#like I am trying to be alive for 12 more hours can we just get to that and see where it goes from there

[socks-in-b3d]

There is a special type of hell and it’s when the school has an event for parents to turn up to but it’s like in the dick and bawls of the quarter where I would rather do anything but have to be asked well what do YOU want to do? A thousand times

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, Mentions of drugs, mentions of murder

A/N: Although this is FICTION I want to make it clear how serious getting involved with anything to do with drugs can be, and how hard it can be to get out of it and in no way am I trying to glorify it.

The clock read 5:03 PM as I stepped out of the front door of Boston University, the autumn sky painted in soft streaks of pink and orange. The campus buzzed with the usual energy on a Friday - students rushing to home to get ready for weekend parties, some chatting in small groups on the lawns, while others sped off on bikes or scurried to catch the next bus. Boston was always alive, but there was a kind of comfort in the routine of it all, a sense of order in the chaos.

I pulled my coat tighter around me, the early October chill creeping in as I started walking. It had been a long day, a long week, really. Law school wasn’t a joke. Between the hours of lectures, the mountains of assignments, and the never ending reading list, I felt like I was constantly drowning in work. Sometimes, it felt like I barely had time to breathe, let alone catch up with my friends or even sleep. But tonight, I had made an exception. I was heading to my best friend Willow’s place for some much needed relaxation and a good catch up.

Willow had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We grew up together, practically sisters. Our families had always been close, bonded by the same comfortable, though not extravagant, wealth. We weren’t the type of rich that screamed excess, but our lives had always been comfortable, easy. Willow and I never talked much about that, though, it was just an unspoken part of our lives, something we both understood without needing to mention.

After taking a short subway journey, I made my way through the familiar streets toward her apartment, I felt the weight of the week slowly starting to lift off my shoulders. Willow’s place was always my safe haven, bringing me back memories of when my family also lived in Beacon Hill. A place where I could let my guard down and forget about the endless deadlines, the pressure to perform, and the expectations that came with law school. Tonight, I needed that more than ever.

When I reached her apartment building, Willow was already at the door, waving at me with a bright smile. She was wrapped in a chunky knit sweater, her hair laid perfectly, and she looked as warm and inviting as ever.

“Took you long enough” she teased as I walked up the steps.

I rolled my eyes, grinning. “Blame the professors. They think we’re machines.”

“Ah I’m only messing” she said, stepping aside to let me in. “I’ve got wine ready. You need it.”

“I’m not arguing with that” I replied, stepping inside and shrugging off my coat. The warmth of her apartment immediately hit me, and I sighed in relief. It was always so homey here, the soft glow of the candles she had lit casting flickering shadows on the walls. Willow’s place had this calm, peaceful vibe that was the exact opposite of the chaos in my life right now.

“So” she began, handing me a glass of white wine mixed with lemonade to (you know to make it sweeter) as we settled onto the couch, “What’s the latest? How’s law school treating you?”

I groaned, taking a sip of the alcoholic concoction before answering. “I don’t know why yous ever let me decide to become a lawyer” I laughed.  “I feel like I’m constantly drowning in assignments and then I’m up to my ears in readings, and don’tttttt even get me started on work. I’ve been spending so much time at my mom’s bridal studio, I swear its like every woman in Boston is getting married this year.”

Willow chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d lose my mind.”

“I’m hanging on by a thread. But it’ll be worth it. I hope.” I said rolling my eyes.

“It will” she said confidently, raising her glass. “You’re going to be an amazing lawyer one day. I can already see it.”

“From your lips to god's ears” I laughed, clinking my glass with hers. “But yeah, I’ve got to sit in on a court hearing on Monday. Kind of like an observation. We’re supposed to get a feel for how things work in the courtroom.”

Willow looked impressed. “That sounds intense. Are you nervous?”

“A little” I admitted. “I’ve never actually been inside a courtroom before. You think I would've already 3 years into law school, like it’s one thing to read about cases and watch the news, but it’s another to actually be there, seeing it all unfold.”

She nodded thoughtfully, taking another sip of her wine. “You’ll do fine. You always do. Just remember, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

I smiled, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease. “Thanks, Willow. I needed that.”

We talked for a little while longer, catching up on the little things, what she’d been up to, how her week had gone, the usual chatter that always seemed to flow so easily between us. I could feel myself relaxing, the stress of the week slowly melting away with each sip of wine.

Eventually, I reached for my phone and connected it to her TV, letting some music play softly in the background. After a few songs, “Everybody Dies In Their Nightmares” by XXXTENTACION started to play.

“Oh my god, I haven’t heard this song since, like, 2018!” Willow said, laughing as she set down her wine glass. “This reminds me of Nate Doe, he showed it to me. I haven’t heard about him in years.”

Her words sparked something deep in my memory, and suddenly, a flood of thoughts hit me. “Oh my god who was friends with Chris Sturniolo. Where the hell did he go?”

Willow’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Chris! Oh my God, he was such a sweetheart!”

“I know, right?” I said, leaning forward in my seat. “Do you remember we used to talk all the time during summer 2018? How he’d walk all the way across Boston just to hang out with me. I had such a soft spot for him.”

Willow smiled, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Oh my god yes! He was so good looking at the time too.. Do you remember how he and Nate were inseparable? They were always together.”

“Yeah” I nodded, my mind spinning with memories. “Nate had this tough exterior, but Chris.. Chris was just a genuinely good guy. I wonder what happened to him.”

We both fell silent for a moment, lost in our thoughts. Nate had always seemed a little rough around the edges, coming from a background that was a bit more complicated than ours. But somehow, he managed to keep it together. Chris, though, he was different. He was kind in a way that stuck with you, the type of person who made you feel like you mattered.

Without even realizing it, I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through old messages with Chris. “I wonder if he’s still around” I said, more to myself than to Willow.

She glanced over at me, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know..” I shrugged. “I just haven’t thought about him in so long. I’m curious.. I really do hope he’s doing okay.”

Curiosity got the better of both of us, and soon enough, we were deep diving into our old messages on Facebook Messenger of all things. We laughed as we scrolled through the innocent conversations between us, Nathan, and Chris, back when everything seemed simpler, easier. There was something sweet about it, something that reminded me of a time when life wasn’t so complicated.

I eventually clicked onto Chris’s profile, but my heart sank a little when I saw it. “Weird” I muttered, frowning at my phone screen.

“What’s up?” Willow asked, glancing over at me.

“He unfriended me” I said, scrolling through his profile. “And there’s nothing here. No posts, no profile picture.. everything’s wiped. He only has like 20 friends on here now.”

Willow raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yeah..” I said, showing her my phone. “It’s like he disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Willow shrugged, sipping her wine. “Maybe he’s just gone off the grid. People do that sometimes. I mean, I only keep Facebook for Messenger these days anyway.”

“True” I muttered, though something about it felt... off. “I just wonder what happened to him. It’s like he vanished.”

“Maybe it’s no big deal” Willow said, trying to reassure me. “People change. They move on.”

“Yeah, I guess” I said, though I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

As we continued scrolling through old conversations, laughing at the silly messages we used to send as 15 year olds, I found myself thinking more and more about Chris. He had been such a big part of my life for that brief time, and now, it felt like he was a ghost, someone who had been there, but now was completely gone.

After a couple more glasses of wine and plenty of laughs, Willow and I decided to call it a night. It was almost midnight, and the weight of the week was starting to hit me. We didn’t even bother clearing the table, just left the wine glasses and half empty bottle as they were, and headed to bed.

The next morning, I woke up earlier than I’d planned. It was barely 7am, and sunlight streamed in through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. I stretched, yawned, and checked my phone – no new notifications, except for a reminder that I had to open the bridal shop today.

Willow was still fast asleep when I slipped out of her apartment, but that was no surprise. She was always a late riser. Beacon Hill was quiet this early, the cobblestone streets almost deserted, with only a few people out for their morning walks. You could see my breath in the crisp morning air as I headed toward the bridal shop in downtown Boston, deciding to stop for a coffee along the way.

As I made my way down Charles Street, I noticed something out of place for this hour of the morning. A cluster of police cars parked near the corner, their flashing lights reflecting off the surrounding buildings. There were officers standing around, talking in low voices, and a small crowd of people who seemed to be watching from a distance.

I couldn’t help but feel curious. What had happened? What was going on in these people’s lives, right under my nose, that I had no clue about? The thought lingered with me as I ordered my usual oat milk cappuccino and continued on my way.

It was strange how life worked. One minute, everything seemed normal – people going about their routines, living their lives – and the next, something like this happened. Something that could change everything. And soon enough, I’d be on the other side of that. Potentially defending people in situations just like this, trying to piece together what had happened and why. It made me wonder if I was really ready for that kind of responsibility.

I got to the bridal shop and unlocked the door and went through my usual opening routine. The shop had a certain charm to it, and I’d expect nothing less from my mom. Elegant white dresses hanging on racks, soft lighting bouncing off the delicate lace and silk, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the faint scent of roses. Mom had impeccable taste when it came to design, and it showed in every corner of the shop.

After turning on the lights and setting everything up, I put on the radio like I always did. The shop wouldn’t open for another fifteen minutes, so I had some time to kill. The thought of Chris floated back into my mind as I leaned against the counter, doom scrolling through Instagram.

Maybe Instagram was my best bet for reconnecting with him. Facebook had been a bust, everything was wiped there, but maybe his Instagram account would offer something more. I just wanted to know what he looked like now at least.

I typed his name into the search bar and found him easily enough. @christophersturniolo. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his profile, and funnily enough I was already following him, must have been from years ago. But that feeling quickly faded when I realized it was just as ghostly as his Facebook. Only two posts, both from 2018. No profile picture. Nothing else. It was like he had disappeared from the internet, or at least from any part of it that was publicly accessible.

I clicked into the first post, squinting at the photo. It was a shot of him and a couple of other guys, standing pool side which looked like Nate’s back garden, if I could remember correctly. They were all grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. I was about to scroll down when something on the radio caught my attention.

“…another victim in the ongoing feud between the Crimson Cartel and the H Block gangs. The man, whose identity is being withheld until the family is notified, but is said to be apart of the H Block gang, was found dead on Charles Street late last night in what police believe to be a gang related hit. Authorities are urging anyone with information to come forward…”

I froze, my thumb hovering over the screen of my phone as the news report continued.

The Crimson Cartel. I’d heard of them before, everyone had. They were one of the biggest gangs in Boston, notorious for their drug trafficking and violent turf wars. And now, it seemed like things were escalating again, another life lost to the senseless cycle of crime and violence.

It was awful. The idea that people could get dragged into something like that just to make ends meet, that they could lose themselves to drugs or crime, it always hit me hard. Maybe it was because I’d led such a different life, a life of relative privilege, that it felt so distant. But now, with everything I was learning in law school, it didn’t feel so distant anymore. One day, I’d probably be defending people caught up in situations like this, people who made bad decisions, sure, but who were still human, who still deserved a chance.

I shook my head, pulling myself out of my thoughts. I glanced down at my phone, intending to close out of Instagram, but then I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat.

The little heart icon beneath Chris’s post… it was red.

Did I just like that? My stomach dropped. I must’ve tapped it without realizing while I was distracted by the radio. Panic surged through me as I scrambled to unlike the post, but the damage was already done.

Chris would get a notification. He’d know I’d liked his post from 2018, after all this time, after years of no contact. What would he think? Would he even care? A million thoughts raced through my head, but there was no taking it back now.

I stood there for a moment, staring at my phone screen in disbelief. What had I just done?

A/n: ooooooo first part im exciteddddd, im hoping to have a posting schedule of Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. But that may vary week to week depending how busy I am<3

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo

[m0llygunn]

CREATURE FROM THE GRAVE

Creepy guy on the side of the road? Perfectly acceptable to pick up and bring home, especially when he’s the living dead.

Summary: The first night at your house— the undead has a name! wc: 900 ─── † ཐི❤︎ཋྀ † ───

“Frankie boy, my love, my new pal, please stop gargling or growling or whatever that dreadful noise is.”

He gurgles another low, stomach deep noise, and you use your elbows to prop yourself up on the mattress, looking over the edge to see him lying on the floor. His eyes meet yours and with his cracked, decrepit lips pulled into a frown, you make a mental note to buy him some chapstick tomorrow. His frown deepens, brows pinching together as he shakes his head, upset over something. You fall back onto your pillow with a sigh. 

“What is it now?”

He groans in response, dragging out his deep, annoyed tone. You hear shuffling as his voice grows taller. 

Rolling your eyes, you meet his gaze as he sits up on his makeshift bed, barely visible through the darkness of your room.

“Frankie, I can’t understand you. Didn’t your mother ever teach you about enunciation?” 

He grunts. You sit up again and as soon as he has your focus, in a slow, creaky movement, he raises his arm to point at his chest. 

“You?”

He nods. His shaky finger points towards his chest again, pairing the movement with a negating shake of his head. 

“You not…?” you guess.

He nods enthusiastically— well, as enthusiastically as the undead can get. He points to his chest again and you have absolutely no clue what he’s trying to say. Zero, zilch, nada clue. It’s past midnight and he might not need sleep but you do.

“You not… tired?” you guess again. He groans, shaking his head, disagreeing. He pauses for a brief moment, shrugging— maybe— but then he continues shaking his head more convincingly than before. He’s not tired but that’s not what he’s trying to say. 

With a sigh, you deflate. It’s already felt like the longest night of your life but now this… “Frankie—”

He grunts harshly, interrupting you. His jagged movements point his finger into his chest a final time, followed by a final shake of his head. 

“You’re not Frankie?”

He nods, letting out an agreeable grunt. 

“Well, I know that, silly. We’ve already gone over this— I don’t know your name and until you can better enunciate your grunts, you’re going by Frankenstein.”

He stares at you blankly and you roll your eyes, shifting on your elbows to get a better look at him. 

“You know Frankenstein? Like the book? Mary Shelley? Judging by the pins on your jacket, you should have been alive way after the book was written, so either you’re being difficult or you just had really, really terrible taste in books, Frankie.”

He groans dreadfully again, dragging out his explicit disagreement for his new name. 

“Well, what do you want me to do? Guess names at random until I get it right? That would take forever, and it’s already past midnight because we had to spend three hours scrubbing dirt off of every inch of you. And bugs, Frankie, so many bugs!”

He rolls his eyes and you gasp— to be treated like this in your own home! 

“Frank—”

“Euggh!” he cuts you off.

“Euggh is not a very nice name but if that’s what you want to go by…,” you smile, watching him scowl his hardest yet. “Sweet, Euggh, I am so very tired and I have to wake up tomorrow morning to scrub the house clean from your mud. I am going to sleep. Goodnight. Again.”

You toss your comforter back over yourself and sink into your pillow. Not even a full second goes by before you hear the creaky shuffle of Euggh getting up.

“If I knew the undead operated on a different time zone I would have left you where I found you,” you say, shifting to get comfort. 

He grunts in response, short and abrasive, but you don’t take it to heart. You hear more shuffling, the drag of his bad foot, and the squeal of your desk drawer being pulled open. There’s about 12 seconds of silence before every noise you just heard happens in reverse.

“Hmmmmm,” he groans beside your bed, dragging out the low rasp of his voice. When you pretend to sleep he gets louder, even going as far as knocking the edge of the mattress. 

“Jesus, this can’t wait until morning?” you sigh, sitting up. You switch on your bedside lamp, blinking away the harsh light to look at your new, quickly-growing-annoying friend.

Not having looked at him in a while, his once wet hair has now dried, sticking up and frizzing out in all different directions, making him look more like Bride of Frankenstein than Frankenstein. You can’t help but snicker a giggle. His brows pinch together and once again, he’s back to scowling. 

“Lighten up, would ya?” you tease. “We can give your hair a good deep condition tomorrow, then it won’t be as frizzy. Who would have thought a century of grime would be drying for the hair follicle?”

“Errrgh,” he drags out, before shifting his balance and raising a hand towards you. In his pale, scrubbed clean fist is a paper, ruled lines ripped straight from your diary— classy.

“What’s this?” You sit up even further, crossing your legs in front of you as you take the paper from him. 

Flipping it around, you read the messy chicken scratch writing scribbled across the page in sparkly pink gel ink. 

“If you knew how to write, why didn’t you say something earlier, Eddie?”

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

Thoughts on Spy in Expiration Date:

————————————————————

I think Expiration Date actually gives us our first look into how badly Spy has messed up his relationships with the other mercs.

So in Expiration Date we actually see Spy putting himself out there when he tells Scout to collect everyone's dying wish. He WANTS to hear them. He’s expressing a desire to have this, (even if it’s seemingly a very small) connection with the other mercs, before they all end up dying. And even more so, he’s doing it to NO gain of his own. Like, this benefits him in NO way. He takes nothing away from learning everyone's dying wish, from making these connections, because he’s going to die the same day they do. So for ONCE, for one singular time, Spy is putting himself out there with these men he’s been growing a connection to. 

And immediately no one gives a shit. Because…why would they? 

Up to this point, what has Spy done to make them care about him? 

We can see that they don't like Spy, that much is like, perfectly clear. Scout has no respect for him, or at least, in front of the other mercs he makes it known that he’s willing to make Spy the butt of the joke. And the looks  the other mercs give him really don’t indicate that they WANT to be sitting around with Spy talking about their last wishes. They just seem…annoyed, unconvinced, bothered by whatever trick Spy is trying to pull, because what else are they supposed to assume from Spy? That he actually cares? When has he ever proved that he cares about his team, when has he ever made it known he enjoys their company or wants their friendship? Because it’s already vaguely implied that he hasn’t tried to form relationships with any of them (or I could possibly be insane and reading too far into things, who would have thought). And also, he has the persona of being a stuck up asshole. Which surely isn’t making him anymore popular with the others. 

But the sad part is that NOW, in his final days alive. When his world, and the world of the people he so DESPERATELY wants to be close to is ending, he reaches out. He reaches out and he lets himself test the waters of vulnerability, and it just doesn’t matter. It’s too late, and no one cares. 

Because it’s Spy.

And I think, I think that he sat in his smoking room before Scout eventually showed up, and had this moment of realization. This moment of clarity. Where he realized that it was genuinely too late. That he finally can’t run. He finally can’t pretend it doesn’t get to him. He’s finally reached the point where it’s too late to change. It’s too late to grow. And he pours himself a drink, lights a cigarette, and just sits there. Maybe he wonders about how the others will spend their last days. Maybe he thinks about how his deepest fears of dying alone are coming true before his very eyes and there's nothing he can do to stop it. And that, in the end, it's all his fault. 

————————————————————

Wrote this in the discord, then fleshed it out at a very chill and normal hour of 12:45 am. My apologies if this ends up making NO sense. Good morning and good night chat 😭

(Also also, this might eventually lead to a SpyDad Expiration Date breakdown post, who knows).

————————————————————

[bruh-anator3000]

A/n: I'm gonna do these in sections cause I'm really stressed rn but I wanna provide the goodies. Happy Halloween, stay safe and enjoy the fall! If you like the story, please comment and like for more!

Summary: Living with The Deadpool and The Wolverine isn't easy. It's even harder when rent is due, and a heist is the only way to pay it off. Balancing bills, love, and being the Black Cat isn't easy, but you manage... sometimes.

Warnings: cursing! Ambiguous as I could be with reader, but I am female and may have written it as a more fem!pov, sexual content hinted at, horny Wade, subtle Logan, Miguel soon to join, not proofread, the rhythm of crime is important to remember.

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader x Wade Wilson x Miguel O'Hara (yah-huh i said what I said)

Part 1. Enjoy!

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

1, 2,

"Hello, bag please."

3, 4,

"Clear, next."

1, 2,

"Morning, bag please."

3, 4,

"All good, next."

1, 2,

"Hey, Steve, How's the family?"

3, 4,

"Pretty good! Becca and the kids..." Dammit.

1, 2,

"No way, that's great!" Move.

3, 4,

1-

"Why are we staring at them?"

"Dammit, Wade, let 'em think."

"Guys." You close your eyes, the rhythm has been disrupted. Wade was breathing down your neck, trying to understand what you were doing. Both Wade and Logan stood behind you with crossed arms. Like some sort of bodyguard boy band.

Eyes opening again, you find the line has moved on once more. Chatty John Doe finally left and the rhythm continued. A steady beat of four. "Hello, welcome." One, two, "Have a nice visit," Three, four.

