#i was going to work on my marrow one but...this took me away from that

[ginxyy]

Whispers between pages

Coffee, books, jealousy and confessions with Joshua



There’s something undeniably magical about the way the world seems to transform when I’m with Joshua. It’s as if the air hums with possibilities, and ordinary moments become tinged with colors I never knew existed. It had been a few months since we’d confessed our feelings, each day feeling like a chapter added to a wonderful story. Today, we were on our way to our favorite café, a tucked-away little nook where the aroma of fresh coffee intermingled with the sweet scent of baked pastries. I smiled to myself, already savoring the thought of sharing a slice of chocolate cake with him.

As we entered the café, the laugh of patrons filled my ears, creating a melody that felt just right, setting the stage for another beautiful day together. Joshua’s presence next to me was warm and comforting, his casual aura that of effortless confidence, and it made my heart flutter like the pages of a fresh novel awaiting to be discovered. We settled at our usual table by the window, the sunlight spilling golden rays across our faces, illuminating the soft smiles that danced on our lips.

We ordered our drinks my usual caramel latte and his black coffee, strong and bold with hints of sweetness. As we sipped our beverages, we talked and teased each other, slipping into our whimsical banter like two old friends still comfortable in their shared silence. He laughed, his voice deep and velvety, coaxing warmth from the very marrow of my bones.

After our sugary indulgence, it was time for my favorite part of the day nestling into the local bookstore down the street. The shop was a quaint haven lined with spine after spine of adventures yet to be lived. We wandered through aisles piled high with volumes, lost in the scent of ink and paper, almost like stepping into another realm where nothing else mattered except our shared love for stories.

One particular book caught my eye, a cover adorned with watercolor flowers that seemed to whisper secrets of love and longing. As I picked it up, I felt Joshua's warmth beside me, but soon, he excused himself, a playful glint in his eye.

“I’ll be right back. Just hold tight.” He winked before walking away, leaving me in the sanctuary of words and tales a part of me curious about what he was up to.

As I stood there, absorbed in the pages, I didn’t notice the tall, bespectacled guy who worked in the store slide quietly beside me, his presence startling me from my literary reverie.

“Beautiful choice,” he commented, gesturing at the book in my hand. "This one explores love in the most touching way. I think you’ll really—”

Before he could finish, I found myself feeling a touch self-conscious. “Oh, thanks! I’m just—”

But my words trailed off into the air as I laughed lightly, and my cheeks warmed when the stranger began to explain the plot intricately. He was charming in an animated way that drew me into a flow of conversation, but just then, I caught a glimpse of Joshua’s return, a familiar determination blazing in his eyes.

The flash of his expression sent a shiver of unexpected protectiveness through me, and before I knew it, Joshua was right beside us, sliding an arm possessively around my waist, effectively breaking the spell the bookstore guy had cast. His presence was a barrier, strong and unwavering, as he shot a glare that could probably make the very walls of the bookstore tremble.

“Hey! Sorry I took too long,” he said, his tone a little too cheerful, a bit tight, and the tension in his voice made my heart race. “You ready to go?”

“Uh, not yet,” I replied, a tad thrown off by the protective vibe that oozed off him. “We were just talking about—”

“He’s done talking,” Joshua interrupted, eyeing the guy without any pretense of politeness, the jealousy coursing through him palpable. “Let’s go.”

A silence stretched between us, and as much as I understood Joshua’s instincts to be protective, a small part of me couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration mixed with exasperation. Was I just a puppy for him to protect? Already, my heart ached for clarity while Matthew trailed off, trying to disappear amidst the aisles.

Once we were safely outside the confines of the bookstore, Joshua stilled, his shoulders tense, and he leaned against the wall, feigning indifference as he crossed his arms against his chest. I could tell he was sulky, irritation pooling in his gaze like dark thunderheads. But something stirred inside me, a longing to reach out and bridge the gap that had formed.

“Joshua.” I stepped closer, until there was merely an inch between us. I could feel the heat radiating from him, a silent storm brewing just beneath the surface. “Hey, it’s okay,” I murmured, my voice soft but steady. “I only have eyes for you, you know that, right?”

His gaze softened slightly, yet the shadows in his expression still hung heavier than the late afternoon sun. “I just—I don’t like it when other guys look at my girl,” he admitted, his vulnerability disarming me completely.

I tilted my head slightly, my heart racing as anticipation surged inside me. “And I love you,” I whispered, feeling the weight of my confession settle into the space between us. The moment felt suspended in time a breath captured, a heartbeat shared.

His eyes widened, surprise and joy blooming in his features. “You… you love me?” It came out almost reverently, an incredulous awe weaving through his voice.

“Yes,” I said, barely a beat passing before I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips against his, a soft promise that trembled under the emotional weight of the moment. “I love you, Joshua.”

His response was immediate. It was as if I had ignited a spark within him, and he kissed me back fervently, his lips exploring mine with newfound urgency. In his embrace, I could feel the world fade, dissolving into mere whispers, whispers of love that had never before tasted so real.

“I love you too,” Joshua breathed against my mouth after pulling back slightly, the joy radiating from him. I let myself get lost in the warmth of it, crowned in sweet realization as he kissed me again, brushing my hair away from my face, his fingers trailing softly over my cheeks and down to my shoulders.

We stood there, somehow lost in each other amid a world of books and dreams, a love story unfolding right outside the door of a thousand others. The words we had whispered hung in the air, vibrant as the novels around us, promising more pages yet to turn and adventures yet to be shared.

[nightlyrequiem]

Latrodectus

IV. The Heart Behind My Ribs

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

AO3

Latrodectus Mactans, otherwise known as the Black Widow, are known for their uncouth treatment of their partners. The 'widow' part of their name stemming from the common occurrence of the female devouring her partner after mating.

Tags/Warnings: Abduction, Violence, Emotional Manipulation, harassment, A Dabble of Psychological Torture, Drugging, Breaking And Entering, Fem!reader, Drugging, Breaking And Entering, Fem!reader

================================================

There wasn't anyone after Julietta. Not for a while, not until you. Your fate was sealed the day she saw you stumbling down the street crying. Ignored by everyone but her. Like you existed at a wavelength only she could see. The first time you two spoke face to face was a hot July night at the bar you worked at. Valeria approached the counter with confidence and took up your time with unimportant small talk. The sound of your voice was melodic to someone so used to the sound of yelling and gunfire. You smiled and laughed at her jokes, just like you did with every other customer, but Valeria knew you were different with her. She could feel it in the very marrow of her bones.

There you stood, under the dim yellow lights intently wiping down a shot glass with expert fingers. Eyes lowered as you focused on the task at hand, your lashes casting thin shadows over your cheeks. Valeria approached like always. Sitting herself right at the end of the bar. The other bar tenders knew not to try to serve her. Only one person was worthy of making her a drink. You glanced up from the glass as though you could sense her presence. You finished up with the glass and bounded over to her. You leaned down and gave her a little smile.

"I'm beginning to think you're coming here for more than just the drinks." You quipped. Valeria scoffed and shook her head with amusement.

"What makes you say that?" She asked. "Why else would I come here if not for overpriced beer?"

To Valeria's satisfaction, you chuckled at her words.

"Right. So, the usual then?" You inquired, tilting your head. Valeria nodded once and you moved away to prepare her whiskey on the rocks. Her eyes wandered appraisingly over your back. Taking in the sight of your shoulders moving as you worked. You turned around and placed down her drink. 

"You know," Valeria said, stopping you from moving on. "You're better than this place." You looked caught off guard for a few seconds before righting yourself.

"Thank you, Val, that's sweet." You replied kindly. Valeria wasn't trying to be kind. You attempted to move away again but Valeria grabbed your hand. Your expression hardened slightly at the contact, but Valeria didn't let go.

"I mean it." She insisted. "Let me take you out." You had gone still and furrowed your brows.

"What?" Valeria didn't understand why you seemed to be confused. Her intentions were pretty obvious.

She rubbed her thumb on the inside of your wrist. Your skin was warm and a little damp from working.

"Let me take you out." Valeria repeated. Her dark eyes staring into yours. Noise rattled on around you but neither of you paid any attention to it. "I make enough so that you don't have to work in this shithole." Valeria was dismayed when your hand slipped from hers and your face contorted into one of discomfort.

"Valeria... I'm not really looking for anything." You had said.

"That's fine, but you can at least do yourself the favour of giving me a chance." Valeria answered, undeterred by your rejection.

"No, I don't think I'm going to do that, I'm sorry." You shook your hood. You darted off before Valeria could even respond.

'No, I don't think I'm going to do that.' Valeria stared you down as you blatantly ignored her in favour of other patrons. Your smile was strained as you greeted and mingled with them, your mind clearly on Valeria. She didn't understand why you said no. You played along with her jokes, conversations with you were easy and natural. You two got along and had good chemistry yet you said no. Valeria was annoyed, but she wasn't going to give up on you. After all, the best things in life are things you have to work for. The greater the challenge the greater the reward.

Valeria vanished from your life for a few weeks. Allowing you time to fully digest what happened. Maybe with the thought in your head you'd think critically and reconsider her offer. Once she felt you'd had enough time to yourself, she showed right back up at your work. Lingering in the shadow to watch over you. You acted normal. Charming customers out of their hard-earned money. You wouldn't have to degrade yourself to laughing at unfunny jokes if you just let Valeria take care of you. She waited until the bar became sparser in people before going up to the counter and taking her usual spot. You didn't scamper over to your biggest supporter. You pretended not to see her as you angled your back towards her.

That's fine. Valeria can could for you. You eventually ran out of cups to clean and had no choice but to serve the only customer currently at the counter. There was a resigned look in your eye as you came up to Valeria.

"Hey Valeria, the usual?" Your tone was friendly, but in that detached customer service way. She practically shivered at the lack of warmth in your voice.

"Of course, unless something better popped up on the menu during the time I was absent." She said smoothly. Acting like nothing happened. You smiled politely and turned to quickly fix up her drink. You sat it down and looked at her.

"Anything else?" Valeria shook her head and you didn't waste any time in hurrying away from her.

She observed you throughout the night. Firmly planted in her seat. You served her a few more times with the same unimpressive attitude. Soon you were saying goodbye to your coworkers and walking out from behind the bar. Valeria got up and followed you to the exit. You noticed her right as you reached your car and both of you come to a stop at the same time. You gazed upon her with a guarded expression. 

"What do you want?" You asked cautiously. Your hands burrowed themselves into your pockets.

"I want you to reconsider." Valeria answered calmly.

"Reconsider going out with you?" Your frown had deepened.

"Yes, I can promise you that your quality of life will improve with me." She slowly stepped closer to you. 

You tensed up.

"I already told you that I'm not interested." You snapped. Valeria narrowed her eyes at you, feeling frustrated at your lack of cooperation.

"You haven't even given me a chance; how could you possibly know that?" She scoffed. You just stared at her.

"I don't like women." Valeria rolled her eyes at that and took another step closer. You took one back.

"Bullshit. Your last two relationships were with women." You froze and opened your mouth only to close it again in a manner very similar to a fish.

"How do you know that?" You asked sharply. You appeared disturbed by her knowledge. 

"Doesn't matter how I know." Valeria huffed. She's annoyed and doesn't need to be dealing with this. You were being so unnecessarily difficult. "You like women, I thought you liked me."

You rubbed your face with your left hand.

"I was being friendly." You said quietly. "I wasn't trying to lead you on and I'm sorry, but I am not interested in anything with you." Those weren't the words Valeria wanted to hear. She had suddenly begun to draw closer to you in an aggressively quick manner, her arm stretched out but before she could make contact your own arm flew up, a small canister clutched in your hand. Valeria's senses were assaulted by an unbearable burning sensation, she jerked back. Hands coming up to her face. She hissed in pain as her eyes and nose burned. She could barely hear the sound of you slamming your car door and speeding off as she writhed in pain.

Valeria didn't go back to the bar since you pepper-sprayed her. She spent at least an hour in the bathroom trying to wash out her eyes. She was pissed. She wanted to hurt you, but she kept herself in check. No, she had a new plan. If you wouldn't see her willingly, she'd simply force you to. People went missing in Las Almas all the time and rarely are they ever found.

She lurked outside your home past dark. The only light being a pale glow seeping through your sheer curtains. You were inside laying on the couch watching TV. Valeria double checked that she had everything she needs. Your locks were astoundingly easy to pick. Silent and stealthy, Valeria slowly pushed open your front door and stepped inside. She crept over to the couch where you laid unaware. She unholstered her gun and pressed it to your temple, your body stiffened at the contact.

"Don't move or scream." She whispered. She took out a syringe of liquidated Rohypnol and injected it into a vein under your jaw. You flinched ever so slightly but kept still. Valeria listened to your laboured breathing as she moved around you. Sitting herself down on your coffee table and keeping her gun pointed at you.

Your eyes were wide and glossy, lips parted to show hints of your teeth.

"What was that?" You asked shakily.

"Rohypnol." Valerie said "You'll feel a little sick after you wake up but I assure you it's for the best." After seventeen minutes of patiently waiting, you slumped back against the couch. She rebolstered her gun and dragged your limp, unconscious body back to her car.

Now, a month and three weeks later your head is in her lap. Her fingers softly trail back and forth against your nape. You've come so far in such a short amount of time.

"Are you hungry?" Valeria asks.

"A little." You mumble. Sitting up and looking at her. Valeria feels a sharp pang of unhappiness. Your eyes lost their playful twinkle. She reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek. 

"Why don't we go upstairs and see what there is, hm?" You don't even seem all that excited over the prospect of going upstairs. Valeria frowns but takes out a key and finally releases you from your collar. She removes it and sets it aside so she can look at your bare throat.

She gets off the bed and reaches out a hand. You grab it and pull yourself to your feet. Your eyes are downcast as Valeria leads you out of the basement. Outside the sun has set. Casting darkness over the desert. You wander up to a window in the kitchen and stare. So close that your breath fogs up the glass. Valeria watches you for a few seconds before turning to the fridge. She'll make you something nutritious. Something with protein. Maybe she should also get you some vitamins. You stay rooted in place the entire time it takes Valeria to cook. The only movement you make is the light swaying from the effort it's taking you to stand.

Valeria finishes cooking and fixes up two plates. Setting them down at the table. She glances at you while she lights some candles and turns off the lights.

"It's ready." She tells you. She sits down and watches you expectantly. You continue to stare out the window before turning and joining Valeria at the table. The warm lighting from the candles washes your face in an orange glow. Smoothing out your features. The flames dance in your eyes, making the shadows beneath them look more severe.

You pick up a fork and begin eating. Wolfing down your food hungrily. Valeria has to tell you to slow down so you don't make yourself sick. She eats her own share, Enjoying the illusion of a domestic moment.

"This is really good." You murmur between bites. Valeria smiles. Pleased that you like her cooking.

"Tomorrow, we should cook together." She suggests. 

"Sure." You nod. Finishing up your food. You stand up and bring your place to the sink. Taking some time to wash your hands and face then you walk up to Valeria.

"I'm tired." You say quietly.

"You want to go to bed?" Valeria asks. You give her a nod. Valeria looks at you and has an internal debate. Wondering if she should offer to let you sleep in her bed tonight. She decides it's still too risky to do that. Valeria rises from the table and puts her plate in the sink then gently grabs your shoulder to lead you back downstairs.

You join her upstairs the next night as well. Valeria makes good on her word to let you cook with her. Although she won't let you touch any knives, and you don't do much besides hover over her shoulder while she explains her process. Valeria tries to entertain you, tries to make you laugh but the best she gets out of you is a small smile. More often than not she has to call your name repeatedly to get your attention back onto her.

