#part 4 is almost done its like maybe twice the length the other parts have been?

[princessraptor]

So with all the siatica pain and real life being complicated in some regards I decided to stop trying to push myself to update twice a week. Like sure it was nice when I could, but it makes me feel a lot less pressured and I guess it's working since I'm now working on chapter 93 (Jon is Never to be Allowed to do Anything without Adult Supervision Ever Again, yes I am proud of the title) and just feel more chill.

Which is good cause whew boy is chapter 92 something. Gonna need a lot of content warnings for that bad boy. Took a couple days to get through writing the panic attack scene, and a lot of laying in my bed thinking back to my unmedicated days and going "bitch you lived like this???"

At least the chapter before it is fun. For me if no one else, cause I get to use one of my OCs that I love and is A Mess. My bestie who looks over my stories to make sure they make sense also got a kick out of seeing him. As a rule i dont like having OCs being a major part of my stories, but I feel statement givers (which is sorta what that was?) are an exception. It's weird, I don't really mind it in other stories I've read, but I always worry people won't like any OCs I make so I just keep them away from stories i post on AO3

But overall I'm really happy with chapter 91, and I think 92 is good too though I havent given it a read over (and its a bit of a monster compaired to normal chapter length).

I'm also alternating between working on that and chapter 4/5 of Statement Addiction. IDK why I always end up working on two chapters of that one at the same time, maybe the diffrent format between chapters? Though I am almost done with chapter 4, just need to add another nightmare. I'm trying to decide if I should wait till its done to start posting, that was nice with The Whole Beholding Thing. At the very least maybe I should wait till I'm halfway through before adding more?

And I've been sorta working on the Elias POV Cattastrophy one. Slowly.

[twicecorner]

On Bubble, Jihyo said that she'd like to visit ONCE's homes over food and spend the night. Say it with me now: The Fic Writes Itself. -SenhorToque

YUP YOU ALREADY KNOW THE VIBES👀👀 THE FIC DOES IN FACT WRITE ITSELF

its almost like she knows😵‍💫maybe she be wanting it too👀

Incoming Call from Unknown Number

“Hi! This is Park Jihyo from Twice! Thank you for adding your application to my Jihyo x ONCE world tour! I looked over each application thoroughly and yours is perfect for my trip! You’ll be accompanying me on the last leg of my trip based on your current location. You will be my travel buddy, tour guide, and house mate for the last 2 weeks of my trip. I hope you’re ready! Transportation, housing, and meals will be fully paid in advance, so you don’t have to worry about any of that! I’m looking forward to meeting you and getting to know you^^ -Jihyo”

-Time Skip-

It’s been the best 2 weeks of your life. You and Jihyo clicked immediately. You were nearly shaking as you stood at the airport holding up a sign with her name on it. When she walked out of the gate you almost lost your breath. 

“Hi!” The two of you excitedly introduced yourselves to one another and got acquainted before heading back to your apartment. 

Jihyo was one of the best people in the world to travel with. She loved being outdoors and discovering new places and things to do in each respective place. She was hesitant at first but opened up to trying so many new foods. She loved a good night out, experiencing the local nightlife and contrasting it to the bustling daytime. She was also a great housemate. Even only after 2 weeks of living together, she got the hang of how you lived. She helped with laundry, occasional cooking, cleaning. Jihyo was just all-around great to be around. 

Somewhere during the weekend between the 2 weeks, something had changed. The two of you seemed very comfortable around each other, everything was so easy and simple. Everything moved smoothly and you got along really well. You didn’t know if she was like this with the rest of her travel buddies she’d found, but she also mentioned that you were the only male one she decided to take on. You wanted to ask why but decided best to just go with the flow and not make anything weird between you. You didn’t know what would happen after the two weeks if you’d stay in contact with her if she’d even remember you if you got free tickets to the next Twice concert, but for the time being, you couldn’t care less. You had Park Jihyo walking around your apartment in nothing but a blueish pullover and short shorts, her hair in a messy bun, just woken up, getting ready to start the day. 

Jihyo comes into the kitchen where you’re making a fresh pot of coffee and raises her arms above her head, yawning. “Ahhh I’m drained after yesterday’s hike, we were in the sun for so long! Let’s take it easy today.” She smiled and walked over to you, pulling a mug from the cupboard. At that moment, seeing her in the morning sunlight, the revenants of sleep slowly wearing off of her, you knew you wanted more than just 2 weeks with her. She looked at you with big eyes as you poured her cup of coffee. 

“I was thinking the same thing. Why don’t we have some coffee, go for a little walk then spend the rest of the day inside!” You suggest handing her the mug.

“That sounds perfect!” She flashed a gummy smile and went to sip her coffee by the window.

-Time Skip- 

You had gone out to the park for a walk in the morning then spent the day watching various YouTube videos, shows, and movies on the couch with Jihyo. At one point you decided to watch a scary movie and she instinctively got closer to you, practically jumping into your arms at each jump scare. You eased your arm around her shoulder to hold her close when you yourself felt tense at a heated part in the movie. You stayed in that position with her until the movie ended. The night ended with one of Jihyo’s favorite movies, Thor, where you busted out laughing at her impression of Thor throwing his hammer. She stood there with a wooden spoon in hand pretending to whip it around and throwing it on the couch, putting her hand out expecting it to return - of course, you picked up the spoon and brought it magically back to her hand. The two of you crashed onto the couch laughing. 

It was starting to get late so you asked Jihyo to order some food while you went to take a quick shower. “I’ll get cleaned up then we can eat and watch some more! Order whatever you want, surprise me!” 

“Okay!” Jihyo held up a thumbs up and made a determined-looking face. 

You showered and wrapped the towel around your lower half before walking back to your room to get dressed. Upon arriving at your room you realize you left your phone in the bathroom and head back to get it. You open the door surprised to see Jihyo fixing her hair in the mirror. 

“Oh fuck! You scared me…” You say, your towel almost dropping as you practically jumped. 

“Ah sorry, I thought you were done” Jihyo giggles

“It’s okay haha I just forgot my phone.” The two of you were now in the close space of the bathroom and the hallway. You notice Jihyo scan you up and down, the first time she’s seen you shirtless, basically naked in only a towel for that matter. You step closer to her as she’s in the doorway before reaching around her small body to grab your phone on the counter, she steps to the side to allow you easier access. Now the two of you are face to face in the doorway, your backs to each side of the door frames. No words are shared as you feel the tension rise between you. Instinctively, you move your hand up to her face to brush some of her stray hairs behind her ear. The close distance allows you to practically be at a face-to-face level. To your surprise when your hand brushes against her face, she seems to lean her head into it. You stare into her eyes before taking the leap of a lifetime. You move your hand back down across her cheek to caress her face before pulling her slowly in for a kiss. She reciprocates and your heart does a backflip. Her lips touch yours and they fit perfectly together, the kiss quickly turns passionate as you pull her closer to you with your other hand on her hip. She reaches up to wrap her arms around your neck pulling you into her. You back up against the door frame and her body presses against yours. Your hands take their own path and slip under her pullover to grip her small waist. You lick her bottom lip, begging for permission to taste more of her. She obliges and opens her mouth, now your tongues are dancing together. She bites your bottom lip and pulls it out, looking up into your eyes - hers are now filled with lust and passion. She pulls away for a moment, kissing your jaw up to your ear. 

“I need you.” She whispers into your ear before biting your lobe. You grip her hips harder and lift her up. Her legs wrap around you and you feel your shaft beginning to harden under your thin towel. Your left hand holds her ass while the right drags up under her sweater along her naked back and gripping at the back of her neck. You continue the heated makeout session and bring her to your bedroom. Tonight, Jihyo was not staying in the guest bedroom... and little did you know that after that night, she would never be sleeping in the guest bedroom again. Jihyo could have stayed with any other person in this world, but she decided to stay with you, in your apartment, and now in your arms. There has been an undeniable tension between the two of you and now was the time to let it out.

You toss her onto the bed and she scoots up to rest against the headboard. Surprisingly, your towel has held up this whole time. You crawl up in front of Jihyo and reach out to pull at the bottom of her sweater, she gets the hint and pulls it off then you move to help her out of her shorts. You’re suddenly caught in a daze, staring at Park Jihyo sitting on your bed naked. You take in all her beauty, hypnotized kneeling before her. She snaps a finger at you and raises an eyebrow while looking at your towel. 

“Oh right.” You nervously laugh and pull it off. Jihyo’s eyes widen as she takes your body in as well. 

“Looks like I made a good choice with you.” She smirks while tapping her chin. “Don’t just sit there, come here and kiss me”

You lunge forward, one hand on her jaw and the other holding you up on the headboard. You kiss her passionately and she snakes a hand down to lazily stroke your length. She takes her thumb and rubs your precum from your tip around it. 

“Fuck” you moan at her heavenly touch. “I wanna taste you.”

You switch positions so now you’re laying on your bed and you motion for Jihyo to take her place. You lick your lips as Jihyo kneels above you straddling your face. The sight of her moist folds entices you like a 4-course meal and your mouth waters. She lowers herself down and you stick your tongue flat out. Jihyo starts furiously riding your face with a fistful of your hair in one hand and the other digging into the headboard. She moves her hips back and forth and in a circle, your tongue slipping through her folds. Soon you find your tongue inside of her and she loses control, her clit brushing against your nose and her juices flowing down your chin and jaw. Her moans are like music to your ears, urging you to keep pleasuring her. Your hands grab at her ass aiding her maneuver over your face. Your forgotten cock strains against your stomach and Jihyo looks back to notice it. She hastily turns around and bends down over your body to take your length into her mouth. You moan into her folds at the new pleasure and angle. From here you can easily dip your tongue in and out of her hole while also teasing her back entrance with your finger. Your tongue switches between fucking her and circling her clit. Jihyo bobs her head up and down and moans around your cock sending jolts of pleasure up your spine. Soon, you’re bucking your hips and the tip of your length is hitting the back of her throat. You continue sucking and licking at her dripping pussy and slide a finger into her ass. At this, she pulls off your cock for a minute to sit up and moan loudly

“Oh fuck yes that feels so fucking gooood”

Before continuing her assault on your cock. She massages your balls with one hand while swirling her tongue around the tip and bobbing her head up and down. You piston your finger in and out of her ass at the same rate you tongue fuck her. The pleasure is too much for her and you start to feel her pussy walls pulsate on your tongue. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum soon if you keep doing that”

“That’s the goal isn’t it baby?”

You piston your finger faster and suck on her clit. Jihyo counters by sucking harder on your cock before taking it to the final level. She slightly adjusts her body to slide your cock between her tits. 

“Holy shit Jihyo your tits feel so fucking good”

The newfound pleasure is too much for you and you can feel your stomach start to knot. You take your fingers out of her ass and switch it up too. Now your fingers plunge into her pussy and your tongue takers their place on her asshole. Jihyo fucks you with her tits while licking the tip every time they come above her mounds. She yells out in pleasure when you curl your fingers and find her spot while your tongue plunges into her asshole. 

“Shit I’m gonna cum soon!” 

“Me too Jihyo” 

“Mmm yeah cum all over my big tits, empty your balls all over me. Let me cum all over your pretty face”

You both increase the speed of your jobs and soon it’s too much to handle. The pleasure from the sex mixed with the fact that this wasn’t a dream is too much. You buck your hips into Jihyo’s tits and your cock pulsates while spurting ropes of thick cum onto them and into her mouth. The sight and taste of your cum sets Jihyo off and her pussy clenches around your fingers and her juices leak all over you while she quivers and moans on top of you, her hips bucking back into you. It takes a while for you both to come down from your intense orgasms. Jihyo slowly rocks back and forth as you lap up her sweet nectar and you slow your hips in and out of her tits. She finishes cleaning off your cum from her mounds and rolls off and laying next to you.

Both of your chests heaving up and down as you take in everything that just happened. You look at each other not knowing what to say. Finally, Jihyo pipes up.

“Well.. I definitely didn’t have that on my itinerary for this trip” She giggles and smiles up at you

“You’re beautiful when you smile” You reply, partially still in a post-orgasm haze. Jihyo snuggles into your chest and you wrap your arms around her small body before you both easily fall asleep.

[leonmckennedy]

hello again! another part of a fill for this [kinkmeme prompt] !! i’m a slow updater apparently lol?

suggested by @likeappletrees! tagging @kunfetti who wanted the updates! (lemme know if you want to be tagged for updates i suppose? for any fic not just this one)

summary: ignis and prompto go on a cute date adventure to take some pictures! ignis’ problem is just getting worse 

parts: [one] [two] three (here!)

ao3 mirror tba soonish probably

To Ignis’ complete unsurprise, the animals Prompto wanted to take photos of weren’t the docile type. He expected as much the further they traveled from camp, away from the marshy grazing fields of the peaceful Garula and onto wider grasslands. Originally Ignis anticipated their trek to take but a few minutes, but they didn’t reach their destination until they were nearly an hour out.

He almost didn’t think they’d find anything until they turned a bush and saw, across the field, a grazing herd of long-necked beasts. Ones that typically grow several feet taller than the average human and have wickedly sharp horns perfect for charging at their enemies.

Upon arrival Prompto immediately goes about finding himself a perch, behind a tree and partially obscured by the underbrush. Ignis follows, refusing to look away under the likely possibility of one the creatures spoting them. They’re doing nothing but simply grazing at the moment, lazily eating the plentiful plant life around them. But Ignis knows enough about their habits to keep his guard up, because a group of startled beasts make for one hell of a stampede.

“A herd of Arba,” Ignis says, barely a whisper, to the excited body beside him. “You have quite a way of choosing your subjects.”

Prompto laughs sheepishly. “Yeah, well.” He finishes fiddling with his camera, placing it down on the grass in front of him. “I wanted to get some nature shots, you know? We hear about them passing through these fields a lot but I never get to take any pictures.”

And that’s definitely because they’re usually passing through areas with the intention of avoiding the giant, roaming beasts.

“Suppose there’s a reason we don’t take many leisure strolls through the woods looking for monsters.”

“I think you just don’t get art.”

The response is such a strange mixture of baffling and amusing that Ignis can’t help but chuckle. Quietly. Because nothing is amusing enough to risk setting the beasts in front of them off. Granted, they are a healthy distance away, where their shapes are hopefully hidden well by the thick Duscaen plant growth.

“Perhaps I should leave the creativity to you.”

Prompto snickers at little at that, letting the sound trail away as he picks his camera up again. He checks over the settings once again, fiddliing and fiddling until he’s properly satisfied and lays down, bracing himself against the mossy ground. Ignis drops down a little himself, getting into a more comfortable position but still allowing himself freedom of movement, in case he needs to jump up at a moment’s notice. After all, that’s mainly what he’s here for: to watch out for Prompto in case something goes bad.

Ignis doesn’t particularly think Prompto even needs it; he’s proved himself plenty capable in the past week, with the way he improves with every fight. Of course, taking down a giant herd a beasts isn’t a feat to be performed by a single person, but the point of this isn’t to fight. It’s to stay hidden, maybe run like hell when finished. Prompto’s a pretty good sprinter.

Regardless, Ignis settles himself in for the long haul. He keeps his attention on the Arba across from them for several minutes, eyeing them for any sort of sudden movements or signs that they’ve been found. After those few minutes, however, his eyes drift over to Prompto and he’s honestly proud of himself for holding out this long.

The blond is intensely focused, face nearly glued to the viewfinder of his precious camera. He’s not simply taking lots of shots, like Ignis had expected. He’s biding his time, waiting for the creatures to shift into specific positions, or waiting for the right lighting or something else that Ignis doesn’t particularly understand. He does like the creative arts, but he’s not much on photography. But he can admire the effort his friend is putting in.

He can also admire how good Prompto looks, focused like that. One can tell that he’s truly in his element– his profile is at once strict and open, from the furrow of his brow as he squints his eyes, to the little bit of pink tongue that sticks out by way of his intense concentration. His finger hovers over the shutter with a light pressure, only pressing down when he’s certain he has a shot he’s proud of.

In that little mental cabinet of traits Ignis has been compiling about Prompto, he’s added several things. Competent. Daring. Attractive. And as he watches the man fumble around his camera to change filters with a sort of finesse that’s just unfailingly him Ignis adds another trait. 

Cute.

“…..Ignis?”

Ignis blinks and suddenly Prompto is looking at him, frowning in that concerned way of his.

“Yes?”

“You okay? Kinda zoning out there, buddy.”

Zoning out? He can’t recall doing anything of the sort, but that’s the thing. He can’t recall anything of the last few moments, really, outside of Prompto’s studious visage, burned into his memory. His sun-warmed cheeks, soft hair, pretty eyes–

“Ignis…? Ignis!”

Oops. Once again.

“Yes, yes, I heard you the first time. I’m fine, Prompto.”

Prompto levels him with a strange look, something part concern and part… something Ignis can’t gauge. “Um… did you wanna head back? I’m pretty much done now…“

Guilt prickles at the back of Ignis’ mind. How long had he been out it, for Prompto to be done already? He clears his throat. “If you wish.”

Prompto gives a small smile, picking himself up from the ground. “Good. Let’s get out of here before–”

A rustling in the bushes around them interrupts the calm air, causing the two of them to whirl around in alarm. From his peripheral Ignis can see the herd of Arba in the field beyond all snap to attention, long heads pointed at a spot beyond them, into the thick of trees. Next to him Prompto scrambles to his feet, putting away his camera as quickly and quietly as he possibly can. Ignis settles into a crouch, fingers itching at his side.

Out of the trees there’s a loud series of growls, and not seconds later they jump out– a large pack of Voretooths – snarling and rushing for the Arba. They’re not as big as the Arba but with their sharp claws and large jaws they’re able to get the jump on the other animals quite quickly. Within mere moments the relatively peaceful scene they were just privy to becomes a clash of jaws and claws and painful screeching.

Prompto makes a sound crossing between hurt and surprised, so Ignis grabs his shoulder, starting to pull him away from the scene. He whispers carefully, “we best move now, before we’re noticed.”

Barely nodding, the man follows him. They begin to make their way back, quickly but covertly navigating the thick grasslands they traveled through before. A few moments and it even seems like it works, like they’d managed to avoid being swept up into battle. But fate has it’s way of making things as difficult as possible, as Ignis has come to realize.

It’s the only explanation for the three Voretooth, stragglers from their pack, blocking their exit. Either fate has a ridiculous sense of humor, or Ignis has managed to accumulate some terrible karma somewhere down the line.

“No choice then,” Ignis says, summoning his polearm and holding it tightly in his hands. “Looks like we’re in for some impromptu training today as well.”

“Fine by me!” Prompto says in that cute little way of his, falling into step behind Ignis with his pistol already poised.

Yeah. Fate is quite the conniving fiend. 

[just-a-fangirl13]

MacGyver fanfic

So this is my attempt at a MacGyver fanfic based on the spoiler we got from the MacGyver writers about Mac and Riley getting unexpectedly linked in season 5. (No this does not have anything to do with handcuffs this is just something I would like to see play out.😂)

I know it's kinda long but I hope you like it anyways.

I WOULD RECOMMEND LISTENING TO ARMOUR BY LANDON AUSTIN in the background for added effect...(I am weird I know😂)

(P.S. please ignore any typos...)

spoilers for. season 1-4.

*this takes place a six months after Mac and Desi have broken up. Bozer and Mac are spending time with each other playing video games at Mac’s flat after a long mission. They hadnt got a call from Matty about a new one just yet. So they were making the most of it after ages.*

“So Mac when are you getting back to dating?” Bozer asked. He was happy that Mac was finally doing better emotionally but he was worried Mac was going to spend the rest of his life building carbon scrubbers and car engines out of blenders, alone. He knew Riley and Mac would be perfect together but saying anything upfront would just end with Mac closing up like a clam shell and not dealing with his feelings. He knew better than to try and get involved.

He did have a plan though. He was going to convince Mac to try out this new dating app called Link’d. It was basically like every other dating app only difference..? It narrowed matches down by people you might have crossed paths with and you also have no idea who your date is until you get to a restaurant the app picked for you. The app reduced any possibility of being stood up or judged because you had no idea what the other person looked like and so no one ever lied. Bozer had already told Riley to try it out but he wasn’t sure if she would.

Bozer had hoped that maybe Mac and Riley would see each other going on dates and the fear of losing the other might kick in and maybe, just maybe they would deal with their feelings.

“Bozer come on, I am not ready yet besides I thought we talked about this. It’s only been a few months since Desi and I broke up.” said Mac. 

“A few? Mac, its been six months and even Desi has moved on. All I’m saying is go on a date or two. You deserve to be happy too you know. Its time to get all that weight off your shoulders and live a little man.”

“Yeah I know.” Mac seemed to be considering the idea. A date sounded like fun and he could use a distraction from everything going on at Phoenix. 

“Fine, then show me your phone.” said Bozer putting his hand out. Mac raised his eyebrow. “Why do you need it? I know I’ve broken a lot of your phones, is this your version of payback?", said Mac laughing nervously, "You'll won't hold my phone hostage until I agree will you?"

Bozer laughed, Mac was really never going to change. He cautiously handed over the phone and Bozer got to setting up Mac’s profile while Mac tried to get a look at what Bozer was doing secretly worried he was going to put him in some ridiculous situation.

When Bozer was done he handed the phone back to Mac.

“There you go. I installed a dating app called Link’d that will set you up on a blind date. Just hit that button and the algorithm will find you your perfect match.” Bozer left out the part where Riley might also use the app. But then again the possibility of them getting Link’d was slim since LA itself had about a few hundred thousand other users.

“A blind date?” Mac was confused. “Boze I dont know if this is such a good idea.” Bozer could tell every worst case scenario was going through Mac’s head right now.

“I haven't hit the button yet. Think about it and press it whenever you want. No pressure Mac. Whoever you end up with will be lucky to know you.”

“Thanks Boze. Ill think about it. Now can we get back to the game so I can kick your ass again?” said Mac with a smile on his face. He really would think about it. After all a blind date meant no pressure right?

*A few days later*

Riley had decided to use the app after all. It was just a date right? It didn't have to mean anything. She wouldn't even have to call the person back if it was a disaster.

Riley’s phone had pinged with an alert last night. She had got a match and had it yes without thinking twice. She was a bit nervous about going on a date with some random guy but Bozer had a lot of faith in the app. She only knew the guy would have a white rose with him so she could identify him. nothing else

She was very tempted to hack into the apps mainframe and find out who the guy was but she remembered her promise to Bozer. No hacking. 

She had looked up the restaurant however. It was a nice romantic place in the heart of the city. Yes she could enjoy herself. No worrying about Mac or Phoenix or Codex or anything else.

She could do this. She could go on this one date, no strings attached and maybe just maybe she would be able to forget about her feelings for Mac for a night.

She decided to wear the new black knee-length dress she had bought a few weeks ago, but hadn't had the chance to wear yet. It felt good to dress up for a change. She could totally do this. After all what could even go wrong. No one at Phoenix knew about this date and she would fill Bozer and Desi in later if it went well.

********

Meanwhile, Mac was at the restaurant at a corner table. It was a nice cozy booth that meant they were away from the hustle and bustle of the 3 star restaurant. He had to admit the app was pretty cool. Not only did it pick a restaurant but it had pre booked a table too. It did help alleviate the stress of picking a place. 

Mac still fidgeted though:- with the candle in the center of the table, the tablecloth, his suit jacket and even the white rose he had to carry so his date would recognise him. He checked the time for the 10th time in the last five minutes. He was always a little late so he didn't want to take any chances and had ended up 10 minutes early instead.

********

Riley’s cab pulled up at the restaurant. She was walking past the huge front window in a hurry. She was just on time.

She walked into the restaurant and gave her name to the host. As she was being led to her table and praying she wasn’t late, her phone started ringing. It was Bozer. Filled with guilt she put her phone on silent. Stupid button wouldn't work and she fidgeted with it while walking. She promised herself she would fill Bozer in once the date was over.

“Riles?” 

Riley looked up from her phone at the sound of Mac’s voice. Was she hearing things now? But nope there he was, with a white rose, sitting at the table where the host had pulled up a chair intended for her.

“Mac? What are you doing here?”

Mac looked handsome as always. He had on a dark blue jacket, with his hair in his usual short and mess style. He had a look that bordered on confusion and amusement.

Surely there was some mistake. Maybe it was a joke. Or maybe there was an emergency mission and Mac was here to pick her up for the mission. That had to be it. Right?

“I was supposed to be here on a date with a girl I have never met before. You?” Mac smiled. Riley’s stomach flipped. Things had just got so much more complicated.

*****

Riley looked stunning. Mac knew that of course but she managed to catch him by surprise all the same.

She was just as surprised as him but now the doubt was creeping in. What if Riley was disappointed that it was him? What if she was really excited to meet someone new and him being here would ruin her night?

Riley had seemed a bit distant lately maybe this was the universes way of giving them a chance to figure things out after all.

“Well I came here thinking i was on blind date too. The Universe has a weird sense of humour." Riley broke into a smile and sat down. Mac was relieved and even more nervous at the same time. 

What was wrong with him? It was just Riles. They would have a nice meal, figure things out and then laugh about this story later right?

Riley picked up the menu and a few seconds of complete silence ticked by. Mac couldn’t handle it and broke the silence.

“So” he said. “We should probably talk right?”

*****

“Something on your mind?” asked Riley. A million thoughts ran through her head as she put down the menu. This was the part she wasn't looking forward to. She had hoped he wouldnt bring it up until later in the night but it was the elephant in the room. What was she thinking sitting down, pretending everything was fine?

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” said Mac. “You know about how you’ve been avoiding me ever since we almost died in that Codex compound from the missile. Then you moved out suddenly without much of a reason. If it was the drilling sounds I would have stopped you know.”

“It wasn't the drilling sounds or anything you did Mac. I just moved out to give you and Desi the space you deserved.” said Riley.

Her thoughts ran back to the moment he held her hand. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to bring that up right now. The truth was Riley had been distancing herself from Mac. 

Desi was her friend and she was never going to tell Mac about her feelings. It would ruin everything. Even after he and Desi broke up, Riley knew that she and Mac would never happen. She wouldn't be selfish and risk their friendship.

“Come on Riles. You’re my best friend. Whatever is going on then, you can tell me. I know its probably my fault but I need you to talk to me so I can fix it.” 

How could she tell him? There would just be a cloak of awkwardness between them that would never go away and it wouldnt be something he could fix. She had to end this. Now.

“I have to go. I'm not feeling too great. I'm sorry Mac.”, said Riley getting up from her chair. Saying those words broke her heart but she had to put space between her and Mac, otherwise he would know. He would see right through the lies.

“Riles wait!”

Stupid heels she thought and walked out the door of the restaurant as fast as she could only to find it had begun raining. Oh great. This night could not be a bigger train wreck.

She turned around to find Mac right behind her at the door. A sad expression on his face. She prayed he would forgive her for this eventually.

“At least let me give you a ride home. You dont have to say anything if you dont want to.”