"Your ass looks good in those," Wade mutters to Logan. Who slaps him upside the head.

"Guys." You grit, whipping around. Finding the grumpiest man alive to be - wait for it - scowling. Whereas Wade smiles boyishly, adjusting the cow printed bucket hat you lent him. It was from an... interesting phase of your life.

His thumbs slide under the frog-themed overall straps, laying them neatly on the black tee underneath. "You sure these are good disguises? I mean, it's not easy to hide..." He pauses for a moment, muscles of his brows tensing. Pushing through the unsaid thought, he smirks again. "All this." He gestures down himself.

Logan sniffed, sharing a look. So much unsaid, yet you two learned the trade of Wade. With a low sigh, the grump stepped up, helping the merc with his hat.

"You look fine." He gruffs and tugs the edge of it over his eyes. A rare moment of a smile earned from Wade's whine.

"You're right. It's impossible to hide perfection." You add on with a calm shrug. "We'll just have to hope it can dim it down for a couple of hours."

A genuine smile crosses his face for a moment. Then the cocky I-eat-cock smile is back on. "I know, I must make you both so very hard."

Logan whacks him again.

Reaching into your purse, you fish out two metal disks. Little red lights glimmering invitingly - and Wade snatches one. Making you grumble a sigh.

"These are to help direct the detectors." Logan waited, unlike his counterpart, with folded arms. Watching you explain carefully, nodding once. "You have a metal hip." Your fingers shoved into his waistband.

"I have more than that." His frown lines deepened while he eyed you shimmy your hand down his pants. The cold of the thin disk made his eyes narrow.

Turning to Wade, you found him trying to pull his overalls down.

"No." You took back your little disk, hiding it on his side. Right below his pectoral. "You get a metal rib."

"What?!" He fussed. "When will I feel your hand down MY pants?" You turn away as he pouts.

If each person took four beats, Wade needed to be further down. 6, maybe 7 people away since you and Logan would take up at least 12 counts to bargain with the safety officer. Only three lines. All of them equally as long and getting longer by the minute. You would take the second one. The man working there seemed fed up, he would most definitely deny Logan any sort of special treatment. The lady on the left seemed too caring, she would compliment Wade too much.

The older fella on the right. He took 1, 2, 3, 'have a nice day' - but he would probably have terrible memory. The line seemed shorter for that exact reason.

Wade links his arm with you while you work things out in your head. Laying his chin on your shoulder. At least he was quiet. That less than professional bucket hat nudging your temple.

"You're gonna be with the man over there," Your arm tightens around his, pointing to the kind old man. Who is currently fumbling with a lady's thick leather purse.

Before he can whine and kick and throw a fit, you wave Logan closer. "We're going to the middle - Mister Meanie over there."

Wade pulls back, slack in the jaw. "You're partnering with him? Not me?" He gasped in horror. "What does this fossil have that I don't?!"

"An entire skeleton made of metal." You remained unphased. Logan cracked a quiet smirk.

"Oh, boo hoo." He scoffed, walking away. "No one cares for Deadpool, as usual."

Logan beats you to it, catching Wade's arm before he could storm off and weep. His grip on his bicep firm. But no words leave him. He looked to you for help.

"It'll be over quick." You tried to reassure. "Wait behind 6 people, two more than Logan and I. Then, we'll meet right back up after the alarms go off. Promise."

He continued to pout, but took your word. Easing into a giddy grin when you blew him a kiss, yanking Logan to the center line.

"Do I get one of those?" The living fossil muttered. Barely enough to be heard.

"What?"

"Nothin'." He shook his head instead. Standing by your side in that ridiculous 'scary dog' stance. Legs parted and arms crossed. Glaring ahead. You began to count.

1, 2,

"Welcome."

3, 4,

"Clear, next."

Glancing to Wade, you spot him fidgeting. Shifting from foot to foot, and frequently looking your way. "You sure this'll work?" Logan broke your focus.

"I've tried it before." His brow arched. "Accidentally. But it happened."

"You know another man of metal?" His brows settled heavily over his eyes.

"No, I forgot to take off my chain necklaces at the same time a lady walked through with a hydro flask." You awkwardly looked away. "It was interesting."

He huffed and his shoulders eased. "Sounds like it."

The line was moving as expected. No chatty Jane, or sluggish John. Wade was watching with twitching fingers. Panic building as you and Logan reached the front of the line before him. Mouth dry as he felt like he was messing up the plan. Could cut through, he decided. Ready to push through the toddle and mother in front of him.

"Pardon me," The ugliest country accent you can manage. Wade's eyes widen at the sound, and you can feel Logan cringe in shame behind you. "My uncle 'ere from the war, wit da metal hip, he ain't got his card. Doctor said he ain't gettin' his new one til next week."

Logan feels a physical repulsion towards the security guard who takes a long glance at you. Resisting a snarl as the guard shared a look with his co-worker. The two of them sharing a smile.

"Not happening, sweetheart." Oh, he wanted to bash the mall cop's head. Yet you smiled, it was exactly as you wanted.

Sparing a glance to Wade, he was almost in sync. "C'mon, officer, I ain't trying to be naughty." You bat your lashes and pout your lips.

Wade stepped up to the metal detector. "No. Step through." He waves Logan through.

The perfect symphony to your crime creating ears; every alarm goes off. The one your man of metal went through shut down completely. Wade shrieked over and over again. The third one feeling pressured to join in the circuit screaming. Throwing everyone into the perfect panic.

You sighed in peace, watching as more security ran out. Beckoning three people from each row over and lining you all up against the nearest wall. Logan took to your left, and Wade bounced on your right. He tried for your hand, but you refused, an officer running a handheld scanner over you all.

It beeped when it sensed the disk on Wade. "Metal rib, from a motorcycle crash." He smiled, repeating the rehearsed line. "Damn... Vietnam." Left Logan in a weak accent as the detector chirped over his hip. Another lady failed to disclose the piercing in her ear, funnily enough.

Once the hubbub was over, and the guards adapted to scanning by the small held gadgets, you met up with your boys.

"Jesus, what was that?" Logan followed behind. Earning a confused look.

"What was what?" You fixed the way your shirt fit.

"That accent." He grumbled. "I needed to prepare for that."

You snicker. "I said you wouldn't have to talk much." Logan shook his head, hands deep in his leather over flannel jacket pockets.

Wade had already run ahead of you. Wanting to touch and grope anything he could get his hands on. Thinking of what else he would want to steal. Only interrupted when you had to stop him from opening a case with several old time-y guns.

"No! No, look!" He fought back, wiggling out of your hold and prodding at the glass harshly. "It's Logan's!"

You halted. Intrigued and leaning in, you find a musket beside a short story of the 'heroic James L.H.' You snorted so hard, Logan had to figure out what was going on.

"Is that yours?" You cover your mouth. He's quick to growl no. But he's leaning in now.

"Shit." He murmurs. Wade slapping your shoulder from how hard he's been laughing in silence. Your hands firmly placed over your mouth as Logan mumbles to himself, reading and re-reading the story. "Is it?"

You're getting weird stares. You can feel the eyes of a Karen and her child glare through the back of your head. But you and Wade can't stand upright without help, wheezing and hitting each other while Logan comes to terms with being that old.

"That's fuckin' mine?" He swears, trying to open the case to get a better look. Only stopping when you take his hand and lead him away. Shaking your head. "That's... is that my property?"

Wade chortles, snorting from laughing so hard. Hands on his knees as another round of giggles overtook him. The old man grabs the back of his shirt and pulls him along.

"Enough of that, you're gonna attract attention." He grumbles, scratching his sideburns.

"I want your attention." Wade argues, biting his lip. Satisfied when he earns a huff. You meant to add on. Shove it in Logan's face about being the oldest man alive.

When the most obnoxious sound hit your ears.

All three of you halt in your tracks. The lighting of the museum is dimmed in this section as The Avengers theme song played throughout the exhibition. Your face to face with Iron Man's first iron suit.

Logan breaks the silence first. "Fuckin' hell." His fists tightening. A vein in his arm throbbing. Attractive, but scary. He was ready to punch the glass.

You glanced over the exhibit, but there was no way around this. Not to get where you wanted.

"It's fine." A promise you don't even believe. It's not like looking at all these people, hearing their theme, and seeing all the things they've accomplished as humans makes you feel weak.

You weren't any different. You were an incredible human turned vigilante, too! They had suits to do good. You didn't need armor, or super serum, or a germ to make you strong. They were weak. Even if they did have a whole exhibit for them.

They didn't get to steal things, so...

You halt in front of the portrait of Natasha Romanov. A woman with no special suit or powers, a victim of the Red Room. Once considered nothing but a tool, fought her way to the top to run with the best heroes in the world. With nothing but stealth and strength. Coming from nothing to rise to greatness.

Where you, who comes from nothing, stayed there. Embraced it. Became the best thief in the world. But... was that anything worthwhile? Seeing all what you could become, knowing you stayed where you were. Staring in the face of everything you wanted to be. Someone who meant something.

"Hey, it's you this time!" Wade called out again. While Logan was having a staring contest with the mannequin of Captain America, the merc pulled you over to show you Spider-Man's display.

But hey, you knew who Spider-Man was. And you had slept with him. Several times. How many Avengers could say that?

"Look." He points, in his frog-themed overalls and ridiculous cow bucket hat. Smiling widely as you lean in. It was you.

An article from the Daily Bugle framed beside one of Miguel's first spider suits. It was the ugliest iteration of his persona. Bright red and blue, big white eyes. Not fancy like his new technological one.

The article held a photo of a silhouetted stunning figure leaping across rooftops with a bag of cash. 'Can Spider-Man catch this Cat?' One of your first heists ever recorded. And J. Jonah Jameson used the fact that the anonymous Spider-Man couldn't catch you to his advantage. The whole article dragging the man and his skills for about three paragraphs.

"That's a great angle." You turn your head aside to snicker as Wade whistles. His hand on your back as he leans in. "Really adds to the mysterious aura you have."

"I don't think that's actually me." You break his bubble with a chuckle. "I never let people get photos of me on the job."

"Maybe not now, but I know that ass better than my own." He hits his finger on the glass, above the article. "Logan can confirm."

Logan grunts. You hadn't realized he joined the two of you until now. Side eyeing him.

"Was that a yes?" You stand upright. Logan shrugs. Your jaw drops a little, and you want to make fun of him.

Except you don't have time to when Logan reacts faster than a bullet. Scooping you and Wade in his arms and dodging under a less dangerous, less glass filled exhibit when the roof comes caving in. Screaming fills your ears but it's flooded by familiar curses in Spanish.

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Thank you for reader! And remember, Logan and Wade think readers who comment and reblog are sexy and deserve a million kisses!

Taglist: @laysmt @luckysimp @bontensbabygirl @czareena @ghost-lantern

[callsign-rogueone]

letters from samara - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x reader (Angel!) part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 1.0k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS, part of my Garrick and Angel series, so read that first for context! no other warnings, just kinda soft and sad.

Someone drops a thick envelope onto the table in front of you. “From Samara. They said it was important.”

Samara. Brennan had told you that’s where Garrick and Xaden are. Your hands shake as you open the seal, but you relax at the familiar slant of Garrick’s handwriting. 

My angel,

I will start with what I know you’re most worried about: I am alive, I am safe, and so is X. He’s brooding in the corner of the room right now -- he’s not taking it well being apart from Vi, but command has allowed them visits every two weeks for Tairn and Sgaeyl’s sakes. 

We both miss you more than words can describe. I wish I could have said goodbye before we left, or that we could have taken you with us, but X wouldn’t hear arguments from anyone. I have never seen him that serious about anything before. 

I’m so sorry, angel. For all of it, everything. You didn’t deserve to be put through any of that, and I know how deeply it hurt you. It was terrifying to see you that way, so drained and cold. I can’t imagine what it felt like. 

Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, my love. You are the most kindhearted person I’ve ever known, and I love that about you, but you have to think of your own needs as well. You deserve peace and rest, especially now. Sleep in as long as you want, make time for your meditation. I’m sure the gardens would appreciate your attention as well; I swear you could make roses grow in dry sand as long as you smiled at them every day. 

I couldn’t bear to burn anything of yours, knowing that your heart still beats. I kept the things I thought to be most important to you and took them here with me. I will return them to you as soon as I can, but they are a comfort to me now — my room here feels like it did at Basgiath, with little touches of you scattered around. I keep watching the door, thinking that any moment you’ll come knocking to walk to class with me, or if I reach across the bed in the morning, you’ll be beside me again. I don’t know when I’ll see you next, but I know in my heart that I will. There is nothing and no-one that could keep me from you. 

Yours always,

G

On the sheet below, another.

Until I can lay by your side and tell you about my days, I’ll keep writing to you about them instead.

Being here feels like being a fresh cadet all over again, but different -- bottom of the food chain, getting the shifts nobody wants, but at least we don’t have to constantly prove our strength like we did in our first year at Basgiath, and we already have our dragons. 

One of Chradh’s relatives is here, which is cool. I think they’re cousins? They look damn near identical. I walked up to the wrong one on the flight line the other day -- thankfully the guy has a better sense of humor than Chradh, but I’m never making that mistake again.

Every rider here seemed to know exactly who we were when we arrived. Some of them have been more subtle with their distaste for us than others, but nobody’s been dumb enough to try anything -- probably because we look like we can fight, and because Sgaeyl is fucking terrifying, even more so now that she’s separated from Tairn. 

I just got off a 12-hour patrol shift, and I’m exhausted, but it’s hard to sleep without you here. I don’t think we’ve ever been apart this long in our lives. Being without either of you has never even felt like a possibility before; it’s always been us three together through the good and the bad. Someday it’ll be like that again, I know it will.

Brennan is the best mender I have ever known. If you choose, he can help you strengthen your ability, but please don’t push yourself too far. I need you to be in one piece when I get back. 

There are three more sheets underneath, one in Xaden’s rough script and two more from Garrick, the last dated four days ago -- likely the day he’d sent it. 

You realize what an incredible risk it was to write to you at all. It wouldn’t take a genius to put together that X is Xaden, that you’re hiding in Aretia, that you’d faked your death, or rather that your friends had faked it for you. How many hands did these pages pass through to reach you? How many others out there are on your side? 

You bring a hand up to cover your yawn, realizing how tired you are. The sun has gone down, a small mage light the only thing illuminating the corner of the study that you occupy. It’s likely nearing midnight.

“The letters and the books will still be there in the morning,” Tab says gently. “Sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

You look down at the torn piece of fabric you’ve been staring at for the last four hours. It has not yet sewn itself back together, no matter how hard you concentrated or “cleared your mind”, how gently you touched it. You’d even asked it nicely, but it did not dignify you with a response.

You set the letters aside for a moment, stacking up the books that you’d found in the house’s library about mending and placing them in a neat pile in the corner of the table you’ve been sitting at every evening for the last week. You fold the black cotton into quarters, setting it atop the pile -- you’ll try again tomorrow.

You can’t help but smile as you tuck the letters back into the envelope, brushing your fingers over the wax seal.

Garrick is right, this is the longest you’ve ever been apart, but as you gaze out the window into the starry sky, holding the letters he’d written you, the distance between you doesn’t seem that far.

[mayiwritesomething]

Love Is An Unfamiliar Name (Pt. 6)

Wordcount: 1,3 k

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

A/N: not much to say, just the two enjoying each other and being a bit vulnerable.

Warnings: +18, sex, oral sex (not explicit but it’s there), some curse words.

PART FIVE

—

Stay

After pleasing him once more, you climbed back to face him with a naughty smile, his fingers tracing your back as he gazed at you with a smile of his own. Cupping your face with one hand, he pulled you closer for a kiss.

"I hate you," you playfully muttered between kisses.

"I know..." he replied, planting soft kisses on your neck and chin as he adjusted your position on top of him, so he could be inside. As you tried to remain quiet, he reassured you, "Babe, you don't need to worry about that. It's okay to make some noise."

"Not… fuck— not at 12 pm, though—right?" you expressed surprise at his unconcern. "What…will… ah… people think?"

"The same thing they thought if they heard anything at night," he chuckled. "You didn't seem to care about that a few hours ago."

"Jesus! How in the hell can someone be so annoying?" you attempted to wriggle free from his embrace, but he held you tighter. Your hips moved involuntarily as he tried to kiss you. "No," you resisted, pushing him back to lie down.

"Look at her, she’s angry," he teased, complying with your command.

"You've never seen me angry, baby," you bantered, drawing close to him but refraining from kissing. Close enough for him to feel your heavy breathing as his hands were now holding your hips tightly. You held his arms as hard as you could. He couldn’t hold his moan this time, you loved to see this scene.

"This… is torture, you know," he remarked, eyes fixed on your lips, his pace quickening as you tried to slow down yours.

"Well, you can get your revenge another day," you chuckled, giving him a gentle but swift kiss, than humming aftferwards. "Now we have an excuse to… meet again—fuck—my room this time." He loved to watch you trying to hold yourself back.

"Sounds like a plan to me," he agreed, pulling you closer. "Can I keep going like this?" he asked tentatively as you felt him going a bit faster. You nodded moaning in confirmation, no longer resisting, you wanted to reach your climax as much as him. So you both kept going until the so awaited moment. It felt you both ran a marathon.

You typically avoided sleepovers, always leaving after getting what you wanted with the excuse of work the next day. This time, however, you felt a strange desire to stay, and apparently, he felt the same. The companionship, conversations, bad jokes, shared shower, and talks of the future all hinted at a deeper connection between you. Pretending not to be scared, you both acknowledged the ticking clock as it struck 2 PM.

"I should head back to my room," you said, searching for your phone.

"Let me order us some food first?" he suggested, hinting that he didn't want you to leave.

"Okay," you agreed, hinting that you also wanted to stay as he picked the hotel’s intercom. When you found your phone, you were bombarded with notifications.

A message from Amy: Are you alive?

Another from Timmy: Had a great night, huh?

Jenny: Did you just have a sleepover? 😱 I went to your room, where the hell are you?

Maria: Save a horse! You know what to do 😈 xx

You chuckled and opened the group chat, finding over 50 messages. Some were from the girls expressing concern as there was no sign of you, while others shared details from Jenny’s night. One message in particular made you burst out laughing: Maria's, which read, "Of course she won't answer us, she's probably riding the guy right now."

"Are your friends curious too?," Pedro observed as he hugged you from behind, catching you off guard as he felt your muscles thightening. "Sorry... I should have warned you beforehand, right?" he worriedly apologized.

"I'll get used to it," you shyly replied. "After all, I am a hedgehog," you joked.

"It's all an act, I know," he teased, trailing kisses along your neck and holding you tightly. "…Last night, you were quite physical," he reminded you playfully.

"Last night, you were quite physical," you retorted him, pretending to try to escape his embrace. “Fuck you”

"Did I lie? It'll be hard to forget that entrance...” you just hummed in response, “I still have to work tomorrow, baby, you’re the one who’s got a free week," he reminded you, kissing you softly.

“Finally, don't you think?" you retorted, stepping out of his embrace. "Unlike actors, our job extends waaaay beyond the filming hours. And we are paid much less by the way, if you didn’t know that" you added frustrated, a hint of anger in your voice.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to belittle it," he realized his mistake, seeing you now with crossed arms and a stern expression.

"Think twice next time, asshole," you scolded him, sounding annoyed.

"I know it was a dumb comment, sorry," he apologized, coming to hug you.

"Yes it was…," you acknowledged as you allowed him to embrace you. "But I'll forgive you this time."

"Thanks," he said, gazing at you and holding your chin. "Have I ever told you how fucking amazing you are?" Your cheeks flushed as he spoke.

“A few times my friend" You held his face and you kissed him slowly.

His phone started vibrating on the table, but he didn't let go of you as he reached for it. While he answered the call, you continued to run your fingers along his neck, feeling his skin as he now was tracing your back with his index finger.

"Yes, she's here," he spoke into the phone, and you couldn't help but freeze at your mention, you stepped back.

“Who's that?" you asked, shocked, but he gestured for you to wait.

As he covered the phone's speaker, he turned to you and asked, "Babe, did you have a flight today?" The realization hit you like a ton of bricks - you had completely forgotten about your flight to LA, a short trip to your home that you had been looking forward to. "Oh my god," you muttered, laughing at your own forgetfulness. "Fuck… I did... at like 11 am," you added with a chuckle.

Returning to his call, he explained the situation to Jennifer. "Yeah, I'll tell her to drop by. Thanks, Jen. Bye. See you," he concluded the call, turning back to you with a sheepish look.

