#shoutout to this thrown away story that made me feel things for the first time in a while

[shaba-the-art]

Seven Crimes and Punishments

Happy 10th anniversary to the album and story!

[haleigh-sloth]

I have a question but why do you think so many people are against Dabi/Touya getting a redemption arc or getting saved? Like some are against him being saved but are all down for Shiggy and Toga to be saved? I usually see the same argument and it’s frustrating! Like before I explain myself just want to say I’m not hating on Shiggy or do I feel like he’s any less worth saving but I see these arguments that leave me baffled. So the arguments I have seen before is some people don’t think Dabi/Touya can be redeemed or saved because he has murdered 30+ people, but like Shiggy has probably killed the same amount of not more people so that logic doesn’t really cut it. So why does it make a difference? Like why are people so against Dabi/Touya being saved or redeemed?

Well, I'll start this by saying that Shigaraki has ABSOLUTELY KILLED MORE PEOPLE HOLY SHIT DUDE. It's not even up for debate 😂 that boy flattened two cities with the touch of a hand. Shiggy is my favorite hands down and I'll defend the boy til I die but he has done so much more damage. That's kind of the point to his arc--actually. But anyways~

Content Warning of abuse below the cut a bit further down--

So with that--I've wondered the same thing you're asking. Why is Touya getting so much hate? Why not redeem him? Well, there's a few reasons that I have seen:

Endeavor- This is the first and foremost reason I can see for Touya having so many antis. This is something I can't grasp or fathom--Why do so many people like Endeavor? Or more like--why do so many people want to see an abuser thrive and his victim be put down? I can understand wanting to see an abuser better himself AND wanting to see the victim thrive, and I can see people wanting the abuser to be put down and the victim to thrive. But to just want the abuser to come out on top? No. Fuck you. (not you anon). So for whatever reason that I cannot fathom, people can't stand the idea of Touya surviving, being saved and redeemed, because it means that Enji has failed (which he already has but--again I really don't understand that side of the fandom and quite frankly I don't want to). So yeah, Endeavor has a lot of ridiculous fans. Hawks- I've already talked about how ridiculous some of the Hawks-stans are. I'm sorry but---they're fucking ridiculous. Some of them need to step away from their computer, go outside, breath some outside air, and shut the fuck up. And let me tell you---we sometimes joke about how the hero-stan side of the fandom lacks critical thinking skills and can't read past the surface--but I want to disagree with to an extent. I can tell you right now, Hawks's stans saw THIS:

And they knew. Seeing Hawks remain in the dark while Dabi walked toward the light. They knew what this was foretelling. And they didn't like it. And then this happened:

And they DEFINITELY did not like that. And then Dabi went and made fried chicken out of him and they found more reason to hate him with all their being. Hawks was kind of set up to die heroically--and even though his arc is pretty bad right now, I still think that at this point that’s the best ending for him. For me, he’s gone too long without even remotely thinking of changing his ideologies, and has been backing Endeavor unquestionably for a bit too long now. It’s just not looking good for him survival-wise. And his stans either SEE this very clearly and are in denial and need something to hate in order to deal with it, OR they really just aren’t looking as deep into the story as they need to. Those panels I used above though honestly tell it all. That being said he very well may survive and not have any consequences from his low point at all--but then he gets thrown in the “BNHA’s shittiest written arcs” pile. But whatever. 

Also--shoutout to the blogs I follow and people I talk to who genuinely LOVE Hawks’s character but like--aren’t ridiculous about it and don’t harass people in their inboxes about it. Who also try to understand his character and not just make him out to be a uwu baby that never did anything wrong. TRUE Hawks-stans if I ever saw em.

Shouto--This is FAR less common than the other two reasons, but I have seen a few people who think this. They love Shouto (understandably--he’s a fluffy boy who needs a hug from his big brother Touya), but they think that Touya is going to be Shouto’s “final boss”, or his mortal enemy or something. Which--idk if they just refuse to read into Shouto’s awesome character on purpose or not, but he is not about to go out there and try to kill his big brother, who he never got to know, who he KNOWS suffered because of their father, and who is very very clearly in physical, mental, and emotional pain. Again--Shouto-stans are a  far less part of the problem. But I’ve seen this misunderstanding of Shouto’s character go around a few times. 

This next one is also big, and kind of falls into the same category with Endeavor up top--but it’s such a huge issue that I’m seeing that it needs its own paragraph: People don’t understand children’s behaviors, abuse, abusive family dynamics, and just child psychology in general. Child psychology is hard to understand--but also very simple. It’s hard as an adult to think back to how black and white the world was when you were a kid. Your parents were your safe place--they were your guardians. Or rather--they were supposed to be. This isn’t always the case though. And the Todoroki family exhibits a lot of realistic aspects of abuse. Even though the Todoroki backstory was very messily written--one thing is absolute: Endeavor emotionally abused his child. The issue is that Shouto’s and Rei’s physical abuse was shown FIRST in the story--and THEN we were shown what really happened with Touya wasn’t so easily identified as abuse (I mean it is--to me, but not to everybody). And people got stuck on comparing Touya’s and Shouto’s childhood instead of viewing them as two completely separate crimes Endeavor committed against his family. And they misunderstand Touya’s behaviors. Peep back at when I said that your parents are supposed to be your safe place--well, for Touya, Enji WAS his safe place, his guardian, his world. And then suddenly all of that disappeared without reason (good reason I mean). And that takes a serious toll on a child. I could honestly go on and on and on about this topic in particular but it’s not necessary for this ask. The point is---people don’t think Touya was actually abused or that he suffered as a child. They seriously lack an understanding when it comes to stuff like that. And they aren’t shy about showing it to the rest of the internet. 

The last reason which I think kind of encompasses all of these reasons: People don’t understand redemption arcs--because they’re not your run of the mill Heroes vs. Villains story. It makes it to where it’s not clearly obvious whose side you should take. I guess people don’t like that---but I love it. Why not take BOTH sides?

