alone.

They have their fight in the plaza, but it doesn't end with a monumental break up. They meet back up the next day, and they bite the bullet together and talk.

They take some time to come to a decision moving forward.

They ultimately decide to go with the co-captain avenue but with careful misdirection and smoke and mirrors. To the world at large, they will seem completely independent and unrelated. In truth, they will be leveraging their independent skills to further themselves and each other. The brains and brawn, as it were.

It works out in their favor for a good deal of time until the cluster fuck that is marineford. Secrets are out, identities revealed, and Buggy is having 6395716 panic attacks stacked up like Legos.

He and Shanks roll with it as best they can, trying to salvage what they feasibly could.

Two years later, Cross Guild is formed and begins rolling. Buggy's crew knows of his illnesses/disabilities, but he has a strict set up to address them. It's on a need to know basis.

Crocodile and Mihawk just so happened to swirl in like a hurricane and never got the memo until there was an attack on the island.

Somehow, someway, Buggy got absolutely soaked in sea water, but he's still fighting, knives in hand, bobbing and weaving with a trail of blood in his wake. It's as he pivots to lunge that Mihawk catches sight of him suddenly paling, a minute flinch, but beyond that, Buggy doesn't react, instead throwing the knife, reaching down and making a strange move at his knee before he cringed, took a sharp inhale, and dove back into the fray.

Upon asking why, hours later in the meeting tent, the swordsman and mafioso present blink when Buggy shrugs and says "oh, my knee cap tried to dislocate. Couldn't disconnect with the sea water so I had to push it back by hand."

"Pardon?"

"Hm?" Buggy glances up from where he's brushing some dried remnants of the battle from his locks, one eye shut against the debris. "What?"

"What caused the injury? I did not see any attacks to your legs in the chaos."

"Oh, it just happens sometimes," Buggy says casually, as if this were knowledge the other two ought to know. "I'm used to it."

They are not sure what to do, nor how to respond. They let it rest for the time being but they do keep a closer eye on their chairman following this.

They learn Buggy is rather adept at working with and around his unusual burdens, either disconnecting a joint or alleviating pressure on it until it can be addressed, even chop-chopping the offending area back to the proper place. They catch sight, now that they know to look, of hints of braces, wraps, the way Buggy occasionally presses his iced drink to a knee, a wrist, on an ankle in movements familiar but exceedingly casual, never belying their true purpose.

It is then that the two dark haired men realize there is much more to their clown than they first assumed.

I agree that overactive nerves would tie nicely with his Devil Fruit. Buggy having medical issues that went unknown, undiagnosed, or wasn’t caught early enough would make sense after all if the HC that Buggy was with the Roger Pirates as a baby or even if he wasn’t with them during his infant stage. These are pirates, how are they supposed to know that they need to look for things that could be wrong with the two babies they now have?

I’m sure some of them have things that have went unknown and undiagnosed. Anyway, back to Buggy, I had to look up Ehlers Danlos Syndrome because I didn't know what it was. I agree that it would be nearly impossible to diagnose properly because of no good tech around, as well as the fact he is on a pirate crew, I assume for the most pirate crews they don't stick around island for very long. I HC that Buggy swallowed the Bara Bara Fruit when he was nine.

Poor Buggy, I want to think that more people on the crew understood that Buggy has problems but didn’t how they could help him. Because acting like Buggy was fragile would make Buggy become angry because kid doesn’t want to be treated like that.

Poor Roger, having to watch that without saying anything, with all the other times it happened. Then after he disbanded the crew. Leaving them on Drum Island is a good choice and it makes sense that they didn’t tell the boys (I feel like they don’t tell the boys many things that should of been talked about, but this might be a good thing they didn’t say anything about. But who knows)

I wonder what the series of wacky events were to the meeting between them and Kureha? To me, they seemed like it there in this AU.

I think anyone would lose their shit if they see someone, they really love is getting murdered in front of so many people. I feel that Kureha only let them go because she knew they would go anyway, and this way let’s her give Buggy and Shanks the supplies they need.

I believe that with all the stress and pain of losing someone they hold dear in their hearts. I think Buggy wasn’t in the right mind set nor was Shanks in a way. Anyway, Love that they came back around to talk about it. I think the smoke & mirrors co-captain route they have… or is it more like Buggy and Shanks are allies? They have their own crews, but they still have each.

Then Marineford happened, poor Buggy and Shanks. I hope in this AU that Ace lives, but it was never stated so I don't know.

The idea that Buggy's crew knows about his illnesses/disabilities makes me feel that his followers would say he so strong to overcome them or we just talking about Buggy's crew from East Blue. Then yeah, those folks definitely know about his illnesses/disabilities.

Mihawk and Crocodile coming in without any knowledge and it took a battle to find out. I can see Buggy is nonchalantly about it as Mihawk did a doubletake when he said ‘Pardon?’ Crocodile did a doubletake too, because with those two didn’t know.

Once Crocodile and Mihawk know about what’s going on with Buggy, they see that the signs were always there. It’s just they didn’t paid attention to those signs, but they are.

[mxxnlightwriting]

Writemas Day 2

Thanks to @agirlandherquill for hosting this challenge!

Tari's Note: Oh, I had so much fun writing this yesterday, and I'm doing it again today because now my brain has ideas™ and I must write them down (I've missed this feeling). This one is technically a continuation from Day 1, but it's a different POV so you don't need to read Day 1 to enjoy this one (I'm trying to keep them all connected). Also, please excuse any typos! I’ll be writing these directly here so they’ll have minimal editing. Thanks for understanding.

Writemas Day 1

Prompt: The smell of a bakery Synopsis: Rae's day goes from bad to worse when she realises everyone in her town already knows her ex is back in the old cabin. Genre/age group: adult contemporary (I’ll turning this into a sapphic romance just so you know) Warnings: Swearing (once) Word Count: 0.7k

Rae dug into her third slice of blueberry pie of the day, ignoring the worried glances her brother and best friend threw her way. She was grateful none of them asked her what had gotten into her because if one of them asked, she'd probably combust right on the spot.

Just thinking about it made her nostrils flare. Fourteen years. Fourteen years of no messages, no phone calls, no contact. After fourteen years, she should've been over this, no? She should be a well-adjusted woman in society, not someone who apparently couldn't function at the sight of her first love.

You're so embarrassing, Rae, she thought as she shoved some more pie inside her mouth. She leaned back on the leather booth, crossing her arms over her chest, taking in the slow movement of her brother's bakery. Most people stopped by to get a final order or to take some of the remaining pies for dinner.

She inhaled the sweet scent of baked goods and tried to relax in the only place in this town that didn't remind her of Emily. At the thought of her, she massaged her temples, trying to get the image of her at the door out of her head.

"Everything alright?" Ginny asked. She had her curly hair in a low ponytail, her golden skin flushed from the heat of the bakery. "Do you need another slice?"

Before she could answer, the bakery's bell rang as Mrs Mueller stepped inside at a fast pace, her eyes wide.

"Henry!" she yelled as she walked towards the counter, out of breath. "Where's Rae?"

"He's in the kitchen, Henrietta," Ginny said, looking at the woman over her shoulder. "And Rae's here."

Some of the panic faded from the old woman's features and she joined Rae in the booth, her eyes glancing at the empty plate and then at her.

"So you already know," Mrs Mueller said, nodding to herself. She patted Rae's hand, hers cold from the weather outside. "You have nothing to worry about. I'll talk with my book club friends and we'll find a way to send her away. Now that her grandfather's dead, they'll probably sell the property anyway!"

"Henrietta!" Ginny said as if she was reprimanding a small child. "Don't speak ill of the dead!"

"I'm not speaking ill of the dead! I'm speaking ill of Emily. That girl is trouble."

Tell me about it, Rae thought. Whenever Emily was around, trouble was soon to follow.

"Just let her be," Rae eventually said, trying to seem casual about the whole thing. "And I doubt they'll sell the property."

She stood from her chair and grabbed the plate from the table, disappearing into the kitchen area, where her brother sang under his breath to the radio as he finished cleaning the counters.

"What did Henrietta want?" he asked, lifting his eyes to look at his sister. "Was this about the furniture in the driveway? I told her you'd take care of it."

"I took care of it." Rae dropped her plate and fork in the industrial sink. She gripped its surface and pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to speak the words out loud. She couldn't. "Emily's back."

Saying her name out loud was like someone punching her in the gut. Seeing her in person was ten times worse.

"Oh," was all Henry said for a while. "And Henrietta was here to tell you that, is it?" Rae nodded, feeling her brother's gaze on her. "But you already knew because she was the one responsible for the furniture in the driveway. Wasn't it?"

Rae looked at her brother. He nodded in understanding when their eyes met.

"I told her it was nice to see her again which was obviously a fucking lie." Rae let out a bitter laugh. "And now Mrs Mueller is set on telling her book club friends her master plan to drive Emily away from town."

"And do you want that?" he asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Rae leaned on the sink and hugged herself, keeping her eyes on her brother as she said, "What I want doesn't matter, Henry."

"Right," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Keep lying to yourself, sis. You won't get closure that way, though. And we both know you're in dire need of it."

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© mxxnlightwriting 2024 All Rights Reserved. Copying, reposting, translating and/or modifications of my work are strictly prohibited.

[siriuslygay1981]

Word count: 1,818 | Jegulus

Regulus was a weak weak man, how he became so feeble minded, he'll never know.

His eyes unconsciously trail over to the mop of brown hair that rests against the arm of the sofa. It had to be uncomfortable, he was sure the gryffindors neck would hurt for the rest of the day. He resists the urge to be soft and go get a pillow or something ridiculous.

Regulus slowly put his book down, not bothering to save his page, he didn't see the point. He probably wouldn't be back to finish the book anyways, which was a shame he had just gotten to the part where she rejected his proposal.

"You are mistaken, Mr.darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which i might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner…” he had murmured the words softly as he read it, careful not to speak too loudly with the faintly snoring boy next to him.

James had long since fallen asleep, his once gasping breaths now slow and even. James had somewhat acted how he expected when discovering the wretched truth..but he had surprised him in still staying. With the dark mark he knew he wouldn't make it out of this war alive..no matter what side won because he would not stay by the mad man he once idolized and the light side, as many called them, would surely never accept him, nor he them if he was honest. It was too much to get into so late in the war, he had chosen his side and he had no choice but to stick with it. He couldn't just switch sides as if this was some silly kids game.

He knew how the tattered book ended, he had read it a total of three times already. He remembers the first time, the late nights spent under his covers behind the closed curtains of his bed. Night after night he spent reading the pages, enraptured by the words that glided right off the page and pulled him in.

He remembers all the feelings that came with it.

The nights spent reading it had him longing for something, at first he couldn't place it but he knew what it was the second time around, the realization making him almost physically ill. He wasn't alone the second time through.

James would softly read the words to him as he swept his fingers gently up and down his arm leaving goosebumps behind and an aching burning need deep in his bones.