"I guess I'll have to book another flight," you said, trying to lighten the mood with a laugh.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"For what?" you asked, genuinely confused.

"Making you stay, causing you to miss your flight."

"I wanted to stay," you admitted, surprising both yourself and him. "I want to stay."

"I want you to stay," he confessed, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity.

"So staying is what I will do," you declared with a smile, feeling a sense of peace in your decision.

"Great," he said, pulling you closer in a reassuring embrace.

"I'm hungry," you mentioned, shifting the conversation to a lighter topic. "Did they give you an estimate for when the food will arrive?"

"30 to 40 minutes until we can eat," he replied. "But there's something else I'd like to enjoy before the main course arrives." He added, you felt the filthyness on his tone.

"I thought I was the main course! How dare you?" you teased, feigning offense.

"You are the appetizer, main course and dessert baby," he chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he guided you to the bed.

"We still have some time," you remarked staring at the clock, playing with his hair as he showered your skin with kisses, gradually undressing you. "You can have your appetizer" you smiled.

"Thank you baby," he murmured, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he focused on pleasuring you, his name falling from your lips in ecstasy as he devoted himself to your pleasure.

Don’t give a fuck about a flight. This is way better than going to LA.

“Don't—Don't you go

Won't you stay with me one more day?

If we get through one more night

If we get through one more night”

[positivexcellence]

Interview: Jared Padalecki on the ‘Walker’ Finale, What He Learned as an Executive Producer, and More

We got the chance to talk to Jared all about the Walker finale, what it was like being buried in episode 12, what he’s learned as a producer, and more.

Nerds & Beyond: Episode 11 was one of my favorite episodes, it was just incredible. What was it like having Genevieve [Padalecki] and Matt [Barr] back for that episode? Can you talk more about it?

Jared Padalecki: I mean, selfishly as Jared, I was thrilled to have Matt back. I adore Matt Barr, I love him with all my heart. It was so great to have him in Austin. Again, selfishly as Jared, I was happy to have Gen there and we brought our kids to set and they got to hold the markers and clap us onto a scene, which was really awesome.

Then selfishly as Cordell Walker, or as an actor, I got to do some weird, cool stuff that not a lot of projects give you the opportunity to explore. Damn, I mean, I’m kind of feeling this way right now… if I could go back and redo it… like if this never happened, how would I do it? How would I feel? What would it be? Would it be closure? Would it be even worse? Would it be just a further tease? There were a lot of storylines that I got to tell within that one episode. I felt really grateful for Anna [Fricke] and for our run on TV to be able to do. So, all around, I was just really excited to go play in that playground.

Nerds & Beyond: Then in episode 12, we see Cordell get saved by the team after being buried alive. What was that process like?

Jared: You know what’s funny, is that on Walker, I’ve done a lot of great, fun, kind of random or strange stunt sequences, like driving a truck full speed up a parking garage, and being in fight sequences in strange areas. There have always been these things like racing horses with Dave Annable around the barn… there have been times where it’s like, “Okay, well, there’s probably some danger here,” and they’re gonna come and say like, “Hey, do you feel comfortable? We’re gonna be here. Just say if it doesn’t work for you.”

That scene specifically was probably the most they’ve ever come up to me and been like, “Hey, sorry, we’ll have a straw for you. You can breathe. We’ll do this, we’ll do that.” They were really concerned. I am not claustrophobic, thank God. So, I didn’t have some of the concerns that a lot of the other producers, stunt coordinators, and safety coordinators did. I was like, “This kind of sounds cool, this is gonna look fucking cool.”

I actually talked to [Jensen] Ackles, because he had done “Lazarus Rising”, the premiere of season four [of Supernatural], where he was buried in a similar situation, and got his two cents on it. And I was like, “I’m kind of excited.” To have an episode like 411, you can’t just all of a sudden [go], “Oh, Cordell is back, here we go.” There needs to be some drama. There needs to be some cool stuff. It was one of the few things that I don’t think I’ve ever done before. I’ve done plenty of stuff in my career, but I don’t think I’ve been buried alive. And so I was like, “Cool, let’s go ahead and get this Boy Scouts badge.”

For the buried alive part, they dug a grave and they first buried me up to my shoulders. Coby [Bell] was having some back issues, he had been on a flight and he had just kind of tweaked his back. We’re like, “Well, Jeff Pierre’s here, so guess what, Jeff? You’re carrying Padalecki.” I’m 205-210 pounds, and that’s not an easy way to pull somebody out of a grave, there’s no leverage. But Jeff Pierre is a king among men. And, he’s like, “Alright, I got him.” So between Jeff and Coby, they lifted me out and wiped the dirt and blood off my face. That was exciting.

What I enjoyed less, was spending all day in that makeup because then we had the sequence where Captain James walked Cordell over to Cassie and Trey, and so I kinda just stayed in that makeup and outfit for twelve hours. The actual doing of the acting was amazing, but trying to go to lunch with all that stuff on your face… you don’t want to wash it off, it’ll take an hour back on. So it’s just sort of like, I want to scratch my face, I’m sweaty and hot and nasty. But all in all, I knew it was gonna be something that, until the day I die, I’ll be proud to have been a part of. So, you kind of grin and bear it.

Nerds & Beyond: That sounds intense, though!

Jared: It was yeah, it was, in a great way. It looked intense.

Nerds & Beyond: When you got the official call that Walker would no longer continue, what was that call like?

Jared: I did have some version of a heads up, but it still was like we didn’t believe it or understand it. The heads up was obvious when they put out their upfront list of shows they were intending for the ’24-’25 season, and we weren’t listed. You didn’t have to be a producer on the show to go like, “Well, this is strange.” There were obvious hints and clues both publicly and privately that kind of leaned toward, “This doesn’t look good.”

But the strange thing is that’s been my life, that’s been my career. Gilmore Girls was on the bubble for many years. Supernatural was on the bubble for many years. And the season three, season four, kind of world that TV shows live on, it’s like, well, if you do five or six, you can probably do twenty-five or twenty-six. But you’ve got to get to five or six. We all just kind of were like, “Well, let’s look at the numbers.” And, the show would air, it would be the most watched show on CW, and we’d be like, “Okay, cool. Brad Schwartz said if the performance maintained, then we’re gonna go again. Well, we’re maintaining, we’re still the most-watched show on the network.” We were worried privately, but then we were like, “Well, shoot, we’re fulfilling our obligation. Why would they possibly not pick us up?”

It’s really funny, I find myself talking about the show [and] I’m having a tough time saying canceled. I’m kind of saying, just, we weren’t picked up for season five, which I guess is one and the same. I’m finding it a bit easier to just say we weren’t picked up instead of saying we were canceled. Just semantics.

I didn’t find out officially until probably an hour before I made that post. So, I legit didn’t know officially until… I’ve learned in this industry until it’s official, it’s not official. We always joke as actors, It’s like, you get a job, and they’re like, “Well, how do you feel? Are you excited?” You’re like, “Well, yeah… I’ll be excited when I get my first paycheck.” When they aired me on television, I was the third or fourth Dean on Gilmore Girls. So, you shoot the show, you get your paycheck and then they recast and they shoot again, they get their paycheck, then they recast again, you get your paycheck. So you never really know, you kind of live in this limbo of like, “Well, is it gonna air? Am I going to be on more?” I finished the episode and I got the paycheck, but it hasn’t aired yet, so they can still recast me. It happens more often than I think people realize.

I maintained hope and to this day, sitting at the Side Step with John Patterson today, I still have this weird hope in my head. Like you know Wednesday [the day of the finale] is gonna happen, and they’re gonna realize how amazing the show is, how little they pay for it, and how high the quality is, and they’re gonna come to their senses. The way my day worked out, I think it was May 22 or 21, whatever that day was I made that post, I got a call from David Stapf at CBS and he gave it to me straight. He’s like, “Hey, man. Here’s the deal. Walker’s not gonna go season five.” I was sort of like, “Okay, thank you for calling me.” By the way, somebody like David Stapf doesn’t need to call me, his assistant can call me, he can send me an email, they can post it on his own through CBS channels. But he gave me the quality character move to go, like, “I want to call Jared. I don’t want it to be announced until I talk to Jared and ask him how he wants to announce it.” Then he said to me, “Hey, if you want to talk to Brad, he’d love to talk to you as well.” I was like, “Okay, of course. Yeah.” Brad and I have worked together for a year, and, you know, I was still super confused. I’m super confused now. So I was sort of like, “Okay, I don’t know what to say. My head’s kind of spinning, I leave in three days for Europe for a month. But yeah, I’ll absolutely talk to Brad.” So then David and I hung up, and it was a great conversation. I mean, he was very flattering of the show and the family we have and sort of himself seemingly kind of confused about the way it was all going down and the linear TV world that we live in. But he was like, “This is where we kind of sit,” and I just was extremely grateful for the conversation.

I called Brad and Brad kind of said the same. Brad reiterated, “Hey, dude, you know, you’ve been on CW since its inception. We’ll follow your lead here. Do you want to announce it yourself? Do you want us to announce it? Do you want to avoid it entirely, or do you want to be a part of it? We’ll go with your gut.” And my gut was, I have a great relationship with the fandom, to use a generic term, and I was like, “I actually would love to be the one that kind of says it.” So they obliged and I scrambled together a quick post, just being as honest as possible, and sent it out there. There was zero time between finding out and announcing it. It took me half an hour or whatever to try and figure out how to try and communicate how grateful I was, and how much love I had for everybody before sending it out, but it was a quick turnaround.

Nerds & Beyond: The finale has moments that seemed to leave the characters in a good space. Was that a conscious choice to sort of wrap things up on the off chance there wouldn’t be another season?

Jared: 100%. We talked, because at the time when we were shooting 12-13 which we cross-boarded, we didn’t know if we were picked up or not. We kind of assumed we were judging by the numbers and what we had heard from the network prior about if the numbers remained, and they did. It didn’t feel like it was something you could appropriately wrap up in an episode anyway. Like, we didn’t want to deliver a bad episode just for the sake of ‘wrapping up a storyline’. So I think what we wanted, not just if there would have been seasons five through fifteen, but if there would have been season four and done, was this idea that all the characters still had hope. I mean, it’s difficult to wrap up a TV show, right? You can do the whole they’re at a diner or you can do the whole ‘everybody dies’, but neither felt appropriate for Walker and the cast of characters. So, we kind of talked about what is something that if we end here, we’re happy with, but if we carry on, it’s seamless to go forward. And everybody, every character has something that we want to watch. So we left it there and there were back and forths. There were conversations, obviously, but ultimately, it came down to every character has something in their life that they can look forward to. They also have problems and that’s life, you have problems and you have opportunities, but I’m very happy with the finale.

Nerds & Beyond: How do you feel about Cordell’s decision to take a leave of absence and take his family on vacation?

Jared: I think it’s been a long time coming. I think it’s a great statement on mental health and work-life balance, and it’s something that I’m kind of in the process of thinking about myself right now. Twenty-four years in the industry and nineteen years as number one on the call sheet, it takes a lot out of you and you sacrifice time with your kids, with your spouse, with your friends, with yourself. And I think it can at times not only be beneficial, but it can be necessary. So, I was proud of Cordell for making that decision, and I was excited to see how he came back after he had some time, but that’ll live in our imaginations, I suppose.

Nerds & Beyond: Cordell has made such incredible character growth from the first season to now. What has been your favorite part of getting to play him over the last four seasons?

Jared: What I really loved about Walker, and Cordell specifically, is that we got to see somebody who was flawed and who made mistakes and was humble, who tried. Sometimes he was a little slow to learn, but ultimately he tried to learn, he was eager to learn, eager to humble himself and be humbled around people he loved and trusted. So, that was a good reminder in my own personal life of like, “Hey, when someone says something a thousand times, maybe just listen, give it a shot. Why not?” You know, life happens… and it’s about what to do, what we can do better, what others can do better, how to ask, how to accept help. And so Walker remained as open-minded as a flawed human being could remain. I really appreciated that.

Nerds & Beyond: Do you have a favorite memory or moment from this last season?

Jared: Gen and I, during the ceremony/funeral scene in 411, had our kids there. Just the way it worked out, they hadn’t been able to be there a lot even though ironically, it was shot in Austin. But we shoot during the school year so they’re in school, or even season one, it was the COVID protocol. So if you weren’t vaccinated and didn’t have a mask in season one, it would have been that they’re twenty feet away in a mask, swabs up their nose, and wouldn’t have been a great experience anyways. So by the time 411 came and Anna [Fricke] was there directing and you know, she created the characters in the show, that was really special.

I think the speech that Cordell gives at August’s graduation was one of those moments… we’re at Storm Ranch, hadn’t been there all season, and the majority of the cast was there, and we got to hang out and laugh. It was this beautiful night in Austin, Texas. It was just one of those feelings… I had that feeling every time we shot a dinner table scene or breakfast scene where when we got everybody on set… it was just a great time and we did work I’m really proud of. It was just great to see everybody’s face and everyone working together cohesively, so I think those two, just offhand, stuck out to me the most.

Nerds & Beyond: After the news of the cancellation, were you able to take anything from the set?

Jared: Yeah, I took some of the clothes that meant something to me and a four-season show, several changes a day, there were racks and racks and racks of clothing. I went back to certain things that really are kind of like hallmarks for me. I have Duke’s outfit, I have his Texas Rangers hat, I have that blue suit I wore with Twyla, I have a few things that really just meant a lot to me wardrobe-wise. I have my boots, I have a couple of cowboy hats, and set-wise I have the Texas mug from the Side Step and I grabbed the pool cue from the Side Step. I was laughing, in season one or two, I brought my own pool cue from home to use in the show, and then I think I went home and forgot that I’d taken it, so I was like, “I donated one so now I’m just taking it back.” I have a few little knickknacks that are special to me. One of the things that I received as a gift was my Ranger belt. I wore it all the time and it was both the bane of my existence because they’re not super comfortable, but also just something really special. That will sit on my desk in my office forever. I also have my Ranger parking Cordell Walker little emblem that I’ll put somewhere in my garage.

Nerds & Beyond: Walker was your first Executive Producer gig. Is that something you want to continue with further?

Jared: That’s kind of all I’m interested in. Acting is fun and can be fun at times, but I love the nuts and bolts of it, of trying to figure out several characters, how it all works together, how it all affects each other. I would happily just EP forever. I think acting is a bit more of a commitment. Again, I don’t not enjoy it. It’s fun, I love it, but I like exploring scenes. I love trying to go through different iterations of characters or their motivations, figuring out why they would make the decisions they make.

I would love to keep developing. You know, if a role comes up that makes sense, and it’s exciting or it’s somebody I want to work with, or a project I’m excited about, or a director I’ve never worked with that I want to then, yeah, call me up and I’ll see if Gen doesn’t mind watching the kids for a couple of weeks, or a couple months. But in the meantime, I like reading a book more than telling people what book I read, if that makes sense.

Nerds & Beyond: Everyone I’ve talked to about Walker has said that it has an exceptional set atmosphere. A lot of people attribute that atmosphere to you, as well. Why was it so important to foster that kind of environment where there’s a real work-life balance?

Jared: That’s the intense loss I feel. As much as I love Walker, the character, and Walker, the show, I feel a deep loss about what happened that didn’t make it to a television screen. The relationships that were built and fostered, the work atmosphere… I think over many years and almost 500 episodes of television, I’ve seen firsthand how a toxic atmosphere doesn’t save time. The more you yell, the more you gripe and bitch, and blame doesn’t mean that you’re gonna go faster and higher quality. Set people up for success, and hopefully, they set you up for success also. And then all of a sudden a day that could be twelve hours is nine hours. Like, “Wow… I’m home three hours earlier.”

I certainly cannot take credit for it. I mean, I’m sure I had a heavy vote in that arena. Kim Manners said something to Jensen Ackles and me many, many years ago. I think it was season one. In a True Kim Manners attitude, it was something like, pardon my French, “I spend more time with you fuckers than I do my wife, my kids, our dog, and my home. So if I’m not having a good time, why the fuck would I be here?” And it just made sense. No one’s holding a gun to our head telling us, “Hey, you better go act.” So if you’re not having a good time, then, “Hey, go find something and I wish you well. And if I’m not having a good time, then what am I doing here?” So I think we all reached that place on Walker.

I loved the Supernatural set, and I love it to this day and I hope we get to see each other again. The Walker set was just even more of a family. We’re all at home, we all went through horrible, horrible situations as far as people getting sick or in car accidents or pandemics or strikes, and everybody just felt like family.

Nerds & Beyond: You can tell just how much of a close-knit family you all were, so I can’t imagine how hard that loss is. I know it just finished airing and you’re not that far removed from it yet, but looking back, what are you going to take away from your experience on Walker?

Jared: It can be done. I think that’s going to be a message that sticks with me in all aspects of my life, til the day I die. It can be done. Surround yourself with good people and positivity. When you start thinking about like, “Oh, I’ll never be able to do this. Oh, this will never happen.” Walker was proof that it can be done. When you allow yourself to… I’d rather trust and have my heart broken than never trust and never fall in love. I trusted Walker and I fell in love and it was gone too soon. And it will be, to quote Jeff Buckley, “the tear that hangs inside my soul forever.” But, it can be done and it reignited my belief in people and storytelling. Best idea wins. Be honest and be humble. So to your point, I’m still fresh off and I haven’t yet really swallowed all my feelings and emotions enough to digest them, but just thrilled that we proved it could be done. And we’ll always know it.

Nerds & Beyond: Be proud of it, for sure. I love that there’s been a theme in the last few episodes about not being sad that it’s over, being glad that it happened.

Jared: Yeah. I’ll take that as well.

Nerds & Beyond: Fans have built an incredible community within the Walker family. Is there anything you’d love to say to them?

Jared: So many things I’d love to say. First and foremost, thanks for the trust. Thanks for the passion. I know that when Supernatural ended a lot of our Supernatural family trusted enough to kind of come give Walker a try. I feel like maybe after Supernatural ended many probably felt that it was gone too soon, but they trusted that life went on and came over and it’s really special. That’s where I find myself right now.

And so seeing their example, I’m just grateful. I’m just a guy who happens to act, and it’s an honor when someone’s interested in what you do creatively. Thank you, now and always.

Nerds and Beyond

[sasha199]

Gale/ Rolan Drama Part 12

Read all of me on A03

Mayhem and Madness

Okay BIG trigger warning for smut, like a lot of it. Fem Tav, human.

Y’all…this game hits different when your Tav is a stand in for yourself.

My sister and I are playing a multiplayer as ourselves, as sisters. I (Sasha) was romancing both Gale and Wyll. Sister (Marlie) is pulling both Astarion and Shadowheart

After a few hours of sleep I stir from my bedroll to go find Gale. I smile to see him waiting for me outside of his tent. As I draw near it's clear that he is illuminated by some sort of arcane light, also he doesn't appear to be breathing.

I approach stealthily, trying my best not to wake anyone, but when the Gale-like figure gives me a small wave, I halt in my tracks. It certainly looks like Gale, it's wearing the robe I purchased for him, it's got his bracers equipped, and the chain-link headband he's worn since the Githyanki creche is centered perfectly on his forehead. 

Then it speaks, "Good evening!" it exclaims cheerfully, there's an odd distortion around it's voice, as if two or three people are speaking simultaneously. "I am here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep..."

"Shhhhh! Keep it down, please!" I glance around, but there's no movement from the other tents. 

"He wishes," it continues in more of a whisper, "to extend you an invitation for a private conversation in a more suitable locale."

"So, just to confirm," I whisper back, "you're not actually Gale? What are you then?"

"A mere projection of Gale." It's stopped whispering despite my shushing motions, "I am a reconstituted version of his appearance, voice and...personality." It gives me a saucy wink, "Would you care to join him?"

"Yes, of course yes," Every moment that passes I become more sure that Marlie is watching from somewhere. The sooner I get out of here the better, "Where is he?"

"Simply follow yonder path and soon you will find him," it gestures vaguely to the east side of camp. 

"Gods I hope so," I say to myself. It would be so very me to get lost in a situation like this. Thankfully, Gale's footprints are clear and easy to read as I make my way out of camp and towards a large clearing to the north. As the trees open up to a grassy knoll I can see a light ahead. My confusion increases as it becomes clear this light is not a fire or a candle. It is emanating from the sky itself. Soon I see Gale, seated in the clearing. He's looking up, arms moving in graceful precise arcs. 