You get to have more fun this way imo. You get to watch and see how the two sides come together--rather than just stick to one ideology til the end. I think it’s because people don’t like having their ideals, beliefs, and values challenged. It may be personal for some people--but forgiveness is a touchy subject as well.  And I also think a lot of people very much think that the rules of our reality should exist within fiction. People forget that fiction exists for us to escape reality--I don’t know why this is so easily forgotten. But what’s cool about fictional stories is that everybody can have a happy ending--no matter how many atrocities they committed, people they hurt/killed, because guess what? NOBODY ACTUALLY GOT HURT! 

But anyway---these are the conclusions I’ve come to regarding why Touya has so many haters. Some are legitimate reasons (the last two I listed) and some are just outright ridiculous (the first three I listed). 

I’m not bothered though. I would LIKE to say that when these villain-saving chapters come out I’ll laugh hysterically at all the villain-haters’ reactions---BUT I already blocked almost all of them. 😂

[httpnxtt]

Wallpaper - Reid x Reader

A/N: Hello Lovelies! I attempted some pure fluff this time to show my love to my bby, @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​ ! I wanted to shower her with love and this was the only way I could think how, so I hope you enjoy! Shoutout to @imagining-in-the-margins​ for the adorable prompt! You’re amazing and ily! 

Also shout out to my amazing beta buddies, @sunlight-moonrise​ , @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ , and @definitelynotkatesblog​ !

Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: FLUFFY FLUFF

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist

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

In the world of darkness that surrounds our lives, it’s important to find the light in the world. Luckily for me, our paperwork days meant being sat across from my best friend, Spencer Reid. The man whose smile lit the entire room, who could drop everything in an instant for someone he loves; who makes my days brighter at the simplest, “Hi.” The curly-haired genius spends his days surrounded by the worst humans in existence, using his brain to help the world before helping himself. With his IQ of 187, his mind works a million miles a minute, but sometimes he still needs help. That’s where my job comes in. 

I joined the BAU a year ago, and was instantly drawn to the resident genius. He was timid when I first met him, as if scared the world would break him with everything it decided to throw at the sweet man. Slowly, I captured the heart of our resident genius, who was now my best friend. Over the course of the years, he became my favorite person. On cases, I would make sure he took time to drink water and rest when possible, bringing him snacks when his brain was wrapped in his geological profile. I made it my mission to teach the genius to love himself as much as he loves others. 

Paperwork days were when I really got to see his bright smile and soft laughter. It became a running joke between us. Whenever Spencer would get up to grab us coffee from the kitchen, I would steal his phone to change the wallpaper to something silly. Every time he would check his phone for updates, he would see a new silly picture and grace me with a shining smile and chuckle. Even for these split moments in time, I knew I had distracted him from the morbid things littering our desks. His smile lit up the bullpen, leaving butterflies fluttering around in my stomach, my own smile gracing my lips. He would always shake his head before changing it back, already knowing he would find a new wallpaper later that day. Luckily for me, today was a long, dragging paperday which means I had plenty of time to meet my Spencer-Smile quota for the day. 

First thing this morning, I got my hands on his cell. Pre-coffee brain, the only thing I could think of was the most ridiculous picture of our own Derek Morgan. The image was one Penelope graced me with, a photo he attached when shamelessly flirting with her during our downtime. As quickly as I could, I set the lockscreen and gently placed the device back on his desk, almost in the right spot although I’m sure Spencer would notice it had been moved. I sit back in my chair, slowly starting to spin as I see Spencer make his way back to our desks, two mugs in hand as his glasses begin to slide down the bridge of his nose. I shoot up to wrap my hands around the steaming mug, the warmth like a warm hug. I pull the mug up to my face, smelling the delicious scent of coffee created perfectly to my specifications. Sometimes boy genius’ memory has its perks. Settling back at my desk, I sort through the mound of files for the day in anticipation. 

Looking up from my own cases, I look across to Spencer who has his face buried in a file, his finger trailing down the pages taking my mind into places it shouldn’t go. After an hour he still hasn’t seen his wallpaper, plastering a frown on my face. I pull out my own device, immediately texting a gif of Stitch saying hi to “Pretty Boy”, hearing his phone ding almost immediately. Looking across to Spencer, he almost spits out his coffee seeing the ever flirtatious Derek Morgan gracing his screen. The reaction sent me into a whirlwind of laughter, my head thrown back, almost cackling at the poor man. 

As I calm down, wiping the tears from under my eyes, I see Spencer looking at me with his signature smile, making my heart flutter. 

“That was a good one, Y/N. You really got me this time.” He chuckles, looking at this screen again before looking back at me. “Might have been your best one yet,” he says as he works to change it back. The poor technophobe had to learn because of me how to change his wallpaper since he realized I wouldn’t stop anytime soon. He’s still a tad slow but watching him try to work through it makes my heart happy as I return to my own files. 

As I try to work through my own files, an IM from the tech queen herself pings my computer. 

P.Garcia: “Changed Boy Wonder’s wallpaper again? When are you going to tell him?! Your puppy eyes give you away, darling. You can’t lie to me.”

Y/N: “Darling Penelope, I would never lie to you. Alas, you continue shipping something that will never sail..” I reply to her, hoping she gets the gist.

Although Spencer lives in my thoughts rent free, that’s where he’ll stay. As much as I wanted him in my arms instead, it simply wasn’t going to happen. I close my messages before trying to actually get some work done. I’d rather not stay late yet again due to my tendency to be a bit scatterbrained. 

***

Coffee break number two rolls around and I already have the perfect picture planned. Reid scurries into the kitchen desperate for more coffee and I rush to his desk. Pulling out his phone, I send an image to it before saving it. It is one of my all time favorites. A movie night Spencer and I shared. I convinced him to let me pamper him under the reasoning of some well deserved self-care. Surprisingly, the man went along with my antics, although fighting me on this gem. The image is a sneaky one that Reid doesn’t even know exists. During our self-care night, I tried to take pictures of him looking as cute as ever, but he kept blocking me. Luckily, Spencer fell asleep before his mask came off leaving the perfect opportunity to snap the evidence. There is Spencer in all his glory, curled up on my couch in the light blue robe I saved for him that was covered in little clouds, a purple face-mask clinging to his cheeks, trying to avoid his eyebrows.To top it all off, he wore a bright pink headband to push his hair back decorated with bunny ears. The picture shows the soft side of our boy, a side I wished he would show more. 

