#it's just interesting to me that this fleeting interaction has stood out in my memory. that i had these concepts in mind at that age

[mothric]

this resurfaces in my consciousness every so often and quietly bothers me like a pebble in my shoe, so let me tell you all about a small, formative memory.

I was playing smash bros melee with my two older brothers. the game came out right around my 9th birthday, so I was solidly 9 years old. I picked Luigi, and while waiting for the others to select their characters I idly scrolled through his outfit skins and landed on a pink shirt and cap with bright red overalls. "oh! he's pretty!" I said.

immediately both my brothers sprang at me with "woah! no he's not, he's a boy."

"well, then he's a pretty boy," I said, and they pushed back harder. "boys aren't pretty. don't ever call a boy pretty," they scolded. "the correct word is handsome." and I remember thinking something like, um, I'm looking at a boy right NOW and he IS pretty, so yeah they CAN be, stupid, but I was 9 and impatient and wanted to play viddy game, so I said "okay" and dropped it.

but he was pretty. Luigi was plenty handsome in green and the other palettes, but "handsome" wasn't the right word to me when his outfit made me think of strawberry milk and shortcake. why couldn't he be both? why was "pretty" a bad word only when applied to boys? why couldn't a boy be any descriptive word under the sun? why were we gendering adjectives?

I remember feeling weirdly ashamed in that moment, not because I'd done anything wrong but because the responses of those around me told me that I'd brushed up against some unseen social rule that was not to be touched. I knew, on some level, that the shame didn't come from me, but I couldn't make sense of why it was there at all.

it was such a small, fleeting moment, one that my brothers have probably long since forgotten about, but it's telling that I remember it, and specifically the feeling of wrongness about it that I couldn't articulate but felt in my bones.

at 9 years old I understood gender neutrality, a concept that seemed so simple and straightforward to me it baffled me that my brothers didn't get it. at 9 years old I learned, not that boys can't be pretty, but that grown-ups make up nonsensical rules about words, and about beauty, and about gender, and they get really sensitive about it if you challenge them. at 9 years old I understood boys could be pretty, and not long after I took it a logical step further and realized girls could be handsome, and my little world expanded.

as I grew up I observed men and boys in my life getting hung up over such small things. my brother lost his black umbrella and refused to borrow my pink one. my dad scorned high school boys he observed with painted nails, even though it was the in thing at the time with the influx of emo and scene culture. my partner in college bristled when I told him his eyelashes were the prettiest I'd ever seen. I observed that "man = pretty?" was used as a punchline in shows and movies and laughed about in real life. and I remembered Luigi and his strawberry outfit, and I thought, what a dull and restricted world you have all chosen to live in.

not everyone needs to like to be called pretty, and that's okay. it's important to respect how individuals want to be addressed. but time and again I've observed that the men who bristle most against it seem to live in a rigid world of insecurity and shame. and that stuff isn't inherent. it's learned and taught and reinforced.

Luigi would love to be called pretty. he would love to be called cute and adorable. if you are any shape of man or boy and want to be those things, Luigi supports you. it's all a bunch of silly grown-up rules anyway, so why not have fun and embrace joy?🍓

[dc-and-arfrona]

The Proposal

—-

Nightwing x GN!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 1k+

Masterlist

Summary: You meet at a wedding (I’m going through a meet-cute phase)

—

The grandeur of the wedding venue engulfed me as I stepped into the elegant ballroom. My heart raced with anticipation, a mix of excitement and nostalgia filling the air. Weddings always had a way of evoking a peculiar blend of emotions, reminding me of love's possibilities and the beauty of two souls intertwining.

As I scanned the room, my gaze settled on a figure that stood out amidst the crowd—a person radiating warmth and grace. Their smile was contagious, their eyes sparkling with joy as they interacted with fellow guests. I couldn't help but be drawn to them.

Curiosity propelled me forward, weaving through the sea of well-dressed individuals until I found myself standing beside them. I mustered up the courage to speak, my voice laced with a mixture of intrigue and a touch of charm. "Quite the celebration, isn't it?"

Their eyes met mine, a playful glimmer dancing within. "It truly is. Love seems to be in the air tonight, doesn't it?"

I chuckled, captivated by their effortless charm. "Indeed. It's hard not to be swept up in the romance of it all."

As the night progressed, we found ourselves entwined in conversation—a dance of words and shared laughter. Our connection was undeniable, as if fate had orchestrated our meeting amidst the celebration of two souls coming together.

We explored a myriad of topics, discovering common interests and aspirations. Their passion for life and unwavering authenticity ignited a fire within me, reminding me of the importance of embracing every moment.

As the evening sky transitioned into a star-studded canopy, we sought solace in a quieter corner of the venue. The air crackled with an electricity that only intensified our connection.

With a soft smile, they leaned closer, their voice laced with a hint of playfulness. "You know, Dick, weddings are said to be a breeding ground for love stories. Do you think we might just have our own tale to tell?"

Their words caught me off guard, my heart skipping a beat. In that moment, the truth unfurled like a tapestry before me—I couldn't imagine this night being merely a fleeting encounter.

A spark of something profound ignited within me, and I replied, my voice filled with sincerity. "Perhaps fate has orchestrated our paths to cross tonight. And who am I to deny destiny's call?"

Their eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and delight filling their gaze. "Then let's seize this moment, Dick. Let's create our own love story, one filled with adventures, laughter, and a connection that defies all odds."

In that serendipitous moment, as the music swelled around us and the world faded into a backdrop of celebration, I realized that this wedding had brought me more than just joyful memories. It had bestowed upon me the possibility of a love story—an unexpected chapter waiting to be written.

Together, we embraced the magic of the night, stepping into a dance that would span a lifetime—a dance that began amidst vows exchanged by others but would end with the intertwining of our own hearts.

Years had passed since that serendipitous meeting at the wedding—a meeting that had changed the course of both our lives. The bond between Dick Grayson (Nightwing) and [Y/N] had blossomed, their love enduring the tests of time and adversity. And now, standing on the precipice of a life-changing moment, I found myself reflecting on the memories that had led us here.

As I held the small velvet box in my hand, its weight a testament to the weight of my emotions, I couldn't help but revisit that night—the night we first danced, the night our hearts recognized something special.

With a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I found [Y/N] sitting on our favorite park bench, the golden hues of the sunset casting a warm glow upon them. The gentle breeze played with their hair, and my heart skipped a beat as I approached.

Sitting down beside them, I took a deep breath, the memories of that magical night filling my mind. "Do you remember the first time we met? The night of that wedding?"

[Y/N] turned to me, their eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and affection. "Of course, I remember. It was the night our love story began."

I chuckled softly, the nostalgia washing over me. "That night feels like a lifetime ago, yet it still feels so vivid in my mind. The way you smiled, the way your laughter filled the air—it was as if the world shifted, and I knew I had found something extraordinary."

Their hand found mine, their touch grounding me in the present. "You've brought so much love and joy into my life, Dick. Every day with you feels like a dream come true."

As I gazed into their eyes, I felt a surge of determination. This was the moment—the moment to take that leap of faith and ask the question that had been burning in my heart. With a soft smile, I reached into my pocket, producing the velvet box.

"[Y/N], you are my light, my partner, and my soulmate. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, creating a thousand more memories that will surpass even the magic of that first night. Will you marry me?"

Their eyes widened, tears pooling at the corners as their lips curved into a radiant smile. "Yes, Dick. A thousand times, yes!"

As the sun set behind us, casting a tapestry of colors across the sky, we sealed our commitment with a kiss—a kiss that spoke volumes of the love we had found and the promise of a future intertwined.

In that moment, time stood still, and the memories of our first meeting merged with the present—the love we had discovered in a chance encounter growing into something unbreakable.

As we embarked on the next chapter of our journey, I knew that the memories of that night—the night of our first dance, the night our hearts recognized each other—would forever be etched in our hearts, reminding us of the love story we had crafted together.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Not Interested: Part 2 (Tatum x Denise x Mystery Guy) NSFW

Summary: Three people, two friends and a stranger. And all what they have in common is that they are all broken. Some more than another. He loves the girl he shouldn’t. She was cheated by her scumbag ex-boyfriend and doesn’t need or seek for love. And another guy… he is a mystery. The mystery that will remain just that. And just for the night two will build emotional bonds and another will seek only physical knowing that he cannot give more, knowing that she also knows it. He isn’t interested, but probably two others are…

Words: 3942

Rating: NSFW / MATURE / 18+

Warning: threesome / blowjob / penetration 

A/N: I’m even not sure what it is and if any good. But I just read and re-read… And just hope you will like it. Sorry if it’s terrible or make no sense, I really am sorry and I really hope that it’s make sense and not complete fucking fuck. I’m incredibly nervous to post it as it my first. And I really hope the ending and everything is making sense. Ending maybe rushed, so just let me know if it is rushed :)

Here we go… under the CUT. As I said tagging only who interacted with the Six Sentence Sunday just in case if someone not interested and I just don’t want to assume as this definitely isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

For Tatum, the ride to the hotel passed in a blur. He looked through the fogged window, trying to ignore the insistent throbbing between his legs, while the couple next to him was engrossed in the passionate kiss.

He was so deep in his thoughts, trying to ignore what he knew he needed, that his body jerked, when he felt a soft warm hand creeping up his thigh. Trying now even harder to concentrate his whole attention on the city lights passing by the window and ignore the feeling that got brought by that small hand so close to his hard and throbbing cock. Counting from 10 to 0 in hope that after the moment it will pass, if only he would be able to concentrate on anything else but the feeling of her warm hand inching closer to his denim-covered shaft.

Involuntary groan leaving his throat, when the tips of her fingers accidentally... or not so... fluttered over his protruding bulge. His breath hitched and his heart skipped a treacherous beat, swallowing hard when her hand ran over him again. The fleeting weak thought passing in his mind:

I’m not interested. I’m not interested. I’m not interested.

Before that thought finally got overpowered by another, more stronger thought. The thought that came suddenly. The thought he didn't expect to have, but knowing exactly where it came from.

I need it. I need it. I need it.

God, it has already been six months since the last time he had anyone. Six freaking months since he needed that so desperately, and the temptation was too big to be able to ignore it now.

The memory of almond shaped chocolate eyes emerging from the back of his mind and he is ready to do anything to push it back. He needs to do anything to push it back, to make sure that when he will see her again... when assignment will start, he will not spiral into the darkness and he will be able to do his job, to keep her safe, to make everything that it would take to keep her safe. And not to let his feelings interfere with her safety, not let it compromise her.

He knew that he still wasn’t interested; he tried to remind himself this every time he felt her gentle fleeting caresses against his inner thigh but by the time her hand subtly worked it’s way up he wasn’t as sure anymore. Trying to suppress a moan ready to rip from his throat.

He wasn’t that type of guy... he wasn’t one night stand type of guy, at least usually... and even less so whatever that was or wherever this was going. But he was hollow... depressed and he needed distraction... he needed someone who would take care of him, making him feel good... someone who will not ask for anything in return. He needed something what he knew will be just for tonight.

However he still tried to protest when she walked them up to her suite. Following numbly after her. Too aroused to think straight and too deep in his thoughts to utter anything else but the weak protest that got caught in his throat even before she pushed him lightly to the edge of the bed.

“Deni... don't...,” he murmured breathlessly, quietly. More than a plea, less than a protest.

His mind fogged and his heart beating out of his chest, while his blood pounded in his ears deafeningly loud. Her fingers worked on his belt, ignoring his words, knowing better than him what he needed, blindly dragging the zipper of his jeans down. Her lips locked with the other’s guy’s in a sloppy messy kiss, igniting the fire between them.

And somewhere in the back of his mind the thought occurred. That this is what he wanted some day... the fire... the passion... the something more than the numb act he even wasn’t sure he wanted... but needed it. 

But for today... for this night only he didn’t mind that this wasn't about him or intimacy. He was thankful to her for not trying to make it intimate. Thankful that she didn't try to kiss him knowing exactly what he needed. Knowing that he cannot give her nothing else but physical.

He heard another guy’s low raspy groan tearing through the darkness, when her hand cupped him through the thin material of his jeans before dragging the zipper down and pushing them to the ground together with his boxers. Making the other guy curse, when her hand wrapped around his thick long cock squeezing him firmly, but before she could sink to her knees he stopped her, removing her hand from him and turning her around bending her slightly toward the bed.

Gently Blaine ran his hand along her spine, while another was splayed across her waist. His fingertips outlining the path of the zipper from her waist to the bottom of her slender neck brushing her long brown hair to the side, letting them brush softly over Tatum’s erection, making him close his eyes on exhale and curse quietly.

What I’m even doing here? He thought feeling how his breath picked up the speed, coming out in short puffs when he felt her sole finger run gently from the base of his length and to the tip, circling around it tantalisingly slowly, feeling how the warm drop of pre-cum gathered in its slit. Feeling, how the multitude of goosebumps erupted across his skin.

He wasn’t interested; he tried to repeat, knowing that this still was true, but his body stubbornly told a different story, while Blaine’s hand finally found the pull tab of Denise’s dress sliding it down to her waist, making her black sparkling dress to drop at her feet.

And all of a sudden he couldn’t lie to himself… his dick jerked with need as if confirming his hazy thought that occurred at the back of his head, when his clouded gaze landed on her bare body clad only in a black lace thongs with the matching garter on her right leg and the black stockings to the mid of her thigh, watching her bit on her bottom lip looking at him with the matching need. 

Yeah... he was interested, but he also knew that another part... the one that should have mattered the most was still not interested. And it will never be. And he also knew that she didn’t need it. Too hurt herself, to be interested in anything else but what has been offered.

Blaine stood closer to her. His hands leisurely trailed down her body, mapping it, memorising it. Every curve, every dip, every freckle and mark. So beautiful, so soft, so breathtaking. 

His fingertips barely touching. Grazing over the undersides of her breasts, making her sigh and purr. Her back arching as if begging him for more, while her hand stroked slowly Tatum’s length, making him sigh and moan in pleasure; from the pace she set and from the way she did it. 

Blaine’s eyes darkened, just for a split second before pushing the frown forming on his face back. He needed distraction, some fun before all the hell breaks free and the circus begins, and he knew that some stranger picked up in the bar will be just that. The fun he needed, the distraction he had looked for. Nothing else, no more no less than that… and what the difference it makes if there is another guy. None, he wasn’t interested in anything else. Right?

The whiff of lavender emanating from her body and hair is intoxicating and Blaine inhales it sharper, feeling how his head started to spin lightly from the scent of her. He smiled against her shoulder, trailing wet mouth-opened kisses along her slender neck as he thrust forward, his erection rubbing against her. She whimpered softly, and he cupped her breasts firmly, tweaking her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Relishing in the sounds she made, while she turned her head to a side letting his mouth to capture hers in a hot sizzling kiss.

He groaned, when her hand reached behind her back, grabbing his stiff throbbing length, stroking him lightly with the same rhythm and longitude as Tatum. Their lips meeting locking in a frenzied kiss. Their tongues sliding against each other. And her body was leaning into his. Blaine’s hand ran to her pussy with purpose, dipping beneath the waistband of her panties, brushing his thumb over her clit with a little bit pressure, while his finger dipped inside her feeling how soaking wet she was.

The thought of if that was for him or that other guy or even both flashed in his mind, but he decidedly pushed it away. He wasn’t her boyfriend, and he wasn’t interested in becoming one… He thought, missing the way how his heart squeezed, skipping a beat, when his eyes met her eyes in the full length mirror behind the bed.

This was only for fun. Thought he. Incognito sex... no names, at least not his... no obligation... no future... nothing what some usual guy would want. As he wasn't just some guy, and he wouldn't want to drag anyone else in the mess of his family.

Blaine’s kisses became deeper and rougher while his eyes locked with hers through the mirror. The thought that he never seen anything more pornographic in his whole life strikes him, but he chased it away, instead focusing on the feel of her tongue against his. On her sweet intoxicating maddening scent. On her hand moving languidly over his length and on the desire that was now burning with a force of inferno inside him.

He could hear Tatum’s raspy voice breaking through the pounding of his blood roaring in his ears, trying to stop her... saying that it’s okay... she shouldn’t. But the protest is so weak, that he found it hard to believe. The same thought arises in his mind... same doubts, same hesitation and he almost says the same. But the thought is so weak, that he doesn't want to lie and he knows that he needs it. Knows that he wants her so instead another question leaving his lips, joined by the same question from her friend, just a single moan later. “Are you sure that this is what you want?” their husky breaking voices mixed in breathless pants, while his fingers moving inside her with purpose, waiting for her reply.

“Yes...,” she moaned, when Blaine’s fingers curled inside her in a come here motion, making her body shiver with desire. “Oh, my God yes, please,” she gasped, while her hands ran along their hard lengths, stroking them.

“God, you are beautiful,” murmured Blaine against Denise’s neck. His words sent a rush of heat, colouring her cheeks.

His breath hot and heavy fanning against her skin and she threw her head back, letting his lips graze against it. His hand moving from the back of her head to the small of her back before finally insistently bending her toward the bed... toward another guy. Making it feel like a decision finaly was made, making her let go of his aching length and stop just a few inches shy from Tatum’s swollen and aching tip. 

His hands almost ripping her panties out of the way, dragging them urgently down her legs before picking up his jeans and taking the condom out of his wallet. So impatient... so willing... The sound of ripped foil breaking through the air filled with panting and moaning. But even in that moment Tatum managed to think with relief that at least he thought of that... and this is the last thought he could register with his fogged mind as the second later his mind goes totally blank, when Denise bends even lower, swirling the tip of her tongue over his shaft.

Tatum’s eyes focused on her, watching how she started to work on his length, bobbing her head with calculated movements. Just right... just enough for him to feel good, but not enough for him to finish too quickly. 

Shit… he thought with a raspy groan leaving his lips. It was already six month… Six fucking months of a dry spell… not that he really cared or needed it… He wasn’t one of this guys who couldn’t live without some fucking, but even he had his limits. And six months seems to be his… or was it because of the dark haired girl, who he caught a glimpse of just this morning? He thought, but the deep rumble erupting from Denise’s throat, tore him out of his thoughts, sending a pleasant sensation to his spine, making him groan involuntarily in pleasure.

It was good, and he couldn’t deny it even if he would try. He was a man after all, made from flesh and blood, and not from steel. But he still wasn’t interested. And he felt shame coursing through him... and guilt for using his friend and for loving another.

His eyes half hooded, still feeling a tingling of shame at the back of his mind, and his imagination playing trick on him, when he focused his gaze on her. Desperately trying to chase away the image of anothers almond shaped eyes floating before his eyes, until a deep groan didn’t snap him back to reality.

Denise’s eyes now opened and fixed on his, while she kneeled on the bed between his legs taking him deep inside her mouth. His hand losing in her soft dark hair guiding her, while Blaine’s hands gripped her hips, pushing slowly inside her. Feeling how her body tensed and his own movements halted, leaning closer to her. 

“Hey… if you are not sure about that, just tell me and I’ll stop,” he groaned in a husky voice, brushing her hair softly aside, not moving even an inch, waiting for her reply with a bated breath.

But she stubbornly shook her head moaning her consent, and it was all the answer he needed. Slowly he pushed in, feeling how his heart started to beat quicker. Blaine’s fingers flexed on her hips, and Tatum felt rather than heard how she gasped taking him even deeper.

Blaine could feel how her body tightened around him, taking his full length inside her. Momentarily stopping to give her a few moments to get used to his size before starting to move. His body meeting hers while his hands rested on her hips helping her to move with his body, setting a steady pace between them.

His body surging forward thrusting deep inside her as if not able to control the pace he set for them just a moment ago. Feeling how every single thought he had evaporated with each thrust he made. His lips grazed her soft skin. Leaving the open-mouth kisses over her back. Groaning and panting from how soft and warm she felt, and how tight she was. Thrusting faster and faster inside her, feeling how her body tensed. His fingers digging inside her hips, doubling the efforts, setting almost neck breaking speed for his thrusts. The one she could barely keep up with as if somehow subconsciously trying to overrun his own demons. Chasing them away, when his eyes met hers in the mirror and the same look of her own darkness clashing with his made the time freeze.

She could feel how the tight spring inside her abdomen coiled tighter and tighter with every thrust inside her. Knowing that she had only got seconds before she will be pushed over the edge.

Her heart was pounding so hard that it seemed it would break out of her chest, while her lips continued to work Tatum’s length. Racing now for his pleasure as much as for her own. Her hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, pumping him as she sucked in a steady but frantic pace. His hips jerked as his moans grew louder, and she knew by the way his breath hitched every time she slid her lips over his sensitive tip that he was close... so close.