As I step out from the trees, he lets his arms fall, though the light remains. I can see the anticipation on his face, the barely restrained smile, and I'm happy I came. I take a seat next to him in the grass, and turn towards the heavens to admire his handy work. 

"I love this time of night," he says softly.

My face goes slack with wonder as I take in the enormity of what he's crafted in the sky. A gorgeous shifting symphony of blues and purples alights the heavens, graced with a sprinkling of stars. It's the aurora borealis. 

I just stare, captivated by the patterns of light and color, “...the most beautiful of fantasies." I am drawn out of my reverie by the soft tone of his voice. He’s looking at me, not the sky. The starlight is reflected in his eyes. I'm aching for him to touch me.

"It's - it's -" apparently I've lost my executive brain function. "I'm sorry," I say laughing at myself, "I'm overwhelmed. I've always wanted to see the Northern Lights. You did that?"

"Indeed," he sounds proud, "the curse is still present of course. Just beyond this veneer, held at arms length. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight? Tonight is different."

"Why?" A cold feeling of dread drapes over me. I try to ignore it but unbidden thoughts rise all the same.

Are we back here again?

"This may be my last night alive," he continues, "I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder..." He smiles at me, his eyes narrowing with mischief, sparkling with desire, "...and with company to match."

"How can you say that?" I refuse to be caught up in the moment, not when he speaks of his own death so casually. 

He takes my hand. I want to be spiteful, to pull away. How dare he. After all we've been through? He can just look me in the eyes and give voice to these terrible truths? 

"None of us are guaranteed time, Sasha. Not with the perils we are facing. The tadpoles, the Absolute, this Shadow Curse. Any of us could succumb to these dangers. No use pretending otherwise." 

I say nothing, he continues. "I thought this place, being under this sky with you, might bring me a sense of peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do, the responsibility I have been charged with, seem a little smaller. But now..." his face falls, he looks down at our hands, "now I am not so sure."

"I am." My voice is steal, hard, determined. "I've never been so sure. I refuse to believe this is the end." My grip on him is as intense as my voice. "We will find another way. I promise."

"Thank you, but.."

"No!" my voice cracks, and my throat starts to hurt, I swallow hard. "This will not be your fate, Gale. Fuck fate. Fuck the gods, and fuck...fuck it all." I'm fighting to keep the anger from spilling out of my eyes. 

He smiles at my flailing ferocity, my pitiful defiance. "Darling, there is no point running from the inevitable. Better to meet it, to face it, on my own terms."

"Nothing is inevitable, do you hear me? Not when we face it together. You are not alone, Gale. You don't have to die." My vision blurs, and a tear falls onto my wrist, it burns a little. The sky and the world around me become a watercolor scene of purples and blues. The only clear thing is Gale. 

He takes my wet face in his hands, I grip his wrists, desperate for him, desperate for him to see what I clearly know. 

This cannot be the end for us. 

"One night with you," his warms lips gently brush over my forehead, "could sate me for a life time."

"I don't want just one night."

He kisses my cheek, my ear, I cling to him, I breathe deep and dab at one eye with my palm. It stings. 

He murmurs into my neck "Whatever my fate, please know that you're sending me to meet it with a full heart, free from fear." His voice is heavy with sorrow, with sincerity. It’s killing me. "I'm so very glad you came, to share this with me."

I touch his face, feeling the smoothness of his skin, the rough contrast of his beard. I slip my hand into his hair, the brown and silver strands ease though my fingers, shining in the starlight. I trace the firm line of his jaw, his pulse throbs beneath my thumb, quickens as he takes a breath. 

"This must all seem unreal, but I created it for you."

“For me..?”

"You must know that you're..." My fingertips feel the groove in his neck, just above where the orb scars begin to deepen, "you're very special to me." 

I chew my bottom lip. My stomach is in knots. I tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. His earing glints at me. 

He puts his large hand over mine, stopping my progression at the top of his chest. There's a slight sting as his fingers brush over two red scratches. For a moment I freeze, my thoughts flash. I turn my head as if to shy away from it. But I can't.

"Gale." I hear myself say. I feel as if I'm slowly drifting away from myself, the world getting smaller and smaller as I soar off into the heavens, into the sky that Gale made for me. "Something happened today."

"Happened?"

"I- I kissed Rolan."

"You - who?" 

"Doesn't matter," I say quickly, "Something strange happened when I was trying to use the Weave and-"

"You kissed someone...?"

"Yes." I hate myself. I'm ruining everything.

"Well." His body language changes, he lets go of me and moves slightly, out of my reach. "I suppose," he says, after a moment, "you're not exactly beholden to me but I thought..." He ducks his head to meet my eye, and the intensity I see there scares me. "You told me... you said you chose me."

"Yes, I did." 

"Then what-"

"I'm telling you about this because I meant it, I choose you. Even now, with you going on about how death is waiting for you, how this is your fate, your tragic destiny. I- I couldn't sit here under this perfect sky and not tell you, because I want you, Gale. I've always wanted you, from the moment I slapped your hand in that stupid portal, and for more than just one night."

His eyes are large and round and sad. I feel like time has stopped. I can see us sitting together on this grassy knoll, merely inches from each other. My face is tear-streaked and desperate, Gale's is heart wrenchingly vulnerable.

"I'm in love with you." I hear myself say the words and it's like something inside me breaks. 

The moment stretches. My heart is pounding against my ribs, threatening to burst free. I kind of wish it would. Then suddenly he gives a small laugh. My stomach clenches. I feel sick as I look down at my lap. I swore to myself so long ago that I would never tell him, that I would never burden him with the depth of my feelings. I thought I was protecting him. But I see now, at the precipice, that I was just trying to stop myself from breaking my own heart. I've failed. 

I wrap my arms around myself. If I could I would sink into the earth. 

"What a relief," he finally says. I glance at him, afraid of what I'll see, but his gaze is...open. It's still soft but different, he looks lighter. Like a great weight has fallen away from him. “I was so afraid I was just making as ass of myself." He gently tucks back a curl that has fallen in my face "I'm hurt, that you felt the need to test the depths of your feelings, but to hear those words from your lips...I cannot pretend to be anything other than elated."

I laugh too then, and lean over to kiss him. I taste the salt on his lips from my tears, feel the tingling burn of the acidity.

”You must know,” He says when we break apart, “I am not a man who shares. Call me greedy, stubborn or old fashioned, but I cannot change who I am, or how I love. If you are mine, then you are mine alone.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” I'm pretty sure I'm crying again.

He stands up and I feel a little bereft, "I hope that wasn't a parting kiss." I sound childish, sulky.

"Not if I have any say in the matter," he chortles, pulling me to my feet. His smile is broad, like he can't hold it back. He kisses my forehead again and I nuzzle into him, wrapping my arms around his chest. "I want it to be perfect," he continues, "to bond with you in the way that gods do...intertwining our spirits in visions of the weave." 

"Um," that sounds a little intimidating to me, I'm not even sure what it means. "I don't really need illusions. You're here, standing right in front of me." I stand on tip toe to trail kisses along his neck, "And you already taste divine."

He tangles his hands in my curls, holds my head against his chest, but his voice is hesitant, "Are you sure? I can conjure up any sight that you could dream of, and a few you could not. I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond reckoning..."

I sigh, "I don't think I trust the Weave."

He tilts my face up and touches my nose with his, "Then trust me. Let me do more than woo you. Let me wow you."

I chuckle into his mouth. "Alright. Wow me."

Gale's velvet voice paints a scene of his idyllic tower in Waterdeep; complete with a piano that plays on it's own and a sunset view of the infamous harbor.

It's been so long since I've seen it. I can almost smell the salty air and hear the wind whip the sails of the docked ships.

The day I'd enrolled in New Olamn, stepping off a boat fresh from Neverwinter to begin my training as a bard, I'd been so afraid but so full of hope. To think the tower I'd seen every day on the horizon had been Gale's. We'd been so close to each other. Perhaps I'd passed him in the street while shopping at the markets, or breezed through one of his classes on a tour of Blackstaff. We would've been entirely different people, such a strange thought.

I feel practically giddy as I take in the rows and rows of books lining the walls as he walks me through the interior. They're scattered on every surface. I settle into a comfortable alcove on his balcony and I pick the nearest one to flip through it. I feel my face go crimson as I take in the images, and look up to see Gale watching me, amused. "I see you've found the Art of the Night."

"Leave it you to seduce someone with a book," I turn it around to show him the page that I'm on, my eyebrows raised questioningly at the elaborate image of two people contorted in love making. "That rebellious streak of yours is admirable."

"Allow me to live dangerously while I still can," he smiles and settles next to me. I love when he teases me, I see a younger more optimistic version of him shining through in this moment. It's who he was before the orb, maybe even before Mystra, back when he might've been just Gale, and not Gale of Waterdeep. It tickles me to see it, to experience it.

I love him. 

"...the art of the body. The exploration and acceptance of the self and the other. I say we take a page from their book. What do you say?"

"Huh?" I snap back to the present, " Sorry...I was distracted by...by your face." I sound so dim witted, my cheeks are pink again. 

He puts his arm around me, pulls me into him, "Come here." As he kisses me I can hear his voice, like he's speaking to me through the tadpole connection, but somehow it's different, it's emanating from everywhere. "Why confine ourselves to the pleasures of mortal flesh? It is but one stitch in a vast tapestry."

I open my eyes to see everything is glowing. The tower around us is gone and it looks like we're in Gale's sky, surrounded by it. An endless cosmos that stretches infinitely. I hold my hand up to my face and I can see Gale through it. He's glowing too. Suddenly a memory rips through me, like a spike to the mind. A flash of bodies entwined, a faint whiff of rose water. Hearts pounding and breath quick with passion. I feel the pressure of something curled tightly against my leg. 

I blink and we're back in the clearing, back to the grassy knoll. Gale is standing next to me, holding my hand. "The old ways then. If that is what you wish, so be it." 

I swallow, moving hesitantly in the direction he gestures. Did he see? Does he know?

"Gale..?"

He makes a precise motion with his arm, "A small gesture towards you comfort."

I fall back, feeling a bed materialize beneath me. I'm already soaked. 

I pull him on down onto me, I need to feel him. I practically rip his shirt in my haste to unlace it, he chuckles pulling it over his head, but there is nothing funny about my desperation. He slots between my open thighs perfectly, our breaths mingle as we kiss and kiss again. He cups my breasts, slipping my leather top up to bear them. He looks at me, his eyes trace my body hungrily. "Beautiful." 

I smile at him and push his hair off his face. His hands rove down, tickling over my ribs to my waist. I tug on his earlobe with my teeth, reaching to shove his pants down. "Not yet, darling," he murmurs slipping his hands beneath the waist band of my trousers, "soon."

“Now," I whine as he pushes me back onto the bed, his large hand in the center of my chest, holding me down. His lips close around a nipple and heat shoots through my center,  "Gale, I can't wait anymore." I writhe under his ministrations, he's stroking me over my clothes. His fingers brushing against my clit over and over. 

"Interesting," he murmurs, leaving a hot wet trail with his tongue over my breast, "no panties?"

"No, never…” My voice shoots up an octave as he nibbles at my rib cage.

I push up against his hand to sit up, to look at him. 

"Naughty." The muscles in his arm tighten as he leans in, keeping me on my back. I wriggle with pleasure as he peppers my lower belly with kisses, his beard tickles me and my hips buck impatiently. He removes his hand to slide off my trousers and I use the opportunity to leap forward, I pull his face to mine for a deep kiss. 

"My love," he groans into my mouth, "my sweet love." His hand gently grazes the strip of hair that coats my womanhood. "Let me kiss you, darling." I let go of his face and watch as he takes my nipple into his mouth again. 

I wrap my fingers in his hair, "I can feel that..." I murmur. I don't know what I'm saying, I'm obviously beyond coherent thought. He moves to my other nipple and I moan as he slips a finger inside me. He swirls it slowly, feeling my walls. I toss my head back at the sensation, I'm gushing for him. Thank the gods this is not a real bed, I'm about to ruin it. 

When he puts his mouth on my clit I am trembling. He suckles softly, stroking me with his tongue as he inserts another finger. He hooks my knee over his shoulder and I grip the bed sheets as if I'm about to float away. When his tongue enters me I cry out, desperate for more. He licks the length of me, parting me, his fingers curling up and into me. The warmth is spreading from my core to my toes, to my finger tips…slipping in and out, while he worships me...

Sweet pressure is building behind my navel, I pant with the intensity of it, try to focus on the sensation...and then it snaps, like the taunt string of a bow, catching me off guard with the intensity. Back arched, I release against his mouth, blind with pleasure. He laps at me greedily, moaning into my cunt. I jerk up, away from him instinctively as I collapse back.

He kisses my thighs and I twitch feebly. I'm incoherent, numb with ecstasy as he moves back up and over me. "So lovely," he mutters into my ear. I feel him on my thigh as he lines up to enter me. 

I realize he's naked, "I want to see," I mumble lifting myself. I slide my hand between my thighs, covering myself with my own arousal before I reach for him. He groans as I wrap my fingers around his base, sliding the length of him.

"Shit, Gale." I look down, "Fuck, you're huge."  

He groans, "Stop that, I need to last."

"Why though?" I whisper increasing my speed, "I want to see you shatter, like the spell. Come apart all over me."

Our mouths interlock and he leans his hip into me, pushing gently at my entrance, "I'd rather come inside of you.” 

I guide him into me, he gasps as I bear my hips down and clench around him. "Then fuck me, wizard." 

And he is fucking me. He thrusts deep, angling and working his cock to hit the most tender parts of me. I lift myself up on my elbows, arching my back. He wraps his hands behind my waist and I feel myself rising, flying. He's looking down, watching himself enter me. "Oh, oh Gale! I'm coming!" 

I hate the way I sound, so desperate and needy, but I barely have time to register the words I'm saying before... He captures my mouth in a deep kiss as everything falls away and I'm at the mercy of my own pleasure. Cresting and crashing, I ride each wave as it takes me. I wrap my legs around him, hips grinding in time with his. He is pulsing and filling me.

Finally, Gale falls slack against me, sweaty and spent. He twitches inside me and I mewl in response. 

The weight of him feels so good, so right.

"I love you," his breath is soft and warm. He lifts his head from my chest, those brown precious eyes pierce me. "I'm so in love with you, Sasha."

[lokisprettygirl]

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 12 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 13

Summary : An indecent phone conversation with Loki makes you late for your meeting with Strange.

Warning: 18+, slight dirty talk, mention of sex, mention of psychological torture, angst, insecurities, self deprecating behaviour,

"God I'd never get enough of you" she whispered as her lips lingered over his mouth for a moment before she kissed him passionately.

"I'd never want that either sweetheart " he looked down at her, he can try all the positions in the world with her but this right here was his favorite of all, her body underneath him and her eyes staring back at him with such love and adoration.

"Loo" she mumbled softly so he snapped out of his thoughts and leaned down to kiss her before he hummed "I'm scared"

"I know princess, so am I, but I have to do this, I can not lose you, I can't take such a risk" she nodded but he could still see the saddened look on her face.

"What if something happens and we aren't at the right place at the right time? What would happen to us then?" Her eyes welled up so he cupped her cheeks and kissed her before he smiled.

"My love, no matter where in the world we are, eventually we will cross each other's path in one way or another and we will do so when our timing is aligned perfectly, a moment so absolute where we would be eager and desperate to fall so deeply in love with each other..just like this, you were made for me darling and I'll find you anywhere, anytime..i promise "

He woke up with head pounding and heart beating so fast, after the training session with the Captain he had fallen asleep, more than the training itself it was the conversation they both had that had tired him out. He couldn't stop asking him about some man named Bucky and how he knew that this Bucky was alive because apparently that's what his doppleganger has said to him to distract him in the fight after the battle of New York.

He was still under the false assumption that Loki was the one to morph into him even though he had clarified it a million times, he probably shouldn't have done the same to make fun of him when he was handcuffed after they had defeated him, that's probably why Rogers was adamant on this theory.

And Now this strange dream he just had was worrying him. He have had plenty of dreams about you in the past but this one felt different, he knew he saw you but you seemed a little different, just a bit aged than you do now, not much though. It didn't even feel like he was in this dream, he felt as if he was watching two people he didn't even know. However he did recognise the shared love between them, their emotions mirrored how you two felt about each other.

Perhaps he was overthinking, he knew Thanos was looking to assemble all the infinity stones and since the day when he had escaped with the tesseract things have been different. He wondered what would have happened if Stark hadn't dropped the briefcase holding the tesseract that fine day, Thor was taking him back to Asgard, the course of his life would have been entirely different if it wasn't for him picking up the cube. He felt overwhelmed and only one person could have made him feel better so he sat up and picked up the telephone to ring you.

He dialed your number and it didn't even ring twice before you picked it up

"Hey handsome" you giggled and the sound of your voice made him smile,

"Princess, i want to apologise if I am being a nuisance while you are on the job"

"No no ..not at all, I got off early, have to see the guy remember?" Oh yes. The healer.

"How could I ever forget?"

"I'm almost ready lo, will leave in a few"

"Oh apologies darling, I wouldn't want you to be late for the meeting "

You sat down on the bed as he said that.

"Maybe I want to be late, I'm not going to see you for hours, let me just talk to you baby" he smiled at the comment.

"Okay we can talk my sweetheart, what are you wearing?" you gasped as he said that and it took him a second to realize how his words were being interpreted.

"God you're a naughty boy..it's barely two in the afternoon" you mumbled and he was grateful you weren't there to see the effect you had on him. He was a god, where was the will power and self resistance? How come you were able to break him so easily?

"No no I just mean in general, I just wanted to have an image of you in my head, that is all" he mumbled nervously

"Mmmm I'll tell you if you tell me what you are wearing"

"Well I …uhhh .." he just had a satin sheet to cover his modesty, when alone he enjoyed sleeping naked. Clothes always made him feel hot and not in a good way.

"Oh my god you're naked aren't you? " he squeezed his eyes as you said that "Oh that's a lovely image.. I can picture it you know, your tall athletic naked body on the bed, aren't you the perfect sight for my sore eyes?" Why were you doing this to him?

"Now who's the naughty one here?"

"You look so pretty lo, kinda want to be there and see you like that" his eyes filled with lust as you said that. Now he was wishing you were there to watch him while he gets himself off for you.

"Shhhhh before this escalates further"

"You don't want this to escalate, pretty baby?" He took a deep breath as you said that.

"Darling please"

"Please continue or please stop?"

"Norns..both ..I want both"

"Mmmhm I wonder what you'd do to me if you were here" your voice turned sultry as you spoke.

"You really wish for me to tell you?" He asked you so you smiled.

"Mmmhmmm please loki.. please tell me" he chuckled at the response. If you wanted to play he'd play with you.

"You sound so sweet right now princess, are you always like this when you're being dominated?" Your face flushed to the max as he said that, you could feel your ears getting hot at the sudden change in his tone. He really was a god.

"Ummm dominated?" You gulped

"Uhuhh have you never been controlled? Never been told what to do in bed? Never been subjugated or ruled over by a man much more powerful than you?" He asked you, you could sense the mischief reeking but at the same time his voice remained deep and husky, it melted in your ears and it made you feel as if he was hypnotizing you. Maybe he was hypnotizing you.

"Lokiiiii stahhhhp" you whispered buy your voice came out all whiny.

"You want me to stop now, little one?"

"Noooo..not really" you said meekly

"Figured, how do you feel knowing that i often touch myself thinking about you"

Your breath hitched and you needed a moment to answer,

"Uhhh I feel desired and sexy" you mumbled nervously.

"Such a good girl, that's how you deserve to feel all the time" you squeezed your thighs together at the soft praise, his voice had gotten so firm like a school teacher but in the sexiest way possible.

"I am a good girl..but maybe I'll disappoint you in bed" there you go ruining the sexy moments with your insecurities. His brows furrowed as he noticed the sadness in your voice so he propped himself on his elbow to flip the phone to the other ear.

"Why would you say that my sweet princess?" the soft voice made your eyes tear up. Why were you like this?

"Because my ex told me"

"He did?" His jaw clenched as he heard that,

"But it was my fault, i wasn't as invested in having sex with him as he was"

"Because of the heat?"

"Mmmhmmmm"

"What did he say to you?"

"Ummm let's not discuss that lo"

"What did he say?"