"We should watch a movie while we eat." Valeria hums. Stirring some vegetables. She turns her head to look at you. "Why don't you go wait in the living room and find us something to watch?" She feels nervous over letting you roam around unsupervised. You could try to escape, or find something to use as a weapon, but she's hoping this show of trust will warm you up a bit more.

She finishes putting everything together and walks into the living room with two plates full of food. The sight of you on the couch with your legs folded up under you makes her heart thump. You're looking at the TV with parted lips as you mindlessly click through different titles. Valeria sits down next to you and sets the plates down on the coffee table.

"Can't find anything?" She asks you. You sigh and shake your head.

"No, nothing seems that interesting." You remark. Lowering your arm. You look at Valeria and hand her the remote. "You pick something."

Valeria chooses a thriller and begins to eat. Out of the corner of her eye she watches you pick at your food. Your brows are furrowed as you stare at the movie. Feminine screams pierce through the room as the heroine is attacked by an intruder during a home invasion segment. Valeria realises this is probably hitting too close to home for you, so she grabs the remote and switches it to something more lighthearted. The movie ends and you still have more than half your plate full. Valeria frowns at you.

"Aren't you hungry?" You're still weakened by her starving you. She doesn't want you to get weaker.

"Not really." You mutter. Staring at the ground. Valeria feels annoyed. She wants to force you to finish your food, but she knows your relationship is still very delicate.

"Okay, I'll save it for later." She murmurs. Placing a comforting hand on your knee. You wince but don't pull away.

You stand in the doorway to your room. Your back is turned to Valeria, but she can practically feel the misery wafting up from you.

"I don't want to sleep down here tonight." You say quietly. Valeria shakes her head in response. She'd love to have you upstairs, but she does not trust you.

"You have to, mi dulce chica." Valeria sighs. Your shoulders hunch up, but you don't protest. Like an obedient dog you go straight to your bed. Settling on the mattress and lying down. Valeria doesn't put the collar on you.

"You never told me what you do for work." You say out of the blue. You're sat at the table while Valeria prepares dinner. She pauses. She knew the question would pop up eventually. Does she want to tell you? She's already held you at gunpoint and threatened you, but would knowing what she does change your view on her? It's best to be honest when she can.

"I'm a Sicaria." Mostly honest. You don't reply and she turns her head to look at you, studying your expression.

"Like... you're a part of the cartel?" Your brows furrow. Valeria nods nonchalantly.

"Yes." She turns back to the food. You're going to accept it anyway. You don't have a choice.

You're quiet but eventually respond.

"Oh." Valeria finishes cooking and makes you as plate. She sets it down and sits beside you. After a few minutes of eating, you speak again. "How did you get involved with that?" Valeria takes a sip of water and answers.

"I met the right people while I was in the army." You lower your fork.

"You were in the army?"

"That's what I just said, yes." Valeria resumes eating. She's pleased that you're taking interest in her.

You go two more bites before asking another question.

"Are you still in the army?" You stare at her. Eyes roving over her bare arms. Assessing her.

"No, I was discharged years ago. The army was a waste of time." Valeria replies bitterly. You stop with the questions and go back to eating. Valeria sneaks glances at you, feeling her heart beat with a growing fondness.

You help Valeria with cleaning up. At the end of it you're cuddled up on the couch. Stiffly laying against her. The silence is heavy and uncomfortable, but Valeria still enjoys feeling you against her. Your body is warm and soothing. She's been letting you stay upstairs for longer and longer, it's the least she can do since you're behaving so nicely. Her eyes grow heavy as you lay together. She closes them and drifts off.

She startles awake, realising her mistake. Your familiar weight is gone. Valeria's head swivels as panic wells up in her chest. She can't see you anywhere. She scrambles to her feet and rushes to the front door. It's closed and still locked. She hurries over to the backdoor to find it the same. She calms down a bit. You have to be somewhere still in the house, but where? She checks your room to find it empty. The bathrooms are empty. The kitchen is empty. She goes into her bedroom and finds you sprawled out in her bed. Your legs sticking out from under the light pink silk sheets. Her racing heart slows at the confirmation that you're still here. Cold dread replaced by warmth. You're in her bed.

She crawls in beside you and rests her face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your comforting smell. The next day, she wakes up before you. She admires your sleeping form and presses closer to you. Staying like that for hours. Staring at you in silence until you start stirring. Your eyes open and shift towards Valeria. She's close enough to see your pupils constrict and expand, swallowing up your irises.

Valeria has always worked hard to get what she wanted. She deserved it for the shitty hand she was dealt at birth. Her perseverance paid off. She ruthlessly leads a successful cartel and gets to come home to a doting wife every day. Getting you to agree to a marriage took some work too but like with everything else, Valeria convinced you. It isn't always easy. Every once in a while, you spontaneously fall into a short depression spell. Not eating, showering, moving. She's learned to let you sleep those off. Despite those moments, you're happy. You are happy. Even if your eyes are a little duller than they used to be, you are happy.  

[enderwoah]

im so unwell about q!pac no its not even funny anymore i need to put him in a terrarium up on a shelf and keep him safe up there. he doesn't deserve any bad thing, ever. i don't even care about "having a good story" or "giving your character a conflict" anymore, nah, no, if ONE (1) MORE BAD THING HAPPENS TO HIM IM GONNA LOSE IT!! IM GONNA START BREAKING THINGS!!!

he's so. sad. hes such a sad character. his insecurities about being useless to everyone are so real and so painful because he's not, all of us know that he's not, but we also completely understand why he feels that way because he's had everyone he loves ripped away from him and he hasn't been able to lift a finger to stop any of it. he's just left to sit in the ruins without any help. he's collateral to all the tragedy surrounding him and the favela 5 in general and he's. tired. not in the way that cellbit is tired (though that works, too). he's exhausted of feeling sad all the time. of crying all the time. of feeling that loneliness that gnaws holes into his bones and settles in the marrow and never leaves, not when richas' bed is empty, not when mike's bedroom has started to collect dust, not when he can't see a real, tangible presence in forever's dilated eyes. the only person he has is cellbit, and he could never ask cellbit to give up what he still has when pac has nothing to lose (and god, how selfless, how kind is that?), so when he figures the only way to get an antidote to the drug is to have the drug itself, why wouldn't he offer himself up? and if that wasn't the only reason he tried to get his hands on it, who could blame him?

maybe he took it first to just feel the effects and understand the angle it took in affecting his mind. maybe he just took it for research. do you think he had slipped by the second time? do you think he took it once and, for a short thirty minutes, found that he could forget about all the sorrow lining his lungs and breathe? do you think reality crashed back onto him after that first try? do you think he was scrambling to take it again, to go back to that...maybe it wasn't blissful ignorance, per se, but willful disregard? do you think he couldn't wait to be submerged so deep that he couldn't think one more time? do you think he was hesitant? do you think he kept promising himself, one more, one more, one more...

god he is so. so sad. i was watching phil's pov, so everything was like a neat little movie for me, and just. cellbit and forever arguing while pac was just sobbing in the background was AWFUL. just. awful. it hurt. (cc!pac was damn good at acting, too, and that DID NOT HELP.) the moment he stepped on the trap i felt like i was hit with a brick. like no, of COURSE we should NOT be putting PAC in a CONFINED JAIL CELL. ALONE. and i know it was for his own good but i still felt so so so sick. the way he immediately curled up in the corner. the way he was crying to himself. the way he instantly answered richas' birthday the moment bad asked for it. the way he got visibly more upset and terrified when cellbit started shouting at forever. what the hell. no seriously what the HELL.

and, like, oh my god, making him the one to solve the antidote? proving that even though he may have fallen to the drug (the drug which was basically created by GODS, by the way, lets be real, the federation is nawt normal), he's still so useful. he's still such an asset. he's smart and he's kind and he's charismatic and he's trusting and he's so so selfless and so so brave and so strong. tubbo put it perfectly. the fact that he's gone through all the horrible awful stuff he's gone through and he's still standing just proves how capable he is. how tough he is. cellbit calling him "my dear." pointing out the fact that he sacrificed himself without knowing he was going to come back. "i'm only afraid of being sad again." "you will be sad again. but you won't be alone." he's so. he's just. he's. im frothing at the mouth. he gave himself up to save the rest of the island from this plague that took one of his best friends and might've taken the entire island if he didn't do anything. under that stress. experiencing that level of loss.

pac is one of the toughest goddamn people on the island and if anyone on that server even dares try to imply otherwise i will do heinous heinous things, mark my WORDS.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Up in Flames

Druig x gn!Eternal!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Once again a team, you would do anything to keep them together.

Word count: ~2.2k

Warnings: Canon-level violence/injury. Reader has fire powers. A bit of angst, reader misses the team. Fluff!!

A/n: Not sure how alive the Druig fandom is lol, but he's been plaguing my mind since I watched Eternals again. It's my first time writing for him, so please let me know your thoughts! Thank you for reading <3

--

Unrelenting. The deviants continued in waves, the swells of their army growing as they passed over the grassy hill — the soil churned up under their talons.

At the bottom of the hill, past you, stood a village already half torn apart from the monsters. It awaited its fate against the gnawing fangs currently bared toward you and the other Eternals fighting to hold them back.

And as your power coursed through your veins and muscles, down into your marrow — searing fire erupting from your palms into a wall to keep the deviants contained — you thought of your team.

Your eyes had long been squeezed shut as you held the army back, the swirling flames rising high into the smoky air. The creases between your brows only fueled the pounding in your head, making images stark behind your eyelids. Images shimmering with the aching memories of the only family you’d known splitting apart  — splintering like your mind under the weight of your straining power.

Most of your team had been apart for hundreds of years, separated by oceans and long-worn arguments that came to a bitter end. Few saw eye to eye when things became tense, and while you had tried to see each of them occasionally, the visits felt too short and all too quiet without the others. Like visiting your childhood home once you’ve moved out — you once belonged there, but the decorations felt different, the walls long bare of your voice.

And yet.

When you were called together once again, they’d come back to fight side by side, as if none of that lonely time had passed — or had left an ugly scar on your memories. 

You knew that they’d probably go their separate ways again after it all finished, happier apart, but for now, you relished in it all. The whipping of wind around your body as Makkari ran past and the sound of Kingo’s sarcastic remarks as he shot lasers past you. Even as your arms began to shake, exhaustion settling into your limbs, you were glad to be by them once more.

Strengthen the left side. Put that extra nap you took to good use.

A hint of a smile graced your face as the lilting voice of your husband Druig filled your head. He fought somewhere out of view to your right as you sent more fire out left, keeping the wall of flames steady. 

Each hit the deviants sent against it reverberated back into your body, chattering your teeth against each other. But the others were attacking from other sides, thinning out the army — all to give Phastos time to build something from nothing like he always did.

Thousands of years ago, your team handled the monsters with little effort, but there were so many concentrated here — and they weren’t going down as easily. So Phastos’ expert hands crafted an explosive so strong that it’d reduce them to nothing, but they had to stay contained in one area for it to work.

So you kept them back using the only way you knew how. After all this time with your abilities, you’d learned to welcome the heat breathing from your palms — to settle into the warmth it curled around your body. 

The sweat, the exhaustion, the pure power rocking from you in waves matched your rapid heartbeat — it all meant that you were alive. But as the deviants beat against your flames with no pause or mercy, your knees shaking and bones aching, it felt like you were dying. Each breath felt too shallow, the strength of the monsters too strong.

You heard their growls aimed at you — could feel their anger against your fire. As you forced an eye open, blinking away drops of sweat, you couldn’t see any of your teammates for a moment, and your heart jolted.

A brief thought passed your mind, worrying whether they had abandoned you — had left you like discarded remnants of food to be feasted on by these monsters. But just as you’d slipped down onto one knee, your leg giving out, you saw Gilgamesh and Sprite fighting stray deviants back from the darkening corners of your vision.

As a groan ached to leave your mouth, you only hoped Phastos would finish soon enough.

But your flames began to flicker, leaving holes in the wall for the deviants to slip through. You caught a flash of light as Thena tried fighting some, but there were dozens all waiting for this exact moment. Even with the whole team together, the fight had begun to shift.

As they broke past the smoldering fire, you dropped to the ground, the dry grass biting into your palms. Ragged breaths ached through your lungs, scratching along the inside of you with each inhale. Your vision began to blur, your head spinning as you struggled to stand back up.

Even in this state, you saw a deviant stalking toward Phastos. Glancing around, you found everyone else occupied and overwhelmed — so you raised your shaky palm.

But your powers sputtered, spent from trying to hold so many back. Your throat, so painfully dry, cracked as you tried to scream to get his attention. Nothing came out but a whimper.

Still, you stumbled toward him with your body burning too hot, your steps much too slow to make it there in time. Your legs kept moving.

Come on, I know you’ve got more in you.

The voice came from inside your head, from your mind that begged you to rest. But it was Druig again. Each word sounded strained as he fought a deviant much too far away to get here in time.

He needs you. Just a little more, sweetheart. Then you can rest.

Please.

His last plea to you trickled through your brain, dripping down your spine and out to your fingers. You thought of Gilgamesh wrapping Thena in his arms the way he did, smiles etched onto their faces. You thought of Makkari’s gifts, all of them stolen relics she “found” along the way. You remembered the weddings, the dances, the births, and the funerals you attended of all the humans you’d come to love along your long lives.

And you quickened your steps as you felt the gentle caress of Druig’s fingers brushing along the apple of your cheek — as kind as the way he whispered into your mind.

Your power began to surge again, your feet pushing your body forward to help your team. But as you commanded pure fire to burn from your hands, the deviant lunged at Phastos.

The world shifted, your steps stuttering, as you watched its long teeth sink into Phastos’ body. 

Only a weak grunt left his lips as blood began to pool along his shoulder. Watching his face twist, you sprinted to him with panic closing around your throat. The unforgiving exhaustion and screaming in your mind fell away, leaving just an ache in your chest as hollow as Phastsos’ ragged breaths.

He pushed the deviant away, falling to his knees from the monster’s bloody maw. His red-stained fingers continued working on the explosive device, even as Makkari guided him away from the fight. 

In that instant, with painful fire burning beneath your skin, you knew you’d be no help to healing Phastos. Your vision instead tunneled onto the deviant responsible. 

White-hot rage clouded your senses as you leapt onto it, grabbing its head with a furious grip. Fire pulsed through your body, its power searing new images behind your eyelids.

The monster roared beneath you as you saw Druig leaving the group all those years ago, the pain of his helplessness worn on his sleeve. The broken look on Thena’s face flashed as bright as the fire exploding from you. An image of you, sat alone in your home, alone, while Druig was away — your family nowhere near.

And you wouldn’t let that happen again, not because of these monsters.

Your teeth clenched so hard against each other you thought they might shatter. On the edges of your awareness, you felt your knees hit scorched earth.

Even though it was gone, burnt beneath your body, you stood up again while more deviants came at you. Without thinking, your hand raised to them, unrelenting as you created another wall to protect your team. It didn’t just keep them back, it burned them into nothingness. Even with shaking arms, you refused to give them an inch. 

You thought hearing Phastos completing the device would be a sigh of relief — a soft voice telling you that you’d done enough. But as a wave of air pushed past you, the rush of Makkari speeding to the center of the deviants, you found no solace.

Even when the explosion flashed bright and shook the ground seconds later, sending you back down to your hands and knees, your rage refused to die out.

You shielded your eyes, finding many of the deviants evaporated into dust. But the few that were far enough away from the explosion continued their fight. Their dark eyes and unforgiving claws just reminded you of how many they’d hurt

Their agonized screams only made your mind want to keep going.

Stop. We’ve got the rest. You need to stop.