She swirled her tongue around his head, suckling on him as she groaned. Knowing that he could feel how her groan will reverberate through him and it will be enough to send him over the edge. And that was it. She could see how he froze, groaning out the muffled name she couldn’t quite catch, but instead to thrust his hips deeper and finish he gently pushed her away, wrapping his hand around his shaft and finishing in his palm with a desperate groan. Watching how the sperm was sipping through his fingers with the dazed expression on his face still breathing heavily, feeling how the fog that was clouding his mind slowly started to dissipate, leaving the shameful guilt as an aftermath of his need.

But Denise didn’t notice all that, feeling how the blood in her ears roared, muffling every other sound around her. Her vision went almost white and she focused on her own hands in front of her, not letting the reality slip out of her reach... out of her control. The pleasure was right there, so close enough that she almost could taste it swirling in the air, rushing at her with a speed of a wrecked train.

Knowing that no one, even her ex-boyfriend made her feel as good as the guy she just met. Making her feel alive, alighting her every nerve on fire, chasing her demons away.

It felt good... better than good until his movements suddenly halted in uncertainty before she felt his hand around her waist tugging her up gently, making her breath hitch.

Her back pressing firmly against his chest, feeling every thundering of his heart beat, every trembling of his muscles while he held her close to him, still moving inside her. His other hand cupped her face, turning it to face him and for the first time since the taxi ride their eyes met directly, not through the cold mirror’s surface, and the electricity of their darkened eyes meeting shot through them, making them breathless. His lips capturing hers quickly... urgently, making the fire between them ignite anew. Feeling how the spring started to coil tighter inside her again making her gasp for an air before hearing his soft murmur against her lips... between their kisses.

“Come for me...” and his husky low voice followed by the deep hard thrust was enough for the tightened spring to pop free, and for the release to wash over her. Feeling how wave after wave of the warm overpowering feeling knocked into her. Making her scream and whimper from pleasure against his lips.

Blaine could feel how she tightened around him, fluttering around his length. His heart beat so fast that it seemed that it would not withstand the race, but he still moved faster and faster inside her, thrusting deeper and deeper into her warmth. Soft gentle sounds of encouragement leaving his lips, while he gently cupped her face in his hand, watching her come.

His muscles tense, when her hot pussy clamped around his shaft triggering his own much needed release, finally sending him into a whirlwind of pleasure. Feeling the intensity of it knocking the air out of him and leaving him breathless. 

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

It was only a few hours after Tatum’s body shook with an orgasm followed by two other muffled screams in the darkness. Only two hours till Denise’s plane would take off till the next time he would see her again. And only a few minutes since the moment Tatum forced his eyes open from uneasy dreams he had fallen into. His body shifted, seated on the edge of the sofa, where he moved straight after the guilt and shame for what he allowed to happen hit him with all force. Leaving two other spent bodies peacefully asleep on the bed, curled against each other. Legs and hands intertwined.

He was already dressed so he made a cup of coffee and a breakfast for Denise, before sneaking toward the bed to gently shake her from her sleep. Watching how she blinked in confusion, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“You have left only a couple of hours till your plane,” explained Tatum, nodding toward the small table next to the sofa before moving back to the small kitchen area. “Eat. We need to move soon,” he said in a voice gruffer then intended, not able to meet her eyes. The shame and guilt still ate at him for what had happened only a few hours ago, knowing that he shouldn’t have allowed for that to happen. Watching how she lowered her doe-like eyes before quickly dressing up and seating on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Tatum asked, clearing his throat after Denise had finished her breakfast throwing a single glance in her direction. Watching, her curled on the sofa with notepad on her lap and a pen in her hand. She was wearing black leggings and a white tunic top, her hair brushed up in a high ponytail and not a single sign of a make up, while she chewed on the end of her pen thoughtfully.

“Writing Chris a note,” she simply replied. “Saying goodbye.”

“He would have survived without one,” grumbled Tatum, throwing a quick glance at the guy who was still deep in his sleep.

“Tatum... please seat,” Denise said, patting a place next to her, making him sigh in defeat and sit silently. “I’m sorry... for screwing up our friendship and probably yours and Damien’s,” she said finally after a moment of silence. “And I’m sorry for not listening to you. But you needed that as much if not more than I did. And something in him...,” she started before her voice trailed off and she just shrugged her shoulders as if indicating... you know, broken like us. After a few more moments of silence, she placed the pen on the table, standing up and extending her hand toward Tatum.

“Let’s go,” she whispered softly, taking Tatum’s hand who took it after a beat, squeezing it gently. Her eyes lingered for a little bit longer on the guy's naked form on a bed before she left a note on the bedside table, and left the room followed by Tatum.

------------------------ 

It was a few weeks after Denise landed in the USA, leaving Rutherland and the last night behind. The first day of his assignment to Claire, the girl who he still loved. The truth that wasn’t so easy to admit, but he finally found the courage to do so, after all the mistakes he made. But he probably needed to make them, to finally admit the truth. He never was over Claire and he never will be. Denise’s last words still echoed in his mind. “Don’t suppress your feelings, face them.”

And he knew now that it was exactly what he needed, to finally be able to face Claire without spiralling deeper into the darkness, without making mistakes he would later regret.

He was furiously pacing outside the Dean’s office after the paparazzi trespassed the Vancross campus grounds chasing Claire and Princess Dionne for some juicy pictures, when the door flew open. And the guy stepped outside with that familiar smirk on his face. His eyes meeting Tatum’s and the world suddenly stopped. Tatum’s eyes widened and he finally knew... finally managed to place the face to the name, feeling how the blood drained from his face, suddenly speechless, when Blaine Hayes... the First Son of Ardona stood in front of him with the same shock on his face.

Tagging: @choices-bound​ @starrystarrytrouble​ @mercury84choices​ @lahelasaveiro​ @k2624​ @thefrenchiemama​ 

[prince-septimus]

hard-hitting

pairing : jack thompson x SSR agent!reader

summary : 3 times jack punches someone because of you, and the one time you punch someone because of him

word count : 2.6k

You rubbed at your eyes, trying to wipe away the sleepiness you were beginning to feel. It was late. You, Agent Thompson, and Agent Sousa had to be the only ones left in the building. You weren’t sure where Peggy had run off to tonight.

You had been at this for what felt like hours. Jack was sure this guy had some information on Howard and with you being one of the best interrogators, Chief Dooley had put you on the job. You were beginning to feel the fatigue set in, though, and you hadn’t gotten much out of this man except that he liked to flirt.

“Do you want to take another break?”

You looked up at the two men in front of you. You had stepped out of the room for a moment to grab some water and try to wake yourself up a bit. It was Daniel who had asked you the question, his eyes filled with genuine concern. Jack just stood, leaning against the table with his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the man you had been interrogating through the two-way mirror. His foot was tapping quickly, revealing his impatience.

“No, no. No more breaks.” You let out a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself to go back in there. You didn’t like this man, and considering he hadn’t said anything so far, you thought either he knew nothing, or he was never going to say. “You sure he knows something, Thompson?”

Jack’s eyes flicked towards you. He looked just as tired as you felt with his blond hair falling onto his forehead. “He has to. His name was all over those reports.”

You just nodded and turned to head back in the room.

When you saw the man’s smirk, you wanted to hit him. That wasn’t your style of interrogation, though, and if Chief Dooley had wanted someone to beat the information out of this man he would’ve sent Jack in instead.

“Needed a break, sweetheart?”

“You know, we could end this now if you’d just give up your buddy.” You assumed Jack’s previous position of leaning with arms crossed. You so badly wanted this interrogation to be over so that you could go home and get some well-deserved sleep.

“I told you, I don’t know anything about Stark.” He shrugged before leaning back in his chair, using the length of the hand cuff chains to his advantage as he placed his hands on the back of his head. “Haven’t talked to him in a couple years at least.”

“We know that’s a lie, so I don’t know why you keep pushing that narrative.” You motioned to the files you had left sitting on the table at the very beginning of the interrogation. “Your name shows up quite a few times showing that you’ve interacted with Howard Stark within at least the past 6 months.”

The man didn’t say anything.

You sighed. “You know that if you help us with our investigation, we can help you out with some of those misdemeanors you have piled up.”

Still nothing.

You reached up to pinch the bridge of your nose for a second before moving forward and slamming your hands down on the table. You felt your palms sting slightly as they made contact with the rough surface. “You have information on Howard Stark. Valuable information. Maybe you can just give it to us and we can stop playing games here.”

The man brought his hands back down and leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe I like playing games with a pretty thing like you.”

“The information. Now.”

“You know, maybe if you give me a kiss, I’d think about offering up what I know.”

You hadn’t noticed when Jack had entered the room, but there he was, his fist making contact with the man’s face. It knocked the man’s chair back, causing him to fall to the ground though his hands were still cuffed to the table.

Daniel appeared in the doorway. “I couldn’t stop him.”

“Jack,” you tried to berate your coworker, but frankly, you were too tired. Instead you reached out and tugged on his shirt sleeve, encouraging him to step away from the man who was now trying to stifle the blood dripping from his nose.

“You hit me!”

Jack made to step towards the man again, but you kept a firm hold on his sleeve. “I’ll do it again if you don’t tell us what you know.”

“Jack.”

“Fine.” The man made to stand, spitting out a bit of blood. “I’ll tell you.”

You let out a deep sigh and looked back at Daniel, giving a small smile in victory.

 -

Chief Dooley was dead.

You hadn’t quite realized how much that would affect you until it had happened. It had hit you hard, and now, hours after it had happened, you were still shaking, and your eyes were rimmed red.

“It’s really something, ain’t it, Agent?”

You looked up from the paperwork laid out across your desk to see one of the other agents, one whose name escaped you now. He was smirking at you. “What?”

You voice was rough after the events of the day, and this agent seemed to find some joy in that. “Oh, you know, now we won’t have to worry about the Chief picking favorites.”

You stood from your chair then, coming face to face with the man who simply grinned at you. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He motioned to the room, where everyone had been mourning in their own way, everyone other than this man, of course. “We all know Dooley favored you over everyone, even Thompson.”

“How dare you.”

“Roberts.”

It was Jack who had said the agent’s name. ‘Roberts’ seemed to lose all his courage at the sound of his new Chief’s booming voice calling his name.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Roberts looked like he would rather be anywhere else. “Just giving this agent some advice.”

“Like hell you were,” you fired back, but Jack reached out a hand to place on your shoulder, squeezing slightly.

“I got it.”

You were about to turn to look at Jack and question what he was about to do, but you didn’t get the chance before he surged forward and punched Roberts, sending him flying back.

Your mouth fell open, but no noise came out. When you turned to Jack, he simply gave you a nod before turning around and marching back to his office.

-

You struggled to hold back Jack.

Tonight had been another long one, and the two of you were meant to go out to a local bar to find a suspect.

It hadn’t ended well.

“Jack, come on, let’s get out of here.” You had a hand on his chest, attempting to push him back, but he held strong.

“Come on, I can take him.”

You gave a hard shove to his shoulders, pushing him towards the door. “Not all of them you can’t.”

Work had been hard lately. Jack now had all the responsibilities of Chief and it had clearly taken a toll on him. He had been more hostile, even to you.

“Jack, please.”

“Oh, you need your girl to hold you back, Thompson.”

You might’ve purposely loosened your grip on Jack. He took the opportunity to push forward and get a well-aimed punch in on the man.

You tried to hide your smile as you pulled Jack out of the crowded bar.

-

“I always feel uncomfortable during these types of things.”

Jack glanced sideways at you, his champagne flute held halfway to his lips. “You don’t like dressing up and roaming around a ballroom, talking to rich people about how rich they are for two hours?”

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “Not when I could be at home sleeping, or at the office catching up on paperwork.”

“Am I that bad of date to spend time with?”

Your eyebrows shot up and Jack gave you a smile.

There was something different about you and Jack lately. Nothing major had changed. Work was still the same, and you still spent most of your time working rather than taking time for yourself, but there was something that had changed between you and Jack.

There were more excuses to talk to each other. More fleeting touches between the two of you – pats on shoulders after a successful mission or a hand on the arm in order to get each other’s attention. It had taken a while to realize, too, how much you had begun to enjoy being around Jack Thompson.

You were aware of all this now as Jack put a hand on the small of your back, pushing lightly to lead you forward.

“There’s our target.”

You followed Jack’s line of sight and spotted the person the two of you were after. “Wow,” you breathed out, “she’s gorgeous.”

She was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, besides Peggy of course.

You missed the way Jack looked at you then.

“Let’s go get her then.”

Jack nodded, placing his still half-full drink onto a waiter’s tray as they passed. “Do you remember the plan?”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks at the memory of what the two of you had planned to do in order to get this woman alone so that you could figure out what she knew.

You and Jack were to poise as a married couple, one who had an interest in this woman and were planning to drag her off to a corner for a good time. You weren’t sure who had discovered this woman’s desire for nights spent with married couples, but Jack decided it was a good way to get her alone without seeming suspicious.

When the two of you finally reached the beautiful woman, she smiled at you in a way that you knew meant something more than a greeting.

You swallowed hard.

“Miss Chekov,” Jack spoke smoothly. He had clearly turned the charm on. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Please call me Mia.” Her accent wasn’t as thick as you had expected, probably from all her time spent working on American film sets where directors encouraged the use of a fake accent. “And who are you, might I ask?”

“Jack Thompson,” Jack stated clearly, taking Mia’s hand when she held it out and placing a kiss on her fingers, never breaking eye contact with her. “And this is my partner,” he added on when he straightened up, his arm looping around your waist. “We’re married.”

Something in Mia’s appearance opened up then. She looked at you with an overly sweet smile. “Really?”

“We were wondering if we could go somewhere to talk?” you finally spoke up, returning the smile. “You know, privately.”

“Well, of course. I know the perfect place.”

You were wondering what you had gotten yourself into when you found yourself shoved up in a corner in an abandoned hallway, Mia’s lips attached to your neck. You were glad your appearance wouldn’t matter any longer since you knew her lipstick would be smeared all over your skin.

“You have gorgeous body,” Mia mumbled, pulling back to give you a lust-filled look. “Maybe you should kiss your husband. He’s looking truly lonely over there.”

You looked over her shoulder to meet Jack’s gaze. You weren’t surprised to find that he had gone tense, but you needed him to continue playing the part. You needed Mia to feel relaxed enough before you threw the truth out there. “Jack, dear? Don’t you want to play?”

Maybe it was because he knew he needed to continue on with his plan, maybe it was the way your voice sounded so sweet and melted into him, but Jack took the few steps forward to meet the two of you and kissed you with so much passion you gasped into his mouth.

Jack didn’t let up. His hand found your waist, squeezing lightly as he deepened the kiss. If this weren’t a mission and the two of you weren’t playing the part of a married couple, you’d think this kiss held some meaning behind it.

Mia put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, pushing slightly. “Alright, you don’t get to have all the fun here.”

“Neither do you,” Jack said simply. You knew he meant it for Mia, but he hadn’t looked away from you yet. You wished he’d look at you that way any other time besides this moment, right here.

Finally, he turned to Mia. “We need you to tell us everything you know about what the Russians are planning.”

“What?” Mia took a step back, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of you. “Who are you? FBI?”

Jack smiled. “SSR.” He used the hand still on your waist to pull you off the wall and steady you on your feet.

“Agents?” She gave a sigh and a flick of her hair. “How disgusting. So, are the two of you even married?”

“That’s none of your concern, Miss Chekov,” you explained, feeling a little dizzy from Jack’s kiss. You tried not to let it show. “Now, if you could come with us—”

“I’m not going anywhere with the two of you.”

When Mia turned on her heel, attempting to walk away from the two of you, Jack reached out to grab at her arm.

“Miss Chekov—”

There was a loud smack and you couldn’t stop the little gasp that escaped your mouth.

Jack was holding the side of his face where Mia had just slapped him. He was clearly stunned, and without thinking about what you were doing you marched forward and punched Mia, knocking her to the ground.

"Shit,” you breathed out, flexing your hand and gasping at the pain you felt. You hadn’t been prepared to throw that punch, and your already bruising knuckles were proof of that.

“Did you just throw a punch for me?” Jack appeared next to you, reaching for your hand. You flinched as he opened it, carefully running his fingertips across your knuckles. “We’ll have to put some ice on it.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you nodded your head at Mia, who lay on the ground grasping her face. She seemed dazed. “Let’s get her and go before someone comes back here.”

After the punch, Mia seemed more complicit. She caused no more trouble and left with the two of you easily. The rest of the night was calm, and you were left to ice your hand and write out a report as Jack did his thing with interrogation.

When he returned, it was late. He had removed his suit jacket and sat with his sleeves rolled up. You headed for his office with your report, knocking on his already open door and giving him a smile.

“Get everything you needed out of her?”

“As much as I could.” Jack leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. “How’s your hand?”

You scoffed. “How’s your face?”

“You threw a nasty punch back there.”

“Ah, anything for my friends.” You walked up to the front of Jack’s desk and threw the paperwork for your mission down before flexing your hand for him. “It’ll be fine. Nothing’s broken.”

Jack leaned forward with his elbows on the desk as he looked up at you. “Friends, eh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that not what we are, Chief?”

“I don’t think friends kiss each other like that, Agent.”

You felt your breath catch. “That was for the mission.”

“Perhaps.” Jack ran a hand through his hair, messing up the neatness of it. “But are you sure it meant nothing?”

You were at a loss for words but decided that being honest was the best way to go about this. “I will admit, I don’t regret that kiss.”

“And?”

Your lips pulled up in a smile. “And maybe I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

[221bshrlocked]

thought you were mine (1)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (ABO Dynamics)

Words: 4921 (not even mad about it)

Warnings: Smuuuut. Pining. Some form of angst. Really dirty dirty talk.

Summary: Your heat arrives unexpectedly and Natasha isn’t around to help you like she usually does. What happens when another alpha gets a whiff of your scent and some lines are crossed?

A/N: I know I have been away for so long and I am really sorry. I don’t know why I have no motivation but I promise I’m trying. I decided to just write whatever comes to mind even if it is shitty just so I get the crap writing out of my system and then I could get to the good writing again. There will be either one more part or two more parts.

You tapped out for god knows what time in the last ten minutes, shaking your head at Natasha when she stood up with a grin and helped you off the ground. She tried to tell you how she got the upper hand this time, but you brushed her away, wobbling to your drink before sinking to the ground and drowning in the cold liquid.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re distracted.” She snatched the towel from your hand before sitting next to you, dabbing her neck and reaching for her own drink.

“You don’t know better then.” You growled back, turning away from her immediately when you saw her raise an eyebrow at you.

“Careful omega, or we’ll give those agents something to talk about.” She smiled at you before taking in your facial expressions, grunting when you looked to the ground and ducked your head to the side, silently giving her your submission before struggling to stand up. She followed suit and patted you on your shoulder, turning to the other end of the gym when she saw where your attention was focused.

“Why am I not surprised?” She whispered before taking her things and walking towards the group of alphas and grinning when one of them left almost immediately.

“What’s wrong with him?” Natasha pointed at Bucky, maintaining eye contact with him until he went back to his weights.

“You know very well why he’s avoiding you.” Steve whispered right back, shaking his head when Sam raised his hands as soon as Natasha crossed her arms at the tone. “Come on you know she’s not my type Steve.”

“I know that, and Sam knows it, and pretty much everyone in this compound knows that! But you somehow, randomly, always find a way to have her submit to you in front of him and let’s be honest, that’s not something you’d want to see from the omega you’ve set your eyes on in, literally, decades.” Steve angrily stuffed his jacket and water bottle in his duffle bag before wrapping it around his arm.

“Who said I’m doing this randomly?” Natasha chuckled when Sam left, muttering something about not wanting to know what the plan was. Steve, on the other hand, swore under his breath, catching onto what Natasha had in mind. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing Romanoff, and I’m not sure Bucky will like it.”

“He’s obviously too thick-headed to do anything so I’m just giving him the little push he needs. Besides, they’ll thank me later.”

“Don’t get involved Nat.” Steve puffed out his chest, his blood boiling at hearing someone talk about Bucky in such a way. But it was a big mistake to do that in front of subordinates, his nose flaring when the smell of fear clouded his judgment.

“Mind your own fucking business Rogers.” Natasha growled right back, turning around quickly when she heard you running and grabbing her arms to try and pull her away from Steve. She could also smell the hint of fear in the air and took your hands right away, rubbing your wrist slowly and telling you that her and Steve were just getting a little carried away.

“Calm down love, it’s fine.” She wrapped her arm around your neck and pulled you in, nudging your scent gland softly before laughing and turning away. You slowly began to calm down, telling her it was best the two of you leave because you felt light-headed from all the angry pheromones pumping through the air.