James didn't know how much power he had over Regulus, it was absolutely terrifying.

Sometimes it felt like he was bursting at the seams with the affection he held for the older boy

One night, as James was reading a chapter aloud, his hand absentmindedly running along his chest, he started to get closer to a certain passage.

Regulus’ already thumping heart seemed to speed up and stutter, his ears tuning into the deep voice.

He wasn't sure if he could handle james saying these next words, he gulped and looked up to the gryffindor who turned the page softly and continued. He glanced down at Regulus with a small smile, his voice lifting slightly.

Regulus let his eyes trail over the exposed skin before him. He trailed his eyes across the bump in his nose, his long eyelashes, his full lips, slowly trailing down to his throat and back up to the brown eyes he knew so well. He inhaled the scent that surrounded him, some earthy scent that always seemed to cling to the boy, like damp earth, sleekeazy’s, his cedar scented body wash.

His hearing tuned in again as if it knew the words were coming up

“You have bewitched me body and soul,-” he could hear James’ breath hitch as he read the next words, his mouth opening and closing before he continued to the next line

“and I love” he sounded breathless and Regulus could not for the life of him take his eyes off of him, his whole body attuning to James. He could barely exist in the same room with the stupid lovely boy, his heart raced, his mind blanked…he was a fool. A fool who just like the rest of Hogwarts, fell for the mischievous grin and large ego.

“I love, I love you.” his voice was husky and Merlin and Morgana both, Regulus was gone. He felt like he would physically spontaneously explode. Like all this…this thing inside of him was going to burst and he felt so overwhelmed, so full, he felt as if he was bathing in sunlight, the heated rays warming his body and heart. Anything James wanted…Regulus would do.

“And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” James paused, his eyes not leaving the book.

It was silent, tension filling the air.

Regulus slowly reached up for the book and immediately let it fall out of his hands and onto the floor, his body twisting as he sat up and removed his head from James’ lap. James frowned at the loss of contact but he zeroed in on regulus as he sat on his knees next to him.

Regulus reached forward his finger brushing against James’ cheek, like James couldn't help it, he sighed in content a shiver wracking his body.

Regulus let a small smile grace his lips, he never got over how responsive James was.

He cupped his face and rubbed his thumb over the beauty mark near his eye without really thinking about it.

James’ mouth parted, his eyes opening and staring at Regulus as if he was the only thing that mattered. He's sure neither would have noticed if the world was ending around them.

James leant forward, one hand coming up to grasp Regulus’ wrist

“Reg-”

He cut his memory off abruptly, he couldn't do this now. He softly lifts James’ feet off his lap and stretches.

He makes quick work of his last ends to be tied up. His mind drifted away and back as he wrote. He had to force himself to focus, begging himself to just get this over with. Dwelling on it longer than he had to only brought pain.

To the Dark Lord he starts, his hands trembling terribly.

I know I will be dead long before you read this. He resolutely didn't look at the sleeping form of James, he didn't dare let himself think of anyone else either.

but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.

Strong all consuming rage filled him. He had to do this. He was doing it…but he still hated the bastard. Regulus forces himself to calm down before he continues to write

I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

Gulping he dips his quill in some more ink before signing off.

R.A.B.

Angrily…he hopes the dark Lord figures out it was him….beneath that he hopes he never finds out.

He lets the note dry before shoving it into the fake locket and standing up. The heavy metal sets against his chest as he inhales a shaky breath. It burns against his skin, his heart thumps wildly.

“You have bewitched me body and soul” he murmurs as he kneels in front of the sleeping boy's form. He brushes a strand of hair out of James’ face, his heart aching as James’ nose scrunches up

“And I love…I love..i love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.” he murmurs the last bit almost sardonically

He stands up, ready to leave and meet his end-

A hand grabs his wrist as he turns causing him to gasp at the unexpected contact.

“Are you really trying to leave after confessing your love to me?” a incredulous raspy voice asks

Regulus purses his lips and begs the blush on his face isn't noticeable

“I don't know what you mean Potter” he almost cringes at how obvious he is.

He clears his throat and turns back to the now awake man

“Let go, i have places to be..” he tries to sound stern but it sounds weak to his ears

“No, i don't know what you plan on doing but I know you…and I know that you are about to do something stupid..i also know you will not be going alone.” James stands up slowly his hand never leaving Regulus’ wrist

“I'm not taking you with me, James.” he whispers

He keeps his face blank, his eyes hard, he tries to sound stern. His voice wavering betrays him though.

He's afraid.

James softens slightly but shakes his head and grabs both of Regulus’ hands

“I'm not giving you a choice. You're not going alone”

Regulus glares at James and tugs his hands free, suddenly very angry.

“I'm not giving you a choice James Potter, i'm going.” he gulps at James’ expression and barely stops himself from reaching out

“Kreacher will be with me, i won't be alone.” he adds because he's weak

“Not enough-” James says harshly “That's not enough. I'm coming with you.”

They stare into each other's eyes neither wanting to back down. Regulus scowls, his eyebrows pinching together. James stays still, determined not to lose. Regulus was surprised at James' determination, usually he would have given up by now. Giving into Regulus’ harsh gaze, not wanting to push Regulus away or make him upset.

Regulus goes over a dozen stunning spells in his mind as James stares at him both pleadingly and sternly He crumbles for a moment, his face scrunching up in despair.

“Please.” he whispers hoarsely

Regulus is a terribly weak man. His walls crumble to the floor, his heart clenching painfully. Against everything he knows he should do…he wants to agree. He likes to think it took him longer than a split second before answering.

“Ok”

the word is out of his mouth before he can fully decide but by then it's too late. He's sure it would've ended this way no matter what he did, James potter made him a weak man and it shows. Mostly when that blinding smiles hits regulus and his knees almost give out

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes glued to the brightly smiling man in front of him.

“But if you don't do as I say…I'll stun you and tie you up before leaving you in the forbidden forest-” he spits out viciously

James just brushes one of his curls out of his face tucking it behind his ear, a soft smile on his lips.

“Alright..” he murmurs

His hand stays there unreasonably long, neither notice.

[wifipunx92]

CyberPunk: Made in Night City #4

Daggerz:"Guess whos decided to rear their pretty little face back into my life?" *Johnny looks over at V with a smug look Johnny: "Lemme guess, has Judy finally forgiven you and come back into your life?"

Daggerz: "No you gonk! We both know that bridge has been burned. Shes not coming back... But that red head bitch Rachel for some reason messaged me with a acting gig. Pretty sure she also wants to fuck me, fucking fine ass corpo bitch. We'll see how that goes."

Johnny: "Oh? You in front of the lens? What are the odds. Y'dont seem like the acting type. *chuckles* What's the gig consist of?"

Daggerz: "Didnt get much into detail. Just said they wanted to film a modern take on the Akira incident from 2019. Said i'd be perfect as one of the leading roles. Most likely Kaneda." (*Gender roles dont exist in this universe.*)

Johnny: "Shotaro Kaneda. Son of a bitch that kid was. Got into it once with him and his crew when Samurai did a far east tour way back when. Kid was a punk with balls of chrome. Sad what happened to him and his choombas. Such a fucked up way to go out. Governments been tryna cover that shit up for the past 7 decades."

*V pulls out her pack of smokes. A Synnabis spliff seemed perfect for this moment. She put the spliff to her lips and sparked it up taking a big drag on the first inhale.

Daggerz: "Why am I not surprised that you had a run in with Kaneda. Is there more to this "Tall tale" or was it a brief encounter."

*She says as she passes Johnny the spliffy. He puts the butt of the filter to his lips and takes a quick drag, inhaling and holding in the smoke for a few seconds before exhaling.

Johnny: "Kid was a piece of shit gonk. Him and all his chooms. But like i said, they had balls. We were playing this local dive bar in shibuya. We were 5 songs into our set when this group of gangoons walked into the bar starting shit. Yelling, throwing shit at the stage, being obnoxious just like kids do. Got to a point where one of them chucked something at the stage hitting Kerry in the forehead almost knocking him out cold and of course Kerry being the hot head he is jumped up, walked over to them and decked the kid who threw the shit at him. Me, Kerry, Nance, Denny and Henry ended up squaring off with these dickwads which of course led to the promoter cancelling the rest of our set, kicking everyone out and closing up shop for the day. Kid disappeared after pulling a dagger out on me and i aint heard of him since. Not until the Akira incident." *He takes another drag before passing the spliff back to V.

Daggerz: "Fuck, thats some heavy shit Johnny. I know youre prone to trouble but damn. Getting into it with one of the kids from the Akira incident? Mind officially blown. Where were you when Akira struck again?" Johnny: "Cant really say or remember. That whole thing was a blur. Didnt hear about the incident until days later. Maybe i was spiraling out inna drunken rocker state. Who knows. But ill tell ya one thing, something about it bothered me. As if... I lost someone close to me or whatever. Strange cause that night was the only time i ever met that kid. Guess its just weird meeting a person who you think is insignificant in the world then all of a sudden theyre a big deal, front page news type shit know what i mean?" *V passes the spliff back to Johnny.

Daggerz: "Maybe you knew one another in a past life? Ooooor...maybe in a parallel universe you two are close chooms?

*Looking into the distance Johnny takes a long drag of the spliff and passes it back to V.

Johnny: "Maybe V. World works in weird mysterious ways. Who knows. All I know is the gonk went out trying to save his friend and that in my book deserves the upmost respect."

*V looks at Johnny and gives him a little smile

Daggerz: "Stop the press! Is Johnny Silverhand actually showing emotion and compassion for another human?!? Holy hell!😱"

Johnny: "Hey fuck you! I can be sentimental when needed. Not always a cold hearted shit. I can show emotion when needed." *He said laughing.

Daggerz: "Riiight, right. Okay Mr. Sentimental lets go. I gotta go down to Fourth Wall to meet up with this woman so she can tell me more about this shit. Maybe even get laid in the process."

Johnny: "Heh, we shall see. Probably gonna take an army to hold that bitch back from jumping on your meat stick."

*V shakes her head and laughs softly. Daggerz: "Alright shit for brains lets go."

[checkoutmybookshelf]

...Are We the Bad Guys?

Guys...I was going to be good. I was going to finish a chapter last night and call it good and go to bed. That...SUPER did not happen, because the last few chapters of this book happened which meant that I was just fully up half the night finishing it and I HAVE THOUGHTS. So with that for preamble, let's talk Fourth Wing.

THIS IS A SPOILER-IFIC REVIEW BELOW THE BREAK because I wanna talk about a couple things...so be warned.

Ok, so the TL;DR on Fourth Wing is that it's a romantasy in a military training camp for dragon riders that is full-on enemies to lovers with a protagonist with a disability that reads like Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). It's also very good, I basically inhaled the book around work and life. I also have THOUGHTS about this book.