You didn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t? Who knew. You could only see the reds and oranges dance around one another, seeking  revenge where it was needed.

The power pulled and pulled at you, draining from your veins until it threatened to smother you forever. 

You were going to burn out, reduce yourself to cinders amongst clouds of smoke.

Druig’s begging voice continued to echo through your mind, but you couldn’t focus on any specific word. It all mushed together, smoldering along with the rest of the world.

You wanted them to pay, but it was hurting you. Tears ran down your dry cheeks, searing a trail through the ashes caked onto your skin.

“Please,” you whispered from cracked lips. Your body swayed as you asked Druig to fill your mind with hope. You needed him to stop you.

The flames continued to spill from your body until you felt a trickle at the back of your brain. The floating sensation bled forward and pulled you away from the cliff your mind was about to fall over. 

Your hands dropped to the ground once more, fingers clawing into the rubble to keep you steady. You hadn’t realized the ringing in your ears until it faded, letting in the sounds of your teammates fighting off the last deviants.

Phastos is okay. You protected him. We’re okay.

You trusted Druig with your life, and his with you. So you knew he took no offense as you turned over to see it yourself, see Phastos with your own eyes. He sat with his back against one of the village’s buildings, giving you a thumbs up and tired smile. 

You returned it, the edges of your mouth lifting just enough. As you crawled from the circle of burnt ground around you, your heart slowed. They were all still here. 

From behind, you felt your husband’s presence, caught his deep exhale as he sat among the grass.

His hands wrapped around your body, moving you to rest your back against your chest. “Rest, my love,” he murmured along the curve of your ear, smoothing his palm down your leg. And you did, sitting with your legs bent and feet planted as you relished in the weight of him encircling you.

Your throat felt too parched, so you whispered in your mind, I was so angry. I thought he was gone for a moment.

Druig leaned his head against yours, his thumb rubbing along your skin. “Aw, no way he’d go down that easily. He knows you’d kill him if he died on ya.”

His chuckle reverberated against you, drawing out your own laughter. An easy smile made its way onto your face, turning brighter as a wafting breeze washed over you.

The rest of the team made their way toward the village, each holding varying injuries from the fight. Gilgamesh patted a heavy hand onto your knee as he passed, his other hand encircling Thena’s arm. You watched as Sprite and Kingo joined them too, the latter making a fuss about how his suit didn’t match his complexion well enough. 

The short beat of silence after they walked away felt painfully familiar. It made your heart heavy knowing their presence wouldn’t last.

“They love you, you know,” Druig said, knowing exactly where your thoughts went without having to read them. Turning your head to look at him, you admired the way sunlight carded its fingers through his hair and kissed freckled spots on his irises. 

You nodded, giving his arm a squeeze in thanks. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes fixated on you.

“And I love you, but please don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Scared me half to death,” he breathed against your skin with a grin, lightly pinching your side to make his point.

It brought out a squeal from your lungs, your jaw dropping. “Are you sure you love me?” you laughed, shaking your head. “Because someone who loves me wouldn’t do that.”

You jokingly tried pinching him back, but he caught your hand, bringing it to his smiling mouth. With a gentleness that made you pause, he kissed your palm.

I love you more than anything… more than life itself.

His words caressed along your mind, filling your body with a warmth that didn’t pull at you or demand energy — it just settled deep into your ribs, breathing life into you. The comforting presence of his voice pulled you in, telling you that even when the team eventually left, your home would always be with you.

I love you too, Druig.

[fearandhatred]

Hehehehehe for the one word thing: theft (or words related to that)

i'm so sorry for this it could be five sentences if you squint real hard. also me when writing absolutely anything at all: how do i make this about angel crowley

the dollmaker

the teeth went first, which you lined up with extreme care onto curved wires caressing a plain, wooden pole. they say teeth are what make a face, and i guess that must be true—you would know. i hadn't known yet what you were going to do, so i just watched with my bare, gaping mouth as you chipped my teeth into asymmetrical shapes, carving them into a beast's.

the tongue was next, the larynx too—just as well. i wasn't much keen on speaking anymore, anyway, what with all the blood in my gums. i wasn't keen on smelling anymore, either, the tang of iron and wood flecks that surrounded you like a visible aura. the silence must have been music to your ears, now that i couldn't scream through the pain, could hardly even take a breath.

there were the lips, the nose, the cheekbones. you took it all off my face, like a sculptor trying to return their creation to a clean marble slab, and all i could do was watch. and maybe, along the way, i was even resigned. that settling that inevitably came with constancy.

but then the panic surged back up and out of my body along with my eyes, which you scooped out with ease, and i could scream again, only it wasn't coming from me—no, maybe it was me, the other me, if it was me. i didn't know which way was left, couldn't comprehend what my eyes were seeing: it's one thing to see fragments of yourself scattered around like an unfinished painting; it's another to see the remains of where those fragments were stolen from—oh god, it would have been kinder to be less methodical, to have had gnarled and brazenly sliced pieces of flesh and marrow exploded off of my face, rather than the precise and surgical peeling away of skin, all in one piece like wool from a shearer's hand.

and you painted them a lurid, reptilian yellow, slitted pupils like a knife's scar. i saw this, i saw my eyes only through yours, gold reflected off blue, and for a moment there was something so intimate, so complementary in that gaze, you with your deceitfully gentle smile and weightless hair, that i forgot what you were doing to me. just for a moment. but then it came into focus again, that garish, nauseating colour of my eyes, and that moment was gone. the colour of sick, one more step away from the angel i was, if an angel was defined only through construct; if an angel was defined by spirit, by grace, by acts… you're the farthest thing from an angel i could possibly fathom, and yet here you are.

i closed my eyes, then, and one by one you took, and you took, and you took, stealing everything from me, stealing myself from me. when you lifted my brain out of my cleaved skull, the pain finally quietened, if only for the few seconds it took to rewire it, but it was a reprieve, and i was grateful. and i didn't feel it when my limbs were hacked off at their stems, tourniqueted and cauterised. i didn't feel it when you ripped out the nails from my fingers and toes and replaced them with claws.

and so even as you took, and you took, and you took, i didn't struggle, no, and soon i couldn't struggle. but i didn't want it, i didn't, i didn't. but one by one by one, it got easier, with every limb and organ and joint, with every side sweep of my hair; you've changed that, too. because i thought—oh, i thought that with every piece of me you changed and fit into this new mold, i thought you would at least take it all. i thought you would complete me at the end, so that even changed, this new thing may still be me.

but we're at the final stages now. here come my lungs, my intestines, my stomach, fitting into this new me so perfectly it's as if i'd never changed at all. you've taken the stray clumps of my meat and stuffed them back into me, you've fed me back my blood, and it all works, as if i'd never changed at all. there's just my heart now, resting on the stool you'd propped me up on like a doll, nothing left but stray splotches of blood, but you're not taking it, you're not taking it, what are you doing?

i feel each individual stitch now as you sew me up around my joints and from my pelvis to my neck, a long line like snake vertebrae, weaving in and out of my skin. and still my heart remains untouched, outside of my body, discarded like waste. i start to beg now, because i can, and i didn't want this, but now i'm so close to reformation, to being whole, and oh, i feel so empty, you left the hole in my chest there where something is supposed to fit, and now my centre of gravity is off, and i can't be expected to live this way.

please, all i'm asking for is my heart, just this one thing. i know i haven't been good, i know i struggled, i know i screamed, i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry. oh, but please, won't you take it?

[fruitcoops]

Ok so this post is from a while ago but i just saw it and am wondering if you would want to write something based on it? Or just about trauma response in general?

Fic O'Ween Day 8: Shiver. Credit to @lumosinlove for the SW-verse and @noots-fic-fests for the header + prompts!

TW for trauma response to canon injury (Remus')--flashback, panic attack symptoms; and broken bone.

Call for stretcher on standby before moving out. Careful on the patch by the bench—always extra slippery. Check pulse and breath, then pupil constriction. Pen light in the shirt pocket. Players take a knee to make space. Use your body to block the camera in the right corner.

Remus knew what he was supposed to do. Of course he did. He just…couldn’t move.

“EMTs on standby!”

This was a strange feeling, not moving. It wasn’t even that—a choice. It was a complete and total absence. What was the opposite? Stillness? He didn’t feel still. He didn’t feel as if something had taken the place of motion. A gap had been scooped out of his belly, and nothing had come to fill it. It was simple emptiness where there had been adrenaline five seconds before.

“Lupin, catch up on Vance’s left!”

Had his ears always rung at that pitch? Funny. He hadn’t noticed.

“Lupin!”

Perhaps they had. Perhaps someone in the crowd had brought a whistle. There were an awful lot of people crowding the rink.

“Hey—” Weight and pressure collided with the back of his neck. Remus felt something in him go dim, powered off. “Kid, let’s fucking go! Are you asleep out here?”

James’ feet were flexing in his skates. Restriction of the tibialis anterior from the pain. Vastus medialis, following. His knee bent and bowed inward. If he kept the writhing up, there would be strain on the gastrocnemius and soleus. Remus blinked hard. James’ legs tended to ache after practice. The man got calf cramps like nobody he’d ever seen.

“Jesus Christ,” the hand on his neck muttered. It moved away. Pressure released.

“Rapid breathing, strain in the calf,” Remus blurted. His eye twitched. Blinking took incredible effort. “He’s going to try and stand up. Stop, James, stop it—”

Careful on the patch by the bench. He sidestepped without a second thought. In two strides, he was looking at James’ flushed and sweaty face. “Holy fuck, my fuckin’ arm, on fucking fire—”

“Pots.” His neck was burning up under Remus’ two fingers. Ten seconds, 25 thumps. “150 bpm,” Remus informed the nearest trainer. The pen light was ice-cold in his fingers. “James, give me a big deep breath.”

“Loops—”

“I’ll count to four while you breathe in, and then we’re gonna let it out for four.” His own voice reverberated back to him from a thousand miles away. Ice dampened the knees of his khakis. James gritted his teeth; his nostrils flared. “One, two, three, four. Good job. And four, three, two, one. Nice, buddy. Pupil activity normal, breathing unimpaired. You said it was your arm, right? Up or down?”

“All of it,” James panted. “All—fuck me, Loops, don’t talk to me right now—”

“Almost done, J. Wiggle your fingers.” A faint roaring had started up in the back of his mind. It crept into his eardrums and down his back. Something trickled down his spine and tiptoed through the marrow of each rib. James’ fingers twitched. “Great work. Alright, they’re going to slide you onto the stretcher now. Keep taking those big breaths for me.”

Black, Dumais, and Walker were all hovering in the corner of his eye like crimson-and-black bloodstains. They blurred together as the roaring grew louder. Remus staggered to his feet. His pen light wobbled in his fingers, and he shoved it clumsily into his back pocket. Black stepped forward, quiet as a ghost on his skates. “Is he okay?”

“Um—I don’t—” The left edge of his vision blurred into grey. “I don’t diagnose. Possible elbow dislocation. Or radial or ulnar break. Likely not the humerus.”

“But is he okay?” Black pressed. The stretcher was so yellow against the ice it hurt to look at.

Remus’ throat squeezed. “Yeah, he’ll be okay. Probably out for a couple games. ‘Scuse me.”

Christ on a crutch, he was going to throw up if he didn’t get out of here right fucking now.

Black wasn’t looking at him anymore. Walker was talking to James as they loaded him up and began rolling him off the ice. Dumais…

Dumais was staring at him dead-on. Remus swallowed hard, and saw him lean over to whisper at Moody.

Would he—could they fire him for this? He thought he did okay. Pulse, pupils, penlight, ice patch. Four for four. He had been slow getting off the bench, but that was an abnormality. Nothing they needed to be concerned about for the future. There wouldn’t be a repeat performance. There wouldn’t, there wouldn’t.

He couldn’t feel his knees.

Moody was walking toward him.

Remus just barely managed to stumble back onto solid ground in the wake of the stretcher before Moody caught up. Barely. The flex of his hands was starting to hurt. Sweat and chemicals and terror washed his nose with acid.

“Lupin?”

He could feel plasticky foam on his cheek. It itched. Stung.

“Hey, kid, you with me?”

In the distance, his mouth coughed out a mumble. Fingers snapped under his nose. He couldn’t bring himself to flinch. If he flinched, the hands on his body were going to wrench his life out through his shoulder.

“Walk with me.”

Pressure on his upper back. A lurch.

Pale wood door. Heavy lock. Cold handle. Man door hand hook car door. Jules thought that was the funniest ghost story in the whole world.

“Sit.”

It was less of a sit, more of a controlled fall, and the easiest thing Remus had done in the past half hour. Something heavy fell over his shoulders.

“Hand.”

Man door hand hook car door.

Rough hands took one of his own between them. His wrist was full of gel instead of bones. Cooling gel? Ice pack. James was going to need—“Ice packs. Pots needs ice packs.”

His palm was clammy when it pressed to the base of his own throat. “We’ll have some ready when the docs are done.”

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. “160 bpm.”

“Take some breaths.”

An inhale sounded gaspy in the underwater buzz of the rink. An exhale rushed out all at once. He felt a little push to the back of his hand, and his fingers curled over his collarbone. The heel of his palm was solid against his sternum. The hollow of his throat gave slightly under his thumb. “130 bpm.”

“Keep going.”

“My neck.”

Extensive damage. Rhomboid. Deltoid. Trapezius. All the way into the splenius, though he wasn’t sure if that was from the hit or the dislocation or being pinned. A seat of salt poured into his mouth. He could taste it, the inside of a glove and the chemicals they used to clean the locker room mats. His head throbbed, pounded, he couldn’t see.

“145 bpm.”

“What’s wrong with your neck?”

“Strain potential whiplash impact.” Words tripped over each other to explain with complexity the situation did not need.

The hand over his own vanished, leaving cool air. Fingertips pushed gently against the sides of his neck. “Keep breathing, Lupin.”

A thumb ran along the outside of his spine and the floor came into focus. Prodding, palpating. Gentle despite the rasp of calluses at his nape. Steady, not gripping. He could pull away if he wanted to.

“I don’t feel damage.” A push beneath his ear. “Just some tension. Rate?”

Remus exhaled. “110.”

“Good work.”

“Thank you.”

“You interns and your manners,” Moody muttered. A few blinks brought his face back, all scrutiny and scowls. Remus had learned not to take it personally. “Relax, Lupin. Hand stays there until you’re under a hundred, you hear me?”

“Mhm.”

He was so lucky. He was so lucky. They were so kind to him here. He would try to deserve it.

“I’m sorry.”

Moody stood and pumped some sanitizer into his palm. The sharp tang chased out the bitter chemicals lingering in Remus’ memory. He sat back in his rolling chair, half-watching the game on the corner TV while his glass eye remained focused just over Remus’ shoulder. “Why?”

“Froze up.”

Moody set his bad leg up on a footstool with a grunt. “Rate?”

“90.”

“Where’d you go out there?”

A locker room, two years and a thousand miles away. “College.”

“Bad hit?”

Remus took a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Moody nodded. “Gonna be a problem?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“Tell me if it is.” On the screen, Kasey made a beautiful save. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m sorry.” Sweat was beginning to freeze on his skin; he shivered. He took his palm off his neck and tucked it under his thighs, but missed the pressure above his heart almost instantly. The light blanket over his back wasn’t much more than a thin comfort. “I just—I don’t know. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“You’re young. You learn.”

“James was down.”

“It was five seconds, Lupin.” Moody’s voice wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t cruel, either. “You did your job. Now you know.”

The back of his throat prickled. He managed a nod.

“You know, Heather is a resource for all Lions staff.”