She led you out of the gym, turning around just in time to see a very red-faced super soldier throwing imaginary knives at her. She could tell he was about to go into rut and hoped you weren’t able to smell him. You, on the other hand, could definitely smell his scent. It was so much stronger than before and you thought he might start his rut soon but that shouldn’t have been possible. Tony and Bruce had him on strong scent blockers so technically, you shouldn’t have been able to smell that minty scent you’ve grown so fond of in the last few months. But here you were, breathing the sweet aroma as much as you can until you realized it was making you dizzy. A dull strike of pain shot through your stomach and you blamed the alphas almost fighting for it. You needed to leave the gym as soon as possible and the opportunity presented itself on a silver platter when you saw Natasha and Steve arguing.

While Nat was talking to Sam and Steve, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Bucky, watching him almost lift the entire fucking machine off the ground. Something had made him angry and you wished you could run to him and soothe the pain away, finding it heart-wrenching that your alpha needed to be taken care of and you couldn’t do it. Your mouth watered when you saw his jaws clenching, sweat forming on his forehead & neck and rolling down his shirt. Then he noticed you were staring at him and dropped the weights aggressively, turning around to avoid looking at you because had he maintained eye contact, he would have lost it and pulled you away from everyone. 

Wait, since when was he your alpha?

You brushed the thought aside when Natasha told you she’ll go shower so the two of you could walk around for a bit.

Bucky almost broke the wall when he saw Natasha nuzzling your neck. He wasn’t sure when the two of you started getting this close but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. And the fact that you didn’t tell her to stop angered him even more. She could’ve easily calmed you down without getting this personal! As soon as you walked out, Bucky was able to breathe again. He was barely keeping himself together, the smell of iris flowers flooding his brain and making him go crazy. For some odd reason, it was even sweeter when you were at the gym. Maybe it’s because you were sparring with Natasha but that shouldn’t do it. He knew everyone was on scent blockers most of the time. Then again, his sense of smell was heightened when he received the serum. Whatever caused him to be able to smell your scent this strongly drove him mad with lust and anger, and he knew one more interaction with you today and he would be pushed over the edge. So he decided to return to his room and stay there until he made sure he was in the right mind to have a conversation with anyone without wanting to rip their heads off.

Bucky left the gym abruptly, his mind replaying the way your eyes roamed over him as he worked out. But he was imagining it right? Because there was no way you’d be checking him out. You never gave any indication of your interest. Actually, you never even conversed with him for a long period of time outside missions. His rut must’ve made him misunderstand signals. But you smelled so fucking good.

When he realized his nerves wouldn’t calm down for the rest of the day, he stayed inside, going as far as ignoring Steve when he came around to ask him if he wanted anything before he left for an urgent mission.

It was hours later when you woke up after your walk with Natasha. She was doing a hell of a job keeping you calm and collected when Steve called and said there was a mission. You whined and felt horrible but still told her to go. She could smell the lies on you when you told her everything would be fine. It’s not like this was your first heat or anything.

Kicking the covers away from you, you struggled out of bed into your kitchen, grabbing as many cold water bottles as you could before returning to your bed. You asked Friday to turn down the temperature in hopes that the chill air would help but it was only a matter of time before things took a turn for the worse.

A fleeting thought invaded your mind and you brushed it aside quickly, refusing to dwell on it because knowing the state of incoherency you would soon be in, the decision would not be in your favor.

Three floors down, Bucky was pacing back and forth, metal arm whirring and making him angrier because he needed some quiet, but he would never receive it. He kept on thinking back to the morning interaction with you and Natasha, his blood boiling when the image of you nuzzling in her neck was brought back over and over again. He growled at the memory, realizing that he’d need to speak with Bruce and Tony when they return because clearly, their fucking suppressants didn’t do shit.

He was about to grab his phone and call Steve when a whiff of your scent hit him. His body froze. There was no way he could smell you when you were nowhere near. Unless…

“Sergeant Barnes, it appears that Ms. Y/L/N is in need of…medical attention. Her vitals are unstable. Should I call Mr. Stark or the doctors upstairs?” Why the AI chose to tell Bucky this information he would never know.

“How long has she been like this?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth.

“About four hours Sir.”

“Fuck me!”

“I don’t see how this could help the situation Sergeant Barnes.” Friday responded instantly and had Bucky not been on his very last nerve, he would have laughed at the sarcasm.

Not thinking about the consequences, Bucky pushed through his door, choosing to ascend the stairs instead of taking the elevator to calm his nerves before he approached you.

As soon as he was on your floor, his stance wavered. He smelled iris flowers all around him to the point of almost choking on the sweet scent. Before he could walk to your door, he heard your faint whines calling for him from behind your apartment. Bucky closed his fists in an attempt to control himself before approaching your door. He was about to knock when it was pulled open for him aggressively.

And the sight in front of him took his breath away.

You were wearing nothing but a sheer nude camisole that left nothing to the imagination, skin sweaty and slick running down your legs. Your hair was dishevelled, chest heaving before you attempted to take a step forward.

“A-alpha…”

Your legs unfortunately gave out on you before you could go to Bucky. But he was quick, leaning forward just in time to catch you before you fell to the floor.

“Sweet omega,” Bucky whispered before carrying you back to your bed. He could tell you tried to make a nest for yourself but it wasn’t up to your standards. Slowly laying you down, he stepped away and grabbed as many pillows and blankets as he could, placing them around you before getting behind you on the bed.

“Alpha…please, hurts so much. Need you, James please alpha I-” Your little whimpers were music to his ears, but Bucky couldn’t betray your trust, not when you were in no mind to make any proper, consenting decision.

“I know ‘mega, I know doll, wanna help you so fucking badly, wanna make you cum on my cock till you can’t fucking remember anything else…but I can’t. I’m sorry darlin’.” Those were not the words you wished to hear from the one man you’d wanted since forever. You whined, tears rolling down your cheeks as his hands soothed your arms.

“Alpha please…I’ll be so good to you. Don’t you wanna knot me Bucky? I’ll do whatever you want me to do, just- fuck please, please.” You begged and begged but to no avail. Bucky cursed into the night air, wishing he could take you right then and there, but he knew that once the two of you finished, everything would be different.

“Fucking damn it, I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry. Come’ere.” Bucky turned you around easily in his arms until you were straddling his thighs, the show of strength making a new wave of slick run down your thighs and wet his sweatpants. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. You looked so fucking incredible, so fucking ready and hot for him. Knowing he was the one turning you on made him harder than a rock, but he pushed the thought back again.

“Shhh, I know doll, omega you’re so sweet. So wet and beautiful for your alpha huh?”

“Yes, yes all for you. Always for you James.” Bucky made sure he’d ask you about that little comment later but now, he needed to make sure you weren’t in pain. He held you close to him, letting go for a second to take off his sweatshirt before wrapping his arms around you and bringing you flush to his chest. Looking into your eyes, he gave you a warm smile before taking hold of your neck and drawing circles right under your hair, pulling you to his neck until your nose was nudging his scent gland. He noticed your heart rate was slowing down, in return calming him down a bit. He thought he’d have to ask you to stay in his arms but the opposite happened. You wrapped your arms around his back, fingers feeling every muscle movement on the naked skin before you rubbed his scent gland harshly.

Bucky was losing his mind with every pass you made. His hold tightened around your form, his brain refusing to think of your hard nipples brushing against his chest and the impossibly wet sweatpants beginning to flood his boxer briefs.

“That’s it doll, there you go. Just wanna help you out baby, don’t want anythin’ else. Wanna know you’re safe. Is that alright Y/N?” Bucky whispered into your ears, watching your neck like a hawk and sensing your heart rate speed up again. You hummed and nodded, not wanting to distract yourself from the task at hand for one moment. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing how hard it must be for you as well. He kept on lulling you and massaging your back, occasionally sliding his hands a little too low or too harshly. You’d moan against him before nudging his gland aggressively in return. The longer you scented him, the hotter you grew. Having an alpha in your arms that refused to knot you was painful but some part of you understood why he wouldn’t go there.

Suddenly, Bucky combed his flesh hand in the nape of your neck, pulling you away from him and not giving you a chance to ask any question before he was mirroring your actions. Keeping his metal hand on your exposed skin to keep you cool, Bucky leaned forward, leaving wet kisses on your own scent gland before nipping at it lightly. He could feel you shaking in his arms, happy that he was the one causing such a reaction from you. He continued to bite and lick your neck, his hold on you surely leaving marks in the near future and the thought of knowing you’d have more than one mark on your body because of him caused him to growl.

You started rubbing yourself on his thighs, nails digging into his skin the needier he became with his actions.

“Such a needy omega aren’t you doll? You wanna cum baby? You wanna show your alpha just how slick that pussy can get? Fuck darlin’ you’re driving me mad. Wanna bury my face in that sweet, wet cunt of yours. Wanna fuck you with my tongue doll, lick you dry and have you drench me. Goddamn omega, you’re so good for me.” Bucky pulled away, holding your waist tightly before flexing his thigh muscles in time for you to rub your pussy on him. Supporting your weight on his shoulders, you looked away embarrassingly, eyes aimed at the ceiling as you continued to use him to get to your pleasure. Some part of your brain registered the fact that he was in control this entire time, not once forcing himself on you even when he was told he could. The fact that an alpha like him allowed you to use him so you could relieve yourself, without even asking for anything in return, was making you emotional and lustful.

“Look at me omega, fucking look at me when I make you cum.” Bucky growled, his voice shaking you to your core and you couldn’t help but obey him, eyes slowly drifting until you met his barely blue orbs. He was somehow as breathless as you, a flush taking over his features and making him look all the more handsome.

“Bucky, Bucky, oh god….Bucky,” you prayed his name with every pass of your soaked pussy over his thighs, mesmerized by how patient he’s been so far.

“Yeah doll, ‘m right here, keep going love, wanna feel this cunt drench my thighs baby. Fucking hell, smell so good, so perfect. So fucking warm and sexy using me to get off. Come on darlin’, cum. Cum. NOW!” James growled the last bit, biting his lower lip when your legs started shaking and you screamed his name as you continued to fuck yourself on his thighs. Bucky puffed out his chest, rolling over until you were beneath him. He was breathing harshly, the new position making him realize he might lose the control on his alpha. Before he could pull away, you crossed your legs behind his back, making him fall against you, his weight making you feel safer. You could feel his cock twitch against your wet thighs and you rolled your hips a few times, arching your back against him and keeping him flush against you.

“Y/N please…I c-can’t, fffuck you feel so good, omega, listen-” Bucky was saying one thing but his body was doing something else. His hips swayed against your naked core, and he was almost ashamed of how he was humping you like a fucking teenager. You both looked down in unison, watching your cunt wet his crotch.

Bucky didn’t mean to look down but as soon as he saw your pussy, something snapped in him.

He pushed off of you instantly, walking away from the bed to the balcony in an attempt to calm himself down and smell something that was not you. He could hear you shuffle behind him and hoped to god you were either putting something on or settling down beneath the covers.

“Alpha…” The moan came out so lewdly Bucky was close to coming in his pants. He turned around to try and tell you that he should leave when he stopped breathing.

“Y/N I think I should g-”

Bucky’s eyes took in your body, now free of the camisole and open for him. He walked around the bed slowly, calculating his next steps wisely as he committed this image to memory. You were on your knees, face against your pillow, hands fisting the covers and ass round and ready in the air.

“D-doll?”

“James.” You licked your lips and watched him fight an inner battle with himself. Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull his sweatpants down and shove his cock in your pussy and fuck you till neither of you remembered the current year. He swallowed the lump in his throat, kneeling down on the bed and grabbing your hips before pushing you on your back. He grabbed his sweatshirt and pushed it into your arms before laying down and pulling you into his arms.

“Sleep doll, you’ll need your energy for later.” You frowned, wanting to ask him why he continued to turn you down but his hold on you only tightened. Bucky continued to stare at the ceiling, pushing his own desire back and urging you to continue scenting him. You obliged, knowing this was probably as close to a comforting-Bucky as you could get. You decided to make the best of these moments, shoving the sweatshirt beneath the covers before wrapping your arm around his chest. You could feel his muscles tense when he felt your nails digging into his skin, relaxing against you as soon as you nudged his scent gland again. Bucky couldn’t help but pull you closer to him when he heard you take a long whiff of his neck, finally relaxing enough to not hurt your feelings any more than he already has.

But as much as he tried, Bucky couldn’t get an ounce of sleep. Not when he felt your skin getting warmer by the minute. You however, had no trouble dozing off, finding the alpha’s presence much more helpful than you thought.

Then your heat decided to kick it up a few notches and you became restless again. Bucky felt your uneasiness before you did, attempting to pull away and see what he can do. He realized his mistake as soon as your eyes fluttered open, a look of absolute need written all over them when Bucky dared to make eye contact. Before he could say anything, you took hold of his metal arm, wrapping it across chest quickly and making sure Bucky couldn’t pull it away. He didn’t know what to do, his lips shivering when he looked down and saw where his thumb was. Bucky’s fingers twitched against the hard nipple beneath his hand, incapable of stopping the small action when it occurred again, this time a little rougher and firmer.

“J-James-” Your raspy voice broke the silence, your own hands laying above Bucky’s and pressing it harder against your breast. “Please. Ple-please James.” The sound of his name falling from your lips had him angrier than ever, more at himself for being in this situation than anything else. You dared to wrap one thigh around his hip, wanting to get any small relief from the alpha in your arms.

“Ahh fuck, doll you gotta stop doing that. I can’t. You know I can’t.” Bucky tried to reason calmly with you but the wrecked voice only edged you on, your hips bucking against his already wet sweatpants. Knowing this would only get worse for him, Bucky did the first thing that came to mind even though the more rational part of his brain begged him not to take this any further. Not caring how rough he was being with you, Bucky took hold of your wrists and flipped your around, pulling your back flush to his chest before sitting up against the headboard with you between his thighs.

“You want some relief doll? Fine, I’ll give you some fucking relief. Open your legs.” He growled against your ear, no longer shying away from touching you. You were so focused on how perfect his metal arm felt against your chest that you didn’t hear what he said.

“Omega, I said…open your fucking legs!” Bucky bit your shoulder, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples harshly until you obeyed his command. Your legs were shaking in anticipation, eyes looking down at your sweating limbs and watching as he played your body like he was your mate. Bucky didn’t bother to take things slow, a part of him thinking speeding this up would get him some closure. Just one more touch, one more look at your skin reacting to him, one more. He pretended this would help him out, not realizing things were only going to get worse after this.

“So fucking pretty, smell so good doll. Smell like me, fuck I want you. I want you so fucking badly ‘mega. I can hardly breathe baby, can’t think straight anymore. Everywhere I go, I only think about you. How you’d fit in my arms. How perfect this cunt would be choking my cock. How pretty our neck would look with my mark on it. How fucking wet you’d get with just the thought of your alpha having his way with you. God baby I wanna fill you up, breed your fucking cunt so no one would dare come near you. You’d like that wouldn’t you love? Hmm?”

“Oh James don’t stop. D-don’t stop. Alpha please. Make me yours. Make me yours James. I don’t want anyone else.” In a moment of overstimulation, you pulled your neck all the way back until your head rested on his shoulder, presenting yourself for him to have his way with you. Bucky only growled at the pure submission he could feel, biting on your shoulders harder before continuing to rub your pussy. He cupped your breast with his other hand, watching your pussy as it drained the sheets beneath the two of you. his eyes went everywhere, from the way your legs opened up for him to how your nipples hardened with every pass of his fingers against him. He was close to exploding, his cock straining harshly against his sweatpants and making him wish he wasn’t an honorable man.

You kept on rubbing your back against his crotch, the biological part of your brain begging you to reach around and grab him. And when you tried to move, Bucky knew what you were attempting to do, distracting you with switching his actions. His right arm trailed up your body, drenching your skin with your own juices while his left arm descended your hot skin grabbed at your thighs. He wanted to distract you as quickly as possible, coating his metal fingers with your cum before slowly inching two fingers inside your clenching pussy. You gasped against him, looking down and crying out his name when he fucked you relentlessly. Bucky was close to asking if this was okay with you but then he felt the way your walls squeezed his fingers and knew this was probably helping out more than he thought. The cold of his hand was doing wonders to your aching core, opening you up like never before until you couldn’t take it. You came around his fingers, hands trying to grab at anything to keep you sane.

When he didn’t stop, you turned around and begged him, swearing and whispering against his scent gland and hoping he would have some mercy on you. But then he turned you around in his arms until you were sitting on the bed, his fingers still knuckle deep inside of you.

“Fucking look at me. Look at me when I make you cum Omega. This what you wanted right? You wanted me to make you cum? Don’t even know what you do to me…driving me fucking insane. Fuck that’s right. Scream my name. Scream your alpha’s name omega. Fucking looking at me now!” For the first time during that night, Bucky was the one initiating the kiss, his lips devouring your own like he belonged to you as he fucked you with his fingers. You moaned into the kiss, not sure if the tears falling down your cheeks were because of how sensitive you were or the fact that he continued to call himself your alpha yet he refused to fuck you.

When it was all too much, you grabbed his wrist to attempt and slow him down, hands moving to his biceps when he continued to drive you mad with need.

“Ple…please. No more. N-no more.” You were heaving against him, your breaths coming in shallow and quick. He stole one last kiss before reluctantly tearing himself away from your body. Your eyes suddenly felt heavy, limbs incapable of moving on their own. When Bucky saw the state you were in, he smiled to himself, knowing it was because of him that you were like this. Lifting you up slowly, he laid you on the bed again and pushed his sweatshirt near your head. You were about to ask him where he was going when sleep took over from how forceful your orgasm was. Bucky wanted to change the sheets but the sick part of him knew that if he were to try to do so, he’d probably end up stealing the wet sheets and keeping them for himself. Lord knew how hard the past few hours were on him but he still wouldn’t want to disrespect you like that.

He laughed at that last thought. It’s not like he didn’t already cross the line.

Stealing one last look, Bucky asked Friday to update him every few hours in case your heat got worse. And Bucky swore to God the AI was too embarrassed to reply to him but it did so anyway. He left your quarters with an unsettling feeling in his chest, a feeling he did not expect to feel anytime soon. And when he arrived at his room and shut the door, it felt like someone has stabbed his heart with a knife and twisted it to make sure he was in pain. The control he had on his alpha ceased to exist and Bucky couldn’t try to calm himself down even if he tried. He threw his chair across the room, growling into the dark air as the chair shattered through the balcony sliding doors. Stripping quickly, he walked into the shower and turned on the cold water, standing under it until he could no longer smell you on his skin. But he knew that wouldn’t be possible until at least a few days when his scent gland was no longer holding the trace of what the two of you had done.

[cherrygorilla]

Time for me to be nosy as heck for the fanfic author thing! Hope you don't mind if I ask a lot like you did to me! Here you are: 4, 5, 6, 7, 14, 17, 20, 21, 22, 24, 25, 27, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 35, 37, 40 A bunch are the same ones you asked me, but I'm really curious as to what your answers would be. If there's anything you'd like to answer that I didn't ask you, then feel free to add it on if you feel up to it! 💖

Okay, I'm known to ramble at the best of times but I really ran away with myself here. You may want to grab a snack or something first; it's hella long. You've been warned! 

4. What made you start writing fanfiction? 

When I was like 11/12 I was obsessed with the musical Starlight Express and after trying to google just about everything I could about it I think I stumbled across some fanfiction for it. Well, instantly my little english-class-loving brain grabbed this concept and ran with it. I remember writing my own stories in this cheap little notebook I would hide in my bedside table drawer and it was around this time that TBM came out, so naturally I decided to see if that had any fanfiction too. Turns out it did, and significantly more than Starlight Express might I add, so my creativity ran away with itself and next thing I knew I was setting up my own account and getting properly involved this time. And I guess, as they say, the rest is history... 

5. Favourite pairing? 

This is pretty tricky for me. Most of the pairings that I have set up are littered with little flaws and things that make them more interesting to write about (and hopefully read about lol) and more realistic. And the already established pairings that I use (i.e. Mack & Brady in old stories or Lela & Tanner) just feel too bland for me to really connect with them, which is probably why I always struggle so much to write for them. I suppose Lela & Tanner can be cute, or at least their potential is; I don't feel like the movies did them justice lol. But for my stuff, at the moment I just feel so out of practice with writing and at such an early stage in the story with Wheels and Waves that I'm not really attached to any of the pairings yet. And besides, the only one I've really established so far is Butchy & Giggles, but if you've read my last chapter then you'll know that that's not exactly doing so hot atm. So, since I can pick holes and find flaws in everyone's relationships too much to pick a favourite, I think I'll pick one I'm excited about that has some of the biggest flaws imaginable: Coral & Hyde. And that's all I'm going to say. Unless you're curious, then ask away lmao. 