Throwing his phone back on his pile of files, I sit back at my desk, nonchalantly sipping my now cold coffee. Seeing Reid shuffle back to his desk, I wait for him to pick up his phone with my mug resting against my mouth. Spencer readjusts his frames as he settles in his chair, looking me in the eyes before looking at his phone. Instead of his normal chuckle, a pout graces his plush lips. Although his lips are normally a favorite of mine to stare at, the pout twists my gut. 

“I thought you didn’t get any pictures of me that night,” he mumbles, giving me puppy eyes that could give mine a run for their money. 

Despite my pride in the picture, his tone makes me feel just a little guilty. “I’m sorry, Spence, I thought you were so cute when you were napping. I didn’t want to make you upset.” I pout, the butterflies disintegrating as the moments pass. Rummaging through my drawer, I find my sack of trail mix and toss it to the dark-eyed man. “Here, take my trail mix, I know it’s your favorite,” I offer, a small smile painted on my face. Spencer’s eyes land on me, lips turning up once more into the smile that never fails to take my breath away. 

“I appreciate it, but I can’t take it. I know it’s basically the only thing you eat on your lunch break.” His call out causes heat to rise into my face. 

I stay insistent though. “I want you to have it. I don’t like making you sad.” I shoot back, giving him my infamous puppy eyes. Even Aaron Hotchner falls for them, there is no way the doctor could resist. 

“Okay,” he starts, automatically having me rush across to his desk to give him the snack. “On one condition,” He finishes, making my face fall once more. Spencer never lets people just give him a present, he always does more for others. “Since you’re giving me your snack, you come with me to get a proper lunch since you need food and I could use the hour away from these files.” He smiles at me, already munching on the trail mix so I have no choice but to agree. 

“Deal. BUT, I want pancakes if we’re going,” I reason with him, plopping back in my chair. 

“IHOP it is.” He chuckles, the sound resonating in my brain as we both hurry through our respective files. 

***

At coffee break number three, Reid stands from his desk, scrunching his nose to fix his glasses as he reaches across to snatch my mug from my desk. Hiding my face in the file until he walks away, I turn to see him shaking his head, knowing I’m about to change his wallpaper yet again. 

Once I see him turn the corner, I stretch over to grab his phone he conveniently left square in the middle of his desk, giving the man yet another excuse to talk to her. Flipping through the camera roll, I hear a chuckle from the desk a few feet away. Looking over, I find the one and only, Derek Morgan shaking his head at me. 

“What’s so funny, Thunder? Sad the attention isn’t on you anymore?” I tease him while trying to find the perfect picture. 

“I just find the pining that goes on between two supposedly brilliant people entertaining.” He chuckles as my jaw drops, turning to him. “Come on, Princess. You don’t think we don’t all know you and Pretty Boy fancy each other, do you? It’s obvious to everyone except the boy himself.”

I shake my head. “He’d never see me that way, Morgan. This is just for shits and giggles.” I breathe out, settling on an image of our feet in front of the TV screen, mismatched socks adorning our feet while “Beauty and the Beast” plays in the background. He sports a neon pink sock along with a navy blue sock covered in planets, while my feet claimed one sock covered in different moon phases, the other covered in little alien creatures. Placing his phone on his desk, I settle back at my own, shooting Morgan a closing, “You’re just seeing things, Morgan.” before burying myself back in the file at hand. 

Moments later, my mug is sat directly in front of me before Reid sits at his own desk. Automatically picking up his phone to check, my tummy flutters at the smile he releases while staring at the screen for a moment before looking at me. Making eye contact, I notice a slight pink tint to his cheeks, before he looks back at the image.

“This might be my favorite one yet,” he murmurs, adjusting his glasses without looking away from the screen. I feel my cheeks heat up, getting warmer by the second, but I cannot tear my eyes from the man who holds my heart without even knowing it. 

***

“Hey Y/N. Ready for lunch?” Spencer asks, tearing my eyes from the IMs Garcia floods me with daily. 

“Ready when you are!” I reply, jumping at the opportunity to get away from the files scattered on my desk. You’d think serial killers would take a day off sometimes. Shuffling to my feet, I grab my keys from my desk and grab Spencer’s hand, dragging him to the elevator with me.

“Seems like it’s more ready when Y/N is.” He chuckles, straightening his glasses once he comes to a stop in front of the silver doors. As we step in, Garcia frantically waves at us, before sprinting into the bullpen as the doors close.

“Well, you’re in luck, Pretty Boy. You get me as your personal chauffeur to lunch.” I beam at him as he goes bug-eyed.

“Lucky? In your death trap, Y/N?” He chuckles, putting a flabbergasted look on my face.

“Hey!” I yell at him, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “My car has lasted 15 long years I’ll have you know, and she runs as smooth as ever,” I shoot back, immediately leaving him behind when the doors open. “Maybe I’ll just go get pancakes without you then.” It’s playful when I lock all the car doors except for mine, and he knows it.

That doesn’t stop him from playing along. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry Y/N! Will you ever forgive my poor soul?” he jokes, holding both his hands over his heart as he begs for forgiveness. Unlocking the doors, I giggle at his antics before heading to the restaurant. 

***

“Y’all ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” The server returns to the table with our coffees, along with an apple juice for my inner child. 

“Yes ma’am. Can I get the plain pancakes with eggs, as well as a side of bacon and sausage?” Spencer asks while gathering both our menus for her. “Of course, sugar. What about you darlin’?” she turns to me as Spencer dumps almost the entire sugar container into his mug. 

“I’ll just have the chocolate chip pancake, please!” I smile at her as I steal what’s left of the sugar from the man across from me. 

