#people have stolen authors medication before

[cherry-pop-elf]

S.P.E.W For Werewolves

Abigail Grey x Reader

Can be read as platonic

Ever since the HogsHead became a safe heaven for Abigail’s pack, she’s been busy with trying to help make the place more liveable and better for them. Along with bringing awareness to werewolves as well. As if you would refuse to help her!

Warnings: Werewolfphobia, Renka, disabilities, medical issues, small acts of violence

“Oh! Hey-!” Abigail would adjust her ever present scarf, as to make her words more audible. “I was looking for you. I don’t mean to bother, but do you think you can help me with something?” She asked you, with another fiddle to her scarf.

“Course, what’s up?” You asked, as you looked her over. She seemed to have her messenger bag stuffed with papers, and one was in hand even. Said paper was quick to be handed to you, as if it would explain it all.

The paper itself looked to be an advertisement of sorts. A means to ask the public to donate old books, clothes, what have you, to the likes of The Hogs Head In. A donation to the ‘local pack’ if you will.

“Werewolfism can affect anyone, of any age, as you are well aware of. Not a lot of my pack went to schooling of any kind. Would be nice for them to learn to read and write. More than just their name, ya know?” Abigail explain to you, as you kept looking over the flyer. Such a noble cost it was. How could you refuse?

“Where to first?” You asked her. The way her eyes lit up just had you beaming. It was a noble cause, after all. It’s also her family. Who could say no to family? Well, family you love anyway. As if anyone wanted to dive into that complicated mess.

Onwards you two went. Going through out the halls, and into classrooms that permitted you both to enter. A adventure of simple nature. Hanging up flyers on the hallways, talking to fellow friends to hang them up in their designated hang out spots when they weren’t all busy with whatever adventure the year brought them. Asking teachers if they would be ok with hanging them up. Noble cause. It was all going well. To well, and you both knew it would change. Change, it did.

“Donating to the HogsHead-? For one, why would a student need to donate anything. Second off, why such a place as that?” She scoffed, and that scoff was what you two knew so well. Cassandra.

“Because, not everyone gets an education like us. A lot of witches and wizards can’t read.” Abigail was quick to say, with a spin on her feet. Silvery eyes meeting those hypnotic emerald.

“Sounds like a them problem-“ The blonde scoffed, making Abigail bubble. She took a deep breath, before being more direct with her. Helped that you held her hand, so she could have support.

“Yeah, it’s them who are the issue. Not the fact they were cursed, and can’t do anything about it. Do you know what it’s like to not be seen as human, because of how you were born? How you’ll never be seen as equal, all because your blood isn’t ‘pure’ and is ‘tampered’ with. That you just will never be seen as anything more than inhuman?” Abigail asked, and….Cassandra paused.

You never seen Cassandra think so hard before. Her eyes avoiding both of you. Why was Cassandra not smarting off at you both? Why isn’t she scoffing, and calling you both some insult? What was she thinking?

“…..I’ll talk to Colby about this. He’s the poetry writer. I’m sure he has some old books he has no use for.” And she turned, with a snap of her dress, and left. You two were jaw dropped at the kind gesture. The hell? Cassandra? Kind?

“What was that about?” You whispered, as the two of you begun to head outside. A plan to hang them up around Hogsmeade. “Beats me. Maybe she has inhuman blood in her family as well. Maybe like Veela. Would explain how she seems to escape getting suspended, with all the crap she pulls.” Maybe. Maybe….

You tried not to stress over it, and instead focused on carrying all the flyers for your friend. Letting her skip in-front of you, with such pep in her step. So excited to make that old tavern way more friendly, and enjoyable. She was just so excited, she hardly could hear you call her name. The moment it dawned on her you called her, she crashed into the worse person to bump into. Renka.

Abigail would give a squeak, and was quick to run back to you. She’s no scardy cat, but Renka is the exception. Especially when it dawned on her who had crashed into her pink coat. Had her out right cast a cleaning charm on herself, as if Abigail would infect her. That had you glare, and the woman glared back.

“And what are you two doing here? Shouldn’t you be in that useless school, learning useless things?” She scoffed, as you would hold the flyers closer to your chest. Renka was quick to notice this, however, and was quick to Accio them away from you.

“GIVE THOSE BACK-!” Abigail shouted, throwing her fear aside. For her Pack. “Those are ours!” She added, as she tried to grab one of the papers, only for it to fly higher. Made her slip on the ice, and fall on her butt.

“Let’s see what you two gremlins are doing-“ She huffed, as she adjusted her glasses to read the paper. Meanwhile, you helped Abigail up. Dusting off the snow, and giving her respect and dignity.

“You are trying to scam people! Of course you two would! Trying to scam people out of what they rightfully earned, so you freaks can get a meal ticket!” She gasped, as that had Abigail pink in her face.

“None of that-“ You two gasped, as the papers were now engulfed in flames. “NO-!” Abigail shouted, as she tried to grab said paper. You tried to stop her, but her cry of pain said you were too late. She now held a burn on her hand, and stumbled back. You swore Renka smirked.

“Rabblehauser-! That’s enough-!” The three of you would look over, and see a sight. One being Mr. Weasley, with an older man. Worse for wears, that’s for sure. With a face that was scary to you, but nothing abnormal to Abigail. With his cheek missing, exposing teeth. Scars that cut into his brilliant red hair line, and an eye clearly blinded. The attire made it clear he was a curse breaker. Leather vest, white dress shirt, and a cloak over his shoulders. Fur edging for warmth. Quite the classy attire, compared to Mr. Weasley’s G sweater.

“Deal with her, I’ve got the kids-“ Mr. Weasley said, as he hurried over to you two. “Come here love, let me have a look at your paw-“ He tried to joke, to get her to smile through her tears. Of course, it worked. She smiled, you calmed down, and he worked on applying a palm to her burnt flesh. Something of his own invention, given it smells so sweet.

“Renka, you can’t just keep doing this-!” The curse breaker would shout at her, as he would steal one of the posters from the air. The moment his working eye fell on it, he gasped. Made his scars stretch out even farther. Made your stomach twist.

You had no idea what he said, but it was in a string or another language. One you didn’t know. Seemed Mr. Weasley did, as he snorted. Saying something about how ‘that must have been where Ginny got her potty mouth from-‘ or something.

“Thats Billy. He works at a little ole bank, called Gringotts-“ He explained, before Abigail was soon in his arms. Comforting her, as he would hold your hand as well. Her on his hip, and you close to his side. Comforting you both, while Bill and Renka were screaming at each other.

“He’s normally super calm, but he’s sensitive when it comes to werewolf stuff. That’s the face of someone who was attacked by Greyback. Because of his curse breaking skills, he didn’t get entirely infected. He still has side effects, but he doesn’t transform or infect.” He explained, as that had both of you light up. He was kinda like Abigail, but was still living a successful happy life. Hope. That was hope.

“I’ll bite you-!” Bill warned, and that had Renka run. Let her own stupidity chase her away. The man would shake his head, as he looked so exhausted. Seems it’s not the first time those two fought. With a brush of his cloak, he would return to his brother.

“Everyone ok?” He asked, as you just couldn’t stop staring. You wondered so many questions. How does he eat? How does he still have teeth? Is he actually blind? What happened?

“My posters….” Abigail sniffled, which caused Mr. Weasley to kiss her head. Comforting her. That’s when Bill offered his own arms, and Abigail was handed over. The moment she was handed over, it was like a switch. She seemed to instantly calm, and nuzzled his neck. The bond of wolves.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll talk to my pal, Ragnok at Gringotts. See if he can pull any strings on trying to help out the HogsHead. I know Georgie will, by seeing on making wolfsbane to supply the tavern.” That had you both gasp. You were confused. You were told goblins were greedy monsters. Was that a lie? A stereotype?

“They’ll listen to him. Billy is pretty much their kid there. Just a bunch of old men, and their favorite grandkid.” Mr. Weasley laughed, as Abigail had stars in her eyes. There was hope. So much hope for the future.

“Just leave it to us. Now, let’s get you two back to Hogwarts. Hm?” Mr. William said, as you two nodded. That was enough adventure for one day. Even for the likes of Hogwarts kids.

Through a secret passage way, that Mr. Weasley knew, you two were back in the castle walls. Sent away with a few sweets to calm the burns, and show your good deeds deserved compensation.

“He’s like me-!” Abigail couldn’t stop bouncing, as she bit at her Bloodlollipop. “He’s like me-!” Was her chant, as she bounced. He was just like her, and that had you smile.

There was hope for her, and her pack. People who actually cared about them, and wanted them to succeed. To be equal, and have as much of a life as they did. Help did exist, and not everyone thought like Renka. There were people who were even like Abigail, and could still live fulfilling lives.

The future looked bright, and damn. You wanted to keep seeing Abigail smile.

[sayruq]

Police in the Turkish city of Adana detained 11 suspects, five Israeli and two Syrian, on allegations of organ trafficking, the Daily Sabah reported on 5 May. The Provincial Directorate of Security's Anti-Smuggling and Border Gates Branch began investigating after examining the passports of seven individuals who arrived in Adana from Israel about a month ago by plane for the purpose of health tourism. The two Syrian nationals, ages 20 and 21, were found to have fake passports. Further investigation revealed that Syrian nationals had each agreed to sell one of their own kidneys to two of the Israeli nationals, ages 68 and 28, for kidney transplants in Adana. During searches at the suspects' residences, $65,000 and numerous fake passports were seized. Israel has long been at the center of what Bloomberg described in 2011 as a “sprawling global black market in organs where brokers use deception, violence, and coercion to buy kidneys from impoverished people, mainly in underdeveloped countries, and then sell them to critically ill patients in more-affluent nations.” The financial newspaper added, “Many of the black-market kidneys harvested by these gangs are destined for people who live in Israel.” The organ-trafficking network extends from former Soviet Republics such as Azerbaijan, Belarus, Ukraine, and Moldova to Brazil, the Philippines, South Africa, and beyond, the Bloomberg investigation showed. Accusations of Israeli involvement in organ trafficking also apply to the occupied Palestinian territories. In 2009, Sweden's largest daily newspaper, Aftonbladet, reported testimony that the Israeli army was kidnapping and murdering Palestinians to harvest their organs. The report quotes Palestinian claims that young men from the occupied West Bank and Gaza Strip had been seized by the Israeli army, and their bodies returned to the families with missing organs. "'Our sons are used as involuntary organ donors,' relatives of Khaled from Nablus said to me, as did the mother of Raed from Jenin as well as the uncles of Machmod and Nafes from Gaza, who all had disappeared for a few days and returned by night, dead and autopsied," wrote Donald Bostrom, the author of the report.Bostrom also cites an incident of alleged organ theft during the the first Palestinian intifada in 1992. He says that the Israeli army abducted a young man known for throwing stones at Israeli troops in the Nablus area. The young man was shot in the chest, both legs, and the stomach before being taken to a military helicopter, which transported him to an unknown location. Five nights later, Bostrom said, the young man's body was returned, wrapped in green hospital sheets. Israel’s Channel 2 TV reported that in the 1990s, specialists at Abu Kabir Forensic Medicine Institute harvested skin, corneas, heart valves, and bones from the bodies of Israeli soldiers, Israeli citizens, Palestinians, and foreign workers without permission from relatives. The Israeli military confirmed that the practice took place, but claimed, "This activity ended a decade ago and does not happen any longer." Israel’s assault on Gaza since 7 October has provided further opportunities for the theft and harvesting of Palestinians’ organs. On 30 January, WAFA news agency reported that the Israeli army returned the bodies of 100 Palestinian civilians it had stolen from hospitals and cemeteries in various areas in Gaza. According to medical sources, inspection of some of the bodies showed that organs were missing from some of them. On 18 January, the Times of Israel reported that the Israeli army confirmed reports that its soldiers dug up graves in a Gaza cemetery, claiming its soldiers were trying to “confirm that the bodies of hostages were not buried there.”

[mercy-misrule]

mouthwashing spoilers, discussion of fictional sexual assault, fictional emotional abuse

Curly chat!

ok so I have some Curly thoughts. Just the way I'm reading the story. A little bit of conjecture.

See the thing is, I think Curly DID approach Jimmy after Anya told him about the assault the first time. AND I think he believed he 'fixed' it. I think that Curly believed Anya 100% and he thought that the way to deal with the issue was to discuss it with Jimmy and maybe extract some sort of promise not to touch her again etc. That part doesn't matter.

Because one of the things that fascinates me about Curly is that he never questions Anya. He asks who the father is, and then that's it. He instantly accepts Anya's response.

And that's such a different reaction than the average narrative about revealing your abuse to someone. Straight up, it is so rare to have someone believe you at first go. People minimise it, question you, ask, are you sure?

But Curly says, we can fix this.

It's worse than if he was a bro before hoes dude. He's not. What he is? He is a person entirely motivated by fear. Curly's number one motivator is "Please don't be mad at me."

And that causes him to freeze into inaction, causes him to people please to a fatal degree, causes him to fail at his job as an authority.

Take Anya stealing the gun. Look at the situation from an objective, unemotional perspective.

A person on your crew has stolen and hidden away the only gun on the ship. You find out that they have fear for their and maybe other's lives and have motivation to use this weapon.

The captain's move here is to insist on the weapon being returned. The captain's move is to threaten punishment and follow through. That is the duty of a commander, to secure the safety of the crew.

But Curly first begs her, tries to cajole her with promising no punishment. And then when Anya says that she's keeping it so Jimmy can't find it...he doesn't push the issue.

Because he cannot enforce his will on her, because it will make her upset with him.

Curly discloses the fate of their employment hundreds of days early, because the other option, telling them 48 hrs before they land will make the entire crew mad at him.

His whole plan here is all about anxiety reduction, his own anxiety. The desired outcome is 'please don't be mad at me'.

The first thing he asks Anya after she tells him that she told Jimmy about the pregnancy, is "Was he angry?"

and then when he finds Jimmy, its nothing but assurances, nothing but begging that it will be ok.

And when Jimmy gets angry with him, and then says the most ominous stuff about them all dying, and how its all Curly's fault...

Curly freezes. Curly doesn't respond. The worst thing in the world has happened...someone is mad at him.

Taking responsibility in this story isn't about how Curly shoulda beaten Jimmy up. It's responsibility for your own actions or lack thereof.

Curly's fear, his passivity, his fear of confrontation is a foundational flaw.

Being non-confrontational is often framed as a positive and I love that we see the negative aspect of this. Some things need confrontation.

Curly's lack of side taking ends up being taking Jimmy's side, even though that's not his intent. Inaction! Passivity! Hoping it will all work out somehow!

I like that Curly's motivation is so self focused. The sort of character he is, its such a real thing. Stay friends with a person you absolutely know is bad news because the alternative is confrontation. Don't even question it. Close your eyes and ears and hope that the repeated behaviour you see will stop if you're nice enough.

If you put yourself in the line of fire, isn't that leadership? He'll fix this, Anya! He'll fix this Jimmy!

It's not a fixable situation. A crew member has sexually assaulted another member. She is now pregnant. They are on a ship halfway through a year long trip, in close quarters, with no brig, with minimal medical support.

There's no way to get through this without massive confrontation, without compromise. No one is walking away from this situation happy.

But Curly's focus narrows down to 'how can I make it so no one is mad at me?' A fear based motivation will always leave you weakened. It's never a strong foundation to build on.

And then the end result: Jimmy tries to kill them all. Curly is left the most vulnerable a person can be. Everyone around him is a threat to him and each other, and they are all at the mercy of Jimmy's temper, his displaced guilt and rage, his incompetence.

Because the other thing about Curly? Is that being a people pleaser does work. It's always going to have a downfall, it's always going to backfire, it's always going to hurt you and others, but people like being appeased!

Add that into what we know is Curly's technical competence as a pilot and no wonder he's been successful for so long, even knowing as we do that he's clearly massively depressed, in this toxic friendship with Jimmy and so unhappy with everything.

Jimmy is not a people pleaser, he wants control at any cost. He's also too incompetent to maintain it, except over Curly.

He had control of Curly in their relationship. He could lash out verbally and Curly acquiesced.

I think its really interesting to look at Curly and understand the damage you can do to yourself and others by never confronting your own fear. You fail your own values, you give in where you should stand strong.

Mouthwashing would be such a boring game if Curly was just on Jimmy's side, blindly, and then the writing would suggest that Jimmy's subsequent abuse and violation of him is somehow karma.

That would be gross, and lazy. The shittiest sort of narrative.

Instead there is no justification of Jimmy's violence towards anyone, especially Curly and Anya, except from Jimmy himself. Jimmy's cruelty to post crash Curly, just him exercising that control.

And what a fascinating thing it is, the repeated refrain of 'I can fix this!' in a game about taking responsibilty. You can't. You can't fix this.

[sev-on-kamino]

sev 🥺🥺🥺 “that really does make you hard. i can feel you pulsing inside me” with cody? playing with fire and making him mad? 👀👀i love you

kit @corvod I need you to know that this quote with Cody of all people really altered my brain chemistry. I hope you enjoy this lil spicy morsel! prompt is in orange this time!

word count: 621 (my hand slipped, but I caught it)

warnings: unprotected piv sex, biting, the world’s shortest predator/prey chase, Cody being Cody, MINORS DNI

dividers by the homie @dystopicjumpsuit

Cody was the patient one from his batch. No one knew that necessarily because no one ever tested his patience. His orders were followed immediately without question by everyone under his command. Even your natural aversion to authority didn’t make you immune to Cody’s will. He spoke, you listened. He said jump, you said how high?

Inversely, Cody respected your position as a medical officer, and didn’t give you shit when you laid out a treatment plan. This typically made both of your lives far easier than they had any right to be given that you were usually in active war zones.

So the current standoff between the two of you was fully uncharted territory. You’d given your orders as the medical authority aboard the *Negotiator* and Cody had less than respectfully declined.

Your eyebrows shot up, accompanied by several confused blinks.

“Excuse me?” you asked, as though you hadn’t heard him properly.

“I have shit to do, saraad,” He replied, picking up his helmet from the side table. “Don’t give me that look.”

“Yes, you do have shit to do…following my orders,” you said, eyes darting towards the helmet. It was a split second decision to snatch the bucket right out of his hands.

Cody’s eyes widened in utter shock before narrowing dangerously.

“I give you a lot of leeway because you’re good at what you do, and you fuck like an angel.” His voice was low, calm, and steady. “Don’t let that go to your head and get you in trouble.”