6. Least favourite pairing? 

Okay, I may be a bit controversial here- Actually, this is probably really controversial judging by some of the reviews on my old stories that I was just reading. But I don't really like Mack & Brady… Hear me out! Maybe it's just because I haven't watched the movies for ages and I haven't been thinking about them writing-wise since I abandoned my old stuff but they just seem really bland to me. Don't get me wrong, they're super sweet, but I like giving my characters a bit of grit to work with and make them a little more interesting beneath their 'perfect movie character in an idyllic world' surface and I just could never seem to do that with Mack & Brady. I could never manage to give them any depth and because of that I feel like I just grew to resent them haha. Other people can write for them much better than I can, let's just put it that way. Apart from them though, non-canon-wise in my stories it's got to be Butchy & Coral. Hands down. Honestly, what was I thinking? It was cringey. It was basic. And I think because of it Coral became super one-dimensional and kept losing her way as a character because my whole focus was trying to get them to work as a couple. Spoiler alert: they don't. And since I ditched them I think I was really able to get her to come into her own and develop a much more interesting, albeit worse, side of her.

7. Favourite type of au? 

This is probably going to be a quick one because I don't do a lot of au stuff but modern day/high school aus are always a lot of fun. I feel like TBM2 could have done so much cool stuff with that premise but then they went and dumbed down all the characters and really ruined their chance but I think the concept in general is so cute. I'm actually working on something in this vein for my sims blog, but that's not what we're talking about so let's move on. 

14. Do the people in your life know you write fic? How do they feel about it?

 Nope. I haven't ever mentioned it to my family because I just don't think that they'd 'get' it. I think I mentioned it to one of my best friends ages ago because she also read/casually wrote fanfics but I don't think that she still knows that I've kept it up; she probably just assumes that it was something we both just did when we were 13/14. So they don't really think anything of it; they don't know and probably never will lol. So I just struggle over chapters and ideas and things by myself. 

17. What's the harshest criticism you've ever gotten on a fic? 

To be honest, I don't think that I've ever really had any super harsh criticism. None that I can remember, anyway. I was reading through the reviews on one story recently and someone told me that I should work on my dialogue for Mack & Brady because it wasn't true enough to their characters and tbh they probably weren't wrong. That's barely criticism but it was the closest that I could find to it in my five minutes of looking and nothing else stood out in my memory so I guess that's what I'll go with. I know that probably sounds super cocky like "omg i'm amazing i never get any criticism from anyone because i'm amazingggg!!!1!!" but honestly all the reviews on my old stuff were just people being nice to me because I was friendly to them and I get next to no reviews on my current stuff, so there's no real opportunity for criticism if there's no interaction in the first place lmao. 

20. What's your biggest struggle when it comes to writing fic? 

Actually finding the time to write it when I have uni work, family life, stuff with friends and a somewhat healthy sleep schedule to balance as well. I just don't have enough hours in a day. Besides that, when it actually comes to writing I guess I find it hard to stick solely to ideas that progress the plot. I've been trying to work on that a lot more lately and be more ruthless with my planning but sometimes I just get inspired by something fun and in sheer creative desperation I just wedge it into the plot somewhere. And I think that for the reader's sake I need to stop doing this. 

21. Your biggest strength? 

I don't know if this is what anyone else would consider my biggest strength but I personally really like the way that I can develop the characters beyond what little personality we get to see in the movies. I love working on their story arcs and experimenting with how they 'exist' in my head, like finding out who the quiet souls are, who the loud mouths are and why they act like that. From the snippets we actually see of them in the movies and how basic they are, I'm pretty proud of the characters I've rounded them into in my stories; they feel a lot more real now, to me at least. 

22. Which do you do more: read fic or write fic? 

I know it's hard to believe, but probably write. I only really keep up with a handful of stories now and I always find I'm more actively thinking about kicking my butt into gear and writing something myself instead of setting out to read someone else's stuff. 

24. What's your process? 

Daydream and plan out future plot lines for most of the waking hours of the day. Find the fleeting shred of time available in said day to sit down and work on something if both inspiration and motivation are working in my favour. Actually sit down and open up a google doc, perhaps with a cup of tea if I'm feeling particularly adventurous and fancy treating myself for doing something productive. Painfully struggle through the first ten minutes of warming up my writing muscles and getting my creative juices flowing again. Settle into a good rhythm and just let my fingers and the words work their magic until something boring from the real world interrupts me and drags me away from my fictional one. Then repeat. 

25. Of all the fics you've written, which is your favourite? 

I know it's not necessarily a single fic but I really liked when I was writing the one-shots for Surf, Sun, Sand because I knew that I was writing the things people wanted to read, so I knew there was more of a chance that they'd enjoy them. And it was nice not being constrained to one timeline, I could jump around and play with different pairings, ideas and settings as much as I, well, the requests, wanted. I also really liked my Twelve Days of Cruisin' for a Bruisin' Christmas story, but I can't put that at the top spot because I'm so frustrated that I never got that final chapter up. It was really fun to write though and that's one of the few things that I've written that I'm still happy with to this day lmao. I just think it's sweet and I like how I wrote all the characters, so I'd say that's a win for me. 

27. What's your most popular fic? Do you think the popularity is warranted, or is there another fic that you think deserves it more? 

Statistics-wise it's Paper Flowers, by a long-shot. 77,485 views and 331 reviews. Now, I think that the fact that there are about a million chapters and I wrote it back when the fandom was thriving has quite a lot to do with that, if not all of it, because I'm almost certain that it can't be the writing, character quality or whatever crap I threw into the plot back then. But for nostalgia's sake, I'll allow it. And to be fair, it was probably alright at the time. I do think, however, that I've developed and improved my writing style over the years, so it would be nice if Wheels and Waves could get a little more popularity (since it's something I'm actually semi-proud of lol). But I just don't have the audience, so what can you do? 

29. Which of your fics was the hardest to write? 

Just Like Me. By a country mile. Like I mentioned earlier, I really struggle when it comes to writing for Mack & Brady and although I liked the concept (and a few other people did too) I just wasn't ever happy with what I ended up with. The chapters felt boring (which probably had something to do with the fact that I wrote them in my phone notes at 11:30pm), their relationship felt bland and the plot felt like it was going nowhere. I sort of had a vague structure of where I wanted to take it, but when I couldn't seem to get the hang of writing for them every chapter felt like such a challenge. 

30. Favourite fic writers? 

You, girl! I literally don't even bother to keep up with anyone else anymore because I just don't have the time (uni will do that to a bitch, lol) but I never miss a post of yours and will frequently go and re-read your stuff (especially if it's in preparation for a crossover lmao) if I need a pick-me-up. And like you said, we're practically family now and what kind of internet sister would I be if I didn't support my fam?! 

31. Do you write just for fun, or would you ever consider pursuing writing? 

I don't think I'd ever actually pursue it as a job. I'm in dentistry school atm so I'm pretty set on becoming a dentist, but even if that wasn't the case, I don't think I have the creativity to create my own unique story with original characters and a whole universe under my control. I just think it's fun to expand on other ideas and grow my own ideas from them. 

33. Fanfiction pet peeves? 

Bad grammar is really frustrating. But I also just think it's really boring when people will basically re-write the whole movie/story pretty much word-for-word with only the slightest of alterations. Like, I've already watched/read this once, why would I want to do it again? I came here for creativity and fun stories with my fave characters, not the flat-out plot all over again with a cookie-cutter, paper doll inserted into the mix to steal a few lines. It just bored me. 

34. First person, second person or third person? 

I'd probably put second person last because I just find reader-insert things weird and cringey. Like they legit make me feel uncomfortable sometimes. And then I'd go with first person because although I don't really have a problem with it, it's just never a style I'd choose to write in; I just can't really get the hang of it and I prefer to be able to see and show everyone's perspective on a situation from the outside, which is why good old third person has to be my favourite. 

35. OCs, reader inserts or canon pairings?

 Like I said, reader inserts creep me out a bit so definitely not those. Canon pairings are a pretty safe bet and can be cute most of the time (I just personally seem to struggle with them lol) and if they're done well (i.e. not basic bitches with no personality that just double as weird reader inserts *cough cough* Coral in Paper Flowers smh 12 year old me) then I think OCs can be really fun and can add another layer to fanfics that takes them beyond the bubble of what's canon. 

37. Which character is your favourite to write for? 

Saying Coral would be too easy because she's literally my own character, so of course I'm going to enjoy writing for her. So, other than that I'm going to have to say Seacat. I feel much more comfortable writing for the surfers than the bikers anyway, so that definitely plays into it. But I really like the version of him I've created. I really leaned into his sort of fiesty, stubborn side that occasionally showed itself in the movies, which created a super interesting dynamic with his inherent relaxed nature that all the surfers have. He's a really fun character to work with and I've got lots of fun things planned for him, so I think he's earned that top spot. But I'll mention Giggles too because it's been fun developing her character more deeply for Wheels and Waves. I just like a bit more drama, which Seacat can deliver more than my sweet bby G. 

40. Imagine yourself 10 years in the future, do you still think you'll be writing fic? 

Honestly, who knows? Back when I started I never thought I'd still be writing it at 18, so never say never, I guess. 

And since you said I could choose another one, I'll go for 38. From where do you draw inspiration? 

I wanted to include this one because I'm literally listening to my Wheels and Waves playlist as I write this to try to get me into that #writingmood. A few different things influence me but music has always been my biggest inspiration. I'm constantly adding new songs to my playlist and finding songs I want to use so badly that I'll rearrange and shift around plot points to work them into the story. For example, that Coral & Hyde relationship I mentioned earlier? Grown entirely from songs. But yeah, I'm always getting inspired by songs, which is why I'm really trying to get a general plan of Wheels and Waves set in stone so that I'll stop being tempted to switch things around and ruin the plot with convoluted ideas I get on a whim because I heard a fun song. On another note though, if you have any song suggestions then hit me up lmao; I'm always looking for more haha.

[manicpixiedreamjew]

ok i rewrote and revised my letter! let me know what you think

2/9/19

Rabbi Randy,                                              

As our Into class comes to an end, a lot has been on my mind. My spirituality, my values; how my perception of the world has changed as I solidify my Jewish identity, especially as a young woman. I spent a few hours poring over journal entries dating back all the way to 2016 this Shabbat, and a consistent theme stood out in all of them: an overwhelming, genuine urge to live an authentic Jewish life. I read, thrown back into the innocent curiosity, the puppy love, the childlike fascination with Jews and Judaism that began with a book. The Chosen, the very first Jewish book I read, and I’m sure I’ve told you this story before; I’ll spare the details.

Anyway, those first inklings of interest, say, early 2016, were academic. I was a vehement atheist born to a family of atheists. Then again, who has a nuanced understanding of religion and people-hood at sixteen? My atheism was an obstinate, cynical world view triggered by traumatic experiences with Christianity. When I picked up The Chosen, though...I was slapped right across the face. Judaism was the first thing that challenged my philosophies; it forced me into an entirely foreign universe I never thought I’d know, need or understand. It taught me empathy foremost, in those early days...studying Judaism exhorted me to bear the burden of others, to feed the hungry (a MAZON seminar comes to mind), comfort the weary. Looking at my journal, an entry dated 3/3/17 elaborates on the effects of antisemitism in America, and next to that a newspaper cut out of a Magen David. It wasn’t quite personal then, but it was something I wouldn’t have looked twice at a few years earlier. It disturbed me deeply.

Then, mid-late 2017. The journal entries shifted, as you’d expect; I’d been exhaustively involved in reading and researching by then. I see a lovingly inscribed entry detailing, religiously, my first Kabbalat Shabbat at CRC. 7/1/17. The smells, the melodies, my friends, the birthday celebration of two elderly men who loved baseball. “A deep, riveting admiration for something ancient and pulsing with life.” That puppy-love stage was in full effect, my love of Judaism and its personal implications blossomed over the springtime, although its fragrance wasn’t entirely sweet: I was forced to confront my identity and ask myself that looming question. Do I want to become a Jew?

That question threw me for a loop. It was an emotionally intense time. I confided to my closest friend that, although it may sound absurd, converting to Judaism was something I was interested in. I remember crying myself to sleep some nights because the decision was so massive, so heavy, so entirely suffocating for someone with no background in religion, no sense of community or family. Eventually, though, my fate did not seem so dire, and I came to my senses: I loved Judaism. I loved it, I love it. One of the first things that stood out to me and comforted me was the Jewish emphasis on family, something I never experienced. I clung to it: how someone’s always there for you;  how you’re adopted into world-wide support network called the Tribe. How no matter where you travel, anywhere in the world, someone will enthusiastically invite you over for Shabbat lunch. How, because you are Jewish, you will never suffer alone.

That, then, began my serious resolve to be Jewish, do Jewish and live Jewish.

Ever since I met with you on 11/21/17 (I have an entry for that, too!), my life has been a foray into Jewishness. You told me to start observing Shabbat and Yom Tov, and I did so with vigor: I bought a chanukiah, acquired the shiniest candlesticks I could, and read every book the local library had regarding proper observances. I look back on my first few holidays and laugh now, playfully admonishing myself for my mistakes and mishaps. But that’s the fun, right? If I learned anything from this week’s Parsha (Terumah), it’s that the means are more much important than the end, the intention more meaningful than the actualization. Late 2017 to early 2018 was all that: learning, doing, experiencing, interacting, existing with a fat dose of humility. Organizing a basic Jewish vocabulary, and through Shabbat services and working with the community, pinning down what it means to live a Jewish life.

Enter 2018! This was, perhaps, the most frustrated and chaotic year on my Journey to Jewish. To start, it was my last semester of high-school. Everything, and I mean Everything, was dependent on my graduation—most saliently my own happiness and sanity. My synagogue attendance was dwindling, my ambition and motivation was all but absent. I’ve always suffered from depression and severe anxiety, but its clutch tightened horribly those first few months. I managed to attend a Kol Nidre service in early September—and, it remains one of my most beautiful and cherished memories to date. December, I know, was the hardest. Between my Catholic father making crusade jokes and my Jesus-obsessed mother spewing casual antisemitism, between unending loads of coursework and no free time, I felt my spirit literally withering. This never weakened my resolve to live Jewishly, but some days I just couldn’t bring myself to enact the values I knew I held in my heart. Some days Judaism felt like a beloved friend, and others Judaism felt like a stranger. Nevertheless I continued to live as Jewish a life I could, but even kindling the Chanukah candles felt joyless. I was like Tevye standing in the middle of the woods, anguished, as his horse refused to budge. Through all of it, though—the sadness, numbness, friction—I was never, ever, once deterred. That’s how life is sometimes. But to be a Jew, as our own Reb Tevye zealously insisted, you must have hope.

And I did. This is when Judaism became real to me, when I realized it was a part of my life and etched into my very being. If I could live Jewishly, study, be a part of my community and find solace while also dealing with these hardships, this was clearly meant to be. I’ve been using “us” and “we” pronouns for a few months now, referring to myself as Jewish even though I’ve yet to immerse in a mikveh. When our class visited the Holocaust museum, the loss and heartache I felt was profoundly intimate...a personal loss, the loss of family I never had the opportunity to know and love. I had never experienced anything like that before, and it continues to haunt me. I’ve been the target of hateful and ignorant remarks. People have glowered at my Magen David; they’ve called me names and insulted me. “Christ killer, money hoarder, dirty Jew.”

But, and I’m a bit weepy remembering this, living Jewishly (and loudly at that) is a blessing. Maybe two summers ago I catered to an older family for their son’s graduation party. An uncle approached me, blinked at my Magen David and muttered “bless you.” I was visibly shaken; I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Later in the evening the grandmother touched my shoulder and asked, “are you Jewish?” I told her I was a conversion student. She embraced me, dug out dreidels from her kitchen drawer, and told me that she was separated from her Judaism during childhood. That it was too dangerous for her to practice, that she wanted to go back to synagogue now that she was safe. I encouraged her daughter to finally have her bar mitzvah. My heart was full. Another memory I’m fond of: wishing a stranger chag Pesach sameach and Shabbat Shalom on the street. He was wearing a kippah. The smile on that man’s face was unforgettable.

Those moments, to me, were godly. Actions are a conduit of holiness; I’ve learned that over the years. To act with intent and sanctify the mundane is second nature to us. A bracha, a kind word, charity, song...everything is a vessel for godliness.

Fast forward a bit: 2019. As I grew into my adult identity, so did I into my Jewish identity. I had my 18th birthday, graduated, passed my driving test. I began to wrap my hair on Shabbat, meditate on the Sh’ma swathed in a tallit, give tzedakah. Often times I sat in the little CRC classroom and pondered on the application of my learning: how it translated into my everyday life, how it reconciled with my values as a progressive woman in today’s society...but mostly, I think, I thought about how at home I felt. I walk into CRC and immediately feel at peace; a part of a family, the member of a loving household. I walk into the sanctuary and about a dozen people are ready to greet me with big, heartfelt smiles. It melts me every single time.

Alright, I’ll quit boring you with all this schmaltz.

I’m not sure that there was one definite moment when I knew, for sure, that being Jewish was the right choice for me. In fact, to assume all that soul searching could fit into one tiny, fleeting, ephemeral moment is ridiculous...as you know from the absurd length of this letter, which is only a minute fraction of my story. Seriously, I could go on, and on, and on; but I digress. Sitting at our Sukkot celebration and dancing with all the other people, looking up through the sukkah and marveling at the hanging plants and leaves. Baking challah on Friday morning and realizing that somewhere, other Jewish women are doing the exact same thing. Feeling warm summer wind on my face, seeing fireflies flicker through the bushes and knowing that HaShem is there. Touching my siddur to the Torah for the first time and bristling, feeling as though something breathed new life into me. Group Aliyah, a guiding hand on my shoulder as we chant the brachot in clumsy unison…

Each moment (and many more, and yet more to come) reaffirmed the fact that Judaism is my home. Ruth said it more succinctly and eloquently than I ever could: Your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God.

Randy, I never thought I’d be doing this. Ever. Looking back at the learning and growing I’ve done, reading those journals and reminiscing on my journey, I can firmly say, if you agree, I’m ready to enter this Covenant officially.

Thank you for everything, as always,

Zoë

[broccolianddandelion]

13 Todobaku Fic Recs

I’ve been following the BNHA fandom for approximately two seconds, but within this time Todobaku has become my indisputable OTP. (The evil soul who introduced me to the fandom via her divine artwork (@anatchie) favors Bakudeku, and I feel a little disloyal now, but what can you do?) Over the past months I’ve read a lot of Todobaku. My gift to you is a baker’s dozen of my (admittedly idiosyncratic) favorites, the ones I return to time and again. As always, check out the author’s tags before reading. They’re there for a reason.

The indelicacies of nitroglycerin (T, 50.2K) by yeetin. - “Don’t you think Bakugou is pretty?”

Todoroki looked up, after having apparently caused the untimely deaths of his three friends. Uraraka was doubled over, clutching her throat as bits of food sprayed from her wheezing mouth, Iida had somehow mini-Recipro Bursted his way through the floorboards and was struggling to get back out of the crater, and Midoriya… Midoriya looked like he needed an ambulance. Or an immediate blood transfusion at least, his face was so white.

This fic has one of the most indelible scenes of drunk Todoroki I’ve ever read. A little angsty, a lot funny.

I want to reconcile the violence in my heart (T, 28.1K) by @callalilalma - You had one job, you piece of shit! his brain yells at it. Just pump fucking blood in my veins, don’t fucking give yourself to half and half!

This fic got me fascinated with the idea of Bakugou as an unreliable narrator. I may be halfway done with a remix from Todoroki’s point of view. I’ve probably listened to the Muse song thousands of time by now. (I’m a slow writer.)

i want you (to want me) (T, 18.5K) by shaekspeares - “You know what,” Bakugou exhales angrily, more to himself, and then suddenly is leaning over Todoroki where he sits, arms by his sides and face close to his. “It doesn’t fucking matter. I can think whatever the fuck I want of you. I’m gonna beat you no matter how much better than me you think you are.”

“When you’re not having a tantrum, I actually respect you a lot,” Todoroki corrects. Mainly because he means it, but also because he’s starting to know how to get Bakugou to pull the face he’s pulling now. “You’re an admirable person in some ways.”

“Fucking hell,” Bakugou says, his shoulders sagging and his expression comically disheartened. “I- what’s next? You gonna declare your love for me mid-battle?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Todoroki replies, instinctively, then freezes, thinking about it.

“I’m fucking- going,” Bakugou continues, undeterred and jittery. “Fucking weirdo.”

He hastily grabs his bag and stomps off, and Todoroki sits very still.

Oh, dear.

He thinks he may have missed a few things while redefining his feelings.

One of my favorite characterizations of Todoroki. Hilarious and sweet getting together fic.

Lock and Key (E, WIP) by @autochorystalize - Bakugou made a choked, gravelly noise before croaking out a low, “You can’t be serious.” His fingers ached to blow up everything in the room.

