#it’s always presented as like. a blip in their history.

[crowley1990]

Spain hates its Islamic history it’s so weird

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Rule 4: Never meet anyone in his inner circle—no close friends, no family.

There were five rules to being a sugar baby—or so you’d heard.

If an opportunity falls into your lap, you take it.

Everything is purely transactional.

Don’t let the lines blur between your sugar daddy and your personal or professional life.

Never meet anyone in his inner circle—no close friends, no family.

Unless it’s in writing, underlined, signed by two lawyers, and you get a new Hermes handbag afterward, don’t fuck your sugar daddy.

So why was it so damn hard to keep these rules in place when it came to your CEO Remy LeBeau?

The sun beat down relentlessly, the bright light dancing off the water’s surface and reflecting off the gleaming white yacht that loomed before you. Its size was overwhelming, casting a shadow over the jetty, and you couldn’t help but let out a low, incredulous, “Holy shit,” under your breath. The sheer grandeur of it felt like something out of a dream, or perhaps more fittingly, something out of Remy’s world—this world of opulence and power that you still felt like an outsider in.

Remy’s low, amused laugh rang softly beside you, pulling you out of your daze. You glanced over at him, his easy grin already spreading across his face. “Thought y’d like this,” he teased, his voice warm and familiar, full of that smooth drawl that always seemed to disarm you. “We’re just waitin’ on someone—”

He cut himself off abruptly, his gaze shifting past you, something shifting in his posture. His grin widened, and there was a flicker of something genuine, something almost nostalgic, in his expression. “Well, speak o’ the devil,” he murmured, turning toward the approaching figures with that same casual confidence he wore like a second skin.

You followed his gaze, curiosity gnawing at you, and that’s when you saw her.

A blonde-haired woman, poised and graceful, was walking toward you, her long legs carrying her with the kind of effortless elegance that made it impossible not to notice her. Even from a distance, she radiated a kind of quiet authority, a regal confidence that seemed to command attention without her even trying. Every step she took was measured, deliberate, as if she was walking on a stage and the world was watching.

And in a way, they were. Because this wasn’t just any woman. This was Bella Donna Boudreaux.

Your stomach tightened as recognition hit you like a wave. Of course, you knew who she was. You’d seen her in passing before, at the office, her presence always leaving a ripple of whispers in her wake. Her name was spoken in the same breath as Remy’s, their past a topic of endless fascination for those who thrived on gossip. You had seen her in magazines, read articles about her—about her high-profile relationships, her business ventures, her life that seemed as perfectly polished as the image she presented to the world.

And she was Remy’s ex-wife.

Your pulse quickened as Bella Donna approached, her blonde hair catching the sunlight in a way that made her seem almost ethereal. Sunglasses perched atop her head like a crown, she was stunning—of course she was. She had that kind of beauty that felt out of reach, intimidating in its perfection. A mix of elegance and edge, of power and allure, that made you feel like you were on the outside looking in.

The man walking beside her—Richard, you would learn—was tall, his designer suit tailored to perfection, an effortless extension of his old-money status. But he was barely a blip on your radar, because all you could focus on was Bella Donna, and the way Remy’s smile grew just a little wider as she came closer.

“Bella Donna,” Remy greeted her, his voice wrapping around her name like something familiar and intimate. The warmth in his tone made something in your chest tighten, your breath catching ever so slightly. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful. It was that they were beautiful together—two people who knew each other in a way that only years of history could allow.

Bella Donna smiled, a perfect, polished smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Remy,” she said smoothly, her voice carrying that polished elegance you’d expected. She glanced at you briefly, almost like an afterthought, before turning her attention back to Remy. “I see you’re still making an entrance.”

Remy chuckled, his voice light, though there was an edge to it—something subtle, something you couldn’t quite place. “Y’ know me, chère,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Always gotta keep things excitin’.”

Bella Donna’s gaze flicked toward you again, but this time, it wasn’t an afterthought. Her pale blue eyes were sharp, assessing, as though she were sizing you up in the space of a single glance. You felt her take you in—the way you stood beside Remy, the way you were still an outsider in this world she knew so intimately. Her smile never faltered, but there was something underneath it—something cold, something calculated. “And this must be your… companion?” she said, the word dripping with just enough sweetness to make your stomach twist.

The word companion felt like a slap, and you had to force yourself to smile, to push down the sudden rush of insecurity that tightened in your chest. You extended your hand toward her, your voice steady despite the tension swirling in the air. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Bella Donna didn’t take your hand immediately. No—she let the moment hang in the air, her eyes still locked on yours, as though she were deciding whether or not you were worth her time. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she took your hand, her grip firm but not warm. “Likewise,” she said, her smile never quite reaching her eyes. “I imagine you have.”

The tension between the four of you was almost unbearable, an unspoken undercurrent of history and rivalry swirling between Remy, Bella Donna, and you. You could feel it—feel the weight of what she wasn’t saying, the way she was making it clear that, in her eyes, you didn’t belong.

The man beside her, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement, stepped forward, extending his hand to Remy. “Richard,” he introduced himself, his voice smooth and confident, like someone who was used to being at the center of attention. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Remy, ever the charmer, shook his hand with his usual easy confidence, though you could still feel the tension in his posture, the way his body had subtly tensed the moment Bella Donna had arrived. Remy gave Richard a polite nod, but his attention quickly flicked back to Bella Donna, as if he were trying to gauge her mood, to see what she was thinking.

For a moment, you felt like a third wheel in a scene you weren’t meant to be part of, like you were intruding on something private, something that was still very much alive between them. And maybe you were. Maybe Bella Donna was a part of Remy’s life in a way you would never fully understand, and standing here, watching them interact, only made that more apparent.

“So,” Bella Donna said lightly, her tone deceptively casual as she looked back at Remy. “You’re taking her out on this?” She gestured toward the yacht, her smile sharp, her eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to him. “I see you’re still quite the showman.”

Remy chuckled, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Gotta keep things interestin’, chère. Y’ know how it is.”

Her lips curved into a smirk, and there was something in her eyes—something knowing, something that made your stomach churn. “Oh, I know,” she said softly. “I know you very well.”

The tension between them was palpable, thickening the air around you like a storm about to break. You could feel it—*feel* the weight of their history, the unspoken words hanging between them, the familiarity that made your chest tighten with something akin to jealousy.

You glanced at Remy, trying to gauge his reaction, but he didn’t seem rattled. If anything, he seemed amused, like he was playing along with some game that only he and Bella Donna knew the rules to. The easy smile was still there, but there was something more careful in his eyes now, something guarded.

For a moment, you wondered if you should say something, do something to break the tension, but before you could, Bella Donna’s gaze shifted back to you, her smile never faltering. “Enjoy yourself,” she said, her tone light but laced with something darker. “Remy has a way of making things... memorable.

You forced another smile, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. “I’m sure it will be,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease gnawing at your stomach.

You stepped onto the yacht, the gentle sway beneath your feet reminding you just how massive the vessel was. It looked even more impressive up close—sleek lines, gleaming white against the deep blue of the water, with polished chrome fittings that caught the afternoon sun. The air was warm, the breeze carrying the salty scent of the sea, and everything about the moment felt surreal, like you’d stepped into a world you’d only ever glimpsed from afar.

Ahead of you, Bella Donna led the way, her long blonde hair cascading down her back, catching the sunlight with every step. She moved with the grace of someone who had done this a thousand times, a light smile on her lips as she nodded at the crew, effortlessly commanding attention. The crew, dressed in crisp white uniforms, smiled back warmly, clearly familiar with her presence.

Remy walked close to you, his hand brushing lightly against your back in a gesture that was both protective and possessive, though casual enough that it didn’t draw attention. He nodded at the crew as you passed, his easy charm radiating from him as always. When the captain stepped forward, Remy extended his hand, shaking it with the kind of confidence that made it clear he wasn’t just a guest—he was someone used to being in charge, someone who commanded respect without asking for it.

“Captain,” Remy greeted with a nod. “Good t’ see you again.”

“Always a pleasure, Mr. LeBeau,” the captain replied, his voice laced with familiarity.

As they exchanged pleasantries, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander around the yacht’s deck. It was stunning—elegance woven into every detail. The teak wood beneath your feet was polished to a gleaming perfection, and the deck furniture was a mix of modern design and ultimate comfort, with plush, cream cushions spread across expansive lounging areas. The railing was a sleek combination of polished steel and glass, offering an uninterrupted view of the sparkling ocean stretching endlessly toward the horizon.

The yacht itself seemed to sprawl out in every direction, with multiple levels visible from where you stood. To your left, you could see an outdoor dining area shaded by a retractable awning, with a table large enough to host a small dinner party. Beyond that, a set of stairs led down to a lower deck, where you caught a glimpse of a hot tub bubbling away, surrounded by more sun loungers. The whole place exuded luxury and comfort, a floating sanctuary of indulgence.

As you and Richard followed behind, the crew quickly moved to take your bags, their professionalism seamless. You handed over your things with a polite smile, grateful for the reprieve from carrying anything, though the weight of the encounter with Bella Donna still lingered in the back of your mind. Richard, walking beside you, gave you a small, knowing look, as if to say, We’re in for quite the trip, huh?

You returned the look with a slight shrug, trying to shake off the tension that had wrapped itself around you since Bella Donna’s arrival. But as you glanced over to where she and Remy now stood, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of something—jealousy, maybe—as they fell into easy banter once again.

Bella Donna laughed, a soft, melodic sound, as she rested her hand lightly on Remy’s arm. “I see you’ve upgraded since our last trip,” she teased, glancing around the yacht with an approving smile. “Always knew you’d keep outdoing yourself.”

Remy chuckled, his grin easy, though you noticed the subtle shift in his tone—more relaxed, more familiar. “Gotta keep things fresh, Bella,” he replied, his voice warm. “Y’ know I like t’ make my trips memorable.”

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “Oh, you definitely have a talent for that.”

The exchange stung in a way you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t that they were overly flirtatious, but there was a history there—an easy intimacy that reminded you of how long they’d known each other, how much they’d shared. It was hard not to feel like an outsider in the face of it.

You tried to focus on the beauty of the yacht, the elegance of your surroundings, but the weight of their connection lingered in the air, making it harder to breathe. You glanced out at the water, trying to center yourself, to remind yourself that this was your trip with Remy, that whatever history lingered between them, it was just that—history.

After a few more moments of playful banter, Remy seemed to sense your silence. He glanced over at you, his eyes softening as he gently excused himself from Bella Donna’s side. She gave him a knowing smile, her gaze lingering on him for just a moment before she turned back to the crew, continuing her conversation with them as if nothing had happened.

Remy walked toward you, his presence instantly calming the unease that had settled in your chest. He stood beside you, his arm brushing lightly against yours as he leaned in, his voice low and familiar. “Y’ alright, chère?”

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach hadn’t quite loosened. “Yeah, it’s just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain the strange mix of emotions swirling inside you.

Remy’s eyes softened, understanding flickering behind them. He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm, his touch reassuring. “Don’t let her get t’ you,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “She’s good at playin’ these games, but that’s all they are—games.”

You nodded slowly, grateful for his reassurance but still feeling the weight of Bella Donna’s presence hanging over you. “I know. It’s just… weird.”

Remy chuckled softly, his thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “It’s always weird when she’s involved. But y’ ain’t got nothin’ t’ worry about.”

His words sent a small ripple of warmth through you, easing the tension just a little. You smiled up at him, finally starting to feel a bit more grounded. “Thanks.”

Remy’s grin widened, that familiar glimmer of mischief returning to his eyes. “Now, how ‘bout I show y’ around? This place is a lot bigger than it looks.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the already massive deck. “Bigger? How much more is there?”

He winked, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Y’d be surprised. C’mon.”

With that, he took your hand, gently tugging you toward the stairs that led to the upper deck. As you followed him, your earlier unease slowly began to melt away, replaced by a quiet excitement as you let yourself get lost in the luxury of the yacht—and in Remy’s presence. Remy led you through the yacht, weaving through elegantly decorated hallways that whispered luxury with every step. The walls were lined with soft wood paneling, sleek and modern, while the floors were carpeted in a plush, cream-colored material that was so soft it felt like walking on a cloud. You could smell the faintest hint of fresh flowers in the air, probably from the arrangements scattered throughout the yacht. Every detail, every corner of this place screamed wealth—comfort and elegance seamlessly intertwined.

He paused in front of a set of double doors, his hand resting on the sleek handle as he turned to you with a playful grin, “And this is the bedroom.”

With a flourish, Remy opened the doors and stepped inside, revealing the master bedroom. Your eyes widened as you took it all in. The room was massive, easily as large as most apartments, with a king-sized bed dominating the center of the space. The bed itself was a masterpiece—covered in silky, pristine white linens, with an abundance of impossibly soft-looking pillows stacked at the head. The duvet was thick and luxurious, the kind you could sink into and never want to leave.

To the right, floor-to-ceiling windows lined the wall, offering a breathtaking view of the endless ocean, the water glittering under the sunlight. The light flooded the room, illuminating every inch of the space, from the sleek, modern furniture to the soft, neutral tones that created an atmosphere of calm and indulgence.

Remy walked over to the ensuite bathroom, flicking on the light to reveal a space that was just as grand. A freestanding bathtub sat in the center, carved from marble, with sleek chrome fixtures and a rainfall shower that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel’s spa. The vanity was lined with small, elegant bottles of what you could only assume were high-end toiletries, and the entire space gleamed, every surface polished to perfection.

You leaned casually against the doorframe, your arms crossed as you took it all in. It was overwhelming in the best possible way—like stepping into a world that wasn’t quite real, a world where everything was designed to make you feel like you were living in the lap of luxury.

Remy turned back to you, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned against the vanity. “Well?” he asked, his voice low and playful. “What d’ y’ think?”

You nodded a few times, pretending to be nonchalant, though the excitement was bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not bad,” you said, your tone casual as you glanced around the room.

But then, with a grin, you couldn’t help yourself. In a split second, you pushed off from the doorframe and took off running toward the bed, your laughter filling the room as you threw yourself onto the massive mattress, landing in a heap on top of the duvet. The bed seemed to swallow you whole, the pillows soft and enveloping as you lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the luxurious comfort of it all surround you.

Remy let out a loud, genuine laugh, the sound rich and warm as he walked over to the bed. He stood beside it for a moment, still grinning down at you, before he gave in and flopped down beside you, his head landing just inches from yours. The bed barely even moved under his weight—it was that large, that sturdy.