He held his hand out for his helmet, but you clutched it to your chest, your chin raised defiantly. The marshal commander released a humorless laugh, and took a step towards you.

Fear and arousal jockeyed for position, and ultimately settled side by side low in your belly, as you took a step back.

You made to exit the medbay with the stolen equipment, but Cody was like lightning. One powerful arm looped tightly around your waist, holding you against his armored chest, while his free hand easily tugged his helmet right out of your grip, tossing it onto the table once more.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered nervously.

“Oh fuck is right,” he replied, spinning you around to face him.

In 2 minutes and 30 seconds, Cody had you naked and riding him on top of a crate in the supply closet. Your soft body would bear marks from the unyielding plastoid, and his iron grip for days.

“Can’t believe you had the balls to challenge me,” he groaned against your neck, as you rolled your hips against him.

“You fucking deserved it,” you replied, turning your head to bite him just below his jaw.

His grip tightened, and he pulled your hips flush against his.

“Who do you think you are?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Your saraad,” you said, stealing a kiss, and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His cock twitched inside you, eliciting a surprised hum from you.

“Say that again,” he ordered. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Commander.”

“Fuck, I like hearing that. Almost too much.”

“It’s true. I’m yours.” Again you could feel his cock jump at your words. “That really does make you hard. I can feel you pulsing inside me.”

“Careful, or I’ll fill that pretty little mouth of yours next.”

“I thought you had things to do,” you moaned, as he adjusted his hold on you to drive the head of his cock into the sensitive place inside you, that had your head spinning.

“Making you come for me was already on the list,” he said, as his nimble fingers found your clit, driving all thoughts beyond your impending orgasm right out of your head.

tagu list: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @808tsuika @sleepingsun501 @starrylothcat @ladyzirkonia @wings-and-beskar @pb-jellybeans @clio3kantarella @stardusthuntress @idontgetanysleep @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @mandos-mind-trick @amorfista @kimiheartblade @freesia-writes @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @mooncommlink @1vlouds @moonlightwarriorqueen @starqueensthings @dangraccoon @idoubleswearimawriter @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @dreamie411 @nunanuggets @foodmoneyandcats @cdbkake1565

[sundrop-writes]

Stop? (Baby, Don't Stop)

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

Gar can’t say no to you. But he can’t bring himself to see that as a problem. (aka - Gar is very stressed out about everyone else's problems, so you force him to de-stress in the best way.)

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 1,800

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: spoilers for Titans S1, S2, and S3 if you haven’t seen the show before and want to watch it unspoiled, this is set during S3 when the Titans are staying at Wayne Manor, passing mentions of Gar’s trauma (him being killed during Trigon, him being kidnapped by Cadmus, his parents’ death), dom/sub dynamics - Gar is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, the reader calls Gar ‘baby boy’, the reader and Gar have an implied pre-established relationship, Gar (kind of) goes into subspace but it’s not explicitly mentioned or described as such, the reader has a vagina, penis in vagina sex, the reader rides Gar, overstimulation - the reader rides Gar through his orgasm and overstimulates him, possibly dubcon - the reader oversimulates Gar when he is not expecting it and he’s in a murky headspace but he does enjoy it and it’s stated in the narrative that he does not want it to stop (hence, the title), finger sucking (Gar sucks on the reader’s finger), unprotected sex, sloppy sex, hopefully that is everything. Just know that this is in line with my usual brand of filth.

A/N: This is one of my favourite Gar smuts that I have written, so I had to re-post it first. One of my favourite smut tropes (kinks?) is riding a guy through his orgasm and overstimulating him - vastly underutilized. And I randomly got thinking about this + Gar this morning, so have this. I missed my green haired boyfriend, so there will definitely be more smut with him coming soon (I am thinking some stuff with virgin!Gar maybe? let me know what you think of that idea lmao).

....

Gar was someone who had experienced a lot of hardship in his life. 

His parents dying when he was still so young, him suddenly having a set of metahuman powers that he wasn’t prepared for - powers that he was kind of terrified of and definitely didn’t know how to use responsibly. Him literally being murdered by his dearest friends while they were under mind control, and then being brought back again and having to heal from the mental and physical injuries. The severe medical torture and resulting mental shitshow that Cadmus had put him through. 

It was a lot to have to push down during everyday life, having to pretend he was okay - having to put up a front for everyone else when they simply assumed that he was. 

But there were a lot of times when he could forget about all that. Times when he wasn’t actively suppressing his trauma because you made things okay - because you distracted him in the absolute best ways. Times when he thought that literally everything in life was just perfect. And most of those times were when you were on top of him like this. 

He would consider this nothing short of literal heaven. 

The feeling of your sweet, wet cunt clenching down on him as he laid flat on his back, splayed out on one of the many luxurious beds of Wayne Manor. 

(“You need to relax.” You had told him, taking him by the hand and dragging him into the random bedroom. “You’re worrying way too much about everyone else right now. Someone needs to take care of you.”) 

And while he had not at all put up any physical resistance against you, pliant under your touch as usual, that conversation had originally started out as him protesting against your thesis. He had told you that: no, he was worrying just the right amount about everyone else, that they needed him. But his protests had quickly died down when you shoved him back onto the bed and drowned out his voice with your tongue. 

Gar always had a very hard time saying no to you. 

He wasn’t sure if it was selfishly motivated. From the outside looking in, others probably say that it was. Considering that he was a guy, and you were just as horny as him - he never felt the need to say no to you. Especially considering the fact that he had never felt a greater sensation than that of your wet pussy surrounding his cock. 

And usually with the promise of that dangling over his head, you had gotten him to do a great number of compromising things, both minuscule and potentially life changing. Or perhaps it was because you were the sweetest little vixen that had captured his heart. And any time you batted your eyes and asked him to do something in that sweet voice, you might as well have been casting a spell on him. 

And he knew that it wasn’t just a weak spot he had for you. 

You had worked that magic on Conner and Jason before. Gar was actively working under the firm belief that if you simply approached Jason and asked him to stop killing people nicely please, then he would take off the Red Hood mask and surrender himself politely, no questions asked. 

But all of that was the farthest thing from his mind as you bounced on his cock. 

With your hands sitting on his shoulders, your nails digging into his bare skin. His shirt had been lost at some point while his pants were shucked off around his ankles and caught up against his shoes. But he could barely even focus on his lack of nakedness or your own because he was obsessively caught in the feeling of your cunt warmly hugging around his hard cock. 

Though he was slightly wishing that your shirt was off, but far too pussy drunk to simply reach out and lift it off so he could enjoy the sway of your tits in his face without obstruction. 

You were a perfect wet vice around him, leaking wetness down over his heavy balls and smearing it up over his stomach as you bounced. And all Gar could really do was take a gentle hold on your hips and appreciate the ride. His face was absolutely knit with pleasure in a way that made you giggle with delight, watching his almost caveman-like expression of tight brows and a heavy set jaw as he stared at the place where you were joined with utterly intense concentration. 

You had never seen a prettier man in all your days - those big brown eyes entirely rapt with pleasure, soft lips and a glisten of sweat across his skin that made you even more intent on ruining him. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby boy?” Your voice laced around the words, breathy yet so commanding, so strong, holding the power over him as you always did. 

It was enough to send a rumble through Gar’s chest, a sharp echo of pleasure from your words. 

That was the sacred question. 

Of course, Gar never wanted it to end. Ultimately, he just wanted to stay like this forever - buried deep in your sweet cunt, feeling that intense warmth hugging him, having your perfect scent surrounding him and having every worry in the world pushed out of his brain. 

But he did feel all the telltale signs - that almost painful tingle in his balls and that deep twisting in his gut that told him it was going to he over too soon. He was going to cum for you, just like he always did. 

All he could gather in response was a choked off grunt. But you knew his language well enough by now - you knew him when he was swimming this deep in pleasure, and you certainly didn’t need words. You knew it just by the expression on his face, the growing look of tight-knit desperation, the gentle whimpers that began to escape his lips. 

Something so enticing that it caused you to run a thumb along his bottom lip, finding the curve of his mouth to be all too pretty when he let out those sweet little sounds. Naturally, he drew the digit inside and began sucking on it, enjoying the tang of your natural skin oils, something that only pushed him closer to the edge. 

Feeling that that sharp whine punched out of his chest, vibrating around your finger only caused you to double down. You bucked your hips harder, riding him with an almost vengeful kick, as though you were trying to push his entire body down through the bed. It was something that caused a loud, pornographic wet smacking to echo through the room - a blatant signal to anyone walking by that the two of you were going at it like rabbits. 

If Gar had any sense left between his ears, he would have been thankful for it being such a large house. He would have been thankful for some sense of privacy. 

Instead, he was totally brainless as the feeling of orgasm overtook his body. His mouth went wide around your thumb as he released a litany of almost pathetic moans and whimpers and he arched back into the bed, a pure exorcism of pleasure overtaking him. He mindlessly endowed his animal strength onto you - digging his fingers into your hips and forcing you down onto his cock for a few moments, forcing you to still on top of him as he shot his load of hot cum inside of you. 

This caused a few hot moans from your lips, nothing but pure enjoyment as you watched the radical pleasure rock him. 

It was such an intense orgasm that it made his muscles seize and jump, it easily made his balls ache. By the time his cock had spurted those last bits of cum into you, he thought that his dick would willfully go limp and fall out of you, being just as tired as he was as he collapsed back onto the bed. But he was still semi-hard and throbbing inside your pussy, tingling with overstimulation as you unconsciously clenched around him. 

You leaned down to his panting lips, sealing him in a hot kiss. 

Gar let out a strangled shriek when you began bouncing your hips again. 

A shockwave of hot pin needles flew up his body from the point where you were joined, erratic hot overstimulation overtaking him. His cock forcefully filled with blood again as you clenched down on him harder. Clearly, you were gaining some thrill out of feeling the extra slickness of his cum sliding between the two of you, out of hearing just how wet your thrusts were now. 

Gar let out another sharp whine and moved his very limp hands back to your hips. In his mind, it was an attempt to shove you off him, to take a fucking breath. But his fingers only dug into your flesh harder and pulled you down onto his cock with force when he felt a particular hot streak of pleasure flare up through his gut. It was almost against his will - but your pussy was just too fucking good. 

“Too much.” He moaned out weakly, a hot puff against your lips, the first thing he had said in an hour of more. “‘s too much.” 

You found the way he slurred the words to be entirely adorable - as though he was quite literally drunk on your pussy. The wide gape of his mouth, trying to draw in breath as you continued to punch it out of him, and the tears pricking the edges of his eyes only made it more beautiful. 

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, slightly breathless yourself. 

You continued to slam your hips down on his cock, over and over again planting yourself in that filthy puddle of your mixed cum. 

It was a traitorous question. 

It was too much of a strain on his body, but it was everything he wanted. He was breathless and brainless and nothing else in the world existed except for your wet cunt squeezing his aching cock, your natural smell filling the world around him, the hot press of your tits against his chest. 

The word ‘stop’ didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary. 

He let out a strained choking sound, and found himself unconsciously bucking up into you - he found himself enjoying the painful sting that ran through him. Tears leaked from his eyes, and when you reached up to wipe them away, you gave him one last thoughtful sentiment. 

“Tell me to stop and I will.” You whispered quietly against his cheek. 

But it seemed that you already knew what his answer would be. 

Gar put a hand on your back, cradling you close, shoving his face in your neck and breathing in that perfect aroma of your sweat. 

Stop? 

You ground your hips down into him, creating nothing but a filthy wet ache. He choked on a moan and found himself holding you still once again so he could fuck up into you harder. 

“Please.” He moaned weakly against your skin. “Please, don’t stop.”

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • VII

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 4.4k

General Fanfic Warnings: 18+, explicit language, smut, alcohol, drugs, violence, mentions murder/suicide, panic attacks/anxiety, nightmares

Authors note: Chapter Seven - I wish I wasn't lost (EDITED 09-03-24)

new? start from chapter one here

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY, IN REAL LIFE! IT IS SIMPLY FICTION, AND JUST FOR FUN! THINK OF THEM AS ACTORS LOL.

+

I moaned as she slid down one more time and I gripped her hair, holding her still. I filled her tongue as threads of my release coated the back of her throat. The sight below me left my legs shaking as I pulled away, tucking her hair behind her ears, and rubbing my fingers underneath her chin in endearment.

What have I done?

“Good girls swallow,” I whispered and she moaned.

“Open,” I said, watching in complete reverence as she stuck out her tongue, showing me that she obeyed, drinking in all of me.

I leaned down towards her, pulling her chin up to kiss me as I melted into her lips, sighing with commitment.

What have I done?

+++++

NOAH

I wonder how How can it be that two souls live beneath my chest? I wander on Through the snowfall And the firestorm

One week passed.

I had resorted to stealing from a few homes, but the objects I took were worth nothing compared to the cost of Y/N's drugs. After selling everything, I only made 4.5k, barely enough to maintain my daily goal of 645; and I was desperately trying to come up with another scheme to earn more cash. With my stolen money in hand, I went to one of D's associates, feeling a surge of anger at the smug grin on his face as he greedily snatched the envelope from my grasp.

‘Having fun Sebastian? Surprised you even made this much yourself.��It took everything in me to walk away without bashing his fucking face in.

As each day passed I was being eaten alive by guilt, and I could barely look at Y/N. She noticed the shift in my behaviour, persistently asking me what was wrong and if she had done something.

‘Nothing,’ I would say.

‘Just stressed,’ I would say.

Our final night together was the night I stole her medication. As she held me in her arms, drifting off into a peaceful slumber, I couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. Instead, I quietly cried while she slept, unaware of the lies that lay next to her.

The next morning, I lied and said I would sleep in the spare bedroom across the hall. The expression on her face was heart-wrenching.

‘Oh, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know that the nightmares are hard to deal with.’ She had said, her eyes falling briefly before she attempted to hide her expression with a smile.

My heart yearned at her words, wanting to hold her against my chest, ready to block out all the evil in the world if it meant protecting her. It wasn’t the nightmares that pushed me away, it was myself.

‘I don’t want to invade your space more than I already am.’ I responded.

I watched her take her pills when she did, my chest clenching in shame with every sip of water that followed the lies.

I wish I wasn't afraid of The haunted valley

The boys watched the remorse control me as I began to shut off the world, secluding myself from Y/N, and them.

I wish I wasn't a failure That nobody needs

“Noah?”

In the depths of my mind, I'm lost and confined A question gnaws at my core; I can't deny

“Noah.” Am I a mere illusion, a ghost in the crowd? Or do I carry a soul screaming out loud?

“Noah!”

I pulled out my earbuds at the call of my name, and my eyes squinted open. Ruffilo stood over me as I lay on the mattress in the basement, drowning in lyrics. The music blared from the removed bud as Nicholas glared, folding his arms.

I wish the voices in my head stopped their shrill tongues Just for a second so I could breathe some fresh air For a moment so I could stop sinking into despair I am a traitor in the face of myself

“Did you want to work on the song?” He asked, “Or are you wallowing in self-pity?”

A slave to a maggot that eats away my soul I ask the mountains to consume me as a whole How long will I be captured in this maze in the hail?

The song.

Y/N had hooked us up with a gig at Sammy’s tomorrow night, and Jolly had the brilliant idea of finishing our first-ever set with an original song; despite us never even playing for an audience. I wasn’t sure if I was more nervous about playing some shitty music in front of an audience of strangers, or that one of the audience members would be Y/N.

I shrugged and closed my eyes, sinking into the softness of the pillow with the bud still in my ear. Nicholas shook his head at me. He leaned over, tugging on one earbud to make me listen to him.

"Come on, you can't mope forever," he said with a sigh.

"I can try," I retorted, pulling the bud back from him as I sat up.

"You've been ignoring her for days. Can't you see how much it's hurting her? You messed up, not her." Nicholas' words hit me like a slap in the face.

I turned away from his piercing gaze, but I couldn't help but notice Jolly and Folio pretending to work while eavesdropping on our conversation.

"She's been bringing your regular coffee every day after work because you haven't even been showing up," Nicholas continued, his tone sharp.

I felt guilty as I chewed on the inside of my cheek, unable to meet anyone's eyes. She has?

I rolled my head back “I know. None of it is fair to her.”

Nicholas perched on a chair by the wall, observing me with caution in his eyes. "You need to stop taking your guilt out on her," he said.

I let out a deep breath and got up from the bed, tossing my earbuds onto the sheets. "I can't even look at her without feeling like she sees through me," I admitted.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Nicholas asked.

I scoffed and threw my hands up in frustration. "Yes it is, because I took her pills and had to watch her swallow fake ones," I ranted as I paced around the room. "Pills that are supposed to help her, but are nothing but deceit!"

Nicholas kept his gaze on me, his brow furrowed. Folio's face also showed disappointment as he watched from the side.

"She takes those pills expecting relief, but I took that away from her!" I stopped walking for a moment, pressing my palms against my eyes and exhaling loudly in turmoil.

"You made a choice," Nicholas stood up and approached me, standing in front of me.

He looked into my eyes with a mix of anger and sadness. "I hate seeing you like this, Noah, but you messed up."

"I know I messed up, Nick," I replied, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Nicholas wrapped his arms around me, offering comfort.

"You need to tell her," he advised, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

I collapsed into his hug, holding onto my brother tightly. "I can't...not yet," I whispered.

“So you plan on ignoring her for weeks until everything with D is over?” Nicholas shook his head, “We’re living with her now. You can’t just avoid her and you shouldn’t after everything she’s done for us.”

I stepped back from him and nodded in agreement, “I know; that’s why I’ve been considering...”

“Considering what?” Nicholas raised an eyebrow.

“A pharmacy robbery.”

“By yourself?” He chuckled, watching me carefully. “Are you serious?”

I heard Jolly laughing in the corner and gave him a sharp look.

“Of course I'm serious,” I shrugged. “But I could make a ton of money from this Vincent guy by getting pure drugs.”

“The last time you pulled off a big solo heist was when we got into this mess in the first place. You don't take on big jobs alone.”

The lights flickered around the room as I sat on the motel bed, my chest heaving with excitement. A seventeen-year-old Ruffilo sat beside me with the tattoo machine ready to brand my knuckles as twelve-year-old Folio watched eagerly.

“Today’s the day,” Jolly cheered, a wide smile stretching across his face as he threw a beer in my direction, “Our young padawan becomes a man.”