“No problem, that’ll be right out for y’all.” She smiles at us before heading off to the kitchen. 

“Did you know chocolate chips were invented by Ruth Wakefield because she decided to chop up a chocolate bar and add it to her cookie batter?” Spencer looks to me as he starts with factoids. “And white chocolate isn’t even truly chocolate! White chocolate is made with a blend of sugar, cocoa butter, milk products, vanilla, and a fatty substance called lecithin. Not that it’s a surprise, considering it doesn’t even taste like chocolate. Probably because it doesn't contain chocolate solids.” he rambles as I stare at him with stars in my eyes. “However, dark chocolate is loaded with organic compounds that are biologically active and function as antioxidants. These include polyphenols, flavanols and catechins, among others. Dark chocolate also has a list of different benefits proven from consumption.” He finishes, taking a sip of his coffee as I continue staring at the man.

“What ever would I do without you, Boy Wonder?” I say, seeing Spencer’s face heat up at my remark as he hides behind his mug. 

“M-me?” He asks, as if he couldn’t believe it. He shakes his head in disbelief before I could respond, showering me with many more factoids while waiting for our food rather than accept my compliment.

“Alright, here’s your food darlin’. Let me know if there’s anything else I could do for y’all.” The server tells us, shooting us a smile before moving onto another table. Spencer takes his time cutting up his food, dousing his plate in more syrup than pancake. Meanwhile, I dig into my pancakes as if it’s the last thing I will ever eat. 

Halfway through my own pancakes, I look up to see Spencer looking directly at me with a look I couldn’t quite distinguish. 

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask him, almost seeming to pull him from a trance before responding. 

“Oh. Uh, you have chocolate on your face.” He tells me, seeing my face flush at the information. I grab my napkin and quickly wipe my lips making sure not to miss a spot. Little did I know, there wasn’t a single speck on my face. 

“Is it gone?” I ask him, hoping not to embarrass myself further. 

“Oh, yeah it’s gone.” he smiles, returning his focus onto his own plate. 

Going back to eating, I keep sneaking pieces of the bacon off Spencer’s plate, causing him to smile each time. 

“Hey Spence. I have a question for you.” I tell him, shoving a piece of bacon in my mouth. 

“And what would that be, Y/N?” He asks me, sipping his coffee. 

“Why is it every time we come here you order sausage and bacon, if you never touch the bacon?” I ask him, looking at him with a puzzled expression. 

“Would you like my honest answer?” He pushes back, as if I would want anything else from him. I nod with a mouth full of pancakes, earning a smile while he responds. “Because I know you’ll always steal the bacon from my plate but will never actually order it yourself.” He smiles at me, returning to his own food leaving me speechless and even more red.

Finishing up our plates, Spencer takes initiative to organize all of the empty dishes so our server has less work. Giggling at his antics, I pull out my phone to check the time, seeing we still have plenty of time before our break is over. 

“Are we getting milkshakes?” he asks me, sipping the last of his coffee before adding the mug to his carefully organized dish-pile. 

“Of course we’re getting milkshakes, what kind of question is that, Spencer?” I look at him, almost appalled he would assume we weren’t. “We each have a sweet tooth I’ve ever seen matched by anyone else, why would you ever assume I would say no to a milkshake?”

“I wasn’t sure if we had the time, I didn’t want to make us late.” He explains, shaking his head yet again at my child-like antics. 

When the server returns, we both order the largest mint-chip shakes they had before returning to our usual banter in waiting. Not long after, the server returned with a single shake. 

“I’m so sorry sugar, apparently we only had enough ingredients for one mint-chip. Can I get y’all something else?” The server asks us, feeling bad she couldn’t fulfill our order. 

“You take the mint-chip, Spence. I’ll order something else.” I push the shake toward him as he blocks it from getting to him. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not worried about it.” He replies, fighting me over a milkshake. 

“Spence-” I begin to argue before he abruptly cuts me off. 

“Would you like to share the shake with me, Y/N?” he asks me, looking me directly in the eye. I froze for a moment, taken aback at the offer from the germaphobe in front of me.

“If that’s okay with you, Spence. Then, sure!” I respond, checking if it was okay with him. 

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t okay, Y/N.” He shoots back, chuckling at me before asking the server for two straws. The man in front of me steals more and more of my heart with every passing moment.

***

Going up the elevator to the BAU was a constant battle between us. Spencer secretly gave the server his card so I wouldn’t even have a chance to fight him on paying. 

“You gave me your trail mix, Y/N! That’s the whole reason I asked you to get lunch in the first place! Why would I let you pay when I extended the invitation?” He shoots at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Shooting him a look of discontent, we both sit back at our desks, feeling 2 pairs of eyes staring at us from a few desks over. 

“Don’t look now, but I think Tweedledee and Tweedledum are staring at us.” I lean over to whisper. Reid tries his best to look up at them, nonchalant as possible. Despite the boy being a genius, he is anything but sly, looking just in time to see Derek and Penelope snap their heads to whatever was on his desk. Giving them a smile, Reid picks up his own file to return to his own tasks for the day. However, the task only lasted so long before the genius needed yet another cup of coffee for the day. Heading off to the kitchen, I quickly grab the phone he left on his desk on his break, trying to plan the perfect image. 

Before I could get far, I was abruptly stopped in my tracks. Staring at the homescreen on his phone, I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t noticed this before. Had this been in front of my face the entire time? Staring at the screen, I see myself and Spencer from our weekly movie nights. I had all of our silly photos, yet I had never seen this one. I see myself, puffed out cheeks with my eyes crossed, pulling at my ears to make myself look like a monkey, but my eyes can only look at Spencer. He hadn’t made his silly face. Instead, the man before me is staring directly at me, the sweetest smile across his lips. His little nose scrunch in full effect, his beautiful hazel eyes creased in the corner from his smile. That smile that could melt my heart in two seconds flat. Staring at the screen for what felt like centuries, I refocus on my surroundings when I hear his soft voice behind me. 