“We’ve all done it,” he said with a chuckle, his voice low and amused as he turned his head to look at you.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you shifted your head slightly to meet his gaze. “Even you?”

Remy grinned, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Every time.”

You laughed, your body sinking further into the bed, the tension from earlier finally beginning to melt away. Laying there, surrounded by the soft pillows and the impossibly luxurious duvet, with Remy beside you, the weight of the world outside seemed to disappear. The yacht, Bella Donna, the whispers and questions that had gnawed at you earlier—it all faded into the background, leaving just this moment.

The sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax into the comfort of it all. You turned your head slightly, glancing at Remy, whose eyes were still shining with amusement as he lay beside you, his arm resting lazily on the duvet.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice filled with playful teasing, “this is a dangerous game. You give me a bed like this, and I might never leave.”

Remy chuckled, shifting slightly so he was leaning on his elbow, looking down at you with that familiar, roguish smile. “Chère, if y’ never wanna leave, y’ don’t have to. I’ll keep y’ here as long as y’ like.”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his words settle over you like a blanket. There was something about the way he said it—light and teasing, yes, but with an underlying sincerity that made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just about the yacht, or the luxury, or even the bed. It was about the fact that, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged somewhere. With him.

As you lay there, sinking into the softness of the bed, you glanced over at Remy, who was now leaning on his elbow, watching you with that familiar, playful glint in his eyes. You smiled, feeling more at ease than you had all day, but then your mind wandered back to something.

“Wait…” you said, sitting up slightly as you gestured toward the wardrobe you’d passed earlier. “Considering all your stuff is in the wardrobe, I’m guessing this is your room?”

Remy tilted his head, that lazy grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well,” he said, shrugging one shoulder with a casual ease, “correction: it’s our room. If that’s what y’ want.” His voice was low, measured, and though he kept his tone light, there was something deeper behind it, something more vulnerable hiding beneath the surface. “But if y’ prefer, I can move my stuff next door, and this place can be all yours.”

He was offering you a choice, a way out, as if he was giving you the space to decide how close you wanted him to be—both physically and emotionally. And for a moment, you considered it. You thought about the idea of having this sprawling, luxurious room all to yourself, the king-sized bed, the view, the privacy. It would be easy to take him up on that offer, to keep things simple, to keep that line drawn between you.

But as you looked at him—leaning casually beside you, his eyes watching you with that familiar warmth and mischief—you realized that you didn’t want the space. You didn’t want him in the room next door. You wanted him here, with you.

You let out a small breath, your decision settling over you like a quiet certainty. “You can stay,” you said, your voice soft but firm, “on one condition.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he shifted closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh? What’s that, chère?”

You smirked, leaning back into the pillows. “You don’t snore.”

He let out a deep, amused laugh, the sound filling the room as he shook his head. “No promises,” he replied, his voice full of teasing warmth.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “I’m serious. If you snore, I’m kicking you out.”

Remy’s grin softened, his expression turning more affectionate as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that always seemed to make your heart skip. “Guess I’ll just have t’ be on my best behavior then, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though beneath the playful banter, there was a weight to the moment—a quiet understanding that this was more than just about sharing a room. This was about sharing space, about letting him in, about acknowledging that whatever was between you wasn’t just casual anymore. It was real, and it was growing, and you were both standing at the edge of something deeper.

For a moment, the two of you just lay there, the sound of the waves outside and the gentle sway of the yacht creating a peaceful, almost surreal backdrop. Remy still had that teasing smile on his lips, but his eyes had softened, something unspoken simmering just beneath the surface.

“You know,” he said quietly, his voice softer now, “I wasn’t sure y’ would want this. To share the space.”

You turned your head to look at him, your heart beating a little faster at the honesty in his tone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged, though there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Y’r used to havin’ y’r own space. Didn’t wanna assume.”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest as you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his. “I can always make room for you.”

Remy’s smile deepened, his eyes gleaming with that familiar warmth that always seemed to melt away any of your lingering doubts. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something that made your pulse quicken.

And just like that, the tension that had been simmering between you all day seemed to ease, replaced by a quiet understanding, a shared sense of something deeper, something more real. You weren’t just companions anymore. You weren’t just playing a game. You lay there in the soft comfort of the bed, the room bathed in golden light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The earlier tension had mostly melted away, but there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind, something you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried to focus on the here and now with Remy.

You glanced over at him, watching as he lay beside you, his arm casually draped over his chest, his eyes half-closed in that easy, relaxed way he always had. But you couldn’t let it go. Not yet.

“Why was Bella Donna here?” you asked, the question slipping out before you had fully decided to voice it. “And with Richard?”

Remy let out a quiet sigh, then, with a soft groan, flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. His arm shifted to rest over his head, his fingers running lightly through his hair. For a moment, he didn’t speak, as if he was carefully picking out the right words.

“Believe it or not,” he started, his voice a little quieter than usual, “we’re still friends. Even after… everything.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning your head to look at him more fully. “Really? After all that history?”

He chuckled softly, though the sound wasn’t quite as lighthearted as usual. “Yeah. Crazy, huh? But it’s true. Once a year, we get together, catch up. Just like any other friend does. We’re not what we used t’ be, but we’ve both moved on. Shes with Richard.”

You let out a slow breath, trying to digest what he was saying. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe him—it was just that seeing them together, seeing how easy it was for them to fall back into old rhythms, had stirred up something you hadn’t expected. And then there was her, Bella Donna, with her sharp gaze and perfectly poised demeanor.

“She doesn’t like me,” you murmured, almost to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear.

Remy let out a loud laugh, breaking the silence that had settled between you. “That’s not it,” he said, shaking his head, his voice filled with amusement. “She’s just makin’ sure y’r right.”

You frowned, turning on your side so you could face him more fully, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Right? What does that mean?”

He finally glanced over at you, his expression softening as he saw the genuine confusion in your eyes. He shifted slightly, his arm moving from his head to rest beside him as he turned to face you. “She’s testin’ y’, chère. Bella’s got a way about her. She’s always been like that. She ain’t cold, she ain’t mean. She’s just… cautious. Protective, even.”

You blinked, still not entirely convinced. “But it felt like she was sizing me up.”

Remy chuckled again, shaking his head as he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “She is. But not ‘cause she doesn’t like y’. She’s just makin’ sure y’r good for me.”

“Good for you?” you repeated, still not sure you understood. “I didn’t realize I was being tested.”

His lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your skin. “That’s Bella Donna for y’. She’s always had a way of lookin’ out for me. Doesn’t mean she’s against y’. Trust me, if she didn’t like y’, y’d know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just trying to play it down. “How would I know?”

Remy’s grin widened, and he shifted closer, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that always made your heart skip a beat. “Bella’s got a way of lettin’ people know when they’re on her bad side. It ain’t subtle. If she didn’t like y’, y’d feel it in y’r bones.”

You let out a small breath, the weight on your chest easing slightly as you processed his words. “So… she’s not out to get me?”

He shook his head, his fingers still tracing those soft, lazy circles on your arm. “Not at all. She’s just seein’ what y’r made of. If y’r gonna stick around.”

You fell quiet for a moment, your mind turning over what he’d said. There was still a part of you that felt uneasy about Bella Donna—about the history they shared, about the way she seemed to move through Remy’s world so effortlessly. But if what he was saying was true, then maybe it wasn’t as hostile as you’d feared. Maybe it was just… complicated.

“Okay,” you said softly, finally letting out a long breath. “I guess that makes sense.”

Remy smiled, his eyes gleaming with that familiar warmth as he leaned in slightly, his face just inches from yours. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan on goin’ anywhere, and I don’t want y’ thinkin’ that she’s a threat. She’s part o’ my past, yeah.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten in a way that was both comforting and overwhelming. You smiled softly, your fingers brushing lightly against his as you leaned into his touch. “I’m glad to hear that.”

He grinned, his face so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. “Good. Now, ‘bout that condition y’ gave me earlier…”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you easing completely as the playful banter returned. “Oh, the snoring?”

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Like I said, no promises.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips was genuine as you settled back into the pillows. There was still a lot to figure out, still so many questions lingering in the air about Bella Donna and the strange dynamic between them. But for now, with Remy lying beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, you let yourself relax into the moment.

After a few more playful exchanges and quiet moments between you and Remy in the luxurious master bedroom, he stood up, offering his hand to you. “C’mon, chère,” he said, his grin widening as he tugged you up from the bed. “Let’s head back out, see what kind o’ trouble we can get into.”

You followed him through the opulent halls of the yacht, your hand still loosely in his as he led you back toward the main deck. The gentle sway of the yacht beneath you, the sound of the waves lapping against the hull, and the warm ocean breeze through the open windows made the whole experience feel like something out of a dream.

As you stepped out onto the deck, you immediately spotted Bella Donna and Richard. They were seated comfortably on the plush outdoor couches near the railing, the ocean stretching out endlessly behind them. Bella was holding a martini glass, the condensation from the chilled drink shining in the sunlight as she raised it to her lips. Richard was lazily leaning back beside her, his posture relaxed as he sipped on what looked like a whiskey on the rocks.

Bella’s eyes flicked up as you and Remy approached, her gaze sharp and assessing, as always. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips as she watched the two of you together, but she didn’t say anything—at least not yet.

Remy gave her a brief nod before turning to Richard, grinning. “How ‘bout we check on those jet skis? See if they’re ready t’ go.”

Richard straightened slightly, his brow lifting in mild interest. “Sure. Sounds like a good time.” He stood, stretching languidly before patting Bella Donna lightly on the shoulder. “Won’t be long,” he said casually, his attention already shifting toward Remy and the promise of adrenaline-filled fun.

Your stomach dropped slightly. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with Bella Donna just yet, especially after the tension of earlier. You glanced at Remy, silently pleading with him to stay, to not leave you here to fend off whatever subtle tests Bella might have in store.

But Remy, ever the charmer, either didn’t notice or was purposefully ignoring your silent plea. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Back soon, chère. Play nice.” There was a teasing edge to his tone, and before you could protest, he straightened with that familiar, confident grin, already walking away with Richard toward the far end of the deck.

You wanted to kill him. Or at least give him a hard nudge off the side of the yacht when no one was looking.

As the men walked off, their low voices fading into the background, you turned back toward Bella, who was now watching you with a curious, almost amused expression. She took a slow sip of her martini, her gaze never leaving yours.

You hesitated for a moment before moving to sit on the plush couch near the railing, the soft cushions sinking beneath you. The ocean sparkled in the distance, but you couldn’t focus on the beauty of the view, not with Bella’s eyes on you.

For a few moments, there was silence—only the sound of the waves and the gentle clink of ice in Bella’s glass as she set it down on the table between you. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice smooth but with an edge of curiosity.

As Remy and Richard walked off toward the far end of the deck, laughter trailing behind them, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. The moment they disappeared from view, the tension that had been simmering between you and Bella Donna seemed to thicken, the yacht’s expansive, elegant deck suddenly feeling smaller.

Bella sat across from you, her long legs crossed, a martini glass balanced delicately in her hand. Her posture was casual, but there was something sharp in her gaze, something that made your pulse race a little faster. She took a slow sip of her drink, all the while watching you with the kind of scrutiny that felt both subtle and piercing. The ocean stretched out behind her, but all you could focus on was the woman in front of you—the woman who had shared so much history with Remy.

After a few moments of silence, Bella Donna broke it with a smooth, casual tone that felt almost disarming. “So,” she began, her eyes never leaving yours, “you and Remy. What’s the deal?”

You hesitated, your mind racing as you tried to find the right words. It wasn’t like you and Remy had ever really defined what was going on between you. Everything had just… happened. But sitting here, in front of Bella, the weight of the question felt heavier than it had before.

“We’re… spending time together,” you answered carefully, keeping your tone neutral. “It’s not anything official.”

Bella Donna tilted her head slightly, as if considering your words. Then she let out a soft hum, setting her martini glass down on the table between you with a quiet clink. “You know, there’ve been *a lot* of women in your position,” she said, her tone calm but laced with something deeper. “Women who thought they could change him. Women who thought they could keep up with him. Hell, I was one of them.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. Bella Donna’s expression remained cool, collected, as if she were recounting something that was inevitable. “But in the end,” she continued, her voice soft but firm, “it all ends the same way.”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You could feel the weight of her words pressing down on you, the unspoken warning hanging in the air. She wasn’t being cruel, but there was a quiet finality to her tone, like she’d seen this story play out too many times not to know how it ends.

She leaned back in her seat, her eyes never leaving yours as she spoke. “Remy’s… intense,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “He’s unpredictable, charming, and completely impossible to pin down. Women fall for him all the time. They think they can handle his world, his lifestyle. But they never can. They think they can change him, but they can’t.”

You swallowed hard, her words striking a little too close to something you hadn’t fully processed. You didn’t want to think of yourself as just another woman in the long line of people who had tried—and failed—to keep up with Remy. But Bella spoke with the voice of experience, and it was hard not to feel the sting of her truth.

She paused, letting her words settle between you as she took another slow sip of her martini. Then, her gaze sharpened, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But here’s the thing,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were confiding in you. “Remy doesn’t bring women here. Not like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your pulse quicken. “What do you mean?”

Bella Donna’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “What I mean is,” she said, her voice steady, “he’s never brought anyone to meet me. Not flings, not casual companions. Usually, it’s just women he met the night before, women who don’t matter.”

You felt a rush of heat rise to your cheeks, your mind spinning as you tried to process what she was saying. “We’re not… seeing each other like that,” you said quickly, the words falling out before you could really think about them. “It’s not serious.”

Bella raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting slightly as she took in your response. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied you. “Not serious?” she repeated, almost amused. Then, after a beat, she let out a quiet laugh, like she had just realized something. “Okay, so you hold his hand, he buys you pretty things, and you follow him around on boats like this? We’ve all been there.”

Her words stung, and you felt your stomach twist. She wasn’t being cruel, but the casual way she dismissed your relationship with Remy—whatever it was—made it feel small, insignificant. Like you were just another woman swept up in his charm, another temporary connection that wouldn’t last.

“But,” Bella continued, her voice softening slightly, “the point stands even more now.”

You frowned, still trying to make sense of everything she was saying, but before you could respond, she leaned forward, her gaze locking onto yours with a sharper intensity. “You’re saying it’s not serious, but he’s brought you here. That’s serious enough.”