The can fumbled between my fingers as I looked down at it proudly, jittering with thrill. Jolly’s never let me drink before.

I opened the can in acceptance, hesitant to take the first sip with shaky hands, before bringing it up to my mouth. The beer was pungent and bitter, my lips puckering with furrowed brows; yeah, it was disgusting.

I tried to hide my distaste with a weak smile, “Yum.”

Jolly laughed, throwing his head back in amusement.

“You might want to chug it,” He said, taking a sip of his own beverage, “the knuckles hurt like a bitch.”

My eyes danced between him and the can as Nicholas and Nick began chanting, “Noah, Noah, Noah!”

Jolly joined with a raised fist, smiling with admiration as I chugged the drink, throwing the can to the floor in excitement as I stomped on it, the scream of elation ripping through my lungs as we all laughed. Nicholas hollered as he grabbed my shoulders, shaking me and I grinned, living within this moment of adventure.

“You ready?” Nicholas said, raising a quizzical brow as I began to feel the buzz. I nodded eagerly, throwing my hands in front of the table placed next to the bed.

Nicholas slid plastic gloves over his own tatted fingers before he wiped my knuckles with an alcohol wipe.

“There’s no going back,” He smiled as I sucked in a breath, anticipating the familiar scratching of the needle as it embedded the letters into my skin.

“Happy fourteenth birthday, baby bro,” Jolly walked over to me, patting my back. He handed me a crumbled paper bag, and with my free hand, I reached inside excitedly, pulling out the fabric.

I bit my lip as I tried to hide my smile but couldn’t. I was finally one of them.

“Your first mask.” Jolly nodded in approval. I tried pulling it over my head but couldn’t with one hand, so Jolly reached over, pulling it down over my face.

He bent down in front of me, his hand on top of my head as he shook me with fondness and it took everything in me not to cry with happiness at his praise.

That evening Nicholas wrapped my knuckles with black tape, protecting the freshly wounded skin. He went over the plan with Jolly, pointing towards the map indicating where I was to go, and where I would meet them after.

“This garage is filled with fancy as fuck cars,” Jolly nodded, leaning over the table, “so you have options. Don’t settle for any car, but don’t linger too long.”

“Remember, Kia’s and Hyundai’s are easier to hotwire, so you’ll have better luck getting in and out,” Nicholas said and I nodded as I jumped up and down, amping myself up.

“The alarms will go off almost immediately once you break in. People in this hotel get that shit valet, so someone is bound to notice right away.”

“Don’t forget, one, Underneath the steering wheel column find the wiring harness connector, Two, Pull aside the battery, ignition, and starter wire bundle, Three, Strip about 1 inch of the battery wires and twist them together. Fourth, Connect the ignition on/off wire to the battery wire.” Jolly listed and I nodded with each of his commands, reciting them back, “And don’t forget to break the steering lock or you won’t be able to drive.”

“Wire bundle, trip and twist, ignition to the battery,” I repeated, “Steering lock.”

+

“Well, I have no choice,” I threw my arms up, laughing, “What, you want me to ask Y/N then?”

Ask Y/N…

“No but-” Jolly started, but I interrupted him. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. She could be a diversion. A distraction in the plan.

“Y/N could be an extra body, and perhaps…” I trailed off, my mind wandering in thought. Yes, this was crazy; and the idea that followed even more so…but perhaps it could work.

“Okay,” Nicholas said as anger started bubbling from his tone as he watched me with disbelief, “And?”

“And,” I grabbed his shoulder as a smile wound up on my lips, “I can steal Y/N’s prescription while I’m there, and then replace her meds. So, she’ll never know.”

Nicholas rolled his head back in annoyance, almost laughing at my words, “Dude, you’re just going to dig yourself a hole here. You can’t be serious. Just tell her the truth about the fucking pills rather than getting her more involved.”

“I will eventually,” I sighed, “Just not now.”

“You do know how hard it is to steal from businesses alone versus a few houses here and there?” Jolly said as he scribbled in his notebook, “What is Y/N going to be able to do? Other than putting her and you in danger?”

“I have a plan,” I said, as I started pacing around the room.

“You’re considering her help? Are you fucking insane?” Jolly’s mouth hung open, “Du är en riktig klydderöv.” (You are an ass who likes to make things harder than they are)

“Listen,” I held my hands up in defence, but Nicholas threw his arms up.

“You can’t be serious; she could get hurt! You’re just using her?” he seethed.

“And you guys aren’t?” I laughed, pointing to the guitars and motioned around the room, “We are fucking freeloaders.”

“Aren't you worried about her getting injured?Caught? Better yet, Arrested?” Nick asked through clenched teeth. Why did he care so much?

“Of course I fucking am!” I growled, trying to not let any more guilt eat away at my insides, “I just want to have her as an extra body for that bit of fear factor. I don’t want her doing anything upfront or dangerous.”

“That’s still dangerous!” Nicholas exclaimed, “The fact she will be in that situation in the first place is not a good idea.”

I nodded in agreement, “I know. But what other choice do I have right now?” My eyes danced past each of the boys.

I knew this wasn’t the best idea, but my options were slim. I wanted to continue whatever was going on with Y/N- I didn’t want to feel this guilt, and if I was being honest with myself…

I was scared.

I was scared she wouldn’t see past my deceit, and I was scared she would hate me. That she wouldn’t forgive me.

I knew I had to make up for everything that had happened, but the first step was getting her proper medication back.

And to do that, I needed her help.

I wonder how How can it be that two souls live beneath my chest? I wander on Through the snowfall And the firestorm

“Let’s work on the song,” Folio changed the subject as the room heated, and I sighed heavily.

“Yeah, whatever,” I sat back on the mattress, pulling up the lyrics I wrote on my phone.

“Whatcha got Noah?” Jolly asked as he picked up the guitar.

“You've run out of luck, and I'm calling your bluff You stabbed me in the back, but not deep enough But not deep enough I see through you.” I hummed.

Jolly nodded as he tried to match the chords.

“Then the chorus, yada yada,” I said, eyes scanning my device as my thumb scrolled the screen.

“You said I'd never make it, you said I'd fall on my face But now I'm right where I belong, and I put you in your place You said I'd never make it, you said I'd make a mistake But now I'm right where I belong, and you've got nothing to say.”

Jolly eyed me briefly with a slight glare as I spoke, and I avoided his eyes.

“I like it,” Nicholas said, plucking the bass.

+++++

Y/N

With my fingers wrapped around the paper coffee cup, I sighed, fiddling with my keys to open the front door to my house.

Noah’s sudden distance made my chest clench in worry.

“look at me, show me those pretty eyes while I fuck your mouth,” he demanded and my lashes flicked up toward him, his body shuddering as I stared into him with complete greed.

The last time we spoke was that night.I chalked it up to him being busy paying back D, but I couldn’t help but feel slightly broken, and that it was my fault for his distance.

Doubt ate at my insides, beginning to regret inviting them into my home.

I wish I wasn't afraid of The haunted valley I wish I wasn't a failure

Maybe Noah saw how unwell I was, after the nightmare. Maybe this whole situation made him uncomfortable. I made him uncomfortable.

That nobody needs That nobody needs That nobody needs

I'm sure he heard me wake up screaming at night, and it hurt me to know that he wasn't the one who came running in to check on me. But that's okay, not that he had to. However, Nicholas was always there in a heartbeat. Living with the boys was easy, and I enjoyed spending game nights with Nick, Jolly, and Nicholas. Surprisingly, we got along well and I developed a close bond with Nicholas over the past few days. He must have noticed my internal struggle because he would often reassure me when I came home between shifts, rushing down to the basement with a cup of coffee to see Noah, only to be disappointed when he wasn't there.

“Hey,” Nicholas had waved, his gaze falling when he saw the coffee in my hands.

“Not home?” I asked, giving him a sad smile.

“No… I don’t know where he is either.”

I shared a curt nod before turning around to run back up the stairs.

“Y/N?” Nicholas called out before I took the first step up.

I stopped, sucking in a breath before sighing, “Did- did I do something wrong?” I asked, turning to look at him briefly.

Nicholas shook his head quickly, “No! No, of course not. You’ve done nothing but be kind to us.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m the problem? Did I scare him away?”

Nicholas’ shoulders dropped as he patted the seat on the couch next to him, pulling me into his side. I rested my head on his shoulder as he rubbed my arm warmly.

“Noah is a difficult creature,” He said, “But I haven’t seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

I sniffed, “Then why is he ignoring me?”

Nicholas stiffened at the question, and I tried to shrug it off, but I knew that he knew.

“I- he’s going through it. This is a lot of money for him to get himself, without any help.”

I pulled away from his hug, “I just wish he would let me help.”

I closed the door behind me, smiling down at Juice as he greeted me. I heard someone puttering in the kitchen and assumed it was Nicholas.

“Hey, Ruffilo-” I shouted, slipping off my shoes and prancing into the kitchen. I immediately gasped in surprise when it was not Ruffilo, but Noah, who sat at the table munching on a grilled cheese. Our eyes locked as we silently exchanged words, and my breath hitched in my throat. Why did I feel so nervous?

My face flushed with embarrassment as I stood frozen in place, staring at him for a moment too long before bowing my head in anxiety. My heart raced, and I couldn't help but want to stare at his perfect smile or the way his long hair framed his face.

"Hey," he said gently, his eyes burning into me as I placed my bag on the counter and took a deep breath. I tried to distract myself by placing his coffee on the counter and grabbing a cup from the cupboard to fill with water.

"How are you?" he asked, still gazing at me intensely. I hesitated before turning around, my back pressed against the counter as I let my eyes meet his. I couldn't help wondering why he suddenly wanted to talk to me after days of distance. Part of me wanted to walk away.

"Um," I took a slow sip of water, the cool liquid offering little relief from the tension between us, "I'm good. And you?"

He watched as I took another sip, his eyes scanning over the glass and my fingers wrapped around it. He hesitated before speaking again, as if afraid of what he was about to say.

"I'm okay," he began, trailing off before looking away, fixating on the ground as he spoke softly, "I've missed you."

My heart raced as he revealed his feelings, and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Part of me wanted to brush off his words, while the other part wanted to wrap my arms around him and give in to his touch. Did he truly miss me, or was he just trying to ease his guilt for being absent for the past few days? Regardless, the way my breath caught in nervous anticipation showed how thrilled I was to see him.

"I got your coffee..." I murmured, not sure what else to say as I turned and handed him the cup. Our fingers grazed each other lightly as we exchanged the drink, sending tingles up my arm and butterflies fluttering in my stomach - reminiscent of the day we first met.

He gave me a small smile and thanked me shyly, but I could sense that something else was on his mind as he took a sip.

For a brief moment, silence hung between us as unspoken thoughts danced in the air.

“I’ve missed you too,” I confessed quietly as my cheeks warmed, and I began playing with my fingers nervously.

Noah’s ears flushed with colour as he genuinely smiled, “Let me take you out tonight.”

“I- I have work,” I stammered, excitement replaced with disappointment.

“Call in. Let me take you on a date.” He shook his head as he took another sip, refusing to let down.

“I can’t afford to call in,” I gave him a sad smile, “But I would love to go out with you this weekend when I’m free?”

“I’ll give you the money then,” He stood up now, grabbing the glass from my hands before pulling my palms into his grasp, “Just let me treat you.”

His October eyes begged as they bore into me, trying to read my mind. I looked away, trying not to succumb to his silent plea but instead, I smiled, looking at our connected hands. Why was he suddenly being this way?

“Stop looking at me like that,” I laughed.

“Like what?” He teased, before sticking out his bottom lip, packing on the puppy dog eyes.  

“Like that!” I giggled, and Noah tugged on my arms, pulling them so they were wrapped around his body as he buried me in his chest.

I sunk into his arms in alleviation as we swayed in the kitchen to the beat of our hearts.

Part of me wanted to pull away, tempted to see if he would bring me back. The other part of me wanted to berate him for his attitude. Part of me wanted him to take me against the kitchen table. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I didn’t want to ruin this moment together.

“I’m sorry I’ve been distant,” Noah whispered now, his voice vibrating from his chest as my cheek was pressed against his soft cotton t-shirt. I nodded against him in response, squeezing his torso as I closed my eyes, my mind beginning to overthink everything that’s happened between us.

I finally sucked in a breath, hesitant to ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

Noah immediately pulled me from his chest to look me in the eyes with a sullen expression, his hands cupping either side of my face, “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re perfect.”

My eyes began to glaze over as my mind eased a little, and I chuckled softly, “Definitely not perfect.”

“Definitely are,” He whispered, hesitating once more before his broken eyes began analyzing my own. He made me feel like I had no reason to think he was lying. He made me feel perfect.

Noah watched me carefully before his eyes closed briefly. He sucked in a breath, hesitating, “I- I think there’s something wrong with me. I’m so lost right now.”

“I hope you know you can talk to me,” I matched his tone, my head tilting in empathy as we stood in the kitchen, holding each other. My fingers gripped onto the fabric of his shirt as I pulled him into another hug, embracing all his insecurities.

“I know,” He sighed, before masking his sorrows with a smile.

“Please come out with me,” He pulled away and pleaded again, the pad of his thumb beginning to graze across my cheekbone before tracing the outline of my lips, “I want to spend time with you. I want to hear your story.”

I smiled at his words, my breath catching in my throat as we watched each other, completely mesmerized as my eyes travelled across the outline of his ochre eyes. The slight stubble outlined his perfect lips that wrapped around the whites of his teeth as he smiled charmingly, and it left my palms sweating.

“You know plenty about me now,” He said gently, concentrated eyes devouring me, “So who are you?”

Subconsciously I began leaning in closer to his touch, our lips inches apart, “Why are you so convincing?” I whispered, the warmth of Noah’s breath cascading along my face.

“Ahem.”

I turned immediately at the cough, and Noah pulled away from me, staring back at the ground. I looked between him and Ruffilo, who stood leaning against the wall, watching Noah with analytical eyes.

“Hi, ruffles!” I then smiled warmly, confused at his interruption but happy to see him. He acknowledged me briefly, nodding in my direction before glaring daggers towards the brunette.

“A date?” Nicholas's eyebrows furrowed as he crossed his arms and spoke with a tone of accusation.

Noah gave him a sharp look and I glanced between the two of them, trying to make sense of their tense exchange.

Noah turned away from us, shaking his head. “It's none of your business.”

“It is my business now.” Nicholas stood up, positioning himself next to me in a protective manner.

I furrowed my brow and took a step back from Ruffilo. “Can someone please explain what's going on?”

A cynical smirk appeared on Ruffilo's face as he let out a quick laugh, scoffing at the brunette in front of him. “You didn't ask her where you really wanted to take her out, did you?”

Noah ran a hand over his face. “I was getting there.”

I looked between them again before turning my head towards Noah. “Where were you planning to take me?”

Noah licked his lips thoughtfully before turning to me. “I need your help.”

Chapter 8

Tags:@crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken

@princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant

@veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs

@flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

@hoe-for-daddywise @philomenie @xxkittenkissesxx @venturethroughtheveil @thefallennightmare

@blend-in-with-the-madness @reyadawn @deathblacksmoke @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @rumoured-whispers @artificialbreezy

[squishmyster]

Crazy, he calls me

Cooper Howard could be described as a husband, father, and a prolific actor but what happens when it all starts crumbling under his feet and one of the only things to give him fresh air is you. His co-worker and one of his closest friends. Will everything including your relationship fail or will it be the one thing that survives even a nuclear fallout.

Authors Notes: HELLO ALL THIS IS MY FIRST FIC SERIES...very much a slow burn...ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRTICSIM IS WELCOME AND I HOPE YOU AAL ENJOY!!!! OH AND ITS IN THE FIRST PERSON.... Warnings: Mentions of dying parent! Prologue~~~ Reunion MASTERLIST

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

Chapter 1~~~ Give Me the Simple Life

The First time that I met Cooper was during the war while I was a medic. We never really said much except a few polite waves and hello's that then turned into polite conversations and heartfelt talks. After the war, we came across each other on the set of A Man and His Dog. 

Arriving earlier than planned to the studio I get out of my car and walk to set I can't help but feel a little sad seeing how this is the smallest role yet but no matter how much I've done as an actress a gig like this is just what I need right now low stress and good pay. Even if I have money saved up I have to pay for my sick parents' medical fees and if I don't work I'll be bankrupt by the time I'm thirty. So I put on a smile, straighten my back, remind myself that I haven't been doing this too long, and make my way inside politely waving and saying hello to anyone I come across. 

After a quick debrief we were told to wait for the rest of the cast and crew to get there. As I was sitting off to the side nursing a very bleak coffee I started people watching taking note of who was talking to who. Looking between small groups of people and watching their mannerisms. That was until my eyes landed on him the man of the hour himself Cooper Howard. Smile shining, eyes bright and full of life. I couldn't stop myself from starring taking in all his dashing features and then we locked eyes it felt like my breath was stolen from me and all I could do was give him a small smile and wave before taking a sip of coffee in my hand which I quickly regretted forgetting that it tasted like burnt rubber and sugar.

Before I could even look up I felt a small tap on my shoulders and heard the voice of the man I was once very close to. "Hey, long time no see".  Looking up at him I smile and give him a slight nod. "Long time no see Cooper, how's life treating you?". seeing him up close is almost refreshing, to say the least after having not talked or seen him after his honorable discharge from the military... it feels like I found something I lost a long time ago. "Hm well... life's been pretty good to me so far, especially since I get to spend a lot more time with my daughter Janey, and what about you?". 

Hearing the light that comes to his voice at the mention of his daughter I smile and can't help it when my mind tries to envision him being a dotting father. Slightly embarrassed I down the rest of my coffee and take a glance looking for a nearby trashcan to discard the cup leaving Coopers lingering glances along my figure and the slight smirk on his face go unnoticed. " That's great I'm glad to hear things have been going well for you... as for me well things are great". Deciding it wouldn't be appropriate to spring family problems on him seeing as it's been years since we have seen each other I keep my answer short and sweet with a billion-dollar smile to match. 

Standing as poise as possible I place the empty paper cup on a table close by and straighten out my dress making sure any visible wrinkles like radium in face cream. "Well-". Before Cooper could say another word we were being called to go to get ready to shoot for something that should be a nerve-racking day being my first time around most of these people but I didn't feel nervous if anything I felt excited and maybe it was because I finally have Coop back in my life but I'm gonna disregard that and just say the excitement is no different this time than any other time I've been excited about a movie I'm acting in.