Riley considered her options. She really didnt want to. But she was not going to get a cab on a Friday night in this rain. She silently nodded and followed Mac to his truck.

******

Mac was wracking his brains to figure what he could have possibly done to upset Riley this much. They had almost been hit by the Reaper drone and then almost burnt alive in that warehouse, the guilt for putting Riley through that had been eating at him ever since.

He was thinking of all the things he had done in the past month, while Riley sat silently peering out the window not even looking at him. 

He could always fix things right? That was what he did best. What was the use of all his skills if he couldn’t even fix things with Riles.

The woman who knew him better then he knew himself. She had trusted him even when everyone thought he was an enemy of the state. Even when he thought he had lost himself. She was always there. He told her things he had never told anyone before. 

Suddenly his mind went back to the moment he held her hand in that Codex compound. He had thought about that many times. Why had he done it? He was sure he was going to die and he had just put Riley at risk too. He wanted her to know he was sorry right? What other reason could there have been?

Before he knew it he had pulled up at Riley's apartment entrance. 

Riley mumbled, “Thanks for the ride Mac. I'm sorry I ruined your night”, she barely met his eye as she open the door and stepped out. 

Suddenly it struck him.

He didn't want to lose Riley. The thought hit him so suddenly it almost sucked the air right out of him. How had he not realised sooner?

It was Riles. It had always been her.

He got out the car in the pouring rain,“Riles wait.” he pleaded, “I'm so sorry.”

Riley turned around to face him.

“You dont have anything to be sorry about Mac. This isn't your fault. I just have a lot on my mind right now.” she said. 

“I do Riles. I have so much to be sorry for.” said Mac walking around the car and towards her. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to see what was right in front of me. I’m sorry i didnt realise sooner. I thought back to that day on the truck. The moment I held your hand, I realise it now, it was the first time I wasn't afraid of dying alone. I never let myself think about it. But the truth is Riles, I dont want to lose you.”

Riley had tears streaming down her face. 

Oh no. He had made a mistake hadn't he. He had completely misread the situation. Riley had never felt that way at all. He had just made things worse and now they would never be able to go back to the way things were. 

But deep down he didn't regret telling her. He had these feelings for so long. The idea of losing her had brought everything back to the surface.

“Riles, please say something.”

All these thoughts were running through his head when suddenly, Riley kissed him. He was taken aback for a second but he kissed her back. He could have stayed there in the rain forever. Just him and Riley. She wrapped her arms around him.

“I am so sorry Mac. You were right.. The truth is I was avoiding you. I thought if I distanced myself I would be able to move on and I would never have to risk our friendship. You’re my best friend too Mac and I just...” she was crying again.

Mac took her face in his hands tenderly and wiped the tears away. “Hey, hey its okay. I think we can both agree for two very smart people we can be pretty dumb”

Riley smiled. It made Mac’s heart do sommersalts.

They just stood there in the rain holding each other.

“So are we doing this then?” asked Riley breaking their embrace.

"I mean I guess your bed is big enough" said Mac with a mischievous grin. Riley smacked him, laughing and rolling her eyes.

"Not that. I meant us, dating and all that." She was blushing now.

“if you want to give this a shot? 100% Should we tell everyone though?” asked Mac. He wasn’t sure how everyone would react. A part of him wanted to just keep this between him and Riley.

“I do want to give us a shot. Maybe we should keep this to ourselves for a bit? Phoenix and relationships never seem to mix too well.” said Riley.

Mac nodded and smiled,”Yeah I like the sound of that. And if they get suspicious I guess we’ll just..”

“Improvise.” said Riley, completing Mac’s sentence. They laughed and kissed, standing there in the rain for what felt like forever.

[themangolorian]

Both Hunter and Prey (Pt. 5)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Six | Epilogue

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: A game of cat and mouse between you and the Mandalorian.

A/N: Inspired by this post. Part 5 of 7 (extended now). Hope this hasn’t been done. Wanted some fluff/some smut between Mandalorian and someone who won’t leave him alone and who he can’t seem to leave alone.

Warnings: Smut, language, sex (explicit).

You awoke feeling weak and shaky. Your eyes were sore and red rimmed. You untangled your limbs and searched for the button on the inner panel that would let you out. You needed fresh air and you needed to stretch your legs. The door swooshed down, loud in the dead of the quiet in the ship.

Outside, night had fallen and only dim lights on the surrounding panels in the hull were lit. You outstretched your legs painfully, some of your limbs had gone numb. Carefully you lowered yourself out of the bunk but when you straightened, one gloved hand was waiting to take yours.

You gazed up at his dark visor with red eyes you wish he’d never seen this way. It wasn’t vanity; you just didn’t need anyone seeing your vulnerabilities. But...right now...if you had to choose - better that it be him.

You took his hand and straightened up, stretching your weak limbs. He caught you when you faltered, but he didn’t smother you. Most importantly, he didn’t speak. He was getting better and better at reading what you did and didn’t need.

Later, you both sat on the ramp overlooking the dark, windy desert. His cloak was once again draped over your shoulders to protect you from the cold of the desert.

You gazed blankly up at the bright stars, imagining one of them to be one of the planets you’d been on with your mother. Maybe Gavin-4. The forest had been so sweet when you’d walked through it hand-in-hand with her. You’d thought it all a game then; she’d protected you from the worst of everything. Until she couldn’t.

You looked sideways at the Mandalorian. He didn’t stir. You could never see where he was looking but sometimes you liked to think he was looking at you from behind the helmet, even when you couldn’t tell. These thoughts were dangerous, you knew. But so much had changed in so little time, you didn’t know what or how to think anymore.

Suddenly he turned his helmet to look directly at you as if reading your thoughts.

You didn’t turn away. You knew you still looked a mess, but you weren’t sure you cared.

“It was a list of officials in the Empire,” you said, your voice raw. You fought for control of your emotions. If you broke again, if you broke in front of him, you wouldn’t be able to gather yourself together again. “Top secret information.” He tilted his helmet to indicate he was listening; he always knew the right thing to say or do. It gave you confidence. “It’s what she was working on when she- It’s why she-”

A hand found yours in the darkness and held tightly. You took a shaky breath.

“A lot of them...maybe all of them got away with what they did. No one could prove anything. This disc...has all the proof needed to bring them down.”

He squeezed your hand.

You looked away from his blank helmet finally. “I’ve been sitting on this information for years, Mandalorian...I didn’t know...”

He stirred, clearly wanting to contradict you, but how could you when these were facts?

You shook your head before he could speak. “I could have…”

“But you didn’t.”

Not the response you were expecting, but he drew you close to him to take the sting from his words.

“It doesn’t matter. You know now. And now…” He paused, as if mulling over his words, “you can do something about it.”

You gazed up at his visor somewhat in awe. Then you did something you never would have done but for your emotionally vulnerable state and leaned in to embrace him. A true embrace. Your arms went around his broad chest, never mind the impossibly rigid armor. He hesitated at first, from surprise maybe. Then his arms were going around you too.

You reveled in his touch as much as you cursed yourself for succumbing to your weakness for this armored bounty hunter. He was unraveling you in all the worst ways and, worst of all, you didn’t care. At least not right now.

You turned and shifted over until you were nearly straddling his lap, closing the gap between the two of you to nearly nothing. His arms around you tightened pulling you into him. You tilted your head to look directly into his visor; though you could see no part of him, you needed to know you were looking right at him. Instinct took over and your lips found their way to his helmet. His arms trailed up your back to tangle in your hair.

You trailed kisses down the cool metal until you reached the gap between his shoulder and helmet. Then you were placing feather soft kisses to the warm fabric there, just needing to keep the space between him and you to a minimum. Meanwhile, you could feel the Mandalorian’s strong hands rubbing long sensual lines up and down your body, both pulling you further into him and soothing you at the same time.

You could feel him hardening beneath you and moaned as you kissed his chest plate and grinded your hips down into him. You heard the sharp intake of breath from beneath his helmet as his hands came up to your mid-back to hold you in place. You could hear his breathing both quicken and grow shorter as your kisses made their way down his armor plate.

Suddenly in one swift, fluid movement, he was anchoring you securely in his arms and surging to his feet, your knees hooked over his arms. You gasped at the sudden change. He froze.

“Are you alright?” Soft. So soft. He was worried about your back, but you were fully healed now.

You tightened your hold around him and buried your face in his neck, nipping at the fabric over his collarbone in answer. With your ear up to his helmet, you heard his hiss in response clearly. Carrying you this way, he turned and swept into the ship, more clear-headed this time as he closed the ramp behind you using his vambrace. Meanwhile you were nipping along his neck, trying to catch skin from beneath the heavy fabric he wore.

Unlike last time, when he had been pushing you roughly up against his cold ship with his armored body, he leaned over the cot and laid you down gently, at the same time that he removed the clasps keeping his beskar clamped to him. Your fingers were shaking with a nervousness you hadn’t felt before as you tried to help him. You weren’t nervous about the physical act of what you were doing. You were nervous about the tenderness with which the Mandalorian was handling you, tenderness you couldn’t help but return in kind. What with nearly dying and the epiphany of your mother, you couldn’t find it in you to treat him any other way. Not now.

Finally, the last piece of beskar fell to the floor with a clank and you were pulling the Mandalorian by the scruff of his tunic to fall over you. Your mouth found the gap between his shoulder and chin and you sank your lips softly there, searching for the warmth of his skin. With his figure shifting over you, the fabric finally gave and your lips found the smooth heat of his neck. You pressed a kiss to the spot, eliciting a guttural moan from him as he moved sensuously against you.

His hands moved over your body with urgency, his fingers squeezing your breasts before sliding down to lightly brush over your core. Your breath was growing short and your head was getting light. You needed more. More than he’d ever given you before, more than you’d yet given him.

You cried out when his fingers pressed down over your center, short circles of bursting pleasure. It was too much; it was not enough. You needed him inside you, needed to feel more. Your hands went to your own pants, trying to push them off with his weight still on top of you. He paused when he realized what you were doing, then helped you slide them down and off of you. Then you were both fumbling at his belt and the clasp of his pants.

You gasped when you felt him, long, thick and smooth, against your inner thigh. Your fist bunched the fabric of his tunic, trying to keep control as you waited impatiently. But the Mandalorian was in no rush. He brushed your hand aside gently, the hand that had been reaching down to put him inside of you. Then you felt his cool, calloused fingers on your clit and your back arched of its own accord as you saw bright flashes behind your eyelids.

He truly was unraveling you. His fingers languished on your clit before sinking down into your wet warmth. You cried out and buried your face into the crook of his neck. He froze and groaned when you sank your teeth into the exposed skin of his neck. But then his fingers started a delicious, delirious rhythm. You were coming undone. But this was not how you wanted to-

“Wait.” You begged, pushing at his wrist between him and your mound. He pumped once, twice more then took his fingers out with a slick sound. You peeked down to see him rubbing your wetness onto the tip of his cock and your eyes rolled back in your head. Then he was shifting his weight fully over you again, and you felt the hard, blunt tip of him nudging at your entrance. You wrapped your legs around his middle and let out a hoarse cry as he sunk into you. Finally, finally, finally.

The sound you let out as he buried his length fully within you surprised even you. It was raw and wanting and it echoed in the small space but you couldn’t find it in you to care. He was so big, so filling. You’d never felt so...complete. Your hands surged upwards to wrap around his neck, jostling his helmet. But you didn’t care.

He let out a sharp rasp when you lifted your hips so you could wrap your legs more tightly around him. Then he was moving, pulling back out of you, eliciting a desperate cry from your lips. His elbows, resting on the sleep pad on either side of your head, shifted over so that you were nestled tightly between his arms. He pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in more urgently than before. Your legs around him clenched tighter.

He began a steady, fast rhythm. The sounds your bodies were making...the slap of skin on skin every time he plunged into you...the soft wet noises...the grunts coming from beneath the helmet...were making you feverish.

“Please,” you begged, but you didn’t know what it was you were asking him for.

Still he seemed to know...one arm flew back and knocked your legs away and then he was sitting up, still deep inside of you, and folding your legs back toward your head. This new position allowed him to sink even deeper and your resulting cry was primal. He began to move faster over you until the entire sleep cot was vibrating with your movements. His cock began to hit a spot deep inside of you that left you breathless. The moans and gasps from beneath the helmet reverberated within you. You threw your head back roughly against the pillow, beginning to see stars burst behind your eyelids.

Though his rhythm did not slow, one hand found its way roughly under your head, holding you still, cushioning your neck even as he continued to ram into you. You couldn’t control your own body which began surging upwards to meet his. You felt the waves forming in your core, growing exponentially as he plunged into you over and over. You let out a short, terse scream and buried your head as far into his neck as you could.

Then-

He shifted over you again so that he was entering at a blisteringly sweet angle...his cock thrust against your walls in just the right spot and the waves within you broke. You found yourself losing control of your limbs, going completely taut but still trembling uncontrollably. You cried loudly out into the skin of his neck, biting down in your pleasure.

He let out a sharp groan as your walls clenched and pulsed around him. His arms tightened around you as he gave one last hoarse grunt before he stilled. You could feel his cock twitching within your walls, could feel his warm, wet seed fill you.

Still trembling, you tightened your grip around him. He began to fall toward you but stopped himself with his arms.

“I’ll hurt you.” His voice was hoarse, nearly gone, thinking his full weight on top of you would harm you.

You yanked at him again until he was laying flush against you. You let out a content sigh and his hands wound their way around your back, pulling you further into his neck. Never...never had you felt this...you could not even think of a word for it. Something wet trailed down your face, and you startled, thinking something had fallen from the ceiling.

“Are you-” The Mandalorian pulled far back enough to lift his head but stopped talking when he saw your face. You realized at the same moment as him that the wetness was coming from your eyes. He said nothing but wiped the tears dry and pulled your head back into the crook of his neck and settled down over you again.

More tears came but you only held him to you tighter, as if you could join your bodies in a way that didn’t involve sex. This feeling building within you was going to be the death of you. You fell asleep, a heavy pressure building in your chest that had nothing to do with the Mandalorian’s weight on top of you.

You awoke just before dawn, cradled between the Mandalorian’s arms, at his side now. Your head was resting on his chest just below his helmet, from below which you could hear his soft snoring. Bleary eyed, you stirred, lifting your head from his chest to stare at his visor, more blank now that he wasn’t awake to give any indication as to his thoughts.

This felt wrong. Too good. Too perfect. You were...happy. You hated it. If only because you knew you could lose that feeling at any second; the universe seemed meant to punish you. You couldn’t remain there a moment longer.

You slid out of the Mandalorian’s grip. He stirred but you didn’t think he’d woken up. You let the blanket fall over him before opening the ramp and slipping out into the cold dawning morning.

The ramp closing behind you, you watched as the ugnaught approached his home from the direction of the blurgs’ enclosure, the empty bucket in his hands telling you that he’d been feeding them. He nodded your way; you only stared back, but you took the nod as welcome and followed him through the doorway and into his home.

You didn't know why but you knew there were things that he knew. Maybe about you.

You spotted the droid, powered down in the corner of the hut when you entered.

“Please,” the ugnaught gestured to a chair at his table, a cup of Tarine tea awaiting you, as if he’d known you would seek him out.

You said nothing but sat down and took the cup between your palms for warmth. He sat across from you with his own cup of Tarine.

You broke the silence first; the ugnaught was too knowing by half, but there was something comforting about that. The Mandalorian trusted him. That was enough for you. You briefly explained the contents of the disc without going into detail about you or your mother.

Nothing seemed to surprise the ugnaught. “You already knew,” you murmured, suspicious, your hands itching for the blaster that you’d left on the ship.

He finally met your gaze head on; his own was chiding and you lowered your eyes. “No,” he rasped, “ but I’d surmised much.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Like what?” You raised the cup to your lips and took a short draw.

“Who your mother is. Who you are.”

You were equally surprised and not. From what you’d garnered so far, the ugnaught had been forced into servitude by the Empire at its height. Depending on his position there, he would have been privy to certain knowledge. Those in charge tended to forget about and undermine those in service to them, especially if they didn’t consider them their equals.

“Did you know her?” The words were tight in your mouth, strung high.

“No.” The blunt one-worded response stung, and you struggled not to show it. “I knew of her. The work she accomplished.”

You swallowed, the gesture difficult. “I didn’t know…” You palmed the disc hanging safely around your neck again.

“Don’t you wonder why your mother left the information to you? Do you think she didn’t know you’d carry on her legacy?”

The words hurt because even if your mother had thought you were the right person to finish what she’d started, you hadn’t lived up to it. “But...I’ve done nothing...I’m nobody.”

The ugnaught chuckled, surprising you. “In the grand scheme of things, little one, we are all nobody. And we all matter.”

You blinked at the contradiction.

He smiled knowingly. “Your mother died to retrieve the information you now hold in your palm, yet to the universe at large, who is she? Nobody.” You flinched, but he wasn’t done. “Yet, she made you and she raised you. The thievery you think so little of, that makes you think so little of yourself…what has it accomplished?”

You felt ashamed now. Truly. What? Petty thievery meant to harm the Imperials one by one, yet you’d accomplished nothing.

But the ugnaught continued, not giving you a chance to respond, though you didn’t know what to say. “The rotoblade you took from Corporal Santtion. He spent more time searching for you out of a need to nurse his ego than it warranted when he could have easily replaced the blade. Time he could have spent imprisoning and torturing more. Surely at least a handful of innocents escaped his wrath thanks to you.”

You blinked dazedly again. How did he know any of this? How could he know?

He tapped the subspace transceiver beside him. “I may not look like much, nor my surroundings. But I have as much interest as you and the Mandalorian in the downfall of the Imperials.”

You smiled lightly, feeling lost yet somehow found all at the same time.

He listed more things you had taken, small as they were, along with the disruption they had caused to the Imperials and a list of what those thefts had prevented.

Your throat felt tight. “You can’t know it’s all true. That I truly accomplished all that…from…petty theft.”

It blew your mind...that others, those on the same side of the war, knew who you were and what you did. That you hadn’t truly been alone all this time. That your actions, as petty as they’d seemed when done, had actually mattered.

The ugnaught reached over and tapped your head lightly. “You haven’t been listening, little one. One person’s actions, small as they may seem, can result in a far reaching chain of events unforeseen but meaningful. You haven’t brought down the Imperials by your actions alone, but you have impeded them…and now…you hold in your hand the results of your mother’s sacrifice. Greater power than some of those whom the Imperials consider their greatest enemies.”

He tapped the knuckles under which was clenched your mother’s necklace. “Because of your mother, nobody, and because of you, nobody, the Imperials will suffer greatly.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the tears. This ugnaught annoyed you with his ability to tear right through your hard facade and down to your heart. “How do I do that?” You asked sarcastically, willing your emotions away.

The ugnaught smiled warmly, too knowingly, he saw right through your attitude. “You expose the list. You and your Mandalorian take them down one by one.” Your Mandalorian?

“Why would he help me?” Confusion colored your tone. Kuill was wrong. The Mandalorian had greater things at stake. A child to worry about. You were the last thing he had on his mind. Unless he was thinking with his dick.

The Ugnaught stared at you now as if you were stupid and you squirmed under his gaze. Finally, with a sigh, he spoke. “If you refuse to see the real reason for his willingness to help you��” you were going to ignore that and you were going to ignore that hard. “The more Imperials the two of you take down, the safer that Child will be. Your list contains very high ranking members, all likely to have attaining the child high on their list of goals. You must prevent that too.”

You groaned in annoyance. There were so many layers to all of this. And you’d never asked for any of it. Your goal had been to disrupt the Imperials’ lives for the worse. But you’d never been arrogant enough to presume you had the power to truly make a difference, to change things. And more recently, you’d just been trying to get into the Mandalorian’s pants.

“You have everything and everyone you need to accomplish what your mother started. The task itself is up to you. I have spoken.” The Ugnaught said with finality just as a heavy set of footsteps sounded from the doorway alerting you to the Mandalorian’s presence.

It was time to finally go to Lothal, except this time, the ugnaught and the droid would be accompanying you. The question of your next move had never been broached and you had quite intentionally avoided the issue, though your initial thought had been to steal the first ship you saw on Lothal and get to a place of peace alone so you could begin thinking straight again. Later, as you helped prepare to leave, for lack of something better to do, you realized the Mandalorian had heard more than he’d let on that morning.

“What you and Kuill were talking about earlier…”

You grunted as you tried to fit a particular difficult part of the child’s new floating bassinet into the frame as per Kuill’s instructions. “Didn’t realize eavesdropping was a part of the Mandalorian creed.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

He made a noise under the helmet you were 75% sure was a chuckle, 25% sure was a cough. He ignored that otherwise though. “What Kuill said...he was right.”

Frustrated, you tried using your fist against the part that was refusing to cooperate in order to attach it to the frame, but it was no use. Then his hand was stopping yours, taking the part and with one swift, strong movement, fitting it into the frame precisely.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Kriffing show off.” But then he was taking your shoulders in his hands and turning you to face his dumb, blank helmet.

“You’re someone whether you take down even one Imperial or not.”

You jerked your chin out of his palm and swooped under his arm to escape behind him.

“Shows what you know, Mandalorian,” you threw over your shoulder at him with a cheeky grin as you left the hut. “I’m going to take down the whole damn Empire.”

Hours later, you were in hyperspace. You’d watched from the sleep cot as the Mandalorian put the child to sleep, watched him watching the baby fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. Kuill and IG manned the cockpit. Something told you they knew better than to leave the cockpit.

The Mandalorian turned and you were sure your face said everything that your voice didn’t need to. This time the sex was slow, languishing, torturous. He took his time, slow long strokes that undid you one by one. With the ship now inhabited, you both had to keep it down, but neither of you could stop the way your breaths came out ragged and fast.

He began pulling out all the way, leaving you gasping into the palm of his glove. You would arch your back, lifting your hips, to get him to enter you again. But he would push your hips down roughly before thrusting into you again. He did this so many times...your orgasm was building but you couldn’t seem to reach it and your body was burning. You fought back sobs of pleasure when finally, gasping, he sunk into you again and couldn’t seem to pull back out again. He fucked you with short quick thrusts that brought you both to quick orgasms. You panted your orgasm loudly into his neck again.

Both sweaty and weak, you held each other, and for once, you could think of no quick, sarcastic words to battle the feelings threatening to envelope you again. So you stayed quiet and let him hold you.

Later, you sat on the floor in front of the sleep cot between his knees. He was caressing your head, running ungloved fingers absently over the planes of your face, neck and chest. You had never felt anything so exquisite.

But he was distracted, bothered. “Why don’t you ever ask me my name?”

You leaned your head back in his lap and furrowed your brow up at him, and his hands slowed to a stop at your temple. You stared up at his visor, searching. He was expressive, even with the helmet on. His body language was telling, especially to you after the time you’d spent together.

His gloved fingers moved up to trace your brows. “Or ask to see under my helmet?”

You closed your eyes as his fingers traced the lines of your face and thought about your answer, though you knew already what it was.

“For the same reason you never asked me my name?” It was a question, but you knew he understood. “Or that you never asked my story?”

His fingers paused on your forehead where he’d been drawing soothing lines along it. “No,” he stated. “That’s not it.”

Your forehead wrinkled again under the touch of his fingers as you opened one eye to look curiously up at him.

“Why didn’t you ever ask me my name? Or my story?” A question for an answer. You knew he expected nothing less from you.

“At first,” his tone was stunted, faltering. “I didn’t think there was much to know,” he admitted, and you could tell he was ashamed, though it didn’t bother you, so you reached a hand up to clasp and squeeze his fingers reassuringly. He squeezed back. “But,” here he paused again, and his finger went to your lips, tracing them softly. “Then I did start asking.” He prompted your memory. He wasn’t wrong.

You smiled against his finger. “Only once I was drugged, you piece of bantha fodder.” The memory pained you now only a little. He’d gotten so much out of you then, all of it voluntary and only some of it at the prompt of his questions.

He sighed deeply, and intuitively you realized you’d struck a nerve you hadn’t meant to. “I shouldn’t have-” He started.

You shifted between his legs so you were half-turned. “I don’t regret it, Mandalorian.” The words were sharp but heartfelt.

He gazed at you through the visor and brushed his fingers absently along your spine. He said a word so softly in his helmet that you couldn’t tell what it was.

“What?”

“Din.” He breathed. It took you a long moment to process what that meant.

Your heart started beating, too fast for you to handle. You let go of his hand slowly and sat back on your heels, away from him.

He sighed but didn’t try to touch you.

“You shouldn’t be telling me that,” you whispered. “It’s sacred.”

“I know it is.” The Mandalorian responded, as if irritated you were quoting Mandalorian creed at him. He ran a knuckle along your chin then pulled away.

“You don’t ask because you’re scared.” He answered his own question from earlier, angering you immediately. Now you pushed backwards so you were sitting on the floor a few feet from him. “Of opening up to someone. Of losing someone.”

“Don’t tell me about myself as if you know.” You said through clenched teeth.

He froze in place, watching you mutely.

“That’s rich coming from you. You’re like a wall. You hate droids so much but you function like one.” You said the nastiest things you could think to say because his words were sinking beneath the armor you usually kept up to protect yourself.

He flinched but didn’t move towards you. “That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice had gone flat. He was angry with you now, but only just. The worst part was - he was right: you did know it. Long before you’d even realized you felt anything for the Mandalorian beyond lust, he had already been protecting you, treating you tenderly and you hadn’t even deserved it then. You didn’t deserve it now either. You saw the way he interacted with other people and creatures. His armor was deceiving; he made more friends in one interaction with strangers than you had in your entire life.

“I didn’t ask for your name,” you finally huffed, crossing your arms and sitting back so your back was against the cold ship. You had nothing better to say in retaliation and you both knew it.

“But it’s mine to tell you.” He said in a tone of finality. You glared at him.

He stood finally and stalked past you to the ladder. “And I don’t want you to do anything else stupid like take your helmet off either,” you called after him.

He grunted in recognition of your words. You knew he wouldn’t be joining you anytime soon, and you certainly wouldn’t be joining him in the cockpit either.

A soft coo startled you out of your thoughts. The child must have woken at some point during your quiet argument. He was staring at you curiously from his perch in the pod; you hadn’t even heard the bunk door slide open. You turned your head, evading his stare, adamant not to further foster any more personal connections you didn’t need.

You heard the soft bump anyway and hmphed quietly, knowing the child had dropped to the floor. You heard the small pitter patter of his steps as he approached you and now you pretended to sleep. But he knew better and so did you.

When he reached out to grasp your arms, he only succeeded in tickling your side. You tried to hold your breath but ended up letting out a soft giggle. You swatted his tiny hands away from your side gently as you finally turned to face him. His ears perked up and he cooed louder, reaching out to you again, his eyes shining brightly with hope.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine,” you said, as you reached out to scoop him up and rest him in your lap. “But I don’t like you. And I don’t want to know your name either.” The child cooed happily, and it was your turn to sigh. You leaned back against the ship to rest your eyes finally. “If it’s between you and him, I’d rather spend time with you anyway,” you muttered. Absently, without realizing it, as you began to doze off, your fingers slowly caressed the child’s ear.