Her words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force you hadn’t expected. You hadn’t thought of it that way—hadn’t really considered what it meant for Remy to bring you here, to this yacht, to meet *her*. But Bella was right. This wasn’t casual. This wasn’t just another one of his flings. He had introduced you to the woman who knew him better than almost anyone else, the woman who had seen him at his best and his worst. And that meant something.

Bella took a long sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving yours. “So, let me ask you,” she said quietly, her voice softer now, almost empathetic. “Do you think you can handle him? Do you think you can keep up?”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to answer. You weren’t sure if you could. Remy was a force of nature, unpredictable and intense, and being with him was like trying to keep up with a storm. But there was something about him that pulled you in, something that made you want to try, even if you weren’t sure you could handle everything that came with him.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

Bella Donna leaned back again, her gaze softening just a little as she watched you struggle with your response. “Just think about it,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Because whatever this ‘not seeing each other’ thing is, it’s serious enough for him to bring you here. And if you can’t keep up, you’re going to get hurt.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling, and you found yourself staring out at the ocean, your mind racing with everything se had said. The sound of the waves, the gentle sway of the yacht, it all faded into the background as you tried to process what this all meant—what you meant to Remy, and what this trip was really about.

You didn’t know how long you sat there in silence, but eventually, the sound of footsteps approached. You turned to see Remy and Richard making their way back, both of them grinning, their energy light and easy, a stark contrast to the tension that had settled over you and Bella.

“Jet skis are ready,” Remy announced, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he approached. “Y’ comin’, chère?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you stood up from the couch, though your mind was still spinning with everything Bella had said. As you walked toward Remy, you glanced back at her one last time. She gave you a small, knowing smile, her eyes still holding that sharp edge, as though she knew you were still turning her words over in your mind.

And as Remy’s arm slipped around your waist, guiding you toward the jet skis, you couldn’t help but wonder if Bella was right. If this was something more. And if you were ready for it. <><><><><> The sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon, leaving the sky a deep indigo, flecked with stars that shimmered above the yacht. The warm glow of deck lights bathed the scene in a soft, golden hue, casting gentle shadows across the elegantly set dinner table. You were wrapped in a light sweater now, the cool evening breeze brushing against your skin as you sat with Remy, Bella Donna, and Richard, waiting for dinner to arrive.

The day had been full—hours spent jet skiing, lounging in the sun, and navigating the strange, unspoken dynamics of the group. But now, as night settled in, there was a certain calmness in the air. The soft clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation, the faint sound of the ocean lapping against the hull—it all created a peaceful ambiance, a stark contrast to the tension that had lingered earlier.

Remy and Bella were deep in conversation, their voices low as they spoke about something from their shared past—a trip they had taken years ago, a story about a storm that had nearly derailed their plans. Their laughter was easy, familiar, the kind that comes from years of shared history.

But you? You were laughing with Richard, your attention caught by his animated retelling of your first botched attempt at jet skiing earlier. You couldn’t help but laugh as he exaggerated every detail—the way you’d both fallen off within minutes, the ridiculousness of it all, the way the jet ski had spun in circles while you tried to figure out which way to steer.

“And then,” Richard was saying, choking on his own laughter, “I turn around, and you’re just—gone! Face-first into the water, like a cartoon character!”

You burst into laughter again, the sound bubbling up from your chest as you leaned back in your chair, unable to stop grinning. “I swear, I thought I had it,” you managed between laughs. “Turns out I’m just terrible at it.”

Richard shook his head, still grinning. “Hey, we all have our talents. Maybe jet skiing just isn’t one of them.”

As you laughed, you didn’t notice at first that Remy had fallen silent. But Bella did. She caught the way his conversation with her had trailed off, his attention quietly shifting away from their shared memories and toward you.

She watched as Remy’s gaze softened, his eyes lingering on you as you laughed with Richard. There was something in the way he was looking at you—something almost unguarded, uncharacteristically vulnerable. His usual playful smirk had faded, replaced by a quiet, almost tender smile, the kind you hadn’t seen him wear before. He wasn’t just watching you—he was *memorizing* you. The way your eyes lit up when you laughed, the way your smile spread across your face, the way you seemed so at ease in this moment.

Bella’s breath caught slightly, an unexpected pang of realization settling in her chest. She had been right. She had seen it earlier, the way Remy had brought you here, the way he had introduced you to her, something he had never done with anyone else. She had sensed that there was something different about you, something that set you apart from the endless string of women who had come and gone in Remy’s life. But now, watching him as he gazed at you, Bella saw what she hadn’t fully understood before.

He was falling in love with you.

It wasn’t just an arrangement, not anymore. Maybe it had started that way—maybe you were still under the assumption that this was just some temporary companionship, a relationship defined by boundaries and unspoken rules. But Remy had already changed the rules. He had crossed a line, whether he realized it yet or not. And Bella could see it, clear as day, in the softness of his gaze, in the quiet way he watched you, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

She looked away for a moment, her fingers curling around the stem of her glass as she processed the realization. It shouldn’t have surprised her, not really. Remy had always been unpredictable, always someone who defied expectations. But this? This was something else entirely.

When she glanced back at him, Remy still hadn’t turned his attention away from you. His smile was small, almost private, like he was lost in his own thoughts, watching you with a quiet fondness that Bella hadn’t seen in him for a long time. Maybe not ever.

She took a slow sip of her drink, her thoughts swirling. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Remy was capable of love—he had, after all, loved her once, in his own way. But this was different. This wasn’t the reckless, all-consuming passion that had defined their relationship. This was something softer, something deeper. Something that suggested he wasn’t just infatuated with you—he was falling for you. Slowly, steadily, without even realizing it.

And you? Bella watched you for a moment longer, noticing how you seemed unaware of what was unfolding. You laughed at something Richard said, your head tipped back slightly, your eyes bright with amusement. You were still under the assumption that this was just some casual arrangement, something fun and easy, something that would end when the time came. But Bella knew better now. She knew that for Remy, this wasn’t just another fling, another temporary connection. This was something real, something that was growing into something neither of you had anticipated.

And the question that lingered in her mind, as she watched you and Remy from across the table, was whether you were ready for that. Whether you knew what you were getting into. Because being with Remy wasn’t easy—loving him was even harder.

Bella’s gaze shifted back to Remy, who was finally turning his attention back to the table, though his smile lingered, a ghost of what it had been when he was watching you. She met his eyes briefly, and for a split second, she thought about saying something—about teasing him, pointing out what she had just realized. But she didn’t. Instead, she gave him a small, knowing smile, one that said I see what’s happening here, and turned back to her drink.

As the air around the table settled again, and the sounds of casual conversation resumed, Bella felt a strange mix of emotions stirring inside her. She had always known Remy was capable of great love—she had been on the receiving end of it once, after all. But seeing it unfold in front of her, with someone else, felt different. She didn’t feel jealousy, not exactly. But there was something bittersweet about it. Something that made her realize that while she and Remy would always share a history, they were no longer part of each other’s futures.

She glanced at you again, watching the way you smiled, the way your laugh seemed to light up the space around you. And in that moment, Bella found herself hoping that, when the time came, you would understand what you meant to him. Because it was clear now—Remy wasn’t just falling for you. He was already in deeper than either of you knew.

And the only question left was whether you would fall, too. Remy’s gaze kept drifting toward you, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched you interact with Richard. That familiar, quiet warmth had settled in his chest—the same feeling that caught him off guard more often than he’d care to admit. You were still cracking jokes, still laughing, completely unaware of the way he was watching you, as though he were memorizing every detail.

Bella Donna let out a small sigh, tilting her head slightly as she turned her attention fully to him. “So,” she began, her voice low and casual as she swirled the drink in her glass, “why’d you decide to spend $48 million on a penthouse for her?”

Her question cut through the air like a knife, and for a moment, Remy froze. He didn’t respond right away, his fingers drumming quietly against the table as he kept his gaze fixed on you, still laughing with Richard. But Bella wasn’t fooled by his silence. She already knew the answer. She could see it written in the way his eyes softened every time they landed on you.

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, her tone both challenging and amused. “Say it. Say what I already know, LeBeau.”

Remy finally tore his gaze from you and looked at her, his expression shifting into something guarded, his lips twitching into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He leaned forward, matching her posture, his voice low and teasing. “No idea what y’r talkin’ about,” he whispered back, though there was something in his tone that betrayed him.

Bella raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh escaping her as she leaned back in her chair and took another sip of her drink. “No one does something like that for no reason,” she said, her voice calm but pointed. She wasn’t letting this go, and they both knew it.

Remy let out a slow breath, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass as he shifted in his seat. “It’s nothin’,” he muttered, his tone casual but unconvincing. “It was already mine. I wasn’t usin’ it—”

Bella scoffed, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. “You bought it two days earlier,” she shot back, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You didn’t have time to use it, you idiot.”

Remy’s jaw clenched slightly, but his expression remained calm, though there was something in his eyes—something that flickered briefly, like he knew he was caught but was still trying to play it cool.

Bella leaned forward again, her voice softer this time, almost gentle. “Remy, come on. You don’t spend that kind of money on someone unless they mean something to you.”

He stayed quiet, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment before flicking back to you, watching as you smiled at something Richard said. That familiar warmth crept back into his chest, making it impossible to hide the truth from himself, let alone Bella. He knew the answer, even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

Bella didn’t push him further, but she let her words hang in the air between them, a subtle reminder of what he was trying so hard to avoid. She took another sip of her drink, her eyes still on him, waiting for him to acknowledge what she already knew.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally spoke, his voice low and resigned. “Maybe I just wanted t’ make sure she had a place, y’ know? Somethin’ that’s hers.”

Bella tilted her head, her smile softening as she watched him. “Sure. But that’s not the whole story, is it?”

Remy didn’t respond right away, his eyes still on you, his thoughts swirling with everything he’d been avoiding. He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he finally turned back to Bella, his voice barely above a whisper. “You always did know how t’ pull it outta me.”

Bella smirked, taking a slow sip of her drink before setting it down with a soft clink. “That’s what I’m here for.”

For a moment, they both sat in silence, the unspoken truth hanging between them. Remy wasn’t just buying you pretty things. He wasn’t just pulling you along on some casual, temporary arrangement. He was in deeper than that—deeper than he had been willing to admit, even to himself.

And as you laughed again, completely unaware of the conversation happening just a few feet away, Bella knew that things were about to get a lot more complicated. After a long evening of laughter and conversation, you and Remy finally said your goodnights to Richard and Bella. You stifled a loud yawn, blinking sleepily as the cool night air settled around you. The dinner had been delicious, the company more relaxed than you'd expected, and the day had left you pleasantly exhausted.

As you and Remy walked down the narrow staircase towards the bedroom, the sound of the ocean fading behind you, he glanced over at you with a smirk. “See, I told y’ Bella ain’t as scary as you thought.”

You gave him a sideways look, your lips curling into a small, tired smile. “Okay, okay, you’re right,” you admitted, feeling the weight of your own words. “Once again, you’re right. At this rate, we’re going to have to start keeping a jar.”

Remy chuckled, his deep, warm laugh filling the hallway as you both continued down toward the bedroom. “What, like a ‘Remy’s Always Right’ jar? I’d be rich.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully with your elbow, but couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable. It’s bound to happen less often.”

“Sure, chère,” Remy drawled, his voice teasing. “Whatever you say.”

The banter between you flowed easily, that familiar push and pull of playful teasing that had become part of your dynamic. It was grounding, comforting, especially after the more serious conversations and realizations of the evening.

When you finally reached the bedroom, you kicked off your shoes without a second thought, your body heavy with exhaustion. The bed was calling to you, the luxurious comfort of the oversized mattress and soft pillows too tempting to resist. You fell into it with a contented sigh, not even bothering to get changed. You wiggled your way under the covers, feeling the cool sheets against your skin as you burrowed deeper into the duvet.

“God damn it,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow. “I love this bed so much.”

You heard Remy laugh softly from across the room, the sound of fabric rustling catching your attention. You opened your eyes just in time to see him pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it casually onto the nearby chair.

And for a moment, you couldn’t help but stare.

Remy, standing there shirtless, looked like something out of a dream. His body was strong, lean, and sculpted—broad shoulders tapering down to a defined chest and abdomen, each muscle perfectly cut. His skin was smooth, with just the right amount of tan from days spent in the sun, and his arms looked powerful, the kind of arms that could hold you close and make you feel safe.

He caught you looking and raised an eyebrow, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Like what y’ see?”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed slightly as you tried to play it cool. “Just admiring the view,” you teased, quickly pulling the duvet up to your chin to hide your smirk. “No big deal.”

Remy’s grin widened as he climbed into bed beside you, the mattress barely shifting under his weight. He rolled over to face you, propping his head up with one arm as he looked at you, his expression softening into something more tender, more intimate.

“Y’ know,” he said, his voice low and lazy, “when we get back, y’ should go get yourself a bed like this if the one at the penthouse ain’t good enough.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the mention of the penthouse again. It still felt strange, the idea that Remy had gone out of his way to buy you a penthouse. Something so extravagant, so over the top, that you hadn’t fully wrapped your head around it yet.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you murmured, your voice quiet as you shifted slightly to face him, your eyes meeting his. “The penthouse, I mean.”

Remy’s gaze held yours, his expression soft but unreadable. “I know,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I wanted to.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your chest tighten, something that made the air between you feel heavier, more charged. He wasn’t just talking about the bed or the penthouse anymore—there was something else beneath the surface, something deeper that neither of you had fully acknowledged yet.

You stared at him for a moment longer, searching his face for the meaning behind his words. But before you could say anything more, Remy leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Y’ wanna know somethin’ else?”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart beating a little faster as you nodded. “What?”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with that familiar playfulness. “I love this bed too.”

His words broke the tension, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and easy as you shook your head. “Of course you do.” The bedroom was dark now, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the sheer curtains. The sound of the ocean lapping gently against the yacht's hull filled the quiet space, a soothing backdrop to the intimacy of the moment. You and Remy lay side by side, both facing each other, the thick duvet pulled up around your bodies.

The earlier playful banter had faded into something quieter, something more intimate. His eyes, reflecting the soft light of the moon, were locked onto yours, as though he were searching for something there. You felt the weight of his gaze, the tension that had been simmering between you both for weeks now suddenly much more present in the stillness of the room.

Remy’s voice broke the silence, low and soft. “Where d’ y’ see yourself in ten years?”

The question caught you off guard, but the way he asked it was so gentle, so genuine, that you didn’t hesitate before answering. “I’ve always wanted to backpack across Europe,” you admitted quietly. “See the world, get lost in new places.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking up in a small smile. “Backpackin’? That’s not what I would’ve guessed. Why haven’t y’ done it yet?”