It’s not that simple, he wanted to say. But—it could be. Maybe. Not right now, when he was teetering on the tightrope between two worlds, but soon. He could do that for Moody and James and Arthur and maybe, just a little, for himself.

[bitteraristocrat]

[position] - Sebastian catches Ciel in a compromising position

The kidnappers had done fine work, but did not take into consideration how easily the young lord's skin bruised; like white peaches almost too ripe; so ripe that if you touched them they marred.

The how and why was irrelevant, Sebastian had dealt with the perpetrators efficiently. Sebastian and Ciel had been chasing the idea of this game for awhile, but the latter of the two neglected the consequences. At the chagrin of his butler, the earl allowed visitors - patrons, competitors, and investors of Funtom alike - to take liberties he wouldn't typically have allowed. Having been a young man amid others four times his age, Ciel was often misperceived as impressionable and vulnerable. One such competitor was too arrogant in his judgement of the boy, and thought that the abduction of an orphaned little lord would go unnoticed. Thus, the game was set.

While the demon made quick work of the perpetrator and his cohort, he indulged in making a mess of their demise. The carpet and walls were stained in deep merlot and squelched beneath his shoes as he approached his charge, who was face down on his knees, bound and gagged.

Ciel knew that the powers-that-be of the underworld and the corporate titans of London were often the same lot of villains, and they took great pleasure in humiliation. What they would have done to him had Sebastian not come to his rescue threatened to ignite the prowling terrors of his past. Yet, there was an insidious part of him, buried in the marrow of his bones, that was thrilled by the threat of it all.

"My, my. What a mess they have made of my master," the devil crooned. Ciel only replied in a slow writhe to face the demon, one eye glaring ice into his wretched saviour. From where is mouth was bound with black leather, spittle drooled down his chin and onto the collar of his shirt. It was a pretty sight, if not equally infuriating. Sebastian had agreed to allowing his master to be kidnapped only because he knew that Ciel was never in any true danger. And the reward was the rare sight of that little masochist biting off more than he could chew.

"I warned you of the consequences of this game, my lord," Sebastian continued with a faux air of concern. "I had presumed you had grown out of your proclivity for getting whisked away when my back was turned, but I suppose hold habits die hard. And now you are here, ankles and wrists bound in the company of dead men."

To this, Ciel grunted and shook his arms, as if to implore that Sebastian cut the shit and set him free.

"It is not becoming of an earl to writhe, sir. Nor is it any aid to me, as I have not the slightest inclination as to what it is that you require." The devil licked his lips, stopping himself just shy of the shock of slate hair that spilled onto the floor where the boy's head lay. What a sight it was to see his lord in such a deplorable state. Sebastian's teeth ached at the "It seems that with your mouth occupied, you cannot very well bid me your orders."

Ciel whined and threw his head back so that the rest of his fringe fell onto Sebastian's shoe. The fresh blood clung to his hair and made it stick to the leather, as if connecting the two of them.

"Dear me, you are making a mess of yourself now." Sebastian knelt, the tails of his coat slapping wet upon the floor, and smoothed Ciel's hair back away from the filth of his shoes. The tenderness made the boy's chest well up in rage, and the crease between his brows twitched. Sebastian simply smiled, drunken fangs hanging past his upper lip.

"Did they hurt you, my lord?"

Ciel's eye flicked to the side and Sebastian gently turned his head to reveal an impressive bruise on his temple.

The demon tutted. "We shall have to ice that once we have returned home. It is good, then, that I crushed their skulls as a way of atoning for such treatment of my master."

The boy shuddered. Sebastian noticed.

"Does that thrill you, my lord? That they paid dearly for damaging my prey?"

Ciel's brows softened but the fervour in his eye never faltered. It only darkened, as his pupil became large and heavy with arousal. Slowly, he nodded.

"Did they touch you?" Sebastian's voice darkened. Upon no obvious answer, he reached forward to smooth his bloodied hand over his master's hip. "Allow me to be more direct. Did they touch you here?"

A sound that was undecidedly excited and irritated grunted from behind the leather in Ciel's mouth as Sebastian cupped between his legs. He shook his head in denial.

"Good," the butler drawled, circling his thumb around the warmth that began to bloom beneath his gloves. "This is mine to touch. I will not tolerate even the notion of anyone else defiling you here."

Ciel began to wriggle more beneath his butler's fondling, frustrated whimpers spilling from his chapped lips. His cheeks had gone ruddy with excitement, a flush that was almost too sweet for the company they were keeping.

"Allow me to assist you. I cannot understand you with your mouth full with that horrid thing." With a single motion, the gag fell away with stringing drool connecting it to Ciel's mouth.

"You bastard," the boy gasped, voice hoarse and tired. "Untie me and get me away from this filth."

"Come now, young master, no one likes a sore loser."

[howlingday]

Belladina Castle

Phone: (Rings)

Blake: (Grabs it) Belladina residence!

Jaune: ...

Penny: ...

Blake: ...I see. Thank you. (Hangs up)

POP!

Belladinas: WE DID IT~!

Jaune: This is so great! I'm proud of you, Penny!

Blake: Hold on. This was all of us working together. You deserve credit, too.

Sun: Hey, hey, hey! I heard lil' Penny got in!

Blake: Word spreads fast on the balcony, doesn't it?

Sun: Eh. I was in the neighborhood. Besides, I already know everything. (Climbs inside) And you must be Mr. Belladina! Nice to finally meetcha! I'm Blake's buddy, Sun!

Jaune: Oh! Nice to meet you, too, uh, Sun.

Penny: Mr. Banana!

Sun: C'mon! Let's party! I already ordered food and booze!

Blake: (Thinking) This guy...

---------------------------------------------------

Sun: An it's all thanks tuh me, swipin those test anzerrs!

Blake: (Whispering) They can hear you, you idiot!

Penny: (Picking at her food)

Jaune: (Drunk) Huh? Whattaya mean?

Sun: You're the only adult one not drinking, Misses Killjoy...

Blake: I am. I'm just trained to not become an imbecile while doing it.

Sun: Huh? Howzat work?

Sun: Still, you did a great job, Penny! Bet yer Mommy's so happy, she'd buy you anything you wanted!

Penny: Really~?!

Blake: D-Don't tell her that!

Penny: Well, I don't wanna get anything, but I do wanna do something!

Blake: Well... so long as it's within reason, I guess...

Penny: (Points at TV) That! I wanna do that!

Blake: ...And what exactly is "that"?

Penny: I wanna be rescued by a hero in a castle!

Blake: Absolutely not.

Penny: (Sniffles)

Sun: "How could you?! And after I worked so hard to get into school~!"

Blake: Don't speak for her!

Sun: (Leans in) Hey, Blake. There's a castle not too far from here. You can rent it out for 2,000 Lien a day. The governments ain't got eyes or ears out there, so you could really let loose!

Sun: I mean, Penny DID work really hard to get in. It wouldn't kill ya to throw her a bone, would it?

Penny: (Sniffles)

Blake: ...

---------------------------------------------------

Penny: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW~! It's a real castle~!

Jaune: I... Isn't thith- (Hiccups) lovely?

Penny: ...

Blake: What's wrong?

Penny: There's no one here. No bad guys, or servants. It's not right.

Blake: That wasn't part of the deal.

Penny: (Sniffles) I-I don't think I can go to school anymore...

Sun: (Patting her back) There, there, Penny...

Blake: (Groans)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALL UNITS STATIONED IN VALE, REPLY

"REPORT TO VYTAL CASTLE IMMEDIATELY"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Penny: There's so many people~!

Sun: See? Just took a little nudge from the agency, right?

Neon: (Thinking) Oh my gosh! That's Agent Nightshade!.

Marrow: (Thinking) In the flesh!.

Yatsuhashi: (Thinking) Maybe I can get her autograph?.

Blake: Okay, now what?

Penny: Let's see... (Points to Blake) Hero! (Points to Sun) Villain! (Points to Jaune) Um... Whatever!

Jaune: Huh?!

Penny: (Behind a table) Save me, Blakeadina!

Sun: OH HO HO HO! I'm surprised you've come this far, Blakeadina, but you'll never make it past my demon servant and the princess will be mine!

Blake: Are you actually playing along with this?! (Thinking) Do I really have to humiliate myself in front of all these people?!. But... But if this is what it takes to get her to go to school.

Neon: Look!

Yatsuhashi: A chance to see Nightshade in action!

Blake: Y- You better give me the princess.

Sun: Did you really think it would be so easy? GO, MY DEMONIC KNIGHT, JAUNATHAN!

Blake: Demonic knight?! There's demons in this story- (Barely dodges a whirling cross)

Jaune: Anyone who tries to take my precious Penny away from me...

Jaune: WILL DIE BY MY HANDS.

Blake: Dammit! What's gotten into him?! He told me his sister taught him boxing, but I've never seen moves as ferocious as these!.

Jaune: (Swings a kick)

Blake: HE'LL KILL ME!.

Jaune: (Slips, Falls, Groans, Falls asleep)

Blake: A... Are you okay?

Sun: Ha ha! Most impressive, Blakeadina, but you're no match for-

THWACK!

Blake: (Walks past Sun on the floor, Panting) Are... Are you unharmed, Princess Penny?

Penny: (Awed, Hugs her) MAMA~!

Blake: Mama? That breaks continuity. (Crowds applaud) What is going on?

Penny: Everything has been so much fun since I left the orphanage with you, Mama! I'm going to work really, really, really hard at school!

Blake: Oh? Well, then let me just say, "Congratulations, Penny".

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

Winter: S-Sir! You need to see this expenses report from Agent Nightshade!

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 9 - Down To the Marrow

| FERAL WOMAN | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 6.2k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: taking back control and a sense of ownership of your own body after it’s been taken from you is complicated :/

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: It’s the first advance into the more intimate connection you share with Joel, and you’re struggling to uphold your agreement to keep things moving slow. Even with Joel constantly pulling you both into something more deliberate and measured, you find yourself purposefully testing the extent of his self-control.

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧ “𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙. 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠.” ― Hᴇ́ʟᴇ̀ɴᴇ Cɪxᴏᴜs ✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧

Ever a man of his word, Joel took things slow. Painfully slow. Frustratingly slow. Your body is so incredibly alive for once, and you find yourself with the tedious, vexing task of walking it all backwards to cool things down at his request. He insisted on being completely transparent when you were communicating and navigating this new part of your relationship. Raw, open discussions were the fixed foundation for delving further into the physical and romantic aspects of your interactions.

It was freeing, in a way, knowing you had Joel’s explicit permission to share whatever came to your mind.  He wanted you to convey your thoughts, even if the“negative,” unpolished, or cryptic ones. He didn’t want you to edit yourself or your experiences with him. He gave a confident claim that there wasn’t anything you could say that would upset him or make him look at you differently. You weren’t so sure of that, but you really did try to be open and honest with him.

You can’t shake the apprehension about things he might want to share, things he might be mulling over in his own mind. As if you suspect if he ponders your pairing for too long he will see how incredibly imbalanced and unfulfilling it is for him. He didn’t regard you as some broken, tragic thing, but you still recognized the  softer approach he took with you. Careful in his choice of words, aiming to put things “the right way” so there was no room for misunderstanding. It was work for him, but it was work he was willing to take on. For the time being, at least.

It was skewed in your favor that you had the liberty to speak carte blanche while he relegated himself to a more measured approach, but there was a reason for that, after all. Joel had reminded you many times that just because something is equal doesn’t mean that it’s fair. The reality was that you’d come to Jackson under difficult circumstances with plenty of experiences and pain that Joel had never and would never personally know. What you needed and what he needed were different, and that was okay. At least, that’s what Joel told you time and time again.

“I just worry about certain things, honey.” You didn’t want him to worry. Not about you. You didn’t want to be a burden to him like that. 

“It ain’t your fault, but I’m nervous it’s just … gonna be one wrong move or word, somethin’ I don’t even do on purpose, and you’ll be runnin’ for the hills. Scared of me. Afraid of me like you used to be. I don’t think I could take that,” he’d admitted to you after you persuaded him to go into more detail about his anxieties.

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. You wanted to soak up as much of this wonderful thing as you could before it got away from you. It felt tenuous and fleeting, and that scared you.

You wanted him. You didn’t want to take this road alone. You wanted him right alongside you for every moment, good or bad. It felt safer that way. You felt safe knowing if something went sideways you wouldn’t be left to your own devices to figure out how to calm yourself down or determine what went wrong and where.

You enjoyed the thought of Joel’s eyes on you as you pulled back a layer from your protective shell. You liked the idea of awakening something inside yourself that had laid dormant for years or had never come alive before at all. You wanted Joel to spectate on your form, your presence, and your sounds.  You wanted him to help you take ownership of your body again, just like he had with your flower marking. 

When you were alone, there was a dull ache between your legs whenever you thought about Joel. But being next to him, live and in the flesh? So close to his warmth and his scent? Your fingers practically twitched of their own accord just imagining running your hands over your body while you were with him. You could feel your heartbeat pulsing in places that wouldn’t be polite to discuss outside the privacy of your own home.

You hadn’t orgasmed in a very long time. The first one in recent memory being when you were in Joel’s lap, rubbing yourself against his thigh as he kissed you. You hadn’t remembered what it felt like to climax. You aren’t sure you’d ever orgasmed before that, actually. You feel certain you would have remembered such a pleasant thing as that. But not everyone offered the same sort of companionship that Joel did. Perhaps it was uncommon to have partners as enrapturing, encouraging, and soothing as he was with you. No, Joel was different, and you knew that to be true without a shadow of a doubt.

Your past physical and sexual encounters had been far and few in between - thanks to the apocalypse - and practically all consensual experiences had been painful or rushed or one-sided relief. You don’t know what a “normal” sexual encounter is supposed to be like. But Joel does.

You’d told him your entire history of intimacy and sexual experiences, and he’d been hesitant to share his own afterward. You knew it had more to do with him realizing just how wide the chasm between your experiences was. He didn’t want to intimidate you. You didn’t want him to realize how much more he had to offer you than you had to offer him.

“I’m happy you know about all this sort of stuff. I know you can help me. It makes me feel better knowing I have someone who knows what it’s supposed to be like,” you’d told him.

He expressed his discomfort at being the supposed authority on the matter. He’d insisted things were different for everyone. Likes, dislikes, turn ons, turn offs. There was a whole new language of intimacy for you to adopt, but Joel made it feel less intimidating. 

In fact, you found yourself pushing against his willpower more often than not, trying to get him to give in a little more than he wanted to. You knew you shouldn’t, but this damn insatiable need for him scorched your insides. It was always urgent and mauling its way out of you, to reach out to him and drag him into you. To fuse your bodies together until they were one entity. 

He’d said his only reluctance was rooted in trepidation that something would happen to unnerve  you enough that you’d no longer want to continue seeing each other. There wasn’t anything Joel could possibly do that would ever make you feel that way, though. You knew it wasn’t possible.

Joel had said he liked your skirt, so you made sure it along with your t-shirt dress were always clean to wear. You’d picked up one more dress just in case it seemed like he was getting bored of your two other garments, but he hadn’t so far. Quite the opposite. Reacting to the sight of you in either of them with such eager praise that it still made your tongue feel heavy and your heart race.

When he made his return from the morning patrol shift, your eyes lit up as he an easy smile crept through the usual downturned line of his mouth.

“Hi, beautiful,” he murmurs quietly to you.

“H-Hey, handsome,” you reply with a nervous giggle.

His ear to ear grin is infectious. You still feel most proud of yourself when you make him smile or laugh, two things he isn’t often known to do easily, if at all.

You walk hand in hand to his house. You’re alone still when you get inside. Joel had previously agreed to Ellie’s plans of spending the afternoon with some friends. When you teased Joel about how nice that was of him, he grinned sheepishly  and admitted what you already knew: he’d wanted more time alone with you. A self-serving motivation, but it was a good thing for Ellie to be making friends around town, anyway.