When you awoke, you were splayed out in the cot, covered fully by the one blanket on board. The child was laid out beside your waist on top of the blanket. That meant the Mandalorian had found you both and relocated you. You blinked your eyes blearily and looked around.

He was sitting on a stool across the way, cleaning his blaster.

You sat up very slowly, careful not to jostle the child. Though he must have noted your movement, the Mandalorian did not turn in your direction nor acknowledge you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your voice was raspy with sleep. Now he paused his movement around the blaster.

“You don’t have to apologize.” His modulated voice was soft. So soft. What he had to understand was that you didn’t deserve his tenderness. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You shook your head. “I just-” You stopped yourself unsure of what you even meant to say. “I need time.” You finished hoarsely.

He looked finally your way, putting the blaster down. As you swept your legs softly from under the blanket, he took the few steps that separated you from him. You rested your head against his middle, and his hands came up to cradle your head and hold you against him softly.

“You won’t lose me.” He said so quietly you almost weren’t sure that’s what he’d said. But you didn’t want to hear it again. Your mother had said the exact same thing. And you didn’t feel like crying. So, instead, you flexed your fingers against him, and he gave a sharp intake of breath, tightening his hold in your hair.

At the same time, you used your mouth to nip softly at the fabric covering his groin. He hissed, bucking his hips once. Then he was pulling you up, careful not to jostle the sleep cot. He put a finger to your lips meant to silence you, but you held it there and took the digit in your mouth while staring at the visor, hoping his eyes were on yours as you sucked his glove.

“Fuck,” you heard whispered, restrained, from beneath the helmet. He pulled you behind him, and you wondered where you could possibly be going considering the cockpit was occupied.

Your eyes widened in surprise when the Mandalorian backed himself up into the bunk, bending his legs to fit. Your surprise did not faze him. He pulled you in after him, shutting the bunk door just as your legs passed through. You were cramped in the small space against him, straddling him. You could feel his erection growing against your waist.

He didn’t wait for you to guess what he wanted. He reached down and undid your pants, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband. You had to lift your hips so he could reach your cunt. You gasped when his fingers found your clit and deftly began rubbing tantalizing circles. Then he was pinching your clit softly between his fingers and you gasped louder now, the top of your head hitting the ceiling of the bunk. But he didn’t stop and you found yourself unable to catch your breath. You caught his hand and yanked it out of your pants.

As you pushed your pants down to your ankles, a task made difficult by your position above him, he was unclasping his own. Your lips formed an o of surprise when he took himself in hand and pumped his fist up and down his cock.

“Fuck,” you breathed. You’d never felt so turned on with so little foreplay. You knocked his hand aside, spit into your hand and spread the spit over his tip.

His turn to groan, his hips reflexively bucking upwards. Then he was gripping your waist tightly, moving you toward him. You had to fold your body awkwardly over his in order to sink down over him, but once you did, you stopped thinking about the cramped space and could only focus on the hiss the Mandalorian was letting out as you impaled yourself on his length. You couldn’t catch your breath and your hands slapped against his chest, so you could slow your descent onto him.

You felt him going deeper than even before, sure he was hitting your cervix, but the feeling of fullness was so intense you didn’t care. You let out a tiny scream when he bucked his hips up into you. His hand flew to your mouth, but he didn’t stop. He bucked his hips up again and you saw stars exploding behind your eyes again. Your head hit the ceiling again, and then he was pulling your torso down, smashing your head against his shoulder. This only provided another different, delicious angle for him to penetrate you.

He stilled your hips from riding him, grabbed your waist and began to thrust up into you. You couldn’t stop the moans that he was eliciting and tried to bury them in the fabric at his throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned from beneath the helmet. He was so much more vocal this time; you liked it. Your pussy clenched tightly around him. “Fuck,” he rasped again.

You clenched tighter around him again and he stilled. “Stop,” he wheezed, his grip on your waist tightening as if he could control your grip around his cock that way. He thrust up again with a gasp and your pussy gripped him tightly again. You smiled wickedly at his visor now.

He tilted his helmet at you, then his hand was pulling you roughly down.

“What-”

Suddenly, he was wrapping both arms vice-like around your back, holding you down flush against him and thrusting hard up into you. You yelped in equal measures pleasure and surprise into his neck. He didn’t let up. You knew the bunk was rattling, metallic bangs echoing across the ship, but you weren’t sure either of you cared.

You couldn’t control your cunt anymore either. He was building you up and breaking you apart again. Your moans into his neck grew louder until he thrust one last time, so hard and fast that you were sure you’d lost your vision briefly. Then you were both coming. Together. You seized up over him, clenching his clothes in your fists as you shook with the power of your orgasm. At the same time, he was frozen, his hips lifted above the bunk, and you could feel his seed beginning to ooze out of you when finally his hips dropped. You were both paralyzed; your body gave short seizure-like movements. You couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

“What the- fuck...Mandalorian” you gasped. “If you…” You stopped to take a shuddering breath. “If you don’t fuck me like that- every time from now on...I’ll…”

But you lost your train of thought. His hips jerked again and your pussy was seizing up around him again even as he softened within you.

“I’ll fuck you every way…” He was out of breath too still. Finally his arms came up and around to hold you to him, though you still could not move. “I’ll fuck you every way you want me to,” he promised, gasping when you clenched around him again at his words.

“Fuck,” you echoed again, your brain still unable to formulate anything more eloquent than that.

You didn’t know how you were going to get through any ensuing mission at all without being able to fuck the Mandalorian at every given moment. Your heart clenched when he pulled you tight to him, his thoughts now on holding you instead of on fucking you.

Kriff, you thought. You were fucked in more way than one. Slowly the Mandalorian was consuming you in every way that mattered. Before, you’d seen an exit, a way to back out of what was happening. Now...you were no longer sure that out existed.

Tag List: @disn3yfreak @cosmo-bear @rintheemolion @readsalot73 @space-princesssss @crushingonmando @kinkywitchy @imaginebeinlovedbyme @scintilla-morningstar @creamysacrilege @abesottedlass @persephonehemingway @doubtedbus409 @satans-tongues @retrofaek @mando--daddo @random066 @pascalisthepunkest @fruitsaladtree @snokesthrussy @groovinomicon @brooklymw @bithepowerofthegay @blue-tidal-wave @mrsparknuts @skeletongrudge @kateb013 @earthtokace​

masterlist

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned (Part Eight)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mentions of death

Context: (y/n) has to stay entertained at the cave, and so goes about setting up defences.

A/N: I think this chapter is a bit dull, but I promise it gets better soon!

Masterlist

Unsurprisingly, no light filters into my room when I wake again the next morning, my eyes having to swiftly adjust to the shadowy sight before them as I sit up, rubbing at my scalp. A pounding headache has set in, thanks to the lack of sleep and the sheer amount of over thinking I did last night, my skull feeling as if it's about to explode as I swing my legs out from under the covers, knowing that I have even more planning and preparing to do if I want to survive long enough to see the end of the year. Stretching out the dull ache in my muscles, I check the watch on my wrist briefly to get an idea of the time: 4:23. Whether that is AM or PM, I have no idea yet, but I aim to find out, quickly grabbing my rucksack and jacket as I stand and leave the room, heading out into the main hall where the boys usually spend their nights.

Bright light streams in from the outside, indicating that it is 4:23 PM, illuminating the decrepit lobby in a new clarity I've not seen it in before, every piece of scattered rubbish given a new appearance. In the daylight, the whole place looks less sinister, and more like an abandoned antiques shop, the dusty bits and pieces casting odd shaped shadows onto the floor as the sunlight hits them from a certain angle, every dull colour suddenly highlighted more than usual. I have to blink a few times to allow my eyes to adjust, but they quickly do so, my gaze swiftly flicking around the looming room so that I can take it all in, a plan springing to my mind as I observe it all.

Silently, I get to work, dropping my bag on the fountain ledge and rummaging around in it, pulling everything out to lay it out in front of me so that I can properly see what I have. It's not much, but it's enough to satisfy what needs doing. Picking up the lightweight chains we are required to own, I grab some dirty old cans lying a little way away, the litter most likely the remains of a meal from sometime before, their rusted forms almost perfect for what I need them for.

Eyeing the brightly lit entrance, I take up a ball of string, too, and go over to it, stepping out onto the rickety walkway, examining the rugged wood with a critical eye as I walk out a little way, putting some weight in my step. Under each step, the wood moves slightly, the material having a light spring to it thanks to its age and exposure to the elements, which makes me frown slightly, hoping my plan will still work even though this is the case. Kneeling down, I measure out a length of string that runs the width of the walkway and use my knife to cut it to size. Setting it aside, I get to work on the chains, making six separate lengths with cans attached to them, each one of them rattling loudly as I shake them out experimentally. Smiling to myself, I connect one chain to the end of the piece if string, doubling it over itself for a better result, quickly doing the same on the other end of the string, weighting it down perfectly. I find a pair of small rocks lodged into the cliffside beside me and place them at opposing ends of the walkway, but not before I've scraped a small groove into their surfaces, where the string rests once I've set it up, hanging the chains over the sides of the walkway. The string sits an inch or so above the surface of the walkway, meaning it is easily tripped over, setting off the rudimentary alarm.

I repeat this twice more, leaving them at alternating distances from each other to provide a crude trap to alert anyone inside the cave of approaching intruders: when someone trips the string, the cans and chains will rattle loudly, signifying their approach. Absentmindedly, I hear a small voice in my head telling me that any SRS soldiers will be expecting this, and won't fall for such an amateur trap, quickly deciding that I need to work on something inside the cave, too, something more hidden.

Going back inside, I wipe some sweat from my upper lip, surprised at the heat of the day despite it being mid-October, my clothes sticking to me as I go back to my rucksack, trying to figure something else out. My eyes are quickly drawn to the grenades I have left. They won't work very well on humans, but the loud noise and subsequent explosion of mist will throw anyone off if caught up in it, meaning they are somewhat effective for this purpose.

Grabbing them, I take the string again and go to the entrance, making sure to set up two of the conveniently placed barrels of charcoal the boys use as braziers, setting them up a little way apart around the front of the cave. Going a little way ahead of them again, I place a seemingly random cardboard box face down on the floor, checking the layout once more, before measuring pieces of string again. Cutting them all to size, I tie one end of each of the length to the ring of a grenade, which I carefully loosen, hiding the two explosives under the cardboard box as I loop the string around the two barrels, pulling it tightly enough that it creates another tripwire across the entrance.

Sitting back, I look at my handiwork, noting that the string isn't too obvious and that the overall look isn't too bad. Cautiously, I pull the string taut again, knowing how tense it needs to be for this trap to actually work. Aware that this is now a near-fatal hazard for the four original residents of the cave, I make a mental note to warn them of the new trap before one of them accidentally trips it and gets a face-full of burning holy water.

Sighing, I go back to my rucksack and pick up the gun, checking the clip for rounds, annoyed to find it only about half-full, most of them having been used over the last few days, meaning it needs reloading. I check over the rest if my stuff, growling when I realise that I haven't got anymore bullets with me, leaving me with a pretty much useless weapon which will need reloading very quickly. Setting it down again, I quickly make a decision, going back out into the daylight and up to the cliff top, where I grab some of the random pieces of driftwood lying around, returning to the cave with an armfull of them. Tiredly, I drop them to the floor and sit down, pull in out my knife so I can start whittling them down - a skill every Hunter is taught is how to make wooden bullets, seeing as they are effective against both supernatural and natural creatures.

A small pile of bullets has steadily grown by the time the boys finally emerge from their sleep, the last rays of sunlight having dissipated an hour or so ago, my fingers sore from scratching the knife over the dry wood for so long, though it has paid off: I have enough to fill four or five clips, now. As they enter the room, I look up at them with a tired smile, glad to have some company now.

"Hey guys. Sleep well?" I greet them, waving slightly with the knife, my tone light despite the tension in my body.

"Mostly, yeah." Marko responds, coming over to me with the others, their brows furrowed as they see what I'm doing.

"What're you up to?" Dwayne questions, eyeing the bullets apprehensively.

"Making some more rounds for my gun. I didn't bring enough ammo, so I'm making my own." I explain, gesturing to the pile dismissively.

"Out of wood?" Paul interjects, looking genuinely curious.

"Yep. It's the only available material."

"That's...kinda cool, but also pretty worrying." The blonde vampire muses, dropping down beside me as he goes to pick one up.

"I'm not planning to use them in you guys, don't worry." I reassure them, rolling my eyes.

"Why do you need so many?" David asks, blue eyes appearing much darker in this light.

I shrug casually, finishing up the one I'm currently working on.

"In case the SRS comes knocking. Speaking of which, I've set up some traps by the entrance, so just be careful of them." I make eye contact with David, "One of them will be very painful if it's tripped."

He frowns a little, but nods in any case.

"Duly noted." The vampire licks his lips carefully, "I'm hungry, so I'm gonna head out and get something to eat. You boys coming?"

Marko and Paul eagerly agree, though Dwayne politely declines.

"I think it's a good idea if someone stays here with (Y/n), and I'm not that hungry so I'm happy to do that." The dark haired vampire explains, watching me for a reaction as I give him a confused look, surprised at the offer.

"You don't need to, Dwayne. I'm grateful for the offer, but I don't want to ruin your night..." I start, only to be cut off by him sitting down beside me.

"Don't worry about it, I'd rather stay here. Plus, maybe you can show me how to do that. It'd get the job done quicker with two people doing it."

"I guess. Thank you." I murmur, still surprised, trying to ignore the blush rising to my cheeks.

"No problem."

"Right, well, we'll be back in a few hours. Want us to bring you something back, Dwayne?" David cuts in, eyeing the two of us carefully.

"No, it's alright. I'll go out when you guys get back."

"Ok. See you two later." Without another word, the three vampires leave the room, the surrounding quickly lapsing into silence as Dwayne and I sit there.

"So, how do you carve these?" He finally asks, pulling a knife from the pocket of his jacket, his thumb running swiftly over the blade to test it's sharpness.

"Oh, it's pretty easy. Just copy me..." I run through the basic premise of what needs doing, the vampire easily picking it up, the two of us starting to produce a good amount of them between us.

Part Nine

[gaynoctgar]

Prompto’s Brotherhood Arc is Fatphobic 2, Electric Boogaloo: Haley’s Back and She is Pissed

This essay is going to be an even deeper dive into the fatphobia that permeates Prompto’s character arc, and is going to handle the issue with more grace and nuance than I did the first time.  This is also going to explore the effects the arc had on me as a player, and on other players who share my experiences.  It is going to be very organized, long, and methodical (word count: ~5300).  It’s a bit of a doozy, but it is something I feel it is very important.  I have been wanting to elaborate on my previous Prompto essay for a long time, and for reasons I will detail below, I feel that I am ready to do this now.

Consider this a sequel to my earlier essay, and I will be referencing it throughout.

Stand back everyone; Haley’s about to get mean and personal. 

Under the cut for safety and length, please avoid if the subject is triggering to you!  Take care of yourselves! 

Thank you all so, so much for hearing what I have to say.

TW: fatphobia, eating disorders (both in terms of Prompto and of the author)

Intro

All right everyone, buckle in.  Last time I think I was a little bit too nice about this.  Last time I think I let a little too much go.  But I’m a full three years older now and I’ve seen a few more things.  And now I think it’s time that I really just let loose and criticize the fuck out of Square for something they have consistently done wrong, and that is the way they have handled issues with weight in regards to one Prompto Argentum.

Many of you may know that Prompto is one of my favorite characters in anything ever.  This very sideblog, in fact, used to be named for him (old url was promptoisbi).  It’s because of this that I hate that he’s so consistently shit on by the narrative, but right now we are talking about the out-of-universe insidiousness of the fatphobia that completely permeates this story.

The first essay is right here but the TL;DR version of that is essentially “the way that Prompto’s weight loss in Brotherhood is portrayed as a moral and positive good and in fact necessary for him to be a protagonist is immensely fatphobic.  Because the game refuses to problematize this, I am going to, and I’m going to contextualize that with my own experiences to help explain why this is so fucked.”  At that time, I was recovering from long-term anorexia, and I think that permeated a lot of what I wrote. I don’t regret this, and I still think the essay is pretty solid.  But I’m not a woman who won’t admit her own limitations, and one of mine at the time was that a lot of my fatphobia was internalized.  Now that I am healing, now that I have talked to other people with experiences that mirror my own (notably @chubbyargentum), I think I am in a better place to articulate what upsets me.  

The rest of the essay will be divided into six parts, themed as follows:

A redux of my central criticism in the first essay, that the narrative treats Prompto’s weight loss as a positive, moral good.  In fact, it’s necessary for him to be seen as a protagonist.

Detailing that Prompto’s weight loss was directly motivated by another character, and this other character does not apologize to Prompto at all for his previous behavior.  We are in fact supposed to believe that him saying what he said was a good thing.

Evidence that Prompto still legitimately has an eating disorder from his trauma. This goes unexamined by the story, and in fact seems to be actively encouraged by other characters, notably Ignis and Noct.  This isn’t to bash the characters, but the way they are written.

Points 1 and 3 combined produce a genuinely triggering experience for players like me; this is where I detail some of my own history with weight and eating problems.

Anticipating pushback, I propose two alternative scenarios that avoid the problems outlined in parts 1-4: one where Prompto doesn’t lose weight, and one where he does but it’s handled a lot more sensitively.

A personal look at what (and who) actually motivated me to do a Part 2 to my essay.

Followed by a TL;DR conclusion if you want to jump right to the heart of things.  I know this is a long essay, and I don’t apologize, but I do want to make it accessible to those who might have a harder time reading something so long.

Time to knock down these points, one by one:

Part 1: Equating Weight Loss to Morality

Prompto’s episode in Brotherhood, “Dogged Runner,” serves as our introduction both to Prompto as a character, and pulls double-duty to show us how he becomes involved in the life of a prince.  Gladio and Ignis’ episodes did not have to do this double work because they are in Noct’s life by occupation, but Prompto, being a commoner, needs this introduction. Unfortunately, this episode is not twice as long to handle the double workload it gave itself, and the plot clearly suffers for it.  For those who don’t remember, Prompto seems to be a child who more or less raises himself--a shy boy who is in the same grade as Noctis.  He is quite obviously overweight, and the episode in fact chooses to focus the bulk of its attention on that rather than how he met Noctis (this will be explored in Part 2, below).  This is what I take issue with.

Due to....an encounter, we’ll call it, with his royal classmate, Prompto becomes motivated to “improve himself to become someone worthy of a prince,” as described in Episode Prompto.  Right off the bat, this description is implying that in order to be worthy of Noctis’ companionship--even independently of Noctis’ own actions, which will be problematized in the next section--he must be different than the way he is.

This...doesn’t make sense.  We already saw that Prompto was a kind and generous soul, if rather shy.  He took in “Tiny” of his own accord; he fixed her up and fed her and made sure she was healthy, solely out of the goodness of his heart.  What else could this literal child need to “improve” about himself to make friends with Noctis?  Well...the episode focuses on this in a way I would almost argue is objectifying.  We see in excruciating detail how this literal child (I feel the need to mention again that Prompto is 12 years old and doesn’t seem to have consistent parents) approaches the world with a black-and-white mentality….that is, he seems to focus exclusively on eating salads and running an excessive amount (we’ll get to this more in Part 3).  Further objectification occurs when we are shown repeatedly that a minor is taking “progress shots” of himself in his underwear.  

A bit of a tangent, but the way that last one is drawn...y’all did remember Prompto was 14/15 at that time, right?  Extra H points for Square, right there.

So yeah, once all of this happens, Prompto is finally deemed by the narrative to be acceptable enough to enter the life of a prince.  Basically, if you’re fat, get a goddamn eating disorder and you can be a protagonist!

And I’m actually gonna take a second right now to address the more common, and generous, interpretation/criticism I am anticipating.  I know what SE was trying to do here.  They were trying to show us that Prompto’s “self-esteem” was the problem.  That he needed to gain more confidence, and losing the weight didn’t actually solve that problem.  I know this is the intent because the hotel scene exists.  But...answer me this.  Why is losing weight treated as an analogue for Prompto’s internal character growth?  Why is losing weight an analogue for literally anything?  If the issue was Prompto’s insecurity and shyness, there are a dozen other ways to show that. I can think of one right now: maybe have Noctis try to make friends and Prompto runs away because he gets nervous and tongue-tied and that’s the source of their lingering awkwardness.  There you go, much better episode.

Part 2: Noctis is a dick

And I say this as a Noct stan.  Y’all know I love him.  With all my heart, I do.  But...I don’t think he starts the game as a good person, in this respect at least.  I do think he becomes one.  And I think that his growth and maturation over the course of the game is absolutely a treat to watch.  

I’m gonna immediately qualify this by saying I do not think Noct is a dick on purpose.  Noctis is, in fact, unfailingly kind in most situations and this is one of his greater strengths.  I just think he is just as much a victim of internalized fatphobia as Prompto is, despite not having the experience of being fat.  I think two things contribute to this: biases that went unchecked by any of his caretakers, and genuine social difficulty brought about by his upbringing.

But now it’s time to get to….the incident.  The reason these two know each other.  After Prompto takes care of Pryna, she runs to deliver her letter to Noctis and eventually returns to Luna, as was her original mission.  Luna, noticing Prompto’s name on a bandana tied around Pryna’s leg, tasks Gentiana to help her find this kind soul so she can thank him.  Luna does, and Prompto receives a letter that soon becomes his prized possession.  The princess operated on the assumption that Prompto and Noctis were friends, seeing as Prompto encountered Pryna, and asked that he remain “ever at [Noctis’] side.”  Prompto takes these words to heart, and resolves to introduce himself to his royal classmate.

Here’s where the problems begin.  We know that Prompto is shy because we have seen him before.  He kinda kept to himself, away from the other kids, content to take his pictures.  To Square’s credit, I was really expecting Prompto to be a target of bullying because of his weight and he wasn’t….yet.  This actually makes his interaction with Noctis a lot worse, however.  We all know what happens next: Prompto does try to introduce himself to the loner prince (who, by his own admission later, was also kinda shy), and he happens to trip.  Noct goes to help him out because he’s kind at heart, and a confused Prompto thinks that Noctis means that he wants to see the camera.  Noct is baffled and says something along the lines of “I meant you, dummy!” and goes to help Prompto up. 

Honestly, end the scene here.  They become friends because Noct is unexpectedly kind to someone he didn’t even know, and that sticks with Prompto, and they’re childhood best friends. Right?  RIGHT?

If Square had had a modicum of decency, yes, this would have been how the scene closed.  But then Noct had to open his fucking mouth.  When trying to help Prompto up, he remarks that the poor boy is “heavy,” something that quickly and immediately impacts Prompto.  Noct, also being 12, seems none the wiser and jovially heads off to meet Ignis.  But Prompto?  Prompto is….affected by this.  He decides then and there that he has to not be heavy anymore if he wants to be Noct’s friend.   

“But Haley!” I can hear y’all saying, “Isn’t it Prompto’s fault for internalizing a harmless comment in such a way?  Why are you so angry at Noct because Prompto took it too seriously?”  Or alternatively “Noctis was also a child, he didn’t mean it!!”

Well, it’s all about how the narrative treats the situation.  I mentioned this before in Part 1, but the reason I’m mad at both Noctis and Square is because the narrative treats him as though he is in the right at all times.  If the issue really was with Prompto as a character, then we wouldn’t have been shown his journey in such excruciating detail.  We wouldn’t have been subjected to the downright harmful avenues he goes down in pursuit of this goal (see Part 3 for elaboration).  We would have just seen Prompto trying to work on becoming more outgoing--maybe talking to his neighbors more often, for example.  

One small scene in particular gets me here: we do see Noct return to the place where they met and he seems to be baffled by the fact that Prompto will not talk to him.  We in fact know this to be the case because in the hotel scene, Noct explicitly says Prompto “should have said something sooner” in terms of starting their friendship.  Now, this pisses me off for two reasons:

That this wasn’t addressed in Brotherhood itself.  We see that Noct kinda wants to approach Prom again but doesn’t seem to know how.  If we are assuming he messed up on accident, this would have been a great time for Ignis to tell him so, maybe motivate Noct to apologize.

That Prompto doesn’t immediately call Noct out for this line, or say something along the lines of “Well you kinda straight up insulted me when we first met.”

So, because neither of these scenarios is the case, I have to assume that Square wants us to think that Noct was correct to insult Prompto, and that him losing the weight is a good thing, in a narrative sense.  

Finally, it’s straight up out-of-character for Noct to be this way.  Not the misspeaking part, that is perfectly in-character.  It’s the fact that this bias of his goes unchecked by Ignis or Gladio, and he is never made to apologize for hurting another person’s feelings.  Part of growing up is realizing that sometimes your actions can hurt other people, even if you don’t intend for them to.  The fact that the intent wasn’t there doesn’t mean the hurt wasn’t real.  Since Square is so convinced that Noct needed to “mature” in this story...I am immensely disappointed that the opportunity wasn’t taken here for him to learn.  And even more disappointed because I am pretty sure this is intentional.  Every single one of Square’s fat characters is used as a side character or comic relief.  In order for Prompto to be a protagonist, he had to lose weight, and to have Noctis--the central protagonist--be the character to directly motivate that is a slap in the face.

Part 3: Don’t Recover, Buddy!/ It’s actually good that you have “obesophobia”

So I know I put the trigger warning at the top of this, but I’m doing it again, because now I’m gonna talk about eating disorders.  So this is your last chance to back out if that stuff is legitimately triggering, which I understand.

I’m gonna say it right now: Prompto has anorexia

[several people are typing…. .jpg]

I don’t think this is subtle, and I do think this is intentional, so let me break it down.  Prompto exhibits a lot of the symptoms, and yes I am speaking from personal experience.  He’s exhibited all of these from the moment Noct made that comment when they were kids, and, notably, only from that point on (hence why I wrote Part 2 the way that I did):

Prompto has an obsession with fixing meals.  He’ll be the one that helps Ignis the most often.  In Prompto’s case, this is a sign that he loves preparing the food, not so much partaking: classic hiding of symptoms.  There is also the fact that most of the salads are his favorite meals, which yes, is a deliberate callback, but I don’t think it’s a good one.

Prompto runs a genuinely stupid amount.  I think that exercise is well and good--I’m something of an exercise buff myself--but it’s the way that Prompto does it, to the point of exhaustion, that is a problem.

Despite being borderline underweight, Prompto legitimately still seems to think that he is still fat.  This is supported by his reactions to multiple dialogues, which I’ll get to in a second, and the “obesophobia” thing on his character profile which….yeah I shouldn’t even have to explain that one.  Prompto is legitimately afraid that he will gain weight--specifically, that he will be fat again.