"Just that..I was awful in bed and that I needed to show more enthusiasm and partake in the act of pleasing him rather than him doing everything..you know" He got absolutely quiet so you spoke again, maybe you should have kept your mouth shut. Your mouth was one of the reasons why you had trouble keeping the guys interested in you for long.

"I'm sorry..I don't know why I told you that.. please ignore it and can we go back to being naughty?" you chuckled nervously even though your eyes were welled up now because of the embarassement.

"I apologise for going quite on you. I'd love to show you how wrong that scoundrel was about you. It takes two to battle my darling, perhaps he wasn't capable of pleasing a woman as sensual as you are"

You bit on your lips at his words, the slight anger in his voice made you smile though, he was protective about you and it gave you all the butterflies in the stomach, you have never had a feeling like this before "Well I do hope he is wrong though"

"He is, you want to know how I know that?" He smiled

"How?"

"Last night, the way your body responded to me, just thinking about it makes my cock ache for your warmth" he mumbled

"Goshhhhh lokiiiii" you sucked a deep breath in, voice barely a whisper

"And that voice of yours, norns my little love.. I'd do anything for you as long as you're moaning so sweetly for me, as long as you're making those pretty little noises in my ears" he whispered softly and your fingers settled between your legs involuntarily.

"Mmmmmhmmm I'll do anything for you lo.. whatever you ask"

"I know you will.. I know you'd do anything for me"

You sat up as your breathing got heavier. The meeting. Oh god.

And you also had to change your underwear now.

"God I have to gooo" he chuckled as you said that.

"That's a shame"

"I know I'm sorry..that was thrilling..oh wow i need a moment" he chuckled again. He rubbed his cock slowly in order to suppress those sensations you had evoked in him but it was only making it worse so he stopped touching himself.

"Princess?" He wanted to share the dream he had about you two but now wasn't the time, you were already late.

"Mmm?"

"Nothing..I uhh ..you'll miss me?"

"Lokiii I am missing you right now and we are talking, you don't even know how much I'm going to miss you"

His heart fluttered as you said that.

"So will I, and perhaps i will see you tonight"

"Please do and maybe we can umm play with each other again just like last night"

You smiled widely before you hung up, leaving him to stay hard the rest of the day, he sighed as he put the phone down on his chest and then his mouth curved into a smile thinking about the last few minutes.

You really wanted to tell him that you loved him but was it too soon to do that? You had no idea.

“I’m sorry I’m late” you apologized as you spotted him at the restaurant, your mom had mailed a picture of him to you so it was easier to recognise.

“It’s fine I guess, I’m used to such tardiness” he was smiling but you could tell he was annoyed, you didn’t miss the sarcasm in his tone.

“Ummm okay actually I don’t think I got your name yet, my mom told me everything except your name, I’m y/n by the way” you raised your hand forward so he looked at it for a few seconds before he shook it.

“Hello y/n, my name is Doctor Stephen Strange”

You didn't know how to talk to him, when you tried to order something to eat he told you that he had already done it for you so now you had nothing else to do or say.

You sipped on the drink in order to avoid the awkward silence between you two. So this was going soooooo well right? You missed loki, even the pin drop silence was never awkward with him, back when you two were purely friends and he was hiding in your apartment, the conversation between you two never felt forced. Sure you blabbed unnecessarily at times but he always smiled and he never seemed annoyed. You both would often sit on the sofa with your backs resting on the individual armrest and your legs almost touching each other, you'd watch something on your phone and he would read his books, it felt cozy and comfortable.

How the hell did you even stumble upon someone like him?

"Why aren't you eating?" Stephen asked you so you smiled but before you could answer he interrupted you

"Let me guess, you're one of those women aren't you, those who pretend to not eat on dates even though the reality couldn't be farther from it..no offense " Well you took it.

"First of all I love eating but beef steak isn't the idea of a hearty lunch for me" he snickered as he cut himself a piece, the precision he used with his knife was enough to tell you that he indeed was a surgeon.

"You were extremely late, I had to order for us"

"Yeah thank you for not waiting for me to get my opinion, I bet you're one of those men who think they are superior and can decide everything for their women"

"Last time I checked you weren't mine" he winked at you so you rolled your eyes.

"Look I'm only here because my mother forced me to–"

"That's also why I –"

"Stop interrupting me" you cut him off and that felt really nice.

You pointed a finger at him so he went quiet but now you forgot what you were even saying and he used the opportunity to speak again.

"That is exactly why I'm here as well so let's just eat and never see each other again alright?" He said rudely so you nodded.

"Yeah I'd like that"

"Good"

"So New York City, what's it like?" You questioned him and he glared at you,

"I can't just stay quiet, and you're eating awfully slow" he sighed at the statement.

"It's definitely been much worse since the attack"

"The Chitauris?" You asked sheepishly.

"Yeah, isn't it funny how they glorified the man responsible for the whole mess and turned him into an Avenger, best way to redeem a criminal right?" Your jaw clenched as he said that, he didn't even know Loki.

"Do you not watch news, Loki wasn't an accomplice, he was a victim"

"Fantastic story isn't it, heart wrenching, it's so easy to befool the humankind"

You wanted to say so many things but you couldn't even defend him in public, people would think you were just a crazy fan or worse one of those simps who just wanted to fuck the Asgardian god. You did want to do that though.

"So where were you when it happened?" You asked him to change the conversation, hoping he'd keep his resentment to himself.

"In the nearest building performing an extensive and very critical surgery, have to say it was not at all hard to focus with the sounds of grenades going off every few seconds"

"Ohhh..well that's admirable that you didn't feel scared or ran away" he snickered as you said that.

"Yeah, an innocent woman would have died on my table if I had lost my concentration that day and the man responsible for it got away with no remorse or repercussions, he's being celebrated instead"

Okay that was enough.

"Well you don't know that, you don't know what he's going through, how much guilt he carries or how bad it is for him to sleep at night when he's all alone..you don't know him or why he did what he did..what would you do if a powerful entity had influenced you and tortured you for a year like that?" He looked at you, slightly taken aback by the sudden outburst before he snickered condescendingly.

"I see you're one of those"

"Whattt?" You looked at him confused.

"The ones who wants to fuck him"

"You are so judgemental, I bet you judge other people's brains when they're splayed open in front of you"

"Uh-huh by the way Didn't he want to commit mass genocide even before the whole ordeal?"

"Yeah so did Thor, but he's a hero isn't he?" Why you were you fighting with him? You should just leave right?

"Well to be fair I don't think too highly of him either" Leave now.

"You know what this was fun..byye bye..see you never "

You stood up and walked out, he didn't stop you either, you had to cross the road to get to the other side but you heard him calling your name so you stopped like a moron in the middle of the street to turn and look at him, that's when a man with a motorbike came out of nowhere and hit you. You didn't remember much after that, you remembered the sharp pain in your right leg and you remembered seeing Stephen's stupid face before you lost consciousness.

A few hours later you woke up and your head was pounding, when you looked to the side, Stephen was there reading a newspaper,

"Did you perform a brain surgery on me?" You asked him so he raised his eyebrows.

"Do you have one in there because the way you stood there in the middle of the road was foolish"

"That guy came out of nowhere "

"Very well, now that you're awake, I'm gonna leave" he said as he got up so you sat up hurriedly.

"Wait wait how would I get home, oh my god is my leg broken?" You looked at the bandage on your right ankle and your eyes widened. No it can't be, it can't be. Thirty years, you had gone thirty years without a broken bone and you were planning to keep it that way all your life, it can't be broken right?

"I broke my bone, didn't i? " Your eyes welled up so he sighed.

"It's just a sprain, you'll be fine in a week or two"

"A week? I can't not work for a week, they'll fire me" you groaned

"Well you should have thought about that before you–"

"You know what..just shut up okay?"

He rolled his eyes and luckily he agreed to drive you home. He had to assist you to walk though and you didn't really like the idea of being so close to a man you barely knew.

"So whose car is it?" You asked him as he sat you down on the passenger seat.

"Rental"

"Figured"

"Why did you ask if you figured?"

You crossed your arms and didn't respond to him, to avoid the awkwardness you turned the radio on.

Hey I just met you and this is crazy but here's my number so call me maybe

You immediately changed the channel to not give him any sort of wrong signal. He seemed the type to take wrong signals.

My universe will never be the same. I'm glad you came, I'm glad you came.

You bobbed your head back and forth to the beat of the song and he shook his head in disbelief.

It was around 11 at night, how long were you out for? You were surprised he stayed by your side and didn't just flee, maybe it was the doctor in him. Well atleast he wasn't the worst man you have ever met in your life.

God you wanted to talk to Loki, you grabbed your purse and took out your phone but it was discharged completely.

Luckily your building had the lift but he still accompanied you to your apartment, as soon as you opened the door and even though you couldn't see him, you just knew he was there. Loki was there, you could smell his cologne

"Umm would you like a cup of coffee or something?" Please say no..

He looked around the apartment and his face contorted in disgust. Was this your mother disguised as a man? Well you had no idea you would be bringing him back here, this wasn't a date and you were too distracted before the meeting to even think of cleaning the space.

"No thanks. Here's your medicine" he passed you the small prescription bag so you took it from him.

"Well ummm thank you and I'm sorry i won't be able to show you around" you said to him so he rolled his eyes.

"Good, I'm relieved"

An awkward silence and even the worst goodbye handshake later he finally left, you were still on the couch and before you could say anything Loki appeared and locked the main door from inside. His face seemed blotchy, eyes red, cheeks dampened, you could tell he had cried.

He walked towards you and got down on his knees in front of you, then he lifted the right leg up to inspect the injury.

"Lokii"

"Who did this to you ?" He asked you

"Some guy on a bike..It was just an accident"

"That man isn't responsible for this state of yours is he?" He asked you so you shook your head, you cupped his face to make him look at you and his eyes were filled with fear.

"I'm sorry, i would have called but my phone died and ummm I was unconscious "

"Norns y/n" he flinched away from you and stood up, only to pace back and forth in front of you. You were worried that he was angry but then the look on his face was enough to tell you that he was scared, he wasn't able to get in touch with you at all and that must have been terrifying.

"Looo baby" you called out to him and put your hand forward so he took it and sat down next to you on the sofa.

"I'm okay, it's just a sprain"

Well unfortunately you couldn't climb on his lap so you somehow scooted closer to him and hugged him.

"I am sorry darling, I was losing my mind here" his arms wrapped around your tightly and he placed his head down on your shoulder.

"I know I know it's okay i would have been the same"

After a minute or so, he got on his feet again and picked you up in his arms only to lay you down on the sofa again.

"How bad does it hurt?" He asked you and your face scrunched in response, it wasn't bothering you when you came back to consciousness but now you were starting to feel it.

"I think the meds will help"

He sat down on the corner of the sofa and placed your legs on his leg carefully before he grabbed the right one and trailed his fingers all over your ankle, the longer he did it the better you felt.

"Did you just fix me?"

"I wish I could darling but I'm not that kind of God, i can barely lessen the pain and discomfort that comes with it" you smiled as he said that. He was talking as if this wasn't an otherworldly magic in itself.

"How do you do that? I mean how is it possible... like in a scientific way?" He chuckled as you questioned him "I'm sorry I'm on drugs i think"

"No you can ask questions..it's just you're adorable when you do" you giggled at the compliment, he carefully hovered on top of you, avoiding your leg to not hurt you any further and kissed you softly.

"It's just a form of energy being used differently darling"

"Energy?" You looked at him confused so he tucked your hair behind your ears before he kissed your forehead. Everytime he kissed your forehead you couldn't help but giggle.

"Mhhmm In simpler words whenever you see me doing this–" he said as he conjured a flower out of nowhere and gave it to you "I am merely harnessing the cumulative energies from multiple dimensions in order to fetch me whatever I need from my vault" you nodded even though it made no sense to you.

"You're so cute but I don't understand anything" he chuckled and kissed you before he got off the sofa, picked you up again and then laid you down on the bed so you could rest.

"Fancy a cup of tea madame?" You nodded as he asked you.

He made tea for you, he fed you dinner that had to be a takeout because he wasn't even going to attempt to cook and burn down your apartment. You smelled like the hospital and wanted to shower so he helped you get to the bathroom, luckily you had put on a dress for the meeting instead of a jeans so it was easier to take off, you noticed how he had kept his eyes closed like the gentleman that he was when you asked him to take you back to the room while you just had a towel wrapped around your body.

By the time you were in bed again you felt extremely exhausted, the meds were making you feel drowsy already.

"I'm going to abhor leaving you all alone here in the morning" he cooed in your ears so you pecked on his lips.

"Mmmm don't leave me then..stayyy"

"I wish I could princess, I truly wish I could be here for you all the time"

"I know baby it's okay i understand, besides I'll be fine, it's just a sprain"

"How long will it take to heal completely?"

"Two weeks at the most, but I heal fast so one week" you laughed and it warmed his heart.

"Ummm okay I have a proposition for you"

"What?" You smiled because you thought he was going to say something silly to make you laugh again but what he said made you sit up and contemplate, how was this even going to work? Especially with Melissa and those Avengers around.

"Come stay with me at the tower while you're healing"

💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

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[sukioyakio]

All it takes is an bit of practice

This is a of Miguel if he didn’t switch spot for the other Miguel and the other Miguel lived with his daughter( and wanted to be more polite and I wanted to be more like ‘happy Miguel’)

I feel llike Miguel,the one we know,who is the leader of the spider society,would still stalk the other Miguel the one that die and the one miguel switch with and his life but wouldn’t go all out to switch spot for him since he still alive. But like let imagine Miguel is asking Layla if he come out homely or look sweet and give kind vibes? Since he doesn’t know if he come out like that,since he always inside he’s man cave.In which I feel like Layla would just have this face

“🤨🙂” Layla-“Uum Miguel. . .what. .are you evening doing?”she says with an questioning look,as she pop up next to miguel,with her eyebrows raised.

Which Miguel grunt and mutter as he look at the other Miguel smiling sweetly in an picture and let out an annoyed sigh.

Miguel-“I. . I’m. .trying to smile” he says,as he pinched his nose and looked more annoyed at how stupid he sounded.”oh joder esta mierda” he muttered,as layla pause then realized.

Layla-“OHHHhh!Bossman! I didn’t what you’re doing with your face,but now I know!!miguel”she says with an awkward smile,as she look at him and then away.

Miguel-“Is my smile that bad. . . .”he say with a grunt as he look at the picture again,and sighs,as he hears nothing from layla for a good 5 seconds,

Layla-“ it is Miguel *she sighs as Layla pat his back well try too*… look I know I’m not program to lie But if I being serious it a bad smile. . . . . but I can help with that!”she say with an award chuckle but to be soon an playful smile,as she give him an thumbs up.

Miguel-“Gracias layla"he says genuinely as he look at the picture with the other him with his daughter, and take an deep breath and look at layla with an determined look.

Layla-“no problem!! I just look up ten different articles on HOW TO smile Better” she says with an cheeky smile and her sassy voice perk in,as she pull up her mini holograms.

Miguel-“ ten? why not one article?”

Layla-“because I know it going to take longer than one article”she says in an “well duh 🙄” voice to Miguel,as she has an smug smile.

Which Miguel grunted at and sigh as he turned to point at the picture with the other Miguel with Gabriella smiling and then layla teleported well zap into view of the hologram and then after a few minutes of layla staring back at Miguel and the other Miguel she smiled at him

Layla-“OK soooo after examining the smiling face of the other you I think we can start!”

Miguel-“finally Iayla”

Layla-“ ok big man I want you to try smile again but better then last time ok 👍”

Miguel-“ok..? miguel smile but the smile look like he was one of the like an insane mother fucker and Miguel started to get worried at Layla reaction”w-what wrong!?”

Layla-“… boss man I think this is going to take us all day honestly☠️…”

grunted and sighed harder trying to be more polite but failed obviously and pinch his nose Miguel-WHY!??!!! … was my Smile that bad what did it look like”

she sigh and she look the other way,as she tried to not to laugh at the picture of Miguel trying to smile Layla-”Oh lord Miguel pff-fft~ I’m so sorry”

Miguel-“I hate you…” Layla-“I know you meant ‘I love you,anyway LET US BEGIN the session”

after a lot of fails attempts and a lot of awkward smile and some angry faces and smile and some ugly faces

Miguel-“ a la mierda esta MIREDA! I can’t do this is shit NO MORE LAYLA! We been doing this FOR 12 HOURS NOW!!… god I just wanted to smile like the other me ….” Miguel just makes an loud disappointed sigh.

Layla-“ Miguel I’m sorry but I’m all the articles, videos,and pictures, said to be happy and be a kind or funny person.. are you happy? Miguel”she says in an question tone of voice and her face looks an bit concerned for him but still having her sassy eyes.

Miguel-“I AM HAPPY LAYLA! DO I LOOK HAPPY!” He says very sarcastically and loudly.

Miguel look at Layla with the forced smile ever his eyes are pull all the way out it look like it about to fall out and his smile is just a huge awkward smile

Layla-“ EHHH-…. Nope you don’t look or sound like it”

Miguel-“FUCK! I’m done”

after a few minutes of sighing at himself for thinking about this would be a good idea to be more polite or to be like his more like his other version of himself … ‘being happy with his daughter’ keyword ‘with his daughter’

Layla-“fine but Miguel don’t you want to see the pictures that we took from tour trying smile session?”

Miguel-“fine” he says with an scoff and sigh.

Layla showing all the pictures of the smiling session the awkward ones,the angers,the wtf smile face,the huh smile.

And then Miguel smile that All those stupid pictures of him trying to smile and Layla laughing and smile in some of he picture,as layla looked at him and saw him smiling like actually smiling.

Layla-“OMG YOU SMILE MIGUEL WE FINALLY DID IT!”

Miguel-“shut up ok” … as he chuckles at his stupid face,-“I can’t believe that how I look like”as he rolls his eyes still with an slight grin on his face.

Layla-“yea I know right”she says with an sassy tone of voice,and chuckles.

Miguel-“ shut up…Layla … thank you”

Layla-“NO problem! Miguel!” She says as she file her ai nails,with an playful smile on her face.

layla-“it only take an bit of practice”

Sorry if there any mistakes for the Spanish part,I use google translate,so if there anything tell me,also I hope you enjoy this,I just wanted to make something with Miguel and layla,BUT I hope you guys have an great day.

quote of the day :

“I.. always . . Come..BACK!!”

@tarjapearce @honey-on-your-tongue @cherryredstars @miguelsslvt

[crow-in-gotham]

BLOG POST NO. 12 - WTF IS A BATMAN

If there is one thing that I have learned about the people of this city, it is the fact that literally everyone here loves to gossip. Like seriously, you see it everywhere, from people of all ages, young or old. I’m not complaining about it by any means (I’m Filipino, being a marites is kinda in my blood) but it’s just a little bit jarring to be on the bus, just peacefully minding my own business, then suddenly overhear someone gossiping in the seats behind me.

Which is exactly what happened to me today on my ride to school.

The apparent topic of the day? The identity of the ever mysterious Batman.

I know, I know, the topic has been talked about so much that if you compiled all the conspiracy theories regarding this and printed it out, the amount of paper you’d fill up might just be enough to reach the halfway point between the Earth and the Moon.

But regardless of how overdone this topic is, it’s still a pretty interesting thing to talk about. After all, absolutely no one knows who Batman is, or if he’s even a man in the first place. For all we know, the “man” in his name might be a red herring and he’s actually some eldritch alien sent from beyond the Milky Way to lull the world into a false sense of security so he can open a portal into the Dark Dimension and take over the entire world as an evil overlord.

Too much? Yeah, I think so too— but hey, what else am I supposed to do during my Differential Equations class, actually listen to the lecture? Pssh, nahhh— my attention span is way too short to sit through an entire 3 hours of just constantly being bombarded by numbers (I am so fucked).

Anyway, back to the topic at hand— Batman’s identity.

I’ve seen so many theories floating around about this, but only two in particular are that memorable for me personally. Well, three if you count the last one (we’ll get to that).

The first theory was that it might be this dude named Harvey Dent (had to look him up— and man, all I can say is that I’m sorry), but uh certain events have completely debunked that. If you live in Gotham then you know exactly what I’m talking about, and if you don’t then uh go do a quick internet search, I’m too lazy to spoon feed you all the information you need (you gotta learn how to do your own research somehow).