Saying our goodbyes Cooper gives me a charming smile before turning to leave while I grab the almost forgotten cup and throw it away in the nearby trashcan. After an hour in the hair and makeup chair, my mind drifts to my mother and how she's doing even if it feels like a worthless thought seeing as she's lying in a hospital bed dying and not having been able to see her the past couple of weeks has been harder than I thought. Wishing I could be with her and at least hold her hand through this horrid time. I keep thinking about how I'm failing her by not being by her side and it honestly feels like I'm screaming into a void of emptiness and it's starting to swallow me whole. Holding back tears I try and remind myself that I'm doing this for her no matter how hard it is. Once I'm done with hair and Makeup I head towards the set, push down all former emotions, and plaster on that award-winning Hollywood smile and poised look I'm known for having.

After a long day of shooting, I can say I'm very happy to be out of those hot Western clothes especially since it's a surprisingly humid Tuesday in California. On my way out of the studio, I say my goodbyes my smile is not very forced anymore since I could just go home, check on my mother, and then relax before starting all over again. As I reach my car I hear someone call out my name causing me to turn around but seeing who it was made a smile hit my lips and I lean on the car while he gets closer. " Hey, Cooper... did you need anything?".  

He had a slight jog in his step and once he reached me his smile turned wider and he gave me a quick up and down. Sliding one hand in his pocket he pulls out a cigarette case and lighter putting the bud of the cig to his lips with a flick of his thumb light he puts both the case and lighter in the chest pocket of his black suit." Yes I do actually... your number i hate that we lost contact and well isn't this a perfect time to catch up". Hearing him I feel a little shocked and I can't help but think it's not a perfect time for anything in my life and it takes me a few seconds longer than normal to answer.

Noticing the hesitance on my face Cooper makes a face of his own one that almost resembled disappointment or at least that's what it looked like to me so before he could say anything I did. " I wouldn't mind that". Just like that we were exchanging numbers and saying our goodbyes and once I got home I thought about the day I had. Thought about Cooper way more than I'm willing to admit and after doing it for longer than seemed sane. I called my mom we talked for a few hours before I turned in for the night my dreams filled with nothing but stars.

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

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY AND ALL THAT JAZZ!!!!!

DON'T STEAL MY WORK IF YOU REPOST TAG ME!!! thanks.

Thanks for reading from Squish<3

[circeyoru]

In unwanted souls, I wanna know if the reader can be or is a well known author whether in hell or earth? Like alastor discover something new about them ang they wrote something like harry potter or Tolkien's that are widely famous because of its creativity? And they quit suddenly because of the attention.

-rawr 💜

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

**Read the newest part (part 5) before reading the answer to this ask!! You're spoiling yourself if you don't

That's what the Reader/you would have been if it wasn't for that friend of yours. See, your ideas were stolen and that story became a best seller, later it was adapted into movies and the like. So it got popular and famous.

Now you can't exactly sue them for stealing your ideas since it was hard to prove they did or maybe you were trying to do it. In the end, you had to let it go. But the kicker was that your friend came back to ask for 'ideas' to add to a next story. Being too absorbed, you told that friend your plans and ideas. At the point, you rather people know about your story. You soon learn that you weren't one for attention, so it was unspokenly established that you gave ideas to that friend and the work be published, but not in your name.

As for your career, it's something you don't like or see yourself doing. While you're not suffering financially or lacking in materialistic resources, your psychological and mental well-being was below average. So think of jobs like the medical field or engineering field, something that gets you to take apart things to understand the functionings. It's linked with how your power developed when you got to Hell.

A bit of lore on your powers and abilities then, since we're on the subject.

Conjuring through writing: Because you wanted to be a writer that brings your thoughts to life

Book as your medium: Because you love books and reading them

Understanding before being able to summon things: Because of the nature of your job and the proficiency you held

Regaining energy through a slumber mode: An ironic echo to your death, whereas sleep was the end of your human life, now it keeps you alive (to a degree)

[les-gnossiennes-fantomatiques]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thanks for the tag, @wheel-of-fish ! I’ll do my best not to sound silly here, but I am trying to get back in the saddle of writing again and this felt nice to do as encouragement.

How many works do you have on AO3?

A mere seven stories! I am absolutely pretending the FFN account I had twenty years ago does not exist anymore. (It does.)

What's your total AO3 word count?

161, 882

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

The Fly Agaric

Between the Lines

All Imaginable Pangs

Le Phénomène

All That is Solid Melts Into Air (this fic will haunt me until I die.)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try as much as I can to; I’ve honestly fallen behind this year, since I’ve been on hiatus for medical/mental health issues, but if you see me replying to your comment from a while back in the near future… I am so so sorry, but please know that I am SO deeply appreciative of every single comment that gets left on my stories.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Between the Lines! This one is a Leroux-canon insert that happens during the two weeks Christine is trapped in Erik’s house, and within the context of the fic, it ends badly, and within the greater context of the book… well! You know how it ends. It’s funny, because that was the first fan fic I wrote as an adult trying to get back into fandom after 15+ years of pretending I had moved on from it (spoiler: i did not.) and now I cannot bring myself to write dark endings.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Most likely Le Phénomène. This was written for fluff week and was a massive excuse to have Leroux E/C have sex during a rainstorm without having to worry too much about the plot lol. What can more i say.

Do you write crossovers?

I have! It’s The Follies! And I’m quite proud of it, but it gets zero hits haha, because it’s a Venn diagram of an already small fandom (Phantom) and an incredibly niche one (my favorite musical, Sunday in the Park with George, which is also set in early 1880s Paris and about a troubled artist/muse affair—which, if you’ve never seen it, GO NOW! The proshot is widely available and it’s life changing.). If you’ve ever wanted to see Erik get drunk with Bernadette Peters, then have I got a story for you.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

For the most part, no. I have had a couple of random people who don’t like what I’ll call “hate sex” blast me for writing Erik and Christine having it because, idk their love is pure or something, but that’s mostly it.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! I don’t know if I write smut for the sake of smut (save for the one fluff piece), but I love writing emotional, atmospheric sex into my stories—sex that deepens how characters relate to each other and who they are as a person; people are allowed to have their own interpretations, but for me, sex is such a massive underpinning of most versions of the story and also a big part of my own life’s journey, and I just find it fascinating to write. I don’t know if people find my writing hot though, because things tend to inevitably get a little weird.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

See above.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not since high school, and most of it was written to troll lol. I think now I’m just too picky and slow and set in my ways for anyone to want to collaborate with me, hahah.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Erik and Christine forever. It just is what it is, folks. Their dynamic is so specific and strange and fascinating and I will never get tired of exploring it/reading it/drawing it/writing it etc. Every other ship I love is basically just another iteration of them.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

There’s this Kay!verse horror story (with a happy ending because I’m me) that I started writing; it’s inspired by the myth of La Llorona and takes place during the weekend adult Erik returns to Boscherville to burn his mother’s house down. I really WANT to write it, but I have a story I need to finish first. I also seldom write horror and had to put it on pause because the particular subject matter of this one did not help my mental state lol.

What are your writing strengths?

I feel so silly writing this out about myself, hahah. If I have to say, I am particularly proud of my characterizations, my prose, and the thematic arcs I try to put into every story I write.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot. Oh, god. Plot. Like anything that isn’t angsting, fucking, or fighting is SO hard for me to write. (Hint: call everything a “character piece” and you never have to explain why nothing happens in your writing lmao). Looooong ass sentences. I’m incredibly slow at writing, terrible at outlining, and I second guess myself with every sentence. Someone once told me to my face that my fic writing was purple prose and I guess that still haunts me a bit.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

For the most part, I think it’s a bad idea. Unless you have a genuine handle on the other language, I think you’re better off implying that said language is being spoken through other means. It otherwise usually just reads as really cringey to me, like “Woohoo I ran this through google translate”—especially in smut. A couple of words here and there are fine, especially if there is a word that doesn’t have a 1:1 in the primary language, but something about a bunch of Google translate sentences being pasted into the middle of a story takes me out entirely. Just my preference though, especially when it comes to my own writing; I’m not Tolstoy. I’m not Nabokov. I’m not gonna try. Anyway, end tangent.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I’d say Pharoga, but my current WIP leans into that ship on and off. I really, really want to writeErik and Meg. One day. Or Raoul/Madame Giry

What's your favorite fic you've written?

It’s really hard to say tbh—the process of writing every one of my stories (including Tubeman Rik) has taught me so much about myself as a writer and person. But it’s a split between The Fly Agaric and All Imaginable Pangs. The former was basically the fic I’d been wanting to read and struggling to write for twenty years, and I put so much of myself and my own life experiences into it that it feels incredible to have finally laid it all out and gotten it on paper, even if I worry that I now have nothing else to say about Christine and Erik, haha. But there is something about All Imaginable Pangs that made it so fun to write—I love the challenge of crafting an OC who makes sense in Erik’s past, I LOOOOOVE thinking about the period of Erik’s life where he was trying to live as normal person, before he was jaded enough to become a mole person, and I love that period of time in art and history. It’s been so fun to sit in that world. I expected no one to read it, because I realize that OCs are a very hard sell in this fandom, but I just wanted to create a POV character who was closer in age to me, who’d been dealt a lot of luxury and a lot of shit thrown her way, who also has gray hair and soft thighs lol. That it has gotten any comments, let alone some of the seriously incredible feedback I’ve received across platforms, surprises and delights me. I can’t say whether or not Augustine is a success in terms of a believable original love interest, let alone person, but I like her enough that I’m (slowly) re-writing the whole story from Erik’s point of view.

Well. That was a lot of chatter. I apologize if any of this comes off as pretentious, but I’ve taken such a long hiatus from writing fic and this was a nice little jab in the arm to finish. I’ve had to take a lot of time away from fandom for health reasons, but I’m doing so much better and (i think) finally getting back in the swing of things. If you’ve ever so much as read one of my fics, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Tagging @box5intern @ladystormcrow @flora-gray @muirin007 @antiquarianne . My apologies if you’ve already been tagged.

[homo-adaptionem]

Urbex Tips

Urban Exploration tips:

Learn basic first aid & bring a first aid kit.

Don't go in alone. Bring at least two other people.

Build up your strength before hand.

You need a tetanus shot every 10 years. If you haven't had one in the last 10 years, get one before you start.

If you're asthmatic, bring your inhaler.

Do research on the building / area beforehand. Figure out why it's abandoned. Learn the history. If it's condemned, find out why. Could be health reasons.

Enter at your own risk.

Tell a trusted person(s) where you're going. Give them the location of any places you're exploring. This is in case something happens, they know where you are/were going. Make sure they know who you're going with.

Hard hats. Being serious. Shit falls, even in "newer" buildings.

Wear gloves (thick leather work gloves, not that plastic faux leather shit, actual leather. not disposables, they won't do shit against glass and metal), goggles (to protect your eyes), a face mask (ideally construction-grade but the fabric types will work well enough), thick, long pants (like jeans), work or hiking boots, long sleeves, and something to cover your hair, like a beanie. If you've got long hair, put it in a ponytail and stuff it under the hat. Trust me. Also deodorant is a good idea.

Invest in a headlamp (easier than using a flashlight)

Avoid the "white 16 year old boy with friends" mentality. Don't do stupid shit because it's funny. If that floor seems unstable, avoid it. Don't smash shit. Don't jump down dark holes.

Don't steal shit. It's tempting, but I don't recommend it.

Avoid tagging / making graffiti, esp identifying graff. Again, tempting, but you can still get in trouble for it.

If someone catches you, BAIL. Don't get into a fight. Don't stick around for pigs to show up. Don't engage, just get out of there. Most of the time, urbex is trespassing.

If you find (which you probably won't) large sums of money, it might be best to report it. It could be stolen or counterfeit and get you in trouble if you use it. But ultimately it's your own choice.

If you find (which you probably won't) bloody clothing, blood-covered knives (or other weapons), or a gun, report it. Fuck pigs yada yada, but it could be connected to someone's death. Don't touch anything, don't take anything, just call the authorities and tell them where it is. I mention this because it could be connected to the assault or murder of sex workers, partners, and/or minorities.

If you find drugs (which you probably won't), report it. Don't use it. Could be laced. Not safe to use, bro, not worth it.

If you find a body(s), (which you probably won't), report it. Check for a pulse, but if the body is cold and/or stiff, call the authorities. If they're still warm, you can try CPR on them while you call for an ambulance. If they have a pulse, call an ambulance. If it looks like they're ODing, use some narcan if you've got it.

If you find Satantic imagery or whatever, 9 times out of 10 it's just teens fucking around. Like I promise you, they were probably left by some guys wanting to cause a stir or trying to make their own ARG or something.

The building isn't haunted, sorry to say. There are rational explanations for every "supernatural" thing you'll encounter. Sometimes they're the aforementioned guys. If you're superstitious, scared of the dark, easily frightened, or suffer from psychosis, you're probably gonna have a bad time.

You may encounter looters, homeless folks, addicts, and/or mentally ill/disabled folks. Try to avoid confrontation. Let them be. If they're alive and unharmed, leave them alone. If they're injured or ODing, attempt first aid (narcan, tourniquets, compresses, etc.) and call an ambulance. No pigs, just medical help.

Watch out for animals. Don't pet them. Don't hurt them. Leave them alone. Also watch out for snakes, esp in buildings with a lot of concrete or gravel.

Don't wear iconic or identifying clothing. Don't worry about looking nice. Don't wear shit you like because it WILL get torn, stained, and trashed.

Just… never assume you're alone.

Feel free to reblog with other tips.

[unseenacademic]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by my dear, talented friend @mihrsuri Thanks, friend! 💜💜💜💜 1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 13 at the moment 😅

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 28,823

3. What fandoms do you write for? The West Wing.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? The First Lady - my ongoing fic where I answer the most important question in the world: what was Abbey Bartlet doing during the episodes she didn't appear in?

Josh and the Jackass - what happened right before Governor Bartlet decided to follow Josh to the airport in In the Shadow of Two Gunmen.

Breathe - a post-ep for Dead Irish Writers. Her birthday party is over, and Abbey Bartlet must face the New Hampshire Medical Board.

A Bit Desperate - part three of a series of three-sentence fics about Abbey and Jed in the aftermath of Zoey's kidnapping.

Anything Else I Need to Know - Five times the staff of Bartlet for America interrupted a barbecuing session and one time CJ interrupted a different kind of session. Takes place during the First Bartlet Campaign.

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes, I do. I do my best to respond to every comment I get, as fast as I can. It's a two-way street, we, as fic authors, often complain (and rightly so) about the lack of feedback, the lack of comments and kudos, but we don't respond to comments. As a reader, I am more likely to comment on a fic from an author who's replied to my comments earlier. But I guess I get so few comments that I can easily respond to all of them 🤷‍♀️ and since there are like 7 people who care about what I write, the least I can do is respond to their very kind comments 💜💜

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I guess it's Anything Else I Need to Know. The ending isn't too angsty by itself, but if you put it into context and you know the overarching plot of first few seasons of TWW, it's definitely angsty. Honorable mentions: With Pomp and Parade & And the Silence Haunts our Bedchamber - they both deal with the aftermath of Zoey's kidnapping.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? White Christmas. And Something for Us to Remember too also qualifies. You have to read them to know why 😊😉

8. Do you get hate on fics? Luckily, I'm not popular or interesting enough for that 😅

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes! Oh, all kinds! The worst thing I've ever written came before I started my fanfic writing career (I used to be involved in forum RP, I'm less active there now) and... nope, I'm not going to write about it here. Too cursed. 🙈🙈 If you want to see some sane smut I've written, check out Game On, Boyfriend! I hope I'll write another barbecuing fic soon, so stay tuned.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I don't. But I'd love to see a TWW/NCIS crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I hope not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but if anyone's interested, go ahead.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, I haven't. The closest thing to co-writing fics was RP-ing which is sort of similar, but not really lol. It might be fun, so if anyone's interested in writing with me, let me know.

14. What's your all time favorite ship? Abbey/Jed! There are many ships I love, but I have to go with my horny nerds.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? There was a WIP I started last year, the first fic I posted, but I ended up deleting it, so it's not very likely that I'll ever finish it.

16. What are your writing strengths? I'm really, really good at research lol! If I'm writing a fic set in the 1960s, I'll make sure that they're eating food, wearing clothes, listening to music etc. that was popular in that period. You won't catch any of my characters wearing historically inaccurate shoes. I'm also really good at digging up random canon details and writing thousands of words around them.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plot lmao. I write fics about nothing, it's just banter and nerdiness, with the characters and/or the author showing off 🤣🤣

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Hmmm... I don't know, don't think I've ever needed to do it, but I guess it depends on what I want to achieve, I might write it in English and add a dialogue tag like "she said in French" or something.

19. First fandom you wrote for? The first fandom I published a fic for was The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, but the first fandom I wrote for was Harry Potter.

20. Favorite fic you've written? Can't choose only one, so have a few of them:

Breathe: Once again, Abbey is reminded how cruel the world can be towards women. 

No one asked Jed what he was wearing when he took the censure. 

Anything Else I Need to Know: Josh finally opens the door to his room and slumps on his unmade bed.

Next time, he’s going to pay attention. He’s going to pay attention to Mrs. Landingham’s notes on the Governor's schedule. And he’s going to pay attention to Mrs. Landingham’s instructions, so he’ll know what her notes on the Governor’s schedule actually mean. Next time, he’s going to pay attention.

Had Josh been paying attention, he would’ve noticed when the Governor dashed across the hall and up the stairs right after lunch. Had he been paying attention, he would’ve noticed Leo’s smirk that followed the Governor’s departure. Had he been paying attention, perhaps he would’ve noticed the soft, rhythmic squeaking of the bed and muffled gasps and groans coming from the Bartlets’ suite right before he opened the door.

Well, too bad that Josh wasn’t paying attention.

And Something for Us to Remember too: “I take it your conversation with Doug didn’t go well?”

“I spoke slowly and I didn’t use big words, but I couldn’t talk him out of marrying Liz. Maybe I should’ve taken him on a hike. A six-hour hike through Vermont wilderness in the dead of winter would’ve changed his mind.”

“It wasn’t a six-hour anything! I was there, Jed, you were only gone for two hours.”

“You weren’t there, Abigail, you were baking with your mother, while I was fighting for dear life, braving the cold and wolves and bears.” He sighs and adds, “Guess it’s too late to take Doug hiking now and leave him for the bears.”