The fact that according to that same profile, Prompto’s photography habit started when he took progress photos of himself!! So he’s also got some legit body dysmorphia going on.

These are the ones that are most obvious to me, anyway.  

“Now okay, Haley,” y’all are furiously typing, “so what that Prompto has anorexia?  That’s a relatable character flaw!”

Well….one, no it isn’t.  A disorder of any kind is not a character flaw.  I’d be willing to let that slide if the following were not also true: other characters seem to reinforce these behaviors of Prompto’s, and I am looking directly at Ignis and Noct.  Let’s start with Ignis.  I’m sure we have all gotten the random dialogue of

Prompto: All right, let’s hit up the Crow’s Nest! Ignis, for no fucking reason: If you wish to put on weight?  Certainly. Prompto, defeated: Yeah, I know…

Every time I get this dialogue I want to yell and also want the option to kick Ignis out of the party.  Also the fact that no one steps up on Prompto’s behalf (notably, you know, his goddamn best friend!!) is a bit of an Issue too.  Another one involves Ignis, but I have only gotten it once, so I can’t remember it exactly, but Ignis says something to the effect that he can make “whatever [Prompto] wants” for dinner and Prompto says “Yeah, it’s the wanting that’s the problem.”  That’s...that’s horrifying and y’all should be concerned for your friend.

To turn my attention back to Noct, objectively the most important person to Prompto, we need go no further than “Why is your face so fat?” in selfies.  

This one legitimately made me mad.  Prompto panics and retaliates with “What?? I’m not fat!!��� (notably, he said “I” and not “my face,” which is a bit of a slip), and Noctis is supposed to be his best friend.  I was somewhat okay with Noct being passive in the earlier incidents, because maybe he wanted to spare Prompto the group drama that would ensue, but Noct directly engaging in it actively pissed me off.  I also want to say this isn’t me bashing on the characters in the slightest, I am simply calling attention to the way they are written.  Because they are not called out by anyone else, because this behavior is treated as acceptable, I have to assume the narrative wants me to agree with them.

The only conclusion I can gather from this is that not only are the bros aware of Prompto’s disorder, but they actively encourage it.  Which would only further Prompto’s assumption that they only will love and accept him if he looks a certain way.  No wonder the poor kid was so freaked out about his barcode!

Part 4: This shit is triggering to players

The subtitle for this section should be “Haley talks about how deeply “Dogged Runner” affected her in a PTSD kind of way” because that’s what I’m going to be doing.  Second trigger warning for eating disorders and weight talk, because that’s what this is gonna be.  This also is not going to be nice.  I have strong language for Square:

Here’s where I come clean about why this issue matters so fucking much to me, and why I am now freely and openly saying “fuck you” to Square every chance I get.  When I first saw Brotherhood, I was at a stage in my life where I was not coping well with my body image.  I had my first brush with anorexia in high school, but it was coming back because I was in a new place, and I felt like that was the only thing in my life that I could control.  So I had been eating less and falling back into the habit, except...this time I had my support system.  So I thought.  I went into the anime wanting to learn more about the characters I had come to love, and I walked out of it thoroughly triggered and horrified that Square would stoop to such shoddy, lazy, and harmful storytelling.  

I had...a moment, here.  I won’t detail the breakdown too much but I was genuinely not okay.  To see behaviors that I had ferociously clawed my way out of, and was violently resisting once more, portrayed not only as not unhealthy, but as desirable for people like me...it genuinely felt personal.  And, I imagine I wasn’t the only player who felt that way.  In fact, because I have talked to other people like me, I know this is the case.

Let me take you on a trip, for a moment.  Humor me.  Imagine you’re in your early 20s, and you’ve put a lot of ugly, horrible coping methods behind you.  Imagine your best friend in the entire world, @nonbinary-recipehs​, recommends this game they are playing, and you play it together and start to consume its media.  Imagine the horror and dread that settles on the both of you watching this episode, which rings so similarly to the times you passed out from lack of food, from over-exercising, from over-straining yourself to be this idealized version of thinness.  Imagine seeing that the outcome of this episode isn’t Prompto getting the support he needs from his friends, but that the narrative legitimizes his suffering. In fact, this brutal suffering and rapid loss of weight was necessary to justify this character’s relevance to the narrative! Imagine how that must make you feel.  Maybe those coping methods that were so horrible actually weren’t.  It worked for Prompto, maybe it’ll work for you!!

Perhaps that little thought experiment will help you understand what this whole situation can feel like to players like me, to people who have struggled with internalized fatphobia and with eating disorders, who have been called heavy, who have been made to feel as though their worth is in their thinness.  Fuck you, Square.  Fuck you for not having an ounce of consideration for how this might possibly look.  Fuck you for not considering people like me as complete people.  Fuck you for making me watch a character I love suffer, not to tragedy, but to an illness that could have been avoided if anyone had shown him even an ounce of respect or care or decency or decorum--

…

I did warn y’all I was angry, this time.

Part 5: Two Alternative Scenarios that would Avoid All This

“So Haley,” you’re saying, somehow having read past the rant in the previous section, “if Square did it so horribly, how would you have done it?”

That, my dear reader, is an excellent question.  In fact, I’ve got two solutions, which I will explain and elaborate upon below:

The first is rather simple: Prompto doesn’t actually lose the weight and becomes a canonical fat character.  Absolutely nothing else would change about the story or Prompto’s character except for the following:

Noctis would become curious as to why this new friend of his was avoiding him.  He then has the opportunity to open up to Ignis or Gladio and reflect on what he said, and realize that he actually hurt Prompto’s feelings.  This motivates him to apologize, and the two become Actual Childhood Friends.

Prompto just Has This Body Type Now and nobody says dick about it, that’s just the Way He Looks

You could explore internalized fatphobia I suppose but I don’t actually trust Square to do this sensitively.  You know who I do trust? Liam ( @chubbyargentum ), who writes the Nighttime Sunshine AU and fic.  

All of the previously mentioned fatphobic comments are completely removed because all the bros love and support him.

Prompto isn’t the comic relief because of his size, he just happens to be both.  Yes, there is a difference, and no, I am not going to derail the essay by explaining that.

Prompto would still absolutely kick ass, take names, shoot people, love chocobos...all the shit he does in canon.  But now, you have a character who didn’t have to be completely humiliated to get to this point.  Now you just...have a guy who happens to be friends with the prince, because he is kind and caring. 

But okay, let’s take another approach.  Let’s say Prompto does still lose weight. How, then, do we accomplish this without being fatphobic or debasing Prompto’s character like canon did?  

That leads me to solution 2: Prompto does lose weight, but it’s incidental.  Let me explain what I mean here:

Let’s have a situation in which the apology does still happen as I outlined in the first solution.  Childhood friends is a thing.

As such, Prompto becomes...increasingly curious at all the cool training Noct does.

Noct is….embarrassed about this, I think. Because Prompto doesn’t like Understand What It All Means...and they’re still pretty young.  Noct doesn’t want him to understand.

But Prompto?  He wants to be able to Do Cool Shit, especially if it means defending his best bro who also happens to be the prince.  And he doesn’t want Noct to do any of this alone.  He asks to train with Noct, no special treatment (except for like the fact that he legit can’t do magic).

Gladio...allows this, begrudgingly.  Then, permanently, when he notices Noct tries harder as a result of showing off.

Prompto starts to learn how to take care of himself from Gladio, and from Ignis, who has...gathered that Prompto doesn’t exactly have parents, and becomes invested in helping him learn how to cook healthy meals for himself.  Who knows?  Maybe the healthy eating will rub off on Noct!

The result is that, over time, Prompto does lose some weight...and starts to bulk up as Puberty Happens.  However.  This is all incidental.  Prompto never set out to lose weight because he hated himself or felt unworthy, like in canon.  He set out to become strong and train with his best bro.  This is absolutely critical. 

With this solution, Prompto does lose weight, but doesn’t become the borderline underweight young man with an eating disorder we all know and love.  Instead, he’s been brought up around healthier traditions, which makes him immensely more suited for the role of Crownsguard when that time comes.  In fact, he might have entered it at age 18 just like Gladio and Ignis did, despite Noct’s protests.  Another thing I like about this solution is that it shows how Prompto is friends with Ignis and Gladio; how those relationships developed independently of Noctis, and why these four really are the family unit the game wants me to think they are.

And with these two solutions, I believe I have laid out some much stronger backstories for our beloved boy that avoid all of the...unfortunate implications of his canon backstory.  I only wish that Square had thought about their implications just a little bit more, and done Prompto some true justice.

Part 6: What motivated this essay, and the power of shared experience

This isn’t really a proper conclusion, that’ll be in TL;DR, but I would be remiss to not include what actually motivated me to write this massive essay, and also share it with all of you.  The sharing part, I think, is super critical.  When you inhabit marginalized identities, and in this case I specifically mean having a fat body, it can be...difficult to share and discuss your experiences.  Harder, still, to be public about them, and to criticize media that perpetuates these harmful ideas.  But here I am, doing that.  Here’s why that is.

About a month ago, I met @chubbyargentum, who is called Liam.  I was cruising through the promptis tag, as you do, and found his Nighttime Sunshine AU, and his blog is filled with excellent art for it as well. The premise of this AU, on its face, is very simple: it’s a story where Prompto and Noctis did not actually become friends in high school, and two very important things are different: Prompto is still fat, and Noctis is a closeted trans man.  While I can’t speak to the trans experience, I can indeed speak to the experience of inhabiting a fat body.  And this AU….spoke to me.  I don’t want to spoil too much but there is a rather emotional scene that just...confronts everything I wanted Square to confront about this that they never did.  He approaches the topic with so much sensitivity and nuance, something that is so rarely seen in fandom. 

I’ve talked with Liam every day since, and my brain has consistently been enlarged.  A lot of things I let slide before...felt so egregious to me that I had to say them.  I’ve been confronting my own internalized prejudices towards certain kinds of bodies all the time, and I am learning every day.  He’s become a very dear friend of mine, and I care deeply about him.

This also came at I guess you could say the “first climax” of my journey with weight loss, which I had never had success with despite the trauma I described in Part 4.  I’ve lost...a significant amount of weight since March, and I think the reason I’ve had so much success is 1) the support of my friends (notably @nonbinary-recipehs, @pocket-prompto, and @chubbyargentum), and 2) not feeling like I hated myself anymore.  I approached it as a journey to become more strong, not less fat.  As I outlined in Part 4...Prompto’s Brotherhood episode and character backstory were and are legitimately triggering to me, and, I imagine, to many others.  Liam had the confidence to put the content in the world that he wished to see, and this essay is helping me do the same.  

Having other people who share your marginalized experiences and validate them...well, I’m sure many of you know.  It’s a feeling like no other.  And I’ve never really had this feeling explicitly about the experience of being fat until now.  Now, I understand that my anger is in fact, righteous.  And I am not afraid to say so.  The power of shared experience motivated this essay and, in fact, everything that I do on this blog.  I have come away from this AU with the bravery to say aloud what I have always known to be true.   

So thank you, Liam.  Thank you, big brain group.  And thank you, readers, for listening to an experience that may or may not mirror your own, and for opening up your heart enough to hear the roughly 5000 words before this point.  Thank you for making the effort to understand, and the effort to learn and grow.

TL;DR

I did promise to provide an easily digestible version of the…(checks word count) ~5000 words before this point, so here we go.  The central thesis of this essay is something like “the way Prompto’s weight loss arc was portrayed in Brotherhood is horrendously fatphobic for a number of reasons.”  I then broke it down into six major pieces: the first four being the fact that weight loss is treated as moral by the narrative, the uncharacteristically dickish actions of Noctis, the fact that Prompto’s disorder is encouraged by other characters, and the out-of-universe triggering effects the story has.  In the fifth piece, I outlined two alternative scenarios: one where Prompto doesn’t lose weight at all and remains fat, and one where he does lose weight but healthily so and fleshes out his character.  In the final piece, I explained the motivation behind writing this essay, namely interacting with other fat fans like @chubbyargentum.  I explained all of these points in great detail, being careful to stress that my issue with this isn’t any of the individual characters, but the bias that motivates the writing.

So...what now?  Well, I’m not really sure.  But this was something I really had to put into the world.  I think it is important and necessary to speak up and criticize media that harms you.  And you know what?  Final Fantasy XV is still my favorite game.  It is because I love it so much that I was motivated to write this, and by sharing it, I hope to contribute to a greater discussion about fatphobia in gaming, and in life.

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

The woman who stood in front of you was beautiful. Hauntingly so with her thick, baby blonde hair, translucent skin, and soft features. She was small. Not just in height, but everything about her. It’s almost as if there were a dozen signs around declaring her harmless and to come closer. But there was one thing that stopped you from doing so. One thing about this woman that whispered danger.

A pair of red eyes.

They put an edge to her sweet smile, taking the innocence away and replacing it with cunning intent. In a way, they reminded you of a cat, refracting the light in a way no regular human’s could.

“Who are you?” you finally found your voice to ask.

“My name is Molia.” She took a step towards you which you immediately retreated from. All it did was make her laugh. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears. It was a miracle that you were able to hear anything she was saying at all. “It’s you, isn’t it? The one I’ve been seeing in my visions?”

“Yes,” she replied with a high pitched giggle as if the notion of it being anyone else was absurd. Once again, she moved closer to you and once again, you recreated the distance. Her smile faded. “(y/n), I’m not going to harm you.”

You shook your head. Being here, alone, it didn’t feel right. “I don’t know how you expect me to believe that.”

“Did you ever see me do anything harmful?”

Thinking back on the visions, you frowned. There weren’t enough to the scenes you’d witnessed to truly say either way. “No… but the feeling–”

“There is always fear in the unknown.” Before you could blink, Molia was behind you, her hands resting on your shoulders as she whispered in your ear. “I’m just like you, (y/n). The two of us need to join together.”

You spun around to face her. “What do you mean you’re just like me?”

Instead of answering, Molia took your hands and pressed your palms together. When she pried them apart, a small flame no bigger than a coin sparked to life. She scooped up the fire into her own cupped hands where it grew to twice its size. Then she snuffed it out, barely a puff of smoke to prove its existence.

“That’s impossible,” you whispered in disbelief. “How did you- how could you-” For some reason, you could not connect what you’d witnessed to the logical part of your brain. Not even Mother Willow could do such a thing.

“I was telling the truth.” Delicately, she lifted your face with a finger under your chin so the two of you were looking eye to eye. “What do you know the other witch like you?”

“The other one?” you said. You’d been told the story of the witch centuries ago who lost control. It was told to you like a warning every time your own usage went a little too wild for the elders’ comfort. By now, you knew almost every word by heart. But it was no fairytale. “She was a witch who used her power for selfish reasons. Eventually, they drove her insane and she nearly took out an entire village before she passed herself.”

Molia scoffed. “They would record it that way, wouldn’t they? Take the blame from themselves.”

“Are you saying that’s not what happened to her?” As much as you wanted to believe that mothers of old wouldn’t manipulate historic records, you couldn’t quite put that much faith in them. They believed themselves to be the epitome of goodness and they wouldn’t want anything to tarnish that good name.

“No,” Molia stated firmly. “That’s not what happened to me.”

You stumbled back.

No. That wasn’t possible. Magical or not, witches didn’t live that long. Not even wolves lived that long. “You can’t be….” But then you looked into her eyes again.

Her red, inhuman eyes.

“Are you–”

“A vampire?” she giggled, her previous charm coming back to the surface. “Yes. One took pity on me when the elders’ turned against me. We faked my death since they never would have let me live if they’d known the truth. For the past four hundred years, I’ve been in hiding, wondering if I could ever be truly free. Then I found out about you.” With a pale hand, she reached out to you, cupping your cheek in a palm so cold it might as well had been an ice pack fresh from the freezer. “I don’t want you to feel the loneliness that I have. I want you to feel like there is someone on your side. You deserve that.”

As pretty as her words were, you couldn’t say they were correct. Sehun’s face flashed in your mind. “But I do have someone.”

Molia scoffed as she dropped her hand. “That wolf? He didn’t even take the time to listen to you when it mattered the most.”

“But he was right,” you defended. “It wasn’t Mina.”

“No, not entirely.” A sly grin stretched across her pale pink lips. “Mina may have not been the one you saw in your visions, but she isn’t entirely innocent. Or she could be. Depending on your point of view.”

“I’m not really in the mood for riddles.”

Molia laughed softly. “I’m sorry. Old habit. I simply mean that when I saw poor Dana’s friend come into town, I thought she could be useful.”

“Useful?” Yeah, if you wanted to experience something shallow, maybe.

“Unfortunately, you haven’t met the real Mina,” Molia went on. “Each time you’ve seen her, she’s been under my control.”

You gaped at her. “Control? Why?”

“I needed to see you alone,” she said. “But with the way things were going with that wolf, I wasn’t going to be able to.”

“So you made us fight?” It was bizarre to hear that she went to such lengths. Almost laughable at the absurdity. Why didn’t she simply approach you the few times you were alone in the forest?

“I didn’t make you do anything. All I did was adjust Mina’s character a bit. Think about it. What did Mina do, hm? Flirt a little? Make you feel a little jealous?” The space between you and Molia disappeared again as she came in close, tapping your cheek with her index finger. “That’s all. The words said by the wolf were all his own doing. As were your own words. Mating isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?”

“You’ve got that right,” you murmured. His words echoed in your ears, but you shook them away. “Look, I know you said that you wanted to make sure that I wasn’t lonely like you were, but else do you want from me? This giant scheme can’t be just about meeting me and sisterhood.”

“You’re right,” Molia agreed. “It’s about unlocking your true potential.” She leaned in and grasped your hands tightly. The pressure made you flinch. She was holding on so firmly, as if you’d float away if she didn’t keep you down on the ground. “You are so special, (y/n). Fire, water, earth, air? That’s just the beginning of what you can do. Those cute little tricks you show the child and mongrels? It’s barely the tip of your powers.”

Just a tip? There was already so much that you could, what else could there be? The mothers thought you were dangerous now, they’d always cautioned you on getting out of control. Mother Willow said time and time again that these powers could be all consuming, that they could take over and make you lose yourself.

“Don’t think about them,” Molia said as if she could hear your thoughts. “I know what they’ve told you because they told me the same thing. But it’s not true. These powers are a part of who you are. They aren’t meant to be suppressed. The more you let them out, the more you know them, the better off you are.”

Like a period emphasizing her words, a raindrop fell from the heavy clouds above you, landing on your shoulder. With a giant wave of her hand, Molia swirled the air around to create a dome over the clearing. You watched as the rain stopped several feet above your head and rolled to the side, keeping you dry.

“How did you do that?” you asked in amazement. The rain came down harder, lightning flashing in the air and the wind picking up to the point that the trees were bending to its will. But you felt none of the storm’s strength in your safe little bubble.

“Oh, this is nothing a little practice can’t create. You’d be amazed at what you’ll be able to do in time.” A flash of rebellion swept through her eyes. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The important thing to do now is start your training.”

“Training?” A feeling – giddiness or maybe excitement – swept through you. But you quickly pushed it down and away from you. “I don’t think- I mean, I should probably head back. Sehun will be worried.”

“Why do you even still worry about him!” Molia shouted. Her outburst made you jump. It was terrifying how quickly she’d gone from sweet and encouraging to enraged and fiery. But as swiftly as the anger had come, it dissipated just as fast. The harsh expression smoothed out to one of gentleness. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I just don’t want you to be hurt by him anymore.”

You weren’t sure of the right way to respond. You couldn’t say that he didn’t hurt you because he did. His hot and cold actions in the beginning hurt, what he had said only a few hours ago had hurt more. That didn’t take away from the times he was kind to you, however, or the way you felt when he held you. The softest pillow couldn’t give you the same reassurance or sense of security that your head against his chest could.

“Come,” Molia grabbed your hand, effectively taking you out of the sweet memories that nearly had you running back to the farmhouse. She led you further into the clearing until you came across very familiar stacks of wood. “Let me show you what you can do and then you can decide if you still want to leave. Alright?”

No. Not alright. You should go. No matter what she was offering, the right thing for you to do would be to go back. You’d discovered the answer. Molia was the culprit, not Mina. But her offer was too tempting, too enticing. Besides, you had a feeling as to what she was going to teach you… and you wanted to see it in person.

Molia led you over to the stacks of branches and fallen trees. You were curious as to whether or not she was the one who had moved them, but you never go the chance to ask as she took her stance behind you.

“I know fire is your strength,” she said. “Just as water is mine.” Her hand fell on your shoulder, exactly as you remembered. “Your power is fueled by your emotions. But you can’t rely on soft feelings. You have to dig deep. The stronger the emotion, the more control you’ll have. Focus on the wood and imagine creating the fire.”

You nodded, taking in her words. She was right. Your powers always surged when your emotions were driving. Would it be possible to let your emotions connect to the power inside of you while still keeping grasp of them?

Slowly, you lifted a hand, reaching out in front of you to channel the energy building up inside.

“Think of hate,” she whispered behind your ear. “Think of your pain.”

It was too easy to obey. The ache that simmered in your chest grew in strength as the memories of every wrong that had ever been committed against you replayed in your head. Your eyes swelled with tears as you remembered all the times that you were ostracized, judged, ridiculed beyond mercy. All of it continued to rise, feeding your powers. It collected in your hand. It pushed and shoved just wanting to be released. 

“Good. Now let it go. You are so full of potential. Don’t hold back and see what you can do.”

Whoosh!

Flames burst forth from the dried wood. As if calling up to the rain that still poured down from above, they danced and waved. They gave off the extreme heat that you remembered from your dream. Sweat started excreting from your pores and rolling down your face. It made you feel like a roast in the oven on the highest temperature.

Behind you, Molia burst into laughter. You turned to see her jumping and clapping with delight. Not quite the madwoman that had haunted you that night.

“Now,” she said with eager eyes. “Kill it.”

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you faced the fire head on. It was easy to tap into that source once again and in one swift motion of your arm, you extinguished the flames as if they never existed. 

Molia squealed with delight. Now it was you who wore the large grin. Each breath came in shallow and heavy but fast. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Never had you felt like this when you’d practiced before. It was freeing. You wanted to stay in that euphoria.  

“Show me more.”

**

Sehun stared out the kitchen window. He counted the drops that hit the glass, each one feeling like a bullet to the heart. 

Somewhere out in this storm was you. Almost every worst possible scenario was playing his head, tormenting him as invisible demons laughed at him. You could be lost, passed out under a tree while being soaked by the rain. Or maybe you’d been caught by the threat, who had you chained up and was torturing you for its own pleasure. He could almost hear your screams echoing around him. Had you fallen down and been swept away by the river? Had you come across a dangerous animal that chased you down? With each thought, the scenes became more and more terrifying. 

“Sehun, are you listening?”

Sehun snapped his head around. “What?”

Junmyeon sighed. “I know you’re worried. We all are, but I need you-”

“Do you really think your worry is as great as mine?” Sehun growled. Junmyeon didn’t answer. No one did. Sehun’s shoulders heaved up and down, slowing in rhythm as he was able to reign in his frustration. Staring down at the hardwood floor, he mumbled, “Sorry.”

“It’s understandable,” Soomi said with her typical amount of gentleness and compassion. Not even this could break her character. “And it's scary, thinking that she’s out there, alone in this. But she’s a survivor. She’ll be okay.”

Sehun shook his head. “I can’t just leave her out there while I’m here safe from the storm.” 

All throughout the night, the wind and rain only began to grow stronger. The sun was certainly gone from the sky even if he couldn't see it. What a perfect metaphor for how he felt now. His light was gone, hidden from him behind what seemed impenetrable. 

“There’s no way to find her,” Chanyeol argued. His mate took hold of his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. Did they really have to do that here? Right now? 

“Would you leave Lanie out there by herself even if you couldn’t follow her scent?”

“Leave me out of this,” Lanie begged. She let go of Chanyeol’s hand and leaned forward,  massaging her temples. 

Harper huffed. She’d been pacing back and forth since Kris had explained to the pack about your disappearance. Sehun was thankful to have someone on his side, who was just as eager to find you as he was. “I agree with Sehun that we should go look for her, weather be damned.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Luhan barked in a tone that was unusual for the more mellow wolf. He was scowling, irritated. It was so unlike him, but Sehun couldn’t think about the reason behind it now. 

“Is there any sort of shelter she might be able to find in the woods?” Lottie asked desperately.

“No,” Minseok answered. “In these trees, there’s nothing but this house and the city.”

Sehun straightened up as soon as those words left the older member’s mouth. An idea of where you might have gone struck him. He didn’t even think. He just ran. Out the back door and through the rain. The ground slopped beneath his feet, whimpering at the weight of his feet as the mud squished between his shoes.

His clothes suctioned to him, restricting his movements, but it didn’t slow him down. Not even the yells of his name or the shouts for him to stop. He pushed through the wind and didn’t flinch when the lightning cracked across the sky. 

Finally, the construction site came into view. 

“(y/n)! (y/n)!” 

This was your place. The place the two of you came to be alone, to get away from the loud and rowdy house. Some of the roof had now been constructed and the house and garage were starting to look more like structures that could shelter someone from this weather. 

“Sehun! What the hell are you thinking?”

Huddled under the tree line, several of the pack members – Junmyeon among them – look at him in confusion.

“I thought she might be here,” Sehun yelled over the sound of the rain pelting down on the wood around him. “It could keep her safe from all this.”

“And is she here?” Jongin asked hopefully. But Sehun shook his head, disappointed. The former visibly deflated. 

“Then come back with us,” Junmyeon ordered. “This is crazy, Sehun. I know she’s your mate, but if you’re sick or hurt, you’re no use to her.”

Sehun kicked at the ground, frustrated. “I can’t just go back. It’s wrong. All wrong.”

“We’ll find her,” Junmyeon promised. “One way or another.”

But how could Sehun put faith in that? Junmyeon was smart, resourceful, strong, but he wasn’t all knowing, he wasn’t magically, some old wizard who solve all problems with a few wise words. He couldn’t just point to a map and say that’s where you were. Not even Soomi had been able to do that. Going back felt wrong. It felt like giving up. And he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t give up on you. He had so much to apologize for, so much to say to you. 

As if to give him one single act of mercy, the rain began to let up. The clouds started to break apart, letting the darkened sky behind them peek through, tiny stars dotting the black backdrop. In one such cloud, part of the moon shined through. 

Two days. 

He had two days until the blood moon.

I won’t give up, he declared to you silently. I’ll keep searching and I’ll bring you home. Just, please, be safe until then. 

Then he fell to his knees, splashing the water around him. Junmyeon approached slowly and squeezed his shoulder. A small comfort, but one he would take this time around. Starting tomorrow, he was going to run the entire length of this forest, covering every inch until he caught some sort of sign of you. He wouldn’t stop until he found you. That he was sure of.