Violet Sorrengail is our disabled protagonist, and the daughter of General Lillith Sorrengail was supposed to be a scribe, but her mother basically forces her into trying to become a dragon rider, with everyone from Vi's older sister Mira to her childhood best friend and fellow trainee Dain Aetos think will kill her because she is--as everyone in the damn book describes her--fragile. She obviously does not die, but put a pin in Dain for a second, because we're coming back to his ass after we talk about Vi and how disability was handled in this book.

I am...objectively kind of torn on how this book handles Vi's EDS. On the one hand, I am very much here for getting rid of the idea that a disabled protagonist doesn't belong in any type of story you want to tell, up to and including the ones that involve "graduate or die" styles of training camps. Disability is everywhere, and I am so, so very cool with disrupting the stereotype that disabled protagonists either cannot be in these stories or have to die at the end--and Vi is gloriously alive and kicking at the end of the book.

That said...there are like...hard ceilings and absolute limits on what you can push a body to do, and Vi...kind of doesn't hit EDS-related hard limits in a significant way. Some of that is because she works smarter not harder (poisoning her challenges is flippin' inspired), but some of it is also framed in the book as Vi exercising to strengthen her joints and being creative in executing tasks and challenges, which are great and can absolutely alleviate some symptoms. But then she also refuses the magical healing that has kept her functional (not cured, which I appreciate, just functional) for most of her life to avoid the appearance of weakness. So for someone with a chronic illness that also involves a HELL of a lot of pain and joint issues, this read to me like a combination of toxic strength and refusing actual medical care in favor of like...exercising the symptoms away? And while exercise can absolutely help, it being the only thing combined with bailing on medical treatment read really toxic. I feel like a combination of sneaky care hidden from the other cadets and the exercise might have been less toxic feeling. I know that everyone's bodies are different, and some people can probably manage with exercise, but I do not love the vibe I was getting of "sheer grit and exercise can completely replace medical assistance in managing physical disabilities so you don't look weak to people around you."

To be VERY clear: Needing medical assistance to function has no moral value. Needing it to have the best possible quality of life has no moral value. And I don't love when stories put a moral value on physical strength without medical intervention.

I did appreciate that Vi simply could not physically hold her seat on her dragon by brute strength alone, and that she was accommodated with a saddle with actual straps. And the book does go out of its way to highlight that Vi's moral courage and intelligence are ultimately more valuable to the people and dragons who love her than her physical ability. I just could have done without the firing her mender to avoid looking weak.

And this is where we remember that we put a freaking pin in Dain Aetos, because JFC I have not wanted to reach into a book and punch a fictional character as much as I have Dain in a LONG time. Dain spends the ENTIRE book cutting Vi's confidence out from under her because he's convinced she is too physically weak to survive in the Rider's Quadrant and that he's going to have to watch her die. He says this after she survives the parapet. He says this after she survives having her shoulder ripped to shreds in the physical assessment. He says this after she survives the Gauntlet. After she survives Threshing. After she has BONDED NOT ONLY THE BIGGEST MOST BADASS DRAGON IN THE VALE BUT ALSO A SECOND ADORABLE DRAGON. Dain literally has zero faith in Vi's abilities and instead of helping her survive, he actively gets in the way of her physical and emotional growth. I wanted to PUNCH this man in his smug-ass paternalistic fucking face.

And no, y'all, the whole "I would be absolutely destroyed if I had to watch you die because your body can't handle the environment" is in no way an excuse or even acceptable. It's paternalistic and shitty and moves the focus from VI'S ACTUAL LIFE to his man pain. We don't fucking have that in this house.

In fairness, the book also calls Dain out on this. Everyone from Xaden to Tairn spends the book bitching about how Dain isn't helping Vi. The fact that it's mostly the men around Vi bitching about how they're affecting or not affecting her life and choices isn't my favorite thing either, but I'll take the book calling out at least some toxic paternalistic bullshit, especially where it comes to wrapping girls with disabilities in bubble wrap and trying to put them on shelves against their will.

This also facilitates Dain and Xadens' narrative chiasmus (crossing over). Dain starts as the childhood best friend that Vi wants, and ends up worse than anything he ever accused Xaden of. Xaden, of course, starts out as the literal black-hatted villain with every reason to want to murder Vi himself and ends up as the boyfriend. I did appreciate that little narrative peice, because it was pretty well executed throughout, and Vi having feelings about it was very fun to watch.

The other thing about this book that was stunningly well done was the worldbuilding. Rarely do I see "oh shit, we're the bad guys" done this well, and with this many dragons. It was a ton of fun, and I will absolutely be picking up Iron Flame when it comes out in November. I cannot wait to see what's in store for Vi, Xaden, Dain, and Navarre in general.

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

future ghosts (pandora, evan, barty)

a/n: learning how to write these guys! for this one i’ve got pandora in a sort of cassandra-esque sitch - her “episodes”, as barty calls them, are moments where she’s attacked with visions of the future, of her friends meeting their untimely deaths. but she’s unable to speak about them, and so cannot warn people. thus ensues angst!

‘Evan!’

Barty rockets down the stairs two at a time, dark hair bouncing wildly as he legs it into the common room. His entrance causes a bit of a stir, and a few curious heads turn away from their conversations or look up from their chess boards to see what all the fuss is about. Evan, however, has not noticed him. Or rather, is pretending not to have noticed him. Barty swears under his breath - ‘stupid fucking bastard’ - and marches across the room to grab his elbow. Evan glares at him, tries to writhe out of his hold. But the grip just gets tighter, and he’s hauled viciously away from his book and off up the stairs to their dormitory. Barty only stops them when they’re just before the door.

‘Listen, I know we’re fighting, and we can go right back to it immediately after this, or if you want I’ll blow you so you feel better. But right now I need you to ignore all that and help me. It’s Pandora - she’s had another one of those fucking episodes, a proper bad one. Everything I do seems to make it worse, but… you’re her brother, you know? Just do something, Rosier. She’s not in a good way.’ Evan’s pale gaze takes in Barty’s eyes, flecked with concern, and then his hands, fidgeting helplessly at his sides. He takes a deep breath, swallows thickly, and nods.

‘Let me in.’

The room is shadowy in the evening light. His eyes take a few seconds to adjust, and for a moment he can’t even see her, only hear her. Hoarse, heaving sobs, halfway between weeping and vomiting echoing from the corner of the room. They sound wet and deathly, like they’d be more at home in a hospital ward for the gravely ill than in the body of a teenage girl. It’s disgusting. Then she comes into focus, and it’s worse than he imagined. Her frail frame is sprawled out on the floor on the far side of the room, limbs strangely limp. Her ribs surge sporadically as she cries, and it seems as though with each new wave of gasping breath they come closer to cracking. Horrified, he rushes to his knees beside her, searching for some way to help. If only he could see her face, he thinks, maybe she would… maybe she would notice him. Come back to him from the horrors she keeps housed in her head. He tries to turn her over, and ends up with her awkwardly cradled in his arms. It doesn’t really have the effect he’s hoping for. As soon as she registers his face, she starts bawling even more fiercely, obviously distressed. Her mouth opens and closes as if she’s trying to scream something at him, but her vocal cords aren’t cooperating and the sound that should be crawling its way out of her throat is entirely absent. It’s just hiccups, and choking on her own saliva, and anguish. Evan’s at a loss. He tries to content himself with holding her, tries to comfort her like he imagines he ought to. He leans his head numbly against the cold, harsh reality of the wall and waits desperately for his sister to be okay again.

Somewhere along the line, Barty comes to sit with them too. He looks about as terrified as Evan feels, but he does sit with them. And so it’s just the three of them. Well, just the two of them really - Pandora’s not properly there, not yet. But she does start to calm, after a while, very slowly. Her eyes begin to lose their faraway look and her body seems more her own, less like it’s being tortured by some cruel, ghostly puppeteer. Evan’s arms start to ache, so he moves her as gently as he can manage and props her up so that she’s sitting more independently, with just the wall and his side keeping her body upright. He makes eye contact with Barty over her head, and inhales shakily.

‘Do you know what started it?’, he asks. His voice is weaker than he wants it to be.

‘Haven’t got a clue. I came up here to… well, to avoid you, and she was just here. I think she could feel it coming on, or something, and I guess she didn’t know where else to go.’

‘Did she say anything?’

‘She told me she was sorry. She said… she said she was very sorry, for what I don’t know, and then she collapsed.’

The silence swoops back into the room icily after that. Pandora, now seeming much more aware of her surroundings, pulls her knees towards her chest hurriedly like she’s feeling the cold. Barty’s eyes flick over to her immediately. Then his gaze fixates on her fingertips, which are scanning across her face, searching for something to pick at. Wordlessly, he gets up and crosses to his bedside table. There he finds a ballpoint pen, a muggle one. He returns with it, sits back down beside Pandora, and offers it to her. She blinks slowly at him. Carefully, he takes her hand and wraps her fingers around the barrel, before sticking out his right forearm. Realisation dawns across her face. Humming to herself, she grips the pen with more conviction, and begins to draw spiralling patterns on the pale canvas of his skin. Barty smiles.

‘Hello again.’

[arazialotis]

Get Him to the Con - Part 9

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 6250

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: It's here, the smut, you made it. NSFW. 18+ Only!

Although this is an RPF, these are fabricated characters and should not reflect back IRL. I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as a coping skill. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

----

The pen tapped repeatedly on the desk. The words jumped off the page and taunted you in a menacing dance. Interpreting legalese to common speech was not your forte. 

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asked, analyzing you from across the room. 

You snapped your attention to him, “Nothing,” and quickly returned to the document. 

“Somethings up.” He continued to press. 

You didn’t look at him this time and continued to read. The desk groaned under his weight as he sat next to you. His thigh was inches away from your trembling hand. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the desk's edge. There was black ink of a rune on his index finger, but you didn't know the meaning. Two fingers began tapping it in rhythm with the pen while he waited. It was as if he was tempting you, rushing the process along. “Y/N,” Jensen took the pen from you, demanding your attention. “If you need to think things over, have your attorney review it; I understand.”

You couldn’t help but scoff and roll your eyes (like you had an attorney on standby). As distracting as he was, you wouldn’t let him stop you. You turned a page and kept reading. 

“It’s not that.” 

“Then what is it?” He nudged you with his knee and sighed when you didn’t continue. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

Finally, you gave up and leaned back in the chair, looking up at him into that forest of green. There was concern, like he thought you might be second-guessing everything. 

"It's feeling all…" You gestured with your hands. "I don't know. Fifty shades?" 

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed the admission had come out so easily. You weren't trying to be difficult, really. It was just all unfamiliar. And this next page was just as confusing as the first. This wasn't the moment to skip over the terms and conditions despite the implied reward at the end. Though great enthusiasm was shared yesterday, sleep won over on the return journey. Jensen could only stir you to get you back up to the room. But that time had allowed for the preparations of more formal matters—ones you had to address before moving forward. 

His thumb rubbed against his bottom lip. "If that's what you're into, I can have my legal team draft another contract within the hour." 