“I’m sorry, young man, but you can’t change reality! This sometimes happens.” Recovery Girl clicked through his file, adding a new symbol in a previously empty slot. - - - A pair of eyes discreetly locked on to an explosive blond plowing his way forward, parting people in his path. He recognized the kid, of course. Anyone in the underbelly of society would recognize him, after the publicity of both UA’s Sports Festival and the events leading up to All Might’s fall. The uniform he was wearing cast away any doubts about the young man’s identity. It was a bit of a surprise that the little firecracker presented as an omega. - - - - - - - - - Or: there are certain types of evil that seemed too distant, archaic violations and perversions that would never actually threaten bright-eyed heroes-in-training in the clean, modern world...but sometimes those evils aren't as distant as one might think.

The fic that changed my mind about abo. The world building is mind blowing. Delves deep into social issues that are all too real. This can be a hard read at times (check the tags) but is absolutely worth it. Also I’m dying for Bakugou and Todoroki to get together.

nothing lingers passively. (E, WIP) by @ii-mo - A faint tickling sensation under the bridge of his nose was all the warning he received before Bakugou gripped the lapels of his uniform and hauled him in. The scent of the Alpha's peaking rut shot through him like a bullet, ricocheting off his insides and settling to quiver at the bottom of his gut, still warm.

Cross- eyed, Todoroki wrinkled his nose where it nearly met his classmate’s. He should have expected that reaction, honestly.

Alpha Bakugou Katsuki is allergic to suppressants, and Todoroki Shouto is a Beta with a grudge. Together they strike a deal that swiftly becomes more than either of them had bargained for.            

As of this writing there is one more chapter left in this story, and I can’t wait to read it. Fascinating take on the biology of alphas and betas.

Proximate Cause (T, 5.3K) by @daddyissuesandgrenadehands - “It seems our dear Bakugou has punched a teacher.” Shockingly, there’s no sarcasm in Nedzu's voice. “Midoriya was involved somehow too, but we aren’t sure how just yet. This is quite serious, as you can imagine.”

Aizawa wouldn’t be opposed to a Nomu slamming his head into the ground a few more times. Maybe one could just come and finish the job for good this time. All he wanted was one freaking day of peace. Goddamit Bakugou.

A serious catalyzing event, yet some of the best wry humor I’ve encountered.

rule 02: stay (M, 23.6K) by @altinsky - The vampire leans in close, expression utterly business-like in its seriousness.

And the last thing Katsuki remembers is the feeling of a tongue touching the bleeding wound at the juncture of his throat, the feeling of inexplicable anger, the fleeting thought of — this guy is so fucking dead — and then, nothing.

(or: katsuki is a vampire hunter who, thanks to a series of misfortunate circumstances and his potent werewolf's blood, somehow ends up striking a deal with the most aggravating vampire in existence)

As I rule I don’t particularly like creature!fics, but this fic, perhaps inspired by the BNHA Halloween art, captivated me. Great use of canonical elements in an AU.

Starting Over From Ground Zero (E, 38.5K) by @xenophonspeaking and HyacinthAtropa - What would their relationship have been like, if Bakugou’s pride hadn’t stood in the way? Would they have been friends, or would things have mostly stayed the same? Would Bakugou have been happier, more open and honest about his feelings and wants and needs as a person? Would he have accepted and even appreciated the comfort others offered him, rather than always keeping people at arm’s-length in an effort to maintain an image of independence and strength?

Todoroki didn’t know.

He didn’t know. But he wanted to.

Abruptly, like a bolt of lightning, he realized he actually had the chance to find out.

(Or: that one where Bakugou has temporary amnesia and Todoroki is tasked with caring for him until his memory returns, but ends up falling in love with the part of Bakugou that Bakugou has always kept hidden away instead.)

For obvious reasons XenophonSpeaks was one of the first Todobaku writers I discovered, and this is one of my two favorite fics from a talented writer. I’ve been pleased, though not surprised, to see its kudos steadily rising over the months. A sweet getting together story, great use of the amnesia trope, hot lovemaking.

then, be mine. (M, 32.5K) by TDRKBKGO - The way things always trucked onwards despite the ruthlessness of it was a constant fucking boulder in Katsuki’s smooth machinery because he had no time. One thing happened after another and he was content, of course - he didn't want to stand still. In fact, that was probably the one thing he couldn't stand the thought of doing. But it meant leaving things behind.

This fic should have hundreds more kudos. I want to write a love letter to this writer, if it wouldn’t be super creepy. One of my favorite tropes — getting back together — angsty, some of the best-written (though not necessarily the smuttiest) smut I’ve read in BNHA.

Tracing the Sharp Edge of You (T, 4.7K) by hellsinki - “Why do you hate Midoriya so much?”

“Why do you fucking ask? Why not just assume?”

Why not just assume? He had tried that, but something just didn’t add up.

“Because it doesn’t fit your profile.”

This is my take on the reason behind Bakugou’s rocky relationship with Deku based on their canonical interactions, set in a soft todobaku narrative. It’s not what you have been reading up in the fandom, but this is what I think could be a very plausible reason. Fair warning: Not exactly Deku-friendly.            

This is a Todobaku fic, but it is actually a fascinating take on Bakugou’s relationship with Midoriya. If you read the comments you can see that a lot of readers didn’t understand (or appreciate) what the writer was doing. A refreshing read that I return to when I want something different.

Without Hesitation (T, 8.2K) by @xenophonspeaking - The first time Bakugou told Todoroki he was in love with him, he thought he’d die.

My other candidate for favorite fic from XenophonSpeaks. This fic makes my angst-loving heart sing, and there are some great ensemble comedic moments.

Yellow Umbrella (G, WIP) by veemon - When Todoroki’s interest finally catches Bakugous attention it may be too late for them to make up.

I adore this fic, and it launched my obsession with manipulative!Midoriya. I eat that shit up now. A rare G-rated abo story. I can’t wait until it updates.

you are my sun. (T, WIP) by TDRKBKGO -  “‘Why’d he have to go and become the Moon’, he said"  Shouto leans forward where he sits in a cherry tree on the verge of springing into full blossom, rubbing his temples.  

“Because he went and became the Sun.”

This fic blew my mind, and it’s breaking my heart that it hasn’t been updated in months. I was speechless when I finished the first chapter. Bakugou’s the sun, and Todoroki’s the moon, and the way the story maps onto canon is extraordinary.

[alittlepieceofwarcraft]

Heart Versus Head

Year 33

Katherine Proudmoore was a regal woman in all respects. Her military garb wasn’t a mere costume: it encompassed everything about the Lord Admiral from the sleek material complimenting her sharp mind to the pair of sturdy sea boots personifying her stoic expression. She was not dressing as a naval leader: she very clearly was a naval leader. An impressive feat for a widower and mother of three in the trying times of power struggles and corruption. An elven companion did not seem a likely choice for her. While she demonstrated the sea fairing, smooth clock-work fashion her fleets worked in at a single glance, Mywin was possibly the opposite. Shoulder length pine hair was twisted into elaborate elven braids whereas Katherine’s silver locks were tightly plaited into a practical style. The druid wore far more basic attire, practically indistinguishable from all common folk, a white tunic shirt and brown leggings. The only remarkable thing she bore was the gnarled staff strapped behind her, encrested with chunks of sparkling crystal. Katherine inclined her head in the direction of the elf and nodded in acknowledgement. She’d been scratching on a parchment, a large feather quill tightly gripped in a gloved hand, sombrely scribbling across the scroll with a sense of great sincerity.

“I am pleased you have arrived Ambassador.” Katherine propped the quill on its stand and swivelled around in her armchair.

“I am pleased you called, Lord Admiral,” the elf replied. She stood straight, arms formally crossed behind her back, legs apart in a ceremonial stance.

“Katherine, please. What may I call you?”

“My people called me Mywin, ma’am.” Katherine mused for a minute, coxing her head slightly as if learning foreign word. She leaned back in her seat and gave a long sigh. The Kul Tiran leader was clearly exhausted after the events that had proceeded her: the prosecution of her only daughter, the dangers lurking in her nation, the betrayal of an old friend. Though she gave a warm smile, her eyes appeared drained, almost lost.

“That is a not Common name yet you speak the language with articulacy. What is your native tongue?” The elf didn’t respond at once, a little surprised at the turn of conversation. After a moment or two, she cleared her throat.

“Thank you, ma’am... Darnassian, ma’am.” Katherine stroked her chin, deep in thought.

“Interesting. The world is wide and full of many different peoples. Mine travelled the sea for ages, yet we did not know how to interact with others. Until my daughter...”. Her eyes flashed, a darkness striking through a fatigued gaze with a memory she most likely wanted to forget. Mywin was familiar with the life of Lady Jaina and her estrangement to her family that still strongly festered throughout the years. A long pause followed her words until she turned, giving another affectionate but inquisitive expression towards the elf. “Your mother. Do you ever feel she doesn’t support you if you choose different?” The elf this time responded without pause.

“My mother is dead, ma’am.”

Katherine’s heart nearly missed a beat and felt the strongest urge to kick herself. Mywin’s face remained calm, neutral. The question did not seem the phase her, however the randomness of it appeared to place her on edge. Her silver eyes scanned from one side of room to another, awkwardly hoping the conversation to end. Katherine leaned forward, both hands tightly clasped together upon her knees.

“Forgive me. I did not intend to cause you upset.” Mywin shook her head.

“It was many years ago and I was much younger. She died a hero’s death. She was a mighty Sentinel and fought to protect my people.” Katherine wasn’t sure what a Sentinel was but didn’t press the matter. Instead, she closed her eyes a and nodded solemnly, conveying the respect she believed this night elf must deserve. “Are you asking for Jaina?” Katherine’s head jerked up, clearly a little embarrassed her masked enquiries had been so easy to see through. She let out a small laugh, leaning back into her chair.

“I was not discrete enough it appears... I must confess. Priscilla’s treachery has left me with must distrust and hopelessness for my nation. I don’t know who to rely on, who I can count on. King Greymane is imploring me to free Jaina from her judgement. I don’t know what to do as a leader. I don’t know what to do as a mother.” Another silence strained as Mywin realised that she was being asked to provide advice to the ageing woman. Advice about her only daughter.

“Lady Jaina is a strong warrior,” She began, “passionate and loving. She gave great aid to my people when my birthplace was under siege from the demon threat and my shan’do speaks well of her.”

“Shan’do?” Katherine extended.

“Malfurion,” Mywin explained before continuing on, “My Priestess also. She specially assigned our warrior Pained to guard her. She rarely left your daughter’s side until she met her end at Theramore, to which the lady mourned her loss bitterly.” Katherine pursed her lips. Jaina had come to Kul Tiras following the city’s destruction begging for aid in revenge and she’d been turned away. Clearly agonised by her people’s obliteration, hungry for what she saw as justice. It was plain she deeply cared about them. Katherine nodded as the elf spoke, taking in each word in serious consideration.

“Jaina has always been a sensitive soul. But what about strategy and honour? Has she displayed these qualities in battle? Can she be trusted to lead a force?” Mywin wanted to wince at the Admiral’s words. A deep conflict was running within the Kul Tiran leader, that was obvious: a deep love for her daughter and a need to justify to her people why she would be pardoned. Why she had been forgiven.

“May I speak freely, ma’am?”

“Katherine,” she repeated and gestured to a chair opposite, sensing the conversation would be more intense than planned. Mywin nodded gratefully and approached to sit herself before the Admiral.

“Katherine. My people have a saying: ‘Andu-falah-do’: it means, ‘let the balance be restored’. A wide rift has severed your family for too long and the choices of the past haunt you both. Jaina is a strong and loving leader who follows her heart. You are equal in power and steadfast in the laws of your people, using your mind. You and her compliment each other like night and day and should she prevail and live, the things you could impart upon her would result in a balanced leader... and a balanced family.” Katherine allowed the elf to speak, talking in every word and point carefully. When she had finished, Mywin thought she may have seen a welling up of tears in the corner of her eyes, but Katherine had turned her head and poised herself.

“You are indeed wise for one so young.” Mywin chuckled.

“On the contrary ma’am, I am just over a century.” Katherine’s eyebrows raised in amazement yet she snapped out of it quickly.

“Well then, my young-old Ambassador. You shall tell me more of your fascinating people as we attempt to track down my daughter.”

*Shando: “honoured teacher”.

[h-eckers]

Not Northside Material - Part 2

A/N: Y’all are amazing and the support for the first part of this was awesome and I love you all so here is part 2! I hope ya still like it, the other parts are already coming together and I tells ya it gets good (I think). 

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Summary: Sweet Pea introduces himself and his friends to the new girl and it puts Jughead on edge… almost as if that was his intention.

Word Count: 2,849

Warnings: Still just Swears and Serpents

“How long did that take?” Jughead asked, awe in his voice and on his face as Y/N laughed at his bewilderment. 

“This part took about four hours, but it goes down my arm and across my back a bit, the whole thing took about twelve.” She grinned proudly, she was always more than willing to show off her tattoo, but seeing as she wasn’t about to entirely remove her shirt she simply stretched the neck of her shirt to show it to Jughead. 

“Nice ink, new kid.” His voice came suddenly, as did his presence as he took the seat next to her. He sat closer, closer than she was comfortable with considering she’d never met him before. Sweet Pea only smirked as she tried to shuffle away slightly, readjusting her top.  

“Thanks.” She mumbled awkwardly, her attempts to get further away were stopped when another girl took up the seat next to her, effectively boxing her in. The rest of the serpents gathered around, she tried her best not to give into the urge to get up and leave. 

“You can call Sweet Pea by the way.” He grinned, holding out his hand for her to shake, Jughead was already on edge, he didn’t like the way he was looking at her. 

“Your name is Sweet Pea?” She asked, with a slight disbelief. She glanced over at Jughead for confirmation that she wasn’t being messed with, Jughead only nodded tightly. “Okay… My name’s Y/N.” The smile that graced her lips then, as she shook the tall Serpents hand, was sweet and unsuspecting. This was going to be far too easy.  

“So I guess Jones has invited you to our little gang.” Sweet Pea grinned, shuffling close to her again, she was trapped between him and Toni, forced to allow him closer even as her cheeks heated up. 

“Sweet Pea.” Jughead’s voice was warning across the table, his eyes dark with a suspicion that only served to made Sweet Pea smile wider. 

He could see how it got under his skin, when he asked about her earlier he’d seen it first, the way Jughead’s posture changed like he was ready to fight, the way he almost glared at the mere mention of Sweet Pea interacting with her. Maybe it was because she reminded him of his Northside Barbie, maybe he knew her better than he said he did, or maybe (as Sweet Pea himself expected) Jughead still didn’t trust the Serpents around his precious Northsiders. No matter the reason, he had shown his protectiveness over her the minute he shoved off that Ghoulie, and now she was Sweet Pea’s one way ticket to getting under his skin and have fun doing it. 

“What? I’m just having a conversation with our new friend.” He laid on the innocence, and it fooled no one. Y/N had to look up to actually make eye connect, he was so tall and she was barely average height. 

“I don’t think I’m part of your gang.” The laugh that followed was simply amused as she raised an eyebrow towards the tall Serpent, looking him up and down slowly. He was definitely pretty, there was no doubt about it, but he was cocky, and boys like that are just asking to be taken down a peg or three. 

“Of course not,” he shrugged, leaning against the table, smirking towards the boy in the beanie a few feet away, “but your boy Jones just told the whole school that we adopted you, so at least for now, you’re our responsibility.” 

That got to him. Maybe more than anything else that could have been said. For a moment, images of his initiation flashed through Jughead’s mind in rapid succession, up until the moment when Sweet Pea took that last hit, even in his memory that went in slow motion, his whole body fighting the urge to convulse at the mere thought of the pain. Then he imagined Y/N standing there in the raining, already heaving for breath and crying, blood dripping from her lips and nose as she tried to speak to ask him to stop but couldn’t find the strength. Then he imagined that sick grin on Sweet Pea’s face, as he took that final hit that would send her to the ground, the pain she would be in, the regret she would feel, how much she would hate him, Jughead, for dragging her into this. That image in his head alone was enough to make him flinch in real life, exactly the reaction a tall Serpent across the table had been fishing for. 

“Thanks but my parents didn’t disown me, so I don’t need adopting.” She left out the part where her parents kicked her out, and all but left her to fend for herself, “As for being your ‘responsibility’ I wouldn’t burden yourself, I know how to look after myself, I’m a big girl.”  

“Oh come on, it’s not that serious!” Sweet Pea teased, turning back to her and nudging her slightly, she tried to maintain the serious look on her face, but it was hard when he was smiling at her like that. “I’m just saying that you’re with us now, nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, unless a Ghoulie catches you alone.” Fangs sneered earning a laugh from all of his friends, except Jughead. Y/N didn’t see what was funny about the prospect of her being beaten, her smile dropped back into nothing. 

“That’s not funny.” Jughead mumbled, it was barely audible, but apparently enough so that everyone at the table heard him. 

“I think it’s hilarious.” Fangs snarled. Y/N’s fingers curled so tightly into fists that the colour drained from her knuckles. Being threatened didn’t sit well with her, people upsetting her friends made her even angrier. 

“Ooh, someone’s getting mad.” Sweet Pea chuckled, watching her hide her hands immediately, her cheeks flushing with a certain kind of fury. 

“Shut up.” Jughead jumped in before anyone else could speak, even that helped ease some of the tightness that had suddenly attacked her system, “Just leave her alone, guys.” 

“They’re just playing, Y/N.” Toni interjected, smiling brightly and apologetically. 

“Yeah, we’re just having fun.” Sweet Pea said, leaning back comfortably. In all honesty, neither Y/N not Jughead were comfortable with this kind of ‘fun’ yet, she was too new for it to be playful, they didn’t know enough about her to joke. The tension only eased a fraction. 

“That’s good,” Y/N finally let herself smirk, figuring it was best to play along than get in the bad side of a gang, “seeing as I could kick any of their asses, even on a bad day…” 

“You sure about that, princess?” Fangs chuckled, “You don’t look the type.” 

“Oh I’m sure,” her eyes narrowed as she paused, looking over Fangs as though she was appraising him before she scoffed, “in fact, I don’t think there’s a single person in here I couldn’t beat into the ground.” 

Fangs eyes narrowed dangerously only for a second as silence feel around them, and after that second, the whole group burst out in laughter, Y/N and Jughead included this time. “You’re alright, you know.” Fangs chuckled softly, rolling his eyes, “I already like you more than Jones.”

“Hey, back off Fangs, I already called dibs on this one.” Sweet Pea grinned at her, winking when she shook her head. Watching Jughead’s brow furrow again only made that smugness in his eyes brighter. 

“Yeah, keep dreaming, Sweets.” She mumbled back, meeting his eyes. For a fleeting second he felt something shift in his chest, like when you move your weight from one foot to another. He ignored it, pushed it to the back of his mind like most things he felt that weren’t anger or an urge to create chaos. 

He went to respond, to say something witty and definitely flirtatious, something that would have Jughead grinding his teeth and balling his fists. Unfortunately, his plan was thwarted by the school bell ringing out through the lunch room. There wasn’t a second wasted before Y/N stood and started gathering her things. 

“Woah, so eager to go and be bored.” Fangs said, neither he nor any of the other serpents seemed in any rush. 

“Not necessarily, but I’m eager not to be kicked out of the only other bearable school in the area.” She smiled, waving goodbye as she walked away before the conversation could go further, and the group shared a look that was full of a million different question, about her statement and honestly just her in general. Jughead didn’t stay long, scrambling after her, closely followed by Toni who was entirely too interested by the new girl and Jughead’s attitude towards her. 

They caught up to her quickly, and the moment they all fell into step with each other Jughead was already talking, “I don’t know what Sweet Pea’s problem is, I’m sorry Y/N.” 

“He’s fine,” she laughed softly, patting Jughead’s shoulder reassuringly, “to be honest I figured the Serpents and I would end up fighting, not joking around with each other.” 

“Fighting isn’t all we do, you know?” Toni tried to keep her voice light, she didn’t dislike Y/N yet but she still had that Northsider privilege shining through. 

“Oh no, not because of you guys, because of me.” She responded quickly, Toni blinked a few times in surprise; that was definitely not what she had expected. 

“Is that why you left Riverdale?” Toni asked, curious to know more about her now since she was here and Jughead basically just inducted her into a gang without warning.  

“Yeah, I kept getting into fights with this guy Chuck, he’s a creep and he was harassing some of my friends. They expelled me because they always thought I was the one who started it.” She explained, it was so casual how she spoke about it that for a minute they might be convinced she was from the Southside, she’d certainly already proven she fit in. 

“Why’d they think that?” Jughead asked. 

“Because I was always the one who started it.” Y/N shrugged, “So I had to choose between some uptight boarding school in Greendale or here.” 