“Wow, Y/N. Getting a little slow with the changes now, are we?” He laughs, before noticing the look on my face. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looks at me confused more than ever. Not being able to form words, I raise my hand to show him the wallpaper, the perfect image of us. His eyes go wide, his mug almost slipping through his fingers.

“Y/N, I-” He starts. 

“Spence… Where did this picture come from?” I ask him, looking back at the screen before me. “I’ve never seen this one before,” I whisper, before Spencer puts his hands over mine, the mug now living on his desk. 

“I, uh. I took this one before making a face, I just couldn’t resist.” He whispers, pulling my chin up gently between his two fingers, looking me dead in the eye. “Y/N…” He starts, glancing down before gazing back at me with the same look I saw at the restaurant. “I couldn’t resist because I wanted to keep a physical copy of one of the happiest moments of my life. And I care about you... More than care about you! You make my days so much brighter when you’re around. You’re the only person to ever know me, the real me. And I..” he trails off, working his confidence up to finish his thought. “I love you, Y/N. And that picture was saved, locked away on my phone so I could be reminded how much you mean to me, and how much you care on some of my darkest days. I love you, Y/N. It’s the only thing I have locked away because it’s the moment I knew I was in love with you.” He finishes, breathing out as he waits for me to react. Stunned into silence, I stand there looking at the man, seeing his face turn to panic. “It’s okay if you do-” He starts, stunned when he is cut off by his plush lips being covered by my own. He slides his hand onto my cheek, holding my face as he returns the affection. 

Pulling away, I look him dead in the eye, I pull out of his embrace to my own desk, grabbing my phone. Returning to his side, I unlock my phone to show him my own hidden homescreen, a grin spreading on my cheeks from the flood of emotion. From our self-care night, it is quite possibly my favorite image of the man. He was in his robe, bunny headband and mask, but he was trying to block the images from being taken. His hand was raised in an attempt, but I could hear the laughter radiate from the image, the smile making my heart swoon at every glance. Looking between me and the image, Spencer’s jaw drops at my own revelation, before pulling me into a bone-crushing hug. Burying my face in his neck, I murmur my own “I love you.” Before a whistle from the peanut gallery beside us breaks it up. 

Shooting a look to Penelope, I see she has the biggest smile plastered on her own face, her rosy cheeks probably stinging from the sheer joy painted on. Morgan sitting beside her lounges back in his own chair, shooting a wink our way. 

Returning to our respective seats, I can’t help but steal glances at the man beside me. When he catches me, I can’t help but giggle.

“Hey Spence. How long was I oblivious to your homescreen?” I ask him, curious as to how much of a dumbass I truly was. Seeing his cheeks flush pink, he turns to me with guilt in his eyes, 

“Y/N.. as much as I would love to take the credit, I don’t know where the wallpaper came from. I can barely change it back after you mess with it.” He confesses, a shy smile on his face. Laughing at his technophobe ways, it finally registers that he didn’t actually set the wallpaper. 

“Wait, then who changed it?” I ask him, before hearing stilettos and boots scurrying down the hall, laughter trailing behind them. Looking back at my boy, those eyes stole all my words away, and that smile… the smile I had seen so many times before but never knew the intention, the smile I fell in love with, I knew he would forever be my always.

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

Taglist: @spencer-reid-in-a-pool​  @redbullchick​  @samanddeanstolethetardis221b​   @reidetic​ @gretaamyk​ @sunlight-moonrise​ @prettyricky187​ @rileysann​ @itslatinamagia​ @timey-wimey-lovi​  @pinkdiamond1016​

[blueskrugs]

Tim McGraw | Brock Boeser

ahhhh! this is the first fic of the swift series! I can’t believe I am actually going to try and pull this off for the next five months. I hope you guys like it and big shoutout to @broadstbroskis for being my sounding board throughout all this fic planning and then beta-ing this!

length: 1.6k words

But when you think Tim McGraw,  I hope you think my favorite song

Falling in love with Brock was easy. 

It was the summer before your sophomore year of college, on the precipice of both your lives changing, though neither of you knew it at the time. 

Time seemed to move slower that summer, long sunny days blending into bonfire nights out by the lake, September nothing more than a distant day on the calendar. You watched as Brock’s hair turned more blond and his shoulders turned more tan, hours outside in the sun doing their job. 

You remembered the first time Brock kissed you; you weren’t sure it was something you’d ever forget. You’d spent weeks dancing around each other, learning each other, had spent an entire Fourth of July party practically glued to each other’s sides. It seemed more than inevitable by the time it finally happened.

He called you late one night, woke you up and begged you to meet him down at the lakefront. You went, because of course you did, met him down at the dock, where he was waiting with a pile of blankets in the speedboat his family used. He tossed you one of his UND hoodies with a grin before helping you onto the boat. You settled into the nest of blankets in the prow as Brock carefully steered the boat out from the dock and into the middle of the lake. 

It was a clear night, the stars and the full moon shining brightly against the still, dark lake, and a quiet one. The only sounds filling the air were the quiet hum of the boat’s motor and Brock’s country playlist playing quietly from his phone, neither quite loud enough to drown out the constant buzz of the cicadas. 

Brock cut the motor and came to sit behind you. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He was warm and solid behind you, and you were both quiet for a moment, just listening to the music.

“This is one of my favorite songs,” you murmured, as Tim McGraw’s “Humble and Kind” started filtering through the speakers.

“I know,” Brock said simply. You didn’t remember telling him that. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear, steady and calm. 

You were caught up in trying to remember when you’d told Brock your favorite song when he shifted a little behind you. You twisted in his arms to see what was the matter, but then he was kissing you, softly in the moonlight, and you didn’t get the chance.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted after he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. His breath fanned across your face when he breathed out a sigh. Tim McGraw was still playing somewhere behind you.

“I would’ve let you,” you said back.

Brock breathed out a laugh and kissed you again, one hand tangled in your hair, the other still wrapped around your waist.

And I was right there beside him all summer long,  And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone

For all that that summer seemed endless while it was happening, it ended abruptly, shattering the peaceful love you and Brock had been building out on the lake. 