Your eyes snapped back to him in shock, only to find his face painted with a shit-eating grin. 

You weren't as amused. "Shut up," you said, swatting him with the piece of paper in your hand. 

Jensen chuckled and pushed off the desk, pacing the room. About to sit on the bed, still a whirlwind of sheets and blankets, he questioned himself and went for the armchair in the corner. 

“In all seriousness, there is nothing more to it than ensuring my privacy. As much as it sucks,” He muffled a laugh conveying his conflict, “I have an image to maintain, a narrative to portray. I know it’s not fair, but those closest to me have to help me carry that burden. In no way is this me not trusting you. It's just your promise to help keep my reputation steady. And you are equally protected, in case I’m secretly a complete asshole. If you need time, I couldn’t encourage it more.” 

With a deep inhale, you mulled things over. You trusted him. Of that, you were certain. If what he said is true, there should be no concerns. Not reading further, you flipped to the last page. The pen scratched against the paper. As the ink cemented your agreement, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were signing over your freedom. And in some ways, you were. You were subjecting yourself to hold this weight with him. The world wouldn’t know him as you did. And you would only be able to share what he allowed. Or better said, what his PR team allowed. 

“It’s done.” You brought it to him and dropped it in his lap. 

He grabbed your wrist; his finger grazed over your forearm as if testing for a pulse.

“Thank you.” He whispered sincerely. 

You pulled away. “I am going to freshen up and then find some decent coffee. This hotel stuff is shit.” 

Jensen’s eyes followed you until you locked yourself in the bathroom. The spark remained, but he’d have to rekindle it for a flame. Although spending all day in bed sounded more than ideal, he wanted to repay you, truly show you his gratitude, but mostly work you back into the frenzy he saw you in last night. He went to arrange the file to send back to his team when he saw the date next to your name. It was for the night you first met.

---

“Not even two full days, but I missed ya baby!” You exclaimed as you rubbed the hood of Jensen’s rental.

“Don't you ever disgrace that name again,” He sternly scolded in response. 

You only smirked and joined him in the car. 

“So, seeing where the road takes us?” You asked. 

Jensen plugged an address into the phone. It was a little unsettling after seeing him live the last few days with no plan at all. 

“I have a couple of things up my sleeve.” 

Step one: Obtain copious amounts of caffeine. You agreed on Starbucks. After days of diner and hotel coffee, you needed something consistent and predictable. Step two: Stroll the botanical gardens, test out holding hands, and stop frequently to admire the beauty and smell the flowers, but really use it as an excuse to lean in close together. Jensen’s touch often grazed over your shoulder, brushed your upper arm with the back of his knuckles, trailed down your lower back, and held onto the fabric of your shirt (pinching lightly enough you didn’t notice him tethered to you). Step three: Smile politely as you encounter fans, snap photos for them, and let him take the lead in answering their questions, keeping your responses as vague as possible. Word must have gotten out of his location. Step four: Escape the growing crowd. 

Jensen turned the key and started the car. “Well, shit.” He said, defeated. “That was supposed to be all romantic and cute.” He started driving without a plan. “It was.” You assured. “Until it turned into a clusterfuck.” 

You laughed, but Jensen was not amused. 

“It’s okay.” You rubbed his hand on the gear stick. “We’ll find something…” You gasped and slapped your hand against his chest, sending Jensen into a near heart attack. “Oh my god, was that Voodoo’s?”

“Jesus!” Jensen swore, swerving to regain control of the car.

But you were oblivious to his panic, having turned a full one-eighty in your seat. 

“Oh my god,” you repeated. “It totally is! Turn back around!” You instructed him, and when he didn’t immediately pull a U-turn, you came back to the front, practically shouting, “Turn around!”

It wasn’t the paperwork that morning or the stolen kisses or even yesterday’s panel that officially deemed you a couple. It was this: the first time he showed actual (not feigned) annoyance with you. 

“What the hell is going on?” He demanded.

How had he not caught up yet? “Voodoo doughnuts!” you exclaimed. “It's been like forever since I had one. They’re not out by me!” “All this for overrated doughnuts?” Jensen huffed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You scoffed in offense. “They are not overrated.”

“They most definitely are.” He argued. 

“Jensen, please.” You whined in desperation. 

His ear perked up, and the annoyance melted into fascination. That was a phrase he could get used to. Granted, this was not the context in which he first wanted to hear it.  He made the mistake of looking at you, finding those same puppy-dog eyes Jared was so good at. 

He sighed and gave in. “Fine, fine.” 

Ten minutes later, Jensen was eating his words. Although he verbally stood by his previous statement, the tenacity with which he consumed not one but two doughnuts was all the confirmation that you needed to know you had won. 

Strolling down Colfax, you found a few cute shops. Initially, you were only going to window shop until you passed a bookstore. You pulled Jensen in with the same urgency you expressed upon seeing Voodoo’s. Jensen simply watched as you pointed out all the books on your TBR and those with cute covers. He was wise in not suggesting procuring them as he knew you’d have to purchase a second suitcase for the return journey home. Instead, he asked questions, attempting to understand what appealed to your taste. He’d lick his lips, nod, rub his jaw, enthralled by how your eyes lit up, talking with vigor and passion. And truly, he was paying attention, but the logic of your preferences was not computing. 

He checked his watch and eventually corraled you out with only one book in hand. But progress was lost once he spotted the record shop across the walkway. Now, it was his turn to drag you in. Initially, you started browsing together but wandered apart in search of your respective genres. For a moment, you became lost in time, searching through the miscellaneous “T’s” in the hunt for a favorite artist. An unsettling feeling that someone was watching you brought you back. The store wasn’t busy; two employees were sorting through new arrivals behind the counter, a younger guy sporting chunky headphones sampling a record on a turntable, and a few browsers. From across the store, you found the onlooker. Jensen was methodically observing your process. But his intense gaze melted into a warm smile that heated your heart, and he gave a bashful wave before looking through his stack of collections. 

It was clear that your hunt would fail. You ambled closer to him and, from behind, wrapped your arms around his waist, peeking at the current selection he was sorting through. His free hand joined yours, wrapping you against him tighter. 

“Oh, that’s a good one.” You pointed. “You should get it.”

Jensen flipped it over to see the list of tracks on the back and caught sight of his watch. 

“Shoot,” He said, gathering all the records in his arms. “We gotta go.”

“What?” You asked, chasing after him. 

Jensen plopped his records on the counter. “Hi, how are ya?” he said half-heartedly before addressing you, “We got stuff to do.” That didn’t clarify anything. You checked your phone for the time, wondering if it somehow hadn’t adjusted timezones. “We have dinner at 6?” But that was still several hours away. 

He paid for his items and raised a brow at you. “It’s not dinner.” You squinted at him, trying to read behind his nonchalant expression and motives. “What exactly do you have in mind?” 

He inhaled sharply, grabbed his bagged records, and headed out the door with you trailing behind. “It’s a surprise, " he finally disclosed. 

You bit your lip, hoping for a steamy rendezvous back at the hotel, but despite your pestering, he would not divulge any further information. And if your sense of direction was correct, once you were back in the car, you were headed further away from the hotel, not toward it. In fact, it seemed like you were heading back to Golden. The possibilities ran through your head. 

“You’re not taking me to the Coors Tour, are you?” You asked and then regretted the disdain in your voice in case that was what he had planned. 

He huffed a laugh. “A pretentious snob such as yourself? Never.” And relief flooded you. “Though you are due for a private tour of Family Business.”

“I don’t know. I hear their ratings are inflated ‘cause they have a cute owner,” you teased. 

“Smart-ass. And it’s co-owner.” He scoffed. “I’ll have to tell Liam to cool it with the charm. Need the beer to speak for itself.”

“Liam?” “My brother.” “Right, right.” You remembered. On the first leg of the journey, you both talked about family.

“It is the Family Business, after all.” 

“True.” You agreed. “So, is the whole family involved?” “Liam the most; he’s the one brewing and creating new flavor profiles. Harper was more involved in the beginning with graphic design and marketing. Mom and Pop just hang around for free samples. Ingrid’s not really involved. She has always marched to her own beat.” He smiled fondly at the end as he turned off the highway. “We’ll have you meet Liam first. He’ll be the least overbearing and easiest to talk to.”

You gulped. You had come to peace in rushing the physical things. God, you wished that was what you were doing right now, but meeting the family? Even just talking about it sent a wave of uneasiness through you. There was a certain level of commitment necessary for that kind of step. It wasn’t that you were afraid of commitment, but you feared Jensen might be taking this too lightly, like a candle burning too hot. Or maybe it was because of your own family. Sure, he had talked some shit about his on the way here, but they seemed like the Rockwell Thanksgiving painting in comparison to yours. You weren’t sure you ever wanted your family to meet him. You’d always been more comfortable with your friends. They were more a family to you than blood. Your NDA was one thing; how did actual family or even friends play into that?

“Close your eyes,” Jensen instructed, thankfully pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. You would take this one step at a time.

You did as he asked but did not hesitate to voice your opinion. “This feels weird.”

“Almost there."

You felt the car slow, felt the crunch of gravel underneath, and eventually halted to a stop. 

“Can I open my eyes?” “Not yet.”

You heard him unbuckle his seatbelt and leave the car. A moment later, your car door creaked open. He undid your seatbelt, clasped your hands over your eyes, reinforced the no-peeking rule, and guided you blindly into position. He stood behind you, securing his hands over yours for extra security. 

“Dr. Grant, welcome to Jurassic Park.” He gave his best John Hammond impersonation and uncovered your eyes.

You blinked away the bright sun and adjusted to the light, taking in your surroundings. Confused at first, you waited for your brain to catch up. Horribly painted dinosaur statues were scattered throughout the grassy patches of the dusty parking lot. Was that a stegasaurus painted as the American Flag? And the derpiest T-Rex in existence. Aside from the paper-mache dinosaur renditions, a small shed and outhouse were the only buildings in sight. 

“Oh no," you laughed. “What in the roadside attraction hell is this place? Is this payback for the mystery spot?” He silently chuckled. “As much as I wish that it was, I did my research, and although this,” He waved at the general set up, “up there is a trail with actual fossils in the hills. We have a tour with a geologist in about five minutes.” His excitement dropped as he tried to read yours. “You hate it? It’s stupid, I…” “No! No.” You cut him off. “It’s. Well. When I pictured how our day would be spent,” You didn’t know how to put it lightly, and you were committed to being more forward with him anyway. “I thought we’d be fucking each other’s brains out, not… healing my inner child.”

Jensen inhaled, about to speak, but stopped. He started again, then mentally pictured the two of you entwined and blinked rapidly. He grabbed your hand and began dragging you back to the car. Your heels dug into the ground, and there was a mischievous smile on your face. “Oh, hell no. You brought me to see dinosaurs. The opportunity to shoot your shot has sadly faded, my friend. It’ll be a miracle if I ever leave these hills.”