Then there’s the whole “Batman is Bruce Wayne” thing which is like, okay, I know where they’re going with this but at the same time I’m kinda ehh on it, you know? For one, Bruce Wayne looks too much like a personified teddy bear (I have said this once and I’ve said it again) to be the civilian identity of the literal definition of darkness and “it’s not a phase” but bat furry coded. I just don’t think the dude that flirts with women and men (istg the amount of times the tabloids just conveniently skip past this— I know for a fact I’m not the only one who’s seen that photo of this dude grab the waist of that male reporter from the Daily Planet— I see them) every chance he gets is the same guy who puts on a bat costume (am I allowed to make another furry joke?) to beat up bad guys in the middle of the night.

So what I’m trying to get at here is that I see the point being made, and I acknowledge it, but I just feel like we need more concrete evidence, you know?

I hope to fuck that I did not just summon an entire mob to come after me for that last bit.

Anyhow, onto my final theory, which is the fact that Batman might just be a cryptid born from the shadows of Gotham herself. This connects to the whole “Gotham is alive” conspiracy that started circulating around a few years ago. I don’t know how popularized it is, but it ended up reaching me when I was browsing through some forums a couple weeks back and honestly, even if it’s not true, it makes for an interesting thought. Because hey, what if cities are alive? That’d be interesting (and is also mildly terrifying).

The basic idea of this theory is the fact that Batman, thanks to being a cryptid and all that, isn’t actually human and therefore doesn’t have a human identity. He’s just Batman. As for why Gotham made him in the form of a human, not many people really answer this question (or more like no one really bothers to ask), but here’s my thoughts: I think Gotham made Batman into a humanoid because we as humans are often more inclined to be comfortable with something if it’s in the form of something familiar to us (hence, human). Like, imagine if Batman wasn’t human and was something like a massive blur of shadow and tendrils— wouldn’t that freak you the fuck out? Regardless of whether or not it saved you, you’ll still feel fucking terrified of it. But if it’s someone that just looks like a dude in a costume, then doesn’t that make you a little less scared? (I say “a little less” because let’s be real, human or not, Batman excels in being terrifying)

Well, that’s all under the assumption that the whole “Batman is a Cryptid” and “Gotham is Alive” are true.

Or that Batman even exists.

I’m pretty sure he does but there’s a lot of people that are saying otherwise, so I feel like I should at least acknowledge the fact that some people think he’s not real? Like, I even have classmates who say that Batman is just a tale told to kids so they don’t misbehave and stay out for too long— which, okay, that’s fair. I’ve heard my fair share of scary stories and beings throughout my childhood as well to be honest— also from adults who thought it’d be a great way to keep me obedient (mostly my titos and titas, my ma and pa never really liked scaring me or my brother)

Buut, I’m going to have to disagree with those points because I’ve heard Red Hood talk to his little earpiece thing (yes, Red Hood, I know you have one, because literally every vigilante/hero in a team should— no, I do not care if you say you’re a crime lord, you saved me from a mugger, get over it). And you know who he called out to one time? Batman.

And okay, to be fair, Red Hood could’ve just said the name to keep convincing people that Batman is real when he’s not, but honestly I don’t think Mr. Bleeding Bat Symbol over here would be that dedicated in making Gotham believe in something that isn’t real.

But I digress.

Do I actually care about Batman's real identity? Absolutely not. As long as the dude doesn’t bother me then I have nothing against his questionable life choices (I mean come on, what kind of life choices lead you to dressing up like a crime fighting bat?).

And also he keeps Gotham marginally safer, I guess, so that’s a win in my book.

As for the whole “What’s Batman’s relationship with Bruce Wayne?”— I've also given it some thought.

And honestly a part of me thinks they might be exes… or divorced.

But that’s a ramble for another time— I need to study for my next class.

[elettralightwood]

Do you know, I’ve realised I’ve never actually told you what I thought the first time we met? You see, for me, memories are difficult. Very often, they hurt. A curious thing about grief is the way it takes your entire life, all those foundational years that made you who you are, and makes them so painful to look back upon because of the absence there, that suddenly they’re inaccessible. You must invent an entirely new system. I started to think of myself and my life and my whole lifetime worth of memories as all the dark, dusty rooms of Buckingham Palace. I took the night Bea left rehab and I begged her to take it seriously, and I put it in a room with pink peonies on the wallpaper and a golden harp in the center of the floor. I took my first time, with one of my brother’s mates from uni when I was seventeen, and I found the smallest, most cramped little broom cupboard I could muster, and I shoved it in. I took my father’s last night, the way his face went slack, the smell of his hands, the fever, the waiting and waiting and terrible waiting and the even worse not-waiting anymore, and I found the biggest room, a ballroom, wide open and dark, windows drawn and covered. Locked the doors. But the first time I saw you. Rio. I took that down to the gardens. I pressed it into the leaves of a silver maple and recited it to the Waterloo Vase. It didn’t fit in any rooms. You were talking with Nora and June, happy and animated and fully alive, a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access, and so beautiful. Your hair was longer then. You weren’t even a president’s son yet, but you weren’t afraid. You had a yellow ipê-amarelo in your pocket. I thought, this is the most incredible thing I have ever seen, and I had better keep it a safe distance away from me. I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire. And then I was a careless fool, and I fell in love with you anyway. When you rang me at truly shocking hours of the night, I loved you. When you kissed me in disgusting public toilets and pouted in hotel bars and made me happy in ways in which it had never even occurred to me that a mangled-up, locked-up person like me could be happy, I loved you. And then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it? Sometimes, even now, I still can’t.

You shut the fuck up.

I can’t decide if your emails make me miss you more or less. Sometimes I feel like a funny-looking rock in the middle of the most beautiful clear ocean when I read the kinds of things you write to me. You love so much bigger than yourself, bigger than everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to even witness it—to be the one who gets to have it, and so much of it, is beyond luck and feels like fate. I can’t match you for prose, but what I can do is write you a list. AN INCOMPLETE LIST: THINGS I LOVE ABOUT HRH PRINCE HENRY OF WALES. 1. The sound of your laugh when I piss you off. 2. The way you smell underneath your fancy cologne, like clean linens but somehow also fresh grass (what kind of magic is this?). 3. That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough. 4. How your hands look when you play piano. 5. All the things I understand about myself now because of you. 6. How you think Return of the Jedi is the best Star Wars (wrong) because deep down you’re a gigantic, sappy, embarrassing romantic who just wants the happily ever after. 7. Your ability to recite Keats. 8. Your ability to recite Bernadette’s “Don’t let it drag you down” monologue from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. 9. How hard you try. 10. How hard you’ve always tried. 11. How determined you are to keep trying. 12. That when your shoulders cover mine, nothing else in the entire stupid world matters. 13. The goddamn issue of Le Monde you brought back to London with you and kept and have on your nightstand (yes, I saw it). 14. The way you look when you first wake up. 15. Your shoulder-to-waist ratio. 16. Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart. 17. Your equally huge dick. 18. The face you just made when you read that last one. 19. The way you look when you first wake up (I know I already said this, but I really, really love it). 20. The fact that you loved me all along. I keep thinking about that last one ever since you told me, and what an idiot I was. It’s so hard for me to get out of my own head sometimes, but now I’m coming back to what I said to you the night in my room when it all started, and how I brushed you off when you offered to let me go after the DNC, how I used to try to act like it was nothing sometimes. I didn’t even know what you were offering to do to yourself. God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry. Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable.

And you also shut the fuck up

They make me want to curl into a little ball and cry for the rest of my life

[gasolinerainbowreads]

I am trying to get better about organizing all the fic I read! (My drafts still sit at a hefty number lol.)

↓ ICON LEGEND ↓

🌈 = title 🪆 = series, multiple parts, etc. 🔋 = make sure your vibrator is charged before reading 😈 = Horny Demon Hours™ approved 🥹 = hurts so good/ouch, my feelings 🧠 = did somethin to my brain/altered my brain chemistry

Here's what I read in August along with a comment and/or a favorite excerpt:

@cavillscurls

🌈Pretty Prey 🔋😈-- Joel Miller x afab!reader "Tears spring to your waterline as he bruises into your cervix, the grunts and murmurs of that’s it, take it baby, can see the outline of my cock against your tummy all indication of his enjoyment."

@ezrasbirdie

🌈Catalyst 🪆🔋😈-- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales “Tastes damn good, doesn’t it?” Joel says, and Frankie lets out a quiet, desperate whine. “Good boy.” 🌈Some Part of Me Came Alive 🪆🔋😈🧠 -- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales Joel runs his fingers through Frankie’s hair when he pulls of off of him, cupping his cheeks and brushing his thumbs over his jaw. It's like that first kiss all over again--there's such profound relief Joel has to fight back tears. It doesn't matter that he's new to this--it's all so right because it's Frankie. 🌈Breakfast 🪆🥹 -- no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader x frankie morales plzzzzz this is so fucking perfect and sweet and good and i wanna devour it

@netherfeildren

🌈Forfeiting My Mystique 🥹🧠 -- Ezra x F!Reader “It’s why I love art,” he continues. “You can be close to something, feel its warmth, beauty – whatever feeling it is the artist intended to pull out of you, from a distance. Untouched – it’s untouchable. That comforts me for some reason.” 🌈The Cassandra Complex, Ch 1 🪆🔋😈 -- Din Djarin x F!Reader “Just one more, little one. Want to see it up close,” he murmurs. 🌈The Cassandra Complex, Ch 2 🪆 -- Din Djarin x F!Reader You are a burning effigy washed in the violet light of righteous fury as you stalk slowly towards his, soon to be dead, bounty. 🌈Greener Memories of Better Men 🔋🥹-- Joel Miller x F!Reader This whole entire thing is heart-wrenching and amazing.

@swiftispunk

🌈Your Summer Dream, Day 4 - Sand 🪆🔋🥹-- JOEL MILLER X F!READER “Just ask nice, baby, I’ll give you whatever you need.” THIS MAN IS A MENACE. 🌈Your Summer Dream, Day 5 - New 🪆🔋🥹-- JOEL MILLER X F!READER "Suck," you instruct him, stronger now, more desperate as he draws pleasure from you with what's clearly practiced care. "Good girl," he hums lowly, like he's genuinely proud of your confidence, like he really does want this for you. WHEN'S IT GONNA BE MY TURN?! HUHHH???????

@strang3lov3

🌈Hibachi 🪆🔋😈-- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) This whole entire thing is *CHEF'S KISS* 🌈Are We Going To Talk About It? 🪆🥹-- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) This time, you will be loved like you deserve. & You are safe here with me.  🌈Come To Jesus Moment 🪆🧠 -- bil!joel miller x fem reader (pre/no outbreak) Every time she says sorry to Jesus I howl.

@thetriumphantpanda

🌈Come Away with Me, Monday 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- Joel Miller x F!Reader x Tommy Miller OH MY GOD i am obsessed with this whole dynamic. 🌈In The Woods Somewhere, Ch 1 🪆-- Joel Miller x F!Reader plzzzzzzzz she never missesssssssss jfc

@frannyzooey

🌈Short Days, Long Nights 12 🪆🥹🧠 -- Joel Miller x f!reader this shit just fucking CHANGES MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY every fucking time I read it

@joelscruff

🌈Needy Baby 🪆🔋😈😈😈😈😈😈🥹🧠🧠🧠🧠 -- boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader bro. MY GUY. MY SISTREN. this is ... this is the hottest smust ive ever read. idc. this whole story is amazing, and then THIS??? i can't even fucking think straight

@ezrasbirdie

🌈Surrender, Ch 10 🪆🔋🥹🧠 -- joel miller x ofc daisy She flushed read from her neck to her ears. "I don't know, exactly. I just don't want to embarrass you." Daisy had a habit of casually saying things that shattered his heart. Why did she think he'd be embarrassed? PLZZZZZZ. This fucking series KILLS ME. Daisy is my homegirl, and i will fight anybody who disagrees that she is SUPREME. 🌈Surrender, Ch 11 🪆🥹🧠 -- joel miller x ofc daisy All the fears she’d worked so hard to push away returned, magnified by the memory of Joel’s lips all over her skin. He’d held her and made love to her and kissed her all over and then he left her here alone. He said he needed her, too, and then he left her here. Alone. *screams like an injured pterodactyl*

@bageldaddy

🌈I Know It When I See It, Part 3 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader But growing up a girl meant getting used to the idea that sometimes sex was painful. You’re so used to men moving with violence, with contempt. In real life, so much of fucking felt like hate, it’s not exactly a surprise to find that sometimes the same thing is true in porn. 🌈I Know It When I See It, Part 4 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader the smut in this part is so hot you are guaranteed to feel your heartbeat in your pussy lmao

@chloeangelic

🌈Yes, Father IV 🪆🔋-- Priest!Joel Miller x Priest!Javier Peña x housewife!reader the way he takes her to their bedroom instead of the guest bedroom made me wanna punch a wall what a menace lmao love it 🌈Belong To Me, Chosen 🪆🔋😈🥹 -- Line cook Joel x waitress reader the breeding kink .... DO NOT READ WHILE OVULATION im being so for real when i say that

@softlyspector

🌈Decaf 🪆🥹🧠 -- tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader this whole entire series is so delicate and intricate. i am obvs a huge slut and love smut, but this story doesn't even need it. it's so, so good.

@breakfastatjoels

🌈A Bird in Your Teeth, Epilogue 🪆🥹-- joel miller x f!reader this was the perfect ending to an AMAZING story. plz read this if you haven't already!!!!

@walkintotheriveranddisappear

🌈And His Car Is a Piece of Shit 🪆🥹-- joel miller x fem reader the angst in this one is CHEF'S KISS 🌈Total Satisfaction, from the Comfort of Your Own Home 🪆🔋-- joel miller x afab reader a man that will dick you down with a possessive edge and then do handyman jobs around the house?? sign me the fuck up

@darkroastjoel

🌈A Safe Haven, Ch 8 🪆🥹 -- Joel Miller x Female Reader; Ellie Williams x Platonic Female Reader this is like my all-time fave comfort fic 100%. it's ongoing, but i have read each existing part several times lol

@tieronecrush

🌈Only Angel, Ch 1 🪆-- javier peña x f!reader the whole concept is so good, and i love all the detail! also, the part where she emailed him about a mistake in the syllabus had me fucking rolling. NERD.

@psychedelic-ink

🌈You Hate It That You Love Me 🪆🥹 -- stripper!jack daniels x f!reader this whole series was so angsty and delicious. definitely one you will re-read over and over. 🌈Menuet 🔋😈😈😈🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠🧠 -- animal shapeshifter!pero tovar x f!reader im so fuckin mad at this story. this shit unlocked a new kink for me and fucked with my brain in the process.

@iamskyereads

🌈Compulsion Pt 5 - Initiation 🪆🔋😈🧠 -- EZRA (PROSPECT) X OFC BEATRICE I. AM. OBSESSSED. This fucking fic... I cannot BELIEVE I get to just come on this website and read shit of this caliber FOR FREE?!?!!?! insane

@party-hearses

🌈Relax, Baby 🪆🔋-- joel miller x f!reader if Joel called me princesa id be fucking DONE gone no thoughts 🌈Don't Be a Brat, Baby 🪆🔋-- joel miller x f!reader second part to the above story. such a fun read, and the dialogue is EVERYTHING so cute, sexy at times, playful. just so damn fun to read this!!!

@pascalsbby

🌈The Devil and His Brother, Pt 1 🪆🥹🧠 -- Joel x Tommy x Reader again. we get to read this shit. FOR FREE. my fucking mind cannot wrap itself around that fact. so many fucking talented writers in this fandom. thank you thank you thank you for sharing your brilliant, fun works! this story is a wonderful example of "ordinary people" knocking it out of the fucking PARK with their talent.

@cool-iguana

🌈Acting Out 🔋 😈😈😈-- Din x f! reader “Are you now? You forgot to count, though, cyar’ika. Good girls count. Let’s try again from one, no crying.” His tone dripped with condescension as he began again, practically reveling in each gasp and broken sob that spilled from your lips, taking pleasure in each time you stuttered on a number. this is so horny i love it

@mandoisapunk

🌈Ride, Cowgirl 🔋-- Joel Miller x reader i love the dynamics in their relationship and the comfort of switching it up!

@gracieispunk

🌈Bowling Night 🪆🔋-- Maintenance man!joel x f!reader listen, i am ride or die for reader. she's never done anything wrong in her entire life, and i stand by that lmao.

@toomanystoriessolittletime

🌈Revenge 🔋😈-- Dave York x fem. Reader CUCKING!!!! HELL YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[clatoera]

Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 9: I am what I am cause you trained me

Heeeeeeeey besties. I've been WAITING for this one. I've looked forward to it for a while now!! The next chapter is obviously thee chapter so this is the one we had to do. We had to get here. We have been waiting to get here for a LONG time. And here we are.

To start, I actually fuck up the months transition in this a few times I think. I dont think in months. I think in weeks, and so while the months may be off the weeks would be correct (part 1 is 12, part 2 is 16, part 3 is 34, and part 4 is 36). Much of this is accurate in terms of the physiology as well as some of the complaints.

Clove has a lot of anxieties and fears that we really otherwise don't see and so theres a lot more vulnerability on her part here than any other prior chapter so that is a bit different.

Thank you for sticking around I'm very very excited to get this out into the world!

AO3

masterpost

Title from T swift as usual

As always, thank you to the besties, especially @kentwells who has heard me ramble about this for months, and also @bodyelectric77 who doesn't hear me ramble as much about it but still is a victim to my senseless thoughts.

xoxo

From the time she was fifteen years old Clove had one, and truly only one, fear. Prior to fifteen it had been a non issue as far as she had been concerned–it’s not like anyone looked at her like that (or rather, if they did, there was someone large, blonde, and violent threatening them for even daring to do so).  

Dying in the Hunger Games didn’t even dredge up the same feeling of terror and peril. If she died in the games, well at least she went out fighting. It wasn’t like there was going to be anyone back home disappointed in her.  

Okay, maybe during her time in the capitol with blood filled joints and flayed skin, she had one greater fear. Even then, she didn’t fear death itself, considering that sometimes death would have been a welcome relief. Her fear, then, was deeper than death and more so in an eternity of that. 

Of note it wasn’t like she ever actually thought this particular fear had come true, save for once. But that was years ago, literal days before the Quarter Quell and well- she clearly never got an answer either way on that one. 

Even now, with her right index finger teetering on her teeth, shaving the nail down to the bleeding quick, she wasn’t entirely sure until right now either. The only thing she’s been positive about is that she could  actually feel her heart trying to escape the safety of her bones so that it can run off and let the fear dissipate like heat in a nuclear explosion. 

Now, well, there's two things she’s pretty positive about. 

To be fair she wasn’t necessarily doing anything to prevent living her biggest fear– she never needed to (save for a one year stint between Cato’s games and her own). She just..assumed she was very very lucky.

Who could blame her for the uncertainty, in her defense. It’s winter– and if the past three winters have taught her anything it’s that winter fucks her body up.

It had been so simple to justify.

Sure, she’s absolutely exhausted. Exhausted in a way that she can only relate to those last few months before her games, where she was training nearly sixteen hours straight. Yeah, it’s odd for her to want nothing more than to lay in bed for hours and hours a day– but she’s fucking tired. Winter always makes her tired, the cold always drains her. That’s not suspicious, right?

And sure, she’s starving. All the time. But again…it’s winter. Winter means burning more energy just to stay alive of course she’s absolutely starving. And well, when she gets sick when she goes too long without eating, it’s winter of course. She probably caught something from one of the girls. 

Even the body pain– that of course is due to the winter chill deep in her bones. Nothing more sinister, of course not. Everything that’s off about her recently well..things are off every winter after the war!

But…the one thing about Clove? She is not stupid. 

She is not stupid, but as Clove forces herself to look her reflection in the eye she notices the bleeding nails, the red ringed eyes, and the tears already trying to escape, she knows she is not stupid but she is very very very scared. 

The heart that was pounding in her chest to escape now feels so loud in her ears that it deafens her, the nails that now have no edge try to dig into her palms to ground her. She is unsure how she finds the ceramic ledge of the bath to sit on, but she somehow does. For a minute she thinks that she’s dying, that her brain is screaming for air with the way her vision blurs from the periphery inward (she always knew this would cause her death). It’s not until she can hear her own breathing, coming out in desperate, choking gasps that she realizes she’s crying.