You shrugged, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of the duvet as you thought about your answer. “Finances, work, life. You know how it goes. There’s always something that gets in the way.”

Remy’s eyes softened as he listened, his expression thoughtful. “Y’ ever think about just… goin’? Leavin’ all that behind and doin’ what y’ really want?”

You smiled, a wistful look crossing your face. “Yeah. Sometimes. But it's easier said than done, right? There’s always something to stay for.”

He nodded, the quiet understanding between you deepening. But there was something else in the air now—something heavier, more charged. The space between you felt smaller, more intimate, like the weight of everything that had been left unsaid was pressing down on both of you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just lay there, facing each other, your bodies close but not quite touching. The tension—the kind that had been building since the day you met—was thick in the air, almost suffocating. Every glance, every breath felt like it was leading to something inevitable.

Remy’s eyes darkened slightly as they flicked down to your lips, his breath hitching just a little. You could feel it too—the pull, the magnetic force drawing you closer to him. Your heart raced, thudding in your chest as the silence stretched on, the weight of the moment pressing down harder with every second.

Remy’s gaze was locked on yours, his dark eyes searching your face, as though he was looking for permission, for some signal that you were feeling the same pull that he was. The flicker of something dangerous, something vulnerable passed through his expression, and then—without warning—he moved.

His lips crashed into yours, hot, insistent, filled with all the hunger and desire that had been simmering just beneath the surface for weeks. The kiss was more than just a meeting of lips—it was raw, desperate, as if all the tension between you had finally ignited into something neither of you could control. Every inch of your body responded to him instantly, heat flooding through you as his hands slid up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer, like he couldn’t bear the space between you.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him even deeper into the kiss, your body arching up to meet his. The world outside the yacht vanished in an instant—there was no sound, no ocean, no moonlight—just the two of you, tangled together in the dark, the intensity of the moment swallowing everything else.

Remy’s hands were everywhere, one sliding down to grip your waist possessively, pulling your body flush against his, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel him, every hard line of his body pressed against yours, solid and strong, and it sent a shiver down your spine. His kiss grew more desperate by the second, as though he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every feeling, into that one heated connection.

He tasted like whiskey, like something dark and dangerous, something that was uniquely his. But beneath it was something else—something that made your head spin, something that made your chest tighten with want. It was intoxicating, addictive, overwhelming, and you couldn’t get enough. You pressed yourself closer to him, your hands sliding down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips.

Remy groaned softly into your mouth, the sound sending a wave of heat through your entire body. His grip on you tightened, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you even closer as he shifted his weight, rolling on top of you. His body covered yours, warm and solid, holding you in place as though you were the most precious thing in the world. His kiss grew fiercer, more urgent, and you gave in completely, your body burning under the intensity of his touch.

Your fingers slid down the smooth skin of his back, feeling the muscles shift under your palms as he pressed against you. His weight was comforting, grounding, but at the same time, it made you feel like you were floating—caught in the rush of what was happening between you. Every nerve in your body was alight, electrified by the way his lips moved against yours, by the way his hands held you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

The kiss deepened further, your breaths mingling as you both lost yourselves in the moment. Your body arched into his, desperate for more, for everything, as the tension that had been building between you both finally snapped. You could feel the raw intensity of his desire in every touch, every movement, and it matched your own perfectly. It was like the two of you had been waiting for this—waiting for the floodgates to open, for the chance to finally give in to the fire that had been burning between you.

But just as the kiss grew even more heated, just as your body pressed harder against his, something shifted. Remy hesitated, his lips slowing against yours, his grip on your waist loosening. And then, with a soft, almost pained groan, he pulled away.

His breath was ragged, his body still hovering over yours as he pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut as though he was trying to regain control. His chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing uneven, and you could feel the tremor in his hands as they stayed tangled in your hair, holding on like he didn’t want to let go.

You opened your eyes, still dazed, your heart racing in your chest as you tried to understand why he had stopped. The room was silent except for the sound of your breaths, mingling in the small space between you.

“Remy…” you whispered, your voice breathless and thick with confusion.

He shook his head, his forehead still resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice rough, filled with tension and something else—something that made your chest tighten. “I shouldn’t have…”

You stared up at him, your mind still spinning from the intensity of the kiss, from the way he had held you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “What are you talking about?” you whispered, your fingers still resting lightly on his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath your palm.

He pulled away slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression tight, conflicted. “I’m gonna go sleep in the spare room tonight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, like the words were painful for him to say.

Your heart sank, confusion and disappointment crashing over you in waves. “Why?” you asked, unable to keep the hurt from creeping into your voice. “Did I… did I do something wrong?”

Remy closed his eyes for a moment, as though he couldn’t bear the sight of your confusion, of the vulnerability in your voice. He let out a long breath, his hand brushing gently across your cheek before he pulled back completely, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

“No, chère,” he said quietly, his back to you now. “It’s not you.”

You stared at his back, your chest tightening at his words, at the weight of what he was saying. He wasn’t just talking about the kiss—he was talking about everything. About the way he felt, about the way he was trying so hard to hold himself back, even though you both knew he was already too far gone.

“Remy…” you whispered again, your voice thick with the emotion that had been building between you for so long.

But he shook his head, standing up from the bed and turning to face you, his expression soft but resolute. “Get some sleep,” he said quietly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. “I’ll see y’ in the morning.”

And then, before you could say anything else, before you could stop him, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving you alone in the darkness, your heart still racing, your mind spinning with everything that had just happened—and everything that hadn’t.

[bamjammy]

My Billford friends. I present you: Will Wood. This is song is them. Not up for debate, thanks and I’m correct. Analysis below. Also TBOB spoilers probably

This is a lyric by lyric analysis about why this song is them. Most of (if not all of the song) is Bill’s perspective in my mind, Will Wood definitely captures his weird chaotic energy. Not every lyric matches. That’s ok, I’m just gonna skip those. The song is still them. Lyrics will be in quotes, analysis will be in parentheses and also a different color.

“Why do you wanna kill me?”

(I also hear this as “what are gonna do, kill me?” sometimes cause it’s a little hard to understand him. I feel like both fit a bitter/cocky Bill talking to Ford in the pyramid)

“Say you're still her, the woman you were, and you haven't turned into someone who never could love me again”

(Ok obviously Ford is not a woman, we can just ignore that part. The point of the lyric is the narrator, in this case Bill, wanting reassurance that he is still loved, I feel like this would be more subconscious on Bill’s part, but that denial is absolutely palpable during weirdmaggedon/TBOB)

“'Cause you never broke my heart, no, you fixed it, and now it works, but only enough just to suffer that hurt. Whoa-oh-oh-oh”

(Ok I fucking love this line especially in this context. This is literally their entire dynamic like, c’mon. Bill, up to the point of meeting Ford, had been manipulating people all throughout human history. It really feels like Ford is the first one he got so deeply attached too, so much so that he would want to convince him to join him in ruling over everything as an agent of chaos. Ford was captivated by Bill the moment he met him, believing him to be a higher power capable of provisioning him with what he needs. As their relationship progresses they sort of have a reversal of roles, Ford comes to despise Bill and fear him, Bill comes to be obsessed with Ford. He NEEDS him. God I love this line)

“What can I say to convince you to slip back into my arms again? I won't do you no harm again. Let me tell you that I'm sorry and that-”

(I don’t think Bill would ever say sorry out loud unless it was specifically to be manipulative, but after reading TBOB there is clear regret at losing Ford. Even if it’s not remorse you can tell he wishes he’d gone about things differently even though he refuses to admit it. Also the “slip back into my arms again” thing, again I associate with him trying to convince Ford to join him in weirdmaggedon.)

“I'm just a little bit crazy about you, Just a little bit out of my mind, Just a little insane without you”

(Bill’s always been a little insane by nature of who he is, but he goes to such extremes to get Ford to stay with him (see TBOB missing journal pages) and then STILL tries to convince him during weirdmaggedon after he’d already been rejected and despised. He makes him CRAZY. It’s kind of sad)

“Please come back and be just a little bit mine- Just a little bit mine”

(He wants him back soooooo bad it’s really just pathetic at this point)

“I never thought, and if I did, I forgot while blacked out in love”

(I don’t think Bill thinks through much of what he does to Ford in those desperate moments if at all. They’re just that- desperate. Can also be interrupted as Bill possessing Ford, when he “blacks out” and finds himself harmed or in danger, he obviously can’t remember those moments when Bill takes over. Bill interrupts this as “blacked out in love” either to justify it to himself or to convince himself Ford still loved him. I think that’s a fun interpretation)

“That what's only starting would've come to an end but now, I'm hungover and hung out to dry, and I'm giving it time”

(Time passes faster for Bill, it should feel like a blip in his life but it consumes him. The “hungover” part, see TBOB “Losing Sixer”. It’s the best page)

“Does not knowing the truth turn my words into lies? Whoa-oh-oh-oh”

(I could see him absolutely trying to play dumb in last ditch attempt to get Ford to trust him again. Fucking loser lmao)

“What can I say to convince you or do to make you agree with me?”

(Again, desperate. See all my previous allusions to the weirdmaggedon scene)

“I don't need you to be with me, Just try to remember what you'd see in me”

(I feel like this line could be a breaking point for Bill, where he’s desperately grasping at anything to make Ford continue his work, including harming, threatening him, etc. I know a lot of these lines have come back to the same thing but it’s just. The vibes, y’know? I feel like this is specifically the part where Bill tries to call Stan, which scares Ford into actually reaching out to him, Bill inadvertently causing his own demise. That’s from TBOB btw. I warned you about spoilers)

(Cut the chorus since I already analyzed it)

“I'll be here singing 'til our heartbeats might slip back into that rhythm again”

(Bill waiting for the right moment to strike. The moment Ford steps out of the portal Bill sees an opportunity, he’s done biding his time. You feel me?)

“Whether it is or isn't the end, Who cares? God knows that I could use a friend!”

(Bill is living in so much denial it’s suffocating. I mean, it’s not even just Ford, it’s his whole life. He’s in denial about how people in his home dimension treated him, he’s in denial about the fact that he’s not all powerful, he’s in denial about how similar he is to humans, and he’s in denial about Ford not loving him (and also in denial about Loving Ford). There is no end because he refuses to accept it, but then tries to brush it off like he doesn’t care, because he’s in denial about caring. My boy, YIKES!!!)

Cut the rest of the song cause it’s just the chorus again but longer. Anyway yeah the point of this is Bill is a desperate freaky ex with weirdo Will Wood energy, Will Wood’s music is good and I love it and you should listen to him if you haven’t, and I’m not normal about them and their weird fucking dynamic. Enjoy and eat well my strange creatures

[girl4music]

Isn’t it interesting how even though Xena can’t remember Gabrielle or the woman she’s helped her become, she’s still a kind and soft-hearted person. Even when she can’t remember anything at all. She’s still someone who puts peace and compassion first.

Proving that she was never truly evil. She was just corrupted and twisted into being that way. It’s the same that she was in ‘When Fates Collide’ too because Caesar hadn’t betrayed her in that life yet. She was still a warrior in that alt-universe but she wasn’t ruthless or overly violent. She was kind and fair.

Not sure I’ll articulate this well. But it’s almost like her 10 year long darkness was merely just a blip in her life because she wasn’t meant to be that way in nature.

Xena might have turned good on her own but she couldn’t have possibly stayed on that path without Gabrielle’s influence and other positive influences in her life. Lao Ma. Hercules. Borias. But at the same time, she couldn’t have been persuaded to turn any way if she was truly evil. Nevertheless she had an epic life that maybe was just a little bit too exciting for her.

Xena’s heart was always compatible with Gabrielle’s because they were of one soul. Always. Past, present and future. Therefore, it makes sense to me that she changed her ways because her heart was always guiding her to until she finally met the one person who could stop her from fluctuating back and forth. That was a constant cornerstone to the truth of who she is.

So every time she lost her memory or sense of self or her history was re-written in another life or reality - that’s what seemed to have stuck. Her true nature. Which was much closer to the nature of Gabrielle than any of that 10 year long darkness that preceded her.

All it really proves is that she was never truly evil and it made her receptive to Gabrielle instead of resistant because there was no corruptive force within her yet.

That’s so interesting to me. That she did very evil things in her period of darkness but she wasn’t evil in nature. She was actually good and so she could be reached up until the point when it was far too late.

[voxofthevoid]

Posting Schedule: April & May 2024

I'm merging the months since the April anniversary project has outgrown April rather egregiously. It is funny how I said just last month that I'm cutting down my updates to four a month, and now we have eight each for these two months. But to be fair, the word count is pretty much the same because these are shorter fics (...mostly).

April:

2. Chapter 1/1 of the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself

JJK; goyuu; When Yuuji’s fifteen, Gojou Satoru dies; when Yuuji’s seventeen, Gojou Satoru is born.

6. Chapter 1/1 of (it wasn't hard to realize) love's the death of peace of mind

JJK; goyuu; When a blip in time lands sixteen-year-old Satoru in the future, he finds himself in possession of a cursed object sporting his own eyes and a grieving boy who can’t look away from those eyes.

12. Chapter 1/2 of because the negative sex was born into a bloodline

JJK; kenita; Yuuji makes reasonable assumptions about the handsome man stalking him. Kenjaku gets to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

14. Chapter 1/1 of caught the teacher giving his eyes to a student

JJK; goyuu; Megumi finds out that Gojou’s been giving Yuuji some hands-on sex education.

19. Chapter 1/1 of will we remain stuck in the throat of gods

JJK; sukuita with past!goyuu; A bad breakup isn’t a good excuse to fuck the monster rotting your soul, but Yuuji’s made worse decisions—probably.

23. Chapter 1/1 of this was something you incited, you opened up and invited

JJK; goyuu; Satoru learns why most alphas don’t fuck other alphas.

26. Chapter 1/1 of we can be anything we want to be (make shit up and live it completely)

JJK; goyuu; An offhand comment leads to Yuuji discovering the dubious joys of pet ownership.

30. Chapter 1/1 of this is the wrong story

JJK; goyuu; In a faraway forest enclosed in Brahmic barriers, there’s a boy who loves and hates the world in equal measure.

May

3. Chapter 1/1 of vulgarity (the glory and the virtue died so long ago)

JJK; goyuu; Yuuji’s hormones battle his morals while his half-naked teacher sleeps on his lap.