White Christmas: “’She – New Hampshire – is one of the two best states in the Union. Vermont’s the other’, said Robert Frost, your favorite poet, who also happened to be the poet laureate of Vermont.” Abbey made a dramatic pause and gave Jed a pointed look.

“She’s one of the two best states in the Union. Vermont’s the other.” She continued her performance. “And the two… the two lie like wedges, thick end to thin end and thin end to thick end.”

Jed chuckled.

“Sweet Knees, we’ll lie like wedges, thick end to thin end and thin end to thick end any time you want,” he leered at her, “on our bed, in front of the fireplace, on the kitchen table…” his smirk grew when Abbey’s lips curved into a little smile and her cheeks flushed, “but Robert Frost named his poetry collection New Hampshire, not Vermont.”

“Well, I’m going to write the words ‘Freedom and Unity’ on the pie and you’re going to eat them!”

The First Lady: “Mrs. Landingham withholds food from me,” he complained.

“Because I asked her to.”

“Yeah, cause you don’t want me eating real food like steaks or hamburgers. She won’t let me have a banana.”

“I’m sure you did something to piss her off.” Abbey shrugged.

“Do you two enjoy torturing me?”

“Yes,” she said innocently.

Tagging (no pressure!): @claudiajcregg @onekisstotakewithme @hondagirll @miabicicletta @librarianmouse @holy-ships-x-red-lips

💜💜💜💜💜💜

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 12: Shiny Celebrity Skin

Summary: Theo makes her celebrity debut, with some unexpected results.

Author's Notes: Okay, I grappled with this one for a while - I tried for so long to figure out how to make a certain plot thread work without a certain celebrity appearing at least once or twice, and well… I couldn’t do it. So, uh, I feel weird doing this, but there is a brief interaction with a  fictionalized(!!!) version of Taylor Swift. This is almost guaranteed to be the only chapter where she actually appears in a scene - there are a few mentions of things happening “off-screen” that she’s a part of later on in the story, but it’s not anything that would involve her actively appearing in a scene.

Obviously I do not know her, I do not own her likeness, and I absolutely do not own her music (I’m team Taylor’s version - WE DO NOT LISTEN TO STOLEN MUSIC IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!). And more obviously, Theo is a fictional character who did not help record any of Taylor’s music. And to make it painfully clear, Taylor is not a villain or a hero in this story, and this isn’t meant to be a commentary on her as a person in any way, shape, or form. 

And look, I know some people are not a fan of Taylor. If you’re in that camp, don’t worry! The interaction is brief, and it’s not meant to make you change your mind. Just hang tight - I *promise* this will be worth it in the long run. 

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: alcohol consumption. Discussions of hooking up. 

Word Count: 5,644

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Celebrity Status - Marianas Trench

I look around, round, look around and look it over, I take it up- up, take it out and, take you nowhere, Trading in who I've been for shiny celebrity skin I like to push it and, push it until my luck is over It never stop stops, never stops, well you better, Think it over prima donna you don't want to sever, All the work to impress, charming girls out of their dresses, And smiling pretty, well pretty will swallow you forever

The celebrity status that came with being an Avenger was exhausting.

Between their public relations team micromanaging every interaction with the press and the constant appearances, it was a wonder there was enough time to actually go on missions. Even if Theo was well-versed in interacting with people in positions of power and putting on a show, it wasn’t how she really wanted to spend her days off.

They had been on a roll - last week, Theo did interviews and cover shoots for two different magazines. The day before, she recorded a 73 questions video for Vogue. In a week, she would fly out to Chicago and feature on Hot Ones.

But before she flew to Illinois, she had a late show appearance to get through. 

It wasn’t until after she arrived and they had a meeting with the production team to run through the order of the show that Theo discovered she was not simply doing a live interview, but she would also be chatting with Chris Anders, an A-list actor who was promoting his newest movie in which he played a combat medic. 

Normally Theo wasn’t thrown off by meeting other celebrities, but even she had to admit she was a bit starstruck. He always looked dreamy in pictures, but in real life he was gorgeous. Like, earth-shatteringly stunning. Bright blue eyes, blond hair, and tanned skin made him the epitome of an all-American guy; if Steve ever traded in his shield for an acting career, he’d probably look like Chris. Theo didn’t typically have a thing for blond guys, and frankly the resemblance to Steve Rogers should have made him appear less attractive, but well… There was something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

At least Theo knew she was dressed to kill. The outfit she chose was a far cry from her scrubs: a black cropped tee with a cropped lace bustier underneath paired with an asymmetric leather midi skirt, all Alexander McQueen, and black Louboutin pumps. The confidence boost that came from looking like a badass was much needed, because even Avengers could get nervous when talking to attractive celebrities, particularly when those Avengers were single. 

In real life, Chris was every bit as funny and charming as he seemed. He laughed at Theo’s jokes and asked questions that made Theo wonder if he had taken the time before the taping to learn more about the sorceress. On camera, the conversation was effortless, lighthearted, and just a bit flirtatious; far from what Theo was used to, but it was fun. Chris was a hit with the audience, but it’d be hard not to be with a smile like his.

So when Chris stopped by Theo’s dressing room after taping and asked for her phone number, she was only slightly surprised. Surprised, because well, A-List Hollywood dreamboat who could have anyone he wanted, and he was asking Theo for her number? Theo, with scars on her face and knobby knees and perpetual bags under her eyes? But not as surprised as she could have been, because the conversation was fun and besides, giving him her number didn’t mean there was any commitment. For all she knew, he simply wanted to keep her number handy in case he was cast as a doctor in the future and needed to ask someone about how to approach the role. 

Of course she gave it to him - that was a no-brainer. Not long after, Theo found her heart fluttering when Chris texted her before she even made it back to the tower, asking if she would be attending the Stark Industries charity gala the following evening. 

After such a successful day, there was an extra spring in Theo’s step when she entered the living room. She nearly didn’t notice Loki, lounging with his feet propped up on the sofa and a book in hand, but when she approached one of the chairs so she could sit down and kick off her heels she spotted the prince.  

Loki glanced up from his book, offering Theo a weary smile and nod; if the bags under his eyes were any indication, he hadn’t been sleeping much lately. 

“You’ve returned from your interview; how was it?” 

“It was fine,” Theo shrugged, ducking down to tug off her high heels. “I mean, it’s one thing to give an interview, but they also asked me to do a segment with Chris Anders - the Chris Anders.”

“Ah, yes - if memory serves, he is a well-known actor.” Loki absentmindedly replied, closing his book and setting it aside. “I take it you are a fan of his work?”

“It’s impossible not to be a fan - he's been in just about every major film from the last few years.’ Theo lightly scoffed at Loki’s apathy about the situation. “We watched one of his movies the other day.” 

“Did we?”

Before Theo could answer, Wanda, Sam, and Bucky strolled into the living room, deeply entrenched in a spirited debate.

“— his performance is so nuanced - a video game could never capture that level of emotion!” Wanda huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest as both Sam and Bucky rolled their eyes. 

“Nuance, Schmuance—“ Bucky retorted, “—the whole point of the game is to shoot aliens! The story didn’t need emotions - all it needed were more aliens!”

“Are the three of you still arguing about your animated game?” Loki interrupted them with an exasperated sigh, massaging one temple with his index finger. “I thought the debate had been settled after viewing the film.”

“Well it was,” Wanda replied, “until they tried to say that the actor playing Tom was probably an asshole. But he couldn’t be - he seems way too nice!”

“Remind me, Maximoff - which actor are you fawning over now?” Loki begrudgingly asked, as if he dreaded the answer.

“—Chris Anders.” Theo rolled her eyes, though she softened the gesture with a smile. “He’s probably the most popular actor in Hollywood right now.” 

At that, Loki perked up rather suspiciously. “The one you met today?” 

“Oh my god, that’s right—“ Wanda exclaimed, turning to Theo. “— You were on the late show with him! How was it? Is he nice in real life?”

“I think it went well?” Theo answered. “I had just finished telling Loki that I ended up filming a segment with Chris and didn’t bomb it, so I’ll call that a win.” 

Loki nodded, flashing Theo a small, timid smile. “Well, I’m certain you charmed the actor just as you’ve charmed the rest of us.” 

“Wait, wait, wait - you not only met Chris, but you interviewed with him?!” Wanda nearly squealed, her mouth agape as she processed the news. “I would have died!”

“You know he’s just a guy, right?” Bucky grumbled, looking wholly unimpressed with Wanda’s fangirling.

“Look, I’ll settle for not putting my foot in my mouth on national television.” Theo chuckled, before coyly adding: “Chris may have asked for my phone number though... And he already texted me to ask if he would see me at tomorrow’s gala.” 

In a tale of two reactions, Wanda looked like she was about to spontaneously combust from the shock and excitement, while Loki looked like someone just told him the sky was blue.

Then there were Sam and Bucky’s reactions in-between, which involved whooping and wolf whistles.

“It seems as though he was rather enchanted by you, then.” Loki cocked an eyebrow, jade eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Theo. “You certainly dressed to impress.”

The comment had some sort of undercurrent that, combined with his piercing stare, made the words seem as if they were not meant to be taken as a compliment. Theo’s heart went from fluttering to stuttering in her chest, her confidence faltering as if she were about to be knocked down from a pedestal.

“Is it too much?” Theo asked a bit too quickly for her own liking; she grimaced as she glanced down at her outfit. 

“No, not at all.” Loki slowly shook his head, tongue darting out to lick his lips. If Theo didn’t know better, she would have sworn his eyes darkened as they roved up and down her body. “It’s different from your typical attire, but pleasantly so. You look… ravishing.”

“Yeah, you look hot.” Sam agreed, elbowing Bucky in the chest as he smirked at him. “She looks hot, right Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll —“ Bucky smirked, “— You keep it up and you’re gonna end up with every guy in this city dreaming about all the things they’d like to do with you.” Despite speaking to Theo, Bucky’s attention and smirk were pointed directly towards Loki. 

Theo’s cheeks flared with heat - partly from Sam and Bucky laying it on thick, though mostly she was relieved that Loki was not criticizing the look. 

When his approval started to matter, Theo wasn’t sure, but she also hadn’t given it much thought. Then again, the prospect of Loki not liking her outfit stung more than the idea of her potential date not being into her outfit… If she was honest, Theo was nowhere near ready to try and make sense of that.

“You can’t leave us hanging - what did you tell him!?” Wanda, having regained her composure, asked the inevitable question. 

“That I was going to be there and a drink sounded nice?” For a moment, Theo wondered if Wanda was going to freak out again. Instead, a smile crept up on Wanda’s face, and Theo could tell something was up. “… Wanda, what are you planning?”

“Well if you’re meeting a movie star for a drink tomorrow, we should probably go shopping so you have something cute to wear…” Wanda perked up, winking at Theo. “Oh! We’ll get Nat to come too - she needs a break from the mat anyways -  and make it a girl’s day!”

Before Theo could point out that she already had a dress, Wanda rushed down the hall shouting for Natasha. Theo glanced at the others — Sam wore a shit-eating grin, while Bucky offered no sympathy. Loki just shrugged, though a glint of amusement reflected in his smile. 

Meanwhile, Theo tried not to scream what the hell did I just get myself into? 

Either way, it didn’t matter - she had a date to get ready for.

When the mirrors and the lights and the smoke clear I’d never guess how we ever could’ve gotten here You can say what you say, when the lights go down So shake, shake, shake and shut your mouth

“Champagne?” A waiter came around with a tray of champagne flutes, offering them to guests throughout the event.

“Yes, thank you.” Chris took two glasses, handing one to Theo and keeping the other for himself.

Across from her, Chris Anders leaned up against a cocktail table. Dressed in a navy slim-fit tuxedo, Chris looked every part of the charming A-List actor that Wanda hyped him up to be. The same charming, boyish grin from the night before was on full display as he drank in the sight of Theo in a black lace gown with beading that glistened and shimmered in the low lights. 

Even if she hadn’t been trying to charm an A-List actor, Theo would have felt like a million bucks. The dress, though more suggestive than what she initially picked, hit her in all the right places and really helped her embrace her more feminine side. The stilettos she wore gave her a precious few inches that made her less likely to feel like everyone towered over her, increasing her confidence.

In some ways, it felt like revisiting her first night in the tower, but this time she knew what to expect. The lack of constant scrutiny from Avengefs and reporters may have also helped. Then again, at the end of the day it turned out that charming people and rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful was pretty much the same, regardless of the realm. 

The idea of spending the evening at Chris’s side was both nerve-wracking and exciting. Theo’s consistent presence and conversation was enough to capture the interest of people she didn’t know, allowing Theo to flex her conversational skills and build her own connections, which in turn made the room full of socialites less surreal. 

Chris was more than easy on the eyes. He said all the right things to pique Theo’s interest. He didn’t ask too many questions, which was certainly a plus, and he easily kept the conversation flowing. With that in mind, Theo wasn’t opposed to cozying up a bit more with him. 

Yet, something in her stomach felt… off.

Maybe it had to do with the non-existent privacy at the event. Wanda, Sam, and Bucky had made a game of lurking nearby, spying on her as the actor talked Theo’s ear off about the film he just finished shooting. Focusing on Chris proved to be a challenge when her friends seemed hellbent on reminding Theo that someone was always watching. They weren’t even subtle about it – all Theo had to do was glance over Chris’s shoulder to see the three of them making kissy faces at her. 

Theo started to wonder if her teammates were going to walk up to Chris and start talking about their movie versus video game debate. She prayed they wouldn’t.

Then again, her friends were far from the only people who kept a close eye on the couple. Frankly, Theo hadn’t truly comprehended just how well-known Chris was until they spent the first two hours of the night constantly interrupted by people trying to get even a moment of the actor’s attention. Even Loki had been observing, though he was far more subtle than her other friends - subtle enough that Theo never noticed that she was the consistent focus of the younger Asgardian’s attention. 

The sensation of everyone watching her was incredibly different from the bars from her first night out with her teammates, when it was easy to fly under the radar. Between being seen with Chris, her rapidly growing social media following, and the recent interview spree, Theo certainly had no shortage of positive attention over the last few weeks.

Chris caught the attention of someone from behind Theo, gesturing for them to come over and join the pair. “Theo, I want you to meet–”

“I was wondering when I would run into you!” Even though it had been years, Theo recognized that voice anywhere. 

Then again, the fact that the voice belonged to the one person at the gala more famous than Chris meant that even if Theo hadn’t known her, she would have recognized the voice. “It’s been ages!”

“Taylor!” Theo spun around, arms already open to greet the popstar in an embrace. “How the hell are you?” In some ways, it was like Taylor hadn’t changed a bit since they worked together: the trademark red lip that highlighted a cheshire grin, long, blonde hair with perfectly disheveled blunt bangs, and an outfit that would undoubtedly sell out the moment pictures were posted online. At the same time, all it took was one close look into her crystal blue eyes to see that she was far different from the Taylor that Theo worked with all those years ago. 

“I’m great,” Taylor leaned back, still half-embracing Theo as she took in Theo’s appearance. “Tell me about you - Clearly you’ve been busy since we last crossed paths!”

“Oh you know, I finished med school. Joined the Avengers. Nothing too wild–”

“--You two know each other?” Chris interrupted the reunion, one brow arched in confusion while he wore a half-scowl as he quickly realized that this was not the introduction he anticipated.

“Oh yeah, Theo played on Red – we go way back,” Taylor answered, barely paying Chris any mind before returning her full attention to Theo. “Speaking of, you’ve heard I’m re-recording my first six albums, right? Would you be willing to re-record your parts on Red?”

The question caught Theo off guard, though in some ways, the request made sense; after all, the goal was to make the re-recordings sound like the originals so whenever someone wanted to license a song, they would have no reason to choose the old recording over the new one. 

But Theo’s parts on the original record were pretty small, all things considered. And up until Theo stepped into the limelight as an Avenger, it would have been much easier to find someone else to record those parts than it would have been to track her down. Besides, Avengers were busy, and so were international pop stars - Theo would have understood if Taylor didn’t want to bother trying to coordinate schedules so they could record together.

“I– uh, yeah – as long as the timing works out, I’m in,” Theo tried to play off her surprise, covering it up with a (hopefully) bright smile. “Just let me know when and where I need to be and I’ll do my best to make it happen!” 

“Perfect.” Before Taylor could say anything else, someone waved Taylor over to join them. She held up a finger, mouthing “just a moment” before returning her attention back to Theo. “Hey, we should grab a drink soon and catch up. Clearly you’ve been busy and I want to hear all about it, ideally when I’m not being dragged around to make appearances.” Taylor winked, taking hold of Theo’s shoulder as she leaned in and whispered in Theo’s ear. “I might have a separate proposition for you, as well…But we’ll save that conversation for another day.” She leaned back, smirked, and cocked an eyebrow at Theo. 

“You know where to find me,” Theo reminded her, returning a wry grin and a wink of her own. It was probably for the best that they didn’t go into catching up at that particular moment, since there was plenty to discuss and in front of Theo’s date was not the best place to do so.  

With that, Taylor waved at another person trying to get her attention and slipped away into the crowd.

“I wasn’t aware you already knew Taylor Swift.” Chris remarked, his attention still focused on the space where Taylor had vanished into the crowd.

“I’m full of surprises, what can I say?” Theo teased, taking a sip of her drink. 

“Well, I look forward to being surprised by you in the future.” There was something about the way Chris spoke that seemed a bit too smooth, too practiced. 

Then again, he was an actor. Performance was at the core of his work, and like Theo he probably reverted to his own acting skills in social situations, especially when he wanted to seem confident. And trying to impress someone on a date was certainly one of the times any sane person would want to feel confident.

“Hey, let’s go dance,” Theo suggested, gliding her fingers down Chris’s arm and taking his hand. As if a switch flipped, the dazzling grin returned as Chris gestured towards Theo to lead the way. Weaving between the couples on the dance floor, Theo waited until they were in the middle of the group before she turned back to Chris, who held his arms in a silent invitation to dance.

“You look stunning this evening,” Chris complimented, pulling Theo close as they moved to the music. “I’m lucky to have such radiant company.” 

Theo’s cheeks burned as she replied with a shy smile. Sure, she trusted her friends’ judgment about what to wear, but that wasn’t what left her flushed at his remarks. He was new, and the intensity of his gaze felt both intoxicating and dizzying amidst the crowd. When Theo looked closely, she spotted a hunger in Chris’s eyes that left her wanting more.