Her hands don’t shake– her hands couldn’t shake, that would have meant her death– but as she tries to press the heels of her hands into her eyes she realizes that oh maybe they do as her body fails her in yet another way. 

She didn’t even have a mother. 

How could she be someone’s?

She doesn’t know how long she sits there on the ledge, how long her heart tries to run away from her.  It’s long enough that the skin of her cheeks run raw from the assault of tears, enough that the blood under her nails dries, long enough that her face is drained of any and all color. Her mind is both simultaneously empty and racing, as she barely processes which handle of the faucet to reach for. In her haze she manages to turn on the cold water, and her quivering hand can barely cup enough water to splash on her face. It’s barely enough to bring her back to reality, but it is enough to quell the stinging of her eyes. 

When she catches her appearance again, she almost doesn’t recognize herself. The angry red around her eyes, the stark lack of color even for her. Even her hair falls loosely in her eyes, plastered to her skin by the salt and tracks of her own tears. Looking at herself like this doesn’t even feel like she is seeing her own reflection.

Clove can’t help but think of her mother. 

Did her own mother cry herself raw, when she discovered her existence? Did she bite her nails to nubs, did she think Clove was her worst fear manifested?  Did she know that she’d be on her own within days, did she know not a person in the world was going to stand beside her for the next years of her life? Did she know that Clove was going to be her downfall, did she know that she was the only person in the world who would care if Clove lived or died?

Clove feels another tightening in her throat, another rush of warmth down her cheeks. She stares at herself, unblinking, as the tears continue. 

She knows she isn’t crying for herself, this time, but instead for fifteen year old Sevina Kentwell. The Little Girl, because she really was nothing more than a child, that was her mother. 

“You’re not a teenager.” Clove reminds herself, gripping the edge of the sink until her hands hurt. She is not a fifteen year old, she’s a twenty three year old woman. 

“You’re not alone, he won’t leave.” Yes, her father left her mother, but Cato would never. Could never, and would never. 

“I already won.” She tries, bringing her ice cold hand to her chest, desperately trying to regulate this meltdown before Cato gets home and finds her this way. “I won, I won, I won. I can’t die and leave it behind.” 

Even if she died, there was Cato. Cato, who no doubt, would do anything for even the theoretical baby they did not actually have yet. There was Cato. If something happened to him, well, there was Enobaria. Enobaria and then Glimmer and then Marvel and then, well, beyond that didn’t matter. 

“I won’t die. I won’t die. I won’t die.” Clove manifested, clenching her eyes shut as tightly as she could. “I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. ”

She catches herself off guard, her eyes snapping open as fast as the word slipped out. We. How quickly she’s shifted, how quickly she accepts that she’s not even alone in her own body anymore. She’ll never be alone again. 

Somehow, though, that doesn’t send her spiraling. It was never the child part that scared her. 

That wasn’t her fear, it was not the baby part that she was so frightened of. 

It was the fear of perpetuating a cycle of death and abandonment. It was the near guarantee that she will be a bad mother, with none to model herself after. 

Still, despite that near guarantee of her own impending failure, Clove catches the hint of a smile in her reflection. 

Sure, she may not be good at it, but Cato will be.  In the back of her mind she can still see the look on his face, half a decade ago after her games, when he absently mentioned how he imagined their children to look. 

Even now she herself can't help but wonder if she’ll see her own freckles on her son, or have a dark haired little girl to break up the sea of blondes and redheads that are the children of their friends. 

Hers. It’s her kid. Which, as scary as it is to stomach, is somehow a lot less frightening than she had ever expected. 

She’s normally so aware of her surroundings, hyper attune to any shift in the floor, to the point that nothing can surprise her. Somehow now, she is so in her head, that when she hears the kitchen door slam she practically jumps out of her skin

Clove can hear the heavy steps (stomps? Is he in a mood? What the fuck she’d normally be able to tell) as Cato climbs them two at a time, giving her quite literally just enough time to step into the hall to meet him at the same time he hits the top floor. 

“Was no one going to tell me that pink comes in multiple shades. Apparently saying I need it in pink doesn’t mean much when you’re buying something for toddler girls.” Cato mumbles, pulling out the little paper receipt and bringing it up to eye level. He squints, holding the little sheet a few inches from his face. “I got one..Carnation? And the other one…bubblegum. I thought they were the same color but I was corrected many many many times.” Cato rubs his hand on the back of his neck, heading in a quick right towards their room. “What time do we need to leave?”

Fuck. She was out of it today. Of course, they had to go to District One today (very soon actually) for the twins' first birthday party. Great. She’d feel fantastic after that train ride, for sure. Well damn, was she supposed to wait to tell him after now or-

She doesn’t hear him say her name again, truly locked into her own mind again, when his hand engulfing her shoulder brings her back to her body.

“Clove? Are you okay? We don’t have to go if you aren’t up to it, I know you’ve been really tired lately and it’s okay! We don’t have to-” His voice is just so soft, with concern that is not patronizing but truly genuine, and by the time she glances up to meet his eyes she can’t help but let the words just come out before she has a moment to process what she’s saying. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

For all Clove is not a crier, something in her snaps the second she looks up at him and sees the look of outright love in his pretty blue eyes. For all the times in her life she had been terrified of saying those exact words to him, she had never once expected the way he’d look at her like this. 

She doesn’t give him time to even react before she’s back in tears, fully pressing herself into his chest before he has the time to respond. Or rather, she misses his soft “...really?” when she burrows herself against him. She feels one hand on her back as she feels the other on her face, wiping away the streak of tears over her right cheek bone. That same hand tilts her face up so he can look down at her directly. 

“...are you okay?” Even with the hesitation in his voice Clove can’t miss the absolute joy barely hidden below the surface. As soon as she gives even the slightest nod, she watches as maybe the brightest smile she’s ever seen breaks across his face. It must be infectious, because she can’t help her own in return. 

“I’m okay. I’m really really okay.”  Clove promises, leaning her face into his hand, laughing just a little through her now obsolete tears. “You don’t seem surprised?”

“You don’t cry, I had to ask.” Not just that– Cato knew her better than even himself sometimes. He knew, more than absolutely anyone else, just how scared of this she was. “I don’t think we have any right to be shocked, Clove.” 

Fair enough. 

“It’s like…everything you ever wanted, right?” Clove uses her own hand to wipe the other side of her eyes, before slinking both of her arms around his neck, fully just letting him take the bulk of her weight. 

“Clove, I already have everything I wanted. This is just… beyond that.” It wasn’t a secret that yes, Cato had always imagined his children with Clove, even more so in the last couple of years. Even still they’d been through enough, Clove more than most. It wasn’t something he was going to push her on. “Do you know how long or-”

“Uh like twenty minutes ago-” Clove starts, audibly sighing and rubbing at her eyes when she realizes that's not quite what he meant. “Sorry. Just..I’m not thinking straight today. But no. Sometime between…December and now. Zero to Three months, I don’t actually know. There are…many..many many…many many..many many..many…many times this could have happened, so. We’ll find out.”

Cato’s hands both slide down to her waist, and he lifts her to his height with practiced ease before he kisses her in a way she isn’t sure he has in the seven years they’ve spent with each other, but that she hopes he replicates again and again. She laughs against his lips, as she brings her fingers to thread into his hair slightly, just toying with the base of his neck. 

“On second thought we don’t have to go..” Cato mumbles, barely even pulling away from her to talk, still so close that their nose and heads touched. 

“We have to go. Glimmer will kill us.” Clove sighs in response, but stays impossibly close to him. 

Cato lets go of her with audible annoyance, letting her feet hit the floor before he actually huffs. 

“Fine. But we’re only going because we need to make sure our kid has friends.”

She would be lying if she didn’t say it felt like warmth spread through her chest when she heard the word ours.

Later that evening, they’re standing in the corner of a pink glitter and balloon covered living room. He’s behind her, his arm around the front of her shoulders holding her flush to him, whispering in her ear silly jokes about how they will not be adding a glittery, heart covered, pink wall to their house for the sake of a birthday party next year. 

Between their own little jokes and her stifled giggles, she can’t help but watch their friends. Glimmer, who for the first time in her life freely accepts the swipe of icing on her nose from one of her children or the man she made them with, all the while smiling and laughing without a care in the world for the way it would affect her makeup or her dress size. Or Marvel, carrying around the girls who look nothing like him but look like everything in the world that he loves. 

It dawns on her then, that maybe the reason it is a lot less scary that it is her baby, is because it’s his too.

____________________________________________________________

“You’ve slowed down.” 

Clove quite literally jumps when she hears the voice from directly behind her, and if she didn’t know any better she most definitely would have yelped too, if she didn’t recognize that tone of dissatisfaction immediately.

“Oh for fucks sake Enobaria, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Clove pauses, coming to a full stop so she can bring her heart rate back down to earth. She pulls her head band down over her ears, now even colder without her own adrenaline to ward off the biting cold of late District Two winter. “It’s March, Enobaria, give me a break. It’s always hard to get back into it after the snow melts.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Clove.” Enobaria rolls her eyes as she catches up to her fully, grabbing her by the upper arm and pulling her over to the side, off the same path back to Victors’ Village they both take every day. 

The sense of Deja Vu is intense, and Clove swears for a minute she’s seventeen again, being pulled into the woods on her way back to the Academy on what Enobaria had always so lovingly called her “run of shame.”

“Are you still slutting yourself out, Clove, or did you come to your fucking senses?” Enobaria had truly hissed in her ear, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her forward with her nails in her skin.  “Don’t even answer that, I’m not as stupid as you think I am Clove. I know what you’re still doing.”

‘Still’, meaning in the past couple of months since Cato returned from the Seventy Second Hunger Games. Enobaria had, naively mind you,  assumed it was just a phase. Teenagers and their little hormones and all that. She figured it wouldn’t last that long, maybe a couple of weeks, as the novelty of victory wore off for Cato. 

Surely he would have a whole crowd of girls after him, but she didn’t think Clove was dumb enough to be one of them. Unfortunately, apparently, she was very very wrong, judging by the way Clove showed up at the academy every morning in clothes that were far too fine to be Academy issued and far too big to be her own. 

Nevermind the fact that some mornings she could literally see her seventeen year old mentee cooking breakfast across the street, playing housewife when she should be playing future victor. 

“I’m not slutting myself out, it’s just Cato-”

“Shut it. I always told you I wasn’t going to let what happened to your mother happen to you. And do you know why, Clove? Because I will kill you and Cato both before you ever step in that arena, got it? Don’t fuck this up for yourself.” Enobaria didn’t even give her time to respond, before she let go of her arm and truly pushed her forward, watching as she stumbled the first few feet before nearly falling to the ground. “Get to training.”

“I’m serious, Clove. You usually get back to the house by nine eighteen if you do six miles. You’re not making it back until Nine thirty. I know you aren’t at seven, you always said the number seven freaked you out, and frankly  you’re not fast enough to do eight at that pace. Never have been.” Enobaria narrows her eyes, giving her solid full body once over, practically an inspection for any obvious injuries. “You aren’t eighteen, Clove. You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay for things to be different, but don’t push yourself to the point you’re hurting. Six may be a lot for you right now, don’t risk it. It’s winter, I know everything hurts you, Clove. But that's a significant time change, I’m just a little concerned–”

“‘Baria. I’m not hurt. I promise. It’s just the beginning of the warm season, and it hurts a little bit but nothing that bad–” Clove tries, putting her hands on top of Enobaria’s wrists as she looks her over. Enobaria clearly means the concern with love, nothing less, nothing with anger.

“It’s not just that, Clove, your form has changed, you seem hesitant and skeptical when you hit the ground, you look hurt. You can tell me if you’re hurt, we can change something, just tell me. You’ve been through a lot, Clove.” Enobaria offers softly, bringing an uncharacteristically gentle hand up to Clove’s upper arm where she rubs random circles. 

Clove goes to defend herself and her body when she is taken off guard by Enobaria’s observation and gentleness, narrowing her eyes as she gives her mentor a once over. “...why are you paying such close attention to me?”

“It’s my job, Clove. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re in the best condition I can get you in. I always watch. And I know something’s changed, I know what they did to you Clove, and we can modify things to make sure you’re not going to get hurt–”  Enobaria insists, once again leading her back up the path to their homes. She’s whispering, because if there is one thing about a Career victor that they cannot seem to shake after everything, is that their public reputation matters. They make it to the steps of Enobaria’s front porch where she eases them both down to the bottom step where many of their longest conversations in Clove’s life have occurred. 

Once upon a time someone overhearing this conversation would have been catastrophic. 

“Oh..Enobaria.” Clove whispers softly as she realizes this is her showing her love. This is how they always showed their concern– tough love.  She is gently grabbing at Enobaria’s upper arm now, giving the lightest little squeeze.. “I’m not hurt, not any more than usual. It’s not that. I know i’m slower than I used to be–”

“What’s wrong, then, Clove? It’s not a big deal, we can fix whatever it is.” Enobaria tries, doing her best to relay genuine concern rather than passing judgment. It’s been her sole responsibility, to keep Clove healthy, for twenty entire years now. 

And yes, maybe she had some guilt over not being able to keep her safe during the war, and needed to make up for it somehow. 

“...I didn’t want to tell you.” Clove whispers, and when Enobaria looks up at her she swears her blood runs genuinely cold at the fear (and tears) in the younger girl’s eyes. “You’re going to be so disappointed in me, Enobaria, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what, Clove, I’m not disappointed it’s okay to be hurt, it’s not your fault–” She immediately tries to ensure, holding Clove by the shoulders before the freckled girl turns to the side, looking at the sky to blink back her tears before they can freeze to the pale expanse of her skin. 

“I don’t even know how to tell you, you’re going to hate me. I’m so sorry, Enobaria, please I didn’t mean to disappoint you–”

“Clove, I’ll never hate you, now what’s wrong.”

Clove swallows the lump in her throat, before she rises from the step, taking a few steps forward out of Enobaria’s reach. She wipes at her face with the sleeves of her coat before she unzips it. Clove turns to the side as she fingers the hem of her– Cato’s– shirt, before she tugs just the bottom up. 

Enobaria raises an eyebrow, eyeing Clove’s incredibly toned and extremely flat lower abdomen. “Are you trying to show off the abs of a sixteen year old or–”

“What? No? You don’t see it?” Clove glances down, confused as to how she could miss it. Okay, maybe there is absolutely nothing to miss, with years and years of intense workouts to thank, but Clove most certainly notices a difference when she looks at herself in the mirror. “Please don’t make me say it, I can’t say it to you.”

“Say what Clove?”

“Enobaria…I’m..well… No, baria, I can’t say it, I can’t watch you hate me, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Clove rambles, shaking her head rapidly to insist she did not mean to bring such shame on herself. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been afraid of disappointing, I’m so sorry. But please, don’t kill me, I want this.”

“Clove what are you talking about–” Enobaria nearly rolls her eyes, but something about the tears, the fear, and the now dropped shirt click all the pieces into place and she actually gasps as her brown eyes go wide. She feels her lip fall so softly into a sigh, and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it as she opens her arms to her. “Oh. Clove, honey, it’s okay.”

Clove visibly hesitates to come towards her, frozen like prey deciding if she has a chance to run before she is torn to pieces. That's new, too, that in Fight or Flight her instinct has become flight. “....are you mad at me?”

“Just come here.” She offers one last time, gesturing her forward with her hands. “I’m not mad, Clove. You just look terrified.”

“You always said you’d kill me.” Clove explains warily, one foot planted behind her as if she is ready to haul it across the street to her home as fast as she can. “Do you still want to kill me?”

“Clove, you were a teenager. That was the best threat I had, and it worked. You knew I was capable of it.” She offers with exasperation, dropping her offer of any sort of physical comfort. “You’re not a little girl anymore. I don’t control what you do. I don’t have to worry about getting you in and out of an arena now, you’re an adult.”

“...but are you disappointed?” 

“No, Clove. I’m not disappointed. I’m a little disappointed that you seem actually scared of me right now, but that’s my own fault.” She frowns, dropping her hands completely to her side to take away any threat Clove could be left to perceive. “I’m not going to hurt you at all, Clove. I promise.”

Clove lets her stance relax, and hesitantly takes a step closer to her mentor and practically sister at this point. “I just… I want this, Enobaria. And I want that to be okay. But I also know it killed my mom and..”

“You’re allowed to want to be a mother Clove. You’re not upsetting anyone. You’re an adult. You survived a war. You have absolutely earned and deserve whatever life you could possibly want.” Enobaria cocks her head, and against her better judgment just steps forward to pull Clove into a hug whether she wants it or not. “Clove. Being pregnant, having you.. That isn’t what killed your mom. The games killed her..Snow killed her. It wasn’t you. It was never you. You were never the reason your mother died, and I am so sorry anyone has ever told you differently.”

If Clove’s grandmother weren’t already dead and rotting, she sure would be after today, Enobaria would have seen to that. 

Clove’s only response is a weak nod as she buries her face in Enobaria’s hair, needing more than she realized to hear those exact words. “You’re really not mad?”

“Of course not, Clove.  I promise. You’ll be a good mom. You already take care of everyone else.” Enobaria assures her, bringing her hand up to run over the length of Clove’s long dark hair where it’s come out of the pony tail. “When are you supposed to have it?”

“September.” Clove mumbles into her hair, relaxing until Enobaria gently pushes her back so she can look at her with a quizzical expression as the calculator runs in her brain. 

“...you’re four months pregnant right now? Were you planning on ever telling me?”

Clove nods, brushing her fly aways out of her face with the sleeve of her coat. “I only found out last month. We haven’t told anyone. You were first on the list though, I just wanted to wait a little longer. “

Enobaria just nods, looking her over with the new lens. It made sense now, why Clove seemed so hesitant and careful, and of course slower. “...you’re four months pregnant and you still look like that?”

She gives another nod, the slightest smirky smile taking over her face. “They said it’s ‘cause it’s my only baby. And because I have worked so so hard for such a strong set of muscles in my torso. Thanks for that.”

“Oh good. I guess the Cato genes didn’t kick in then. Not that would fuck you up.”

“Thanks for the reassurance, Baria.” Clove laughs, anyway.

_____________________________________________________________

“Well aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine today, Clove!”

“Can you shut the fuck up, Sparkles?” Clove snaps from her end of the couch, elbows on the arm rest with both her hands on her face, holding up the weight of her head. 

“Oh what an absolute joy we’re going to have together!” Glimmer rolls her eyes playfully from the opposite end of the chair, not even bothering to look over at her truly miserable friend, instead content with focusing on the intricacies of the floral embroidery she is adding to the fabric in her hands. “Remind me again why I'm here if you’re going to be a bitch to me?”

“Because.” Clove groans, stretching out one leg towards Glimmer’s side. “I made one joke that I was just going to have this baby in the bath tub and now Cato won’t let me be alone. He’s just being a scared little pussy bitch baby.”

“Ah. Right. I’m babysitting you.” Glim taunts. “You know, we could just go outside and enjoy the pool with the fathers of our children and my daughters. Cato definitely doesn’t have a shirt on and we both know how you feel about that so…”

“I am not going outside like this.” Clove hisses, shifting yet again in her seat, searching for even the slightest relief of her permanent discomfort at this point in her life. “Cato is safer if I can’t see him or get a straight line to him. My center of gravity may suck but he’s big and an easy target–”

“Clove I’m sure the pool would feel so good, it’s like being weightless, and it’s nice and cool–”

“Have you ever been excessively pregnant in the middle of July? With a giant fucking baby? No? That's what I thought.” She snips at her friend, before once again shifting her legs back and forth over each other. 

“No, but I had two babies at the same time. So I think I get the discomfort part.” Glimmer sets down her handiwork, craning her upper body to look at her incredibly uncomfortable friend. “Go ahead. Just let it out.”

“What?”

“Just say it. Whatever’s on your mind. It sucks and you look absolutely miserable. So. Just…let it out. Say whatever you have to say. Complain. Whine. Whatever. You’re miserable and we’re alone. Just let it out. But remember. I grew two. And I can out complain you.” 

Glimmer clasps her hands in her lap respectfully, giving her full and undivided attention to Clove.

Clove doesn’t even bother to hesitate, being given a free stage to complain to somehow who was not going to take any of her slights personally. She sighs loudly before beginning. 