[harry-styles-sunflower]

Wandering Hands Part 4

Hellooo everyone! I hope you are all having a lovely day! SO this is Part 4 of Wandering Hands.

What it is: You and Harry become friends but you come with certain baggage that might make any other man run.

Word count: 7.5k (longest part i’ve ever written ahh)

Warning: Cursing and smut (lmk if I forgot one!)

This part is ~juicy~ ALSO! New character alert, if you want to picture somebody, i picture zach roerig 

Pls reblog if you like it :) Thanks in advance for the support! Feedback is always helpful, I love hearing from you all!

♡♡♡

“Yes and no, I mean I still have to get to know you more Harry. Trust doesn't come overnight, it takes time.” You sigh  

“You act like we haven't spoken all day and night for the past two months.” His tone has changed to agitated.

“Okay, we have but still. I don't want you meeting Sam for a while.” You tried to get him to understand now with remaining calm.

“Why not though?” He pushed.

“Harry stop questioning me it's my decision,” you raise your voice a little. You were growing agitated now.

“You act like I'm a horrible person or like I'm not worthy of meeting him. You sit there and scoff at me while I try to have some fucking interest in your life” he remarked at you. Him cursing towards you pushed all buttons for you.

“Damn it harry how the fuck am I supposed to know you'll stick around? How do I know that if I introduce you two now that you wont just leave and he'll have to overcome a second heartbreak of getting over another man in his life?” you said a bit louder. He looks at you and slowly realizing the whole situation. He stays quiet for a bit and looks down.

“I'm sorry you're right. I understand. I shouldn’t have pushed it,” You sigh and he walks over to you and hugs you.

“Ive never done this before Harry, I wanna do it right,” you lay your head against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist.

“I know love, I know. I just got excited. I like you a lot so meeting someone else like you got me excited,” he squeezed you.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. And don’t curse at me in anger, I don't do relationships like that,” you stated. You didn’t, not even with Michael, you never cursed towards each other. Maybe about other people but never about each other.

“Sorry wasn’t very gentleman of me,” he kissed your head.

“I forgive you. If we want to do this we have to communicate well, and calm. Im sorry for scoffing at you. It was rude, and you didn’t deserve it. I could’ve came out differently,” you looked up at him.

“Thank you and you're right. Communication is key. But uh, does this mean you've been thinking of breaking up, like since you said the whole thing about what if I don’t stay..”

“No Harry, but I have to take precaution. It’s not that I’m coming into this relationship expecting it to end but my guard is up a bit. Trust and time will help bring it down.”

“Okay,” he lifted a finger underneath your chin and gave you a soft kiss, “I don’t intend on leaving you know.” He said against your lips.

“I know,” you pressed your lips against his. He pushed your lips more against his by holding your head in place.

“Our breakfast has gotten all cold, want to go out and grab something from the bakery down the road?” He kisses your forehead. He somehow always gave you instant relief with his kisses.

“That sounds amazing,” you get your shoes on and were out the door. Harry lent you a hoodie, your cardigan from last night wasn't going to cut it in this weather. You weren’t going to give him this back. You two walked out his house together, hand in hand.

“What’s Sam’s favorite snack?” He asks as you walk.

“Week before last it was cosmo brownies, last week it was Rice Krispie treats, I don’t know what this week will be,” you laughed, “he has my taste buds.”

“I’ll be taking note,” he kissed your hand.

“Are you and Gemma close? I figure since you had makeup wipes in your bathroom she was here recently?”

“Yeah like two months before we met she had visited, she’s one of my best friends. We text everyday,” he looked around the street. It wasn’t very busy. Just a few people walking their dogs.

“That’s nice, I hope Sam can have that one day. If not with a sister a best friend you know?” He nodded. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought up kids so early in the morning. You two walked into the bakery and it smelled like flour and chocolate. It was a cute small mom and pop shop. You were looking at their options on their small paper menu when you heard your name.

"y/n?" you've heard this voice before. Probably haven't heard it in two years.

"Matt?" you turned towards him. Harry turned towards you two. He had blonde hair and was tall, around Harry's height. Blue eyes and crooked smile. He was Michael's best friend. He took care of you for a bit after Michael died. 'A bit' being three years, then they sent him overseas again. You two instantly hugged. He still smelled the same. He was still tan so he must've just gotten back.

"It's been so long," you wiped a few tears that had escaped. You were so happy he made it back home.

"I know, we have to catch up, how's Sam? He must be huge!" he said with a wide smile.

"He is! You left him when he was at my hip and now he's almost at my ribs. He's going to be tall. We have to catch up though, maybe tomorrow. After school?" you asked.

"Yeah! I can do that," he smiled at you.

"When'd you get back?" Harry was the jealous type that was in extreme denial of being the jealous type. So he stood there uncomfortably as you spoke to your friend. Too close of a friend for him. He watched the way Matt looked at you and he didn't like it. He also didn't like the way he hugged you. So he coughed. You turned around and grabbed his hand. "Wait, Matt. This is Harry, Harry this is Matt. He was Michael's best friend." you explained.

"Nice to meet you man," he shook Harry's hand before answering your question, "I just got back two days ago, was going to text you today or tomorrow actually."

"I'm happy you're home," you said knowing he knew what you meant. He knew you meant you were happy he didn't have the same fate as Michael.

"Me too," he looked over at Harry and gave you a questioning look.

"So Matt, Harry is my boyfriend," you smiled up at him, and Harry looked down at you smiling. It was still a little weird for you to say. You weren't used to it yet. Matt nodded as you spoke.

"That's great y/n, I'm really happy for you. You deserve it," he said genuinely. You smiled at him.

"She's a keeper man, she was great wife, even better mother." Harry squeezed you closer to him.

"Yeah mate, I don't intend on letting her go,"

"Oh shit, you're British, that's pretty fucking cool." he laughed. Harry nodded and you rubbed his back.

"The accent is just about the only cool thing," they both laughed.

"Alright well I have to go, I'll text you later y/n, nice meeting you Harry," he hugged you and kissed your head and shook hands with Harry. Harry who was trying very hard to contain himself. After this morning he didn't want to push you away even more. Matt left and you decided on what you were going to get.

"I think I'm going to get a cream cheese bagel and a croissant on the side, oh and tea. We didn't finish ours"  you told Harry.

"Me too," he ordered for you two and you sat at a small table waiting.

"He was nice," Harry spoke up first.

"Yeah he is, him and Michael were practically brothers. They both never had siblings. I consider him like my brother in law, he took care of Sam and I for like three years after Michael passed. They needed him though and I was a lot better than I was in the beginning so I told him to go and he left," he listened to you as you spoke.

"How long have you known him, like since you were 15 too?" he looked outside the window.

"Nah, I met him after Michael got back from training, so like for 11 years now?" he nodded.

"Does he have a wife too?" he asked right before they brought our food out.

"No, I set him up with someone I met while I was in school, college, and they were together for a bit, but um she saw what happened to Michael and said she wouldn't be able to handle if that happened to Matt so they broke up." you took a bite of your bagel.

"That kind of stinks, finding someone, loving them, and then them leaving you because they think you'll have a similar fate as your friend," he sipped his tea.

"Yeah, I understand both sides. She's missing out on a great man now because its been five years and he's still alive," you sipped your tea.

"So you plan on hanging out with him tomorrow?" he wipes his mouth of cream cheese with a napkin.

"Yeah probably, Sam's going to be so happy. He calls him Uncle Matt," you smiled, "does that bother you? That I'm going to hang out with him?" you asked.

"Oh no love it's okay, I understand." he really wished you wouldn't. He wished he could hang out with you and Sam instead.

"Thank you for understanding," you reached over and grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

"What time do you have to be home by?" he asked.

"Ugh, sounds like I have a curfew," you laughed, "But usually they drop him off around noon so I have to go soon," you pouted.

"Wish you didn't have to," he said honestly. You agreed. You two had finished your breakfast and you walked back to his house. You had about an hour left to be with him before you had to go. You walked in hand in hand and when he closed his door you pulled him close to you and leaned up to kiss him. He kissed you back with need and leaned you up against his wall.

"Want you," you breathed into the kiss.

"Need you," he responded. He leaned his head down and kissed your neck. He was becoming addicting. You pressed your hips against his and he groaned.

"Harry," you moaned.

"Yes love?" he bit under your earlobe.

"Let me do what I wanted to do last night," you reached down in between you two and grabbed his length.

"Don't tell me twice," he grinned before placing his mouth on yours again. He led you back to his room without taking his mouth off yours. He fell back against his bed and you climbed on top of him. You grabbed his hands and intertwined your fingers. You brought them above his head and kissed at his neck. He was loving this. You kissed down his neck to his chest. You put your hands under his shirt and rubbed near his butterfly. He hissed because your hands were a bit cold from outside. You lift his shirt up slightly and kissed around his butterfly and down to his ferns. You tugged his gray sweats down and kissed at the waistband of his boxers. You rubbed him through the thin material before pulling it down. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch you. You loved pleasuring others, it wasn't something you fell short in. You released him from his boxers and he sighed. You began pumping him slowly and licked his tip placing him flat against your tongue. You licked up and down his shaft a few times before taking him slowly into your mouth. Your gag reflux was minimal he'd soon find out. Your left hand rubbed his balls while your right pumped him slowly. You spit lightly on the tip causing him to moan at the view in front of him. You slowly deepthroated him earning a louder groan and he put his hands in your hair gathering it in a fist.

"Fuck, y/n. Do that again," You lifted your mouth off of him, a line of spit forming as you pulled away and took all of him again," his hips jerked and you moaned. You sucked his balls and pumped his length fast as you did.

"Y/n, I'm close," you put your mouth back on him immediately, wanting him to release in your mouth. You looked up at him fluttering your lashes as you took him full again. You felt his cum hit the back of your throat and you swallowed. You didn’t stop sucking until you were sure there was no more cum left. He ended up pulling your head off mumbling 'too much' before pulling you into a heated kiss. He flipped you so you were under him.

"Harry, we can't," you whined.

"Ugh," he groaned, "I want to make you feel just as good," he reached down and rubbed in between your legs. You moaned and grabbed his wrist.

"I want that too but I have to go," you kissed him. He kissed you back and put his hand on your cheek.

"When will I see you again?" you hadn't thought of it. Sam only went to his grandparents every other weekend. Two weekends was too long without him. You bit your lip and looked away.

"I'm not sure," you felt bad not being able to give him an answer. His hand on your cheek gently turned your head to face him again.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd wait for you," he kissed your nose. You closed your eyes savoring the moment and trying to keep your emotions in check. How had you found such an angel?

"I'll try and plan something for this week," you whispered before kissing him lightly.

"Okay," he whispered back.

You two got up, Harry getting dressed again as you fixed your hair. You watched him, photographing every movement into your memory. He walked you to your car and closed the door as you got in. You opened your window and he leaned inside. He put a finger under your chin giving you a lingering kiss making you want more. But you had to go. You said bye and drove home. You did some laundry before your doorbell rang signifying your son was home. You sped walk to the door excited to see your boy. You open the door and he attacks your waist.

“Hi baby,” you squat down and kiss his head. He was such a sweet and affectionate boy. You savored every moment.

“Hi ma,” he kissed your cheek before hugging you. He whispered in your ear, “grandma wants to talk, I’m sorry,” before kissing your cheek again and running inside. You had a confused look on your face as you watched him run off.

“Y/n,” Lydia spoke.

“Lydia?” You questioned.

“I know about Harry,” you were shocked, “Sam told us at dinner, he was excited.” You swallowed. You never wanted to tell Sam to keep secrets so you couldn’t be mad about this.

“He um, okay. Um we just, Sam’s not meeting him for a bit. Not until I think it’s time.” You spoke.

“Are you two a couple?” You couldn’t tell what her tone was. Condescending? Approving? Genuinely curious?

“Uh yeah, officially so. This past weekend.” You were so uncomfortable.

“I’d like to meet him, he knows about Sam right?” She looked at you with a raised brow.

“Yes of course he knows about Sam. I wouldn't keep Sam a secret. And you’ll meet him when I feel it’s time too.” You hated how you felt like you were co-parenting with her. You were his only parent.

“Okay well,” she looked around, “I’m happy for you y/n, it’s about time. Maybe not move on and forget, but move on and still remember you know?” She purposely didn’t look at you.

“I uh yeah, I obviously won’t forget him. How could I? He was my husband. But I do think I deserve to not die alone, have another love.” You swallowed. Why was this so weird? And why was Lydia being so nice?

“I agree. Well have a good night,” she said before walking away.

“You too,” you said lowly.

You closed the door and leaned against it. Sam.

“Sam?” You called.

“I’m sorry Mami,” he looked down with a guilty look on your face.

“Don’t be sorry baby,” you walked towards him, you lifted his chin up and smiled at him, “I’ve never taught you to keep secrets, so I’m proud you didn’t.” You kissed his head.

“Grandma and grandpa didn’t look mad when I told them, and I also said he was just your friend!” He explained. You loved his enthusiasm and the way he spoke with his hands.

“They couldn’t be mad, it’s my life. I think grandma is actually happy I’ve got a friend,” you told him. You weren’t going to spur the term boyfriend on him just yet. You were sure Harry would be okay with it too.

“She’s getting a lot nicer ma,” he said with a confused look on his face. You both shrugged and laughed. You two cuddled on the couch for the majority of the rest of the day. You watched Inside Out and taught Sam a few ways to express himself. He said he felt like joy that day with a little bit of fear because he didn't know how you would react about him spilling the beans about Harry. You cleared his worries before sending him to shower before dinner. You checked your phone to see Harry had texted you.

H: Hey beautiful, how are you?

Y/n: Hi handsome, I'm good. Just cooking some dinner.

H: I'm jealous, I had Chinese. I'm reading a manuscript now.

y/n: Perhaps you should focus on that and not use me to procrastinate?

H: You already know me so well.

y/n: 😘😘😘

You cooked spaghetti, one of Sam's favorites. Pasta always made him extra sleepy so it was the perfect meal for a Sunday night before school. Your mind kept wandering off as you cooked to Harry's dimpled smile making you smile yourself. Once Sam was out the shower you two talked about what the week ahead would look like.

"Sam, you remember Uncle Matt?" you asked as you served him. He twirled the spaghetti with his fork before nodding vigorously.

"Yes of course!" he said before stuffing his face. You laughed and handed him a napkin.

"Um he might hang out with us tomorrow, after school. I have to text him," you sat next to him with a plate for yourself.

"He's back?!" he exclaimed.

"Yes," you smiled. You know he loved him a lot.

"I can't wait to see him," he said before taking another bite. You two soon finished your plates and you let him watch some Disney before bed while you cleaned up the kitchen. You sent him off to bed once you finished and got his lunch ready for the next day. Your phone rang and you saw it was Harry.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hey love, Sam asleep yet?" he asked.

"Um, yeah why?" you put his backpack on one of the chairs and looked around you. It was like he was watching you. You heard a knock on the door.

"Harry, hold on someone's knocking. Has to be Lydia or something. Only she knows the code to open the door," you open the door surprised to see Harry.

"Hi," he blushed, "Uh someone let me in. I just thought I'd bring you something. Partly because I missed you and just wanted to see you again," he passed you a black plastic bag. Inside was a Rice Krispie Treat and 'Sam' written on it with black marker and Pringles with your name on it. You once told him you liked Pringles on one of your long facetime calls.

"Harry," you were speechless, it was so sweet what he had done.

"I probably shouldn't have come, this is an invasion of your privacy I'm sorry," he backed away.

"No no, its fine I'm just shocked. I never expected something like this. Come here," you put your hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed you back hard and wrapped his arm around your waist. "I'm so happy, and thankful, and lucky," you spoke in between kisses. He smiled down at you and kissed your forehead. You stepped back and put the bag on the side table near your entrance.

"I'd invite you in bu-" you observed his face go pale and eyes widen. He was looking behind you. You turned around and saw Sam standing there with wide eyes.

"Sam, what's wrong?" you ran to him and bent down to his level. He looked funny,

"I got sick ma," he said still staring at Harry in the hallway. You looked behind you at Harry and then back to Sam. He whispered in your ear, "I threw up in the toilet," you nodded.

"Okay, sit on the couch okay? I'll be there in a sec okay?" he nodded but didn't move.

"Hi Harry," he spoke. This isn't what you wanted or expected.

"Erm Hi Sam," he waved. Sam waved back before leaving to sit on the couch. You walked to your door, speechless.

"Love, I'm so sorry I know this isn't what you wanted. I didn't mean for this to happen," he rambled.

"It's okay, um come in? Might as well rip the bandaid off," you walked in and got a thermometer to take Sam's temperature. Harry walked behind you but stayed a comfortable distance away. Sam couldn’t take his eyes off him. You took Sam's temperature and he had a slight fever.

"I'm Sam,"

"I'm Harry,"

"We knew that about each other already," Sam giggled.

"We did," Harry giggled too. You were holding back a cringe as you watched them.

"He got you a rice krispie treat, say thank you," you whispered to him.

"Ooh thank you," his eyes lit up.

"Yeah no problem," he leaned against your wall.

"You're so far, sit next to me." Sam patted the seat next to him. Harry looked at you and you gave him a slight nod. He sat next to him and they stared at each other for a bit.

“You have drawings on your arms, marker?” Sam pointed out.

“Honey, wouldn’t you feel better in your own room?” You tried to steer away from the tattoo topic considering Harry had a half naked mermaid on his arm. Sam laughed at what you said like it was ridiculous.

“Ma, I won’t sleep now knowing Harry is here and I want to sleep in your bed tonight,” he pouted. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay fine. Only because you’re not feeling well. I’m gonna go get you medicine.” You got up.

“Harry stay with me,” you son put his tiny hand over his, “cool rings!” Was the last thing you heard before entering your kitchen. You called out of work and set an appointment with his doctor for the following day. When you came back to the living room him and Harry were playing rock, scissors, and shoot.

“Ma, look at this new game Harry taught me!” Harry gave you a dimpled smile before showing you.

“Very nice,” you observed, “here c’mon. Take your medicine, it’ll bring your fever down,” you served him on a teaspoon and he took it. He made a funny face before swallowing it.

“Medicine is so gross. Makes you want to throw up again,” you and Harry both laughed.

You sat on the other side of Sam and he quickly curled up to your side. You put the blanket over him and you and put your tv on. Harry observed you two and watched tv with you. Sam soon fell asleep again as you felt him drool onto your shirt.

“I’m going to go put him in my room,” you slowly stood up to not wake him.

“Let me help?” Harry asked. You nodded and he picked Sam up gently before following you into your room. You turned a lamp on so you two could see where you were walking. Harry gently put him on the middle of your bed and tucked him in. You climbed in on your side and pushed Sam’s hair back off his forehead. You gestured for Harry sit on the other side.

“If you want, you don’t have to,” you told him. He shook his head and climbed in on the other side.

“Thank you,” he said looking at you.

“For?” You questioned.

“Letting me get to know him. I know it wasn’t your plan for us to meet this way but thanks for not closing the door in my face.” He reached over Sam to put a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You look down back at Sam.

“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans,” you smiled. You hadn’t planned for them to meet like this but life happens.

“Beautiful boy,” he states.

“You know it?” You smirked.

“Course I know it, what kind of Brit would I be if I didn’t know a Lennon song?” He laughed lowly.

“Michael would sing it to him to put him to sleep. After he passed I just changed 'daddy' lyric to Mami,” you explained.

“My mum used to do the same thing,” he smiled at the memory.

“Her and I can relate on being boy moms then,” you smiled.

“I don’t think I want her to talk about me to you,” he grinned.

“Oh no, I want to hear it all,” you leaned against your hand. You two were facing each other with your son between you two.

“He’s a good kid, very social. He started asking me about my rings and where I got them,” he smiled.

“He’s nosey,” you lightly tapped Sam’s nose earning a smile from him in his sleep. Harry laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

“I didn’t mind it,” he plays with a loose thread on your blanket.

You three eventually all fell asleep in a big cuddle. When you wake up you feel Sam's small head on your stomach, Harry's forehead against yours, and all of your legs tangled together. You opened your eyes slowly and smiled. You felt like a family, finally complete.

"Mornin'," you heard Harry's deep voice say.

"Hey," you looked at him pulling your forehead away. He leaned over and gave you a quick peck.

"Sorry I fell asleep here," he says before placing his head back against the pillow.

"It's okay, I enjoy seeing your face first thing in the morning," you smiled.

"I like this a lot to be honest with you," he looked between you and Sam.

"I do too," you bit your lip. So much had happened between you two in just a few days. Sam stirred between you two.

"Could I cook you two breakfast?" he offered. You nodded and ran your hands through Sam's hair. He was warm again.

"What's his favorite?"

"Waffles," you smiled.

"Could I use your bathroom?"

"Of course, spare toothbrush in the hallway closet." you told him. He nodded and walked to your bathroom.

You escaped to your thoughts of how you could get used to this.

♡♡♡

Breakfast was a success. Harry and Sam got along well and you were happy. Harry left to go to work before you went to Sam's doctor. Doctor's appointment was unsuccessful. "Probably just a bug," they said. Matt had texted you and you explained what was going on with Sam. He assured you he didn’t mind and he'd bring you some food and some light food for Sam. When he showed up at your door, he had soup for Sam and chowder for you. You all shared a meal together and watched a movie. This was something similar to what you guys did years ago. It was close to night and Sam had went off to bed before Matt left. You took out two beers for you to share and sat next to him.

"Cheers," he clinked your bottle.

"Cheers," you took a sip.

"It's good to be home," he sighed relaxing back onto your couch.

"It's good to have you home," you leaned against your cushions.

"I don't think I'm going back," you looked over at him.

"What? What do you mean?" you were a little shocked.

"My active duty commitment is up, I could take another mission if I wanted to but I think its time for me to settle down," he took a swig of his beer. You nodded in understanding.

"I think that'd be great, if it were for me I wouldn't want anyone out there," you faced him on the couch.

"Yeah," he brought his arm that was behind his head and slapped it down to your knee, "So! Tell me more about this Harry guy," he grinned looking at you.

"Ow," you hit him back, "And what do you wanna know?" you blushed.

"Everything?" he said in a girly voice making you laugh.

"Well, we met at the bar across the street and we basically spoke every night then every day and night and yeah we just got to know each other well. And yeah you know it's been nice. To have someone again," you took another sup of your beer. Matt nodded in understanding.

"I'm happy you're happy, I know he would've wanted that." he reached for your hand and squeezed it.

"Yeah I know, we spoke about it once..." you wandered off.

"Us too," Matt looked up towards the ceiling.

"I figured you made some kind of promise, the way you treated me after he passed. It was very promise like."

"I would've done it, promise or no promise." he looks back at you.

"I know, thank you. Could never say that enough."

"You don’t have to," he squeezed your hand again. You laid your head on his shoulder. You were so happy to have Matt in your life. It was like another piece of having Michael around. You didn't have a brother either. So he fit perfectly into your life.

"I miss him," matt spoke up.

"Me too," a tear escaped.

"I can hear him laughing at us, saying 'you two are pathetic'," he laughed, "But then you'd probably give him a look and he'd say, 'oh not you, just matt," you laughed along and finished off your beer.

"You're right," you bit your lip, "Harry's somehow helped me say his name more comfortably,"

"I've noticed, that's great." he smiled.

You spent the rest of the night catching up and setting up a profile for Matt on Bumble. He was embarrassed at first but then became excited. He liked that girls had to match first, he didn't want to make any girls uncomfortable. He left and you caught some sleep before your day of work, it was going to be long.

♡♡♡  

ONE MONTH LATER

It was Saturday morning and you awoke with Harry leaving your bed. He was staying over more often per Sam's request. He enjoyed waking up and jumping into your bed and telling you his crazy dreams or hearing the dreams you two had. You enjoyed not falling asleep alone anymore. This morning though you awoke to Harry leaving because he liked to take a run and then make breakfast or pick some up on his way back. You opened your eyes slightly and you saw him moving around in front of your dresser. He put a headband on to push his curls back and put his sweatshirt on. He was wearing tights underneath some basketball shorts as well.

"Cute," you giggled. He turned around quickly and smiled.

"Morning love," he walked over to your side of the bed and kissed your lips.

"Mmm, don't go," you pouted.

"Okay," he kissed you again.

"No I'm joking, I'd feel guilty if I held you back," you giggled as you twirled a curl of his around your finger.

"I'll be quick, promise," he pecked your lips and stood up.

"Please keep your music low, be safe please." he walked back over and slotted a kiss on your lips.

"Of course baby," he said before he walked out your bedroom door. You stayed in bed until he got back. You usually never fall back asleep as you worried for him. He'd only go on a run every other day. When he got back you were on your phone scrolling through social media. Harry had posted a picture of you two last night. He already had a highlight called "Sam doing cool stuff" and it was adorable. He came over and gave you a quick peck before hopping in the shower quickly. He dropped off his phone on your night table as he kissed you and left it there. You noticed he was getting a lot of notifications back to back. You didn’t want to be nosey but you two also established you had nothing to hide from each other. You checked his phone and noticed they were all notifications from the Zillow app. They were all price drops on houses. Harry came back into your room as you looked at his phone. You tried to toss it away from you before he noticed but it was too late.

"Everything okay love?" he said with a wide grin on his face. He was only wearing a towel around his waist.

"Uh um are you moving?" you mumbled.

"No? why?" he looked confused.

"You got a lot of notifications so I just checked and it was price drops on Zillow,"

"Oh, uh yeah. Um," he sat next to you on your bed, "I was just looking at the market because uh like for us."

"For us?"

"Yeah, I would like us to move in together eventually. I've just been looking at houses for like 4 rooms and backyard and stuff," he was blushing and fiddling with his fingers.

"That's so sweet," you smashed your lips onto his. He fell on top of you on your bed.

"I want to wake up to you," he brushed his lips against yours. You felt heat spread in between your legs as he worked his way down your neck. You felt him grow hard through his towel.

"Harry," you moaned in his ear.

"You up for it?" he looked at you and you nodded quickly. He lifted your shirt and sucked your nipples giving both equal attention. He reached a hand down in between your legs into your shorts. He groaned into your mouth,

"So wet, so good for me," he said before biting your bottom lip. Your eyes fluttered closed as he inserted a finger into you. Then you remembered.

"Fuck, Harry," you whined. He didn’t pay you mind thinking it was a satisfied moan. You pushed at his chest.

"What happened?" he looked at you with concerned eyes.

"I ran out of condoms and haven't gone to get any, do you have?"

"Ugh no," he put his head in the crook of your neck.

"Ugh, damn it," you bit your lip.

"Don't do that," he took his thumb and separated your teeth from your lip, "It's only going to turn me on more," you laughed lightly.

"Harry, how um are you good at you know? Like um-"

"Pulling out?" he cut you off.

"Yeah,"

"Yeah, pretty good" he smirked.  

"You want to?"

"You do?" he said a little more shocked.