The night flew by. One moment, they were spinning and laughing among the crowd; the next, the DJ announced to guests that it was the last song of the evening. Whether they were ready or not, it was time for the festivities to draw to a close.

The end of the evening did little to dampen the conversation between Theo and Chris as they followed the crowd out the door; if anything, they both slowed down as they approached the exit, stretching out their time together for as long as possible.

Just after they passed through the exit, Chris took Theo’s hand and pulled her aside.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Chris whispered in her ear; his breath tickled, sending a delicious chill down Theo’s spine. “Go back to my place?” 

Behind Chris, Bucky smirked at Theo and Wanda gave her a thumbs up; if Chris hadn’t been watching her so closely, she would have rolled her eyes at the pair. Inevitably, they wouldn’t be the only people who noticed; after all, a plethora of eyes followed them all evening. 

A yes sprung to Theo’s tongue, but just before she said it out loud, she stopped. Realistically, Chris was a stranger to her - sure, she knew the basics about him — the kinds of things someone usually knew about a celebrity — but she didn’t know enough about him to comfortably let her guard down. Being a high profile celebrity was different from being an Avenger. 

For all she knew, he wanted to use her for something; after all, fame wasn’t all people made it out to be. Besides, people frequently sought after Theo’s magic. 

Restraint was best in the situation.

“I appreciate the invite, but I have to work in the hospital tomorrow morning,” Theo covered, her tone light and casual, but quiet enough that any eavesdroppers wouldn’t hear. “This was fun though - I’d love to go out with you again!”

Out of the corner of Theo’s eye, Loki slipped out of the party with dark eyes and a devilish grin. Trailing close behind, hand linked in his, was a woman who had to be a supermodel, based on her absolutely flawless figure, perfectly tanned complexion, and perfectly styled outfit. 

A pang of jealousy unexpectedly shot through Theo at the sight.

“Of course.” Chris immediately masked the split second of surprise on his  face with a polite, albeit benign smile. “It’s probably just as well, because I have to fly back to California tomorrow morning.”

Despite the rejection, Chris bid Theo goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, which certainly was a surprise. After all, she just turned him down; the last thing she expected was for him to be so… affectionate?

Once Chris disappeared from view, Theo took advantage of her familiarity with the tower’s layout to take a quieter route to her suite. quickly slipped away through a back hall The second she was out of sight from prying eyes, Theo let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. 

While Theo waited for the elevator, she couldn’t help but play the evening over in her mind. Chris was charming, handsome, and there was nothing wrong with him — why was she so hesitant? And what was up with her reaction to Loki?

Of course the silvertongue would be able to woo and bring home anyone he wanted without having to think twice about it. Maybe that was the cause of her jealousy — Loki didn’t have to overthink every interaction like she did. 

Shaking her head, Theo dispelled the thoughts of Loki hooking up with some random person; it wasn’t her business what or who he did in his spare time. 

Which brought Theo’s attention back to Chris. Her hesitancy around him didn’t seem like it was just because she didn’t know him very well; something else lurked underneath that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But as she thought about it, the only reason she came up with was that everything about Chris just seemed too perfect.

In the end, it wouldn’t matter; playing the role of an Avenger was supposed to be nothing more than a means to an end. At most, it would be temporary. Theo needed to remember that.

I wonder why, why, I wonder why, why I oughta, Let you wreck, resurrect whatever you want to I can't depend, in the end you know I thought you were my friend Just stop, just stop, just stop I think I got it Sorry you, sorry me, sorry every in between, Sorry everybody here will never be somebody clean There's a piece of me they're throwing back at us, And they will buy you and sell you for celebrity status

Despite the knowledge that it was smart to not bring a guy home after the first date, Theo woke the next morning and immediately wondered if she played it too safe.  Chris was friendly, charming, good looking, and didn’t act weird about her being an Avenger - how often would she encounter guys like that? Probably never, but Theo essentially turned Chris down. As Theo laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, she debated whether she should reach out to Chris or not. 

On one hand, he made her laugh; on the other hand, they wouldn’t see each other often with conflicting schedules. He was hot, but probably had fans who would hate on Theo for dating him. He was used to the spotlight, but dating an Avenger might put his safety at risk. They had a lot of common interests, but they hadn’t talked about any serious topics - what if he secretly believed in some kind of cult? He was an accomplished actor, but Theo couldn’t promise to be there for awards shows because monsters and criminals don’t believe in days off. 

Ugh, she did not miss dating.

After mentally making the pro-con lists in her head for the third time, she decided to hold off. If she texted him too soon, she might seem clingy; besides, even if he was perfectly nice and charming and fun to be around, that feeling of something being off still lingered.

Theo rolled onto her side and snatched her phone from her nightstand to check the time, only to find a message waiting for her.

“Had a great time last night - want to grab a drink next time I’m in town? - C”

Though pleasantly surprised, Theo held off on replying. If nothing else, she needed some coffee and to wake up more before deciding on how to respond. Outside her window, the sunrise covered the skyline in a golden glow – it seemed like it was as good of a time as any to head up to the roof and enjoy her morning coffee.

Stillness permeated the tower as Theo made her way to the kitchen. With the incredibly early hour and the event that took place last night, she fully expected to be the first person awake. However, a full pot of freshly brewed coffee indicated that someone else claimed the title of first person awake. Theo wasn’t going to complain - that meant all she had to do was find her favorite mug and fill it up before enjoying some peace and quiet outdoors.

Upon arriving on the roof, Theo discovered just who woke up before her: Loki. He sat on one of the sectionals with his back to her. Loose black curls tumbled past his shoulders, swaying slightly in the cool morning breeze.

“Great minds think alike.” Theo greeted him, taking a seat on one of the other sectionals.

Loki simply hummed in acknowledgement of her greeting before returning his gaze off into the distance.

For once, Loki didn’t have a book with him. Hands wrapped around his own coffee, he sat back in his seat, soaking up the relative peace of the morning. Like the morning on the balcony, the silence held no weight, no pressure to force conversation or entertain the other. In the city that never sleeps, something about early mornings - those moments between where one day ended and the next began - felt almost sacred. Speaking, it seemed, might ruin that. 

Amidst the stillness, Theo caught herself studying Loki’s facial features, contrasting the difference from when he slept to how he appeared in the soft morning light.

Of course, there were things that Theo noticed before – Loki’s sharp bone structure certainly topped that list. But that morning, she couldn’t help but notice new things: the hints of worry lines that crossed his forehead, the crease from furrowed brows (an expression which she imagined he’d perfected at this point, along with the eye roll), the way his lips pulled across his teeth when he was close to smiling, but wasn’t quite ready to commit.

Theo knew Loki, besides being Aesir in form, was technically a frost giant and a god, but Loki looked shockingly human as he relaxed on the rooftop. Even in his Aesir form, Loki often looked more divine than mortal. But here… Some was different here. He seemed softer, less guarded. Perhaps it was the way his shoulders relaxed, or the way he stretched out in the morning glow. 

“How was your evening?” Loki struck up a conversation, taking a sip of coffee.

“It was good,” Theo smiled, looking out across the roof. “How was your night?” 

“It was alright…” Loki trailed off, glancing briefly at Theo before returning his gaze to the skyline. “You were certainly the center of attention last night.”

“Me, or the A-List actor that I spent the night with?” Theo’s attention returned to the god sitting next to her.

Loki chuckled, and Theo caught herself appreciating the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I suppose both would be a fair answer. He was rather attractive, I must admit. If I had been in your position, I certainly would have brought him back to my quarters for the evening.”

Theo let out a gentle laugh, biting her lip. Yes, Chris was good looking, and he certainly piqued her curiosity… but she couldn’t shake the feeling in her gut that something just wasn’t right. 

“Are you going to see him again?” Loki finally turned to focus on Theo. His sea-glass eyes held her gaze with surprising openness. A hint of sadness colored his words; it was subtle enough that Theo couldn’t quite place what sounded off about his question. 

“Why, do you want to hit him up if I don’t?” Theo teased, offering Loki a wink. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Loki gave her a wry smile, shaking his head. “Simple curiosity.” 

“He asked if I wanted to get a drink next time I’m in town…” Theo shrugged, finding herself less enthusiastic about the idea than she was when she first awoke. “I haven’t given an answer one way or the other yet. It was hard to really get to know him with so many people vying for his attention, so it would be nice to do something that wasn’t so… public? Then again, if we ended up dating, I doubt I would ever get any privacy again, so there’s that…”

Loki let out a breathless laugh. “Privacy is already in short supply when one is an Avenger.”

Nodding in agreement, Theo took another slow drink of her coffee.

“That’s true, but at least I can set boundaries and choose what I share with the world,” she pointed out, “I can shape the way people see me, how they see my role as an Avenger.”

“That is what we do in some ways, isn’t it?” Loki mused, his brows drawing together in thought. “Play roles?”

“All the world’s a stage and all the men and women are merely players…” Theo took a big swig of coffee, relishing the bitter taste that coated her tongue. “… Or some shit like that.”

Loki doubled over from laughter, eyes wide as he nearly spit out his coffee from surprise. It took a moment to return to his more composed self before he sarcastically replied: “Yes, or some shit like that.” 

The way he mocked her wording brought a grin to Theo’s lips. “Okay, but think about it — how much of our lives are spent playing roles? How often do we get to be ourselves without altering our behaviors because of others’ opinions? Even putting on a brave face or being diplomatic is playing a role.”

Loki pursed his lips, studying Theo carefully.

“How much time do you spend playing roles?” Even if the question wasn’t out of left field, it still felt much more serious than the conversation up to that point.

“More than I’d like,” Theo admitted, glancing down at her cup and swirling her coffee around. “But it has saved my ass enough times that I will never hesitate to do it if I think it will help me.” 

Theo bit the inside of her cheek, cursing herself for saying too much. The answer would probably come back to bite her in the ass, most likely in the form of Loki asking her a million follow up questions. 

Note to self: more coffee before any early morning personal conversations. 

“I suppose we have that in common, then.”

Much to Theo’s surprise, Loki left it at that, and returned his attention to the city around them. While Loki was known to be cunning, Theo got the sense that at its core, Loki’s answer was not rooted in cunning or manipulation, but survival.

And Theo understood that all too well.

Step one, step two, step three, repeat And I pray at the church of asses in the seats To disappear behind the beat…

[vibrantbirdy]

Fingertips: A Cassian Andor x Jyn Erso Fic

Title: Fingertips Fandom: Star Wars: Rogue One Genres: Sci-Fi; Romance; Soft smut with feelings; slight angst Setting: Post events of Rogue One - canon divergence, you know the drill #everybodylives Pairings: Cassian Andor x Jyn Erso Warnings: 18 + ONLY - Explicit sexual content This is mostly smut, but it's romantic smut I hope - oral f!receiving, riding p in v sex (unprotected - please be sensible irl); brief, mild mentions of injury and recovery (unlikely to be medically accurate, sorry); strong language. Word Count: c. 2.5k

Summary: Told from Cassian's POV. After surviving events on the planet Scarif, the crew of Rogue One have spent the past two months on Yavin 4 recuperating. With Sergeant Jyn Erso cleared for duty and her inaugural mission fast approaching, Captain Cassian Andor is still recovering from his injuries, and he can't let her go without attempting to tell her how he feels.

Author's note: This is my first rebelcaptain fic and I'm kinda nervous about it, hah! It's inspired by Newton Faulkner's song, Fingertips. I've not done a song/lyric fic like this before, but if people like it I might try something similar with a different song from Jyn's POV. (My fic masterlist is here.)

Fic and link to song under the cut.

Final A/N: You can also find the song on Spotify, I don't know what works best for folks...

Fingertips

On his worst days, Rebel spy, Captain Cassian Andor, felt as if he were reliving that moment of indescribable agony as his ribs broke on impact with the support beams of Scarif's Citadel tower. Sometimes, he even imagined that he could hear the sickening clang of his body each time it slammed heavily against solid metal before he blacked out.

Cassian knew he was lucky not to have broken his back. He knew he was lucky to be alive. More medical treatments and physical therapy appointments than he could count had worked wonders, but although he tried to hide it and although he was healing, Cassian still spent many of his days in pain.

Meanwhile, cleared for duty with a clean bill of health, and with hasty field promotion during the battle of Scarif officially sanctioned by Alliance Command, Sergeant Jyn Erso was on the eve of her inaugural mission as a Rebel Intelligence Officer. Cassian couldn't have been prouder of her.

He had hoped that during their recovery time on Yavin 4, he and Jyn would have been able to build on what he was sure they had started before and during the mission to steal the plans of the Empire's planet-killing superweapon.

But when they'd returned to Alliance Headquarters with the rest of the crew of Rogue One, miraculously alive, but battered and bruised and exhausted beyond all measure, the memory of Scarif seemed to plant itself like an unscalable obstacle, opaque and solid, between them.

It was as if all that had passed between them was simply too insurmountable to verbalise. As if putting words to the experience might break the hallowed spell cast by their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the Cause, frightened and agonised though they were, to a fate made bearable only because they were facing it together. And so in the months following, Cassian and Jyn had broken up that intangible, unnameable feeling between them into little pieces, replicating it only in stolen glances across meeting rooms and brief, lingering touches, barely there, as they brushed past each other in corridors and stood too close together in dark corners of the base.

But over the past few days, the reality that Jyn might leave without her knowing all the things Cassian had left unsaid had started to sink in. It had driven him to distraction, so much so that when he arrived at the door of Jyn's quarters the night before she left for the unknown, heart racing, adrenaline coursing through his body as if he were about to head into battle, Cassian hadn't a clue what he planned to say.

He needn't have worried. The doors had barely hissed open wide enough for a person to pass through when Jyn's eyes widened in an expression of recognition that could almost have been relief. Wordlessly, she grabbed Cassian roughly by the front of his shirt, and dragged him through the doorway where they collided into a clumsy, frenzied kiss.

Make no mistake, I'm only sane when you say my name, Oh, you're on my fingertips like holy water

Any semblance of restraint that they had worked to maintain over the time they had known each other fell away as instinct took over. The two tore at each other's clothes, fumbling at buttons and belts and zippers until, naked seemingly in mere moments, Jyn's back was up against the nearest durasteel wall with Cassian pressing himself hungrily against her body.

Unable to resist any longer, he broke away from her lips, and allowed his mouth to graze across her skin, kissing a feverish descent down her neck and collarbone, over her breasts and across her abdomen, savouring every little noise she made until he found himself on his knees in front on her.

Cassian hooked one of Jyn's lithe legs over his shoulder and looked up, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her. She was the most enchanting thing he'd ever seen. He knew that already, of course, but here and now, the planes and curves of her warrior's body seemed to belong to some timeless, unknowable being, a goddess sculpted in marble and come to life above him. It seemed only natural that he should be kneeling in capitulation before her alter.

Trying to ignore the aching hardness between his legs, cruelly restricted by the increasingly tight material of his pants - the only item of clothing either of them had retained - Cassian traced his fingers up the inside of Jyn's thigh until he reached the well of her arousal. He marvelled at the elixir of desire that had already formed there, hot and wet, before he brushed the pads of his fingertips, feather light, across her sensitive bud.

As he did so, Jyn arched towards his touch and said his name as she never had before, keening and full of longing, the way he'd only imagined she might utter it on long, dark nights in secret when he was alone. To Cassian's ears, it was a sacred sound and he clung to the memory of it even as it dissipated into the air. It was as if his name falling from her lips had finally granted him release from the temporary madness of not having her which had been all-consuming since their return from Scarif. And now, that strange, unnatural distance that had crept between them, insidious and unintentional, was suddenly obliterated in one glorious instant. As Cassian pressed the flat of his tongue against the pearl at her core, and curled it slowly upwards, Jyn's hands flew to his head and she twisted her strong, slender fingers so tightly in his hair that it was almost painful. They stayed there, woven in his dark locks, until he brought her to a convulsing oblivion against his mouth and he heard her cry out his name again and again.

Stay on my fingertips just for a little while, I just want you to know I need it.

As Jyn recovered, breathless and panting from her high, Cassian, still on his knees, rested his cheek on her warm thigh, enjoying the paradoxical sensation of his rough stubble against her soft skin.

Despite his euphoric state, he hated to admit, even to himself, that for the first time in a long time, he was nervous about what happened next.

His body was still healing, and he knew that the lingering pain of his injured back and damaged ribs would undoubtedly restrict his range of movement. His strength, though returning, was still fragile and raw. The thought that his lovemaking might disappoint her was unbearable.

But Cassian should never have doubted that Jyn would consider this - consider him. She was always the first to notice when he was struggling, the first to tell him to rest when his pain flared up, even if he didn't want to hear it.

Removing her hands from his hair, she gripped him lightly under his chin tilting his head up to look at her and guiding him to his feet. She allowed him to press a single, absurdly chaste kiss on her lips before she placed her other hand against his chest and walked him backwards over to her bed, chin still grasped between her forefinger and thumb.

Cassian swallowed, quickly sweeping aside the embarrassing notion that if she carried on like this, he might well finish there and then.

Jyn pushed him down on to the mattress and tugged him free of his pants before climbing astride him with a swift efficiency that made his head spin. Before he knew it, she had positioned herself over his solid shaft, grasping him at his base before sinking her core down around him. As her slight, strong frame came to rest flush upon his, Cassian was sure that the circuits in brain shorted out.

He let his eyes roam over Jyn's body, transfixed and slack-jawed, as she began rocking her hips languidly against him with agonising slowness. Cassian understood that she might be afraid of hurting him, but she moved as if she thought he could break beneath her. Maybe she was right, he thought to himself, but he was sure as hell willing to find out.

He furrowed his brow against the sensation of her heat around and against him, a feeling that was simultaneously, wondrously everything and yet not quite enough. When it finally became too much to bear, Cassian tore his eyes away from Jyn's captivating form and looked up into her face.

She had a look in her eye, wild and wicked, and he realised then she was teasing him, delighting in the way he had started to writhe, almost desperately, underneath her.

How typical of her, Cassian thought, and damned if it didn't make him want her all the more.

He grinned up at her, enjoying the thrill of being at her mercy. He gripped her hips tightly, unable to resist testing to see if he could get away with manoeuvring her body on top of him in the hopes that it might persuade her to move.

With a gentle laugh, mischievous but not cruel - Jyn was obstinate, tempestuous, infuriating, but never cruel - she leant down across his chest to kiss him, pressing her lips hard against his. As she did so, Cassian felt the slow, deliberate pressure of the muscles at her very centre squeezing around him.