His hand wound behind your neck, gripping it gently as his lips drew closer to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, waiting for a kiss that never came. Jensen was so close that the tip of his nose was only a thread away from yours, yet you could still see the smug grin plastered on his face. 

His voice was a low growl. “Are you as much of a brat in bed as you are in real life?” You nearly melted into a puddle, but his grip held you steady. It took a breath to regain your composure, but eventually, you matched his domineering presence. You inched your lips closer to his, hovering, and as you spoke, they brushed against each other. 

Your whisper was as smooth as velvet. “I guess you’ll have to wait for our Vegas trip to find out.” You grazed your hand up his inner thigh, and as you tenderly squeezed your prize, you nipped at his bottom lip. As soon as it happened, you pulled away and patted his stunned cheek. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some extremely important matters to discuss with our new geologist friend.” You didn’t wait for him to respond and sauntered to the wooden outpost labeled museum. Jensen watched the sway of your hips as you grew further away. He shuddered as if casting off a chill and chased after you, knowing fully well he was leashed to you despite your distaste for the analogy. 

---

You rushed back to the hotel, fearing you’d be late for dinner, but you insisted on freshening up from the sweat and dust of the hike. Maybe you could have axed some of the questions to save time, but you loved watching Jensen roll his eyes and meander onward as you debated nonsensical topics with the geologist. You burst into the hotel room, hoping you had enough time to scramble in at least a new coat of deodorant and fix your hair.  Jensen trailed behind you, carrying the shopping bags and your crossbody. 

“Why is your bag so heavy?” he called after you, setting it down with a thunk. Curiosity got the better of him, and he rifled through it, pulling out several rocks. He sighed. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“What?” You feigned innocence as you rushed frantically around the room. “There were signs everywhere explicitly saying not to take any rocks.” He rubbed his forehead.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I had those rocks with me before we went hiking.” You said as you applied a thin layer of lip gloss. 

He fished through them. “Then tell me why this one so closely resembles the layer of volcanic ash.” You looked at the rock he held, and your smile resembled a grimace. “I plead the fifth? I only took three. None of them were actually fossils. I’m only a klepto when it comes to rocks. And not gift shop rocks, only rocks in their natural state.” He wasn’t buying any of your excuses. “They needed me. I rescued them. If they stayed on the trail, they would only be ground into gravel.” He sighed and set the rock down. “How many more crimes do you plan on committing this trip?” 

Your grimace turned up, and your tongue peaked out between your teeth. “I think I have room for a few more.”

“I keep forgetting to run your background check. And now I am going to need three character references as well.” He said so sternly you couldn’t tell if it was his dry humor or seriousness. 

You pursed your lips together and crept to him. He eyed your path, unmoving as you grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Will this suffice?”

You drew his lips to yours, meeting with a harsh need. He mirrored your hunger, the lip gloss gliding his lips against yours, its faint taste of sweet berries dancing on his tongue. You pressed further into him as you arched your body against his. 

He broke the kiss with a warning whisper: “Don’t think you can bribe your way out of this.”

But his lips eagerly sought out the pulse of your neck. His hands wandered under your shirt, fiddling with the clasp of your bra as yours untucked his shirt and went for the button of his jeans. His eyes shot to the red lights of the alarm clock, and he pulled away. 

“After dinner, " he promised, settling his grip on your shoulders, keeping you at arm's length. 

You looked back at the clock and returned with a new glint in your eyes. You began pulling your hair back. 

“Give me two minutes.” You instructed. 

Jensen’s eyes followed you as you sank to the ground, rolling them back as you went for his zipper. 

----

The restaurant was bustling with chatter and laughter. You sat next to Jensen at a long table hosting cast and crew still around from the weekend. You were trapped in the booth side but unpanicked as Jensen leaned against the back, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Jared, along with a few others, had caught a flight back earlier this afternoon, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that had also relieved some of the anxiety. Regardless, you played with the straw wrapper underneath the table. 

Rob, to his left, squinted, observing a change he couldn’t quite place. “I think this is the most at ease I’ve seen you in six months.”

You exhaled through puffed cheeks and returned to the menu, trying to conceal your blush, knowing exactly what had caused Jensen’s newfound relaxed state. 

Jensen cleared his throat and adjusted the seam of his pants while attempting to channel his default rigid demeanor. “Oh, you know what they say about the mountain air.” “Higher elevation,” Misha commented from across the table. “Hearts beat faster to increase blood flow due to the lack of oxygen. Don’t overdo the physical activity, you two; it could lead to altitude sickness.” 

You buried your head further into the menu. 

Jensen stared at Misha, unblinking. “Why are you the way you are?”

“What?” Misha defended himself. “You said you went hiking earlier. Oh,” he finally got it and giggled. “That’s why you’ve been so late to everything this whole weekend.”

You muttered a curse into the menu. 

Carla, a crew member sitting to your right, continued the teasing with a chirp. “And why you’re so relaxed.” She then turned her attention to you, forcing you back into the conversation.  “You are coming back to Vancouver with us, right? He’s been an absolute bear on set.” “I have not!” He whined. “No, he has,” Misha agreed. “He’s always been a bear! You need to come with us.” “I’m the bear?” He grumbled. “What about the time…” You cut him off. “I do have a job, unfortunately, and responsibilities. Jensen, honey, you need to play nice with your friends at work. No more pranks on poor Misha.” “Thank you!” Misha exclaimed. But your teasing earned you a pinch to the side. 

“Okay, but seriously.” Rob stuttered sheepishly. “Maybe you could arrange to come up once a month for like a long weekend or something?”

“I’m not that bad.” Jensen strained. “Kim, back me up.”

She chewed on an appetizer and tilted her head back and forth, weighing a response. “They’re just teasing you. You’re a sensitive kind of guy. As with all of us, sometimes those emotions bleed onto the set.” “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” He muttered. But you gasped. “It’s ‘cause he’s a Pisces! He can’t help it. If he’s grumpy, give him space to process all those emotions swimming up around there, and he’ll come back on his own time to talk things over.”

“That is enough out of you.” He warned. 

But it was too late. The table had dived fully into the realm of zodiac signs, guessing each other’s and looking up horoscopes. 

Bri, next to Kim, read Pisces’ out loud, “After a season of trials, matters of the heart this week become effortless. Spend time on your current connection, enhancing and empowering the relationship, as your partner is truly worth the effort. As Venus moves into your 8th house, intimacy has the potential to be more blissful than ever before.”

“If there was ever a signal to get off third base and slide into home.” You commented, feeling a little more comfortable with the group and earned a round of chuckles. 

“Excuse me!” Jensen's voice cracked as he called over the laughter and giggles. He raised his hand, getting the server’s attention. “Can we place our orders? Thank you!”

---

You entered the hotel room one last time, and finally, this time, nothing in front of you but the promise of tomorrow—no more group outings, no more road trip side shows, and definitely no more hiking. 

It wasn’t how you pictured it, how either of you pictured it. It was neither frenzied nor rushed. There wasn’t an all-consuming hunger that overtook you or a restless panic that would cease only if you became entwined. It was slow. Perhaps because you had the whole night ahead or more likely because of the favor you had pulled early. But more than that. It was because you wanted to fully savor every moment, lock it to memory, knowing this first embrace of passion could never be replicated. 

Jensen held your hand as he led you through the room. At the edge of the bed, he repeatedly brushed your knuckles against his lips, searching your eyes, forming an unspoken agreement, ensuring your desires had not changed. The bed springs groaned as he sat down, pulling you down to straddle his lap. You held his jaw in your hands, tracing small circles through his stubble with your thumbs. Each of you studied the other, memorizing the small details of freckles and wrinkles and colors as an artist would their subject. 

You softly pressed your lips against his, noses grazing as you did, and waited, watching. At first, he matched your stillness but was the first to break. His lips guided tenderly against yours before pressing further into you. The ambient sounds of the hotel surrounded you as you wove fingers through hair: the siren of an ambulance, the padding of feet in the hallway, the muffled voices from adjoining rooms. 

Jensen’s hands danced along the hem of your shirt. A shiver ran through your body as the cool metal of a ring claimed the warmth of your skin. His hands kneaded against soft flesh and muscle as they mapped the shape of you.  With one hand braced between your shoulder blades and the other gripping your hip, he flipped you onto your back. His hips dug into yours as his lips nursed that sensitive spot on your neck. You arched your chest into his and moaned. 

“Fuck, this is actually happening, isn’t it?” You gasped. 

Jensen gave a sultry chuckle and trailed his lips down your collarbone. You couldn’t deny you had dreamed of this moment for so long- since before you even knew him. And now it was here, actually here. A dull ache formed at your core. Your brave, sarcastic, bratty facade shed as you let him glimpse everything you truly were. 

“Jensen,” You called for him, abandoning the avoidance of haste. “Please.”

It took every ounce of his willpower to maintain the tranquil pace as you begged for him. But eventually, he gave in, overcome by his own need. Jensen sat up, pulling you up with him, and in the same motion, fully removed your shirt and bra, already loose from a move moments earlier Dean Winchester himself would have been proud of. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He looked down at you as you displayed yourself proudly.

Propped up on your elbows, you swayed teasingly side to side and loved how words and thoughts melted from his mind. But your arrogance shattered as he met your assessing gaze with a darkness, a greed you had never seen on him before. You sank back to the mattress, and he followed as if there was a magnetic pull. A hand snaked from your waist, along your ribs, and stopped just underneath, his thumb nearly grazing the prize he sought so desperately. Silently, he searched for permission before continuing his pursuit. 

“Gods, Jensen.” You grew impatient and grabbed his face, pulling him down to meet your breasts.

With one hand kneading, the other held you steady as his head nuzzled against the soft flesh. He rubbed against your nipple, and you bowed further into him, encouraging, manifesting more. His lips grazed against your hard peak before taking it fully into his mouth, whining as he did from the taste of you. As the ache in your core grew, your incoherent praises began to drown out the world around you. The sensation of his tongue, and teeth, and calloused thumb was overwhelming, and pressure began to build. 

“Jensen, please.” You begged again, somehow forming words, already chasing release. “I need you.” 

He paused, coming up for air, his hand sliding down to your hip as he did. It was too far apart. You needed him; you needed him to be glued to every inch of you, to know you fully. You grabbed his hand and brought it back up, but he remained unfazed, calculating his next move. 

“Come here,” He instructed and rolled to his side. 

You whimpered in protest as the heat and closeness of him retreated. But he quickly amended as he drew you closer, one arm sliding beneath your back. Both hands went for your jeans, and you eagerly helped undo their constraint, shimmying out of them. And just like that, you presented yourself fully. There were no barriers, nothing in between, nothing that separated you. You could feel his gaze rake your body as if it were his fingers caressing every inch. He inhaled sharply before meeting your eyes and kissed you deeply. 

“Beautiful.” He whispered between breaths. “So fucking beautiful.”

Even though his arm was pinned behind your back, he adjusted his hold of you so his hand could become reacquainted with your breast. With his free hand, he took yours and parted from your lips. 