8. Chapter 1/1 of somebody ought to corrupt you on the dance floor and take you home

JJK; hiita; A wardrobe malfunction drastically alters the aftermath of Yuuji’s fight with Higuruma.

10. Chapter 1/1 of never seen such a pretty wicked thing

JJK; goyuu; Satoru has a late-night philosophical discussion with the King of Curses.

15. Chapter 2/2 of because the negative sex was born into a bloodline

JJK; kenita; Yuuji makes reasonable assumptions about the handsome man stalking him. Kenjaku gets to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

19. Chapter 1/1 of i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

JJK; goyuu; Satoru’s ward is in that peculiar purgatory between puberty and presentation. He tries to help.

23. Chapter 1/1 of you're like a goddess in disguise (i'm drowning slowly in your eyes)

JJK; fem!goyuu; Yuuji finds religion in her teacher’s tits, violently.

26. Chapter 1/1 of but lover, you're the one to blame

JJK; goyuu; Yuuji acquires a doll that’s sympathetically connected to Satoru. It’s innocent until it isn’t.

31. Chapter 1/7 of i can offer you a black-lit paradise

JJK; itagofushi; Satoru plays favorites with his students in the worst way possible. Megumi suffers, while Yuuji’s oblivious—and horny.

The dates are tentative, the order isn't set in stone, and I am about to become void soup.

If anything's repeated or mismatched, ignore for now. I'll look over this again when these fic titles/dates aren't at risk of setting my eyes on fire.

[that-one-i-think]

MCD SCIFI AU GENDER AND SEXUALITY

PART 1 - THE MAIN CREW

Aphmau - Aroace - Agender She/They. She is here for queer-platonic relationships and that is it. She is a clone of a once powerful alien species that was created at the start of the series, I am not gonna be putting her in romantic relationships cause that feels weird to me.

Garroth - Bisexual - Cisgender He/Him. He is the (not so) straight man of the crew and I wanted to make him basic. If one was to ask what he finds attractive he would say "A crew that doesn't cause so much property damage"

Laurance - Pansexual - Transgender He/They - Coming from an insect species raised in an arachnid spider village, he was always the smallest girl around until he one day found out that he was just an averaged sized spider man, even though he is a bee and not a spider. "It makes sense, shut up." - Laurance

Katelyn - Pansexual - Cisgender(?) She/Her but also Sir - Katelyn is a woman who likes people but she likes the authority that comes with masculinity in human cultures, having been raised half human. Essentially, She/Her unless it is authoritative then its Sir or Daddy. Probably closer to Demigirl tbh.

Zoey - Omnisexual - Intersex Transwoman She/They - Coming from a species of plant people who can choose what secondary sex characteristics they can have once they reach "blooming age", she chose to be a woman as that is her most self.

Travis - Omnisexual - Gender fluid He/They and sometimes She - A shapeshifting slime that exists to love and be loved! Likes to present in a rather masculine form but kinda vibes it out. Very go with the flow, or go with the viscous goo that is their body.

Dante - Mostly Straight - Cisgender He/Him - He is almost completely straight with the exception of Travis. Any gender presenting Travis too, it is the one blip on his completely straight history and he is okay with that. His sexuality can be a bit fluid when it comes to this fluid fella.

Nana - Panromantic Demisexual - Nonbinary She/They - They are here for a good and long time. They want a stable relationship with her boyfriend (Dante) and her sapphic queer-platonic lover, Zoey.

Lo - Just Queer He/Him but She/Her in Drag - Lo identifies as queer, plain and simple. He is a companion, entertainer, and drag queen so he is a lot of things and feels that simplicity in chaos is the finest.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Someone recently claimed that the new Davies era of doctor who has no more wokism* than the show used to.

Now, maybe I've just changed in the past few decades, but from what I've heard of the 60th anniversary specials it does seem a tad more concentrated. Cherry-picking SPOILERS, sweeties.

- Donna got married offscreen. To what I can only assume is the last black cab driver in London.

- Her kid is trans. Specifically, non-binary, female presenting, says the wiki.** - In the next episode, we learn the Doctor is gay/bi when he thinks Sir Isaac Newton is hot. I'd smugly say this bit has no real relevance, but...the actual scene does carry the episode theme of accidentally changing reality. It's just the queer bit that seems tacked on. Though it does carry forward themes from 10s era. - Sir Zack himself is played by a half-Indian actor. It's not exactly hard to tell. I'm assuming they're running on Bridgerton logic. https://twitter.com/frozenaesthetic/status/1731332492282429950 - This episode is basically just Donna and the Doc exploring a weird location, and running into monsters, who happen to look like them. It would be a bottle episode, except for the large vfx budget. And yet ol' Rusty somehow managed to awkwardly wedge in an  progressive issue. - In the next episode, the villain explains how he's just exploiting the divisions that already exist in human society, including cancel culture. - no wait he's got a point. Jpg - This is ironic, given that Davies and/or his broadcasting house masters are pretty blatantly on the team that a) coined the word,  b) cancels people the most often, and c) defends the idea of Internet lynch mobs*** (***as long as they're left wing. If not, they're *ist "trolls", even if they're just complaining about the latest sacred cow.) Maybe the Davies was criticizing his own team. * Because the Toymaker was kind of racist back in the day (white dude dressed like a stereotypical Chinese dude), Davies made the new version a bit racist "as a callback to his original, problematic depiction back in 1966." - TVtropes, ref. DW Unleashed. On the other hand, the Toymaker also mocks and dresses as several other cultural archetypes. All the ones I've seen were white European ones. He just does this to everyone, apparently. - Toymaker also weaponizes the Spice Girls hit "Spice Up Your Life". No, I will not explain. Though I will note that a line about the "Yellow man in Timbuktu" was apparently drowned out in the episode. Probably for being a tad spicy. - One new UNIT character is a lady in a wheelchair. When the new Tardis - no, I will not explain - has a wheelchair ramp, she happily points it out. Which makes me wonder why the blue box would be so limited, considering it often deals with alien species. - Also, the same actress played a disabled Companion in the Big Finish audio dramas. I'm not sure why it was considered essential to do so in an entirely audio format, but there have been controversies over this sort of thing before (EG Artie on Glee, various racial voice acting controversies). - At this point, casting Ncuti Gatwa as 15 doesn't even register. Not really a blip on my radar. Black Doc? Whatevs. His sonic screwdriver has Rwandan words on it? So? I go to church with lots of Africans. Heck, I'm a black immigrant to ol' Blighty myself, just from the other side of the pond. Ncuti is, chronologically speaking, more British than I am. - Though given that he's Rwandan-Scottish, there may be some debate on the "British" part. - Wikipedia says the actor is pretty left-wing, but the actor seems good so far, so I'm willing to give him a sha-

Oh, come ON!

Maybe the original person speaking was comparing it to the Chibnall “history has always been a whitewash” era, which had a character who was a paper thin Trump satire. A tad ironic, when the whole point of bringing Davies, Tennant, and Tate back is to play on nostalgia.

*Tangent: that word was apparently voted  the most annoying words in English. Which is kind of hilarious if you know that it was originally created to self-describe certain progressives. And the "you can't even define that word!" meme was almost certainly ripped off from the right wing "what is a woman?" Meme. ** This is apparently because she's part Time Lord, through Donna. It seems a tad interesting to me that a few works featuring non binary characters happen to make them enby due to some sort of supernatural (Omniscient Reader) or sci-fi (SW Squadrons) influence which the vast majority of IRL enbies don't have. ...As far as I know.

[rinniereads123]

Series

SOME OF THESE STORIES ARE MATURE! READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE YOU READ!

Last updated 01/06/2025

★ - personal favorites | masterlist | other recs

The Rite - @lokisgoodgirl

As an invisible member of the wider Asgardian court, everything changes when you catch the eye of the elusive Prince Loki under unconventional circumstances. Pressured by time (and his brother) Loki is reminded he must complete a particular Rite in order to secure his place in Asgard's succession - all he needs is a partner. But adhering to the strict rules in the approach to the ceremonial Rite is more challenging than hedonistic, smugly smoldering Loki anticipated...as are his growing feelings for you.

★Does It Hurt? - @ellemj

Bucky never would've gone out of his way to help you if he knew that HYDRA was still watching his every move, if he knew that it would shift their focus to you. When you're targeted and taken, it's his fault and he'll do anything to save you. Anything.

Doll, please - @lokiswifeduh

Bucky is taken by the reader's ex-boyfriend. You go to save him, not knowing it's a trap.

★Love You Like Oxygen - @questionableratatouille00

You and Bucky’s journey through navigating sexual trauma.

★Graveyard - @wkemeup

As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too. 

You Can't Leave Me - @thinkingoutlouddblog

A fight with Bucky distracts you from your mission.

Just let me go - @itsthewritergal

Y/N and Bucky are exes with a history. When Y/N is kidnapped, the Avengers come to her aid, but can she and Bucky make amends?

★your hands have made some good mistakes - @thenhewaswrongaboutme

Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger. His teammates went on an international press tour and left him behind. They hired someone to supervise him, per the conditions of his pardon— a roommate, they said. A roommate?

One's Promised - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Flustered - @ellemj

Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.

Of Kings and Beasts - @nastybuckybarnes

Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrusted to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

All the King's Men - @nastybuckybarnes

Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

Worthy - @xalygatorx

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC that spans the timeline of the mentioned films in the disclaimer section below. I got to connect some loose ends for myself that I noticed in the films and I hope that they're just as enjoyable for you to revisit as they were for me at the time of writing this and now, reposting it. (Fluff and angst within with a confirmed happy ending.)

Underground - @adrinktostopyourthirst

The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.

Missing Piece - @likeahorribledream

When Bucky first arrived to the compound, Steve was his only friend and the only person he trusted himself around. That is until Steve introduces him to you, his best friend. Bucky was fascinated by how often you and Steve would hug each other. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in such a loving way and it didn’t take long before Bucky found himself craving your touch, but whenever you’d get too close he would flinch as if someone had hit him. His trauma still too fresh a wound for him to be comfortable with someone touching him. Then one day, he finally fights his instincts and let you touch him. He hadn’t realized how truly touch starved he was until he feels the warmth of your skin against his. Something clicks for the both of you in that moment, you had found your missing piece. As long as you were with each other, you were home. You both tried to fool yourselves into thinking you were just friends, really close friends. Friends that needed to be together almost every minute of every day and who needed to hold each other to be able to sleep at night.

★Needs and Wants - @ellemj

When you and Bucky are exposed to an unknown chemical in the field, things go from bad to worse.

Afterglow - @fictive-sl0th

After weeks of research on the super serum, you, a young talented scientist, have settled in well with the Avengers. Pepper and Nat became your best friends, Bruce your colleague, Cap a gentleman, and Bucky one to trust. Only Prince Loki who's forces to support Earth indefinitely, seems especially annoyed by you. One fateful day, when an experiment went horribly wrong, your life would change forever. Just like what you thought you knew about feelings and emotions...

Plum - @buckybabieboy (not complete)

After a bad day outside and an incident with Bucky, you catch an inexperienced!bucky pathetically humping your pillow. Your sadistic thoughts cause you to get carried away. Bucky's up to it at first, just wanting you to make him feel good. But as the night goes on he begins to realize he was in over his head.

Kingdom Fall - @nastybuckybarnes (not complete)

When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be. 

[harrietsdreams]

Chapter 4

This trip could be both a catastrophe and the most important moment of my life. Our arrangement was odd to say the least. My parents were already there, as they were terrified of what the oldest Allard might mean by news. So Theodore offered to drive us there, together for hours on end.

Lily refused to enter the backseat. No one protested; in the end, she lost a game she didn't even know she was part of.

I took it all in: the noises becoming quieter, the strong pine smell, tiny villages populated by even tinier numbers of inhabitants. Entire lives and histories, we were only part of for a blip of a second. Our messy and confusing lives, fated to never cross theirs.

Maybe it was for the best as I initiated multiple attempts at conversations between Leon and Cadie, resulting in screaming matches. All of them ended with Theodore threatening to drive into a ditch if they didn't stop.

Lily seemed to not mind any of this as she gave a four-hour presentation of her life story and positive attributes. Cadie and I endorsed her with casual comments of encouragement. Some of those made me uneasy. Leon knew, did he not? Oh, God.

Theodore nodded profusely, probably too engulfed in his first time driving on a highway. Nervously asking everyone if it was alright. Spoiler alert: it was not. Despite all this, we also laughed a lot, and Cadie responded politely to Leon one time. Lily went hauntingly silent at the entrance that led to the country house. And for the finale, Theo let out a profound sigh.

There we were, that same golden light shining through those wheat fields. At a loss, I asked the empty space how I was supposed to feel.

Mom. Would you expect me to smile? I apologise but I will refrain. Holding on to the promise we made with your eyes full of joy. That all you needed was my smile, and you would always be there. So I don’t, to keep you in a “Schrödinger's state.” Despite my ramblings, I am not all that different from Grandma. In this state of ambiguity, your hair remains superior to this golden sunset.

Perceiving myself as small and powerless. Can you help me through these feelings? Directly beneath that place looming above.

“Harriet!” I heard my aunt-turned-mother. A tangible one, more motherly than a ghost I sorely miss. “Have you been sleeping well?” She asked, gulping.

“As well as I can,” I answered honestly. She could tell either way.

“Grandma is alright… So if you want to go home-”

“I made up my mind to face this head on.” I probably should not mention Cadie or the deal we all made about my parents. My aunt knew my mother as her sister before I even existed… It must be difficult.

“Alrighty! Then I should mention that the Olives are here. You used to play with their kids so well…” She barely concealed a grin as she attempted to nonchalantly say that.

“Oh please, honey! You are so obvious,” Uncle added.

“Right? Her face says it all!” I grinned, reaching out for a hug.

She welcomed me in her arms but not without adding a snarky remark, “They grew up to be fine adults. Either way, give them a chance.”

I giggled harder, resembling a tall child in her embrace, and my auntie seemed to relax after that. “Sure. Why not?” I lowered my voice. “What do they say about that floor?”

My uncle looked behind him as if a ghost would appear. “The same as usual.”

“Dears, if you are about to badmouth me, at least enter my home before you do it.” She shot a harsh gaze towards her daughter and son-in-law. I turned towards her, preparing my greetings, but Grandma's eyes that fixated on me were unkind.

“Harriet. You-” Grandma visibly noticed her expression, fixing it to the usual one. “Enter. Your room is ready.” She stormed inside, running out of sight.