Seeing stars, he tore away from her lips and pressed his open mouth against the spot on her neck just below her ear to stifle a groan. The sound he made was long and low and full of pure, unfettered desire. His body responded automatically, hips rising off the mattress, pushing himself up and into her as far as he could.

"Please," Cassian heard himself say, unashamed by the way the word caught in his throat, broken and needful.

He did need her. Fuck, he needed her.

At his plea, Jyn drew herself up and straightened, throwing her head back and shaking away the mess of brown locks that had fallen about her face. There was provocation in her expression, one dark brow cocked and that smirk sitting slightly crookedly on her lips, the way it always did - the way Cassian had grown to adore.

The vision of her glorying in his utter surrender was breath-taking, and it ignited something primal within him as he pictured all the ways he might make her sing that word for him.

Please! Cassian, please!

But tonight, Jyn was the victor and, seemingly satisfied that her triumph was to be uncontested, she took pity on him.

Still, she made a performance of it, raising her eyebrows at him provocatively as if to say, Ready?, and taking the time to blow a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. One after the other, she planted her palms firmly and deliberately against Cassian's chest and only then, finally, did she begin to move.

As her body started to rise and fall around his hard length, Jyn became lost in her passion, and Cassian revelled in every curl of her fingers against his torso as her hands flexed open and shut, her nails dragging across his skin. It was an instinctive, unconscious movement, but to him, it felt as if she were trying to reach into his chest and extract his hammering heart to claim as her prize.

There's no need, Cassian managed to think through his lust-fuelled haze, it already belongs to her.

As Jyn's pace quickened, he thrust up into her, matching the rhythm of her movements with his own. Her hand, the one that didn't have a grip over Cassian's heart, slid slowly down his sweat slick chest until it came to rest at his throat, her thumb exerting a light, tantalising pressure at the hollow just below his adam's apple.

Cassian couldn't tear his eyes away from Jyn's bewitching face. Any guile that had been present in her expression before had been replaced by carnal, elemental lust. Her head rolled languidly back and forth on her shoulders, her mouth hanging slightly open, allowing the most erotic noises of pleasure Cassian had ever heard to escape from deep within her. She kept her eyes squeezed shut for the most part, but every so often, she rewarded her lover with a wanton, piercing look from green, glinting, amorous orbs.

As he moved within her, Cassian wanted to touch every part of her. He ran his hands along her thighs, up and down her back, across her buttocks, her stomach, her breasts, the feeling of her silky skin beneath his fingertips almost transcendental.

Finally, he snaked a hand between their bodies, caressing that sacred spot between Jyn's legs where she needed him the most, determined to give her everything.

At his touch, she cried out, her head flying back to reveal that long, slender neck. The vision sent Cassian into overdrive as he imagined running his tongue up it and tasting the salt of her exertion on her skin.

The sight and sound of Jyn in ecstasy as she reached her peak and the sensation of her body contorting and releasing around him was enough to throw Cassian hurtling uncontrollably towards his own mind-numbing rapture. He bucked up into her in disjointed and desperate movements until her name tumbled from his lips like a prayer over and over.

Love me another day, before it evaporates, Stay on my fingertips like holy water, Stay on my fingertips just for a little while.

When they were both completely spent, Jyn collapsed against Cassian's chest, their heaving bodies hot with sweat. Cassian kissed the top of her head, inhaling the intoxicating wildflower scent of her hair.

After a moment, Jyn let out a soft, breathless laugh that was almost a giggle. Then, she pushed herself up to rest on her elbows just high enough so that she could hover above Cassian and touch the sharp point of her nose against his own.

He smiled up at her and swept back stray tendrils of hair where perspiration had plastered them to her forehead, before trailing his fingers slowly down her flushed face, his hand coming to rest on her rosy cheek where he traced the ridge of her cheekbone with his thumb.

Night on Yavin 4 was dissipating fast, and in the early morning light that crept softly through Jyn's window, Cassian studied her face as she floated like an ethereal vision above him.

Before she left, he wanted to memorise every facet of those perfect features that were all at once both delicate and fierce. The angular contours of her nose and cheeks, the full lips which so often parted slightly to reveal charmingly prominent front teeth, the dark hair which always ended up tousled mess no matter what she did with it.

But most of all, Cassian longed to indulge himself by counting every single fleck of gold in Jyn's otherworldly green eyes. Her irises were the colour of lichen, he decided, the kind that only grows in the forests of the galaxy with freshest, purest air. Cassian suddenly realised that Jyn was engaged in the same undertaking, her brows knitted together in concentration as she appraised his face, her expression quizzical and vulnerable and open.

It was as if they were seeing each other properly for the first time in months. It reminded Cassian of the look they had shared in the Citadel turbo lift on Scarif - two souls clinging to the safe harbour of the other, suspended in a moment as the world burned around them.

But this time, Cassian felt no fear and no pain, only comfort and something else awakening within him. A stirring deep within his heart. As he gazed up at the woman who had faced death with him and survived, he saw this new hope of his glowing incandescent and warm, reflected back at him through Jyn's eyes.

[cienie-isengardu]

TBB: The Outpost

As a foreword, I want make it clear I watched overall only a few episodes (from the season two alone just the two-part premiere, the one with “Scorch” and Crosshair-centric “The Solitary Clone” and “The Outpost” solely to see how far Crosshair can be pushed before he kill any imperial [non-cloned] officer) so I may missing some serious context. Like why the Empire would demobilize it's one fully trained army (clones) so early in Palpatine’s regime since clones are still healthy and capable soldiers that obey orders (in contrast to the new recruit(s) from season one?) and serve without being paid. Unless this is again about the chip-in-brain nonsense that the show doesn’t seem to remember anymore?

Anyway, the two things that made me satisfied - and really this is the first TBB episode in S02 (and one of few in general) I would call great and interesting - are the visible change in Crosshair’s behavior and the shift in imperial army (and how the new cadre of officers differs from Vader).

The Mayday was the first clone that showed Crosshair any basic kindness - the scene of sharing the heater when they barely knew each other  contrasts drastically with how clones did not want to share the same table with him in the previous episode. And sure, Cody was nice to him too but Cody was already a comrade from the previous war while Meyday was a total stranger who did not blink at all at the mention of Crosshair being one of the Clone Forces 99. And Crosshair latched on this kindness? He said “no point in carrying deadweight” but then carried dying Mayday through the snow and even begged Nolan to save his companion. There are some really interesting changes happening in Crosshair in the face of casual and intentional abuse.

The other thing that nagged me through the whole episode is that Vader would do much better than Nolan. Although the situation was not 100% the same, he did better in Marvel comics when three heavily injured troopers were denied medical help by an officer who did not care to check tapes from the mission and acted solely on the fact that those men killed a sergeant (they did it to fulfill mission). And Vader killed the officer instead of the soldiers, because he acknowledged their loyalty and willingness to sacrifice everything for the mission.

Crosshair and Mayday did not retrieve stolen cargo but they eliminated the whole camp of the enemy and that in the grand scheme of things could prevent losing more equipment in the future so it wasn’t a total failure on their part. But Nolan did not even bother to ask what the clones achieved, doesn’t even care to hear rapport but judged them on the spot.

And when the Sith Lord is capable of showing care for common troopers but your average imperial officer can’t - doesn’t want - then you get a clear and horrible picture of the imperial army. What is also a great point about this show - those new officers have zero battle experiences, no real achievements to support their own authority and openly abuse their power over those serving under them. Abuse those without the right social and political position or origin and soon, with passing time, this corruption will be the norm. Because of it,  many capable soldiers will be shunned. Now it is clones, in future people born and raised in Outer Rim. And Vader is one of few high ranked Imperials who won’t care for people’s personal origin, family connection or even species, only for the skills.

Which is why I think the scene would play differently with Vader there (as in, he most likely would go himself to hunt down the enemy or maybe even break Nolan’s neck for wasting the good potential of loyal troopers. Shame Crosshair didn’t have a chance to join Vader’s 501st Legion, his life wouldn’t be so depressed lke it is now. 

[acrossthewavesoftime]

Do you have any particular thoughts about Anne’s feud with William and Mary?

Eſteem'd Anon,

that indeed I do! I do wonder what to call the situation at hand, though, because "Anne's feud with William and Mary" does sound rather like a one-sided grudge.

In any case, regardless what we might call the situation, I think what's at the core is a much more complex dynamic than one against the other (two). it was profoundly sad, and profoundly tragic for all involved.

From Anne's perspective, William had 'stolen' her sister so to speak and taken her away to the Netherlands when she had still been a child; the separation had hurt both sisters greatly, who had only ever, their governess aside, really had had each other growing up, seeing as their mother died young, and Charles II had seen to it that the potential heirs to the throne had been raised away from their parents to prevent them raising their daughters as Catholics.

Anne and William apparently disliked one another enough that they were not above the occasional pettiness, as Sarah, the Duchess of Marlborough recorded:

I would cast doubt on whether William, who according to Sarah was unaware of Anne's pregnancy craving, purposefully ate the entire plate to spite her, but one can easily see that the two of them did not see eye to eye, nor made any effort to.

Petty disputes over peas and unflattering nickname's such as Anne's "Dutch Abortion" for William aside, one thing that really complicated the relationship between Anne and Mary and William, was Anne's only surviving son William Henry, Duke of Gloucester.

From the first day of his life on, Anne knew that her son would, in his capacity as heir presumptive, never quite be her own, as even the circumstances of his birth illustrate: both the King and Queen were present for the birth, with Mary remaining at her sister's side throughout and William being ushered in just moments before the baby was born, so as to avoid any speculations of the sort that had sparked the eventual downfall of Mary's and Anne's father James II at the birth of their half-brother, James Francis Edward Stuart.

To have one's disliked brother-in-law watch as you give birth, in a state of undress and in a vulnerable and potentially medically dangerous position cannot possibly have a positive influence on an already strained personal relationship.

And matters did not improve as the baby grew up: Anne's closest confidante Sarah, the Duchess of Marlborough, reports in her memoirs that Anne felt treated badly, overlooked and overridden in her position as a mother by Mary, who considered the Duke, heir apparent to the throne, as much her own as Anne's responsibility and would send in people to look at the baby and report back to her whenever he was sick, using her authority to make Anne grant these people access to the nursery:

One can tell that Mary did not mean any harm to her sister but acted out of concern for the nephew in whom she may have seen a sort of ersatz for the children she had never been able to conceive (and which weighed heavily on her mental health), but it is just as easily to see why that kind of behaviour strained her relationship with Anne, who must have felt as if her only worth to her sister and brother-in-law was providing them with a child to raise as their eventual successor, totally ignoring her both as a mother, and as the then-first-in-line to the throne.

Naturally, the situation did not get any less complicated when the little Duke of Gloucester was growing up and William, then widowed, insisted on handing his education over to male tutors, a situation which has often been represented as a power struggle akin to a custody battle between William and Anne (which it, according to the ways boys were raised at the time was not, but may have felt so for Anne regardless).

The rather tragic battle over the Duke of Gloucester aside, I think it cannot be stressed enough that William and Anne in particular were simply just two people who did just not harmonise well.

They had different political outlooks, different friend circles, bar a few exceptions, and both likely regarded the other jealously as a potential threat to their respective relationship with Mary, whom they both loved.

Mary on the other hand had quite simply ceased to be who she was at fifteen, when she was married off, and both she and Anne had been shaped by their respective experiences that rather caused them to drift apart as adults than reconnect.

As co-monarch with William, she naturally tended to side more often with him than with Anne when it came to political measures impacting her, which further strained their already tense relationship.

Another factor that played, particularly on William's part, an important role in wanting to keep Anne as far removed from funds and political influence as possible, was his own shaky enough claim to the title of King with Anne technically being ahead of him in the line of succession. Not being granted funds, her husband kept barred from any active military service and the use of certain royal residences denied, one can see why Anne may have been frustrated with William and Mary.

Matters reached their climax when in 1692, William and Mary suspected Anne to be part of a Jacobite plot, and Anne's privileges were pruned.

To cut my rambling thoughts short here, I think it boils down to several tales that are as old as time; namely, in-laws not getting along, and that no dynamic among people, particularly within a family, has ever been improved by adding a power dynamic to it.

In the end, it was a sad situation for all involved, marked by repeated tragic losses, with no real winners, and no more or less innocent, or guilty parties. They were adults who had allowed an unhealthy dynamic built on shaky, sometimes sour relationships, reach the point of no return.

[sundrop-writes]

Decided To Break It

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

A thousand promises that never seemed to help me before...

Apathy that always finds a way to break me down.

Summary:

Abby confronts your abuser, and you both come out better on the other side because of it.

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort. Can be read with or without considering the canon events.

Word Count: 5,000

The Last of Us Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns, themes of abuse and abusive relationships, domestic abuse, childhood friends to lovers, hurt and comfort, mentions of canon deaths and incidents of canon violence, Abby has a self deprecating inner monologue, Abby experiencing some transphobic comments (even though she is not trans in this - angry cis men are just like that), the reader’s abusive partner is a man, the reader is described as having injuries from a physically abusive incident, the reader experiencing physical and emotional abuse from a romantic partner, the reader is saved from her abusive partner by Abby (and Manny), the reader is mentioned to be wearing Abby’s clothes - but Abby is a big muscled girl so I think plus sized girls could fit her clothes (especially if they were clothes that were big on Abby), Abby calls the reader ‘baby’, some romantic involvement between Abby and the reader (but the bulk of the focus is on Abby rescuing the reader form the abuse), technically cheating - because the reader kisses Abby while she is still involved with her abusive boyfriend, Abby murdering someone with her bare fists (technically with her fists and then smothering him with a pillow), somewhat graphic descriptions of Abby beating up the abuser, happy/hopeful ending. 

A/N: Title comes from a Marianas Trench song of the same name. I have always thought of it as a very Abby song (and it’s on my Abby playlist) - I think it definitely represents her following the Fireflies and then the Wolves with them feeding her blind promises that don’t work out for her, and when she ‘decides to break it’ is when she decides to break free from the mould in order to help Lev and Yara. And in this case, the broken promises and lies are two fold - her pushing down her feelings for y/n and her seeing y/n be 'happy’ with the abusive boyfriend, and when she finally snaps is when she 'decides to break it’. I like how it fits. It could also be fitting of how someone in an abusive relationship is fed lies and empty promises and it’s difficult to break away from that.

...

Abby had always liked you.

She always loved you, even if she claimed over and over again, wasted her breath telling people that it was strictly the type of love reserved for a friend. 

But she refused to admit the true nature of those feelings to herself. She refused to call it love, or romance, or affection. Maybe because she didn’t even realize that’s what it was in her own mind. But she definitely had a childhood crush on you that blossomed into something else along the way. 

You were someone that Abby’s dad was always fond of when you lived with the Fireflies at Saint Mary’s hospital. And though you weren’t studying to become a medic, Jerry always pushed Abby to hang around you more because you were sweet, good natured, and bookish, and he always thought you were a very good influence on her. 

It was something that led the two of you to become fast friends. When the two of you were still so young and the world was still so small, you were each other’s biggest priority in it. 

Abby often mourned for those days like winter days mourn for summer. But she could never imagine how the two of you might get back that kind of closeness. 

Living at the WLF, you unintentionally drifted away from Abby. 

The Salt Lake Crew was always close, especially after making the treacherous journey from Salt Lake to Seattle with nothing more than a tiny glimmer of hope for their safety after the bloody massacre at Saint Mary’s. 

Abby protected you the whole way, made sure you never had to carry a gun, would have thrown down her life to save yours at any moment during the journey - especially when she was stuck in such deep depression after her father’s death. In a lot of ways, you kept her alive during those days. You kept her spirit alive, made sure she held onto the good memories of her father instead of throwing herself headfirst into the darkness. 

But when everyone integrated into the WLF, things changed. It was a very rapid shift from the group spending 24/7 together, watching each other’s backs, to everyone having different jobs based on their skills and having colliding schedules that caused them to part and spend less and less time around each other. 

Manny and Abby were the ones who ended up staying the closest - ironically, even closer than the romantic couples of Mel and Owen, and Leah and Jordan. Mostly likely because they roomed together, and they often patrolled together. 

Abby was always regretful of the fact that she didn’t get to see you more often. 

Whenever Abby saw you around, in the cafeteria or during the rare occasions when the old crew could work their schedules to get together (usually using someone’s birthday or another celebration as an excuse) she mourned the fact that the two of you were drifting apart. It seemed like the two of you were becoming more like strangers as the days went on. 

You had taken a job as a dog trainer, wrangling the many pups that the WLF raised and kept on hand, so Abby saw you most often in passing if she was checking out one of the dogs for patrol. 

She often found herself with a pang of yearning in her chest if she saw you cooing sweetly at the pups, petting them, knowing that they could tear out the throats of enemies with their teeth but cuddling with them and calling them ‘baby’ in the same breath. 

(Deep down, she was reminded of herself - how she felt rough and horrible and she often felt unlovable, but she thought someone as soft and sweet as you could still love her. She hoped that you would.)

Very often during their conversations, Manny insisted that Abby had a crush on you. He said that she always had and that he had seen it for years, and Abby was being dumb not to pursue her feelings for you. These conversations usually ended with Abby rolling her eyes and pointing the finger back to his love life, asking why he didn’t just settle down with one of the many nice girls who frequented his bed. 

The topic came up so often between them, but it was something that Abby tried not to think about. The two of you dating. The two of you being anything more than friends. It felt so fictional. Often when Manny spoke about it, it felt like a joke in her ears. 

It was something that was latent in her mind until she saw you with him.

He was some random scumbag - some new trainee who had come in from a settlement outside the city that Isaac had broken up. He had allowed some of their people in (“strength in numbers” he always said). But seeing you with him, Abby gave less of a shit about where the guy came from, and started thinking about where he was heading to and how quickly she could get him away from you. 

Seeing the way you looked at him, with stars in your eyes, entirely lovestruck, while he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear - it just made Abby nauseous.

Abby had been working with some of the new recruits. Fucking morons. Isaac had asked her to whip them into shape, her experience and skill vs their idiocy. 

It was the only reason she knew the guy. It was the only reason she could pick out his stupid face among the seemingly endless sea of people at the WLF. 

She remembered this idiot specifically. He had made sure of that. He was too cocky, but didn’t know his way around a gun. When he had gotten his hands on one of the semi-automatics, he got trigger happy and put several bullet holes in one of the concrete walls. He would have blown away half the squad if his dumbass had been two inches in the other direction. 