“And you chose here?” Toni almost laughed at that, never in her life would she expect these words to be coming out of a Northsiders mouth and it was highly satisfying to hear. 

“Uhm, I’d pick the Southside over Greendale any day.” She looked over at Toni, it almost her to see how surprised she was, how happy she was that Y/N had immediately started dishing out shallow insults, it made her wonder how many times Toni had been spoken down to, because of where she came from. 

“Either way, I wouldn’t worry, the boys will mess with you at first but they’ll get over it.” That was reassuring, if only she had an estimate of how long it would be until they laid off. 

“Hopefully it doesn’t last long,” Jughead mumbled, as though reading her mind. 

“It’s not that bad.” Y/N laughed, smiling reassuringly at the boy beside her as she started to peel off to head to her class, “Let them do their best, and I’ll give them my worst.” She grinned, waving at them as she turned to walk away. 

“See ya, Y/N.” Toni called after her, still chuckling from what she’d said, “I like her.” She said concisely once she was alone with Jughead, the both of them aimlessly wandering the halls at this point, Jughead’s brow furrowed in thought. 

 “I think Sweet Pea’s trying to get under my skin.” He grumbled. 

“I think it’s working, too.” Toni chuckled, “Don’t forget, you’re new as well Jug. Besides, Serpent or not, Sweet Pea isn’t your biggest fan.” 

“I know that, but messing with Y/N is a bit far, don’t you think?” He pulled off his beanie, running his free hand through his hair. 

“Not really, to be honest. She’s cute, Sweet Pea’s a bit of an ass, and you’re clearly protective of her. It makes sense.” In Toni’s mind the whole situation was obvious, and it would be in Jugs as well if he wasn’t so close to the situation that all it did was stress him out. “By the way, why is that? I thought you weren’t close.” 

Jughead paused for a moment, sighing heavily, “We aren’t actually, or I mean, I was friends with her in preschool, and we’ve hung out before when we ran into each other at Pop’s. I guess we were friends, I just didn’t really talk to that many people.” 

“If you were barely friends, why are you being so protective?” There wasn’t even a full minute in which Jughead might formulate an answer before Toni scoffed, coming to her own conclusion, “You don’t want her to end up in the Serpents.” 

“It’s not that simple, Toni.” Jughead rubbed his face, all his stress and worry coming through in his voice. 

“Oh come on, admit it, you’re worried another Northside princess is gonna fall prey to our big bad gang.” The words were tough and somehow her voice still managed to sound sad and betrayed, weighing on his chest. 

“No, honestly I don’t want her to join.” He stopped walking, turning to his friend with tired eyes, “I’m sick of watching my friends get hurt, and If I had to see her walk down that line up I don’t know if I could take it, enough people have been hurt, Toni.” 

Recognition flashed across her face, quickly followed by understanding. “Jughead you don’t have to worry, she doesn’t want to be a Serpent, and we aren’t going to hurt her. Look you don’t have to worry, they’ll lay off soon, he’s just trying to rile you up and as long as it’s working he’s not gonna stop.” 

———————————————————

Meanwhile, Y/N had managed to find herself entirely lost and slightly disoriented by the number of students who forced their way through the halls, pushing and shoving her in every direction. Never had she felt more empathetic to the ball in a pinball machine. 

She was finally under the impression that she had found her bearings when the boy who had attempted to approach her earlier rammed into her shoulder, “In the way already, Serpent slut.” He hissed at her, she stumbled back slightly, trying to rationalise what he had said, by the time she had started speaking, he had started walking away, and so instead of holding her tongue; she raised her voice. 

“Ex-fucking-scuse youff-“ The last word was muffled as someone’s arm wrapped around from behind her, covering her mouth with their hand. Y/N forced the arm away, spinning quickly to face who dared stifle her. She might have started yelling if she weren’t greeted by a familiar face. 

“Calm down, firecracker, you need to watch your mouth.” Sweet Pea mumbled, his face was neutral, or at least he wasn’t overtly frowning, or smiling, but somehow that plain expression on his face was even more terrifying. His eyes were cast over her shoulder, watching the Ghoulie walk away. 

“You need to watch your hands.” She grunted, pushing Sweet Pea’s hand off her arm, that was when he smiled, that smirk breaking through as he looked back to her. 

“You might want to be nice to me if you want help finding your class.” He stepped forward, invading her personal space again, this time she stood her ground. If this is how they messed around then she was willing to play along. 

“What makes you think I can’t find it?” Her eyebrow raised as she folded her arms across her chest. 

“You left the table before anyone else and you and I are the only two out of class.” He pointed out, and her expression faltered, mainly because he was entirely correct. She ran her hand through her hair and Sweet Pea took a small, almost unnoticeable step back, ‘why does she smell so good?’ The thought went as fast as it came, but it had been there none the less. It was like springtime in those bad movies he refused to watch, or expensive shampoo that made him cringe when he saw the price tag. It was most likely the later. 

“Okay, if I admit I’m stuck would you actually help me?” She questioned, her eyes narrowing. 

“Maybe, maybe not, either way you don’t really have another choice,” the corners of his lips quirked, “unless you want to wander around until the lessons over.” 

There was no smart response to that, not really. She was totally lost and apparently without an escort she was out to get herself killed or in the very least, into a very violent collision with a Ghoulie.  

“Fine, show me the way, Sweets.” She hummed, clicking and making little gun motions with her fingers. Sweet Pea scoffed quietly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

“How do you go from screaming curses to finger guns?” He asked, trying not to seem too wildly amused. 

“It’s a talent few possess, now seriously, take me to class.” 

“Damn, alright princess.” 

tags: @thekillingquill @southsidepea @half-and-halfxx @u-unloved @kytty27 @kaethec @undercoverentp @bands-messed-me-up @m-a-u-r-aa @fanficapriciation @im5-tw @superoptimist1997 @oceanxtid3ss @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack @penisprkr @dreamersshouldknowbetter @bettycoopxr @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @deanilostmyshoe @sugarbby99 @sweet-peas-tattoo @justateenagefangirl0616 @itszehraa @allison-rosewood-maximoff

[sithlordintraining]

She’s No Angel (Part 25)

A/N: Guys it’s Spring Back and I got an 88 on my test!!!

tagged:  @hoe-for-kylo  @rebeccamaximoff

She’s No Angel Masterlist

Phasma stormed down the hallway with her blaster tight against her armored-chest. Everyone either scurried out of the hallway or was pressed against the walls with eyes averted as Phasma, Hux, Lucky, and you, made their way down the hallway. You were sandwiched between Phasma and Lucky, with Hux by your side holding your hand extremely tight. It was between comfortably tight and punishingly tight. The walk to the hangar seemed longer than usual and the pressure in the back of your head didn’t make it any better. Finally, the four made it to the transport; Phasma and Lucky stood by letting the General and Ambassador walk up the ramp. “I will contact once we make it onto the Supremacy.” Hux told Phasma. Even though Lucky’s helmet was on, you knew his eyes were on you. You forced a small smile on your face before the ramp closed.

You’ve never seen Hux so nervous, even though it was small twitches and movements, it was a lot for him. It was a simple transport and didn’t require much time so Hux took this time to talk to you about the Supreme Leader. “Supreme Leader is a very...powerful man and expects to be treated as one.” He started off slowly. “You will bow when in front of him, not to close, not to far. The floor is reflective, when you start to see the red from the walls show, stop and bow.” You nodded. “He will ask you questions and you will answer all of them truthfully, you hear me?” His blue eyes shifted until you answered with a yes. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t scared; after today’s events and Hux’s strange behavior, you just wanted to wake up from this bad dream. “Don’t speak, unless spoken too. Don’t move, unless commanded. Do not think thoughts that will be reprimanded. Address him as Supreme Leader, be careful never let your guard down.” Hux rambled as his fingers moved to fix your appearance. His fingers began to shove the greatcoat off you. “Don’t wear this. He will use it as...a weapon.” He gulped, folding it and hiding it in a compartment. He continued to talk until the transport landed. Opening the door, two large Praetorian guards stood with weapon in hand. One guard looked at the General and nodded. You watched the silent interaction, before Hux began to follow one and the other signal for you to follow them.

Kylo and Hux stood in front of Supreme Leader Snoke. They always dreaded this, but this day was possibly worse than losing to the Resistance. “I’ve never thought the day, that you two would work together would be for the protection of some girl.” Snoke’s beady eyes looked between them, as they hung their head low. “Tell me, who is she?” He asked and none of them answered. Snoke fist collided with his throne creating a thunderous roar. “She’s the Ambassador-at-large, former Chief Consultant to the First Order and Galactic Relations. She graduated a year early, top of her class at the academy-” Hux told Snoke. “Even with a late start.” Snoke hummed, causing Hux to stop talking. Silence filled the air as he looked between his two minions. “She seems to know the right men t-DO NOT LET YOUR FEELINGS INTERFERE, GENERAL!” Snoke’s bony fingers clenched tightly as the ginger clawed at his throat. Kylo watched from the side eye, with his head still hanging low. He released him and Hux began to get his breath back. “It’s strange how you care so deep, yet would allow her a relationship with a man you despise so much. I see you think of her as a possible successor, but haven’t had the time, focusing on the production of the base.” Snoke hummed. “Understandable.” Snoke now looked at Kylo. “And you promote her to Ambassador for her to fall for you? Your feelings still guide you; is there anything you’d like to say?” His eyes watched his apprentice before sighing. “Clearly, you still are a child, with or without the mask. Bring in the girl.” The doors slid open and you followed the Praetorian guard until they began to move to the side. You remember Hux’s hint and when you began to see red, you kneeled down. “Supreme Leader,”

Snoke’s eyes watched over you. “You’ve taught her well, General.” Snoke chuckled. “Rise, my child.” Y/N did as he pleased. “Come closer,” He beckoned. You took a few steps standing behind Hux and Ren. Snoke’s fingers beckoned you to come closer. You walked closer to his throne as Kylo and Hux watched you with wary eyes. He stepped down from his throne causing you to stop. He was extremely tall as he began to tower over you as he proceeded to move towards you. You held his blue-eyed gaze as his face contorted into an emotion you couldn’t put your finger on. “You respectfully fear me.” A light chuckle fell from his lips. “I commend you.” Both the men, looked at each other as Snoke continued with Y/N. Snoke tilted his head at you. “Something about you, I find...interesting.” He told her, before he raised his hand to her head. As if on cue, Y/N opened her mind to Snoke. The two men watched as amazement filled the Supreme Leader’s face, a sight they’ve never seen before. Snoke’s eyes then fell on the two men. “Leave us.”

Kylo and Hux made their way out of the throne room and down to empty corridor with a large window where you could see the Apocalypse surrounded by a litter of stars. There was a strong silence between the men as Hux stood by watching the stars. Hux could feel Kylo’s eyes bore in the back of his head. “What is it?” Hux voice clipped. For the first time, Hux heard Kylo’s voice in the softest tone ever. “Are you in love with Y/n?” Hux turned to shoot him a disgusted look. “Ren are you serious! Yes, I love her!” He grumbled taking a seat on the empty white couch. “Like a father loves a daughter.” He sighed. Kylo’s brown gaze was steady on Hux’s relaxed figure. “Everyone knows that Grand Admiral Sloane protected me from Brendol, but no one knows that I was usually in the care of Lead Commodore L/N.” Hux squeezed the bridge of his nose with the tip of his fingers. “Y/N’s mother was a maternal figure for me despite Sloane’s request. You can say there was always a soft spot for Y/N because of the impact of her mother. I never liked him.” He snarled “Her father, a Commodore on another fleet.” He looked into the distance. “I met Y/N when she was three, after he had pressured Lead Commodore to step down and focus on their ‘family’. At the same time, speculations of his loyalty started to arise, hence the visit to their new living arrangement on an ally planet.” His lips tugged up into a rare smile that Hux had only granted Y/N and Phasma to see.“She was terribly smart for her age, in-tuned with everyone and her surroundings, curious, like all children but on a deeper level.” A full smile was now plastered on his face. “She had the chubbiest cheeks and wore two curly puffs and used to call me Armie. Besides helping the foundation of the First Order, the only good thing Brendol ever done was warn her of her traitorous husband.” Kylo’s head tilted. “Her mother?” His voice had shaken something in Hux and could see it as his blue eyes shifted. “Yes” He sighed. “They were able to flee before the persecution as Y/N’s father denounced the Empire and siding with the scums, but it still was there even in her absence.” Hux eyes casted down to peer at his bony hands.

“But then you saved them.” Kylo said, wanting Hux to continue with his story. “No, I found Y/N at the academy. How she got in with her name still questions me till this day, but when I saw her, I knew I had to protect her. It’s the only way I could repay her for everything she’s done.” Hux sighed again. “What happened to her mother? Did she remember you? Was her hire intentional?” Kylo inquired. Hux shot him daggers at the last question as his eyes started to redden. “NO, the position needed to be filled and out of all the applicants they gave me she was best fit. The only problem was she wasn’t of age, but an exception would be made to wait a year. She graduated earlier than expected and was one of the reasons I became her superior and guardian. She didn’t recognize me, she was too young to remember.” Kylo could see the memory Hux was playing in his mind:

You stood across from Hux in your light gray academy uniform. Hux was there listening to your answer to the question he had recently asked. But he was more focused on how much you looked like your father but were everything like your mother, it scared him. “General?” Your (y/e/c) seemed like bright beams piercing his soul. “Y/N,” He said slowly, which took you by surprised because he always called you by L/N. “You have the job, it’s yours.” A smile lit up your face, his as well because it was your mother’s smile. “You have your mother’s smile.” He said and it took you off guard. “I-I used to, she used to take care of me, as well as Sloane. I don’t know if she’d talk about that.” Hux stammered afraid he had scared the girl. “I used to come visit as often as I could, do you remember, you used to call me Armie.” Your chest started to rise as your brows furrowed. Out of character, Hux began to softly sing the lullaby that your mother sang to you every night and soon you fell in tune with him. A soft smile and a few tears spread across both their faces. “She’s dead.” Was all you said before the dream stopped.

There was a pressure in the back of his head and Kylo knew they were being summoned back. Kylo and Hux made their way to the throne room only to hear a strange sound. “Is that,” Hux scrunched his face up. “Laughter?” The blast doors slid open to reveal a disturbing sight: Snoke’s smile. Kylo and Hux walked in with a look of confusion on their face as Y/N quieted her laughter. “I see why you were drawn to her. A mind like hers has the perfect balance of control, allowing her to make decisions by letting her knowledge, emotions, and experience help her find the right one. You could learn something from her Kylo, because of this I will let your relations continue.” Kylo looked away from his master trying to hide his thoughts. “Your talents have been wasted my child, though your contributions will not go unnoticed.” “Thank you,” You nodded. “You will no longer be an Ambassador, under close advisement you will be a Lieutenant General.” Your face lit up at the words of the Supreme Leader. Hux watched as you gave him a bright smile that reminded him of how your mother would look. He was happy, truly happy, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t want Y/N getting involved with Snoke. “Thank you Supreme Leader, I-I won’t let you down.” You smiled brightly cause his lips to twist into a crooked smile. “I know you won’t my child. The two of you will be staying on the Supremacy for a week.” Snoke told Hux and Y/N, his gaze then turned to his apprentice. “Is there anything you’d like to say?” All eyes were on Kylo as he just stood there shaking his head. “Ren you’re dismissed.” Kylo nodded and turned giving you one last look. You couldn’t help but feel hurt as he looked at you as if you were his enemy.

Kylo was stepping on the transport when he heard his name being called. He turned around to see you running up to him. Hux stood a few feet back giving you enough space, but close enough to still observe your safety. Kylo took a step back into the transport to allow you space and to keep the pair from watchful eyes. Your breathing was heavy and he could feel your emotions hit him in fluctuating waves as he stood in front of you. He hadn’t felt this from you in a long time. Your small hands took both of his in yours as you looked at him with watery eyes. “I’m going to miss you.” You said trying to hold back tears. “I just don’t know if I, if we should keep doing this.” The tears started to stream down your face. “I love you Kylo, I just-” You began to choke on your tears. “I...I don’t want you to hate me, Kylo. I just don’t know what to do.” Kylo’s hand softly touched your cheek and you melted in his touch. “We will make it work.” He wiped the tears from your face. Kylo watched as you exited the ship and it watched it depart from your spot. The things you said and the emotion that poured off of you had really affected him, even if you couldn’t see it. And you loved him, after everything, you loved him! It had been the second time those three words had left your lips, so why he couldn’t say them to you?

It was a whole week without you and Kylo didn’t know what to do with himself. He didn’t realize how much you had affected him. From the transport to the sector that housed all the high officers, his mind couldn’t stop thinking about how you loved him. How you were IN love with him. He still remembered when you first told him and it had shaken him to the core that he had to leave. And right now he was doing the same thing, even if he had no choice in staying on the Supremacy. But it was the second time you said and the second time he did nothing. If he continued this you would eventually leave him; between the first time and second time he had done so many things that could eventually lead to the downfall of their relationship. He waved his hand opening the blast doors and walking in. He let out a sigh, how could someone like you be in love with him? Love seemed so foreign to him, he had detached himself from affection when he crossed over to become Kylo. But somehow meeting you tapped into that unfilled part of his heart that he hadn’t received since he was a child with his mother. He used the force to start the water as he discarded his attire. He did really care for you but just went about it the wrong way; it was just sometimes his feelings were too much for him. Not to mention his journey to the dark side didn’t need a distraction from something as pure as you and the worst if Snoke had found out. But he had and it went way better in than expected. But Kylo wasn’t sure if he was in love with you as you were with him. The water collided with his muscles, looking up he saw himself in the mirror, sitting in your tub in your bathroom. Kylo was in YOUR room. At that moment he knew he did feel something for you and he had to show you how much you meant to him.

Kylo dedicated that whole week to finding you something perfect. If he wasn’t training or yelling at people, he was sulking in Y/N’s quarters using her bath and snuggling against her pillow taking in her scent. Every gift he had ever gotten you were Galaxy Buns, you loved them for sure, but now their relationship was straining and you were a Lieutenant General! Jewelry wouldn’t suffice because it wasn’t allowed. So he needed something better. It wasn’t until he was training that he realized the diplomatic missions that the two of you went on while you were the Ambassador would cease. You would no longer be by his side and that made Kylo sad. His full lips tugged down in a pout as his lightsaber slashed across the training bot. It was then when he thought about getting you your own droid. The droid would watch over you and keep you company when he was away. He wouldn’t just get it for you, he would build it for you! All the parts were delivered to your room where he worked on his free time to put the droid together. It was a BB-droid, BB-9 to be exact. Kylo was slightly excited to get his hands on this because deep down inside he couldn’t help the fact that he always found mechanics fascinating, one thing him and his grandfather’s former selves shared. It was getting close to your arrival and he was frustrated. He was a little rusty, but something wasn’t right. Every time he would move a wire or bolt, the droid would malfunction. Kylo hated the fact that he needed help and he only gave into calling a technician two days before you were due. He heard the knock and stalked his way to the blast door.

“You.” He peered down his angular nose. Large peridot eyes with swirls of yellow stared back at him. “Why are you here?” Kylo’s voice boomed. “I-I was told to-to report here, sir.” The difference in volume made her feel like a mouse. “Why?” He asked again. “I-I’m here to help with t-the droid, sir.” She stammered out. “I want another technician.” He crossed his arms. “I’m t-the only one c-certified in astromech d-droids, sir.” Kylo sighed and turned. “Of, course you are.” Serena took tentative steps into the room taking in the decor. Not to be judgemental but she believed it wasn’t bland enough to be the Commanders. It seemed open, bright, and inviting; she noticed small but luxurious trinkets that turned the stale First Order quarters into a home. The sunlight came through the washing into the large window highlighting a vase of white Alstroemerias. Her eyes turned a pale pink as she realized this wasn’t the Commander’s quarters. “This is Angel’s quarters!” She gasped, dropping her toolbox. Her hands brushed lightly over everything, observing like an excited child in a museum. “Don’t touch anything!” Kylo yelled causing her to freeze; he watched her blue eyes go to green then fade to yellow. He let out a huff before returning to the droid. “Now, if you’re ready to be professional, there’s something wrong with this droid. I’m doing everything correctly.” He lied. Serena nodded and took a look at the droid.