***

Leon and Lily immediately installed themselves in their respective bedrooms, like they had never left. I also rushed to deposit my belongings, envying their ease. Theodore and Cadie seemed to be missing. Did Grandma say something to them?

Later. I will ask them later. “My bedroom” felt spacious, far from the safe and cosy box back in the city. This house seemed to me unlike reality, resembling a portal I had traversed, someplace else. A voice inside told me: “You are not welcome.”

Setting foot into a fairy-tale, it felt like a princess chamber forgotten in this nowhere place. And I had fallen from a black hole and ended up here; after all, I was not suited for such stories.

I fell flat on the perfectly made bed. Balancing between the urge to stay in outside clothes or be a healthy, functional person. As my mind flooded with pesky dark clouds, the bed sunk into the shape of my body. Hours of almost falling asleep or minutes at a time turned into giving up.

I scooped my bunny-shaped slippers from my bag, not caring for the mess of clothes left. Rapidly, I was out of the door, with the sneaking ability to not wake up a large family while drinking water at night. 

Soon my feet found themselves in an unfamiliar mansion’s garden. It seemed dreamy, so well-kept that even the leaves and rocks appeared to be beautifully placed. Different from any distorted memory in my earliest memories, estranged from myself.

The fresh air lessened a headache I had been festering, and everything felt peaceful. Following a path made from minuscule pebbles led to a strange structure, which upon closer inspection was a fountain. In the centre stood some goddess with a deer-like animal. Moss grew in unflattering places; it was a decrepit monument of time, amongst well-groomed vegetation.

Why was that? Inspecting my surroundings, there was no rhyme or reason for this contrast.

Then I heard footsteps. "Lilian? What are you doing here? It's a little late, don't you think?" said a calm male voice. His chuckles resonated through the night.

[vvolfstare]

✪ main ✪ bio ✪ face ✪ muse ✪ wishlist ✪

about:

This is a sideblog, and I follow back from my main @grimmusings. Please direct IMs there, since it's easier for me to keep all my messages on one blog. It's also easier to start interactions with me there, where I regularly post open starters and meme prompts. For a full list of rules, see my main. Honesty hour questions will largely be answered IC and treated as anonymous unless signed by a muse.

All details vary based on verse, but in general I play Bucky based on an MCU timeline with 616 plots/connections added as needed. Specifically, I almost always include his history with Natasha in the Red Room, whether that relationship was romantic or platonic.

11/24: Unless we're already writing together, I'm currently only accepting canon Marvel/MCU connections for Bucky. This will not affect current threads or plots.

wanted connections:

This is by no means a comprehensive list, and I can roll with most muses as far as basic interactions. I’m happy to ship Bucky with other Marvel characters and OCs/fandom crossovers based on chemistry, but unless they’re on my OTP list, they need plotting and interaction first. There is never any pressure to ship with me, even if they’re on my list.

OTPs: Steve Rogers (happy to write and rewrite every AU for my favorite idiots), Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Brock Rumlow Possible Ships: Natasha Stark, Matt Murdock, Tony Stark, probably most of the Avengers NOTPs: Peggy Carter, Sharon Carter, Howard Stark, Alexander Pierce, MCU Peter Parker (he thinks of him more like a son or a little brother), most muses who are significantly younger (if he's calling them "kid," he's gone dad-mode, sorry) Family: I have a lot of love for Dad!Bucky and Brother!Bucky, so I'm always happy to play against his canon or OC kids and siblings Other: all Avengers, Kobik, Ian Rogers, Logan Howlett, Howling Commandos

default verses:

catfa: An MCU verse with any events that take place during or before Captain America: The First Avenger, before Bucky's fall from the train.

winterverse: An MCU/616 verse with Bucky's time as a captive, first with the Soviets and then with HYDRA. (winter!soldier)

catws: An MCU verse with any events that take place during Captain America: The Winter Soldier or relate to Project Insight. (winter!soldier)

cacw: An MCU verse with any events that include Bucky's time on the run, including the Avenger's Civil War and his time in Wakanda, leading up to the battle against Thanos.

alt!postblip: A post-Endgame canon-divergent MCU verse where Steve passes the shield on to Sam and stays in the current timeline like a character who didn’t just undo 3+ movies of development. He’s there to help Bucky and Sam re-adjust to the world post-blip and learn the ropes on being Cap.

tfatws: An MCU verse that takes place during or after the events of The Falcon & the Winter Soldier.

thunderbolts: An MCU post-TFATWS verse where Bucky continues trying to atone for the Winter's Soldier's actions by joining the Thunderbolts.

mcu: An MCU verse with any events taking place after Bucky breaks from HYDRA, usually divergent from the above timelines.

616: A mix of 616 and headcanons, typically written for comics muses who don't acknowledge things like the MCU Civil War or Thanos.

multiverse!madness: Various comics universes collide, whether Marvel/DC/etc. have always existed on the same Earth, or other-dimension shenanigans are at work. Duplicate friendly!

I'm happy to write these, but since they're more specific AUs, I don't default on them for asks/memes. Please feel free to request them.

mcu/comics aus:

captain!barnes: Any AU verse where Bucky takes the serum in Steve's place, or Steve falls from the train and Bucky picks up the shield.

dad!verse: Any MCU/616 mashup AU where Bucky has canon or OC children. While I'm happy to accept children from any muse, please do not assume Bucky is still with the other parent in the present timeline without prior discussion unless they're on the OTP list.

earth-3490: A blip comics universe where Steve is married to Natasha Stark (Iron Woman). When he discovers the Winter Soldier file, he takes it to his wife, she has time to adjust to the idea, and the Avengers’ Civil War never happens. Also open to a poly ship with Steve/Toni/Bucky in this verse.

hydra!world: A comics universe set in Earth-85826, where fascist dictator Arnim Zola rules the world with HYDRA. Bucky works deep undercover as a double agent within HYDRA while secretly helping the resistance. Few people know that, under Zola's orders, he assassinated Red Skull early in the regime change to cement his loyalty and take out the competition.

superhusbands: An MCU AU where Bucky doesn’t fall from the train in the Alps. Steve catches him, and they go after Red Skull together. They’re both on the Valkyrie when it crashes into the ocean and wake up together seventy years later.

welcome to westview: Roughly a month after Endgame, Natasha is dead and Steve has returned to the past. Devastated and struggling with rehabilitation, Bucky ventures into Westview with Wanda for a false happily ever after scenario.

fandom specific aus:

bodyguard: A no-powers AU where Bucky is an ex-Army Sergeant who now works in private security.

horror!verse: Bucky is infected with either lycanthropy or vampirism during his time as the Winter Soldier. (werewolf!bucky / vampire!bucky)

james dean daydream: A no-powers AU where Bucky and Steve are too young for the war, and he never becomes the Winter Soldier. He's a greaser in his 20s during the 1950s.

super!mcu: A mash-up of the Supernatural and Marvel Cinematic universes, where the Winchesters manage to stop the first apocalypse shortly before Thanos snaps away half the universe.

twd!verse: A zombie apocalypse AU that follows a Walking Dead timeline. Bucky may still be a prisoner of HYDRA or surviving on his own.

you jump, i jump: A Titanic AU set in 1912, where Bucky is being forced to marry a woman he barely knows to preserve his family's name and fortune, but he meets someone aboard the ship who has him dare to imagine a different life.

[ggswaywardgifrepository]

Spoilers for Resident Evil 4 remake.

Now that I’ve finished and am onto replaying Resident Evil 4 remake…

Ada was about the only thing that wasn’t improved upon. Blip on the radar Wesker wasn’t great, either. Sally Cahill and Richard Waugh were the best in those roles and where other iconic performances have been matched, Ada and Wesker (again, for his very brief cameo) didn’t stack up.

I do like that Leon is more guarded with Ada in the remake verse. It makes sense he’d be apprehensive—once bitten and all. That’s probably the thing that has always bothered me about their older interactions. He was too trusting and naive in the original RE2.

But I get their chemistry. Ada was always the perfect mix of flirty and aloof, only showing how deeply she genuinely cares for Leon when shit is dire.

Remake Ada comes off as bored, put-upon, and like she just doesn’t give a shit.

Upset for how the game butchered her but pleased for the way Leon and Luis get on this time around.

Effortless humor and chemistry, and Luis has become my favorite thing about the whole game. He’s funny but he’s also very sympathetic. I knew they were still going to give him the same ultimate fate as in the original but it wrecked me when it happened.

That change also really solidified Krauser as a true villain. While the majority of the original RE4 told us all about him and his history with Leon, most of what should’ve defined him as a character was pre-canon.

It was still that way to a point, but the presentation was better this time, plus, he took that major action toward showing us why we should hate him.

[doctornilayxaksoy-esfahani]

She tried to do what he asked of her. She tried so hard to stop apologizing. But... How could she? Causing each other pain, while never intentional, always racked Nilay up with guilt. It was agony to see Moshe hurt because of her and she wished, by g-d did she wish, that she could take it all away. Take away the pain and confusion between her and Elijah with a snap of her fingers so that they could be okay. Because if they're okay, everything else would be okay. The girls would be okay. The cats would be okay. Moshe would be okay. Things would be better. And she hated that she couldn't do that. "I-I'm sorry," she whimpered out again. Her voice a soft squeak, no louder than a mouse's, as she looked up at him carefully.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he was right. That she was alright. But the more she looked up at him, the more guilt she felt. She knew how much he loved her; It was the same amount of love she held for him. For most of their lives together, loving and protecting each other was second nature, like breathing. And right now, she was failing in protecting him. How could she not feel guilty over that?

As he pulled away, she held onto the sides of her neck with her hands. Trying to keep herself steady as she tried her best to breathe. Days like this were when her pessimism shone brighter. It was a side of her that she tried so hard to keep locked inside a chest, wanting it to never see the light of day. As a child in the system, as a child going from one home to another in Mardin, as a child who ranged between going from a good family to a horrible one and never knowing what she'll get, pessimism had been her closest friend. It clung to her, whispering constant doubts and fears into her ear, ensuring that she knew exactly what she was: an unlovable little girl with no past, no present, and no future; a nobody with no hope of things getting better. The times she was able to quiet those voices, when she was able to fight back against pessimism, was when she was learning about history. May it have been at a museum, a historical site, a library, or any place that she could be able to find more information and to learn more, optimism took place. And one day, that optimism became humanized in the forms of the Baileys. Choosing her, wanting her, loving her. And over time, optimism was in her life and pessimism was locked away.

Now? Pessimism repeated its old behaviour, whispering in her ear and clouding her thoughts. It'll be alright in the end, dove, Moshe said. But will it be? She doesn't know. She wants it to be, though. She wishes for it greatly, more than anything. Elijah's her soulmate; She didn't want to lose him. But did he even want her to fight for him and for their relationship? It was hard to tell.

Following Moshe to the kitchen, she sighed softly before leaning against the counter. And then... There was that little addition as well... "I can't," she whispers. "At least... Not entirely. Eli shared a secret with me and I refuse to share it without his consent. All I... can really share is that, it's left me feeling scared that all of this, all of these years of being together, every single moment together, has been a lie. That the only reason why we're together is because of the girls. That... he's not in love with me. That he's never been in love with me." Her voice cracked with the first admission of fearing that Elijah wasn't in love with her. Her Egyptian accent grew thicker the more emotional she became and it was hard to keep speaking in English. But, as she shook her head and swallowed thickly, she kept on trying to. Along with trying to take the deep breaths he's asked of her. "I'm so terrified that I'm losing him... but... can you even lose someone who might not have even been yours in the first place? I just... I want to be wrong so much. I want this to just be a blip that we can work through together. I need to know that he's in love with me and that he chooses me the same way I choose him every day. I want to be wrong, Bear. I so desperately want to be wrong and that my fears are just that: fears. But if there's even just the possibility that I'm right..." Shaking her head once more, she whispered tearfully, "I-I don't what to do."

📜@moshebehar

"Hush, my love," Moshe murmured, the frustration that had propelled him to his feet dying a quiet death in the back of his throat as he held Nilay to him. He splayed his fingers where his hand rested against her back for a moment before he began to move― rubbing circles where his hand had settled as he listened to her speak. "You don't need to apologize, darling, you're alright." His voice cracked for a moment on the affectionate term and he forced himself to breathe, forced himself to focus on what Nilay was telling him rather than drifting a thousand miles away as his thoughts frantically ran through any way he might be able to help her. He could provide her comfort in that moment― he was certain of that― but when she left, when she returned to her own home, what could he do then?

He couldn't be there every moment of every day― as much as he might've wanted to be― and he was a hair's breadth away from losing his temper again with every sob she pressed in his chest. It felt a bit like he was being repeatedly bashed over the head with a bottle― sharp and aching in a way he couldn't help but feel; instead of focusing on it, he listened. He pressed another kiss against her temple and tried to keep himself steady― tried to give her a safe place to settle as he'd always done, as he intended to do for the rest of their lives.

He hesitated for a moment as he pulled away― his gaze dropped to his socks and settled there for longer than he might've liked but he was at a loss for words; he wanted to reassure her― god, he wanted nothing more than to promise her that everything would be alright in the end but that wasn't something he could promise. He couldn't predict where things would settle, as much as he hoped they would be fine in the end― it hurt not to know how to help, it hurt not be able to comfort his best friend in a way he felt reasonably confident in. Uncertainty had always clawed at him on his best days but never with Nilay― never with the one person in the world he imagined he understood better than anyone else. He exhaled slowly and smiled, hoped it reached his eyes as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead before he stepped away to go through the motions of making tea. "It'll be alright in the end, dove," He said from his position at the counter, glancing over his shoulder to look at her.

"I'm afraid I'm a bit clueless as to what's going on, though. Can you talk about it? Or is that... too difficult just now? I'm not going to push you either way but... well, I'm here. If you'd like to talk or if you don't want to. We can genuinely just sit and have tea and I'd be alright with that," he said, waving a hand absently as he parsed through the selection of tea he kept in the house and plucked two bags out when he was settled on something. "Take a few deep breaths for me in the meantime, please?"

[captain-tch]

Trinkets (Glenn Rhee x Platonic!Reader)

You collect items from significant points during the apocalypse.

TW: mention of suicidal thoughts and description of gore under the cut!

The first thing you ever collected was a pebble. It was the smoothest pebble you had ever seen, its shape so symmetrical you felt a compulsion to slide it into your pocket to treasure forever. It became a comfort to stroke it's smooth surface, to calm your racing heart whenever you were nervous. It reminded you of a time when all of this had begun, and you were alone until he sat besides you.