“Show me.” He instructed.

Your eyes never left each other’s as you guided him down to your center until the brashness of his strong fingers clashed against your soft core. Your eyes rolled back upon the impact. But the relief was short-lived as his hand remained limp. 

“Show me.” He reminded you, his lips whispering against your ear. 

Your hand hovered delicately over his as you governed his movements to heighten the sensation. He carefully studied every movement, every circle, every reaction, every sound that escaped with your breath. His movements became his own as he practiced the patterns until he found the same reactions as before. Then he took control and dipped two fingers into your core. Lightly at first, testing the entrance and then altogether plunging into your very center. You helped instruct the pace, but he placed yours back over your clit, taking the lead. Together, you worked yourself inside and out. Your whimpers grew into a slew of fractured curses. 

“You’re close?” He asked, taking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Fuck,” You whined. 

His pace built, and his lips danced along your hair, breathing in your scent. 

“Let go.” He kissed your temple. 

“Jensen.” You cried, barely able to withstand the heated intensity. 

“Come on, Y/N.” He refused to cease. “Show me.”

You shattered, shuttering into his cradle as you rode through the release of surging waves. Both of you panted, attempting to settle your racing hearts. 

“So fucking beautiful.” He repeated, kissing you once again. 

The rough denim of his jeans scraped against your thigh as he popped the button free, and a new fever overtook you. It was not enough. You needed more. You needed all of him. You hooked your leg under his and flipped him to his back. His eyes were wide, and his hands held up in surrender from the surprise as you quickly removed what separated you from him. Once free, your lips hovered over his hard length, your nails grazed against the tufts of hair but denied him touch. 

Already cognizant of what your mouth could do, he wanted to familiarize himself with other parts of you. He pulled you up so your hips were flush with his. You took the tip of his shaft in your hand and rolled, wettening him with his own precum. His head sank deeper into the pillows as he groaned for more. You took him between your folds, grinding his length against your clit, stoking the embers back to flame. Jensen lifted his head and watched, utterly at your mercy. Gods, he had already gotten off early today, but just by the sight of you, he feared he wouldn’t last long. 

As you continued your pace, he reached for the nightstand, digging through the bag you prudently acquired last night. He fumbled with the box, trying to get a grasp on the edge, but was having difficulty concentrating as you drew closer and closer to climax.  If he didn’t hurry, he was going to spill before he was even inside you. 

The box slipped from his hands. “Dammit,” He chuckled, defeated. 

You slowed, chuckling with him, and stopped altogether, assisting him with the box. It gave him a chance to regain his composure, although he knew he’d lose it entirely in seconds. You rolled the condom over him, lined him to your entrance, and paused. His eyes snapped to yours, a grin brightened his face, and he nodded. 

You lowered down onto him, weaving yourselves together. You tested the waters slowly at first, but after you adjusted, drove into a claiming rhythm. He gasped and gripped your hips, controlling your movements and slowing your relentless pace. He wanted this moment to last. He never wanted it to end. You fought against him, desperate for another high.

“Y/N,” He cried. “For fuck’s sake.” 

It was both too much and not enough. He needed more, to be closer, to feel your chest against his, to remove the space that separated you. There was no gentleness this time as he braced you and sharply flipped you. His weight deliciously trapping you. The sculpted edges of muscle confined your soft and delicate features as if you could be molded together. You squirmed for movement, for friction, for anything to provide you relief. But he just watched. 

“Please,” you moaned. “Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

“Shh.” He hushed you, but it only drove you more feral. 

His thumb rolled against your lower lip. Needing pressure, you sought your own help, trying to wedge your hand between your bodies. But he grabbed both your wrists, pinning them above your head. He waited until you settled, until the hysteria dissipated, and he held your full attention. Then and only then, when you looked him calmly in the eye, did he thrust as if he wanted you to be aware every moment who was fucking you. His speed increased, and you cried in ecstasy as he bore into you again and again. 

“Jensen, oh god,” You gasped.

You ripped your wrists from his hold and griped his shoulders, nails digging in as he tested the new angle. He grabbed the back of your neck, pressing your mouth to his, his tongue sliding in to meet yours, consuming the sounds of carnal worship. Your bodies locked together, the coils of springs knotting tighter and tighter. 

“Y/N,” Jensen called again, his voice an octave higher. 

He couldn’t hold on much longer. He freed a hand to meet your apex once more and, with an expert’s touch, mirrored the movements he had learned only moments before. 

“Come for me, sweetheart.” He encouraged through strained teeth, fighting his own release. 

Quickly, he pried his hand from you, positioning your leg so your knee was held up by his forearm. It was too much to handle; deeper, harsher than before, electricity being sparked again and again at an unyielding pace. And when his hand returned, circling, you unraveled beneath his touch.

“Fuck,” he grunted not far behind and collapsed on top of you. 

--- 

“This is stupid,” You said, refusing to meet his gaze. 

It was already well into the morning as you stood by your second rental car, prolonging the inevitable by every minute possible. The hotel loomed overhead. A few fans, cast members, and crew remained, but the excitement of the weekend had dwindled. And both of you had places to be. Jensen to a flight in three hours back to Vancouver, and you back to your job who was all too willing to agree to some last-minute PTO but most likely would not be as grateful if you extended it any further.

“What’s stupid?” Jensen asked.

He took your chin in his grasp and tilted your head to meet his gaze. Concern grew across his face as a stray tear trickled down. He wiped it away with his thumb. 

“I’m three for three on leaving you at a hotel and crying as I do.” You shamefully admitted. 

He embraced you, tucking your head protectively under his chin. “It’ll get easier. I promise.” 

Dating your celebrity crush was new to you, but what terrified you the most was being new to a long-distance relationship. You nodded but still were not fully convinced. 

---

Continue Here to Part 10

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Home.

Pairing: Simon “ Ghost” Riley x f!Reader ( aka “Mini” MacTavish )

Summary : Happy Valentines people!! bit of soft domestic fluff. Because our dear Simon deserves it.

Warning : M Rated. Fluff. Do I need to warn people about fluff? You are responsible for your own media consumption. Turn back now if you don’t like it. pss. might have mistakes in these self attempt google Scottish dialogues. sorry!

Character of Mini MacTavish is from @saltofmercury fic “ “The Favorite MacTavish”  which she graciously let me borrow and write bit more expanded universe. Please go read her wonderful story to get bit of background. Thank you for lending me the character.

 “masterlist” for more prequel to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

You roll your shoulders as you finish the last bit of the report. Glancing at the time it's already past ten at night. You sighed. So much for Valentines day. The department you are in at the hospital been extremely short stuffed due to illness, doesn't help there has been huge influx of patients that evening. Must be full moon, you thought.

"Alright people. I am off. Good luck for the rest of the night!" " Bye Mini! Hurry up and go home while you can... Otherwise you will be stuck again." Your fellow nurse trying to shoo you off. " Okay Okay, I am going. see you next week!" " Happy Valentines!" Giving them the final wave, you left the building towards the car park. The house was dark, saves for little of glow coming from the living room when you got home. Closing the front door softly and tip-toeing towards the source of light, not wanting to wake the children up, you saw Simon sitting under the lamp, reading some historical war novel. Simon lift his eye up from the book as soon as he heard you walking into the room. Dropping your bag by the door you shuffle towards him with tired feet and bend down to kiss his forehead. " Hello love. Welcome home." " I am sorry I couldn't make it home for dinner.." Shaking his head, "Don't worry about it." Pulling you into his lap and gave you another kiss on the lip, " Had any food yet?" " I’m so puggled, Didn't have time to run to the lavvy... was burstin’ fura pee! Until Sarah came I couldn't leave the patient.." He loves it when you are tired or hyped up your Scottish accent just starts to slip out. He chuckled. " Alright... go have shower first, I'll warm up the shepherd's pie for you."

Your eyes lite up. " Just like the one my Ma makes? " " Yes, just like the one your Ma makes. I ask her for the recipe specifically for today." Giving him one more kiss on the cheek. " You are the best , You know that?" Pushing yourself up, you make your way to the bathroom for a winding down shower. Satisfied after inhaling down the delicious shepherd's pie you wouldn't admit to your Ma later it might be better than her's, both of you relaxing on the couch, with you curling up in Simon's lap, sipping on the tea he has prepared. "Thank you for looking after the children today, you only just got back from the mission yourself.. " " Stop apologising. I told you it's fine. Beside, the kids had fun with their cousin." " Johnny and Emma came around?" " yes." " Would have thought they will go out to dinner themselves." Simon shrugged. " Anyways, Soa.. Johnny helped me with the pie."

" No wonder it taste just like Ma's.. a bit better actually." " Don't let your mum hear that." he chuckled. You yawned. " Alright sleepy head. time for bed." he lift you up into bridal carry, you snuggle your head into the crook of his neck. Finishing off the night bathroom routine, he tuck you into bed, turning the lights off, taking his shirt off he got under the cover with you.

You snuggle up to him immediately. Inhaling his earthy scent, with hint of gunpowder lingering. You feel safe in his arm. Moving around a bit he slide one arm under your waist, pulling you closer. HIs other hand sliding onto your lower abdomen, caressing your C-section scars. Remember back to the conversation when he first saw the scar and the stretch marks around it. "... no.... Don't touch it. " " Why not?" " I feel.. it looks.... ugly." He bend down a kiss the scar, and look back up at you. Picking up one of your hand, he lead you to trace all the scars on his body. " All these scars, doesn't even equal to this scar you have here." Touching your scar again, " You nearly lost your life to give me two beautiful children." He took a deep breath as he lift hand, kissing it lightly. " I nearly lost you. The love of my life. " That's when you fell back in love with this man, again, or even more after.

" Good night Simon. " Good night my love."

Tomorrow will be a better day.

[quizzievivicalavellan]

Something More

In which a secret is revealed, and Gale and Aster get to know each other better. This scene occurs before the Weave scene in this fic.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53341882/chapters/138776932

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

“Here. Place your hand over my heart. Let me show you.”

Gale knelt down in front of the gnome druid so she could reach his heart, his hand outstretched toward her. Aster gently placed her hand over the circular mark on his chest. He clasped his hands over hers and she felt her tadpole squirming, connecting with Gale’s as he let her into his mind, into his memories, into the dark. She saw a book fly open and a swirling mass of blackest weave pounced toward her. Its unending black void pulled at her, deeper and deeper into the darkness, and left her feeling an emptiness, a hunger, like nothing she had ever felt. It gnawed at her insides with teeth like daggers, twisting, lurching, craving. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her heart thundered louder than a war drum. Instinctively, she pulled her hand away and tried to close her mind to the insatiable hunger.

“How are you still alive?” she asked, a mixture of horror and pity in her voice.

“Thankfully the moment I absorbed the fragment wasn’t enough to kill me outright. It was only the beginning.” Gale got back up on his feet, “As long as I absorb traces of the Weave from powerful enough sources, it remains quiet. Were it to fully destabilize however… I will erupt. Even the small fragment I carry would be enough to level a city the size of Waterdeep.”