When Abby had snatched the weapon out of his hand and began reprimanding him about gun safety, he had gotten in her face and called her a ‘meathead’ and made some rude comments about her possibly having a dick. Clearly, he was intimidated by her size. She let him be. 

(And yeah, she did have a dick. In a box under her bed. One that the girls she and Manny shared around often joked was better than the real thing.)

It was immediately clear to Abby that you didn’t have a clue what the guy was really like. You wouldn’t have any interest in him if you knew what he was like in the field, if you knew how he had spoken to some of your friends. 

You kissed him sweetly on the mouth before you parted ways. Clearly completely unaware that Abby was watching with rage boiling inside of her veins. It was only when Abby looked at the crushed water bottle in her hand that she realized why her shoes were wet - unconsciously, she had been imagining that it was his head.

Manny chalked up her hatred of your new boyfriend to jealousy. And maybe it was. She had no other reasons to hate the guy. No good ones, anyway. Incompetency aside, he learned fast and got over his major flaws, and he quickly learned to only trash talk Abby behind her back so that she couldn’t take any real complaints about him to Isaac. 

When you brought him to Jordan’s birthday party and introduced him to the rest of the group as your boyfriend, they all seemed happy for you.

They didn’t suspect anything when he glared at you with absolute fire in his eyes as you joked around with Owen - someone you thought of as a brother. The cause of a very funny story (that the group still brought up often) when you ate literal dirt rather than kissing him during a game of truth or dare when you were all teenagers. 

Unfortunately, Abby didn’t have any evidence to back up her horrible gut feeling when you and your ‘new boo’ disappeared from the party so suddenly. When she had asked Nora, apparently you left because you were complaining about being tired.

Over the next few weeks, Abby watched you fade away from a distance. 

Your glowing smile became a dull, fake one. Whenever she saw you, you avoided her gaze. And the rare times when you would look her in the eye, she could see you crying out for help from within.

She thought she was being paranoid. She thought it was her pure spite of the man you were dating - some jealousy, a childhood crush bubbling over, the fact that she hadn’t gotten to you first. The fact that she hadn’t been brave enough to confess her feelings to you that she hadn’t even admitted to herself. 

She wanted to believe that you were fine, that you were thriving and happy in your new relationship, before she let herself think that you were actually being hurt by someone who claimed to love you.

Until one night when she was alerted by a knock on her door. 

She and Manny had just come back from a thirty hour patrol shift, and he was already dead asleep. Abby had just gotten out of the shower, combing through her long, wet tendrils as a characteristic Seattle storm thundered outside.

She rushed to put on a tee shirt along with her form fitting boxer briefs to look decent. Even though the only light in the small apartment was currently the flashes of lightning from outside as she walked across to the door. She thought perhaps she had imagined it, the sound of knuckles, the sound of someone trying to grab her attention. It would have been easy to mistake. The thunder rumbling and the rain pounding on the windows was certainly distracting. 

Nonetheless, she opened the door to check if her mind was really that far gone after such a long shift. 

She gave a small smile when she saw you standing there. Usually you didn’t take time out of your busy schedule to come and see her. 

But when the next flash of lighting came, and fully illuminated you where you stood in the hallway, it made Abby’s gut curl with a unique sickness. The look of pure fear in your eyes, the swelling of purple around one of them, the distinct marking around your neck that looked like fucking handprints, marks of thumbs attempting to press into your windpipe.

Abby felt the rage of god and intense pity, mourning and regret, her love for you swell up inside of her all at once.

“Y/N.” 

She said your name in a voice so gently, a timid kindness that you hadn’t been treated with in weeks - it instantly broke you.

You broke down in sobs, muttering out ‘I’m sorry to bother you’ - but Abby didn’t let you get out a moment of apologetic self pity before she swept you up into her arms, pressing the uninjured side of your face against her chest as she ushered you into the apartment and closed the door behind you.

You clutched onto her like a lifeline when stranded at sea, balling your knuckles into the fabric of her shirt as she put her strong arms around your quivering body, cradling you. She had a heavy suspicion as to what had happened to you, but she was going to wait for you to point at the suspect before she went spinning out of control.

The commotion - the echo of your cries - easily woke up Manny, and you began to profusely apologize before he trampled over this with his worry for you. He instantly reminded you of the big brother figure who used to slide you his pudding cups before he went to arms training while living at Saint Mary’s. 

He made you a cup of tea while Abby sat you down on the edge of her bed, cradling you against her chest and waiting for you to calm down. 

When Manny saw the marks on you, he exchanged a look with Abby. He knew that whoever had harmed you would soon be experiencing infinitely more wrath than they ever thought to bring upon you.

Eventually, your sobs calmed enough for you to explain the situation to them. 

Just as Abby suspected, you ended up telling her a long tale about how this once dreamy boyfriend had turned into a monster; he had shed his skin and shown another face, and he had been abusing you for a few weeks now, hurting you in the worst ways, right under everyone’s noses. 

Abby felt a stinging type of guilt splash up into her throat, and she had a feeling that she was never going to forgive herself for letting you be around that man. 

It had started at Jordan’s birthday party. That night, he had accused you of sleeping with Owen behind his back, and you had nearly scorched your throat trying to explain to him that Owen was your long-time friend, more like a brother to you. But that had only ended with you having a busted lip for ‘lying’ to him. 

And things had only gone downhill from there. 

The most recent incident being him coming home from a patrol to find that the dishes in your now shared apartment weren’t done, and he had called you a sloppy, lazy pig. The ensuing fight had ended with him nearly strangling you to death until you broke one of those dirty plates over his head.

Abby pulsed with anger, and when she went for the door, Manny stopped her. 

He nodded toward where you were still sitting on her bed, your body still visibly shaking as you stared at the floor with a completely blank look. Thunder rolled outside and the loud sound caused your entire body to jolt, and more tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Abby’s insides ached for you. She felt guilty for not following her gut feelings sooner, for not trying to help you sooner. 

“Abs, she needs you right now.” Manny told her. “I want that pendejo dead as much as you do.” He grunted these words with intense furocity, anger, passion. He needed to protect you as badly as she did. 

Abby almost tempted him. She wanted to encourage the bad side that she knew he had. She wanted that fucking prick’s throat under her hands, struggling for breath right now. 

“But tonight…” Manny continued, putting a hand on Abby’s shoulder, pulling her from the murderous revere that he knew she was disappearing into. “She needs a safe place to fall. Tomorrow, we can go to his place with a body bag and a shovel.” 

Unfortunately, he was right. 

So, as much as she wanted to charge out the door and bring the wrath of god to the man who had hurt you - instead, she got you to drink the rest of the tea, and then she got you something oversized and comfortable to wear. 

She put you on the inside of the bed, closer to the wall to help you feel safe. 

Abby stared up at the bottom of the bunk, cursing herself for not trusting her instincts, listening to your sniffling cries. She was entirely surprised when you spoke. 

“I’m sorry.” You said, once again attempting to apologize for ‘imposing’ yourself on Abby and Manny in your time of need. As if you weren’t supposed to lean on good friends. As if these friendships weren’t founded on needing each other. “I shouldn’t be bothering you like this, I-” 

You moved to climb around Abby, moved to get out of the bed, and Abby stopped you with a gentle hand on your waist. You froze on the spot, your body half pressed against hers. She tried to ignore the tingles it sent through her, feeling you pressed up against her so close. You were vulnerable. You didn’t need her and her stupid feelings making things so messy. 

“Are you seriously going back to him?” Abby asked, her throat nearly stripped raw with rage. 

You let out a quiet whimper, and She wanted to kick herself. Of course you thought her anger was misdirected at you. 

“I’m sorry.” She doubled back, entirely quiet now. She reached up, gently cupping the back of your head, trying to soothe you. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I’m sorry-” 

“It’s all my fucking fault.” You sobbed, dissolving into more harsh cries. “I should just listen better. I can be better, I can be better, I know, I just-” 

“No.” Abby growled, now entirely insulted by the idea that you would ever think it was your fault. Even if you swung first, no one ever had permission to hit you. Not on an earth where Abby was breathing. If anybody ever laid their hands on you, no matter their stupid reasons, they deserved to have it come back on them twice as harsh. “It’s not your fucking fault. Not a chance, baby.” 

‘Baby’ - the word slipped from her lips before she could stop it, and at first she hoped that you wouldn’t hear it over your own chest shaking cries. 

But it seemed to soothe you. In a moment, your sobs quieted down, and you melted into her, your body going lax against hers, laying on top of her in a way that she had quite literally only dreamed of. 

“Abby-?” You croaked out, not daring to ask if your ears had been mistaken. 

“You deserve so much better than that.” Abby replied, her voice quaking with passion and the intense purity of her declaration. “So much better than whatever that fucking asshole has been giving you.” 

You lifted your head from where it had fallen on her shoulder then. Your eyes were glassy with tears, the one still swollen and bruised from where he had hit you, possibly worse now as the injury truly set in. Abby reached over and grazed a thumb oh-so-lightly over the ring of the bruise, cursing it for existing in her mind. You bored into her soul as you stared her down, looking for any trace in her eyes that what she was saying was a feigned comfort, rather than her undeniable truth. 

“Like you?” You posed, the words so quiet on your lips that the breath barely escaped. 

It was a fantasy. It was a far-off dream. 

But still - Abby put a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a gentle, entirely sweet kiss. It was a promise. She was never going to let anyone hurt you again. 

In those moments, laying in her bed in the dark, it felt more like a dream. She was too perfect. It couldn’t be real. 

When you pulled back from the kiss, your gentle breaths puffing across her now wet lips, the words got caught in her chest. 

‘I’m going to kill him.’ 

That’s truly what she wanted to say to you. In her mind it was a comforting promise, but she knew that to you, it would sound much more like a foreboding threat. 

She chose something else instead. 

“It’s okay.” She told you quietly. “Go to sleep now.” 

You nodded lightly, and relaxed against Abby once more, tucking your face into her neck. She felt comforted by feeling your gentle breathing against her skin. You fell asleep curled up tight to her body, clutching fistfuls of the blanket and her shirt as the anxiety crept back in while you slept. Abby continued to fitfully go over it all in her mind, wondering how she could have let this happen to you. 

Sometime that night, she did fall asleep (likely from the pure exhaustion of a thirty hour tour). When she woke up - you were gone. Somehow, you had sunk around her sleeping body and disappeared. 

The mind games of your abuser were in full effect; the things he had said to you dancing around inside your head. Even though Abby and Manny didn’t know it, you were on your way to apologize to him for supposedly starting the previous night’s argument. 

Both your friends were struck with worry, and they dressed quickly in order to search for you. 

They thought the best game plan would be to head to the cafeteria, to start asking around to find out if anyone had seen you. Abby was surprised when she got to the cafeteria and easily spotted you among the faces. 

She found that rage boiling in her stomach once again when she saw that you were talking to him. 

It was a feeling that quickly turned blinding when the word ‘whore’ was thrown at you. 

Apparently he believed that because you wearing one of Abby’s shirts (the clothing you had slept in and kept on) it meant you had fucked her, and you were cheating on him yet again. It was a grand conspiracy, because you had never cheated on him with anyone before. (Other than when you had kissed Abby, seeking comfort the night before.) 

But all of that was a mere blur at the back of Abby’s mind. 

She felt herself snap when you moved to walk away from him and he grabbed your wrist with an abrasive roughness, jerking you back toward him. 

Without hesitation - without even considering any earthly consequences, Abby charged toward him. When you saw her large, intimidating form appear behind him, your eyes lit up like a deer in headlights, but he didn’t seem to notice her coming. That would be his demise. He was too hellbent on torturing you to pick up on anything else. 

It gave Abby the perfect opportunity. 

She grabbed the back of his collar and lined up a punch. The impact to his nose caused him to drop the grip on your wrist, and you cupped your hands over your face to muffle a gasp as you watched the fountain of blood spatter out from the hit. He screamed out, starting on some kind of protest, but Abby landed another hit on his jaw with a curled fist. This sent him hurtling toward the floor, landing flat like a starfish on his back, only semi-conscious at this point. 

She had gathered the attention of everyone in the room by now; random strangers who stared with shock and awe as she stepped toward him and put a knee in the middle of his chest. Some people began to cheer at the very one-sided brawl as Abby continued to brutalize the man, pummeling his face with her fists, completely fuelled by her intense rage, intent on punishing him for even thinking about hurting you. 

You yelled a protest, and moved toward her, wanting to stop the violence. But immediately Manny thought better of anyone getting between Abby and her target, especially in this state of intense blinding rage, so he caught you by the shoulders and held you back. He simply let you collapse into his chest and cry as Abby continued to bruise her knuckles on the man’s stupid face. 

Owen was the only one brave enough to push through the crowd, grabbing Abby’s elbow and screaming her name. He dared to pull her off the unconscious, nearly dead man as she continued to pant like a raging bull. 

Abby didn’t even have time to bandage her knuckles before news of the incident got back to Isaac. And then you, her, Manny, and Owen got called up to his office at the FOB to explain why one of the newbies was in a coma after being beaten half to death in the middle of the cafeteria. On her way to the trucks, Abby caught Nora by the elbow and tried to convince the medic to smother your ‘boyfriend’ with a pillow. Nora said she would if she could get a moment alone in his room in the medbay. Naturally, she trusted Abby’s judgment enough to know the guy was a scumbag without having to ask why. 

Abby was the first one to be called into Isaac’s office while you sat in a chair in the hallway. You were still crying hysterically; upset that it had come to such intense violence, shocked that you had witnessed something so bloody, and terrified that Abby was now going to get in trouble with Isaac because of you. 

Manny and Owen waited with you; Owen trying to get the full story out of you and Manny sheltering you, trying to get Owen to lay off his questioning, seeing as you were still sensitive and shaken from almost being murdered the night before. 

When Abby sat in the chair across from Isaac, she crossed her arms and slouched, spreading her legs wide, her jaw still absolutely tight with anger. She made no effort to hide her bloodied knuckles. 

Isaac cleared his throat loudly before he spoke. 

“Now I know, if you tried to kill that man, you had a damn good reason to.” He said, giving Abby the benefit of the doubt. “What did he do?” 

“He knows what he did.” Abby huffed out, almost too angered to think about it without spiraling out into another rage fit. 

Isaac glared at her, obviously wanted a better explanation than that. 

“If he’s unfortunate enough to wake up, you can ask him about it.” She gritted through her teeth. 

Isaac sighed hard. “Now, that’s not very helpful, Abby.” 

Hatred churned in Abby’s chest. She hated having to speak it aloud, but she supposed it was necessary. She hated that Issac was putting you through this, rather than simply believing that Abby knew what justice was when she saw it.  

“He tried to kill Y/N.” Abby said, hot, rage-fuelled tears gripping at her throat. “He’s been abusing her.” 

Isaac did need to confirm the story with you, and you insisted that Abby sit in the room with you while you talked to him. Isaac was someone you found vastly intimidating because you rarely had to deal with him. 

Abby stood behind your chair with a comforting hand on your shoulder while you spelled out the entire thing, Isaac listening quietly - the bruises on you were more than enough proof for him, and he had Manny come to collect you and get you some water and some tissues while he told Abby how the whole thing should be taken care of. 

“When you get back, tell Nora to pull back the young man’s medical care. I don’t need him wasting resources.” Isaac instructed, firm and simple. 

He was a practical man, and Abby admired that. 

“If he somehow miraculously pulls through, we’ll… deal with him then.” Isaac continued. Abby nodded. “Next time something like this happens, deal with it more privately. Shooting a rabid dog in public frightens people. You know I trust your judgment on these matters, but… I don’t need others questioning you.” 

“Yes sir.” Abby quickly agreed. 

They took you back home and Manny took you back to their apartment to help you get settled, saying something about ‘right way to cook eggs’ as he took you down the hallway. Abby knew he would keep you distracted while she took care of business. She then visited the medbay to give Nora that note about ‘withdrawing’ the scumbag’s medical care. Which in reality, just meant that Nora guarded the door while Abby smothered the guy with a pillow, not to take any chances. 

Over the next few weeks, Abby made sure that you would be safe. She moved you into her and Manny’s apartment, ensuring you would be close by to start you on a road to better healing, and even though it was tough - things did go up from there. 

You found it easier to heal and get back to being your old self while being close by to your friends, and if you realized the feelings you’d had for Abby the whole time - that was just a bonus. 

It was something you reflected on one morning as you tossed a tennis ball to one of the dogs. You weren’t expecting Abby to come by - you didn’t think she would be collecting a dog, you didn’t think she had a patrol that day. 

“Are you checking someone out?” You asked, reaching down again to grab the tennis ball from Bear’s mouth when he brought it back to you. You took a moment to pet him, scrubbing behind his ears as he gratefully leaned into the touch. 

“It’s my day off.” She reminded you. “I just wanted to come check up on you.” 

You gave a grin at this. Even if you hated what that man had done to you, done your mind and your life - you did like how it was bringing you and Abby closer together again. 

“This is the easy part of my day.” You told her, looking down at Bear with fondness. “If you treat them right, they never bite you back.” 

Abby’s expression faltered from lightness, just for a moment. She knew it had a double meaning. You still believed that the whole thing had somehow been your fault. 

She gently reached out and took the tennis ball from your hand, tossing it far to the other end of the fenced in yard, causing Bear to run after it. It was a temporary distraction away from the dog so that you would have to face her. 

Abby knelt down beside you, where you had been crouching at Bear’s level, and cupped your face very timidly in her hand. You leaned into the touch, now locked in her precious gaze as she gathered the right words for you. 

“You are a good person, Y/N.” Abby told you firmly. “You deserve nothing but goodness in return. And anybody who treats you with anything less than kindness is someone who has evil in their heart. And they deserve to suffer because of it.” 

Tears clouded your eyes at the pure sincerity of her words. 

“Abby-” You croaked. 

Before you could get caught up in possibly arguing with her, Bear came barreling back, and dropping the ball in your lap once again. He then licked a large stripe up the side of your face, and you dissolved into laughter because of it. 

Abby wanted to get used to hearing that sound.

...

A/N: This is a standalone one, so please do not ask me for a sequel to a continuation to it. If you enjoyed this, please comment about the body of work that I have already written, and if you want more, feel free to check out the numerous other Abby fics that I have on my TLOU Masterlist. Thank you!!!