There was a slight chill in the air. You tugged your jumper closer to your chest, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine. From here you could smell the acidic smoke drifting from the fire at camp; you couldn't face them today. They were all laughing, chatting mindlessly as if they weren't plagued with nightmares over what had transpired over the past few weeks. Nearly everyone sitting around that campfire had someone from their life before, someone they could trust and confide in, and those that didn't had settled in so well it's like they'd always been there.

You had no one.

You never settled in or found an old friend or family member by the craziest of coincidences. Just like always you could only rely on yourself. Sometimes that wasn't enough. Sometimes when the memories of blood and gore become too much your body craves the familiar comfort of being pulled into an embrace, the weight of their body against yours enough to distract you for a precious few minutes. Here though? No one here had the power to do that, the fleeting touches of strangers only adding to your anxiety and not soothing.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you rested your hands behind you, feeling the pinch of the pebbles beneath as you looked up at the night sky. If there was one perk of the end of the world, it would be the way the stars shone so bright. Up there, there were galaxies and civilisations that you could only dream of. You weren't even looking up at the stars in real time, the light taking so long to reach earth that you were a mere observer to history by simply looking up. You felt like those stars. Caught up in the past and trying to focus on the present, and failing miserably.

"Hey." A voice broke you out of your stupor. You jumped, spinning around to have your heart rate calm when you realised it was Glenn. He was one of those that had arrived at the camp alone, his friendly nature allowing him to integrate into the group dynamic with ease. You envied him for that.

Meekly, you responded. "Hi."

"You should come by the fire, it's chilly out tonight." You noticed how Glenn was shuffling on his feet, gesturing a hand behind him to the fire.

"I'm fine." Your body took that moment to betray you. A visible shiver rocked your body.

"Okay... just know we're here if you need us." You heard the faintest of sounds, almost like a zipper being undone. A soft fabric fell into your lap. It smelt strongly of Glenn. You looked up at him; he merely shrugged.

This act of kindness brought a thin sheen to your eyes. This interaction was the first in a long time to remind you of what it was like to have a connection to someone, and for the briefest of blips, you were able to live in the present. Before you could help it, the words fell out of your mouth. "Stay."

"Are you sure?"

A weak smile curved onto your lips. You had isolated yourself from the group, terrified of reliving the pain of the past, but in doing so you made yourself even more miserable. Maybe you did need a friend. "Just because I'm alone doesn't mean I have to be lonely."

He walked towards you. He stood close enough you could feel his body heat: you relished in it, feeling it warm your cold bones. "You're not alone, you have us."

His presence was slowly warming both your body and soul. For the first time since arriving at the quarry, you felt included.

As you'd patted the ground beside you, your hand fell on the pebble.

The second thing you collected was the tiniest, most delicate of feathers. It was a muted brown, having fallen off a chicken at Maggie's farm. It had begun to fray with time yet you still held onto it as if it was made of gold.

You stood by the chickens and the hens, watching them chirp with a distant smile on your face. They reminded you of before.

"Would you like to feed them?" Maggie's voice interrupted your day dream. You jumped five feet into the air. "Sorry, I just noticed you watching them. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

You nodded.

"Let me grab you some chicken feed, I'll be right back." Maggie dipped away from your line of sight. You returned to gazing at the chickens with a lazy smile on your face.

Maggie came back quickly, two baskets in hand. She passed you one, showing you to spread the feed near the chickens. You fell into a pattern of sharing the feed, enjoying the joyful clucks the chickens made.

"Can I ask you a question?" You nodded your head. "Your friends with Glenn, right?"

You thought back on your memories of him. Sitting under the stars at the quarry to help you feel more relaxed, him saving your life as a walker was about to rip into you when the camp was overrun, and how he comforted you when the incessant beeping of the timer attacked you at the CDC. As a group you had all been through a lot; Glenn was always there. He sensed your nervousness, your fear, and he could make it melt away with just a funny comment or a smile. Friend felt like a strange term to use for someone you classed as family.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Why is he such a prick?"

You froze, frowning. "He's one of the kindest people I know."

"Nice people can be pricks too."

"Has something gone on?" Maggie stayed silent, her gaze fixed onto the chickens. You sighed. "He might have done a prick-ish thing, whatever it is, but I can tell you he is not a prick."

"Good to know."

"Do you like him?"

"Excuse me?"

"I see the way you look at him, Maggie, it's kind of obvious."

"Of course I like him. Why does it matter to you?"

"Because if you do, I need to give the "you ever hurt my friend" speech."

"Save your breath."

Maggie turned to leave, you placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "What you two have is good. Please don't throw it away."

She left. As odd as it sounded, it was nice to be involved in a drama that didn't involve walkers or blood shed.

You stayed by the chickens for a while, thriving in the normality of it all. The farm felt like it was frozen in time, taken from before things truly hit the fan. The chickens were clucking happily amongst themselves.

You felt a presence move besides you. From the corner of your eye you saw Glenn leaning against the chicken coup, looking down. Something was dripping off of his jaw.

"I've fucked up." Glenn whispered, head bowed low.

Concern flooded you. The chickens long forgotten, you turned to focus all of your attention on Glenn, unable to hold back your gasp. His hat was damp, and what you had mistaken as sweat was a yellow liquid slipping down his face.

"What the hell happened?" You took his face in your hands, swiping the liquid away with a thumb. He shied away from your touch.

"Maggie cracked an egg on my head." You opened your mouth to protest; before you could, he interrupted you. "I deserved it."

"Is everything okay between you two?"

Glenn took a deep breath, setting his jaw. "I saw something I shouldn't and now I'm worried for the group. For all of us."

"I'm assuming it has to do with Maggie?"

"I saw her family, Y/N. I saw her brother and..."

"Aren't they dead?" Glenn made no effort to confirm what you knew. The pieces started to fall into place as you realised Glenn was trying to tell you that the Greene family were hiding walkers on the very farm you took refuge on. As much as you wanted to be angry, you couldn't help the squeeze of your heart. Having lost all of your family in the early days, you could relate. You imagined this was them holding onto hope for a cure.

Reaching out, you squeezed Glenn's shoulder reassuringly. "What are you going to do?"

"What do you think I should do?" He was looking at you as if you held all of the answers. Since you two had become friends, you couldn't remember a single time he had asked for your help. He was smart and resourceful, seeming to know everything. As much as you wanted to help him, all you could do was shake your head.

"Glenn...That's not my choice to make."

"You're not going to tell anyone?"

"Only if you don't want me to."

Glenn seemed to sag in relief. In a voice so small you had to strain to hear him over the chickens, he confided. "I don't know what to do."

"No matter what, I support your decision." You bumped him with your hip. "I think you definitely need to shower."

"Yeah, no kidding." Glenn took his hat off of his head, spinning it around in his hands. "My hats ruined, isn't it?"

"We can get you a new one."

"No... I think I've grown out of it."

You took the hat from his hands, turning it around. A glimpse of brown caught your attention. You inspected it further, making out the tiniest of quills. A small laugh slipped past your lips.

As delicately as you could, you pulled the feather out of the hat.

The third item you collected was a torn page of a book. It looked like it had been from a self help book, the advice cut off as the page ended. There was one line underlined three times in pencil.

Glenn lingered by the cell door, rapping his hands against the iron railings. You turned your head towards him, a tired smile on your lips.

"What?"

"Wanna help clear the fence?" A spare knife was already in his hand, outreached towards you. Groaning, you threw your head against the pillow.

"I'm guessing that's not a suggestion."

"It's pretty bad out there and I need company."

"Ugh," you climbed out of the bed, moving out of the cell. You jokingly knocked his shoulder with yours. "You owe me."

"Yeah, sure." He rolled his eyes, pushing your arm and sending a teasing smile your way.

"Is there a reason you're asking me and not your girlfriend?"

"I miss my best friend."

His words made your heart warm. While it had taken you some time to settle into the group like you had once envied him for, you were closest to Glenn. He had supported you, and you had supported him, more times than you could count. "Aw, I'm your best friend?"

"Well, there's not exactly a lot of choice."

Mocking offence, you kicked the back of his leg. He slightly tripped, turning around to give you a playful glare. "Oh fuck off."

His words played on your mind as you methodically drove the knife into the walkers, watching them drop to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. It was the first time he had admitted out loud that he was your best friend, and all you had done was hit him. While it was something you both knew, it felt different hearing the words proclaimed out loud. Oh god, you thought to yourself, I'm a terrible friend.

"Glenn?"

"Hm?"

"You're my best friend too."

"Really?" He said breathlessly, pausing from killing the walkers. He was turned towards you and now you could feel the nerves bubbling in your gut. You had convinced yourself you wanted to tell him everything, and now your anxiety was sky high. Before you could think too much into it, you started to speak.

"Yeah, really. No one else tried as hard as you to help me fit in. I never told you, but at the CDC... I thought about it. For a split second I wanted to stay in that room with Jacqui and Jenner. The dead were walking, my family were dead or nowhere to be found and everything I knew had been turned upside down. But then you held me as I cried, and you fought to get out. I realised I had to get out for you."

"I... I never knew that."

Your head was bowed, words almost lost to the groans of the walkers. "I was ashamed."

"There's no shame in wanting to give up." Glenn wiped the sweat from his brow. He turned to face you, his face the most serious you had ever seen it. "You got back up, Y/N. I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too."

Glenn reached towards you, wrapping you into a hug. You were enveloped in the scent of sweat and dirt but it was his scent. He held you so tightly you could feel the imprint of Hershel's watch pressing into your hip but you didn't care.

A loud animalistic growl made you both jump. Pulling out of the embrace, you both resumed trying to clear the fence. Time seemed to fly by as your arms grew steadily more tired and your back felt as if it was burning under the Georgian heat. The grip you had on the knife was slick. All of the undead blurred into one, until a certain walker caught your attention.

"Oh my god Glenn, look at this." You gestured to a walker pawing at the fence. Nothing seemed abnormal until you looked at their chest, where a page had been pinned. One line in the book had been underlined.

The person that can help you is you.

Besides the underlined quote, a note was scribbled. "This is your sign to carry on."

You could imagine some poor soul pinning the note to the walker's chest. You imagined that walker falling on top of you, your arms weak, contemplating relaxing your arms for just a moment long enough to be torn apart. But then you'd see those words. You wanted to believe that someone placed that note there to save other people, it might have been the person who had turned, to provide a light when the world succumbed to the darkness.

Glenn plucked the page off of the walker's chest, batting aside it's probing hands. He handed it to you, a small smile on his face.

You rubbed the pebble, methodically stroking it's smooth surface. The sensation brought you a sense of calm. It was so dark inside of the container you could barely see your own hand in front of your face. The hard floor provided a strange comfort as the trinkets in your back pocket pressed into you.

Things had changed rather quickly.

You never realised how fast you could go from having a group, to having no one. The prison fell, and in the chaos you didn't see a single living soul. You could only pray that if any others survived, they didn't follow the train tracks like you had.

Sanctuary for all, what a crock of bullshit.

You had fought viciously to get here, fending off walkers, the elements, mother nature and the nature of man. You were so relieved to see the Terminus sign that you ignored the feeling in your gut, and now you were sitting in container D, waiting along with your other captives for god knows what.

If there was one small mercy, it was that they didn't take your collectibles. They had no use for a pebble, a feather and a loose page. They hadn't hesitated to strip you of your hat and jacket.

A thudding sounded on the roof of the container. You didn't even flinch as a gap in the roof appeared, a metal canister falling to the floor. You'd been here too many times to know what this meant.

The Termites entered the container, snatching at two men with you. You kept stroking the pebble, hoping they would walk right past you.

They walked towards you.

Dread filled you. There was safety of the unknown inside this container; but out there? You had been here long enough to know that the prisoners who left here didn't return.

You swallowed your fear, fixing them with the coldest stare you could until the bag was thrown over your head. You were pulled harshly to your feet. You tried to thrash out of their grip but there was no use. You cupped the pebble so tightly in your hand you could feel your fingernails digging into your palm.

You were dragged for what felt like miles. You kept tripping over your feet. You found yourself hoping that you would always be walking, and never reach the destination that you were certain was going to be your death bed.

They threw roughly to the floor. You fell to your knees, the cool floor freezing you to the bone. In one swift movement the bag was ripped from your head.

The first thing you saw was grey. The room could only be described as grey. Grey trough in front of you, grey floor, grey walls. A table towards the back of the room was grey; the thing on top was not. You couldn't hide your shock as you saw the body sat atop it, a leg missing.

The dots connected.

You were being held captive by cannibals.

You tried to swallow your fear. It felt like you were choking.

Four bodies were brought in besides you. You focused on them to distract yourself from the bubbling panic filling your veins. The bags were removed, your heart both soaring and sinking.

How ironic, that you would reunite in such dire circumstances.

At the same time you recognised them, they recognised you. Glenn sat besides you, his eyes wide with fear at your dejected state. Rick, Daryl and Bob were sat besides him, all gagged and bound like you were.

You tried to muster a smile, struggling to fight past the fabric tied around your mouth. All they did was stare at you, dumbfounded to have found a friend in this hell hole.

The first swing of the bat. At first you were confused, eyes following the sound. The man brought from your container was slumped over. The next moment, they had him pulled upright, slitting his throat.

You were transfixed by the red filling the trough in front of you. It never stopped. The man next to you started to panic, his worries quickly silenced with the swing of the weapon. His blood sprayed on your cheek as they slit his throat.

You felt a presence behind you.

It was at the minute you had the rushing realisation you were the next victim. Your body started to shut down. Memories of your life flashed before your eyes - the joys from before the apocalypse, eating ice cream at the beach and riding a bike until the sun dipped below the sky. They quickly transitioned to memories where the dead walked - you forced yourself to look beyond the bad, thinking about the day you made a friend under the starry sky, how he confided in you besides a chicken coup, and how he held you so tight when you revealed your moment of weakness.

Glenn was squirming beside you. If he wasn't gagged you knew he would be screaming. You couldn't muster the energy to try to resist. This was it.

You forced yourself to be brave. You didn't want to be weak in front of your friends. You hoped with all of your heart that they would be able to escape this hell and make it burn to the ground. You sat with your back rod straight, staring defiantly at the Termite's lingering around the room. The only indication of your fear was your shaking hands, your thumb seeking that pebble.

You looked at your best friend one last time, feeling the whoosh of the bat.