Aster inhaled sharply, trying to process the news and its implications. What if they don’t find more magical artifacts in time? What if she had held on to the artifacts she had found already, not satisfied with the lack of answers? It made her sick to think she could have doomed him, and everyone else, by accident. “You should have told me sooner.”  

“I know. All of this… it must feel like a betrayal. Say the word, and we’ll part ways.” He looked away, as if afraid to hear her answer. He was genuinely worried that she would tell him to leave, just like that. Aster’s hurt that he hadn’t confided in her earlier melted away.

“Of course not. We’re in this together.” Aster patted him softly on the arm, a bit of an awkward gesture given her short stature.

“That is – a great relief. Oh, a great relief indeed!”

“Besides, everyone here has something dangerous inside of them now,” Aster replied with a smirk, twirling her finger beside her temple in reference to the unwelcome passenger in her brain. “It would be hypocritical of me to turn you away, no?”

“True enough. Who knows which clock ticking down to my doom will run out first? Hmm, explode or turn into a mind flayer…? Now that is a question I never thought would move beyond the realm of the hypothetical,” he said, his features forming a humorously exaggerated expression of deep thought.

“Let’s hope neither is still on the table,” Aster chuckled. Gale always had a way of making her laugh, despite the bleakness of their circumstances. Her face fell as her mind returned to Gale’s own dire circumstances. Gods, he must be suffering so much, and yet he was always ready with a joke and smile. At least she had managed to procure a decent number of artifacts so far, and now she was committed to redoubling her efforts to find more.

“In all seriousness, though, please tell me right away whenever you are in need of an artifact. When we were connected, I felt how painful the orb’s hunger can be.”

Gale smiled and placed his hand on Aster’s shoulder. “I can’t thank you enough for your generosity, for being willing to aid me without questioning, and now for your continued kindness, knowing what I’ve done.”

“Oh, it was a reckless and ill-advised thing to do, certainly,” Aster replied, shaking her head with teasing judgement, “but I think I understand why you did. I can understand the desire to be… more than yourself, to know and experience the world in wholly new ways.”

“Yes! To know the totality of the Weave, everything that magic has to offer. To think what I could have been able to learn, the magic I might have wielded, it would have been wonderous…” He looks off sadly to the horizon, swept away in thoughts of what might have been. “Alas, Mystra did not find me fit to understand the whole of her domain, and, given my folly, I can’t say I blame her,” he sighed. He turned his gaze back to Aster, one eyebrow raised questioningly “But what did you mean by ‘more than yourself?’”

A small puff of air escaped Aster’s nostrils, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Back when I was a child living in Baldur’s Gate, I was the only gnome at the orphanage. The-”

“Wait, the orphanage?” Gale interjected, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know… what happened to your parents, if you don’t mind my asking?” Aster looked away, not able to keep looking into his sad brown eyes. It was sweet how much he cared, but Aster didn’t want him to feel sorry for her. 

“It’s alright,” Aster said with a dismissive wave of her hand, though there was a clear sadness in her eyes. “I never knew them, so it’s not like I can miss them, really.”

She had hoped she might assuage some of his pity, but the concerned furrow of his brow only deepened.  “That’s almost even worse. You never had someone to read you a bedtime story, or to make you a home-cooked meal. Tell you what, if by some chance we make it out of this mess and you ever find yourself in Waterdeep, come over to my mother’s house and she’ll make you a meal you won’t soon forget.”

“That sounds lovely.” Aster replied, amused and slightly embarrassed at the unintended romantic implications of being invited to meet Gale’s mother.

“She’s the one who taught me how to cook, though I would caution you not to judge the quality of her cooking by whatever I manage to whip up from our rather limited variety of ingredients. There is only so much even the most talented of chefs can do with only apples, potatoes, and salami.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for ingredients on our travels. Perhaps I can scrounge up a carrot or two,” Aster said with a playful smirk, earning her a delightfully withering look from Gale. “But anyway, as I was saying…”

“My apologies for the interruption,” Gale said, raising his hands apologetically. “You know my mouth has a tendency to run away from me at times. Please, continue.”

“The other children at the orphanage, they looked down on me, in both meanings of the phrase. Even compared to them I was tiny and weak, and they saw me as someone to push around or as some cute little pet for their entertainment,” Aster said with a scowl, recalling the times other children had pushed her down and stolen her day’s meal, or subjected her to their cruel pranks, or had wanted to see the silly little gnome dance and sing as they laughed at her.

“When the druids took me in after I ran away from the city, they opened up a new world to me. I started to study their magic, particularly how to wild shape. It was invigorating and empowering to shed my gnomish form and become something new. A raven, able to soar across the sky, or a large and powerful bear, or a wolf, running free through the night forest, the world ablaze with smells. As a druid, I finally had power and purpose. That’s what I meant by the allure of becoming more than you are.”

Gale nodded, considering her response for a moment before speaking. “While it is certainly impressive to watch you transform into a bear and eviscerate some gnolls, you’re impressive as you are, too, you know. You brought us all together, defeated goblins, hags, harpies, you name it, and rescued… how many people now? You uncovered Kagha’s plot and convinced her to stop the ritual and see the error in her ways. You know what they say, great things come in small packages.” As he spoke the last sentence, he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before letting go.

Aster looked away toward the ground with a flush in her cheeks and a small smile on her lips, her hands clasped shyly behind her back. He was so sweet, and she wished desperately that his kind words came from feelings as strong as her own, but she was sure he was simply trying to cheer up a friend. The few people she had ever held similar feelings for had never returned them, and she had little reason to think things would change now. “Thank you. But you are, um… all of you, are so strong, after everything you’ve been through, and so capable and brave. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

“Oh, I think you could have,” Gale contradicts, raising an index finger to emphasize his point, “but I am glad to have been of some help, nonetheless. Had to give you some reason to keep me around besides my sharp wit and magical proficiency.”

“I’m happy you’re here, for all sorts of reasons. While I would have preferred we had not been abducted by mind flayers, I am glad to have had the chance to meet you.” Aster needed him to know that she enjoyed his company, though perhaps not just how much she enjoyed it.

“And I am glad to have met you as well,” Gale said with a smile, looking down into Aster’s emerald green eyes. The two stood looking at each other for a moment in awkward silence before both turning away, a flush of embarrassment returning to Aster’s cheeks.

“So, ahem,” Gale started, clearing his throat. Aster noticed his cheeks looked a bit pink as well, though perhaps it was just a trick of the light from the setting sun. “I suppose it is time for some dinner. Ready for some delicious apple-potato-salami stew?” he said, nudging Aster playfully with his elbow.

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Aster replied with sarcastic enthusiasm. They walked over at sat down beside the fire pit. Gale hung the cooking pot over the fire and started adding ingredients for the evening’s meal. Aster took advantage of his distraction to observe the handsome wizard in the glow of the fire. The orange light made his dark eyes glow with warmth, and it danced across the grey streaks in his hair as he carefully stirred the stew, occasionally tasting it and throwing in more spices.

“Enjoying the view?” purred Astarion, appearing behind Aster with a smirk. Aster startled at his surprise entrance, then turned to glare at him with a look that she hoped screamed “Shut up!”

Luckily, Gale seemed not to have noticed, “Ah, Astarion, dinner is just about finished. Well, our dinner, anyway. Sorry to say I did not add any blood to this evening’s meal.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I could just snack on you,” Astarion replied and licked his lips, clearly amused by the annoyed look on Gale’s face.

The others started approaching the fire as well, drawn over by the wafting smell of the stew. Aster was sorry her moment alone with Gale was over, but she was also happy for the company of her traveling companions, her new friends, despite their short time together. Her friends made this whole horrible experience not just bearable, but on occasion actually fun. Especially one friend in particular. And maybe, one day, she and Gale might just be something more.

[goldenempyrean]

do you have any sick/snz headcanons for marina? if so, what are they? 💕

Anon my dear, this was such a lovely little ask! Super cute, I wrote quite a few so they’re beneath the cut but honestly I could babble on about these two for hours <3

Some Carina Headcanons

I feel like she’s the more likely of the two to get sick, mainly due to working in a hospital.

Despite feeling miserable, Carina becomes extra affectionate when she’s sick. She craves physical touch even if she hates the idea of getting Maya sick. So she’ll pretend to be stubborn about it but is secretly looking for the first chance to cuddle up her.

She’s similar to Maya in the sense she can be stubborn about being sent from work home sick - normally she’ll hide up in her office wanting to just power through and finish her day.

However if she’s sick and already at home then it’s a little easier to get her to call in.

When she finally gives in to rest, Carina loves being surrounded by cosy blankets and pillows. She’ll watch Italian films or listen to music from home to comfort herself.

When Carina catches a cold, she tends to have a very runny nose and frequent sneezing fits. Plus she either sneezes all cutesy and quiet or loud and harsh. There’s no inbetween with her.

She’ll try to stifle too, especially around others, even if she tells Maya that its bad for her when she does it.

It’s a little obvious whenever she doesn’t feel quiet herself because Carina goes quiet, both at work and at home. She’s a little more reserved and it’s obvious something’s up.

Carina definitely uses traditional Italian remedies when herself of Maya is sick. Personally she drinks lots of herbal teas with honey and lemon.

Continuing from that, she’s very pro-comfort food when people are sick and loves to cook or order in something that will make them feel better.

She also tends to take on a thicker accent whenever she’s not quite feeling 100% or when she is worried about Maya.

*^*^

Some Maya Headcanons

Maya is stubborn, we all know it. She’ll almost never come home or stay off work by her own choice. She is either sent home by her boss or Carina has had to try and convince her.

At the start of their relationship, Maya found something like sickness to be a burden and would (and still does but not as much) try to hide it from Carina.

She’s still not used to being looked after so unless she’s completely exhausted it takes her a while to settle into it.

However she seems to naturally know what Carina needs whenever she’s sick despite her being the only person she’s ever looked after before.

Maya usually never naps. Even at work she isn’t one to go and take a nap mid day so if she does, it’s a clear sign that something is up.

Maya’s illnesses tend to affect her throat/chest more than anything due to her job and the impacts of smoke inhalation over the years but if it is affecting her sinuses, she often will just sit near a tissue box or just shove a load into every pocket because she ends up going through tons of them.

She just tends to go quiet - Like Carina does. Especially at home where she’s usually chatty. If her throat hurts she’ll just sit quietly instead, reading a book silently instead of muttering the words under her breath.

I also feel like she forgets the basic tasks when she’s sick. She’ll do the normal stuff like forgetting to eat, drink ect but also small things like charging her phone or picking up groceries.

Secretly she loves showering/baths when she’s under the weather because she knows Carina will be extra gentle and often massage her head when she washes her hair for her.

[secret-third-thing]

Do you read a lot of horror? Do you have any horror novel recs?