You remove your shoes and jackets at the front door and head to the kitchen like you usually do. Your t-shirt dress isn’t flowy like your skirt, but it hits higher - just above your knee. When you sit at the kitchen table with your untouched glass of water, the bottom edge of your dress rides up to the middle of your thighs. You keep clocking Joel stealing glances at your legs. You wonder if he likes them. You wonder what his favorite part of your body is.

He clears his throat and looks away from your legs. “Your wrist ain’t givin’ you any trouble is it?”

“Nope. Not anymore. Swept today and everything at the station. Not even a pinch,” you chirp.

“Hm, that’s good. And, uh, the flower mark?  Should be gettin’ close to how it’s gonna look when it’s all done healin’.”

You smile across the table at him. “Oh, yeah. It’s healing really nice,” you report with delight.

He nods as he sips on his sweet tea. “Good to hear, honey. Good to hear.” He taps a fidgety finger on the table as he looks at the spot on your thigh where the marking sits just below the fabric.

You invite any excuse to be close to him, so you stand and walk over. “You can see it’s scabbing around the edges, but it’s, like, sharp or whatever you said, so the lines should end up really clean.”

You curl a finger under the hem of your dress and pull the sliver of fabric up your thigh, creating a slit of bare skin along the outer portion of your thigh for Joel to observe the progress of your healing. Your brow scrunches when he makes a strange noise in the back of his throat. He looks pained, somehow.

“MMmmfffgghh. Alright. Yep. Okay. You gotta– Ya can’t just– let’s just not be haulin’ our clothes up like that, sweetheart, okay?” he chokes. 

“But it’s– you said to not have stuff rubbing on it, and I just… is it my body?” Your lip wobbles in confusion.

He’d seen this part of you before when he fixed your mark. Did he not like it anymore? You begin to panic. Did your body repulse him now? Was this not how things were meant to go? Should you not present parts of yourself to him unless he tells you to? Should it be him that takes while you silently give? If he doesn’t like your body anymore, what value still remains? What else could you offer him to keep his interest and attention?

“Nah, look, it’s not that… it’s jus’... christ,” he laughs under his breath and looks away from you. He seems nervous suddenly. It makes you nervous.

“Why-Why are you being like that? I don’t u-understand what’s wrong,” you push.

Joel’s expression softens when he recognizes your uncertainty to his reaction. His eyes flicker to your hips and lower belly as if he was struck with the reality that you have nothing on underneath your dress. When his eyes flash back up to you, he grows embarrassed at openly ogling you.

“Sorry,” he mutters. He pulls in a big breath of air and relaxes his shoulders. “C’mere.”

He holds an open arm out to you. You quickly settle onto his lap and face him sideways.

“S’this okay?” he asks as he brings his arms around you.

You nod but are still anxious to understand what has him acting this way.

“You gotta say it, honey. I need to hear it, alright?” he prods.

“Yes, I like it, Joel. I do. I really do,” you insist. “I just … are you… do you want me to leave?”

Joel’s head inches back in a snap. His brows pinch together as he cocks his head to the side.

“Leave? Why would I want  you to leave?”

You squirm awkwardly in his lap. You must have misread the situation. He shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment.

“This is what I’m talkin’ about, alright? You ‘n me are havin’ two different conversations ‘cause we’re not explainin’ ourselves right.” He places a gentle, encouraging press of his lips against yours before pulling away all too soon. When you go to chase after his mouth, he chuckles but holds you away from him a bit.

“I know, honey. Trust me, I know,” he laughs breathily. “I want it, too.”

You feel a flood of relief at his words. He still wants your body. He still wants you.

“Why did you act like you didn’t like seeing my body?” you mumble.

Joel’s loud laugh startles you for a moment before you’re grinning shyly at him.

“Don’t like seein’ your body? PPffffttttt,” he snorts. He seems genuinely amused by your take. “You’re givin’ me way too much credit, darlin’,” he laughs. “I’m a pretty simple guy, and it don’t take much from you to get me goin’.”

“What does that mean? What do you mean?” you press.

He tilts his head as he considers you. “It means you were just tryna show me your mark and how it’s healin’, but all I saw was your skin and your thigh and… christ,” he sighs. “In case you hadn’t noticed, you have quite the effect on me. I’m just tryna keep my head on straight when you get me like that.”

Your brows scrunch and lift. He smiles to himself, shaking his head with closed eyes and a soft chuckle.

“Jus’ look down,” he explains.

Your gaze drops to his lap where a very large bulge is protruding in the crotch of his jeans. You realize he had been angling you away from it so it wouldn’t surprise or upset you.

“Oh,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” he laughs low. “Exactly.”

You savor the way his body responds to such a simple thing as seeing more of your unclothed form.

“Can I….?” You gesture down. You could make him feel good. He would like that. It’s something you know how to do. You could do that for him. Your stomach suddenly feels funny.

The self-deprecating levity in Joel’s demeanor is gone in a flash. He’s suddenly very austere and solemn. “M’not sure that’s the best idea. Probably not where we should start, I mean.”

“So where should we start?” you urge in a breathy sigh.

“Let’s just sit on the couch together, alright?” he suggests. 

“Okay,” you agree nervously.

“And not like last time,” he adds quickly. “No pressure for … neither one of us has to, ya know– we can just keep it real simple this time. No expectations for anything.”

You relax again and nod with a smile. “Okay.”

You manage to convince Joel to lay down together on the couch. It’s not long before you’re exploring each other’s tongues and mouths. You switch between laying beside each other or with you on top of him. It feels better that way. Safer. 

That normally dull ache between your legs has ignited into something you can’t ignore. It’s throbbing and demanding. You covertly slip your hand under your dress and cup yourself, not yet dipping between the folds where you can feel sticky, slippery wet seeping out.

You occasionally feel Joel hard against your body when he presses into you. You know you should be attending to him first, but your body is screaming for contact and friction where your hand is already resting. It feels like an itch being scratched, a sort of relief that leaves you wanting more, but it also feels strange to be exploring yourself like this.

You draw a low groan from Joel when you nip at his bottom lip, and your hips jerk forward involuntarily in response. He pulls back quickly, uncertain if you’re uncomfortable or just readjusting, and his face darkens with want when he sees your hand rubbing against your dark thatch of curls. You hastily drop your hand and squeeze your thighs together.

“Whatcha doin’?” he drawls playfully.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly. 

You shove down the hem of your dress to cover yourself as though that would make Joel forget he’d just seen you tending to yourself instead of him. Your eyes dart across his face, looking for any sign of upset.

“I won’t do it again,” you promise.

Joel seems to pick up on the fact that you’re not just acting a little shy after he caught you touching yourself.

“Hey, no, it’s alright,” he soothes.

“But it’s not–I mean, I was–But you’re still,” you trip over your words. You gesture down to his hardon straining against his jeans when you can’t quite figure out how to say it. How to tell him you’re sorry for putting your pleasure before his. A few beats pass in confused silence from Joel.

“Wait, you mean…,” he trails off. He sucks in a breath and shuts his eyes like he’s suddenly trying to keep from getting angry. When he opens them and levels a stare at you, you swallow thickly.

“You need to understand somethin’. I don’t give a damn about what I’m gettin’ outta this equation right now, you hear me? That ain’t for you to worry about right now, alright? This ain’t about what I need. Not today. You understand?”

“You’re not upset? I didn’t even ask if I could–” You don’t finish your thought when you see frustration flash in Joel’s eyes. You know it’s not directed at you, but it still makes you feel nervous for some reason. You drop your eyes from his.

“Hey,” he bids quietly, tipping your chin to look at him. His eyes are notably gentler than moments before. “You? You don’t hafta ask for a thing. I already told you, whatever you want from me is yours. You don’t need my permission to feel good.”

“It’s okay?” you ask in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, baby, of course. It’s alright. I want you to feel good. That’s all I care about. And seein’ you enjoy yourself, well, I like it. I get somethin’ outta it, too,” he reassures you. He pauses for a moment. “Do you like it?”

“I think so,” you whisper. The heat in your cheeks is no doubt giving away just how far out your element you are.

“Then you go ahead. Go ahead and touch yourself, honey. We can just keep on like we were,” he encourages.

“You’re not mad? It’s okay?” you ask again.

“I want you to feel good. If you feel good, then I’m happy.”

You sit with his encouragement for a moment. You still want him to take part in it somehow.

“Do you.. Can you watch me do it?” you ask.

“You want me to watch you touch yourself?” he clarifies, sounding like it’s suddenly more difficult to speak.

“Yes. Please,” you exhale.

“Anythin’ you want, honey,” he chuckles breathily.

He presses a chaste kiss against your cheek and sits upright. You follow and sit up beside him. He motions for you to climb onto his lap, and he turns you to face outward when you clamber eagerly to settle yourself

against his thighs. He eases your back flush to his chest with your legs bent on either side of his. He massages the heels of your feet where they rest next to his hips. It’s a small point of contact to let you know he’s still there but holding off on anything further until you’re comfortable in this new position.

You loll your temple against his chin as you sink down into him. His entire body is like a furnace, burning like the want and need he sets aflame in your belly. You moan contentedly at the feel of your full body weight pressing against him. He scoots himself down a few inches so his back is slouched against the couch rather than being completely upright.

“Show me where you want my hands while you’re touchin’ yourself, pretty girl,” he says as he ghosts kisses against your neck.

You grab his hands from where he’s working small, kneading presses against the muscles in your lower calves. His hands dwarf yours, and puppeting them is almost difficult as Joel doesn’t take any measure to control his own movements beyond what you’re conducting them to do. You slowly drag his hands up your legs, just like you’d done the day you’d had to show him you weren’t afraid of his touch, grazing his hot palm up your left leg until it covered the ugly marking on your hip before he fixed it. You’d wanted so badly to repeat the feeling of his hand on your leg ever since that day.

“Talk to me. Wanna hear what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, honey.”

“I’m - I was thinking about how–” your breath hitches when the heat of his palms grazes the hem of your dress. Joel’s hand clench instinctively, but you grab them tight and keep lifting the fabric higher “–how your hands felt on me. When you gave me my flower. And I kept thinking about it. Every day since then, Joel. How good it made me feel.”

Joel’s gulp is audible beside your head. “Yeah?” he asks, sounding out of breath.

You bob your head quickly up and down, trying to multitask conversation and not letting yourself get too distracted by how good he feels on you and beneath you. Your dress is caught under the weight of your body. Joel taps your thighs, signaling you to lift your hips, and you do so as he rucks your hem up past your hip bones. He grips the fabric and holds it up against your lower belly.

“S’this okay?” he asks. His head is turned toward you where he’s kissing softly into your hair. You lower your hips and moan at the way you can feel the outline of his cock more closely with a layer of fabric out of the way. Joel grunts in reply, seemingly on the same wavelength as you.

“Is this okay, sweetheart? Gotta tell me,” he prods.

“Yes.” Your voice is a high pitched whine. You can feel how wet you are with nothing but the cool air of the room meeting the damp between your legs.

“Tell me what you need me to do. Where do you want me?” he implores.

“When I’m… down there, can you–can you touch my breasts?” you whisper. It almost sounds like you’re telling a hushed secret when you ask.

“You want me here, honey?” he goads as his hands graze underneath your dress and up to your chest. Your breath catches in your throat when he reaches the lower half of your breasts. Your back arches off his chest when he slides past your hardened nipples.

“Please do that again, please,” you beg. You slam your body back against his, wanting to be connected again as quickly as possible.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he teases. His thumbs caress your nipples as though he’s delicately and expertly playing an instrument. The areas where his fingertips are calloused give more friction to his passes against your pebbled nubs. “So sensitive for me, honey.”

You don’t realize you’re grinding down into him and his fully hard erection until he clears his throat and readjusts in his seat. “If I didn’t know any better, darlin’, I’d think you were tryna make me come in my pants again,” he laughs in a breathy huff.

You snap out of your dazed bliss at his words and turn your head to look at him. Is that what he wanted? Was he saying you should pleasure him? Is that what he wanted? Were you supposed to stop what you were doing and shift the focus to him now? You’d do it if that’s what he wanted. You needed him to want you. You’d do anything to keep him wanting you and your body.

“I can make you feel good. I know I can,” you promise hastily.

Joel just shakes his head. “Nuh uh. I have no doubt you could make me feel amazin’, but that’s not what we’re doin’ today,” he asserts.

“It’s not?” you ask quietly. He gives a short nuh uh sound. “So.. what then?”

 “Jus’ wanna watch you rub that pretty little clit until you come in my lap, babygirl,” he murmurs softly into your ear before nibbling on your earlobe.

You don’t hold back the broken, needy moan that slithers from the back of your mouth.

“Show me what you like, honey. Go on, baby. Go real slow. Wanna see everything,” he coaxes.

Your hand smooths across your body slowly. You want to make sure Joel can see whatever it is that he wants to see from you. You keep glancing his direction, and he realizes you’re watching for his reaction.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs softly. You comply immediately. “I want you to keep your eyes shut just for a minute, okay? Want you to focus on your body. Tell me how it feels with your hands on yourself while I watch.”

With your vision obstructed, you are more aware of your other senses. Joel’s breathing picking up and working to stay controlled. The quick rise and fall of his chest beneath you. His hands cupping your breasts while the pads of his thumbs toy with your nipples. The fabric of your dress scrunched up your belly, held in place by Joel’s wrists and forearms. You can still taste him on your tongue, hints of sugar and tea leaves. The smell of him so close to you: a pine, salt, and earth aroma.

But you feel nervous. Relying on all of these because you can’t see him. How would you know if he was enjoying himself? You don’t think you can enjoy yourself if you don’t know that he’s being taken care of first and foremost.

“I don’t know if I can come,” you blurt out with your eyes shut tight.

“Don’t hafta,” he says lazily against the column of your throat where his lips languidly brush against your skin. “Just focus on makin’ yourself feel good. We can spend as long as you want doin’ that. Don’t hafta get all the way to comin’, baby.”

You ease somewhat at his words. It didn’t seem like he was expecting some sort of result or performance. Maybe he really did just want you to show him what felt good to your body?

When you don’t say anything for a few moments, Joel pauses. “You wanna stop, sweetheart? We can stop right now if you want to,” he insists.

“No!” you clip out quickly, your eyes flying open in panic. “No, I don’t wanna stop. I wanna keep going. Please, Joel?”

“As long as you’re sure,” he agrees in a firm tone.

You bring your arms across yourself, pressing against Joel’s where they rest against your chest. You snuggle into the crook of his neck and press a kiss against his pulse point. “I’m sure. I know. I want you.”

You feel a surge of confidence. “I want you.. right here….” You reach under your dress and guide one of his hands down your body. Your breathing is rapid and borderline wheezy. You aren’t afraid, so why does your breathing sound so panicked?

“Alright, let’s slow it down, baby,” Joel warns softly, bringing the descent of your hands to a stop. You whine in protest.

“But, I’m fine. I swear. I just,” you pant. “I-I just– just want….” Your thought goes unfinished. Your lips feel a bit tingly. You lick them, and they’re so dry the wet of your tongue sticks to them for a moment like you’d pressed it against a metal flagpole in the middle of winter.

“Squeeze my hand. Breathe,” Joel instructs.

You squeeze his hand in a slow rhythm and match your breaths to it.

“There ya go. You’re alright. You just settle for a minute, honey.”

You’re not really sure what just happened. Whatever that was just crept up out of nowhere. Joel seemed to know what it was, though. That made you feel safer. He would take care of it, no matter what it had been or what it was.