You snuck out one last time, both of you dressed in something other than a swimsuit for once, spent the night in each other’s arms with your bare feet dangling in the lake off the dock, the stars and the moon lighting your way once again.

You weren’t sure you’d ever look at the summer stars the same way when you were older.

Brock went back to UND. Your family moved away from Minnesota. Summer romances were never meant to last, you told yourself, as you left yours in the dust.

Brock promised he would keep in touch, pressed a green UND hoodie into your hands and a goodbye kiss to your lips. You smiled at him, because you knew it would never last, and it didn’t. Brock had other things to focus on, hockey and his future. It was only a matter of time until he forgot you. 

You spent a lot of time wearing that hoodie he gave you in the beginning, more time than you cared to admit. You spent more time crying than you cared to admit, too. You kept wearing it long after it stopped smelling like Brock and summer, until it was almost nothing to you and the comfort of it was gone. Almost.

Brock’s texts trickled to a stop before Christmas, but you couldn’t blame him. You’d always had a feeling that this– whatever this had been– had meant more to you than it had to him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop following him, though, not even when your friends and family gave you pitying looks, not when UND got booted out of the championship tournament. “He’s just a boy,” they’d say, but they also say you never forget your first love, don’t they? You watched his first NHL game, at home in Minnesota, his first NHL goal, too. And if you cried a little, well, at least there was no else around to see it. 

Years passed, and, slowly, you moved on. Brock’s sweatshirt made its way to the back of your closet. You fell in love again, fell out of love. Stopped loving Brock. You graduated college. You never did go back to the lake, wondered if Brock ever had. If he’d waited for you, or if he’d moved in and found another girl to spend the summer with. For the most part, you forgot about Brock. Forgot about his laugh, about the way he’d roll his eyes when you teased him. How he knew your favorite songs. You did your best to, at least. It was easier said than done for a long time.

But in a box beneath my bed, there’s a letter that you never read from three summers back It’s hard not to find it all a little bittersweet...

You were cleaning out your old bedroom at your parents’ house when you found it. It was a letter you’d written to Brock after that summer, when you were confused and lonely, filled with all the things that you didn’t have the courage to say to his face. It was in an envelope, addressed and stamped, but you’d never planned on sending it. In all the chaos of moving that fall, it had gotten thrown in a box and shoved under your bed to be forgotten. 

You remembered every word you’d written, but you carefully pulled it out anyway. You read that letter again and again over the next few days, always pausing on the last words you wrote before you signed your name: “I love you.”

It was another several days before you pulled out a clean sheet of paper and a pen, wrote a continuation to that letter. You’d loved Brock once, yes, but you didn’t anymore, not in the same way. There were no tears left in this story. He’d always be your first love, and you’d always want the best for him. You just no longer felt your heart break every time you thought of him, and you hadn’t for a long time. 

You hoped that he was happy out there in Vancouver, living his dream.

And there’s a letter left on your doorstep, And the first thing that you’ll read...

“Brock, there’s a letter for you!” his mom called through the house.

“Who sends letters anymore?” he asked, which earned him a smack with the envelope. He took it from his mom anyway. The return address was unfamiliar, out-of-state, and there was no name, but he felt like he’d seen the handwriting somewhere before. He took the envelope out on the back deck with Coolie, carefully slid his thumb under the flap and opened it.

A picture slid out from in-between two folded pieces of paper when he tugged them out. It took only a quick glance at it to tell him exactly who had sent him this letter. It was a picture of the two of you at that Fourth of July party you’d spent together all those summers ago. Brock had spent the entire day trying not to kiss you right there in front of everyone.

Brock smiled at the picture for a moment. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, your hands reaching up to grasp his. You were both laughing at some joke long forgotten. He didn’t even remember anyone taking the picture. He carefully set it aside to turn his attention to the letter. He read in silence as the afternoon sun slowly dipped lower in the sky. Coolie was off somewhere in the grass, having found a stick to chew on.

Brock read the letter, then again. He stared at your name on the bottom of each page for a minute before carefully refolding them. He whistled once for Coolie, who came running, still carrying the stick. 

“Where are you off to?” his mom asked as he made his way back into the house and grabbed his car keys.

“For a drive.”

When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think of me

The letter was tossed in his glovebox. Brock plugged in his aux, pulled up Spotify, and scrolled all the way down to his country playlist. There was a song on there he didn’t listen to very often, could never really explain why he always skipped it, but right now he clicked on it and turned the volume up.

“Always stay humble and kind,” sang Tim McGraw as he put his car and drive and allowed himself to remember, just this once.

[dokoni-mo]

Far Away, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Chapter 5.5)

(IMPORTANT A/N PLEASE READ: oh boy am i nervous to post this,, hello everyone!! this is my first time ever writing smut!! this chapter is basically a continuation upon the previous chapter of the series that I have been working on. You could consider this chapter to be an OVA chapter of sorts... I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether or not this chapter is cannon to the story or not. With that being said, this chapter has very little to do with the story of the series. But, I still tagged all my normal people in the list since it is technically part of the series (if you don’t want to be tagged for things like this, please tell me and i’ll remove you!!). I also wanna give a big shoutout/thanks to @hxldmxdxwn​ (pls dont be mad for me tagging you,,) for giving me some advice for writing smut and being a huge inspo for me!! Thank you so much :)))) Anyway, if you are not interested in smut or don’t like smut, feel free to overlook this chapter!! Our regularly scheduled programming will be continued soon. However, if you do read on, I do hope you enjoy what you see!! have fun ;) ))) 

Chapter One: [x]

Chapter Two: [x]

Chapter Three: [x]

Chapter Four: [x]

Chapter Five: [x]

WARNINGS: SMUT!!!! light dom/sub references, usage of titles, fingering, force-bonding, inappropriate usage of the force, cursing, otherwise none!!

Key: (F/N) = first name

Word Count: ~4700

~~

Much to your dismay, the song that you and him had danced to eventually met it's inevitable end. 