“Are you doing this for Angel, sir?” She asked. “She is your superior, address her as such!” Kylo scolded. “Are you doing this for the Ambassador, sir?” She asked peering up at him with orange orbs. “Yes, this is for the Lieutenant General.” He said. Her head cocked to the side before her eyes turned ultra pink. “SHE GOT PROMOTED!” Kylo watched as the girl excitement grew and began yelling about how perfect Y/N was and how she deserved it and how she couldn’t wait to tell everyone. “No, you can’t tell anyone!” He pointed at her. She shut her mouth and nodded. Kylo was thankful as she returned to look at the droid. “I see what happened,” Serena spoke. “You wired it wrong and the gears are in the wrong place.” Kylo took a step forward. “I did not.” His voice was loud. “Okay sir,” Her eyes went to tangerine. Kylo rolled his eyes and snatched the bot from her hand. “I’ll show you, I know EXACTLY what I’m doing.” Kylo began to take it apart and build it again. Serena watched with aurelion eyes unsure if she should tell the Commander that he was placing the parts in the wrong place. After a few minutes, he stopped and looked at her with annoyance. “STOP!” He yelled. “Your thoughts are so loud, you’re making me mess up!” Serena jumped back at his hiss. “I-I’m so-sorry, I just want to help.” Her voice fell soft on his ears and he sighed giving in. Serena did help but let the Commander build the droid since that was the whole point of the gift. Occasionally, she would take over as her fingers were much smaller and could fit in tight spots. Under those forty-eight hours, Kylo found her company okay. It was mainly because they talked about mechanics when it wasn’t about Angel. Kylo didn’t realize how much he missed these talks that he used to have very often when he was younger.

They spent the remaining cycles together fixing the BB unit as a team effort. He could sense that Serena was no longer anxious around him, but he didn’t need the force to tell him, he just had to look at her eyes. For a few hours, they turned navy and remained that color until he had ordered her lunch which turned indigo. “I have to use the bathroom, where is it?” Serena asked throwing her meal away. Kylo tilted his head. “You work on this ship you should know.” Kylo was fixated on the droid. “The public restroom is three corridors down! I’ll never make it!” She pleaded. He sighed. “Fine, it’s in the bedroom to the left...DO NOT… TOUCH ANYTHING!” Kylo yelled as the tech fell out of view. Serena walked into the large refresher with wide pink eyes. It was truly meant for someone like Angel, the grand tub, marble counters, wide mirrors, soft lighting. The only thing was all of her contents that stood on the sink were out of place, like if they were pushed out of the way. Probably Commander Ren, she thought. Without hesitation, she began to organize everything from size, color, and name. While doing this she almost dropped a glass bottle with a white ribbon on it. She caught it before it collided with anything. She took a closer look making out the symbols N1. Opening the cap her eyes turned burgundy. This was Angel’s scent. Of course, fragrance wasn’t allowed, but it was Angel, she could do whatever she wanted. The smell made Serena think that she tasted like sweet buttercream and fresh berries with a hint of cinnamon. She closed her eyes thinking of Angel’s smile as she could only dream of what it would be like to nuzzle into her neck and smell that smile every night and day. Looking at the bottle once more, she realized it was almost empty. Surely she wouldn’t be missing it, she probably had more; Serena secretly stuffed it inside the pant pocket of her tech suit.

She tried her best to walk out unsuspiciously. She was doing fine until his brown eyes locked with hers. “What does red mean?” Kylo wore a straight face as Serena’s face filled with a blush matching her eyes. “W-what?” She stammered. “Your eyes are red, well burgundy. When you’re scared they’re black, blue when relaxed, pink when you’re happy, green is so-so, orange confused, yellow anxious, what is red? You’ve never had red eyes.” Serena took in a deep breath. Something about the Commander taking such a deep notice and the bottle pressed against her leg stirred something inside her. “Let’s see if it works.” Her small finger pressed the button on the BB-unit causing it to stir and beep. A wide smile fell on Kylo’s pink lips. “We did it,” Kylo exclaimed and Serena nodded. “Yeah,” She whispered. The droid beeped. “He says thank you,” Kylo told her. “Yeah, yeah, I know. No problem little guy.” Serena smiled at the droid and moved to get her tools together as quickly as possible. Kylo remained on the floor watching her make her way out. “Technician,” Her title caused her stop, gulp, and turn. She knew she had been caught. “Thank you.” He bowed his head.

P.S.: That last part was supposed to be in 26, but 26 is LONGGGGGG. SAlso, I know it seems like I’m just throwing in a random character, but in the long run it will make sense. I promise. Hit me up with comments, concerns, jokes, reminding me that Kylo Ren passed out when he got a blowjob, anything. I miss talking to you guys. I JUST WANT TO STATE: Right now, from this point on, no matter what happens in the sequel trilogy, this series will end the way I want it to end. Events that I want to happen. People I choose to die. So if it is somewhat similar to the movie: I did it first. AND SUPER THANKFUL FOR ALL THE SNA FANS THOSE FROM THE BEGINNING AND THOSE TUNING IN NOW!!! I just want to say thank you for everything <3 (if anyone is still here

[pentopapertokeyboard]

The Man in Red

This is a short story that I have been working on for a while, I realize that it may not be accurate to folklore or even grammatically correct at the most of times. I like the story and what it represents and know that I am in need of much work. But please read it and see what you think, and If you like it tell me. And please let me know what worked for you and what didn’t. I enjoy the constructive criticism. So here it is...my first short story

 It had been a long time ago when he last wandered around this particular territory. Times change so fast that it seems naught but a blink of an eye. The man appeared nothing special, if not a little tall, pale in complexion, and it seemed a particular appetite for the colours of red and gold for he was adorned head to toe in it, upon his left hand there was a thin black lace glove. A small chuckle escaped his reddened lips as he scanned the horizon for his prize, the reason for his arrival. His bright eyes finally rested on a small tuft of hair and the small dirty boy it was attached to. A single thought swam in his mind.....Him... how? There seemed to be nothing special about him or the lonely stoop which he now occupied. He seemed to be 6 or 7 years of age with ebony skin and distinct lack of suitable clothing. Standing staring at the small child the Man's mind hearkened back to the beginning of his journey.

    What had started as a nondescript day watering his vast collection of plants and dusting the banisters once more, soon grew to be a most interesting day. After his daily chores he had been enjoying the solitary comfort of his library when he had felt it...the ache, the Tug. Of course he had tried to ignore it as he did the others but this one was persistent. It interrupted him. It barged in on his time of research, it wiggled in when he played his strings, it even floated before him in his bath. It would not leave...if anything it seemed to grow so that it became a physical problem as well, causing his arm to jerk and spill his carefully prepared tea. He came to the disappointing realization that soon HE would have to respond, and soon...a thought that left a dull copper taste in his mouth. Why copper even he did not know, all he knew is that it meant trouble, and right now trouble was waiting for him to find it. And so he decided “ The Solitary Faerie” must step into the light once more.

    Now after all this time he wondered if it was worth it. This is where the Tug brought him of that there was no doubt. He stood there unsure of himself for the first time in decades, embarrassed even. He was only comforted by the thought that this mortal could not lay eyes on him and see him vulnerable as he was. The Red Man regained his composure and walked the circumference of the child just to experiment, and sure enough the boy was the epicenter of his predicament. Interesting...He leaned closer to see if there was anything he might have missed underneath the dirt and the grime. To his astonishment the boy spoke.

“Did you come to help me?”

    The Red Man studied his surroundings only to find them in want of people. His eyes crept back to the boy and still he did not speak.

 “Mister did you hear me? I asked if you came to help me...please, did you?”. 

The Red Man stared in silence for what seemed like ages, slowly words poured out. The voice which spoke them was beautiful beyond belief as if layered with honey and milk, and yet there was a raspiness to it, as if years of neglect had left it rusted.

 “I heard you boy, how could I not?...with all your...cries.” 

The boy sniffled and wiped at his nose...lovely. 

“What I wish to know is how did your petition reach me? Huh? How did you summon me boy?” 

The boy looked up with deep eyes of brown and simply said

 “I called to you like daddy told me to, he said to only do it if I was in trouble and I am so I called to you and you came, you really came!”. 

Like his father had told him to do? Interesting. 

“Tell me child...what is your name?”

 ....”Stephen sir.”

. A light chuckle spilled from the man's lips

 “So polite, your parents taught you great manners.” 

At the mention of parents the boy visibly shifted and his eyes darted toward the small abode he stood outside of. It did not go unnoticed, and the Man tucked the information away for future use. 

“However Stephen, I need your full name...what is it?”

 “Pole sir, Stephen Jonathan Pole”

 …..Pole…. The name struck him with cold icy claws. The name was familiar to him….oh yes it was known… and without warning, without want, he remembered.

    He has walked the earth and beyond for many many years. In that time it was nigh impossible to not interact with humans and he took as many of his kind did and started to collect them. He would magic them away to his court to dance the nights and days away. Some became lovers until time marked them. Others became members of his court, mortal still but included none the less, and others still became no better than toys, trivial entertainments. Those that he brought with him were always forgotten or neglected, regulated to the background when someone new caught his ever fleeting attention. Not that he left them destitute, for they always remained in his realm within his court until death or insanity took them. It had been like this for as long as he could remember, that is until he met lady Catherine.

 Catherine Margaret Pole had been born in a small village miles far to the east, this regulated her to a farmer’s life, and that is the life she lived until he arrived. He had business that he cannot remember in a town whose name no longer matters. All that matters is when his deep eyes found hers. 

He was walking the path and happen to glance her during harvest time. Her caramel skin slick with sweat and grime, but that did not matter. He could see that she was beautiful, and he must acquire her. The memory brought about a twinge of discomfort. He approached her and worked the charm that never seemed to fail, asked about her name, and if she was looking for adventure and wonderment. To his amazement...it failed. In fact she wanted nothing to do with him. Such a blow to his pride had never happened before. 

He attempted a trade with her brother in exchange for a enchanted mirror. He bargained with her father for a good harvest. He tried with her mother so that she may spend one more year with her deceased parents. They all gave the same response. “We know what you are, and that is a bargain we cannot make, we know that a punishment from you may come swiftly , but only she has the power for such a thing.” Infuriated he returned home in a rage, but always seemed to have business in the village so that he would return. He tried again and again, until a full year passed. Never had one of the Fay been made to wait so long. When she refused bargain after bargain he grew bored and to fill the time he began to talk. 

At first her replies were short and curt. 

“What are you doing?” he would ask.

 “Working” came the reply. 

“Tell me child, what fills your time?” 

“Work” came quickly.

 “After work…” 

and sure enough the reply of “more work” would follow.

 “Tell me what do you desire more than anything in the world?”

 and a sharp retort of “silence” arrived .

But as time passed and his weariness grew, his questions started to change. Instead of asking merely about the facts of her life, he started to ask questions about her. To understand her more, something he had never done before. He learned many things about her. What her favorite flowers were (Moonflowers). Why she loved the taste of strawberries so much (her father grew them and they would eat them when she was but a child on the cool nights of summer), and what she hoped the future would bring (the return of her eldest brother from a far off war).

His perspective changed and he felt himself changing more and more as he spent time with her. He neglected his court and spent less and less time in his barrow. He had been caught by those eldest of magics, love. Something he had never experienced nor had he thought was capable of experiencing. Love was something for weak mortals to fill their short lives with and that was it. But here it was, and here he was. He soon started bringing gifts, without expectation of something in return. Books, food, and enchanted items soon found themselves in the Pole household. He started taking her to exotic locations and made sure to return her the very same day. He did something he never would have thought possible, he did physical labor in order to help her finish her duties. That one almost broke him and he almost left for good the hour after they had finished, but he ended up staying. 

After one year had passed, he received a kiss. Nothing big, nothing grand, a simple kiss on the cheek. He did not wrap it in enchantments or seal it away to trade for later, he merely took it in and cherished it. Looking deep into her eyes he said 

“You have set my very blood aflame, and so to your blood I grant a boon, you need only call to me and I shall be there.” 

She smiled a deep smile that set her eyes alight and laughed. 

“I have no need of a boon, as long as you are around i have all that I need.”

 He ended up staying a further five years, living an almost mortal life all in order to be with her. But it was not meant to last. In his absence his court grew unruly without him, some attempted to claim what was his, others attempted to defend it. A group left to find their missing master.

 Once found they watched him for 7 days, for it took them that long to understand just what they were seeing. Their master playing house with some mortal family, digging in the dirt, sweating and working. It was insult. At sundown of the final day they took action, as silent as shadows they surrounded the house, and burned it to the ground.

 Both Catherine's parents perished almost immediately. The Man in Red had been in town with Catherine's brother picking up essentials, and soon saw the smoke in the distance. He ran. The stink of death permeated the area. Members of his court stood around the brightly burning house, silent judges who had grown bold in his absence. He glared at them, and then rushed inside. It was apparent that her parents had perished swiftly, but she survived, pinned to the ground by a fallen beam. In seconds they were outside, her body clasped in his pale hands. With a sweep of his hand his court disappeared into the shadows and the flames were snuffed. All was calm, but the damage was done, the burning beam had crushed her mortal frame and her time was short. Her soul soon crossed the final gate into death, and even he could not cross that boundary.

    It was after that when his self imposed solitary begin. He returned to his barrow after five whole years and emptied it. Every mortal he had ensnared and granted long life to, he released not caring where they went or what they did, he gave to each a small fortune enough to live comfortably for more than a while. To all of his kind,he chased out with sword of iron held firmly in his left hand. Even as the hand spit burning flame he lashed and striked and drove out all immortals, until he was once and finally alone.

    The memory hung as heavy as the sword which had been lost long ago. He was soon snapped out of his recollection by a tug on his pant leg. The boy, for of course that is who it was, was rhythmically tugging on his leg.

 “Mister are you ok?” 

A surprised and gruff grunt of affirmation sounded and the gentleman reflexively flexed his hand. 

The Man asked once again “Child, how did you call to me?” although he had already begin to suspect.

 The boy in childlike honesty answered, “Daddy used to tell me stories of you, of the great fairy who loved my family very much, and that if you are in trouble, I can call out to you and you will appear and grant wishes!” 

It was just as he thought, the boy was a distant relative of The Lady, more accurately the brother that had survived and apparently thrived and it seemed he had turned his sisters life into a bedtime story. Now he understood... her blood had called out to him and now a boon was to be given. 

“So you did, tell me, what do you desire then? A bauble? Maybe a music box? Or perhaps a honeyed pastry? What can I get you”

 The reply was immediate, almost as if he had been waiting a long time to say it. “Family...I need a new family now” 

The Gentleman was taken aback, out of everything he expected this was not one of them. However the silence that once was comforting had grown stale and disturbing.

 “Boy where are your parents?” 

The child shuffled his feet and refused to look at the Man. It felt a lifetime before he answered…”Dead….I live with my grandma….but I need a new home now.” 

Of course the parents were gone...it explained much. But still the boy was found out here...alone. 

“And where is your grandmother now?”

 Again it took a while before the response came. “Inside”

 The words came while he glanced toward a window set inside the front of the house. “But she's sleeping right now...so I need to go away.” 

The Gentleman took a few small steps toward the open window and glanced inside. There upon a padded chair sat a frail figure that could only be the boys grandmother. Flies had started to gather around her mouth and a distinct smell hit his nose. Yes...the boy needed a new home. The boon had been asked for and it would be given. A Pole had changed his world around... Now it was his turn to do the same. His mind had been made up and the boon would be given. 

“You say you need a new home?...well then little one a new home you shall receive, how would you like to live in a house ruled in twilight? It would seem Im in need of some company as well.”

 The boys eyes widened and a small smile lifted his cheeks. “With you?” and then a moment of hesitation before he continued “As a guest?”

 The gentlemen seemed to consider it before he spoke simply “Not as a guest, as a friend….as family.” 

It seemed that it was time for The Solitary Faery to finally come out of hiding.    

[hipsofsteel]

10,000th Post!!!

When Eyes Meet Eyes

A short (and unplanned) prequel to ‘1917′ , for my 10,000th Tumblr post.

Summary: On August 20th, 1908, the “Great White Fleet” of the US Navy arrived in Sydney, Australia. It was the first time the personifications of the United States of America and the Australia met. And when eyes meet eyes, soul meets soul.

Relationship: AmeTralia (America/Australia)

Work Status: Complete Work

Part Two of the Darwin series

Found on AO3

Found on Wattpad

I had always heard stories about America. Stories from England. Stories from Canada. Even stories from the others I interacted with from my distant corner of the world.

They spoke of him like a devil sometimes, or with fondness at others.

Canada said that sometimes my behavior reminded him of America. The way I would rush to tell them things, my overeager excitement, and reckless and somewhat absentminded nature. And I knew England saw him in me as well.

It hurt Arthur when I grew faster than he had expected, shooting up from somewhere around his knees to only an inch or two shorter than him in the time he took between visits, my booming industries gifting me with the same fast growth America had once experienced. I was an ever-present reminder of something he had lost, something he could never hope to regain. It put a strange distance between us, but I remained his loyal son, trying to help him forget the pain, at least in those early days.

Japan and China spoke of that distant land in somewhat different tones.

Japan spoke in fear. Of dragon ships spewing smoke and destruction, of negotiations all but held by the sword.

China, in pain, and through the haze of opium, spoke of him in a similar manner.

"A blue-eyed demon in the body of a man. An eagle, unafraid to bare his talons and sink them in. Ambitious and young, with a lust for power. He will either fade away, as many demons do, or overthrow the king and take that mantle himself."

They were legends, pieced together and telling me of a former colony who had caused the man who raised me such great pain. A nation now strong, covering a continent from sea to shining sea.

These legends were what I knew of him when he came in 1908 at my government’s invitation.

When I had learned Alfred was sailing with the "Great White Fleet", I begged for us to invite him to come to Australia. I was curious to meet this other nation, as isolated as I was from the rest of the world.

And so, it seemed, was he, for he accepted the invitation at once.

He came off that ship on that August day in all his glory, wearing the uniform of an office that would hardly befit a human so young, although he was no human. Blond hair tucked beneath a cap, a grin on his face, blue eyes sparkling like the waters off of the Great Barrier Reef.

He had not seen me yet. I suddenly felt almost small in his presence, the way I once had with England. He was tall, strong, and handsome. Something inside wanted to reach out to him in that moment, something I could not put a name too.

And then he saw me.

***

The invitation to take the fleet to Australia had delighted me more than it should have. For years, Canada had told me stories of the young colony, and often said we would get along well if we ever met.

I had doubted I would get the chance for many more years. I had considered writing letters, but I knew that England still burned any personal letters I sent to him. I doubted he would let me "corrupt his young colonies". The only reason he left Matthew and I alone before Matthew's independence was that he knew we must communicate frequently and freely due to our shared border.

So I jumped at the chance to meet these two young colonies I had heard so much about. Their invitations had surprised me, but I had welcomed this opportunity. England could no longer stop them from meeting me, and I had every reason to see them and show them what Americans could do.

New Zealand, or Avery, had been polite and calm during my visit to Auckland. They were a very quiet person, and reminded me of Matthew. We had shared a few drinks and laughed, and the conversation had been amiable, but I found myself sighing as I left. It had been a long way from Honolulu to Auckland, and while I had felt welcome, I had not felt the excitement I had hoped these voyages would fill me with.

Arriving in Sydney had felt no different at first. I had smiled at the sight of the land, and grinned at the people excitedly leaning over the edges of ropes to try and get a closer view of our ships. It was no different than the other places we had visited, and I had no reason to hope it would be.

What I had not prepared myself for, however, was my eyes meeting his. Those bright green eyes, like new leaves on a tree beneath soft brown locks, dark as the soil in the Willamette Valley, and skin tanned from the years under this harsh southern sun.

Our eyes met, and something in my heart almost lurched forward, beating in a rhythm that frightened and excited me at the same time. A feeling I had no name for filled me.

Many years later, I would read a phrase in a book that, given the future ahead of us, even unknown in that moment, described our meeting perfectly.

When eyes meet eyes, soul meets soul.

And in the time it took for us to cross the docks and introduce ourselves, I felt that phrase in my heart, body, and soul.

And I know he felt the same.

***

We walked forward to meet each other, the men of my government who had come to greet this fleet, the men his had chosen to represent it.

The introductions went around.

And then they came to us.

"This is Kyle Kirkland, a young man in our employ."

It was a term those in the know often used to speak of us when they did not know if others were in the know. It was why we were always introduced last, and so informally, almost encouraging these men to forget us. It also helped that we often blended into the background to human eyes, although we all stood out in a room with only the others of our kind.

The officers smiled. "And this is Alfred F. Jones, who represents the personal interests of our President."

He smiled at me, and I felt my heart all but leap forward in my chest. We shook hands. 

His hands were warm like sandy beaches, and his grip was strong. A few seconds later, our men had looked away, our abilities to fade into the background protecting us from further notice.

"Always pleased to make my acquaintances with a Kirkland." He said with a smile once it was clear we were in no danger of being eavesdropped on.

I chuckled. "Consider yourself lucky that you got away with Jones as a last name after such an extensive history with him."

There's a faint laugh hidden on that face at that comment. "Yet somehow, Matthew also managed to escape such a fate."

"Yeah, he sure did, mate. But I expect that's more thanks to traits he has from a certain stubborn Frenchman."