"I want you so bad," you said before planting your lips on his. He climbed back on top of you and pulled your shorts and underwear down. He rubbed a finger between your slit and you bucked your hips against his finger. He took this as a sign of your impatience growing. He removed his hand and instead lined himself up at your entrance. He pushed inside of you slowly both of you moaning in each others mouths.

"Fuck, ugh you're so warm and tight," he kissed you. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to concentrate on not cumming so soon.

"I love feeling you against me," you pushed his hips closer against you. When he bottomed out you both moaned lowly. He thrusted in and out of you slowly but eventually he picked up his pace. He groaned as his thrusts became sloppier.

"Love, you almost there?" he put his hand behind your neck before kissing you roughly. Barely letting you answer.

"Yes," you breathed out. He reached down in between you two and rubbed your clit. You felt the tightness grow in your stomach and you tightened around him as you came. Your legs were wrapped around his hips so he roughly pulled your legs apart before spilling himself all over your slit.

"Fucking hell," he moaned, "that was too good." he kissed your lips and then your neck.

"I'm on a high excuse me," you grinned. He smirked and got off you. He picked up his towel he had previously wrapped around himself and wiped in between your legs. This wouldn't be the last time he would do this over the next few weeks.

"Thank you," you blushed.

"Yeah of course," when he finished he got you dressed and himself. Sam was bound to wake up soon. "I'm going to go make some breakfast, any requests?"

"Hm, I'm craving a tuna sandwich," he scrunched his nose but nodded and went to make you your food. ♡♡♡

It was a few weeks later and you were sick. Sam was in school and Harry had taken his work to your place to take care of you. You were laying in bed while he was reading a manuscript. You had a terrible bug that wouldn’t let you hold any food down. You had never felt this way before. Harry continued making you soups and stews even though your appetite was low. You were surviving on ginger ale and saltines for most of your days. You watched as Harry worked and the way he concentrated on what he was reading.

"Any good?" he jumped slightly.

"Hey you're up," he pushed your hair away from your face.

"Hi," you smiled, "I have to get Sam,"

"I was going to pick him up,"

"It's okay, I need fresh air."

"We can both go?"

"Okay," he reached over your bedside table and got you your Gatorade bottle.

"Drink, you look dehydrated."

"Okay, dad." you narrowed your eyes at him and sipped.

"I'm just taking care of my baby,"

"I know,"

You two eventually got up to go pick up Sam. You told Harry to drop you off at the drug store at the corner of your street afterwards to pick up some pads. But you lied. You were late and scared. You never had morning sickness before but now you couldn’t help but think it. You bought a small test, one where you had to pee in a cup and use a dropper. It was the only thing that would fit in your back pocket. You got back in the car and Harry gave you a look.

"Um, they didn’t have the ones I like,"

"I'll go to Walgreens later and pick some up," you nodded as he drove you all home. Sam told you about his day at school. You told Harry you were going to use the bathroom once you got inside to your apartment. You assured him you were okay and he told you he'd make a snack for Sam while helping him with his homework. You headed inside your bathroom and realized you forgot a cup. You reached into the cabinet below your sink and got a disposable dixie cup you usually use for mouthwash. You peed in the cup and got the dropper. You placed a drop on the test and waited three minutes before looking. You were sitting on the toilet lid when Harry knocked on your door.

"Love, you okay?"

"Yeah! Coming out now!" you washed your hands and wrapped the test in toilet paper before looking at it, shoved into your back pocket, and stepped out.

You enjoyed your night with them. Forcing yourself to eat and try and feel better. You tried to keep a mind over matter mindset. You read Sam a book before bed and squeeze him tight before finding out if everything is going to change. You walk back to your room and Harry's already getting ready for a shower. He walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Feeling better baby?" he kissed your nose.

"A little, um stomach is funny," he nodded as he listened. He moved his hands down to your ass but you pulled away suddenly before he could feel the test in your pocket.

"Love?" he looked at you confused,

"Uh sorry, just not in that mood," you ran your fingers through your hair.

"I wasn't expecting you to be, just wanted to give it a little squeeze. But I'm sorry love, I know you're not feeling well," he kissed your head.

"Yeah it's okay uh sorry I pulled away like that," he nodded.

"I think I'm gonna go shower alright?" you nodded. He left and you pulled the test out and unwrapped the toilet paper. Your door opened back up and you jumped.

"Forgot my towe- what's that?" he looked at you confused.

"Crap," you put your head in your hand. "I thought this bug could be morning sickness or something. I've never had it but I'm also late."

"W-what? What's it say?"

"I-I don't know yet. I haven't looked."

"Why not?" he was pale and his forehead was already glistening with sweat.

"I'm scared," you choked out.

"Love," he rushed to you and kneeled in between your legs, "I'm not going anywhere no matter what that test says. I love you, you know that. You and Sam are my family now. I don't care that we haven't been together that long. I already know I want this for a long time." he picked your head up in between your hands. You mumbled an okay. You began unwrapping the paper and you both looked at it at the same time.

"Look for two lines?"

"Yeah, that'd be positive" you revealed the test and took a deep breath. One line was dark and the other was not. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed. You tossed it on to your bedside table and sighed.

"I still meant everything I said," Harry spoke.

"I feel the same way Har, I just have a lot of feelings and thoughts going through my mind. Could I have a second?" he nodded and left to the bathroom to take his shower. You felt weird. Like you wanted a positive test but also like you couldn't accept one. Everything felt so fast. Being pregnant felt so far from now, yet it also felt crazy to start all over again. Harry came back to find you with your arm across your eyes while you leaned against your pillows. He walked over to your bedside table to turn your lamp off but when he saw the test again he froze.

"L-love, love!" you jumped at his raised voice.

"What Harry?" you asked worried.

"The test! It changed! There's two lines now!" he grabbed it and looked at it.

"That's impossible," you stood up to look at it with him. Sure enough there were two lines. The other faint yet there.

"I'm so confused," you breathed.

"I'm going to Walgreens to get a digital one I can't not be certain for tonight." he kissed you before he left and yelled an I love you before walking out the door. He seemed excited with hints of anxiety. You didn’t know what to feel. You two had been together for only a few months, still learning about each other. You paced the floor back and forth until he got back.

"Love?" he called from the hallway before entering your room, "I got this Clearblue one, I see a lot of celebrities use them,"

"Oh okay," you took the box in your hand.

"Hey, what'd you feel after we saw the negative test?" he reached for your hand and squeezed it.

"I don't know honestly, it's scary to start all over again. We're just starting ourselves," you looked down.

"I understand, I'm going to be here though, no matter what," he pulled you in for a hug, "I'd like to be happy about it if its positive."

"Me too," you whispered.

"Feel like peeing?" he laughed lightly.

"Sure," you laughed too.

You walked to your bathroom and Harry followed. You sat down and waited a bit until you were able to take the test. Harry helped you with putting the cap on and you finished taking care of yourself.

"I can only imagine what everyone's going to say," you run a hand through your hair.

"Love, it shouldn't matter. We are the only one's who thoughts should matter." he cupped your cheeks, "Oh and Sam of course," he quickly added. You giggled and nodded.

"You're cute," you kissed his lips.

"Thank you, let's check it?"

"Yeah," you smiled.

♡♡♡

What do you guys think it is??

[gentlethorns]

1-31

JKJFLKJGDKLS did you mean. 1 through 31?? like. all of them?? LMFAOOOOOO okay but i’m sticking them under a readmore bc that is gonna be SO long

1. what is a genre you love reading but will probably never write? mysteries/crime. i love the technique and expertise it takes to expertly lay out and set up a plot twist, but i don’t think i could ever do it aptly myself.

2. which writer has had the greatest stylistic influence on your writing? probably stephen king, if we’re talking fiction, but even then i don’t think he’s influenced me a ton - my writing voice is pretty distinctive (or so i’ve been told). as far as poetry, i think reading @candiedspit‘s work has really caused me to stretch my expectations of where words can go and what they can do.

3. has a specific song/lyric ever inspired a work of art for you? absolutely! i’m super inspired by music, bc music is really important to me as a means of emotional expression. back in sophomore year of high school i was working on a story where all the chapters were inspired by songs from folie a deux by fall out boy. it didn’t pan out and i never finished it, but i still think the concept was neat.

4. a writer whose personal lifestyle really speaks to you? lmfao not to talk about him again, but stephen king’s lifestyle really appeals to me. his writing is widely known and renowned, but he just chills at home and watches the red sox games and takes pictures of his corgi and keeps turning out stories. that literally sounds like paradise to me.

5. do you write both prose and poetry? which do you prefer? i do write both! and i can’t say i honestly prefer one over the other - my interest bounces between them and waxes and wanes, but i don’t consistently indulge one more than the other, i don’t think. last year i went through a huge fiction phase in october and cranked out eight or nine different short stories/flash pieces, and then in november/december i went through a poetry phase and wrote multiple poems a day for a long stretch of time. it just depends on my mood and my mindset and what i need from writing (a kind of escape vs. emotional expression/release).

6. do you read both prose and poetry? which do you prefer? i do read both, and again, i don’t think i have a preference. i definitely read fiction more, i think, but like writing, it kind of depends what i need at the time.

7. which language do you write in? which do you want to write in someday? i write in english, since it’s the only language i know. i’d like to learn spanish at some point, but i don’t know if i could ever write in spanish - i’m so firmly married to english grammar and structure that i don’t know if i could ever exercise the same control and mastery over spanish that i could english.

8. share a quote or verse that has been on your mind lately. “you said i killed you - haunt me, then!” from wuthering heights.

9. a writer/poet whose life you find interesting. *sigh*. stephen king. i’ve read his memoir/writing workshop book (”on writing”) and his success story always fascinates me. i just can’t imagine living in a shitty one-bedroom apartment with your wife and two kids and working days at an industrial laundromat and spending nights writing on a shitty wobbly desk in the laundry room, and you get your first manuscript accepted for publication, and eventually the paperback rights go up and you think you might get $60,000 if you’re really lucky, and then one day while your wife and kids are visiting the in-laws you get a call from your agent telling you that the paperback rights for your book sold for $400,000 and 200K of it is yours. that’s just literally. unfathomable to me lmfao.

10. what do you feel about the idea of someone unearthing your unseen or discarded drafts someday, long after your death? what about your personal journal? it’s really hard for me to imagine that happening, i think bc i tend to see myself as really like. insignificant or unimportant in the grand scheme of things, so i can’t imagine any part of me lasting beyond my life. also, it’s very hard for me to imagine someone i don’t know personally reading my work, probably because my work (especially a personal journal) is a window into me, and i have a hard time even letting people i trust see into that window sometimes, much less a stranger.

11. do you prefer to write in silence or listen to something? what do you listen to? i definitely prefer music in the background, although i can work in silence. i tend to gravitate to music that goes with the scene i’m writing, if i’m writing fiction (often i work music into my fiction, so if there’s a song playing in the scene, i’ll listen to that song), and if i’m writing poetry i tend to just listen to laid-back music (unless i’m writing from a place of grief or sadness, in which case i listen to sad music lmfao). i do also love writing when it’s storming outside and just listening to the rain and the thunder as i write.

12. has an image ever impacted your artistic lens/inspired your work? absolutely! less often than music, but visuals can inspire me on occasion. i once wrote a poem based on this image. i just couldn’t get it out of my head, so i decided to figure out what it was saying to me.

13. how would you describe the experience of writing itself? as in putting the words to paper, not planning or moodboards etc. do you agree with the common idea that the satisfaction lies in reading your work after you are done with it, rather than the process of writing itself? i think the process can be arduous sometimes, and other times it can be incredible. sometimes i write very slowly and haltingly, sometimes i write at a normal pace and it feels like the work it is (bc i am trying to write professionally), but sometimes the magic tap in the mind turns on and it starts flowing. that being said, i don’t necessarily agree that the satisfaction lies only in reading your work rather than also in the process. there’s a certain fulfillment in watching everything come together and knowing it’s going to be good.

14. how often do you write? it varies. i would like to write more often than i do, now that i have a full-time school schedule and work part time friday-sunday, but i think i still get a decent amount of writing done, when i can actually sit down and motivate myself to get the words out.

15. how disciplined are you about your writing? not very, in the creative sense - as discussed above, i don’t write as often as i should/would like to, and don’t hold myself to much of a schedule. however, as far as the business side of it (submitting to magazines/contests), i’m pretty disciplined, and i’m usually pretty good about keeping all my “good” pieces in circulation at a couple of places at a time.

16. what was your last long-lasting spurt of motivation? maybe last night? i worked on a couple of pieces and then submitted a few groups of poems to some magazines. i also did some decent work on thursday while i was in my campus starbucks waiting for my zoom class to start.

17. have you ever been professionally published? are you trying to be? i have been professionally published! i got my first acceptance back in 2018, and now i’ve had poetry published multiple times and fiction published twice. i’m still trying to publish more of my work, but i think i’ve had a decent start.

18. do you read literary magazines? not regularly, although i entered a fiction contest for into the void last year, and since it came with a year-long subscription, i’ve been browsing the fiction there periodically. into the void tends to publish good short/flash fiction, so anytime i feel like reading some new stories, i head there.

19. a lesser known writer you adore? idk if she’s necessarily “lesser-known,” but i loved ally carter’s gallagher girl series when i was younger. the first four books were immaculate (although i do remember that the last two books seemed almost unnecessary, and the ultimate end of the series was anticlimactic).

20. do you write short stories? do you read them? i write and read them! up until october of last year i could never figure out how to write a short story and effectively resolve a conflict in 5000 words or less, but then suddenly (like. literally overnight), a switch flipped in my head and i could do it. as far as reading them, i don’t read a ton anymore bc of my busy schedule ( :( ), so sometimes if i’m in the mood to read i’ll opt for a short story online or a book of short stories instead of a full-length novel.

21. do you prefer to involve yourself with literary history and movements or are you more focused on the writing itself? any favourite literary movements? i’m typically more focused on the writing itself, although i do love to learn about the horror boom from the 50s-80s (if that counts as a literary movement lmfao). i also do particularly love work from the era of deconstructionism, which i think took place in like. the 40s-60s, if i’m not mistaken. i enjoy that era bc of its symbolism and abstract nature - a lot of the work leaves the reader to draw their own conclusions.

22. are you working on anything right now? not particularly? i have a few works in progress that i tinker with now and then, but i’m not seriously working on anything in particular.

23. how did you get started with writing? i honestly don’t even remember. i remember the first time i realized that i really liked writing and had fun doing it (in fourth grade, for a school competition), but i know that even before then i was writing stories and poems.

24. do you have any “writer friends”? most of my mutuals are writer friends! but i don’t have any irl. i almost made one in my math class last semester, but we lost contact when our university shut down in march.

25. what is your earliest work you can remember? the earliest work i can remember is when i was really young (maybe like. five or six?). it was about our dog being pregnant (which she was at the time) and able to talk (which she was not).

26. have you found your writer’s voice yet? does your work have a distinct tone? absolutely. i’m very confident in my style and the distinctiveness of my voice - it’s been there pretty much since i first started writing. i’ve improved since then, honed my voice and made it more sophisticated and effective, but at the core, it’s still me, like it always has been.

27. do your works share themes/are commonly about certain topics? or are your subjects all over the place? in poetry, i think i tend to write about grief or loss of some sort or another often, bc it’s something i tend to feel often - either that or a false bravado (but ig that’s more of a tonal device). as far as fiction, i like to write about religion gone wrong (false religion, religion as a front for personal gain and corruption, religion gone too deep into obsession and mania, etc.), and i like smart underdog-type characters that fight and have a lot of grit to them.

28. what does writing mean to you? to me, writing is catharsis, a bloodletting. this particularly applies to poetry, but it also applies to fiction. poetry shows you the things you’re regurgitating up-front, but fiction does it slyly, in a mirror or through a distorting lens. regardless, both stand to offer release and healing.

29. in an alternate universe, imagine you had not found writing. what do you think would be your fixation otherwise? honestly, i’m not sure. probably acting or theater. something creative, for sure.

30. do you feel defined by your work? maybe a little, but not to a large or limiting extent. like, in a new class, my interesting fact about myself will probably always be “i’m a writer and i’ve been published a few times,” but i think that i’m a well-rounded person and that once people get to know me, my writing is just a part of me, not my whole identity.

31. have you ever written/considered writing under a pen name? if you would be okay saying, why? no, i don’t think i have. while a pen name can be a good tool, depending on your goals and what you’re writing, i have a Thing about getting credit where i’m due credit lmfao. i don’t think i’ll ever use a pen name bc if i know something i do is good, i want my name on it.

[stateofloveandnegan]

Eighteen Years II - Richard Madden

this is a little short than usual, but I like it the way it is and didn’t want to continue and maybe mess it up. enjoy!

Requested by: no one

Warning(s): none

Masterlist

Part one / Part two

Tomorrow comes much quicker than I expected. Richard and I decided that instead of going out, we’d have dinner at his place in London. It’s about 3:30pm now and I’ve got to be at the train station at 4:15pm.

As I’m looking at all the clothes in my wardrobe, I suddenly feel like none of my clothes are nice enough anymore. Eventually, when I realise I’m running out of time, I settle with a nice black dress. It’s knee-length and has nice long sleeves, since it isn’t that warm outside. After applying a little bit of make-up, I nod at myself in the mirror, somewhat happy with the result.

The train journey to London is longer than I thought it’d be, especially because every minute, my nerves grow a little bigger. I have absolutely no idea why, because Richard used to be my best friend and I never really cared about how I looked around him, but tonight I want to impress him. I want him to look at me and think ‘wow’.

After what feels like an entire day, I make it to the underground station Richard told me to go to, and when I walk up the stairs and into the streets, I quickly catch sight of Richard. He almost immediately spots me as well and makes his way over to me. “Hey, you.” He smiles and kisses my cheeks before pulling me in for a quick hug.

“Hey,” I smile and hug him tightly before pulling back, taking the sight of him in. He’s wearing black slacks and a white shirt that fits him oh so well. On top of it, he’s wearing a denim jacket and I literally feel my knees weaken at the sight of him.

Behind my knowledge, Richard feels the exact same. He subtly looks me up and down and his breath catches in his throat. Once he catches himself staring at me, he quickly recollects himself, a blush entering his face. He’s glad that he’s grown a bit of a beard, because that covers the blush at least a little. “Let’s go.” He smiles, holding his arm out. I slide my arm happily through his and he leads us both to his place.

“Did you have an okay trip?” Richard asks once we’re inside his house. It’s a really nice place, the decoration and style of the house just screams Richard, and it’s amazing. It’s the first time I’m here and it already feels a bit like home.

I smile at Rich as he takes my jacket and hangs it up for me, “Yeah, it was alright. Though, it did feel like it took me ages to get here.”

Richard chuckles and to my surprise, he holds his hand out for me. His eyes shine as he looks into mine. I blush lightly and take his offered hand.

Once he’s holding my hand, he gently pulls me with him further into the house. First showing me around the living room, then the kitchen, and last but certainly not least: the dining area. My eyes widen and my mouth falls slightly agape when I see all that Richard’s done.

There are candles lit around the room and the light is very dimmed, but light enough so you’ll be able to see what you’re doing. The dining table is made beautifully; the table has a very nice tablecloth, there’s a beautiful vase with a rose in it, there are some candles, and by the plates, there are two glasses of wine, a fancy-looking bottle placed on the table as well.

My eyes move from the table to Richard, who seems to be a little nervous for my reaction. A big smile enters my face, and I softly ask. “You did all this just for tonight?”

Richard nods sheepishly, a blush creeping up on his face. “I thought it’d only be suitable for a date.”

My eyes light up and I lean up on my toes to kiss his cheek, “It’s wonderful, perfect for our date.”

A relieved look enters Richard’s face, he’s glad I’m not angry about him assuming this would be a date; he wasn’t sure if I felt the same about it.

I walk over to the table, and before I can pull the chair back for myself, Richard is by my side, once again being a real gentleman. He pulls the chair back for me and smiles sheepishly, “Milady.”

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” I chuckle softly, as does Richard. “I’m gonna get the food, I’ll be right back.”

Not much later, Rich and I are sat across from each other, enjoying a very lovely meal he made all by himself. I knew Richard always loved to bake and help his mum cook, but he’s gotten really good at it now that he’s older! If he weren’t an actor, I bet he could be a great cook.

We finish eating after a little while, and Richard takes me to the living area, so we can take a comfortable seat on the sofa while enjoying being around one another.

“I take it you’re not seeing someone?” his voice speaks a little unsurely. I simply chuckle and shake my head, “I wouldn’t be here, on a date with you, if I was.”

Soft laughter fills the room and Richard moves one of his hands towards mine and gently rests it on top of it. I lace my fingers through his, and we gaze into each other’s eyes. “You’ve always had a special place in my heart, you know that?” I tell him and confusion enters his face; I chuckle softly.

“Remember when that kid Graham always used to say that I was too pretty for you?” Richard nods, a little annoyed by the memory of his bully. “How wrong was he.” I continue and softly squeeze his hand. “I’ve always found you attractive, Dickie.” I wink playfully, using the nickname his mother used to use for him.

Richard playfully grimaces at the nickname, but a fond smile grows on his face. He moves a little closer to me, his face inches away from mine. My eyes are fixed on his, while his slowly move down to my lips.

“I really want to kiss you, (Y/N).” his voice is much lower than before, yet it’s still gentler than anything else. A blush covers my cheeks and I use my free hand to guide his face more to mine, “You’re very welcome to do so.”

Richard doesn’t need to be told twice, he moves forward and closes the gap between us, brushing his lips against mine before kissing me properly. The stubble around his lips tickles a little, and a smile etches onto my face.

My hand moves from his cheek to the back of his neck and my fingers begin to play with the tiny curls there. All while his hand makes its way onto my face, keeping me in place so he can deepen the kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that for as long as I can remember.” He speaks, out of breath, once we break apart. Our foreheads are resting against each other, Richard’s hand still on my face. “That makes two of us.”

After some more kissing and cuddling, it’s time for me to go home. It’s not that I want to go, but I literally need to go now if I want to catch the last train back to Oxford. Richard, being the sweetheart he is, walks me back to the underground station. We’re walking hand in hand, probably looking like two teenagers in love, occasionally nudging each other and stealing kisses from each other.

“When will I see you again?” he asks as we reach the underground. I think for a moment, “Soon. We’ll stay in contact, yeah? Then we can make some new plans.”

Richard smiles and nods, leaning in for another kiss. “Text or call me when you get home, okay?”

A big, happy smile enters my face and I nod, “Of course.” Before I turn around, Richard kisses me one last time, “Good night, beautiful. I’ll see you soon.”

I blush at his words, pecking his lips for the very last time that night, “Good night, handsome. See you soon.”

[onstarsandiron]

Might As Well Face It, You’re Addicted To Love: Chapter 5

Ooooooh we’re almost there!! First, though, meet the gang. 

AO3 link here

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 [here] / ?

Jax

Jax sighed in satisfaction as he finally finished drying his hair. The upkeep was obnoxious, but you couldn’t argue with the results; few others could lay claim to a meter of silver hair. It felt nice to be showered, dried, and in fresh clothes. He could finally find some peace.

“Jax! Hurry up!” Ana called, banging on his door. Jax sighed again. Oh well, peace was overrated anyway.

“I’m coming!” He yelled back. Easy for her to rush him with a puppy following her around and helping her get ready. Jax tied his hair into a quick ponytail and grabbed the duffel of show-prep stuff he’d pre-packed.

He opened his door to find Di hurrying down the hallway saying, “Ana, you did not let me finish!” Maybe calling Di a puppy was harsh, but he wouldn’t if he didn’t look at Ana with those big old eyes of his.

Jax followed them down the hall and a set of stairs into the kitchen. Ana stood still for once in her life – as still as she could, anyway, a toe tapping away to some unheard song – as Di finished her braid. Ana wore her black hair in a long braid down the middle of her head, the rest of it shaved. She said it was because it was punk, but Jax knew it was for convenience’s sake. She had golden-brown eyes set into a heart-shaped face and warm bronze skin. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, which was typically a sign of either a show or trouble. Sometimes both.

Di stood behind her being the physical embodiment of all the patience Ana lacked as he carefully finished off her braid. He was pale and tall, recently grown from being gangly to actually fitting his height. His blood-red hair was currently tied in a knot, but it typically had a mind of its own, falling down around his sharp face. Paired with his dark brows and dark eyes he had a very serious look to him, but Jax had seen him cry over a video of a small robot being, “too cute,” so his reputation in that area was ruined already.

Riggs and Wick were playing a game of cards at the kitchen table. They were on the older side and rarely came to gigs – Wick’s hearing was bad enough anyway, and if Wick wasn’t going neither was Riggs – but they both always saw them off and welcomed them home. Riggs was gruff and permanently skinny with scratchy gray stubble decorating his chin. He had lost his family and his leg in a bad accident a long time ago. Once or twice he’d shown Jax a picture of his family he kept on a locket, two happy looking kids, a beautiful wife, and him. Jax didn’t know nearly as much history about Wick, dark brown skin saggy in that way old men got with gray dreadlocks pulled into a ponytail behind him, but he had all sorts of tall tales to tell and was the one to teach him guitar, so really what other history could matter?

Talle, short with black, pixie cut hair, was cleaning up some pots and pans at the sink. She wasn’t as old as Riggs and Wick, but she did have the start of crows’ feet and smile lines etched into her face.  “Hey, Jax!” she called, then pointed to a stack of plastic Tupperware in bags that held their dinners for the evening, “Can you take these out to the van?”

“Sure thing,” Jax answered, securing his duffel on his shoulder so he could hold the bags in his hands.

He was about to consider how to juggle the bags and the approaching door when the door opened itself, or rather Lenda opened it from the other side. She was a couple years older than him and squarely built with old scars from time spent in fighting rings adorning her arms like trophies well-won. Her brownish-blonde hair hung around shoulder length and framed her narrow brown eyes, and her skin was tawny with rose undertones.

“Oh, hey, let me take one of those for you,” she offered, and Jax handed her one of the bags in his hands. Before heading back out she called into the kitchen, “Hey, Ana! Siege says that if you want your drum kit, you better come and put it in the van yourself!”

“Coming!” Ana said, and the three of them walked through to the open garage and the van parked outside it currently being loaded up.

“There you are, Sparkles!” Elara greeted. She was short and curvy with short-cropped silver hair in a style that on anyone else Jax would refer to as “soccer mom” but on her simply made her black-eyeliner-and-lipstick look more dramatic. Her wide eyes were violet, and her skin was apricot compared to Jax’s too-often-mistaken-as-a-ghost white. She was helping Xu, her partner, pack up some of the equipment. Xu was tall with high cheekbones, dark eyes, and tanned skin. They kept their black hair long and didn’t typically style it except when Elara would take it upon herself to braid it this way and that. They were a quiet person for the most part, which was good since Elara talked enough for the two of them.