The pair of you stood a moment longer in each other’s arms as you heard the music slowly fade into the muffled chatter of nobility and officers saying their adieu as they left the venue, the tiredness of the night creeping its way onto their bones. You felt a quick wash of sadness swim overtop of you as your ears confirmed that the song was over, making you frown slightly. Lingering your head upon his taunt chest for a moment longer, your face assumed a soft smile as you looked up at him, laced with a hint of nervousness and awkwardness as you tried to figure out what to say to him This task proved difficult, however, since you knew you had to say something, but you had no idea as to what that something would be. 

Hey, that was pretty neat? No way. There’s no way you’d be able to sleep at night if you said that. 

Thanks? No! That was just rude. 

Hey I really like you even though you are kinda intimidating and could totally snap me in half right here and right now but hey at least you would have touched me? This one was pretty self explanatory. 

“I… I never took you for such a good dancer.” You eventually settled on saying, your cheeks reddening as your eyes twinkled up at him. It was a decent thing to say, you figured. It was in no way a lie, and you had even thrown in a friendly joke. A fine performance.

“And I have never taken you as one to accept such things.” Lord Vader responded to you, his grip upon your tiny frame not faltering for even a moment. His hold was strong, stable, supportive, solid, and a plethora of other things that started with s. Some of which, however, lingered on the… indecent side of things. 

Letting a small giggle escape your lips, you made no attempt to quip back at him as you stared into the eyes of his mask. You had wished that the lenses were at least somewhat transparent within that moment. You craved to see his eyes as they burned into your own, letting you see every emotion that lingered in them as he looked upon you. If you were a braver person, you would reach up and take off the plate of metal yourself.

Alas, you were not. 

After a moment of looking upon him, you let your gaze fall to the panel of buttons upon his stomach, a small smile painting your lips as you snaked your hand from behind his back to let your hand rest upon the armor of his chest, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of the square of buttons. 

“I should…” you began, your eyes still locked  upon the panel of buttons before you, “I should probably start getting ready for bed. We still have to… mingle in the morning, and-” 

“No.” He spoke quickly, almost too quickly, as he cut you off, his voice a touch louder than it should have been.

“(F/N)...” he began, his voice sounding so much deeper than normal to you, “please… stay here. Stay with me.” 

Before you could even think, you felt his arm that was wrapped around your waist slowly retreat and the hand that was in yours unlatch itself. His large hands eventually found their new home upon your ribcage just below your armpits, his grip as strong and sturdy just as before, perhaps even a touch more. Lord Vader’s hands were quite big as they rested upon your tiny body, the expanse of his palms nearly engulfing you whole. Feeling the sheer size of his hands around you, your cheeks flushed deeper pink as you bit your lip, trying to control your indecent thoughts. 

“O-Okay…” you stammered out, still refusing to meet his intense gaze upon your face. Not knowing what else to do with your hands, you rested them gingerly upon the underside of his muscular, leather-bound arms, your thumbs roaming the surface of the material for any feeling of flesh you could make out below it. 

After a long moment of the sith lord holding you in place in silence, you heard his breathing hitch in his respirator as his hands started to travel down your body. Slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, his strong, gargantuan hands made their way to rest upon your hips, his thumbs starting to rub the bone below your skin.

This in no way helped to coax your blush down or to stop the scandalous thoughts that plagued your mind. 

Without even telling yourself to do so, you lifted your hands from their position on his arms to rest upon the large expanse of his chest, the tips of your fingers hiding underneath the plate of metal that adorned his shoulders in order to get even a fraction closer to the skin beneath. You felt your inner temperature rise at the thought of seeing the man underneath the familiar armor. 

“(F/N),” He rumbled out from behind his mask, a distant purr within the depths of his voice, “Have I ever told you how breathtakingly... alluring I find you?” 

You swallowed thickly at his words, your cheeks nearly reaching a boiling point in heat. You paused for a moment to make sure that you were still alive before you could respond, your hands tensing upon his chest. 

“I-I find you alluring too, Vader…” you responded, still refusing to make eye contact with the dark lord. What you had said was in no way a lie. From the very first moment that you had lain eyes upon Lord Vader, you had always held an odd attraction to him. You had always wondered what it would feel like to have his hands upon you, what it would sound like to hear his voice call out your name. 

This was the perfect time for you to feed into your curiosity. Never in a million years did you expect to be there in that moment, locked tight in the sith lord’s grasp, his hands on your hips. Your body was so very hot, so very in need.

“(F/N).” You hear Lord Vader say, the usage of your name sending a shiver of cold down your heated spine. Before you could register what was happening, you felt the grip on your hips tighten as he pulled you closer to his much larger body, your frame now flush up against his. Beneath your soft skin, you could feel the faint warmth of his body underneath the suit drawing you into him, beckoning for you to merge into one with the dark lord. The feeling of the leather bounding his body rubbing against your skin made the hair stand up on your arms, your legs almost wobbling at the amount of power and authority that radiated off of him. 

It was intoxicating. 

Exasperating.

Thrilling. 

Nerve-wracking. 

You craved more. 

But… 

“V-Vader we…” you began to say, your eyes still trained on his chest before you, “We can’t-” 

“Do not try and shy yourself away from me, (F/N).” said Lord Vader, the grip he had upon you tightening in case you tried to push your body away, “I sense your desire… Your desire for me. Do not try and fool yourself.” 

You bit your lip again as you nodded, still unable to look up at him. You were embarrassed, but you didn’t exactly know why. 

“Besides…” he continued on, removing one of his hands from your hip. You would have been sad at the absence of his touch if he did not replace it so soon after. Finding it's new home upon your chin, Lord Vader wrapped his fingers around the bone firmly yet gently, lifting it up to make you look at nothing but him, right in the eyes. 

“Are you in any position to tell your superior what he can and can not do with his subordinate, Miss (F/N)?” he asked you rhetorically, the purr in his voice rattling you to the core. Your face, as well as your entire being, was on fire at this point. You swallowed thickly but silently as your eyes were forced to look into his, your want of seeing his real ones growing and growing the longer you searched for them. 