“I fucking hate this. This sucks. I’m so fucking tired. All the time. But I don’t even get to sleep because this kid just moves all. Fucking. Night! Sleeps all day but then it’s like gym class in there the second I go to sleep! Not to mention I can’t even get comfortable, it’s like she’s crushing my spine in here. Or he. Whatever. She’s crushing my spine, he’s crushing my spine, whoever it is is absolutely fucking my back–” 

“Okay, pause, do you want suggestions as we go, or when you’re done?”

“Glimmer. Just let me talk. You can keep the joys of motherhood talk until the end.”

“That's not what I was going to say, but okay, keep going.”

“Where was I? Oh! The pain. I am in agony. All the time. I can’t go in a hot bath because i’ll boil him in there, but holy fuck does this hurt. Sometimes it hurts so bad I can’t breathe, Glimmer. It’s like every joint in my body is being ripped open especially here-” Clove runs her hand over her upper back. “I just hurt all the time and I never want to do this again. I can’t. I just hope this kid is a boy so Cato won’t want me to do it again–”

“Has he said he wants it to be a boy, Clove?” Glimmer raises an eyebrow with disbelief, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “He seems pretty happy with the girls, I don’t think he’d be that upset either way. You know you can find out–”

“No he’s never said it but I assume that’s what he’d prefer. And I never want to do this ever again.” Clove absolutely insists, twisting back to her other side still entirely unable to get even the slightest bit comfortable. “Oh, and I’m fucking hungry all the time. That’s great. All I fucking want is a sandwhich, all day every day. But I can’t even have one. Because I can’t have that sandwich meat. I’d actually slit someone’s throat for a turkey and cheese sandwich right now, Glimmer. I would sit and eat mozzarella cheese balls with a spoon, and I don’t even like Mozzarella cheese, but I can’t have it so I want it. I hope this kid knows that it is SPECIAL.”

“...are you done?” Glimmer prods gently, turning to face Clove before she gently pats the couch in front of her. “Come here.”

“Yeah, I actually feel a lot better after that.” Clove admits, before she actually scowls at Glimmer. “Come where? You’re not messing with my hair right now..”

“Put your head right here, if you let me touch you, I can help.” Glimmer offers, once again touching the couch in front of her. “As long as you don’t bite my hands off…”

“I don’t know, Glimmer-”

“Clove! Lay down! Right now.” Glimmer insists, actually just reaching across the couch and grabbing her by the hand before pulling her down practically into her lap. “Lay on your..left side.”

“My side? I’m not a side sleeper-”

“You are now, lay down.” Glimmer rolls her eyes, before she leans just a little bit forward over Clove. “You probably hurt extra because you’re literally letting her crush your back and everything in it. It helps a lot to put all that weight to the front. Now two things, the first one I’m going to touch your back okay?” 

Clove nods as Glimmer’s fingers find the small of her back, and all she does is press in before Clove lets out an actual soft gasp of relief. 

“See? Now, wrap your hands under your stomach, okay?” Glimmer instructs kindly, before putting her hands on top of clothes and pulling up towards her face just a little. “See? It takes all the weight off-”

“OH my God.” Clove breathes in very clear relief, some of the tension truly melting off of her face. “Okay, scratch what I said, you’re an angel, Glimmer.”

“You could just tell Cato to do this, it really will help–”

“Oh absolutely not. I never want him to touch me ever again in my fucking life. I hate him for this. It’s his fault.” Clove snaps right back to her anger, but doesn’t dare flinch too much out of Glimmer’s very intentionally placed hands. “Seriously, If he ever tries to touch me again I’ll cut every one of his fingers off. He’s lucky I let him sleep in the same bed, but he has to stay on the complete opposite side. Seriously, I’m not built for this like you are. That asshole tries to take pictures of me, too, and I about broke his hand yesterday morning by ripping the camera out of it.”

“Hmm, that's unlike you.” Glimmer teases, but there is a softness in her voice that is not quite patronizing but not dreamlike either. “What do you mean like I am?”

“I don’t know Glimmer, you seemed so happy, and you were just so glowy and beautiful and you just were so peaceful and grateful and I feel fucking horrific. I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive another six weeks of this.” Clove mumbles, though her eyes are closed and with her head against Glimmer’s leg there is a lot less malice in her tone. “I’m not you.”

“Oh…Clove, I'm sorry. I don’t think I was very honest with you.” Glimmer admits, glancing down at her friend. “Clove, I cried every. Single. Night. I’d wait until Marvel was asleep, and then I’d go sit in the girls room sometimes for hours and just…cry.  I was terrified, like legitimately terrified. Every single night. For hours. Do you know why I was okay with not telling anyone the twins were twins? Because I was convinced one of them wasn’t going to make it. Aurelia, specifically. She was always so much smaller, always. I didn’t want to tell anyone in case she didn’t and then no one would ever know. And looking back, I can’t imagine pretending she didn’t exist. It would kill me. There's pictures of me, too, every single week, and I can’t look at them either. They’re hidden so I won’t burn them, because I can’t see myself that way even now. No, I was not in as much pain as you are, I know that. But I was scared. I was so so so scared.”

“Glimmer, I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that–”

“No, Clove. You should know.” Glimmer insists, shaking her head briskly back and forth. “It’s not fair to you to think that you’re experiencing it wrong. Because you aren’t. I was terrified. Everything else you mentioned…I get some of it. The reason it moves more at night when you’re trying to sleep is because when you walk around all day you like rock her to sleep, so when you lay down it’s not keeping her asleep anymore. If you talk to it, that might help–”

“What do you mean talk to it, it can’t hear me, Glimmer?”

“...of course he can hear you, Clove. Don’t you like..talk to him?”

“Well, no, I didn’t think he could hear through everything between us.” Clove shrugs slightly, trying not to let any of the guilt she suddenly felt slip into her face. Add that as another check as to why she’s an unfit mother.

“...there is literally nothing between you. It’s quite literally as close to you as another human could ever possibly be. The girls didn’t know their names, because they obviously couldn’t differentiate who was who, but when I didn’t know which one was doing something I'd just call them sis, literally just sis, and they did respond to that.” Glimmer can’t help her smile at the memory of her tiny girls in the earliest days of their lives. “They knew when I talked, and they knew Marvel too, because he used to lay in bed and talk to them for hours. I sometimes wonder how they became such chatty little girls, they use real words now, but it’s not actually a question. They get it from him. Now they wake me up with these little hands on my face going ‘Hi mama’ over and over until I wake up. Sometimes I pretend to be sleeping a few extra minutes just because their little voices are so damn cute.”

“You’re just meant to be a mom, Glimmer, that’s what I mean. You just talk about them like that.” Clove explains, running a hand over her face in exhaustion. “How do you just love like that? So freaking effortlessly. I’m fucking terrified I won’t know how to love it.”

“...because that’s just what happens, Clove. It just happens. I promise, Clove. It is effortless. I’m not worried about you not loving your kid, because you will. It’s the easiest thing in the world to do, not having one, but loving one.” Glimmer promises, with such a soft edge in her voice Clove feels like she is being talked to not by her friend but by a mother. “I do think you need to be kinder to yourself. Let Cato help you, Clove, that's why he’s there.”

“No, I can’t tell him.”

“Tell him what, Clove? That you’re uncomfortable? That's a given. You’re tiny and you are sharing your body with another human. You went through things no one can understand, of course you’re uncomfortable.”

Clove rolls further on her side, not wanting to face any passing judgment from Glimmer. “I don’t want him to see me as weak, Glimmer.”

“OH stop RIGHT there, Clove. He would NEVER. I mean that, never in the entirety of his life, is he going to see you that way. I’m sure of it. I will never forget the months he worried about you, and weak was never a word he associated with you. He thinks you walk on water, there's not anyone who’s ever going to be stronger in his eyes than you Clove. I know that without a doubt. He will never see you as weak.”

“But this is different, Glimmer. I should just be good at this, too.” Clove insists half heartedly, dropping the hand under Glimmer’s but actually letting out a whine at the immediate loss of relief followed by the familiar tugging ache. 

“You need to let him help you. He wants to. Besides, he’s got big hands. Make him hold up the baby so you can sleep, you deserve it.” Glimmer promises, gently brushing over Clove’s upper arm. 

“You know, you mentioned how Marvel likes to talk. Back, you know, when we were in the Capitol? Sometimes they’d just drop me back off in this cell and I'd be just…i’d be bleeding and I was in so much pain I couldn't even see straight. And it could be the middle of the night, it could be the morning, I never knew we didn’t know time, but he would sit there and talk to me through the wall for hours. I don’t even know about what. But I think he was afraid that if I fell asleep I wouldn’t wake back up, and so he would keep me just awake enough…he’s good, Glimmer. I know you two had it rough, but he’s good.”

“I know he is. They both are, somehow.” Glimmer gives the softest smile in return, brushing her now free hand over Clove’s hair over and over. Clove isn’t looking up at her, her eyes closed in contentment and genuine relief, allowing her to actually relax. “...and that's why I'm ignoring the fact I can see them throwing my sixteen month olds back and forth in the pool right now.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Cato….Cato…babe…Cato.” Clove nudges impatiently, which soon turns to grabbing his shoulder and shaking slightly. “Cato…Cato!”

“Hmm?” His voice is muffled by the pillow where he buries his face, not even bothering to lift his head from the dead of his sleep. All Clove can really see of him is the broad expanse of his shirtless back, and the mess of his hair facing upwards on the pillow. Even his arms, where they are buried under the pillow to hold up his face, do not move with her insistence. 

“You better learn to wake the fuck up when this kid gets here, I’m not going to be the only one losing sleep.” Clove warns, but fishes his hand out from under the pillow and brings it to her side. “He’s moving a lot right now.”

“Could it be because you’re talking to him at-” Cato raises half his head, just enough so he could see the bedside clock “...two in the morning, Clovey?”

“He was moving before that, too, Cato.” Clove murmurs, moving the dead weight of Cato’s hand around until he relents and turns on his side to face her. “Feel him.” She absolutely insists, leaning back on her hands to prop herself up. “Or her, I guess. I think he’s a boy though. Just a feeling.”

“I think so, too.” Cato admits, and with a sly smile he slides his hand under her (his) shirt, just to feel the smoothness of her skin under his fingertips. There was something about it, even in the dead of the night, about Clove’s little body engulfed by his clothes. He was, as always, obsessed with her, a fact he never let her forget. 

Even if she insisted it’s because nothing else fit her– bold, considering this still looked like a dress that hit her knees. 

“We need to figure out what we’re gonna name this baby, Cato. We’ve got a month if we’re lucky.” Clove put her hand on top of his, guiding it around to the most opportune place that their kid seemed to be hanging out at any given moment. 

“Well you rejected naming him Cato so-”

“Absolutely not, your ego is bad enough, I do not want to live with two Cato Hadleys.” Clove warned, but the soft look in her eyes betrayed anything but annoyance. She strums her fingers on top of his gently, giving them a little soft squeeze. “I love you, you know.”

“I know. You wouldn’t do this if you didn’t.” Cato acknowledges, shifting his head over to lay on her other hand. “I know it’s not easy, It’s been a lot on you. I love you, and somehow I love you more every day, even when you’re threatening to cut off my hands.”

“Well I kind of need you to have hands now, so you’re safe.” Clove teases, but brushes her fingers over the mess of his hair. “You know, I’m going to do all this work and it’s going to come out looking just like you.”

“Hey, I did some work too-”

“Like five minutes of work nine months ago.”

“That’s cold, it was way more than five minutes.”

“Okay, eight minutes.” Clove can’t quite lean down to kiss him, so she settles for squeezing his hand instead. “I’m kidding. You know that. I wouldn’t survive this without you, and I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”

“I know, babe. And I never forget that.”

She huffs impatiently as their child has seemingly decided it’s no longer time to play now that Cato’s been woken up, but the reason why hits her like bricks to her chest and the softest little “oh” comes out first. 

“Keep talking to him.” She softly demands of him, holding his hand to her while she so carefully shifts to lay on her side to face him.

“Huh?”

“He stopped when you started talking. He knows you. Keep talking to him, so I can sleep.”

“Are you serious? What should I say?”

“Do I even look like I’m slightly kidding? Goodnight, Cato. Bond with your child.” 

[ladykailitha]

In the Midnight Hour Part 12

Just one more part after this. I’m sad to see it go. It’s been a lot of fun. It’s also the longest story I’ve written for this fandom. Thank you all so much for following this story and all your comments and tags have made me so happy. :D

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

*

The next day Steve made sure that Eddie’s visitors were in small groups only. He got a lot of flack for that, but Steve didn’t care. He explained that with Eddie having to write down what he wanted to say having too many people would overwhelm him.

They grumbled but conceded the point.

The first ones in were Dustin and Robin. Steve was starting small and working his way up. Wayne was at the door, making sure everyone got their turn. Ten minutes each.

Eddie had gotten a large poster board and wrote: MY HEROES!! Causing Robin and Dustin to laugh breaking the tension almost immediately.

“Steve’s the real hero,” Dustin said coming up and giving Eddie a careful hug.

Eddie shook his head and pulled out his notebook. “Steve broke me, you guys put me back together again. Like Humpty Dumpty.”

Steve protested. “Hey!”

Robin giggled. “It’s true though.”

Eddie wrote: “Grateful.”

Steve’s expression softened. “I wish there had been a less violent way to save you.”

Eddie wrote: “Me too.”

“Doesn’t matter how it happened,” Dustin said. “You’re back. You’re alive.” He lifted up Eddie’s hand gently. “Will you be able to play?”

“Doc says yes,” Steve said for him. “It’s the voice they’re most worried about.”

Eddie nodded.

“Well I, for one, am glad you’re back,” Robin said.

Eddie cocked his head to the side and then wrote “Why’s that?”

Robin glanced over at Steve with a feral grin.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh no. Don’t you dare.”

Eddie and Dustin looked back and forth in confusion.

“What?” Dustin asked, saving Eddie the question.

“All the moping and whining about not having enough time with Eddie to really get to know him,” she said with a wink. “If you know what I mean.”

Dustin frowned. “Well, we all felt Steve’s love for Eddie.”

Robin grinned. “I’m not just talking about love, kiddo.”

Dustin shrugged. “So what if Steve likes guys? Are you guys homophobic or something?”

Robin and Eddie both turn and look at him eyes wide. And then they look at each before bursting out into laughter.

“No, genius child,” Robin crowed. “We’re gay. It’s a little hard to be homophobic.”

Dustin screwed up his nose. “Oh...you’re biphobic!”

Steve burst out laughing at the shocked faces of his friends. He rubbed the top of Dustin’s head. “It’s not like that, bud. They’re trying to say in the most round about way that I’m in love with Eddie. Like, love love.” He made gesture over Dustin’s head, a cutting motion across his throat as he mouthed the words, ‘He’s too young!’

Dustin’s face cleared. “Oh!” He looked between Eddie and Steve. “And do you love love Steve back?”

Eddie blushed and shoved his hair in front of his face to hide his reddening cheeks. Steve’s breath caught in his chest as Eddie nodded.

“Yeah?”

Eddie nodded again.

Steve leaned over and kissed his lips gently. “Good to hear it.”

There was a knock on the door. Their ten minutes was up.

Dustin grinned. “Don’t you be hogging him, Steve. You can kiss his lights out off after everyone has had a chance to talk to him, k?”

Steve blushed. “I promise.”

Dustin followed Robin out.

“The next group is Nancy, Jonathan, Mike and Will,” Steve murmured. “You haven’t met the Byers brothers, yet. But I think you’ll love Will.”

Eddie grinned.

The four of them shuffled in and Nancy immediately ran over and gave Eddie the biggest hug. Eddie’s blush deepened as he hurriedly wrote something down.

“Don’t worry, I’m gay.” And he held it up over Nancy’s head.

Jonathan laughed. Will on the other hand looked shocked.

“Wait,” he murmured. “You are?”

Mike looked over at Will in confusion.

Nancy stood up. “Hold up, before we get too far off topic. Introductions need to be made.”

Steve laughed. “Eddie Munson, Jonathan and Will Byers.”

Eddie tilted his head and grinned. “Us freaks should stick together.” He pointed at Will and then back to himself.

“In more ways than one,” Will agreed. “My ‘death’ started this whole thing and your ‘death’ ended it.”

Eddie’s grin got bigger. “Hell yeah!” he wrote.

Jonathan smiled and then wagged his finger at Eddie. “Now, no converting him to metal. I have spent too many years keeping him on the alternative rock scene to have you go and mess this up on me.”

Eddie let out a wheezing laugh. “No promises,” he wrote.

Mike’s face fell. “I heard about your voice, man. Does this mean that you won’t be able to DM anymore?”

Eddie shrugged.

“He’s working with a speech therapist,” Steve said.

“I have a lot of those!” Eddie wrote with a wink. “Two physical therapists, one for my body and one for hands. Then even another for all the trauma.”

Nancy picked up his hand, the tips still bandaged. “You went through so much. That’s not say that you had it better or worse,” she quickly amended when Jonathan, Will, and Mike glared at her. “This town took so much from you. I just hope it doesn’t take away your ability to do the things you love.”

The three of them softened. Because she was right. Despite what everyone had gone through, it was Eddie and Max that had the most taken from them. And it wasn’t fair.

“Tell me about taking out the gates,” Eddie wrote when the silence got too awkward.

Mike and Will launched into how bad ass it was and how cool Jonathan and Nancy had been in helping Joyce and Hopper take down the gates.

Far too soon another knock came on the door.

Nancy gave Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze. “You take care of Steve for me, okay?”

Eddie looked up at her in shock and Steve looked away. She just patted Steve’s cheek and walked out, the three boys following close behind. Will stopped at the doorway and looked back at Eddie and Steve. Their foreheads were touching as Steve whispered something to Eddie.

Will smiled. Hope really did spring eternal.

“One last group and then you rest,” Steve said. “Okay?”

Eddie nodded. Steve could tell that he was already getting tired, but he hoped that this last group would be the easiest on Eddie.

Lucas wheeled in Max with Erica and El following close behind.

“You look like shit, Munson,” Max said.

Eddie rasped, “How would you know?” Hopefully loud enough for her to hear.

Max laughed. “Because you always look like shit. Unlike Steve who always looks good.”

Lucas gasped. “Hey!”

Max and El giggled as Erica rolled her eyes.

“Steve...” Erica whined. “Lucas and Max are being gross again.”

El shook her head. “I think they’re cute.”

Steve smiled at Erica. “Eh...I’m with El on this one. Sorry, kiddo. Maybe you’ll understand when you’re older.”

Erica sighed dramatically. “That’s what everyone says!”

Eddie grinned at her. “Well I think it’s gross too.”

Every head snapped his direction.

“All kissing that is between other people is gross,” he rasped with a wink. “It’s only cute when it’s me and my boyfriend.”

Steve blushed and looked away but every eye was still on Eddie.

“Steve’s cute all the time,” El said.

Lucas, Erica, and Max all turned to her in shock.

“Oops,” El murmured. “Dad and Joyce said it’s not nice to out someone without their permission. I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve blushed. “It’s okay, you’ll get there. It’s just that a lot people are against people of the same gender being a couple. So it could be dangerous, okay?”

El cocked her head to the side. “I understand now. Thank you.”

“So you’re the one with super powers,” Eddie whispered. “Thanks for the assist down there.”

El smiled brightly. “Me and Uncle Wayne make a great team!”

Eddie mouthed ‘Uncle?’ to Steve who just grinned.

“It was sooo boring,” Erica complained. “There was no ‘Omen’ level shit or anything cool. Just El with her eyes closed and Mrs Henderson standing by with a hose and a kiddie pool.”

Steve sighed. “Well I, for one, am grateful nothing exciting happened here at the hospital during that fight.”

Lucas hugged his little sister. “Me, too.”

Erica rolled her eyes but snuggled against him anyway.

There was a knock on the door.

“All right,” Steve said. “Times up for today. He just wanted to see everyone and make sure everyone was okay. You guys can come visit him all you want next week, give his voice a chance to recover, okay?”

They nodded and quietly shuffled out.

“Come on,” Steve said. “I’ll massage your hand while you lie down.”

Eddie laid down and held out his hand.

“I think it was too soon for all this,” Steve murmured as began to kneed the palm of Eddie’s hand. “But I wasn’t going to say no. Not when everyone mourned you and you being so anxious about them. Mentally it was mutually beneficial. But I know it took a lot out of you physically. Your voice, your hand. I worry that you over did it.”

Eddie smiled gently and let his body slow drift off to sleep.

Steve smoothed the hair out Eddie’s face. “You beautiful thing. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Part 13

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