“I think let’s just have my hand close by, okay? No touching from me right there. Not today, alright?” he offers.

You wanted him to touch you where your body was demanding it, but you agreed. Your breathing now quieted, you help Joel splay his fingers against the crease of your thigh, just to the side of your throbbing wet entrance. You hum a throaty groan at the feeling of him so close to where you want him most.

“I-If you won’t touch me there yet, maybe you could.. I dunno, say stuff? It makes me stay out of my own head, I think.”

Joel warmed to your request immediately. “Oh? You like that? Like me talkin’ to ya when you’re touchin’ yourself?”

“MMmhhhhmmmmm.”

His hand on your chest slowly rubs circles against your skin. It feels warm, soothing, and grounding. After a few moments, it feels inciting of your uncontrollable want for him.

“You think about me sayin’ dirty things to ya? Think about my hands on you when you’re alone in your bed at night?” he taunts in a low, sultry voice.

“I-I don’t actually.. do that. Touch myself down there, I mean,” you admit quietly. You hope he doesn’t ask why. That last thing you want to get into right now is the longstanding disconnect of your body and your mind that’s only recently been mended.

“Why’s that?” he asks, sounding more focused now.

Dammit.

“Just.. didn’t feel connected to my body, I guess. Sort of felt like I wasn’t inside of it. Like I couldn’t feel it, even if it was my own hands,” you offer up weakly.

Joel sits with your words for a moment before speaking again. “But that’s different now?”

“Yeah. Since.. since being with you,” you explain. You look at him from the corner of your eye. He looks pensive and maybe even moved by your disclosure.

“Is this like the reflection thing you told me about? Seein’ yourself when you look in a mirror?” he wonders.

Tears threaten to well up on your lash line at Joel’s mindful perceptions of your work to find yourself again and take care of that person until she is made whole again. You suppress your fledgling, overwrought sentimentality.

“Yeah. I think they have a lot to do with each other, those two things,” you concur.

Joel takes his time planting leisurely presses of his lips against your hair and cheek. You recognize he’s absorbing and sorting the things you just shared with him.

“So how’s it like for you now?”

“You mean, how my body feels when it’s touched?” you posit.

Joel nods and makes a noise of assent. You look forward and lean your head against his as you try to express yourself adequately.

“It’s like… like a pressure. Down there. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s– I dunno. I get nervous to touch near it. Nervous it’ll be too much. Feel too overwhelming or something. I dunno.”

Joel mulls over your words again. “Does it feel overwhelmin’ right now?”

“No. Not in that way. Just in a different way, I guess. Like it… like I need to touch there. Like it’s waiting to be touched by something,” you explain as best you can.

Joel makes a contemplative sound and rubs gently on the side of your torso.

“So let's give that pretty pussy the attention she deserves, hm?”

You inhale sharply at his intoxicating invitation and turn to see a coy grin drawing you in. You bite your bottom lip in a smile and nod enthusiastically.

Joel nudges your hand resting over his, persuading  you to touch yourself between the folds of your sex. You hover above your mound. Joel’s fingers move to scissor your lips open, holding you wide for yourself to explore. He’s not even directly touching your private parts, but it feels so intimate and arousing.

“You’re gonna take real good care of her until I can, right, baby?”  he goads.

“Yes,” you whimper.

“That’s right, honey. You’re gonna make sure you’re touchin’ her real good. Makin’ yourself feel real good, okay?”

You gently rest your fingers against the sensitive nub at the top of your lips. You jolt at the feeling of finally making direct contact.

“Ssshhh. Sshhhh, it’s alright. Take it slow, honey,” Joel reminds you.

You drag your fingers in small shapes, settling on a back and forth motion. You whimper at the intensity of satisfaction you’re bringing yourself. You toss your head back against Joel’s shoulder and squirm with pleasure. You quicken the pace of your swiping motions against your sensitive clit.

“God, can’t believe I get to see you like this. So fuckin’ beautiful,” Joel praises.

The room fills with the sounds of your strangled moans and your wrist flicking back and forth faster and faster.

“Gonna give her as much as she wants, hm? As much as she can take, isn’t that right?”

He noses along your neck and ear. “Tell me how she feels, baby,” he whispers.

“It–ohmygod– it’s, it feels so good, Joel,” you whine.

“You takin’ good care of that pretty pussy?” he murmurs in a low, gruff voice. 

He rolls one of your nipples gently between two fingers. You nod frantically, your words getting caught in your throat. Joel wants to hear you say it, though. He gives a small squeeze to your side and gives a hush of “go on, say it” against your ear.

“I-I’m taking care of my pretty pussy,” you cry out.

Joel grunts in approval and toys with your breasts and nipples with faster, harder movements.

“Fuck, that’s it. Doin’ so good, too. Wish you could see how fuckin’ good you look right now, baby,” he coos.

“I-I– Mmgod. It’s building up. Down there,” you explain frantically. 

“I’ve got you. Let yourself feel all of it. You’re safe. Just focus on how it feels,” he urges.

You rub frenzied circles on your sensitive nub as your lower belly starts to feel tighter and tighter. Without thinking, you listen to your body’s command to have something inside you. You take your other hand where it had been holding onto Joel and insert two fingers up to the knuckle into your needy, drenched hole. There’s no resistance as they slide right in, and your hips jerk and roll with the added sensation. You’re riding your own fingers on top of Joel’s lap as you furiously rub your clit.

“Joel!” you wail in a rabid pitch when the sensation has almost pushed you to the point of what you think you can stand.

“S’okay. Let it happen, baby. I’m right here.”

“Mmmm it’s gonna– oh my god,” you let out in a hoarse, broken cry. You buck away from Joel’s chest as the crescendo of pleasure compels your entire body to lift upward.“OH MY GOD, it’s right there, Joel. I feel it. It’s right there. It’s–ohmygod. Baby! Baby, please. Oh fuck!”

Your vision goes flat for a moment as an explosive sensation erupts through the lower half of your body. You’re shaking and writhing on top of Joel, whose strong arms are holding you against his chest and keeping you from flinging yourself off the couch from the intensity of your orgasm. Tears stream from the corners of your eyes. It’s so much, but it all feels so amazing.

You’re chanting Joel’s name as if you’re searching for him. He wraps his arms around you tighter and pulls you snug against him. You vaguely hear his lauding - did such a good job, such a good girl, look so beautiful - as you struggle to align yourself with the present. You feel as though you’ve sprinted through an entire marathon. Your jaw is slack. Your eyes loll to the back of your head until the irises disappear under your lids. You’re trembling underneath Joel’s hold and whimpering in surrender to the sensations gripping your body. You grab hold of his forearms like they’re a swim buoy keeping you afloat.

The tide of your climax pulls at you until it finally recedes back into an ocean of calm. You’re awash in a floaty sort of feeling. You can sense every part of your body and how it sings with relief and satiety. You can feel yourself settling into a quiet sleep. You feel Joel freeing himself from underneath you and positioning you to lie down again on the couch. Something soft and heavy covers your body.

Your mind is quiet while your body sings. You drift in and out of awareness, your eyes lifting every now and then at a sound or shuffling nearby. Something dips into the couch beside you. Something that sounds musical reaches your ears.

“Figure I can’t sound half bad when you’re just about knocked out,” Joel laughs, mostly to himself. 

Some light strumming. Some harmonious chords.

“Been playin’ this one a lot. Reminds me’uh you,” he says softly.

A pleasant, melodic cadence fills the air. It’s gentle. A plucking lullaby sort of sound. You sigh at the way it feels like there’s another warm blanket over top of you just from listening to it. You drift off quickly to the song Joel plays for you.

Guys, I will try very hard to release ch10 next week, but these bits of the story are harder for me to get through on like a personal level or whatever. So if it is ready next week I'll post it. If not, I'll update y'all on the progress and a new tentative release day. Tysm for reading!

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[thedragonagelesbian]

FOR THE SPOTS TO KISS PROMPT - 29. a kiss on the inside of the wrist.

Spots to Kiss

@omgkalyppso tyty both sm for the prompt-- i adore hand kissing so much..................... the of all time...........................................

29. a kiss on the inside of the wrist

(set vvv late act 3)

"It's spread so much..." Sosiel sat on Kyr's bed with a frown as he tried to rub some semblance of warmth into the winter witch's forearm. Of all the magic embedded in the dhampir's body, nothing concerned Sosiel more than this suppressor sigil. Tendrils of arcane ice etched into Kyr's skin to dampen the worst--the hungriest--of his nature. When they first met, it had been confined to his shoulder. Now, the frostbitten magic extended from the nape of his neck down to his wrist, reaching reaching reaching toward the tips of his fingers. "Are you sure about this?"

"About what?"

Sosiel's fingers trembled as they caressed Kyr's skin. Working, aching, praying for a miracle of shared body heat and friction. Kyr had assured him before that the cold did not bother him, but there was still the numbness, intermittent paralysis along the length of his left arm. And the pain each time Kyr poured more magic into the sigil, forcing it to expand.

And, worst of all, knowing why he kept doing it.

"About us. I love you, but," Sosiel bit his lip hard, "if I am too much of a burden--"

"I never said that." With his right hand, Kyr took Sosiel by the jaw and tilted his head back. His gaze--the Aeon's gaze--was singular, steady, blank... save for the slightest wrinkling in his forehead. "I would never say that."

"Forgive me," Sosiel said quickly, squirming until Kyr released his face. "I did not mean to imply that you had, but... Powerful emotions weaken the sigil, and every time you have to strengthen it again, it spreads, and so every time that we are together, either you are at risk of your appetites returning, or... or you have to hurt yourself to maintain control."

Struck by the fear and the conviction that this would be their last time so close to one another, Sosiel's grip on Kyr's forearm tightened. He should've let go. For Kyr's sake, no matter how much it shattered both their hearts, he should've pulled away.

Instead, he took Kyr's hand and pulled it up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles, thumb, palm, heel, the edges of frost etched into the inside of his wrist, where he lingered. Everything about Kyr's body was sharp, but tucked away here, lips between bones, was something almost soft like marrow.

"It is such terrible work," Sosiel murmured against his skin, "just to be with me."

"Sosiel..." He had gotten very good at detecting it: the minuscule warble and imperceptible hitch indicating the tidal wave of emotions that Kyr was holding back, never more pronounced than when he sighed Sosiel's name like that. Wax poured between the three syllables, soh-see-el, hot and smooth where the rest of him was cold and stiff. And Kyr tightened again as he swallowed and continued: "You say 'just' as if our relationship is trivial to me. It is not. Second to my duties as Aeon and Knight Commander, there is nothing in this life more important to me than you."

From Kyr, there was never any clumsy poetry or fumbling romantic gestures. Just a sincerity so painfully direct that it left Sosiel rubbed raw. Tender all over. And as much as he yearned to sink into that tenderness and banish all his doubts, he insisted, "But is it worth all this? This painful game you must play with your body? Am I..." his voice broke, "Am I worth it?"

"Yes." Kyr touched his face again-- the furrowed brow this time, smoothing away the wrinkles with his thumb, lips feather-light upon his forehead. "But you require more than that. I will explain myself. Feeling is inescapable in this life outside of my sire's lab, and so I must play this 'game' always. Forever. Whether it is the revulsion at the Worldwound or the bliss of setting it back to order, the joy of a bird's song in the morning or- or the fear that the sigil's magic will run out and you will see me for the ravenous monster that I am, it does not matter. Everything must be either tempered or compensated for to avoid becoming what I was.

"And if the specificity of the emotion does not matter, as the sigil will weaken anyway, and if being with you brings me more happiness than I ever thought myself capable of..."

Kyr shivered, and the ice in his skin began to splinter. Crack. Melt. Droplets of water budding underneath Sosiel's fingertips. He reached for a cloth to dry them, but Kyr caught him in a kiss instead. Whatever the vetala-born might have lacked in fangs, he made up for with sheer, bruising force. Direct. Sincere. Sosiel gasped into Kyr's mouth. All his breath stolen away, and with it all his worries. About Kyr, himself, the Worldwound and its horrors weighing so heavy on his soul.

And the longer he kissed Kyr, the longer it would be until those worries came back again.

"Of course you are worth it."

[bisexual-horror-fan]

uhh i think this may have been asked before but do you think you could do anything with the Sinclairs for multi may? they just own my heart, soul, an brain.

Well of course you can have this Anon! Since you didn’t give me a prompt, which is fine, I went with one provided by @early20sfailingplenty, sweet Eri baby gave me the idea of a reader who sees Bo in particular being hurt and just fights back for him. It’s a really good idea! Plus a way to do some angsty, hurt, comfort sort of thing! That is important to me because I love Multi-May and I love showing all sides of polyamory, giving it depth and showing it isn’t just about the fucking. Like this piece, it’s also about killing for the killer, you know?

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.7K. Bo Sinclair And Vincent Sinlair And Lester Sinclair X GN! Reader. Poly!Hinge Sinclairs. No Pronouns Specified. Warnings: Angst. Hurt. Comfort. Murder. Kidnapping. Stockholm Syndrome. Violence. Blood. Gore. Reader Is Hopelessly Devoted. Crying Reader. Hard Emotions.

—

Yes I Can.

—

You remember the day that you knew you’d do anything for any of them and that day was after you had been in Ambrose for exactly a month, you were sure by that point that you weren't going to die by their hands. 

Maybe that was ignorant, perhaps downright fucking stupid to think that but you did, some deeply held feeling that clings to you, as if it was bone deep and settling into your marrow, you were thoroughly steeped in the belief that you would be okay with them. You were more than okay honestly, you considered Ambrose your home, it was infinitely better than your old one, you were happy here, you felt shockingly free even considering the fact that you literally were not allowed to leave and still live. 

You never entertained the notion of a polyamorous relationship before them, but how were you meant to choose just one? It wasn’t fair, and all of them gave you different things, that was the beauty of the setup, hardwired into the whole very concept of it, trying to get everything out of one relationship and one person is unrealistic, with them you more than had all your needs met. 

Such a shift took more time to establish, Lester was the first and easiest, he really took to how kind you were, wanting to talk with him, spend time with him, genuinely get to know him. Times where you just sat with him and talked meant more than he thinks he could say, the easy physical affection and that you didn’t lean away from him or when he tried to touch him was huge, the fact you initiated contact just as much as he did was everything. 

Vincent came next because you were so into his art and honestly because you poured a ton of effort into cooking, the three of them frequently got so fucking busy that proper cleaning, care and good food fell by the wayside, but now with you here that was a thing of the past. Having actual good meals, not toaster waffles that were burnt on the outside but somehow still frozen on the inside, did wonders not just for his mood but his creative drive and overall well being. The times you would bring a steaming plate to him and tell him to stop working were the highlights of his days.

Bo had not yet been won over. No matter the sweet things you said, the things you did for him, and no not even as enthusiastically you gave into whatever game he wanted to play or offered yourself up, he wasn’t moved. If anything it made you try harder. You had gotten closer with him, sure, in the physical sense and he wasn’t quite as asshole-ish to you overall, which you took as a plus and that you would get him the rest of the way there with time. You weren’t in a rush, you had all the time in the world, didn’t you? 

You cared a ton about all of them and would do just about anything for them, you thought maybe if you proved that one day to all of them you could be a true equal and really earn your place in Ambrose. 

The idea struck you one day when some people rolled through Ambrose, you did as instructed, stayed out of the way. You didn't let yourself be seen and watched what happened, took in the view as the group of people met the fate that you almost had. 