“’Bout time you two beauty queens got yourselves down here,” Siege said. Siege wasn’t particularly tall, but she stood in a way that made you think she was. She filled a room and commanded respect wherever she went. Her eyes were a sharp stone-green and she wore her black curly hair large and filled with pieces wrapped in golden thread.

Siege’s job was not a topic to be discussed, but if it were to be discussed it may err a bit on the, as some might put it, illegitimate side of odd jobs. The house was largely a boarding house for her crew, a group that waxed and waned as needed. Riggs and Wick had been with her and Talle for forever, Lenda and Barger were newer additions, and there were plenty of people who had stayed for as little as a night and as long as years before moving on.

It was an interesting place to grow up, especially compared to Jax’s previous living arrangements, but he thought he, Ana, and Di came out no worse for it. After all, they’re all well fed, educated – Di was studying to be a doctor for goddess’ sake – and Siege and Talle have always been there when they needed them. Like when Ana decided she wanted to start a band; Siege may have sighed about it and certainly set some ground rules, but she never missed a show, let Ana use the van, and was the one to even get her the drum set in the first place.

“Sorry, Captain,” Jax said, getting his duffel and the food into the van and then going to help the others, “But you know my good looks are he only thing keeping the fans coming.”

“Ah, yes,” Di said dryly, having followed Ana out (definitely a puppy), “The throngs of fans shouting your name. Plus, all 13 of our Instagram followers.”

“53,” Xu corrected, being the one that actually did most of the managing of the account.

“Wow, is it actually that many?” Ana asked.

“Yes,” Xu answered, “With an average of 16.3 likes and 1.8 comments per post.”

That wasn’t very much. The band they were opening for had something like 20,000 followers and, you know, enough to fans to be able to justify holding their own concert with an opener. Ana didn’t believe in small milestones, though. Anything that was forward movement counted as victory in her book. That kind of aggressively positive outlook was a big part of what made this all work. If Jax was honest, had anyone else asked him to join a band he would have simply said no. When Ana asked, though, he couldn’t imagine letting someone else play guitar in his best friend’s band. He was certainly glad for it now; it was one of the only things he looks forward to anymore.

As he helped pack, Jax went through a mental checklist of everything. Once this was all done, Siege, Talle, Di, and Ana would take the van and he would drive Lenda, Elara, Xu, and Barger in a separate vehicle – turns out a drum set and audio equipment take up passenger space, go figure.

“Has anyone figured out where the fuck Barger is?” Jax asked. He’d almost forgotten about the irritable and irritating man.

“When’s the last time you saw the old fart?” Elara asked.

“I have not seen him in three days and 20-some hours, since practice on Monday,” Di answered, always so precise.

“Me neither,” Ana chipped in.

“I think I saw him like 2 AM Tuesday?” Lenda said, “I was just up for a glass of water, don’t remember it much.” Barger technically lived with them, but he kept odd hours and went out often, so it wasn’t unusual to not see him for a few days.

“Hasn’t been responsive to Talle or I,” Siege said, the look on her face serious, “I’ve called around. With any hope he’ll show up at the venue.”

Not answering when the captain called? Jax would not like to be in Barger’s shoes. The man better be dead, else he’ll be wishing he were soon.

At this point, it was a bit late to worry about Barger showing. They were lucky to get booked as an opener and would be stupid to give up this opportunity, even if their songs would sound off without a bass. Maybe Di could save their asses with his synths or something.

Whatever happened, though, Jax was determined to have a good time. He was going to go on stage, play with his friends, get some applause – even if it was simply polite applause – and this awful day and that awful boy and his awful boss would be behind him, completely forgotten.

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 [here] / ?

[bellsybuilds]

[Part 2 of the Truck Stops and Tribulations series (link)]

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The way home - chapter 4 (T rating and warnings will change)

Din Djarin, Paz Viz(s)la, Baby Yoda, Jack “Agent Whiskey” Daniels, Agent Ginger Ale (modern AU, all human, road trips, found family, family reunions)

Jack claps, bringing the child’s attention back to him. He smiles indulgently. “Come to Papi.”

“Don’t do that,” Din growls.

Ginger stares at the lines of text spilling down the length of her monitor and releases a heavy, trembling sigh. Her hands hover at the keyboard. Her vision is blurring and she's starting to feel light-headed from all the missed sleep of the night before.

After helping Jack with his after-hours family emergency, she had some personal things to address. And these things had a deadline.

A glance to the clock in the bottom right of her monitor has her heart jump with a shot of adrenaline. 6:50AM. Already? Sucking in another quick breath, she forces herself to release it over the count of four slow breaths. Again, in and out, even slower this time, counting to six. By the third slow exhale, she’s drawing air without the feeling of invisible weight on her collar.

The application is almost complete. She just needs to write the concluding remarks on her cover letter… and then get Jack to endorse her nomination to field agent.

Swallowing thickly, her fingers curl to loose fists.

"Ginger?"

She jumps from her chair and whirls, monitor shielded with her back, hands splayed wide.

From the doorway, Jack has poked his head through, an eyebrow raised in question. Ginger didn't hear the latch open. Freshly shaven and bare of his customary moustache, Jack doesn't look like himself. That's the point, though it's unsettling. Jack hasn’t been without it the entire time she’s known him.

This Fall will mark her seventh anniversary with Statesman as an analyst.

He frowns at her suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"Just--" Ginger waves a dismissive hand and hopes she's angling herself to block her work. Her cheeks heat with embarrassment. "Some personal admin."

"Well, finish it later and get moving. These halls will be busy soon and I don't want an audience."

Her heart skips a beat, chastised. "Right. Right, I'll--" She turns to quickly save and close her work, locking down her station.

Out in the hallway, they fall in step, Ginger moving quickly to keep up with Jack's longer stride. From the corner of her eye, she watches him draw the back of a self-conscious hand across his upper lip.

"It looks all right," she tries to encourage him, voice light.

His lip curls, grumbling. "I feel naked as a fresh baby's bottom."

"You look younger." Like a fresh recruit, but with broader shoulders.

Jack seems to agree because he sighs, pushing through a tight jaw, “That ain't a good thing, Ginger."

Leaving the secure wing and emerging onto the grounds, Ginger sharply inhales the cool blast of the dawn, eyes watering. Datapad clutched to her chest, she looks to the pale grey sky and sucks in a deeper breath, willing herself awake. The fresh air tastes cold and clean. She'll need all her senses for the task ahead.

Just a little bit of conceit: like a preliminary mission to demonstrate what she's capable of.

Entering the public buildings of the estate, she waits for Jack as he draws the door shut behind them. He always tried to be a gentleman… it’d be nice if he also didn’t yell so much.

Continuing on, Ginger has to clear her throat twice before she trusts her voice won't crack. The heated, recycled air feels almost too warm after the brief passage outside. "W-when we're done here, I could use your help with something."

Jack raises an eyebrow at her, the expression quickly slipping into his genial charm when they’re spotted by the front guards at reception. They both nod back in greeting. "All right," Jack's tone is dubious.

"Your endorsement, actually," she clarifies, throat tightening with sudden nervousness, and she keeps her eyes ahead as they turn the corridor to guest accommodation.

Up ahead, she can hear the tinkle of dishes and the soft murmur of chatter from the cafeteria.

Beside her, Jack has straightened his shoulders, expression drawn tight. After a long moment, he finally speaks, halting, "Look, darlin'--"

The flip of her stomach makes Ginger rush to interrupt, turning on him with a bright smile. "Just think about it! Wait here." She gestures to the storage closet as they approach. "And I'll go get him."

Marching away with the datapad tight against her side, she willfully blocks out any sigh or stray comment that might reach her ears. She doesn’t want to hear it right now. She can’t afford to. It's probably unbecoming of Statesman agents to run from potential criticism considering all the other things they would face in the field… but first, she has to get into the field. Right now, Jack is the only thing standing between her and a re-classification.

Nobody else at this site could possibly compete with her training or hours invested in the lab and as mission support. She knows this branch inside and out. She is the next best person equipped to protect its interests from the front lines. And she can do the job just as well as Jack.

One hurdle at a time.

Thankfully, none of the sparse crowd in the cafeteria give her a second glance. True to Jack’s assumption, the men she’s looking for are awake. Ginger spots them seated by the far wall, affording one of the best vantages of all the tables and counter of food assembly.

The two men are seated across from each other, emptied plates of breakfast before them, though she can see Din occupied with a smaller plate, pushing something around with his fork. On the chair beside him, the child sits with his legs splayed, blinking up at Din with more patience and curiosity than she has ever witnessed in a toddler not falling asleep. Barely eye level with the table in its over-large onesie, his tiny fingertips barely peek beyond his thick, padded sleeves and the brown collar bunching around his shoulders. These men either don’t know how to dress this child or are low on options.

Ginger has no place to judge.

Drawing closer, she catches the end of Din’s terse, “What the fuck are fairy lights?”

The taller man, Paz, turns his phone and, over Din’s shoulder, Ginger sees the portrait of a car’s front interior at night: small lights thread across the cloud grey roof of the cabin like softly haloed stars. One of the cords trails down the open passenger side window like a lead back to the real world from the dream of the whimsical refuge. At the photo’s lower end, someone is holding an unfolded map open to the camera’s eye: an invitation to adventure on the open road.

Din frowns, shaking his head and decisively spears another small portion of waffle. On the chair beside him, the child snaps to attention and bounces, gasping with excitement, small arms waving at the fork’s approach.

Despite Ginger’s exhaustion from the long night, a smile tugs at her mouth. What a beautiful child.

“Sit still,” Din orders, holding the fork hostage until the kid looks back into his face and splits into a pure, bright laugh at whatever he sees there.

Paz glances up from his phone, looking between them. A slow smile curves his mouth, small and private. His relaxed slouch is a far leap from the hostile bodyguard who towered over Ginger last night, shoulders squared, suspicious and domineering. He only cracked in the moment the baby cried at the sight of the needle. If they had met under different circumstances, Ginger would have even called him handsome with his plaid lumberjack sense of style.

“I think he would like them,” Paz is encouraging, appraising the photo again.

“We don’t need it.”

“They’re free.”

“From where?”

Ginger finally clears her throat and holds her datapad against her side, smiling with an apologetic shrug when they both sit back, looking up at her. Jack’s brother nods politely in greeting. Under his worn cap, Din’s eyes look heavy and red-rimmed, shadowed with the faint bruise of exhaustion. Maybe Ginger isn’t the only one who lost sleep last night.

Across from him, Paz looks spry by comparison. He’s not wearing his cap this morning, and his dark hair gleams wet from a recent shower. But something subtle has shifted in his expression. The soft smile has slipped away. His gaze narrows and he straightens in his chair. This one will be watching her.

At their mutual, undivided attention, her mouth is suddenly dry.

“Good morning,” she says.

The kid catches the neck of Din’s fork and hums when he retreats with his prize of waffles, eyes crinkled happily. A drip of maple syrup escapes from the corner of his mouth.

Ginger has to resist the impulse to lean over and wipe it away.

Paz does it for her, reaching across the table to thumb it from the kid’s cheek and wipe his finger on the napkin by Din’s plate. The kid doesn’t miss a beat, already rising in his seat to reach for more of the dissected waffle from Din’s plate.

“Morning,” Din says it like a sigh, and Ginger feels that weary sentiment in her bones. She doesn’t take it personally. “Ginger, right?”

“Agent Ginger Ale,” she corrects, then nodding, “Ginger is fine.” At least she hasn’t left an impression as the scary woman with the needle.

“Good morning,” Paz echoes, tone surprisingly bright. For some reason, Din frowns at him.

“I hope you both had a chance to try their hash browns,” Ginger says, glancing back at the food counter and the few staff milling around this early in the morning, easily distinguishable by the IDs dangling from their lapels. “They’re my favourite.”

Din’s arms fold on the table before him, gently closing around his elbows. The child frowns when the gesture pushes the waffle plate farther from his reach. Stepping carefully along his seat and holding onto the table’s edge for balance, the child tries again, eyes narrowed in intense concentration. From across the table, Paz watches, mouth curving with a fond, amused quirk.

With a glance at the counter, Din nods. “The food was fine.”

She flashes a quick smile at him again and hopes it doesn’t tremble. Small talk isn’t her strongest suit. “We’re ready for you two.”

Din straightens in his seat. “Now?”

The kid stills with a tiny handful of waffle like he’s been caught. “Beh?”

She nods, stepping back to give him space. “You and him.” She looks at Paz and finds him already watching her. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait out here.”

Paz looks from her to Din, slow and considering. “How long will you be?”

Ginger tilts her head, scanning the room as she considers the time it will take them to get back. Do the swap. Get in the lab. Hope nobody stops them and then get the kid on that table... “An hour. Maybe less.”

Paz looks back to Din. “I’ll go check on Missy.”

Din just shrugs a shoulder, seeming noncommittal.

Ginger blinks. “Missy?”

“It’s his cat,” Din rises and scoops the kid up under his armpits, then blinks wide, startled at the squawk of indignation in his ear because the motion made the kid drop his waffle.

“Cat?” Ginger hasn’t seen a cat in person in so long. She misses cats.

“She’s waiting,” Paz explains, also rising to his feet. “In the car.”

Oh. All by herself? No, it’s not her business. Focus.

“When you come back, tell the front desk you’re here for me and Jack,” she tells Paz.

Din hands the child another portion of waffle, syrup-free, and watches him shovel it into his mouth with an expression between judging and amused, shaking his head quietly. Wiping his hand on his worn jeans, Din meets Paz’s gaze, and his smile fades slightly. It could be Ginger’s imagination but in that space of a heartbeat, the air seems to thicken with a strange tension.

And then Din looks to her. “Give us a minute?”

“Of course,” she shakes her head, palms raised. No problem. “I’ll be right out front. But please be quick.”

///

Din waits until Ginger is out of hearing range, white coat rippling behind her. When he looks to Paz, he finds the man smiling at the kid, gently pinching his cheek.

“You don’t have to,” Din says.

Paz’s gaze flicks to him, frowning slightly. “What?”

“Come back. If you want to head on your way now. You got us this far. That’s enough.”

Paz pauses, glancing to the child wiping his mouth against Din’s shoulder. Paz is hard to read, but Din is pretty sure the rapid blinking, searching gaze means ‘kind of stunned’, yet he still arrives at, “Yeah. Okay.”

A fist inexplicably closes around Din’s lungs. “Yeah?”

Paz nods, hands coming to a rest on his hips. “I mean. I’m in no rush, but... we got you back to your brother.”

Din almost snorts a laugh. The reunion with Jack is not something he’s celebrating.

“And if you feel safe here….”

Din frowns, but doesn’t correct him. Safe? Getting here wasn’t about safety. Jack had resources they needed. There are too many bad memories wound up in this place and Din will be out of here as soon as they’re done. But he won’t need Paz for that.

“We’ll be fine,” Din says, rather than dispute him. Paz has done more than enough for them, and Din doesn’t like being indebted to people. He shuffles the kid higher against his side, freeing his right hand. He offers it to Paz. “Thank you.”

Paz has many different smiles. Din wonders if the man knows that about himself. This one is… difficult to name. Paz considers the hand Din has offered him and chuckles under his breath. The hand that clasps Din back is firm and powerful, but unlike their first handshake, doesn’t pretend to crush him in his grip.

That was only funny the first time.

They had just met. Paz had emerged from the dark of the Waffle House’s lot like some kind of hellish spectre, spewing fire and barking at Din to get down. He’d placed the flamethrower in Din’s hands so he could take the wheel once aboard his truck. Din promptly turned it on him. And Paz had just put up his hands, fearless, gaze serious.

“You can roast me later, but I can get you far from here.”

Paz hadn’t held it against him. Trust was earned. Everyone and their dog had been chasing this child. And Paz was the only one laying cover fire; well-equipped for a private citizen. Din might have been more suspicious if Paz wasn’t clearly just from the country and living on the open road. If Din had space and means, he would be doing the same.

“The honour was mine,” Paz insists with that rare, quiet gravity that always made Din feel like the air was clearing, like he was peeling a shade of the world back on something significant but could never hold it long enough to understand what he was seeing. Paz releases him and gently cups the back of the kid’s head. The little one twists around for a better look at him. “Look after him, kiddo.”

The kid frowns, lips parting in a soft shape of confusion. Din wonders if he’ll even remember Paz in a week’s time.

Belatedly, Din realises they still have the mess of their breakfast on the table before them. As though reading his mind, Paz shakes his head, waving him off.

“I’ll clean this up. You go. That woman sounds like you're in a hurry.”

Din’s heart thuds in his chest. They’re never going to see him again and it feels… abrupt. Seven days of sharing meals, of waking to the rock and sway of the road beneath him and Paz at the truck’s wheel, that darned cat nuzzling against him for space on the cabin’s small bed. It’s been so long since he travelled with anyone. Did saying goodbye always feel this heavy? And unfairly easy?

“Are you sure?”

Paz is already turning away, collecting their plates. He waves Din off. “Go on. I’ve got this.”

They’re just ships passing in the night. That has always been his life. Din nods mechanically and feels the child’s small hand clutch at his collar.

“Thank you.”

Thank you for taking a risk for us. Until our paths cross again. Be safe.

Arms tight around the child, Din turns and leaves. The child yawns in his ear and Din takes the reminder to take a deep breath, putting their new friend behind them. Maybe some goodbyes just have to be understated, no matter how big they feel.

"Din."

His heart thumps hard and his breath catches in his throat. When he looks back, Paz nods with a two-fingered salute. His smile is kind.

"Good luck."

"Ehn," the kid complains, twisting in Din's arms and flopping overbackwards, almost falling right out of his hold, what the hell, kid?

Heart leaping, Din catches the kid just in time, mentally cursing and wondering why-- what is wrong with this kid-- but he shoves those thoughts to the side and gives Paz a tight nod of thanks. The guy’s smile widens, and Din rushes from the cafeteria before he can embarrass himself further.

"Hey," Din commands, bouncing the whining kid to get his attention. "Settle."

The kid sags in his arms, and his head hangs with a pout.

Ginger smiles when she sees him (what does he do to keep earning that from people? Must be the kid) and leads them to a storage closet of all places.

It's larger than it looks from the outside: several shelves deep full of industrial cleaning supplies and equipment. It smells of bleach and dust. Overhead, a fan whirs noisily from the air vent. In the clear walking space before them, Jack stands by an empty steel chair set on a small square of tarpaulin. He smiles brightly upon seeing the kid, arms spread wide in welcome.

“There he is!”

Meeting Jack’s eye, the kid bursts into delighted giggles and curls away, hiding his face against Din’s chest. Kids are weird.

Jack catches Din’s eye and nods. "Sit. You can hold him.”

The door clicks shut behind them, and Din glances back to see Ginger standing guard.

Din frowns, eyeing the familiar tool in Jack's hand. "What's going on?"

"We're taking care of that tracker," Jack slaps the seat's back as though it's a prized ride. He brandishes the hair trimmer. "But first you need a haircut. Time is short. Sit and I'll explain.”

Ten minutes later, Din is freshly shorn (uncomfortably so), and testing the give in the shoulders of his new outfit. Jack’s clothes are heavier than they look, warmer, too, but loose.

“Did you gain weight?” he frowns at his brother.

Jack sneers at him, lacing up his boots. “Or did you just lose too much muscle?”

“Why’d you have to shave your moustache?”

Jack straightens like a shot and glares at him, offended. “Hey, I thought you shaved yours, too, all right! It’s been a long night.”

“Feel naked,” Din grumbles, mournfully rubbing his bare upper lip. It doesn’t feel right.

Straightening side-by-side, the two brothers size each other up, clothes exchanged, groomed to match, a near perfect mirror image. Din stares at the beaver blend cowboy hat and slowly puts it on with a groan.

“You’re not standing right,” Jack says.

“We don’t all have a stick up our ass,” Din mutters.

Jack points at him accusingly. “Fix your stance, or we’re goin’ to get nowhere real fast!”

“Shh!” Ginger hushes, looking specifically at Jack with alarm. “Keep it down!”

“Fine,” Din mutters and cocks a hip out, hands on his waist in his most insulting impression of his brother’s dumb bravado at rest. “How’s this?”

Not at all deterred, Jack takes a different tact. “Well, let’s find out.” He turns to the child waddling through the short tufts of hair strewn from Din’s haircut on the tarpaulin. “Hey, Green Bean.”

The child looks up with a questioning sound, a small hand wrapped around the chair’s leg.

Jack smiles. “C’mere.”

And something in Din rails watching his brother in his clothes, holding out his arms, smiling as Din never would (or could); and his heart kicks in his chest when the child totters towards him with a happy noise, arms lifting up.

No, Jack hasn’t earned that.

"Kid,” Din orders in the same voice he always has, irrationally hoping the kid will recognise him: the one who has watched over him these past days, fed and washed him, let him drool against his shoulder, and kept him from gnawing on their weapons.

The kid halts halfway to Jack, and looks back at him, searching his face. He squints adorably.

Din almost smiles, but thinks better of it, imagining how unnatural it would look. Instead, he points at himself. “Who’s this?”

“Ehn?” The kid blinks, turning more fully to look at him. Din knows he’s only a child, but something in his expression is more aware, more articulated and mature than any child has a right to be. Is that what people mean when they say they see an old soul?

Jack claps, bringing the child’s attention back to him. He smiles indulgently. “Come to Papi.”

“Don’t do that,” Din growls.

Thankfully, Ginger chooses that moment to step back in. “Jack, it’s almost eight. Come on.”

Sighing with disappointment as though he’s been deprived of his game, Jack rises back to his feet and unclips his ID, offering it to his brother. Just as Din is about to take it, Jack holds it back, and makes sure he has his brother’s undivided attention.

“Din’ika, I’m trusting you not to commit crimes against the state in my name while you wear this. It’s a big responsibility which I know you know ‘cause you couldn’t run from it fast enough.”

Scowling, Din snatches the ID and clips it to the chest pocket of his suit jacket. It’s a different set of clothes from what Jack wore yesterday, but he doesn’t think either of these two went home. The thought that they worked through the night for the kid is the only thing staying his tongue, and discomfort squirms again in his chest. Jack will hold this debt over him for a while to come.

“Need to go over the plan again?” Jack asks, looking between Ginger and Din.

“We get in the lab, Ginger removes the chip, we come back, swap, and we’re out of your lives,” Din says. He watches the child around Jack’s knee, the little one sliding down to his bottom, grabbing a fistfull of short, brown hair and throwing it to the side in a full body motion. Giggling, the child does it again, watching the strands scatter and flutter like grass.

“Sweet and simple,” Jack smirks, but claps a hand round his brother’s shoulder, focuses on Ginger with intent. “You do everything this woman tells you, all right? You don’t speak to anyone. You don’t go anywhere or touch anything ‘less she tells you to.”

Din meets Ginger’s slightly startled look and cocks his head with a shrug. “You’re the boss.”

Jack fixes him with a raised finger in warning. “I would never say that.”

“It’s okay,” Ginger assures Din, as though she’s brushing Jack aside. “I’ll take care of you.”

But as his brother is turning away, something else occurs to Din. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it.

“Wait.”

Jack gives him an arched look. Din gestures between the two of them and thumbs the thin necklace of leather at his neck. “Should we….?”

Should they swap this, too?

Jack’s sober look wipes all other emotion from his face. He hesitates, eyes falling to Din’s neck. Something hardens behind his gaze. “Ni trikari, ni ne'lise.”

Din shouldn’t have asked in the first place. He nods, palming the shape of the steel amulet beneath his shirt. He can’t see any impression of Jack’s through his, but Din knows his twin must still wear its counterpart. No matter what else has passed between them, this one thing would not have changed. “Gar serim.”

“Hey.” Jack clasps his shoulder firmly, voice quiet. “No one will look that far. Trust me.”

Gratitude warms through the tight feeling that had briefly clenched his chest. Even the thought of parting with his own makes him tense. He doesn’t have many personal effects, but the pendant….

Ginger is watching them with a curious frown. “What language is that?” she asks gently.

Din’s stomach swoops. He glances at his brother, but sees none of his own wariness reflected back. It makes him feel better.

“An old one,” is all Jack says, then claps his hands together. “Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”

[sparklerose222]

The Super Girls

Chapter 2

Word Count: 1,847

Characters: Moriah Heart, Noriah Heart, Julia Royal, Lara Lightwood, Vanessa Storm, Folmanus Evermore

Warnings: Minor violence, and I will edit if any more are found.

Parings: future platonic LAMPD

Summary: The Super Girls are formed.

Previous chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1

“You really think that I will accept this. She is a kid.”

“And so are Julia and you, I’m the only adult here. I mean, it is only a three-year difference between 12 and 15. She has been a hero for the same amount of time as us, fighting Folmanus alone when we are meant to be fighting him together.”

“It is not our fault that we were separated. We became heroes, we proved our worth, what has she done. I've heard nothing about Split other than the occasional robbery.”

“That is because Folmanus won't appear in any written history, none will ever be brave enough to write about him, and you know that. We thought that he will come in two more years and we were going to look for him then, but we were wrong. Because of our arrogance, we let the youngest of us fight him alone. Like it or not, she knows the most about him than any of us. You just need to talk to her like the equal she is and get to know her.”

“You guys need to quiet it down, I could hear muffled yelling from the main road, and that’s five miles away.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah, oops, by the way, my name is Moriah. I never told any of you my name last week.”

“Glad you found your way here, too bad I have to leave. My publisher wants my manuscript by tomorrow, and I still have 4 more chapters to write.”

“You’re a writer? How did I not know that? I’ve known you for seven years?”

“Even I knew that and I met her last week. I love your books, I was just too irritated that day to fangirl after you transformed back.”

“Well, good to know I have another fan. Tic, could you please portal me home. I would appreciate it.”

“Sure, even though I know that you are only doing this so that I am alone with Moriah. There you go.”

“Thanks, Tic, and you know I’m not that sneaky. I really do have to finish.”

That’s when a purple portal opened up, and Lara left me alone with TicTock. The very girl who still hasn’t told me her name.

“So, don’t you have school today.”

“I don’t know. Don’t you?”

“Smooth, real smooth. But I’m serious, I’m homeschooled, and my mom knows about me being a Super Girl.”

“Parent-teacher conference, and my mom thinks I have friends.”

“So, you don’t have friends. Maybe you should just stop being a Super Girl so you can have time to make some.”

“Thanks, I needed that, not. You’re never getting rid of me, I am a Super Girl like it or not, and there is nothing you can do about it. The reason why I don’t have friends is that I know I will be dead in two years, and I don’t need anything trying to distract me.”

“Okay, I think I struck a chord there.”

This girl gets me so angry; I don’t know how to handle it. Couple it with her irritation, and it only makes it worse. Sometimes I hate being an empath. 

“Hiya Split Yin, I’m Julia, by the way. Noriah and I were just catching up, what are you two talking about.”

“Nothing much, Nori, do you want to leave. I sure mom is going to be coming home soon.”