Alfred chuckled. "I heard you got your stubbornness from a certain Scotsman."

"And Avery from a Welshman. You must have drained every ounce of stubbornness from the pommy bastard while he was still young."

Alfred's laughs at that had me grinning like a loon, and as we walked to where the formal dinner was to take place to greet our American visitors, I knew that this moment had been far too long in the making.

 He spent eight days in Sydney, and we ran around like young children. I told him the stories I had, and he shared his. We babbled like toddlers who had just gotten enough of a grasp on English to construct understandable sentences.

There were silent moments, when recalling our histories caused us too much pain. Even now, in the 21st century, we still feel those pains.

Nowadays, they are forgotten with a kiss.

Back then, it was a hand on the shoulder and a concerned voice.

"Kyle?"

"Sorry. My memories get a little hazy after that."

"I understand."

Year later, we would share our stories with each other, or as much as we could recall from before Arthur had arrived. Our tales and myths, our joys and sorrows, our fears of losing who we once had been, and acknowledging that, to a certain extent, we already had.

But being young, we tried to spend more time as children than adults. Trading stories of England and our quiet siblings, laughing at old antics we used to annoy them. I told him how England was doing personally, something he was not apparently told, even by Canada.

"I worry about him, but he shut me out long ago. I have no idea how to let him understand that I still care."

"One day you'll get it through his thick head. I know you will." I said, and my words apparently offered some comfort if the smile he gave me was anything to go by.

We laughed and smiled, hearts young as we continued to speak of happier times.

 I requested that my government let me go with him until his final stop in Albany, but my Prime Minister's response was scathing.

I won't transcribe the exact words he used, but I believe "childish" "irresponsible" and "Arthur would throw an absolute fit if he found out I'd even let you meet him once, let alone run around with him for eight days in Sydney. I don't dare imagine his response to allowing you to travel with Alfred until he leaves our homeland" all made their way into the message.

But as Alfred prepared to leave, he took my hands in his and grinned.

"Until we meet again, Kyle Kirkland."

"Until then, Alfred F. Jones."

And then he left.

We wrote letters, always friendly, although they were few and far between.

The next time we met face to face was in 1917, on a dock in France. I was no longer a boy. Gallipoli had made me a man.

He knew the moment he saw me that something had changed, but the wounds were too fresh, the pain too new. And besides, he was unsure how to approach me. Too much had changed in a mere nine years.

But then he saved Avery’s life in those hellish trenches. And in doing so, he saved a part of me I had feared was lost forever.

A kiss in the middle of the war should not have left such an impression as it did. But there was something there, something that had been lingering in our minds since 1908. A small spark was fanned into a small flame by that kiss, big enough to light a candle, although we spent more time lighting cigarettes in those days of war.

However, with the letters we shared and the agreement that perhaps this was something more than either of us could name, and that we wanted to make it more...

We spent the rest of the war fanning those flames into a full-blown fire.

A fire that still consumes us today.

When eyes meet eyes, soul meets soul.

And even now, a hundred years later, I know those blue eyes as my place of rest.

As he knows my green ones as his.

[xonismsx]

so as no one knows or even really cares, i have a verse where peter is the dada teacher at hogwarts. in this verse, he is married to myrtle who is still a ghost, but died as an adult. the myrtle blog i was writing with deactivated so i don’t have taylor’s explanation about how it worked, but the ship had a really special place in my heart because of how absolutely in love they where, this is pretty much entirely for myself but anyone is welcome to read it if they’d like. below the cut is a compilation of drabbles or cuts from threads that i want to be able to go back to

i’m also not sure i’ll be able to write with another myrtle because of how much i loved taylor and her portrayal. myrtle developed such interesting relationships with peter and obviously still means a lot to me

one other thing to note is a copied and pasted everything and did not change any of the formatting to match my current style.

everything taylor wrote will be on a blockquote to make it easy to differentiate, though our writing styles also make it pretty obvious

also note this is long af in case anyone is interested in reading it/some of it

the first bit is actually in the typical canon verse where peter is a student and myrtle still died as a student but i wanted to include it all the same. i also want to note that their younger selves did not get along at first in the slightest. myrtle was rude and insulting and peter was easily hurt but eventually they found a rhythm and formed a sort of friendship.

the prompt was non-sexual acts of intimacy, specifically reading a book together

[ When he returns, she holds the book out to him.  The lovely book that made her smile when she  received it had made her head hurt when she  tried to read it. Fixing him with a distant gaze,  she spoke in an equally passive voice. ]

’ Turn the pages for me while I read, please. It makes my                                 head ache when I interact with the                                 living world for too long. ’

[ Without another word, she sits on the thankfully dry  ground –rather a compliment within itself, she  thinks, as she did not flood the place as she knew  he would be coming– and motions for him to join  her. ]

and the book theme leads us into this next bit

   just  before he was meant to leave hogwarts  for  the    holidays, peter  made his way over to the long since    abandoned  (  by students at least  )  girls washroom    on  the  first  floor.  it had occurred to him  during  his    christmas  shopping  that although  she  wasn’t  quite    considered a friend  (  &  she likely didn’t see him as    one either  ),  he felt  the  need,  but  perhaps  simply    want, to pick something out for myrtle  as  well.  she    was always so, herself, & he doubted there were any    that  had  gotten  her a  gift  for  christmas,  let  alone    many who visited her besides him.

                  upon  entering,  he  called  out for her.  once  he  received  no                   response, he assumed she might be elsewhere in the school                   on one of her rare excursions, & so decided to leave the very                   neatly wrapped present on on the the counters where it might                   remain   dry  should  any  flooding  occur.   in   hindsight,   he                   supposed  a book might not have been the best thing to  have                   brought to a girl that frequently flooded the room in which she                   inhabited,  but at the time,  the idea of bringing her something                   to take up at least a few hours of her time seemed nice.

   it  was  a muggle book,  which he supposed was another    unnecessary risk, but he had read it himself  &  thought    it   was  utterly  brilliant.   it  was  adventurous,   slightly    absurd,  but  extremely  entertaining  &  very funny from    what he got out of it. the book was the hitchhiker’s guide    to  the  galaxy by douglas adams,  &  he just hoped  she    enjoyed it. she was dead after all, she could use  a  little    bit  of  cheering  up.  it had a note on it as  well,  for  just    such  an  occasion  &   it  read as  follows  in  absolutely    terrible ( but for once with perfect spelling ) handwriting:

                  Happy Christmas, Myrtle.                   I  wasn’t sure what you would like,   but I thought you might enjoy                   this. Be sure to wait to open it though. I won’t know, or care really                   if you’ve opened it before you’re meant to,  but at least try to hold                   off until Christmas morning.                   From that little rat of a boy,                   Peter

[ every once in a while, myrtle had to leave. the  frozen-over black lake was always her favorite  destination, with it’s ice caps thinning in some  places just enough to see her reflection.

 she was an ugly thing, not worthy of anyone’s time.  no, she reminded herself, that wasn’t right. or  maybe it was. where she stood with peter in terms  of a relationship was an area as opaque as her  skin. she was swimming in murky waters again,  and for the first time in fifty years, she was afraid  of drowning.

 myrtle thought herself a poison as she pretended  like she could feel the glassy ice under her hand.  she traced patterns into the light dusting of snow  that settled along the top, heaving a sigh as she  realized her little drawings were just hideous eyes.

 she couldn’t sleep any more, but if she did, it would  have been in black and white. black, white and a  splash of garish yellow. any other colors didn’t  matter, they couldn’t shock her enough to die.  yellow had.

 scratching out the doodles with her nails that would  never grow, myrtle stood and wiped away any  offending tears. it was christmas, where was her  cheer?

 it was dead like her, she knew that. wandering back  to the castle, she recalled the faint memory of  firelight against the sweeping navy blue of the  ravenclaw common room. she remembered sitting  up all night, wanting to catch anyone who left her a  present. myrtle never caught anyone, for no one  ever did. her presents were given to her when she  went home for the summer.

 floating back into her bathroom, she wondered why she  bothered. so young was she when she died, and so  very scared of death itself, she remained behind. it  was curious parody of life she led, one that, perhaps,  left her a bit less empty than she had been in life.

 at least she had her books. the size of the hogwarts library  had doubled in size since she was alive, and every so  often she could find someone to turn the pages for her.

 musing over what she would read over the break, when she  might actually be able to visit the library during the day,  she nearly missed the package sitting safely on a counter.

 expecting the worst, she did not touch it for a very long  time. she had no faith in hogwarts students any more, and  rather expected some hideous prank. it was hours before  she even dared to read the note.

 her mouth fell open when she did, hanging like an unhinged  basket. she wondered if she should cry before realizing she  couldn’t. she was too busy smiling.

 it always hurt a bit to interact with the living world, but she  ran her hand down the side of the packaging. what it was,  she knew, but not the specifics.

 leaving the gift where it was, she floated to her window. myrtle  knew she would not need to make a trip to the library at all. ]

this next one was a drabble taylor wrote another huge turning point in their relationship with their younger selves. it was a kiss meme, the prompt was ‘ghost kiss’

[ He didn’t have any idea what it was like, to be so  cold and so empty. All Myrtle could feel was  pain in one form or another. She couldn’t touch  things without a searing headache, couldn’t leave,  couldn’t let it go.

 Peter had become her little rat. In him, she poured  every bit of malice and misery she had in her  unaging body. He, likewise, attempted to do the  same, but it never reached her. She could feel if  she tried, but nothing could feel her.

 It was on a Wednesday when she snapped. It was  raining buckets, the lightning flashing behind  stained glass windows that appeared to be crying.  She had been for hours and only stopped so she  could speak clearly.

 What he said didn’t matter, but it sparked a fire in her  she thought long extinguished. Not one of desire but  of unimaginable rage. She rushed at him, taking the  sides of his face in a death-cold grip.

 Myrtle pressed her lips to his. Could he feel it? Could  he feel how sad she was? How all she had left was  bitterness and pain? God she hoped so. Someone  had to, the loneliness was killing her over again.

 She pulled away, releasing him as her eyes filled up  with tears for the millionth time in that decade. ]

’ I’m sorry, Peter. ’

[ And she was gone. Safe in her hiding spot where he  —for once— could not see her cry, she hoped nothing  she said touched him either. Myrtle was sad, she was  lost, but it was a kind of melancholy that one had to  bear alone. She was not so selfish to condemn  someone else to it. ]

what started off the proper marriage. it was a meme “I will be married for 3 days to the first person in my askbox who says "Honey, I'm home"”. i sent it in, and this beautiful thread came about

’ Peter, I feel quite like this is some sick joke. You’re                                      not a child –physically, I can’t                                     say much for your mental state,                                      I truly don’t know—, you                                      wouldn’t do that, right? ’

[ She feels ridiculous either way. ]

’ Is this really binding? I think death has already parted us. ’

              “myrtle,  it’s much too late to change my mind.  i’m afraid               i was bound to you long ago.  & i don’t care if anyone else               sees it as binding. i love you. i have for a long time, & ( if               you’ll let me ) i’d like to have the honour of calling you my               wife.  the  only joke would be a cruel one being played  on               me by the rest of the universe were you to refuse me now.”

’ You bloody idiot, you’ll make me cry and                              smear my makeup! ‘

[ Despite her annoyed tone, she reaches for his  hand. It might hurt a bit if she holds on for too  long, but her need to prove he’s solid, real and  telling the truth is something she cannot  explain. After a moment, she smiles. ]

’ I’m not an idiot, I won’t let you get away. I- I                                 think you’ll make me                                 happy. ‘

    the  sensation  of  her  cool  skin  against  his  own  was     unexpected to say the very least, but to hell if he wasn’t     going to hold onto that fleeting moment of her touch.  so     rarely  was he privy to it that he had learned to  cherish     to  moments when she chose to interact with the  living     world; he knew the effect it had on her.

              “the chance to make you happy is all i’m really asking for.”

’ I haven’t been happy in so long. I imagine I                                    won’t be very good at it. ‘

[ She drops her hand, deciding not to tell him  it’s because she wants to kiss him at the  end of all this without a searing headache. ]

’ You will be able to stand me? I like to think I                                     will make you content. ‘

              “i have this long, haven’t i?”

    his  words  sounded  with  a  concurrent  ( & teasing )  smile.     after  all,  it wasn’t like their meeting had been a  recent  one.     she  had  been so cold to him at first  &  in more  ways  than     one, but for some reason  ( only merlin knew why )  he kept     coming  back.  he  was inexplicably drawn to her at  first,  &     now, he knew there wasn’t anything she could do that would     make him want to leave.

another meme!! another kiss one at that

[ She’d never kissed anyone properly before,  it was a miracle it worked out as well as it  did. It required quite a bit of concentration,  making sure that she did not simply pass  through him as she put her arms around his  neck. It was that bit of contact that gave her  enough courage to press her lips to his.  Myrtle knew she was cold —dreadfully so—  but hoped that her utter elation would be  enough for him. Pulling back, she offered a  nervous smile. ]

’ I wanted to practice before the wedding, with my luck I                                              won’t be able to do it right                                              the day of. ‘

    there  had been no forewarning.  there was just the  swift     movement  of  her  lips  to  his.  she was so cold,  &  her     touch  so light he felt as if were he to make  any  sudden     movements she might break apart. even so, he wouldn’t     trade  it  for the world.  he never expected to  be  able  to     kiss  her,  or  hold her  (  at least not in the way he might     with  a  living  woman  )  but knowing she  was  his  was     more  than  enough.  she  made him very  happy,  &  he     could only hope she felt the same.

            “i’m sure it’ll be fine.”

    &  her smile was met with one of his own,  although  his     was significantly more reassuring in nature.

here’s a couple of silly little thought meme answer  (not sure why the writing is suddenly all small but whatever)

— Silly me, and silly him. I’m dead, there’s no point in                                           getting married. But oh does                                           it feel lovely to be… well,                                           loved. So I’ll do it, I’ll do it                                           because I’ve dreamed of it                                           and because if I must marry                                           anyone, it might as well be                                           him. He would be the one to                                           give me all I’ve ever wanted,                                           wouldn’t he? 

[ She knows she loves all of him, but perhaps  loved his brain first. If nothing else, she  loved his reading list before giving the rest  of him a chance. True, he could not  remember the ways to identify a werewolf  (despite Remus being one) but he knew that  she liked every flower under the sun, and  that adventure books were her favorite to read.  That was what really mattered to her. ]

surprise kiss from peter meme

[ she’s so surprised, she nearly passes  right through him. realizing at the last  second what he’s trying to do, she  gives him a quick peck on the lips  before pulling away. ]

’ A bit of warning next time, love? ’

next is a letter myrtle “wrote” for peter followed by a sticky note she left, though completely unrelated

Peter,

Love, how do you not own a copy of Candide? Going down to my office to get mine. Very disappointed.

this is a 6 song playlist taylor made for this ship

if i didn’t care — the ink spots

easy living — billie holiday

a thousand times goodnight — abel korzeniowski

love me as though there were no tomorrow — nat king cole

blue moon — frank sinatra

moonrise — brian crain

here is a moodboard taylor made

next is another kiss meme, but one i wrote.

ϡ  for a kiss that lets you know I love you.

     a  year  had  passed  since  they  had  been  wed.  it  had     been so peculiar, but it seemed  himself  &  his love were     the  only  two that didn’t seem to care that one  was  living     &  one  was  dead.  “til death do us part”  seemed  like  an     overrated phrase anyhow.

              “happy anniversary, myrtle.”

    that  was  when  he  presented her with the  gift.  it  was  a     sunflower, still in the pot too. seemed a bit ironic to give a     living  plant  to a ghost,  knowing that eventually the  plant     would die,  no?  exactly.  this particular sunflower held up     only the appearance of living. in truth, it was neither living,     nor  dead.  it was simply charmed to uphold the image  of     itself  at  the true pinnacle of its beauty,  as if to mirror her.

              “a  sunflower.  i read somewhere that they’re supposed  to  be  a                a  symbol  of  admiration so it seemed fitting that  i  give  one  to                you. & it’s been charmed.  to always remain as beautiful as you.”

    &  with that,  their lips met in a fleeting kiss. but that was     all  they  needed.  their  love  wasn’t  conveyed   through     conventional  means like touch,  but when they  did,  the     intent  was  clear.  he believed she  deserved  the  world.

and another kiss from peter

19. forceful kiss

    he  hadn’t  the  foggiest  idea of what brought it  on,  but  he     would  certainly  be  ｌｙｉｎｇ  if  he  were  to  say  that   he     didn’t  find  the surprise  pleasant.  he was used  to  a  certain     FORCE behind her words  (  it came with the territory of being     her  ＨＵＳＢＡＮＤ  ), but the force behind her kiss was all     too unfamiliar.

    a  smile threatened to surface at the  spontaneity  of it all,     but  instead,  peter  settled  on wrapping his arms  around  her     ever fleeting form, intent on relishing  each  moment it  lasted.

here’s some little things or silly little back and forth but that’s domestic married life for you (again it’s small, don’t know why, not gonna bother )

’ Just you watch. I’ll be the next Delia Smith! ’

    the bowl  ( & it’s now freshly mixed contents )  were placed     on the counter next to her, as requested. & a laugh rung out     at the proclamation.

              “& when you do, i swear to purchase all of your cookbooks.”

SEPARATE THING

“never a dull day with you, is there?”

’ Oh shush, we had plenty of fun yesterday                    evening. Tonight I just want to                    sit here and listen to the radio. ’

SEPARATE THING

“do you have a valentine yet?” he’s joking, but how could he resist asking?

’ Valentines are for women without husbands.                           you are my valentine forever.                           And my date to any future                           Yule balls. ’

another meme prompted drabble taylor wrote. this one: crowds used to freak me out

her first deathday party is more alive than most of the school.

how she got the pins in her hair and the diamond necklace around her neck she doesn’t care, but it’s there and it’s sweeter than any sixteen.

for once, she’s happy. it’s dizzying and beautiful and just a bit like waking up drenched in cold water.

she’s smiling like she’s trying to make up for thirty years of sobbing, and in a way, she is.

her favorited records –scratched nearly beyond repair– play out a big band song that she probably had memorized when she was a teenager now. the words don’t matter, what does is that she’s dancing.

alone at first, as everyone starts that way, but then she’s dancing with him. all of a sudden, everything gets much clearer.

her laugh is drowned out in her ears and she doesn’t seem to realize that she’s the only one carrying on like she still has a heartbeat. as if she gives a damn.

she can flush, she can’t be short of breath, but she pretends she is as she winds her arms around his neck. is she dancing with him or is he just along for her giddy twirling? she doesn’t know but the rest of the guests do.

they’re all watching the horrifying spectacle of a woman gone insane.

she’s watching him again.

when she stops, everyone’s worried she’ll start to cry again. never in all their lives –or deaths– had they seen anything so embarrassing. myrtle rolls her eyes and takes peter’s hand.

’ Something slower, maybe? Where people can keep their noses out of our business? ’

she doesn’t wait for an answer before walking away with him in tow. her hand is firmly gripping his like a lifeline, even though she’s the one pulling him onwards.

’ I didn’t ask before. ‘

myrtle says when she finds an empty classroom. the moonlight’s nice, shining through the window, sectioned off by an ebony frame.

’ And I’m not asking now. Dance with me. ’

it’s not a request, but she does give him enough space to pull away. it makes her smile again when he doesn’t.

they look like they’re about to waltz when she realizes there isn’t any music. sighing in defeat, she lets her head rest on his shoulder.

there’s no music, there’s no dancing, but there could be.

pulling back just slightly, she smiles up at him. she’s not alive, but she could be.

gotta have some sad in here so here’s a drabble prompted by † for a kiss to say good bye forever.

well she’s not about to leave him, is she? she shoots a nurse a glare. obviously the woman’s never seen a ghost and her dying husband. the thought makes her stomach twist.

dies. died. will die.

it’s all so final.

it was never like that when she died, it happened so quickly. she looks to him in quiet terror. what if he goes quickly too?

without thinking, she presses a kiss to his lips. she’s in luck, he’s still alive when she does. sitting back, she does not feel accomplished.

sighing, she takes his hand in hers and ignores the stabbing pain. she kisses the back, very gently, wishing her lips were warm.

she sits with him for hours after he stops breathing, she won’t let his hand go. her head hurts so much she thinks she might scream, but she can’t even cry.

she is dead, but cannot die. she is, was and will be, all without him.

and to end on, taylor was given the prompt “peter has died and moved one without you” (obviously as an alternate ending to the above)

[ she knew it would happen one day. he was  too free to keep locked at her side for  eternity. she would never want that for him  anyway. wherever he was, he was free.  nodding, she did let a few tears spill over  onto her cheeks. she did not bother to dry  them.

 is, was, will be. and all without him, too. it  seemed she found a reason to cry again. ]

that’s all folks!