The trio were all totally brutal, but you knew that when they killed your friends who didn’t survive like you had, still seeing it once more, against this group of strangers, fresh in your mind, it makes you scared. Not for your own life! God no, far from it, you were worried for them. Bo and Vincent and Lester were all very capable and had been doing this for a long time without issue, but what if the day comes where they are not so lucky? Everyone has an off day now and again. It was sweet, you were concerned, it was preventive, you took your new life here very seriously and you would make them see it eventually, no matter what, you’d show them. 

You approach Lester to try and make what you had in mind happen. He had just come back from his usual daily work out at the pit, it was afternoon, it was hot as hell but you were downwind and didn’t have to contend with the smell, thank God. You loved Lester but post pit he smelt awful, especially during the summer months. 

“Hiya Les!” You greet enthusiastically and his head jerks up, a smile spreading across his face, he says your name in kind and in greeting before asking, “How ya doin’?”

“Oh just fine, wanted to check in on you.” It was honest, and he said, “Ain’t that sweet of ya?” 

You came over and he pressed a kiss to your cheek that made you smile, “You want some lunch?”

“I’d love some. Back to the house?” He asks and you nod your head, “Mmhm, either way you gotta get washed up first.” 

He holds up his hands, smeared with dirt and God knows what else, “You’re right, s’ prolly best.” 

You start your walk back up to the house, you already made lunch earlier on, and you start the conversation you wanted to have along the way, “So I wanted to ask maybe a small favour.”

“A favour, huh?” He asks but the tone is still light as air and you say, “Yeah, you think that might be okay?”

“Ain’t illegal to ask but doesn’t mean I’ll answer.” He teases and you laugh, “True, alright, so I was thinking the other day and I was wondering if maybe you wouldn’t mind teaching me some uh, self defence skills?”

He laughs, “Self defence skills? What? You don’t trust all a’ us to look after ya?” He asks, his shoulder nudging yours and you roll your eyes in amused exasperation, “No, it’s not that, it’s more the opposite.”

“Tha opposite?” He inquires and you affirm, “Yeah, I wanna do my part, you know? What if some asshole gets the drop on you or Vin or Bo and I’m near enough to do something about it but don’t have the know how. I dunno if I could ever forgive myself.” 

He stops, his hands are on your shoulders, effectively stopping you as well and making you turn to face him, you are both in front of the house at this point as he asks, “Ya wanna protect us?”

You avert your gaze and nod, the admission is small yet heartfelt, “Yeah, I do.”

“So why are you comin’ to me?” He asks and you fire back with a shrug, “Why not?”

“Pffft, Iunno, Bo’s and Vincent are bigger than me, pretty tough an’ strong, going to them makes sense.” You cross your arms and assert, eyes still on the ground, “You make sense too! Especially for what I want-”

“An what do you want?” He asks and you finally meet his gaze again, “Help me with learning some knife skills?”

He laughed, his hand fell away and he turned and started up the steps. You rush after him, confused, “What’s so funny?” 

A look over his shoulder and he sighed, “You. Yer too much.”

“Why? Why am I too much?” You ask as you catch up with him as he opens the screen door, “Cuz you think I’d willingly give ya a knife? If Bo finds out? Shit, taint worth thinkin’ about.” 

“Lesterrrr, c’mon! Why not? I won’t do anything to any of you! I want to help you all!” You argued and you were both striding through the living room now, “An’ how do I know that? Could be all kindsa pretty talk till I hand it over and than whoops I’m stabbed and you run off-”

Your breath catches and you stop. He hears it, the small sniff, he turns in the doorway to the kitchen to see you stopped a few feet away, you say softly and apparently on the verge of tears, “I’d never do that to you. Any of you.” 

He groans, hat off, back of his hand wipes over his forehead and smears more dirt, he replaces it back onto his head and comes forward, “Don’ cry.”

You wipe at your eyes, you know Lester likes it when you cry, just not in this particular context, it wasn’t fun for him and made HIM feel bad more than anything positive. “M’ sorry, I know you don’t li-like when I do, I can’t help it though. I just love you all so much and I’m worried.” 

Your shoulders were still shuddering and he cursed before asking, “I know, I know ya love us. Just…You mean it? You won’t do nothin’ less absolutely necessary?”

A nod as you wipe at your eyes, breathing starting to even out, a deep inhale as you try to compose yourself and he says, “Alright but keep it quiet! I mean it, if Bo finds out he’ll-”

“I won’t say anything! It’ll be our secret, and I won’t do anything unless absolutely necessary.” You plead, repeating his exact words back and he says, “Aight. M’ trustin’ you. Don’ make me regret it.” 

“I won’t! Thank you Les! You won’t!” You throw your arms around him into a big hug and he laughs, “Fine, we can go over some stuff but first, lunch.”

“Yes, lunch.” You agree and soon you are in the kitchen, he washes up and you both eat, conversation on lighter things, and afterwards he did just as he said he would. You go back to his space and he shows you the knives he had countless times before and instructed you how to use them the most effectively.

“Now you can’t stab someone too hard, ya hear? You just gotta put your all into it, an’ go for it. Try for the throat if you can but if not the gut ain’t bad neither, you get it deep enough and reef it up an’ it’ll stop just about anyone.”

You listen with rapt attention, trying to absorb absolutely everything he said and after all that, he gifted you one that you could safely keep on your person at all times. You thanked him and tried not to cry for the second time that afternoon, at least this time the tears that threatened to spill over were happy ones. You told him you were going to treasure it always and assured him, you’d never use it on him or Bo or Vincent. 

“Ya better not, cuz if ya try I might just have to turn it back on you.” He teased but you could hear the edge undercutting it and you nodded, “I’d expect nothing less.” 

That wasn’t all of it, you made sure to watch whenever Vincent used those twin knives, really tried to focus on the brutality he displayed as well as the technique. You just hoped that you would never have to actually put the decently sized folding knife concealed on your person to actual use. 

As the days bled to weeks and turned to months you started to relax, you felt like maybe you were being silly, that your fears were unfounded. People would come to town and they would fall with minimal issue, life kept on going and you thought everything would be just fine as it always had been.

One day some more people came into town and you went about your regular routine, as you always did, made yourself scarce. You knew the safe areas you needed to keep to and where to avoid, during times like this you didn’t do much, hold up in your locked room and usually read a book. It wasn’t unusual to hear some sounds, some screams, some scuffle, it was natural, easy to tune out and you stopped getting so nervous as you used to. 

Tonight was different. It was loud, unbearably loud, more than you had ever heard previously. You did something you shouldn’t have, you peeked out your upstairs room window and gasped at what you saw. Bo, mid-scuffle with some guy and currently taking what looked like a terrible punch to the jaw, made him unbalanced and then, someone else was sneaking up behind him that he was clearly not aware of. You did what you definitely never, ever should do and that was, break one of the biggest rules, you got involved. You busted out of your room, you ran down the hall and the stairs were taken two at a time until you were coming out the front door, knife in hand and it wasn’t until Lester was shaking your shoulders that you came back to yourself. 

“What?” You ask and Lester repeats himself, “I said are you alright? You hurt?” 

You look up at him, brows furrowed and you ask, “Why would I be hurt?” 

“Cuz you’re covered in blood?” He sounded just as confused as you did and that is when you looked down and holy shit, yes you were. It all hit at once, you were sticky, a complete mess, gripping the knife in your hand so hard that your knuckles were aching, you felt sore but overall fine. 

“I guess I am.” You admit still dazed, you are in the kitchen of the house, you don’t know when you got from the outside back into here but you were now and you see Vincent working on patching up a pretty rough looking Bo. You were in a chair and Lester was crouched in front of you, “What happened?”

You think hard, you remember seeing the fight, Bo getting hurt, and someone else about to jump him, you remember running out to him and then the rest comes into focus.

You took out the knife from the waistband of your shorts and you tackled the person who had wrestled Bo’s shotgun from him, driving the knife right under their ribs as you did so. You crashed to the ground, landing on top of them, the force of the action causes the blade to go deeper still, you are pretty sure by the way they wheezed you punctured a lung. Blood pours from around the embedded blade and you sit up quickly, ripping out the knife, your fingers on your opposite are tangled in sweat soaked hair and you slam their head back onto the concrete with a wet sounded crack. 

They weren’t moving any longer. You let them go. You are heaving when you get up and turn to see the other person staring you down, your hands are coated with blood as well as it soaking into your shirt and smearing down your legs. The other person who punched Bo looked terrified and you didn’t waste time, you took them down in a similar fashion, that one ended with you also getting a pretty bad punch but with the other body below you with his throat slashed open. After you were sure neither were getting up you stayed next to Bo and the next thing you really remember is this, now, being in the kitchen with them.

You tell them, “They hurt Bo and I just…Had to do something.”

To say they were all shocked was an understatement. Bo got up, and Lester got out of the way, he was staring you down, a hand on his bandaged ribs and he said, “You were pretty sadistic back there.”

You almost waited for him to scold you, but that didn’t happen, “You really did that for me?”

A nod, nervous as you admit, “Yeah…Told you, I love you, all of you, don’t want anything bad to happen to any of you.”

“Seems you really do belong here. And maybe it’s the delirium talkin’ but, M’ feeling so generous that I won’t even ask where you got the knife.” You feel happy, you smile and ask, “So I did good?”

“Very good. It was stupid as all hell and risky but shit if you didn’t do it well.” That had to be one of the nicest things he has said to you so far. You feel nearly giddy and hold your arms out and ask, “Can I uhm…Have a hug?”  

He laughs, a shake of his head, “Well if you haven’t earned it by doin’ this then you never will.” 

“Not just you but uh…All of you? Please?” 

Vincent saunters up, a sign of, “I think we can manage it.”

Still blood soaked and sweaty, shaking and sore you are wrapped up in three sets of arms and you feel more at home than you ever have. 

[the-chronicle-of-holy-days]

Day 2

Liber LXV Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente

IV

O crystal heart! I the Serpent clasp Thee; I drive home mine head into the central core of Thee, O God my beloved.

Even as on the resounding wind-swept heights of Mitylene some god-like woman casts aside the lyre, and with her locks aflame as an aureole, plunges into the wet heart of the creation, so I, O Lord my God!

There is a beauty unspeakable in this heart of corruption, where the flowers are aflame.

Ah me! but the thirst of Thy joy parches up this throat, so that I cannot sing.

I will make me a little boat of my tongue, and explore the unknown rivers. It may be that the everlasting salt may turn to sweetness, and that my life may be no longer athirst.

O ye that drink of the brine of your desire, ye are nigh to madness! Your torture increaseth as ye drink, yet still ye drink. Come up through the creeks to the fresh water; I shall be waiting for you with my kisses.

As the bezoar-stone that is found in the belly of the cow, so is my lover among lovers.

O honey boy! Bring me Thy cool limbs hither! Let us sit awhile in the orchard, until the sun go down! Let us feast on the cool grass! Bring wine, ye slaves, that the cheeks of my boy may flush red.

In the garden of immortal kisses, O thou brilliant One, shine forth! Make Thy mouth an opium-poppy, that one kiss is the key to the infinite sleep and lucid, the sleep of Shi-loh-am.

In my sleep I beheld the Universe like a clear crystal without one speck.

There are purse-proud penniless ones that stand at the door of the tavern and prate of their feats of wine-bibbing.

There are purse-proud penniless ones that stand at the door of the tavern and revile the guests.

The guests dally upon couches of mother-of-pearl in the garden; the noise of the foolish men is hidden from them.

Only the inn-keeper feareth lest the favour of the king be withdrawn from him.

Thus spake the Magister V.V.V.V.V. unto Adonai his God, as they played together in the starlight over against the deep black pool that is in the Holy Place of the Holy House beneath the Altar of the Holiest One.

But Adonai laughed, and played more languidly.

Then the scribe took note, and was glad. But Adonai had no fear of the Magician and his play.

For it was Adonai who had taught all his tricks to the Magician.

And the Magister entered into the play of the Magician. When the Magician laughed he laughed; all as a man should do.

And Adonai said: Thou art enmeshed in the web of the Magician. This He said subtly, to try him.

But the Magister gave the sign of the Magistry, and laughed back on Him: O Lord, O beloved, did these fingers relax on Thy curls, or these eyes turn away from Thine eye?

And Adonai delighted in him exceedingly.

Yea, O my master, thou art the beloved of the Beloved One; the Bennu Bird is set up in Philæ not in vain.

I who was the priestess of Ahathoor rejoice in your love. Arise, O Nile-God, and devour the holy place of the Cow of Heaven! Let the milk of the stars be drunk up by Sebek the dweller of Nile!

Arise, O serpent Apep, Thou art Adonai the beloved one! Thou art my darling and my lord, and Thy poison is sweeter than the kisses of Isis the mother of the Gods!

For Thou art He! Yea, Thou shalt swallow up Asi and Asar, and the children of Ptah. Thou shalt pour forth a flood of poison to destroy the works of the Magician. Only the Destroyer shall devour Thee; Thou shalt blacken his throat, wherein his spirit abideth. Ah, serpent Apep, but I love Thee!

My God! Let Thy secret fang pierce to the marrow of the little secret bone that I have kept against the Day of Vengeance of Hoor-Ra. Let Kheph-Ra sound his sharded drone! let the jackals of Day and Night howl in the wilderness of Time! let the Towers of the Universe totter, and the guardians hasten away! For my Lord hath revealed Himself as a mighty serpent, and my heart is the blood of His body.

I am like a love-sick courtesan of Corinth. I have toyed with kings and captains, and made them my slaves. To-day I am the slave of the little asp of death; and who shall loosen our love?

Weary, weary! saith the scribe, who shall lead me to the sight of the Rapture of my master?

The body is weary and the soul is sore weary and sleep weighs down their eyelids; yet ever abides the sure consciousness of ecstacy, unknown, yet known in that its being is certain. O Lord, be my helper, and bring me to the bliss of the Beloved!

I came to the house of the Beloved, and the wine was like fire that flieth with green wings through the world of waters.

I felt the red lips of nature and the black lips of perfection. Like sisters they fondled me their little brother; they decked me out as a bride; they mounted me for Thy bridal chamber.

They fled away at Thy coming; I was alone before Thee.

I trembled at Thy coming, O my God, for Thy messenger was more terrible than the Death-star.

On the threshold stood the fulminant figure of Evil, the Horror of emptiness, with his ghastly eyes like poisonous wells. He stood, and the chamber was corrupt; the air stank. He was an old and gnarled fish more hideous than the shells of Abaddon.

He enveloped me with his demon tentacles; yea, the eight fears took hold upon me.

But I was anointed with the right sweet oil of the Magister; I slipped from the embrace as a stone from the sling of a boy of the woodlands.

I was smooth and hard as ivory; the horror gat no hold. Then at the noise of the wind of Thy coming he was dissolved away, and the abyss of the great void was unfolded before me.

Across the waveless sea of eternity Thou didst ride with Thy captains and Thy hosts; with Thy chariots and horsemen and spearmen didst Thou travel through the blue.

Before I saw Thee Thou wast already with me; I was smitten through by Thy marvellous spear.

I was stricken as a bird by the bolt of the thunderer; I was pierced as the thief by the Lord of the Garden.

O my Lord, let us sail upon the sea of blood!

There is a deep taint beneath the ineffable bliss; it is the taint of generation.

Yea, though the flower wave bright in the sunshine, the root is deep in the darkness of earth.

Praise to thee, O beautiful dark earth, thou art the mother of a million myriads of myriads of flowers.

Also I beheld my God, and the countenance of Him was a thousandfold brighter than the lightning. Yet in his heart I beheld the slow and dark One, the ancient one, the devourer of His children.

In the height and the abyss, O my beautiful, there is no thing, verily, there is no thing at all, that is not altogether and perfectly fashioned for Thy delight.