“So, that bad, usually my sister is very patient with people. After keeping her powers a secret since she was three, she is good at dealing with her emotions around others.”

“You’ve had your powers for that long and kept them a secret. From how many?”

“Everyone. The hardest part is keeping my powers hidden from my mom, dad, and older brother.”

Though it doesn’t help that my mom would prefer if people just didn’t use their powers at all and deny who they are. If she were to find out that I am a superhero, I don’t think she would ever let me out of the house again. I wonder if any more of these girl’s families know what they are doing or is it just TicTocks. Now an alarm is going off, which means Folmanus is back on earth. That was the best break I’ve had in six years.

“Great, why don’t you two stay here and hold down the fort? Come on, Juli, let’s go.”

With that, TicTock pulls Juli through the portal; she just open, and they were gone. Not even Noriah could run fast enough to get through before it closed. Leaving us behind.

I am going to blowout her eardrums.

Morie, come on, we need to get to the town's square before those girls get themselves killed, grab my hand we need to refuse.

Fine, how do you have a level head

With that, I grabbed Noriah’s hand and relinked our charms. Completing the symbol of balance, refusing us back together, and letting her take control so she can use her super speed. We were able to get the town's square in two minutes flat, cracking our charms along the way so we could transform. The jewelry we whare dampen our powers because they are too strong to handle on a day to day bases. I mean, I can feel the emotions of everyone in the city and pinpoint where they are. Though I’m glad that it doesn’t overwhelm me.

I am going to be giving a birds-eye view of this fight:

Just as Split ran in on the scene, Wonder was falling out of the sky unconscious.

“Yang, go check for civilians I’ll catch her.”

“Got it.”

With a sonic scream, Yin was able to slow Wonder’s fall enough that when she hit the concrete, it only left a few small scratches. Luckily, the low impact jolted her awake, albeit a little sore.

“Why are you just now getting here? TicTock said that you weren’t interested in fighting anymore. How can you think that’s okay? You are meant to be part of the team.”

Yin says nothing as she helps her up, and Yang runs up to them, not hearing what was just said.

“There were a few people trapped in their houses, but I got them out. Let’s get back to the fight and help the other two.”

With a nod, the two girls followed the other. When they got to TicTock and Storm, they were on the ground, struggling to get back up.

In front of them was the elven king, Folmanus. His skin was silver with his ears and teeth pointed. He was also wearing a Victorian like outfit that flattered him well. Almost every Super Girl thought that if he wasn’t trying to take over the world, they would try and date him, accept Morie, who was tired of fighting him. I mean, the guy even knew how strong women can be. He then saw the last three girls run-up.

“Finally, you get here Split Yin, I was getting bored with these weaklings who think they can win. Please tell me that you all together will make this fight fun again?”

“Sorry to bore you, Folmanus. We will do our best to fix that.”

Once Tic and Storm stood next to the others ready to fight alongside them as equals for the first time, not being aware of it, there was a spark that manifested into weapons. 

For Split, a double-edged katana that could break into two. Wonder received a staff that she could use to focus her energy into a blast of power. TicTock got a pendulum similar to one in old clocks that ticked to the time of the multiverse. Finally, Storm summoned a broad sword that can change its composition to whatever element that she wants.

“So you think little toys can help you defeat me? Bring it on.”

Without another word, the girls dove into attack as one. Folmanus was fast and agile, but with these five girls working better together than ever before, he felt himself being pushed back. They were far from perfect, and they almost hit each other a few times, but they were aware of each other this time, and they were winning. See, Folmanus realized there first fight with all of them together, he would have killed them without trying. Where’s the fun in that? So once they got a single nick on him, he retreated and took a break to see if they would get better. They did.

This time they pushed him back into his portal severely wounded. Storm slashing him along the length of his arm, TicTock hitting him in the head twice, Split Yin taking out his legs while Yang held him in place, and finally, Wonder using her staff to lift him and force him through the portal. It will take him a good bit to heal. But he’ll be back and was glad to have something that pushed him to his limit. Maybe he will get stronger without absorbing the Super Girls.

Once back in his house that he made centuries ago for if he needed to hide, Folmanus morphed into his human form that looked unharmed, but he was still in a lot of pain. He still got ready for the job he got six years ago, so he didn’t have to steal everything he needed. One day he will be king again.

“Did we do that?”

“Yes, Yin, we did that. We did some real damage to him.”

“Why is she so out of it? Is she really that surprised that we beat him?”

“We didn’t beat him. We just damaged him a great deal today. He is an eternal Elf that can not be killed so easily. I am surprised because the most damage Nori and I have ever done to him was a scratch. Today we hurt him as a team. That’s a big deal.”

“How do you think that we’re a team? A teammate wouldn’t just pick and choose when they help, and when they don’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how she told Tic that she didn’t feel like fighting anymore and was going home.”

“No, Morie didn’t say that. Your friend TicTock told us to stay here and then left us behind. Some teammates. So TicTock does that mean that you are a liar and a sneak.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you would take the hint and go home, but I was wrong, and I am glad because I realized that we really do need you. I think you should know that I’m Vannessa. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You really did that? Nessa, that’s not okay. Why did you lie to me?”

“Because I thought that we didn’t need them, but we were getting pummeled until after they showed up. I'm thrilled you made it in time, I promise to never pull a stunt like that again.”

“I guess we can forgive you. As long as you finally see us as Super Girls.”

“Definitely”

“Yay, Best friends.”

“I don’t know about that one yet.”

“Agreed.”

————————————————–

Chapter 3 <3

Authors note: I tried to do a small fight scene, and I would really like some feedback on it. I hope you enjoyed chapter 2, thanks for reading.

[papermoonloveslucy]

HUMILIATED & UNHAPPY

July 16, 1960

TV Guide ~ July 16-22, 1960 (Vol.8, No.29 & Issue #381) Cover photo by Sherm Weisberg, Fashions by Sacks Fifth Avenue

This was Lucille Ball’s tenth (of 39) TV Guide covers. 

“A VISIT WITH LUCILLE BALL” by Dan Jenkins

On January 19, 1953, Desi Arnaz rushed exultantly into the Hollywood Brown Derby, grinning that wide, idiotic grin common to new fathers for the past several eons. Striding down a side isle, he threw his arms excitedly in the air and shouted, "Now we got everythin'!" By "everythin'," Arnaz was encompassing quite a bit of territory - an eight-pound son born that morning, the birth of the Ricardo son on ‘I Love Lucy’ that same night and a gold-plated peak of popularity for a television series which, in all probability, will never again be approached. On May 4, 1960, just seven years later, Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball, quite possibly the most widely known couple in show-business history, were divorced. She had sued for divorce once before (she didn't complete the proceedings), but that was back in 1944 when Desi was a corporal in the Army, Lucy was a star at MGM and World War II was getting all the headlines. By 1960, the Lucy-Desi combine had made so many headlines that no one even bothered to look at the press-clipping scrapbooks any more, or the countless awards that had rolled in on them from all over the country. On an overcast spring afternoon, just 10 days after the divorce, Lucille Ball was sitting in her small but tastefully decorated dressing room on the Desilu lot. That morning, during a short drive over to the neighboring Paramount lot to confer with the producers of her upcoming picture with Bob Hope, she had stuck her head out the window of her chauffeur-driven car and shouted to a friend, "Hi! Remember me? I used to work at Desilu." The remark was not only typical of Lucy Ball but an unwitting reflection of her character and a classic off-the-cuff example of the laugh-clown-laugh tradition. Like most true clowns, Lucy is not a jovial, outgoing person. Her devastating sense of humor, often with a cutting edge, is reserved for her friends. In her dealings with the press she is precise, truthful - and sparing with words. A newsman asked her recently if she had plans to marry again. Lucy stared at him for a few seconds and said simply, "No." (1) The newsman felt that Lucy had missed her calling and should be rushed into the negotiations with Khrushchev forthwith. Relaxing (which is to say, at least sitting down for a few minutes) with an old friend in her dressing room that spring afternoon, Lucy alternated between abrupt sentences and spilled-over paragraphs. On the subject of her immediate plans, she talked almost as though by rote. "I start rehearsals this week for a picture with Bob Hope. It's called 'The Facts of Life.' [She did not wince at the title.] I liked it the minute I read the script and said I'd do it if Bob would. It's written and produced by Norman Panama and Melvin Frank. We have a 10-week shooting schedule. "Then I go to New York with the two children, my mother and two maids. We have a seven-room apartment on 69th Street at Lexington. I'll start rehearsals right away for a Broadway show, 'Wildcat.' It's a comedy with music, not a musical comedy, but the music is important. I play a girl wildcatter in the Southwestern oil fields around the turn of the century. It was written by N. Richard Nash, who wrote 'The Rainmaker.' He is co-producer with Michael Kidd, the director. We're still looking for a leading man. I want an unknown. He has to be big, husky, around 40. He has to be able to throw me around, and I'm a pretty big girl. He has to be able to sing, at least a little. (2) I have to sing, too. It's pretty bad. When I practice, I hold my hands over my ears. We open out of town - I don't know where - and come to New York in December. [Ed. Note: ‘Wildcat’ is now scheduled to make its debut in Philadelphia in November.] (3) "I'm terrified. I've never been on the stage before, except in 'Dream Girl' years ago. But we always filmed ‘I Love Lucy’ before a live audience. I knew a long time ago that I was eventually going to go to Broadway and that's one reason why we shot Lucy that way. But I'm still terrified. The contract for the play runs 18 months. Maybe it will last that long. Maybe longer. And maybe it will last three days." (4) The phone rang. A man's voice, the resonant kind which a telephone seems to make louder, wanted to know if Lucy would like to go out that night. Lucy's expression indicated that the whole idea was a bore but the man prattled on. He apparently had a commitment to attend a young night-club singer's act. "I've seen him twice already," Lucy said into the phone, "and his press agent is now saying I've been there eight times. If I go again the kid will be saying I'm in love with him. He's 2-feet-6 and nine years old. I don't want any part of it." The voice on the phone turned to a tone of urgent pleading. Lucy held the phone away from her at arms length and looked to the ceiling for advice and guidance. She finally hung up. "I go out because people ask me to," she said. "I have no love for night clubs, unless there's an act I especially want to see. And I don't especially want to see this kid's again." She lit another cigarette. "Nervous habit," she said. "I don't inhale, never did. Just nerves.” "I get tired too easily. The reaction is beginning to set in. I've had pneumonia twice in a year. That's not good." There was a long silence. Even for old friends, Lucy is not an easy person to talk to. "I filed for the divorce the day after I finished my last piece of film under the Westinghouse contract," she said suddenly. "I should have done it long ago." Would there ever be any more Lucy-Desi specials like those Westinghouse had sponsored? (5) She stared. "No," she said abruptly. She paused. "Even if everything were alright, we'd never work together again. We had six years of a pretty successful series and two years of specials. Why try to top it? That would be foolish. We always knew that when the time came to quit, we'd quit. We were lucky. We quit while we were still ahead." Was she happy?

Another stare. "Am I happy? No. Not yet. I will be. I've been humiliated. That's not easy for a woman." She started to talk about the recent years with Desi. She talked in a quiet, factual monotone, a voice that had been all through bitterness and was now beyond it. She talked with an implicit faith that what she was saying was off the record. It was. Some day, it was suggested to her, somebody was going to write the story. She stared. "Who would want to?" (6) She looked over at the framed picture of Desi that stood on a small table. "Look at him," she said. "That's the way he looked 10 years ago. He doesn't look like that now. He'll never look like that again." The door was opened and a spring breeze began drawing some of the heavy cigarette smoke out of the room. Lucy smiled a little and turned to her desk. "Try to write," she said finally, "more than I said but not as much as I said." 

FOOTNOTES

(1) Lucille Ball did indeed marry again - to Gary Morton (born Morton Goldaper) on November 21, 1961.  They remained married until her death. 

(2) Gordon MacRae, Jock Mahoney, and Gene Barry were considered before Lucille selected Keith Andes to play the role of Joe Dynamite. He was indeed 40 years old at the time of casting. He committed suicide in 2005. 

(3) 'Wildcat’s’ Philadelphia tryout opened on October 29, 1960. The Broadway opening had to be postponed when trucks hauling the sets and costumes to New York were stranded on the New Jersey Turnpike by a major blizzard. After two previews, the show opened on December 16th at Broadway’s Alvin (now Neil Simon) Theatre.

(4) ‘Wildcat’ ran for 171 regular performances. The show was on hiatus from February 5, 1961 through February 9, 1961 during Lucille Ball's illness. The production was to take a 9-week hiatus after June 3rd, 1961 and re-open August 7, 1961, to complete Ball’s contract, but the show closed and did not return due to Ball’s physical exhaustion. 

(5) Jenkins is referring to the 13 “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hours” which were part of the “Westinghouse-Desilu Playhouse” which continued the adventures of the Ricardos and the Mertzes, including guest stars, musical numbers, and travel-themed episodes. 

(6) Lucy and Desi’s tempestuous marriage has been the subject of several books, two television movies, an award-winning documentary, and at least one stage musical! 

TV Guide columnist Dan Jenkins had his name used by “I Love Lucy” in “Redecorating” (ILL S2;E8) in 1952 for the used furniture salesman played by Hans Conried.  His name was also mentioned in “Lucy and Ethel Buy The Same Dress” (S3;E3) as a possible emcee for their television show.  His qualifications? He plays tissue paper and comb! 

In 1953, when Lucille Ball was accused of being a Communist, the real Dan Jenkins stood up at a press conference and said “Well, I think we all owe Lucy a vote of thanks, and I think a lot of us owe her an apology.” Lucy and Desi walked over to where Jenkins was standing and gave him a huge hug. Jenkins later said, “From that time on, we were very good friends.”  His last interview with Lucy was in 1986 during “Life with Lucy.” 

OTHER ARTICLES

“Shari Lewis and her Puppets” - Lewis was a ventriloquist who’s main character was the sock puppet Lambchop.  In 1960, after years of guest-starring on television, Lewis got her own show, which lasted three years on NBC. 

“Ty Hardin’s Whirlwind Career” - Ty Hardin and his western show “Bronco” (1958-63) was ABC TV’s answer to Clint Walker’s “Cheyenne”.  

“From the Mouth’s of Babes Comes Happy’s Gimmick” - “Happy” (1960-61) was the nickname of a baby, who’s thoughts could be heard by the viewers in this one-season sitcom.  It was filmed at Desilu Studios. 

“The Untouchables - Fact and Fiction: Part 2″ - “The Untouchables” (1959-63) was a series that began on “The Westinghouse-Desilu Playhouse” and turned into a hit weekly show by Desilu. 

PHOTO FEATURES

“Linkletter’s Packing Tips” - Art Linkletter was one of television’s most popular hosts and presenters. Lucille Ball appeared on his show “House Party” in 1965 as well as a 1966 episode of “The Lucy Show” and a 1970 episode of “Here’s Lucy,” both times playing himself. 

“Connie Stevens’ Calorie Counter” - Connie Stevens was a singer and actress then playing Cricket Blake on “Hawaiian Eye” (1959-63). 

REVIEW

“Mystery Show” - was a mystery anthology series broadcast on NBC from May 1960 to September 1960 as a summer replacement for “The Dinah Shore Chevy Show” with Walter Slezak as host, except for the last three episodes, which had Vincent Price as host.

At the time Evelyn Bigsby was the Associate Managing Editor for Women’s Features at TV Guide’s Hollywood Bureau. Her name was given to the new mother (played by Mary Jane Croft) who sits next to Lucy on the plane in “Return Home From Europe” (ILL S5;E26) in 1956. 

Depending on the time zone, “I Love Lucy” was re-run every morning at 10 or 11am. Here it competed with “The Price Is Right” which was broadcast in color!  NBC (RCA) was the leader in color television and staked its claim far soon than CBS. “The Lucy Show” didn’t air in color until the fall of 1965. 

In another market, “I Love Lucy” ran weekdays at 10am. This edition (same cover and feature articles, different listings) included “Lucy” episode descriptions, while others did not. Notice that an hour earlier the same channel re-ran Desilu’s series “December Bride”. On Monday, July 18, 1960, the re-run was “Second Honeymoon” (ILL S5;E14).  From this we can logically assume that this week, in this particular TV market, channel 2 and 8 presented:

TUESDAY, JULY 19, 1960 - “Lucy Meets the Queen (ILL S5;E15)

WEDNESDAY, JULY 20, 1960 - “The Fox Hunt” (ILL S5;E16)

THURSDAY, JULY 21, 1960 -  “Lucy Goes To Scotland” (ILL S5;E17)

FRIDAY, JULY 22, 1960 - “Paris at Last” (ILL S5;E18)

On Tuesday, July 19, 1960, at 8:30pm, CBS aired the unsold pilot for "Head of the Family". The pilot had Carl Reiner as TV writer Rob Petrie, Barbara Britton as Rob's wife Laura, Sylvia Miles as Sally Rogers, and Morty Gunty as Buddy Sorrell. In 1961, CBS would score a hit with a new name and a new cast of Dick Van Dyke, Mary Tyler Moore, Rose Marie, and Morey Amsterdam, filmed at Desilu Studios. 

For American TV viewers, this was the week between the Democratic National Convention (July 11-15) and the Republican National Convention (July 25-28).  Both parties affirmed their November presidential candidates: John F. Kennedy (D) and Richard M. Nixon (R). Kennedy would prove the victor on Election Day. 

Eight years earlier, in July 1952, an estimated 70 million voters watched the broadcasts, which ended with the nominations of Adlai Stevenson II and Dwight D. Eisenhower.  Although the conventions were also televised in 1948, few Americans owned a TV set to watch them. There was a popular myth that Stevenson lost the election because of backlash from interrupting airings of “I Love Lucy” with hour-long campaign ads. Another story has Stevenson receiving a telegram from a Lucy fan that read: “I love Lucy, but I hate you.”  The situation was paralleled on “I Love Lucy” in “The Club Election” (ILL S2;E19).  By 1956, the conventions were less a novelty on television, and drew smaller ratings and less attention. In the summer of 1956, Lucy and Desi were preparing their sixth and final season of “I Love Lucy” and storylines had to revolve around big name guest stars (Orson Welles and Bob Hope) and the move to Connecticut. 

Lucille Ball’s last appearance as Lucy Ricardo was on April 1, 1960, just four and a half months before this issue of TV Guide hit the stands. She wouldn’t return to series television until September 1962, by which time Lucille will be back on the cover of TV Guide once again.  She remained a yearly fixture on the Guide cover until 1974 and then made only one more original appearance to mark her return with “Life With Lucy.” 

After this article comes out, the next time TV viewers see Lucille Ball on their home screens is to promote her film with Bob Hope, The Facts of Life, on “The Garry Moore Show” on September 27, 1960. The film opened in November 1960. 

For more about TV Guide and “I Love Lucy” click here!  

[moodyvalentinestories]

Part 4: The First Date | Rachel Fields x Thomas Hunt

All that mattered was that they were finally, finally alone. Alone and free to do as they pleased.

Warning: NSFW! Mature! 18+! I know I can’t keep anyone from clicking the read more button but I’m gonna have to say it anyway: mature content ahead. Two people getting it on. Dancing the devil’s tango. Doing the nasty. They’re fucking, for Christ’s sake!

Summary: Thomas takes her to his place after their date and... y’all already know from the warning.

Pairing: Thomas Hunt x Rachel Fields

Word Count: ~ 1,700 words

Notes: I haven’t written any of these NSFW shenanigans in at least three to four years so I apologise for whatever this is in advance ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

❥ Moodyvalentine’s Full Masterlist ❥ The First Date: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Thomas had planned to offer her a drink first, maybe sit with her for a moment and see where the night would take them. But those plans were shot to hell the second they entered his home.

Before the door had even clicked shut, they were already locked in a passionate embrace, unable to keep their hands to themselves a second longer. Neither of them knew who started it and brought their lips together, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were finally, finally alone. Alone and free to do as they pleased.

Rachel let out a surprised squeal when he lifted her up and pushed her against the door. She felt him smile against her lips. “Sorry,” he muttered between kisses.

She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly, pulling him in and eliciting a low moan from him. “You better not be.”

“God, I want you,” he growled. He’d never in his life thought he’d ever want anyone as much as he wanted her in this moment. She’d truly reduced him to a savage, desperate mess.

“Then take me,” she breathed against his lips before moving her kisses along his jaw up to his ear, her whisper sending delicious shivers down his spine. “I’m all yours.”

If he’d harboured any illusion of her being innocent, that was gone now. The woman was a seductress. His own personal siren, put in his path to wreck the ship that was his life and drown him amidst its shambles – and Thomas wanted nothing more than to let her.

His hands wandered up her back until they found the zipper of her dress. He tugged at it, gently enough at first, but when it didn’t budge yanked it down, making her flinch.

“Sor—”

She moved her head to face him, looking at him with such intensity that he felt his knees were going to give in any second. “If you apologise again, you’re going to regret it.”

Fuck, he thought as he groaned. He would never have thought a threat could be such a turn on but here he was, his cock twitching at her words. What was she doing to him?

A mischievous smirk played at her lips before she leant in for another kiss, thrusting her hips forward the best she could, still caught between Thomas’ body and the wooden door. It had the intended effect.

“We should move this to the bedroom,” he panted, knowing – somewhere in the very back of his mind – that he’d wanted their first time to be in a more comfortable place than the cramped entryway of his home. As little power as he had at this point – and, to his own surprise, he didn’t mind being powerless to her in the least – he wanted, needed, to hold onto that.

She nodded as she moved her hands to his tie to loosen it. “I think you may be right about that.”

They took longer than they should have to get to the bedroom as they tugged at their clothes while trying not to let go of each other. At one point, Thomas tried to pick up his very expensive suit jacket after it had landed on the ground, but her glare deterred him. She wasn’t going to wait any longer than she absolutely had to.

By the time they arrived, they were both only in their underwear. As Thomas lowered Rachel down onto his bed, they finally got to get a good look at one another.

The sight of his nearly naked body above her took her breath away. She’d seen his modelling photos before, but the real thing was so much better. And even better still combined with the look of pure desire in his eyes. Desire for her.

“Thomas,” she whispered after a moment. He was still staring at her and, while she usually felt quite confident about her body, she almost felt like covering up. Was he seeing something he didn’t like? Had he expected something else?

His name from her lips, in that seductive tone of hers, ripped him out of the trance-like state he’d been in as his eyes roamed her body – her completely and utterly perfect body – and made him look back up at her face. “Yes,” he said and leant down to brush his lips over hers in a feather-light kiss. “I’m right here.”

She leant up in an attempt to deepen the kiss but he pulled back and moved his mouth down to the space between her neck and her shoulder, sending tingles down her spine as he peppered the area with kisses. His lips drifted down to her breasts that threatened to spill from the cups of her bra.

She’d purposefully worn one that was just a touch to small for her, hoping the enhancement it would provide to her cleavage would catch Hunt’s attention. She hadn’t realised it – he was far too discreet for her to – but he had noticed, every time she’d leant forward during their dinner. And it had driven him crazy. But not as much as seeing her writhe beneath his lips.

He knew she was getting impatient. So was he. Without even looking, he moved a hand behind her back and unclasped her bra, leaving her to wonder how on Earth he had done that so effortlessly. She herself couldn’t do it without a struggle and she had to do it every damn day.

Those thoughts came to an abrupt stop, though, as Thomas flung the garment across the room and his lips attached to her newly exposed breasts, his tongue flicking her nipple. He used one of his hands to cup and caress the breast his lips weren’t currently occupying and ran the other down her body until he found her aching centre, pressing his thumb lightly into the damp fabric.

“Thomas,” she hissed, and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was a warning or a plea. “I need you. Now.”

He’d wanted to take his time, make her feel good first. “Rachel, I—”

Frustrated by his objection, she moved her hand between them to cup him through his underwear, drawing a moan from him. As he thrust forward into her open palm, he realised he couldn’t possibly disagree with her. He was so hard, he burned.

Without hesitation, he yanked her panties off, ripping them in the process. Normally, she would have protested – she was wearing her good underwear, after all – but she found that she couldn’t much care about that at the moment. All she cared about was getting Hunt out of those boxer briefs.

Once she finally did, his very impressive erection springing free, he leant over to his nightstand and retrieved a condom. He ripped it open, uncharacteristically impatient, and slid it on before positioning himself between her legs.

He looked at her, wanting to see her face as he buried his cock deep inside of her with one hard thrust. They both gasped, her back arching off the mattress and his arms sliding underneath it to wrap around her, pulling her up further, closer to him.

“Fuck,” Thomas breathed and Rachel was pretty sure she’d never get used to hearing him swear. But it was so, so incredibly hot that she knew she would try to get him to do it as often as she possibly could. She felt like she could have come just from hearing him swear.

Of course, she wasn’t going to let him know that. If there was one part of him that didn’t need stroking, it was his ego. “Yes,” she groaned, noting how he still hadn’t made any attempts at moving yet, and wrapped her legs around his waist. “You should start doing that.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He pulled back, moaning at the feeling of her body fighting to keep him inside her, before slowly lowering himself into her again. At first, he tried to keep his thrusts gentle, his rhythm slow, but it soon became clear that Rachel wouldn’t have that.

She angled her hips higher, tightened the grip of her legs around his waist. She needed him deeper. Faster. After trying – and failing – to keep her in place, he finally obliged, surrendering himself to his animalistic instincts as he started pounding into her at a relentless pace.

She gripped his broad shoulders, needing to hold on to him with everything she had. He, in turn, buried his head in the crook of her neck, unable to keep it up from the sheer pleasure of finally feeling her.

Thomas tried his best to muffle his grunts with her skin, nibbling and kissing every time he felt he was going to make a sound, but both their moans soon filled the room, accompanied only by the sounds of skin slapping against skin.

She felt the muscles in her abdomen tighten and moved her hips so as to take him in as deep as she could. She was close, so close, but just not quite there yet. Just not enough.

Perceptive as he was, even in the throes of passion, he picked up on it and moved his hands between her legs, rubbing her clit. It didn’t take her long then until a wave of ecstasy washed over her.

“Oh god,” she moaned out. “I’m going to… I’m going to… Thomas!”

Hearing her scream his name mixed with the sweet pain of her nails digging into his skin as they dragged down his back undid him. With one last thrust, he shoved his length into her, pulling her so close that neither of them knew where one ended and the other began.

He kissed her again, ever so gently this time, before rolling off of her. They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds that could be heard their heavy breathing.

After a moment, Thomas got up and, for a second, Rachel worried until she realised he was just going over to the trash can that stood next to the dresser to throw the used condom away. As he walked, his back turned to her, she noticed the damage her nails had done.

“Sorry for scratching up your back,” she said when he joined her in the bed again.

He let out a low chuckle before pressing a kiss to her lips. “What was that you said about apologising earlier? I think it goes both ways.”

“That left a mark, though.”

He smiled softly. “Good. It’ll be a reminder that tonight wasn’t a dream.”

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