- @daycourtofficial

LOL hi. Get ready for an essay.

I need to read more. Oops.

Visual media first: I've watched a lot of horror films with @jessicafongarts. Smile fucked me up, but there was a different one that I really liked. It's the one where the ghost girl has been sitting on the guy's back the whole time!!! I legit have no idea what it's called but ill bug jess to see if they remember. Nothing has every scared me as much as It Follows. I've also seen a handful of the classics - The Shining, Poltergeist, the Exorcist, but I largely am more psychological horror and avoid films that have body horror & explicit violence. I'm a bad film student cause yes those films are spooky but i didn't enjoy them.

x-files and twin peaks could be slotted into horror tv, but my film school sensibilities want to slap the Drama label onto it. Twin Peaks changed me as a person though. My writing has always possessed a dark tone but my Media Crit class's analysis on Twin Peaks gave me the language to understand what I liked. It's about time for my rewatch anyway. I like horror/surrealism/absurdism etc.

Books/Comics:

I'm not as well read when it comes to traditional? horror, but that's largely cause I've been inhaling fantasy for the past two years. I read one Deen Koontz book and noped out. I tried IT and noped out. I do have other Stephen King books I need to try, but I generally prefer things written by women.

I'm currently reading Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia and What Moves the Dead by T. Kingfisher, (T. Kingfisher is who I want to be when I grow up and I recommend EVERYTHING she writes).

Junji Ito scares the living daylights out of me. The Body horror makes me awlfj;sdlkfj but The Enigma of Amigara Fault is probably the most accessible of his stories? Someone correct me. This Hole was made for me!!!

Bunny by Mona Awad is probably my favorite horror that I've read to date, but it's absolutely not for everyone though. If you were ever an outcast in school (esp if you were a creative type), this will hit you like a ton of bricks.

I've read Such a Pretty Smile (which was just okay imo) and nearly all of Poe. And The Bloody Chamber short story collection by Angela Carter (which is classic but def read some commentary cause iirc it hasn't aged well)

Up Next:

Her Body and Other Stories

Lapvona

Slewfoot

im know im missing some of the horror i've read but that's what immediately comes to mind. IF YOU have recs lemme know.

[rosesradio]

Leo Valdez in Ceaseless Eve: Let's Discuss

⚠️ The following contains spoilers for any & all of Ceaseless Eve ⚠️

How can I begin to talk about my boy??

To start, I should probably give some context or lore about me:

I started reading the books when I was nine. I was sick in bed one day, and my dad wanted to read me something to make me feel better. "It's just like Harry Potter!" he'd said, holding up a copy of The Lightening Theif. (My ill feelings towards the wizard books now, I had inhaled the series when I was eight and read nothing else. Thank goodness I expanded my horizons, right?).

So, he started to read Percy Jackson while I laid in bed...

And I hated it, lol.

What can I say? I was a brat. Or maybe I just wanted to be left alone with my stomachahce or fever or whatever I was sick with. So, one chapter in, my dad gave up and left me alone.

When I felt better, I picked the book back up...and I went through the entire first series in a week. Even now, my dad jokes that I just had a problem with him reading them, not the book itself. (And yes, we watched the show together, he enjoyed it--I'm still badgering him to read the books himself though...maybe I should read it to him when he gets sick...)

So, I got into pjo. The details are a little fuzzy on when exactly I read the sequel series, though I believe it was sometime in middle school. All I know was that the moment I first read about Leo...I had the biggest fictional crush on him, lmao. I remember a time in 2016 where 13 year old me would watch Viria's "How Far We've Come" video and I'd write Leo x readers in the notes app of my iPod touch (unfortunately, those fics have all been deleted, otherwise I would not hesitate to share that horror with the world. But rest assured, the reader was very much Not Like Other Girls lol).

I'm not sure when exactly valdangelo first became an interest to me or where I found it, but I remember reading the books and feeling like we were robbed of those two interacting. They were always something in the back of my mind, though I was always working on other projects and had no idea where to start in the event that I did write something for them.

Until the hype for the show was starting, and I thought that it would be cool to explore a bit of an AU quest between Leo, Nico, and Piper. I thought about the one-off line about how a "confused pizza guy" had found his way to Camp Half-Blood once and ran with that. Also, ever since I started working, I give my favorite character my job if applicable. At the time of writing, I was a food delievery person, so that's why I went with that. The fic was really a character study of Leo more than anything, so I really appreciate all of the people saying I got Leo's voice right :')

So, there are a couple big changes that were made with Leo's character in the ceaselessverse that differentiate the character from canon:

1.) Leo doesn't make mean jokes about his questmates.

This is a change that I actually regret making, and I might toy with a sort of compromise in the sequel. At first, people who were anti-leo made comments on how rude he could be, and I saw that as something that needed to be "fixed" in CE.

However, now that I think about it as a neurodivergent person...I can't help but wonder if that is connected to him being neurodivergent? Like with me, especially as a teen, I was anxious in social situations and often didn't know what to say, so I would make jokes, and a lot of them didn't land. Sure, I shouldn't have made those jokes, and Leo shouldn't have made the jokes he did, but the neurodivergent nature of it all as well as him being an awkward teen sort of explains that, it doesn't excuse it. I think the rise of purity culture and the lack of desire for nuanced characters has (pardon my lack of professionalism) fucked up the vibe. Like a lot. I think it's fine (great, even!) for a character you like to have flaws, especially if they stem from an aspect that makes them more relatable. If you want neurodivergent characters but hate them for exhibiting traits that are frowned upon, well...you might just want neurotypical characters with quirks and labels.

2.) Leo isn't a "ladies man"

I don't regret this change at all. That shit was weird, Richard.

That being said, I think it was fine to have a character who has romance on the brain and is flirtatous. Hell, it's even fine to have a character that's weird towards women and tries to "jokingly" sneak a peak at a female character changing (sorry if you were trying to repress page 114 of mark of athena)--that's just fiction, but you can't expect us to root for that character (especially in their goal of getting a girlfriend).

So, while Leo is observant of the girls around him and thinks they're cute, I think this was a change that was adjusted to age better, yk?

3.) Leo was (accidentally) responsible for his mother's death (sorry, Esperanza)

This was the first change made to accomodate the lack of Gaea.

Of course, you'll notice how most all of the character's (outside of those from the og series) backstories were altered to accomodate that, but this was something I was particularly interested in exploring. I'm not going to pretend to be a better writer than our buddy Richard (though I think some of his decisions were really weird...and he'd probably think the same thing about me, tbh), but I think it was a bit of a copout to have Leo think he killed his mom only for it to be Gaea's fault, so he's, like, "redeemed". I wanted to explore a route where Leo was responsible, even by accident, and what that would mean for his greif and healing process. I hope that was explored thoughtfully to you guys in CE.

4.) Leo was a bully to escape bullying

This one was a little controversial lol, but I think it's more interesting.

I can see where it'd make sense in canon to have Leo use his comedy to escape bullying--he does a bit of the same thing in the ceaselessverse, though I believe it works too well. Leo is welcomed into becoming almost like friends with his bullies, though there is clearly a power dynamic at work. I have had "friendships" like this in middle/high school, and I thought it would be interesting to show how lonliness can lead you to make stupid decisions in order to feel, at least a little bit, like you belong somewhere.

This is, of course, stopped as Leo became closer with his sister, Sarah. He finds that caring for someone outside of his own survival starts to make him feel like a person again, and he wants to become better for her sake. It's really sweet to me and highlights yet another great type of platonic relationship dynamic to be explored, but more on Sarah later.

---

Of course, there are several other little changes made to Leo's character for a variety of reasons--if you notice any and had any particular feelings about them (hopefully positive, but it's up to you), please let me know by sending a letter via carrier pigeon directly to my house (or by, like, commenting on ao3, tumblr, or whatever etc if you're weird like that).

what was i saying. anyways.

I could talk about Leo's character all day--about how his arc of controlling his abilities instead of fearing them mirrors Piper's, about how his sexuality is (and probably will) never be stated directly in the text, so it's up to reader interpretation (he's vaguely bi but mostly queer To Me but also idc). If you ever wanna hear more of my thoughts on him with any specifics, feel free to send an ask! Or Whatever !

A favorite tool in Leo's toolbelt: The Dormio

Leo has a lot of cool little knick-knacks, some canon and some not. His wristwatch with the hidden message was a strong contender, but ultimately the Dormio wins for sure. What can I say? I would love to see dreams--maybe not my own (Hypnos plagues me with stress dreams :') ), but other people's.

The Dormio was originally called the DreamViewer, which was kind of a placeholder name because, frankly, it's dumb as shit. I have to credit @heavens-vault for coming up with the new name, thank you <3 The name is based on a dream interfacing system by MIT.

(Did some of the editing get lost in the sauce, and the device is still called the DreamViewer sometimes? Maybe. No further questions without my lawyer lol. I plan on doing a mass edit some time in the future. Save me mass edit, mass edit save me, etc)

All that to say, the Dormio is not a one-off. We'll just have to wait and see what role it plays in Ivory Rain...

Bonus Character!

Sarah McAllen: Let's Discuss

So, my first pjo OC...

Sarah is first foreshadowed in chapter five, when Leo and Piper are discussing the quest at Nico's cabin door:

"Us?" now it was Piper's turn to look confused. "You mean...you understood that line in the prophecy, the 'daughter of doves' thing?"

"Sure I did!" Leo replied, feeling his heart skip a beat, his smile a tad nervous. "There's more to me than good looks, Beauty Queen." Hopefully, that settled Piper for now. Sure, that orientation video was not very informative, but he didn't have to explain to everyone why he knew these things about Greek mythology.

After reading through chapter nine, it should become clear that Leo has a little bit of background knowledge on Greek Mythology due to Sarah's loud interest in Mythomagic. Although their background has been covered in the text, I thought I'd mention a couple things about her.

I realized kinda late in her development that I actually did the same thing in an older longfic for a different fandom I wrote when I was 15--giving the main character a younger sister, motivating him to be better and take care of her. I'm not sure if there's any psychology behind me wanting to write my faves as older brothers, but it's interesting!

I did give Sarah a couple things in common with me, even if she's not a self-insert. She's a writer, one of the reasons she falls into the Apollo cabin. She also has what Nico describes in chapter 18 as a "medical brace" on her knee. This will be further addressed in the sequel, but I gave her the same disablity that I have with my knee. I don't want to delve too deep into the medicality (medicality?) of it all just for my comfort, but I wanted to show a chracter that has a disability but can also be a hero, like they did in the tv show. I hope you guys read that and it made you happy :-)

I will say that Sarah is not going to be too much of a major player in the sequel, I don't want to put my OCs too much into the spotlight when I already have a lot of canon characters I want to work with. Still, she will always be really important to Leo, and their relationship will always be really important to me.

Also! To tell you a secret...she will not be the only OC in the ceaselessverse, but I guess you will have to wait and see what I mean in Ivory Rain...