Light cleaveth unto Light, and filth to filth; with pride one contemneth another. But not Thou, who art all, and beyond it; who art absolved from the Division of the Shadows.

O day of Eternity, let Thy wave break in foamless glory of sapphire upon the laborious coral of our making!

We have made us a ring of glistening white sand, strewn wisely in the midst of the Delightful Ocean.

Let the palms of brilliance flower upon our island; we shall eat of their fruit, and be glad.

But for me the lustral water, the great ablution, the dissolving of the soul in that resounding abyss.

I have a little son like a wanton goat; my daughter is like an unfledged eaglet; they shall get them fins, that they may swim.

That they may swim, O my beloved, swim far in the warm honey of Thy being, O blessed one, O boy of beatitude!

This heart of mine is girt about with the serpent that devoureth his own coils.

When shall there be an end, O my darling, O when shall the Universe and the Lord thereof be utterly swallowed up?

Nay! who shall devour the Infinite? who shall undo the Wrong of the Beginning?

Thou criest like a white cat upon the roof of the Universe; there is none to answer Thee.

Thou art like a lonely pillar in the midst of the sea; there is none to behold Thee, O Thou who beholdest all!

Thou dost faint, thou dost fail, thou scribe; cried the desolate Voice; but I have filled thee with a wine whose savour thou knowest not.

It shall avail to make drunken the people of the old gray sphere that rolls in the infinite Far-off; they shall lap the wine as dogs that lap the blood of a beautiful courtesan pierced through by the Spear of a swift rider through the city.

I too am the Soul of the desert; thou shalt seek me yet again in the wilderness of sand.

At thy right hand a great lord and a comely; at thy left hand a woman clad in gossamer and gold and having the stars in her hair. Ye shall journey far into a land of pestilence and evil; ye shall encamp in the river of a foolish city forgotten; there shall ye meet with Me.

There will I make Mine habitation; as for bridal will I come bedecked and anointed; there shall the Consummation be accomplished.

O my darling, I also wait for the brilliance of the hour ineffable, when the universe shall be like a girdle for the midst of the ray of our love, extending beyond the permitted end of the endless One.

Then, O thou heart, will I the serpent eat thee wholly up; yea, I will eat thee wholly up

Oooh my this is MY chapter from top to bottom ✨✨✨ this year’s favorite is with bold

Tarot card source: https://www.weasyl.com/~blackantlers/submissions/124594/tarot-on-growth-decay

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

13th October >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Twenty Eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)

(Liturgical Colour: Green. Year: B(II))

First Reading Wisdom 7:7-11 I esteemed Wisdom more than sceptres or thrones.

I prayed, and understanding was given me; I entreated, and the spirit of Wisdom came to me. I esteemed her more than sceptres and thrones; compared with her, I held riches as nothing. I reckoned no priceless stone to be her peer, for compared with her, all gold is a pinch of sand, and beside her silver ranks as mud. I loved her more than health or beauty, preferred her to the light, since her radiance never sleeps. In her company all good things came to me, at her hands riches not to be numbered.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 89(90):12-17

R/ Fill us with your love so that we may rejoice.

Make us know the shortness of our life that we may gain wisdom of heart. Lord, relent! Is your anger for ever? Show pity to your servants.

R/ Fill us with your love so that we may rejoice.

In the morning, fill us with your love; we shall exult and rejoice all our days. Give us joy to balance our affliction for the years when we knew misfortune.

R/ Fill us with your love so that we may rejoice.

Show forth your work to your servants; let your glory shine on their children. Let the favour of the Lord be upon us: give success to the work of our hands.

R/ Fill us with your love so that we may rejoice.

Second Reading Hebrews 4:12-13 The word of God cuts more finely than a double-edged sword.

The word of God is something alive and active: it cuts like any double-edged sword but more finely: it can slip through the place where the soul is divided from the spirit, or joints from the marrow; it can judge the secret emotions and thoughts. No created thing can hide from him; everything is uncovered and open to the eyes of the one to whom we must give account of ourselves.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation Matthew 11:25

Alleluia, alleluia! Blessed are you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for revealing the mysteries of the kingdom to mere children. Alleluia!

Or: Matthew 5:3

Alleluia, alleluia! How happy are the poor in spirit: theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Alleluia!

Gospel Mark 10:17-30 Give everything you own to the poor, and follow me.

Jesus was setting out on a journey when a man ran up, knelt before him and put this question to him, ‘Good master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: You must not kill; You must not commit adultery; You must not steal; You must not bring false witness; You must not defraud; Honour your father and mother.’ And he said to him, ‘Master, I have kept all these from my earliest days.’ Jesus looked steadily at him and loved him, and he said, ‘There is one thing you lack. Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ But his face fell at these words and he went away sad, for he was a man of great wealth. Jesus looked round and said to his disciples, ‘How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God!’ The disciples were astounded by these words, but Jesus insisted, ‘My children,’ he said to them ‘how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.’ They were more astonished than ever. ‘In that case’ they said to one another ‘who can be saved?’ Jesus gazed at them. ‘For men’ he said ‘it is impossible, but not for God: because everything is possible for God.’ Peter took this up. ‘What about us?’ he asked him. ‘We have left everything and followed you.’ Jesus said, ‘I tell you solemnly, there is no one who has left house, brothers, sisters, father, children or land for my sake and for the sake of the gospel who will not be repaid a hundred times over, houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and land – not without persecutions – now in this present time and, in the world to come, eternal life.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[secretlywritingstories]

Today I watched my father talk to a young girl standing right by the train tracks in her pyjamas. It ended well, she got down, but to be confronted with suicidal tendencies so viscerally feels like it cracked open something within me.

She was 17. More than ten years my junior. A child.

From what my dad could rather, she'd been in institutions since she was 13 and she'd walked away from one nearby where they house youth with psychological problems. He'd been taking the dogs out in the early morning before work, and heard someone crying. We have a strong torch to light up the garden to keep an eye on the dogs and he managed to spot her on the tracks up on the hill behind the house.

I was called down with clothes and took over the torch, standing in the doorway shivering as my hand trembled. Keeping the light on her. Letting her know that there was someone watching. She wasn't alone.

My dad made it around the house to the pathway by the tracks and just moments later a train drove by. Drove by her, where she lingered only a meter from the track. Another train in the opposite direction going by, also making it past her without causing her harm.

I heard how my dad tried to talk to her. Just catching snippets of conversation and her voice filled with tears and hopelessness. A few tears slipped out from me when she said that they'd told her it would get better at 13 but it hadn't, so why would it now?

I called 112 and shakily explained the situation first to the main operator and later to someone from the police. They were sending a car immediately. Our police is trained to handle this kind of thing. I was asked to stay on the line with the lady and keep her updated on the situation.

The girl on up on the hill crouched down, sitting down, still talking to my dad, now in a more hushed voice. A new train approached. She stayed seated and a breath of relief left me. The police pulled up only minutes later, just as my dad had started to convince her to start coming down to be checked out at the emergency room.

It wasn't too cold a night but it was still early January and she was not dressed for the weather. We don't know how long she'd been out there. The police took over, I hung up the phone and closed the backdoor. It was only then that the chill of the morning and my own lack of proper clothes hit me. I felt cold into my marrow, but I am not sure it was the brisk air.

I got dressed for work through only the familiar mechanics. Went to check quickly on my dad who was coming back to the house and then just got in my car to get to work. It was an odd day. Everything felt a little off.

When I got home, I spoke with both of my parents about it, but I am not sure it's really settled into me yet. I hope she is now getting the help that she needs. I hope that whatever drove her up walking along and on those tracks can be tamed.

I don't know her, I likely won't ever know her, but I want to tell the universe to watch out for her all the same. I want her to be okay. I want everyone who ever feels like that to have the strength to weather it.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Hey Michelle! Can I ask #11, #17, #20, #47 for our little ask game? 😘

Ooooh these are great questions! 🥰

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

In general I'd call myself a "semi" researcher. Sometimes I go really in-depth with it, others I will allow myself a bit of leeway. I'll say fics that tend to have a more medical situation I try to do more research on. For example, Not Losing You deals with Dean having cancer and I was extremely nervous about getting the details right. A part of that story deals with Dean needing a bone marrow transplant and I discovered that patients that have the procedure done have a ~60% survival rate 1 year post transplant (when you factor in a bunch of stuff like non-familiar donors). It's a risky procedure for sure. It's not a guarantee but if you make it that far, your odds increase with each year and many people end up living full life spans without recurrence. Science has always been incredibly interesting to me so I love discovering facts like that.

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

That's a tough one. I'm limiting myself to Dean stuff for this just so it doesn't take me five years to dig through a 1,000 fics 😂

From Love Her (because the whole story builds towards this):

“I want my dad,” you said. “I’m sorry Y/N but you can’t see your dad right now,” he said. “Why not?” you asked. “Well it’s a little dangerous and-” “I want my dad. I want Dean,” you said, staring up at him. “I want to see my dad.”

From Broken Like Me (because this story deals heavily with body image issues and this moment is a turning point for the reader):

“How can you say that,” you said, trying to pull his hands away from your face but failing. “I’m not pretty without the scar and with it I’m hideous.” “Agree to disagree,” he said, sliding a hand up, tracing over the skin. “I know you hate this but I love it.” “Why?” you asked, fighting back another round of sniffles. “It means you’re alive. I got a chance to meet you and now I get to be with you,” he said. “I wish you could see that and it’s okay that you don’t. Maybe someday you will.”

From Unconventional (because the SASS on this girl is some of my favorite):

“Yes, Mr. Carter?” “That is a beautiful collar,” he said. “I suppose. I like yours too,” you said. “I’m not wearing a collar, Omega.” “My mistake. I see you wearing that tie and my little Omega brain goes someone left your leash on you,” you said, giving him a smile. Dean bit down a smile as you picked up your lemonade, John smirking as Mr. Carter cleared his throat. “If you were my Omega, I’d have you muted,” said Carter. “If I were your Omega, I’d off myself,” you said.

Okay, last one from 39 Hours because it just sets the tone of who Dean is and his goals so fast (and explains the title):

“A case goes cold after the first 48 hours statistically. Out here in the small town environment, I put that at 45. You were taken from your home at approximately 2:30 this morning. You escaped the vehicle you were in approximately twenty minutes later, did a combination of hiding and running for the next several hours until you worked your way back to town where at such time authorities were called. You were taken back to the scene at which point it was determined that my guy is the one that took you. It took me another two hours to get here, twenty minutes of getting up to speed and it’s already 8:45 so I’ve really only got 38 hours and 45 minutes left,” said Dean, glancing over at you. “How much more of my time would you like to waste?”

20. what is your favorite trope to write?

This is a tough one. I love so many of them but there's something about a good enemies to lovers. There's immediate angst and conflict to play with naturally from the characters on top of the plot. A lot of my favorite stories I've written have that theme I've noticed without even realizing.

47. what story are you most proud of?

Much like you, the stories that get a big emotional response or people have told me have helped them through a bad day or time mean the absolute world to me. This isn't necessarily the story I'm most proud of because it's hard to pick just one but The Game (Dean x reader) comes to mind.

I'm known for my happy endings and I basically wrote a story where I open with Dean is dead and the reader is grieving which is soooo not my writing style. I'm not a crier and I was crying writing this one. I got comments from people like myself that I know also aren't that way and there's something giddy about making the stone-faced readers sob 😂 But this story also feels real, like it could have easily happened in the show and is something Dean would have done. This is one I highly recommend!

Thanks for the questions Zep! This took me down memory lane looking at old fics again! 💕

[canonicallyobserving911]

WIP Wednesday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

FANON speculation for season 7

I wasn’t tagged by anyone but I wanted to share a snippet from chapter 7 of “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

I’m excited to finish writing Chapter 7 because it starts right after Buck’s mental breakdown and even though he pushed Eddie away at the end of Chapter 3, Eddie’s there to help him pick up the pieces. He literally found Buck lying on his bedroom floor practically unresponsive and after almost three weeks of them not talking to each other, Buck finally lets Eddie in and he explains everything that happened to cause his mental breakdown.

___________

Here’s another snippet from chapter 7 of Buck and Eddie’s early morning conversation after one of Buck’s most difficult therapy sessions.

___________

It’s after 2:00AM and Eddie’s sitting on the couch watching an oldies TV channel that plays nothing but television shows that aired prior to the 1970s.  The volume is on low because he doesn’t want to wake up Buck but he’s surprised when he hears his footsteps coming up the hall.

He looks towards the hallway as Buck enters the room and asks, “Hey… what are you doing up?  Did the sound from the TV wake you?”

“No, I woke up to go to the bathroom but I saw the light and uh… I came in here to check on you.” Buck replies as he sits down next to him.

“I’m ok.  I was too wired to fall asleep so I figured watching reruns of ‘The Three Stooges’ would help.”

“But you’re still awake so… I guess it’s not working.”

Eddie chuckles.  “No it’s not.  I never understood why Moe was always so mean to Larry and Curly.”

He looks at Buck but he notices even though he’s looking in the direction of the TV, he’s actually looking past it.  He realized earlier in the week that it’s another thing Buck’s been doing lately, he zones out in thought but after he processes whatever he’s thinking about, he eventually starts talking so Eddie patiently waits.

As he stares off somewhere into oblivion, Buck remembers all the stories other people told earlier today during his first “Savior baby” support group session and he’s still having a difficult time processing all of it.  One story sticks out from all the rest because there was a teenage boy who shared his story and he reminded him of himself when he was 13 years old.

His name is Eric and he explained the way his parents had him so he could save his brother Dennis who’s seven years older than him.  He said they took one of his kidneys right after his 9th birthday and he’s had multiple painful bone marrow extractions since before he could remember but that’s not all.  Now they want him to donate again but he doesn’t want to do it since the recovery time is long and excruciating.  Eric’s story sounded so familiar to his own story that it made him wonder if life would have been better for everyone if he hadn’t been born.

Buck clears his throat and asks, “Do you ever think about how… it’s not worth it?”

It’s like déjà vu as realization sets in for Eddie because they’ve had this conversation before but their roles were reversed and the question hits him in the chest like a boulder has been dropped on top of it.  As he looks at him, he tries to keep his facial expression neutral but he’s not sure if Buck even notices since he quickly glances at him then looks away.

“Not the therapy. I—I mean…”  He runs his hand over his face and continues. “Is being born even worth it?”  He meets Eddie’s eyes then quickly looks away.  “I mean with all the crap we have to put up with when… dealing with our parents… or in my case… the people who brought me into this world.”

Eddie doesn’t interrupt but he does raise his eyebrows.

Buck clears his throat and nervously rubs his sweaty hands on his thigs to dry them on his sweatpants. “I wanted them to love me but they’ve always had their own selfish reasons for bringing me into the world so…” He trails off.

A loud and uncomfortable silence engulfs the room.

Then after about a minute, in a low voice, Buck continues.  “Maybe things would have been better if I was never born.”  He shrugs his shoulders.  “I mean my defective parts prevented me from being able to do the one thing I was born to do and since I couldn’t do that… I’m just wondering what’s the point of it all since I wasn’t meant to be here in the first place?”

Eddie’s heart shatters at Buck’s words because after all these years, he still hasn’t realized how important he is to them.  Not just to him and Chris but to Maddie, Bobby and the 118 since they all need him.

How will Eddie respond to Buck’s comments👀?

___________

Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 -  Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 -  More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - Will be posted soon.

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I’m enjoying writing this fic because it’s giving me the chance to unravel the mess that was the 6x18 ending for Buck, Eddie and Chris.  Also, it’s taking them places the show refuses to go including Buck finally having a mental breakdown and Eddie being there for him the same way he was there for Eddie in season 5.

Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading

Read chapters 1 - 6 are already available on AO3.