As more red filled the trough, a pebble, a feather, and a loose page fell to the floor.

the walking dead masterlist

[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[punemy-spotted]

For Blue Skies

Pairing: Ikaris x Desi Muslim!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to FGM/Clitorectomy; Allusions to Child Abuse; Allusions to Scars; Angst; Arguments; Throwing of Glass; Psychology and the Healing of the Inner Child; Some element of Hurt/Comfort

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Word Count: 2k words

Summary: To love a God is no easy thing. To face a God who could not shape a kinder humanity is even harder.

Author’s Notes: When I was five years old, I was subjected to a clitorectomy, a procedure that was a violation of my human rights and bodily autonomy. It has fundamentally changed the way I view my sexuality and challenged my ability to see myself as a person worthy of sexual pleasure and love.

Eternals was a movie that I both loved and hated because of the implication that the Eternals just… sat by and watched human history become what it is, or that they may have actually shaped it into what it is. Knowing the historical origins of FGM and connecting that to some of the story of the Eternals, I had a mini-breakdown and ended up spending weeks writing this to deal with it.

As always, thank you @brandycranby for putting up with me ranting about this.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

In a way, you almost should have known this would happen — just as Icarus himself so loved the freedom of his wings and the warmth of the sun upon them that he flew too close and fell to his death, the act of loving Ikaris has burned you alive, hasn’t it?

Immortality, you know — have known, long before he broke his way into your life — is a curse. He has seen so much, grappled with Gods and Monsters, shaped the very humanity you are afflicted with. How can he see your pain properly, viewed from so high above, so aware of the whole scope of humanity, unbothered by your mundane troubles? Small things to a giant, the rough edges of this unforgiving universe are… nothing.

But you, mortal you, a microscopic blip in the scope of human history, wrapped in the constant daily stressors of your ephemeral life. To see the world through your eyes is to magnify his view a thousandfold and even the smoothest of surfaces are a mountain range of jagged peaks reaching up to the sky when viewed from up close.

To love a God is to know he was never truly yours, no matter how many promises he makes of himself — fealty and fidelity and faith — or how many ways you want to believe him. Never yours, but in the moments your life and his coincide, you are his.

The weight of truth is a heavy, heartless thing, sinking into the bliss of new love slowly, burning away the hazy edge of infatuation to bring about clear realization. A hand of ice and stone emerges from the ocean floor and truth emerges from the well of his mouth to shame you both for having the very audacity to think that you could.

A thousand lives born from every single one lost — it seemed like such a fair exchange at the time, he tells you, barely able to meet the pained betrayal in your gaze. He almost makes it sound so reasonable.

What is the cost of a life, what is worth the weight of all your memories, is it a thousand lives scattered across a thousand different worlds, a consciousness split across many infinite light years? What is the price you would pay to erase all your pain in conjunction with your pleasures, all for the chance to maybe be reborn on a world guided by kinder Gods?

So all of this, all of human progress was … priming us to be cattle, it is not a question, merely a truth, a shameful reality you are forced to face, Then what was I? There. A selfish question — but then again, what are humans but inherently selfish, occupied by their own survival first? What are you too, but a tangle of traumas desperate to be seen as yourself and loved for it all the same.

You… How can he answer that, what answer can he give to that, when the truth cannot be softened, cannot be smoothed over? You would have been my greatest regret to lose.

On television, a reporter speculates aloud on the investigation into the dormant behemoth that might have borne any number of new utopias and before you, the Eternal who once never questioned the cost holds back tears.

It’s a tragedy you failed.

At five, a child’s body does not belong to them, belongs to the elders, the “know-betters” who decide everything from clothes to eventual college education, to “best interests” and good intentions, an object both sacred and unconsecrated, carefully cataloged and sealed away until — like wine — it has aged enough to be known.

And who are the catalogers but kindly doctors and home surgeons, self-taught anesthesiologists with adulterated sherbets and unwanted visits to hospital rooms built in the home, meant for the poking and the prodding, the measuring and marking before the magic is done — just a moment of knifework, easy as that — and the specimen is released into the arms of its anxious owners, finally made pretty and perfect, purified in blood.

If there was a physical recovery for you, you don’t remember, not anymore. Memories fracture with your mind, shattered by the knowing you’ll never stop grappling with, the wondering you’ll never find an end to.

The blame you need to try and place.

Would you have? Regretted it, if the Emergence had actually happened?

You ask it of him days later, days of pretending you aren’t weighing every word of his confession in a thousand different configurations, trying to find one that did not anchor your heart to the slumbering giant at the bottom of the sea.

You ask it of him and all he does is watch you, measuring the weight of your distrust, I would never want to see you hurt.

Oh.

Oh sweet love, you almost tell him, almost throw the glass in your hand at him, almost shatter yourself at his feet, Oh sweet love it is far too late for that.

You bite it back instead, bite back the bile rising in your throat, bite back that scream you wish you could shatter the planet with, You wouldn’t have seen though.

You never do.

He wouldn’t have seen, you charge him, and in doing so you set his hackles to rise, the uneasy truce of your broken heart splitting the chasm between you further and this time he wonders if it’s worth trying to fly, I promised you I would protect you, he reminds, in the sharp admonition of a father insisting his love is Real don’t you see all that I do for you?

You did, you concede. You have to acknowledge it.

The tragedy is, so does he.

It is strange. To be a child and an adult all at once, to watch him and feel all the hurt and betrayal of your present coursing through your five-year-old psyche, the terrified child at the very core of you screaming for answers you promised, you promise, you promised!

Did he know, would he have known, would it ever have been relevant for him, so passionately dedicated to ridding the world of Deviants in their entirety? Wasn’t that enough?

Would it ever be enough?

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t, shouldn’t charge him with the failure to protect you from the crimes committed before he ever knew he would come into your life in the aftermath. How could he have known, have seen, have anticipated the consequences of his indifference when — for so many centuries of his immortal life — he has followed only the design of a God merciful enough to let him pretend to be one on this planet?

You shouldn’t, yet you do.

You do for the sake of the girl you have never stopped comforting, for the woman you could have become, the mourning you have not ceased. He can see it, can’t he? Can see the child at the core of you wondering if she has — once more — placed her trust in the wrong person.

He says your name like an apology, approaches you slowly, watches you burn from the inside out and wonders too if he has — once more — laid waste to the heart of a woman he loves.

The weight of truth is a heavy, heartless thing, sinking into the bliss of new love slowly, burning away the hazy edge of infatuation to bring about clear realization and as the smoke of your denial clears you find yourself facing a man who could have and did not and you wonder if the weight of your resentment is enough to unseat him from your chest, from that space between your ribs where his name beats like a drum, Did you know?

What?

Did. You. Know.

Sweetheart, if I had known I would have—

Don’t call me sweetheart! You have lost the right to any sweetness left in me.

The glass that goes sailing from your hand flies without much coaxing, an act compelled by a girl who knows only that she is angry and in pain, believing ardently that the current target of her ire was at fault for all of it.

He manages to avoid the projectile with infuriating ease, glancing back to eye the shards of your heartbroken psyche, seeing the many injustices of time past reflected back at him in the wreckage and still… walks… closer. I know you’re angry, swee— he cuts himself off his time, hands bare and bloody before you like surrender.

Surrender surrender surrender.

It’s a standoff, shards of you twinkling in the once-comfortable home of your kitchen, his hands unsteady as he wonders how to put you back together without crumbling you to dust. You step back and he steps closer, like he could cage you in. Did you know did you know did you know?

Did he?

To be all-knowing and all-seeing is to know that seeing and noticing are two different things — one does not always take notice of that which one sees, the nose in front of one’s own eyes is edited out by one’s own mind — and the Eternals are neither omnipotent nor omniscient, merely … eternal. And to be eternal is to forget. Forget the mundane terrors of the past, leave the present an unfolding path, and look to what chains drag the future ever closer.

All of this was supposed to end.

To love a God is to know he was never truly yours but what of a God who loves a human? What of knowing the inexorable passage of time will lead to the inevitability of decay, what of immortalizing a memory that too, will one day fade in the mind of a being that has only so much space to remember?

All of this was supposed to end, he tells you, arms wrapped around you, collapse halted but briefly as he tries to justify the unjust.

What is the cost of a life, what is worth the weight of all your memories, is it a thousand lives scattered across a thousand different worlds, a consciousness split across many infinite light years? What is the price he would pay to erase all your pain and all his guilt, all for the chance that somewhere, on a world far away from here, there is a being composed of the same atoms as you who does not know pain or betrayal or him?

Thus, All of this was supposed to end.

You knew.

Knowing is different from doing. We trusted Arishem then, when we were told not to intervene.

Immortality, you know — have known, long before he broke his way into your life and your heart — is a curse. He has seen so much, faced the collapse of his very faith itself, saved the very humanity you are afflicted with. How could he have done anything, when — so aware of the scope of history — he would then have had to do more and how close can a God wander towards Tyrant? Small things to a giant, the rough edges of this unforgiving universe are humanity’s very struggle to survive.

He will see you too, and find fleeting joy in the small things.

Everything was always so fast — there were so many Deviants and still no one could unite to fight them.

So their traditions took a backseat.

They always found a new way to kill each other.

Humanity is a hard thing to love, but humans are soft, are fragile, are reaching for meaning in an unfeeling universe and he… does not love them but loves you, has sworn to love you in the only ways he has learned to, been yours in the only way he has been capable of, is the only home you have ever known and here in the magnified reality of your life, he whispers the words, I’m sorry.

He is. You know he is.

So he says to you, Forgive me.

So. Singed by the fire of his devotion to the larger things beyond, you sink yourself into the hearth of his promise now — fealty, fidelity, faith — and try to believe.

I’ll forgive you.

[7clubs]

i have never thought of franseb before but i've got to say you definitely have my attention now! do elaborate

(CLAPS HANDS TOGETHER) OKAY. THE YUMIMEI AGENDA.

TL;DR: You have two similarly aged youth with so much room to grow, who have a lot in common in terms of family trauma and are mirrors but are simultaneously very different personality-wise, which is SUPER SUPER fun. Similar base appeal here as Fran/maya: silly and serious. Opposites attract, except they're also the same.

Franziska's view of Seb quickly grew from disrespect to seeing them as a mirror of her and perhaps an equal. There is so much opportunity for that to develop into a deep friendship during the 7 year gap, and for them to do a lot of healing together as two who would relate to each other a lot but crucially have different perspectives.

Sebastian is imperfection, is becoming stronger from making mistakes and learning from them. Franziska is perfection, and becoming stronger in realizing it isn't everything.

(Gender stuff and more details under the cut whee)

First of all to get this out of the way. I think most of this part of the fandom agrees that Fran is a huge lesbian and I've hc'd her such pretty much as long as I known I've been into women (2013?) I think this is a big reason why people don't even consider sebfran within the blip of possibility.

It just so happened that a few years ago, before I ever once thought about the parallels between the two of them, before i even had a single thought about them being friends, I started HC'ing seb as a non-binary trans girl. Seb is a magnet for trans HCs, because literally any story about defying your parent's expectations is really really fucking good for that and also they're incredibly Gender.

But I think most people go with transmasc (where they're already presenting as such in canon) which is really understandable and still an epic hc, but I've always found it really compelling for her to realize she's trans after the events of AAI2. Blooming beyond the shadow of her father.

Basically I accidentally put myself into a position where I (big lesbian) could become really, really invested in these two once the dominos fell and I connected the dots. And I did, once I really got into AA again last year, since these two have always been really high up in my favs list and AAI2 is my absolute favorite game. I realized how much they had in common.

(Obviously you don't have to hc Fran as a lesbian and Seb as transfem and you can still ship these two. It's just that I'm a big lesbian and I like weird women in love, so snooty mean girl x ALSO snooty silly girl is a really. really good combination and boosts this ship up for me, especially once you make them sapphics in cool law suits. soooo gnc so true <33)

I THINK if you like Fran/Maya then you're gonna understand a lot of what I like in YumiMei already: they have a lot in common in terms of twisted family histories and expectations, but their actual personalities are VERY different. Which is a really awesome tried and tested recipe for a REALLY GOOD dynamic.

There's a really solid foundation at the end of AAI2 for these two to become amazing friends. Franziska outright makes a comparison to her experiences with MVK with Sebastian's experience with Blaise. She was very impatient and rude to them at first, yes, but quickly realized that they're mirrors.

At the end of AAI2, Franziska establishes the respect she has for Seb by returning care of Roland's trial to them and watching them on. Same with the credits: she knows they'll be tested, just like her.

They're not necessarily at the same stage of their law career, yeah, Seb is a rookie and Franziska is a freak who has been doing this since 13. But I feel that they stand as equals. (That said, yeah, I'm not super comfortable with them getting together until late 7yg and beyond, when Seb's already an established professional and Also, you know, Knows She's A Girl Now.)

Both of them are grieving the fallen images of their fathers. Both of them have felt that there was a time when they had no one else on their side, with Sebastian being disowned and Franziska dealing with both her father's death and her brother's disappearance. Both of them, for a time, struggled wondering whether they should keep doing the work they do. Throwing away the whip, running from the prosecutor's path.

Veering more into headcanon territory; since they're both closely tied to Edgeworth, it's very easy for them to keep in touch after AAI2/during the 7yg. Franziska puts up a facade of being mean and aloof, but she's an inherently caring person and I think she'd look out for Seb. I think from there they could start talking.

I feel like Franziska is a very guarded and emotionally constipated person and she struggles a lot opening up to someone who's known her her whole life, like Edgeworth. (in general, the vk siblings are just Very Bad at being open with eachother.) I think it's important to remember at this point, despite her accomplishments, that she's barely an adult and I think it helps a lot to have someone close to her age as a new friend and peer without all that baggage.

Sebastian on the other hand is someone who just... has their heart on their sleeve. an Open book. emotional and gutsy if they have to be. And in that final logic chess you can see that they understand the importance of listening to someone.

Anyway yeah. they become rant buddies. they talk about their messed up fathers with each other and the complicated relationship they have with the work they've both devoted their lives to and they just get it and are a shoulder to lean on. they develop a rich, deep friendship over the 7yg and teach each other what they know. and this is important to me: yes, Franziska teaches Seb some of the tools of the trade, how to be a better prosecutor, just as a courtesy bc they're friends. but Sebastian also teaches her a lot in turn, about life. About picking yourself up after all your mistakes. I like genuinely think because of more connections and openness, Seb winds up with a bit more emotional maturity. Franziska doesn't need to be perfect in front of them. So they both can be their truer selves.

And that's the main thing really. I think they just become the best of friends. Before romance, before anything else. Seven years of contemplative nights at the office and mutual support. From there, love is just like breathing.