“N-No, my Lord…” you were able to whisper out as you felt your mind go blank with nothing else but need. 

Pausing to inspect your face a moment longer, Lord Vader eventually removed his hand from your chin, using it instead to stroke a lock of your hair on the side of your head. 

“Good girl…” he purred out, making your breath stammer as it escaped your lungs. 

With this, he took his hands off of you in order to stand up fully straight, his figure looming over you as his gaze bore into your eyes. The absence of his touch upon your body making you feel cold, you looked up at him with pleading eyes, a small frown painting your lips. He was so much taller than you, making you feel so, so small by comparison. His frame engulfed you whole, and you bathed in every moment of it. 

“Now, allow me to take care of you, (F/N).” 

He nodded his head slowly to his side. 

“Get on the bed.” 

With barely a moment’s hesitation, you followed his order to the mark. Keeping your gaze down, you bit your lip as you kicked off your boots and rolled onto the bed, sitting such that your knees were slightly bent at obtuse angles and your back was rested against the headboard of the bed. Your face still flushed, you looked over to the tall, looming sith lord across the room, waiting for him to come and take you. 

Sensing that you were in a good position, Lord Vader turned to face you, taking his sweet time making his way over to the bedside. 

You wanted to whine and scream about how slow he was being. The worst part about it, you knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

How cruel. 

Unable to keep his gaze off of you, he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, the metal and wood of it's frame groaning beneath his weight. 

“(F/N),” he said, his tone deep yet somehow patient, “Are you scared?” 

The question took you aback for a moment, making you stir in place. Pursing your lips, your gaze dropped for a moment before you stammered out your response. 

“A-A little… It's… been a long time, since I…” 

“I see.” Lord Vader responded without you having to finish. 

He knew exactly what you meant. 

“You do not need to worry, my sweet… I promise that I will not hurt you.” he rumbled out as he slowly shifted his weight, earning another groan from the bedding beneath. His size making you slip down so that you were laid on the bed, you noticed how his cape draped over his shoulders as he pinned you to the mattress, acting as a veil to shield you from the outside world. 

A curtain of him. 

The sheer size of the man on top of you made you realize just how large he was. You felt so tiny, so small compared to the mass of his arms and chest. Feeling the heat radiate off your face as you looked up at him, all you knew to do with yourself was to look dumbly into this mask, eager for his next move. 

It came in and took your breath away. 

“Undress yourself. Don’t stop until I say so.” 

Maker, he had barely even touched you, and you were already so in need of him. 

Following his command, you lifted your hands from resting on either side of your head to find their place upon the seam of your uniform’s coat. Your fingers trembling slightly, you undid the buttons of your coat, slipping it off as best as you could while being pinned underneath Lord Vader. Your eyes focused on taking off your uniform, you could feel his gaze upon you as you slowly exposed more and more of your skin to him, your ears filled with nothing but the rustle of cloth and his breath. Biting your lip, you slid your tank-top off of your torso and threw it to the side, leaving you in nothing but your bra to cover your top half. You shuddered as the cold air around you crept it's way upon your body.

With another faint moment of hesitation, you slid your hands downwards to the him of your uniform pants, curling your fingers to ready yourself to take it off. 

“No.” You heard him say before you could finish the job, “I will do that part myself. You may stop.” 

Obeying his wishes, you returned your hands to rest of either side of your head, your gaze returning to meet his mask. Without him even doing anything, you were already a mess beneath him. Your skin was glossed from the dew that expelled itself from your person as you heated up, your breath coming out in soft, silent pants. 

Maker above did he drink in the sight of you. 

You were so pretty beneath him, looking at him like that. 

The best part? 

You were absolutely, unquestionably, undoubtedly, undeniably, his. 

And his only. 

Shifting his weight over to one of his arms, he lifted up his free hand, resting it upon your stomach. Of course, his hand was humongous as it laid upon your skin, nearly stretching the entire expanse of your middle. The feeling of the cool leather made you let out a silent gasp, a twinge of embarrassment bubbling in the back of your mind. Lord Vader trailed up and down your stomach and side for a good while before traveling up further, your eyes fixated on the movements of his hand. 

Feeling his fingertips poke their way under the wiring of your bra, you couldn’t stop yourself as you lifted up your hands to your face, hiding yourself underneath them as a result of your inexplicable embarrassment. 

Lord Vader did not like this. 

“No.” Lord Vader demanded. Without warning, you felt the ghost of a pull upon your wrists, forcing them back into their original position by your head no matter how much you fought against it. Your mind confused for a moment, you quickly deduced that it must have been him. His power. 

“You will not hide yourself from me.” He continued on, stopping any movements of his hands, “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes… Yes, I’m sorry.” you gasped out in between your pants, your legs squirming for him to keep going. 

Even though he said nothing in response, he must have been satisfied with the answer since he continued his movements. Through the sheer strength of his fingers, Lord Vader pushed past the wiring of our bra, cupping your breast in his large hand. 

Just the feeling of his engrossing touch upon your breast made you let out a soft moan, causing you to bite your lip in surprise. You were beyond turned on at this point, wanting nothing more than for him to just keep going. 

Letting out a few more soft, quiet moans as he begun to knead your breast in his palm, you finally mustered enough courage to look up into his mask. Of course, the metal offered you no way of telling what exactly he was thinking, but offered you a source to give your needy, lust-laced gaze to. 

You felt so good. 

You felt so good because of him. 

You knew that you would want him for the rest of time. 

You knew that only he would ever make you feel like this again and again. 

Eventually deciding that enough was enough, Lord Vader removed his hand from your breast and out from under your bra, his removal causing the fabric to go back onto your body at an odd angle. The absence of his massages made you whine, looking up at him pleadingly to touch you again. 

Your requests were eventually met as he trailed the tips of his fingers down from your breast to your stomach to the hem of your uniform pants, the gentle touches earning themselves another shudder out of you. 

Wrapping his fingers around the hem, the dark lord stopped himself for a moment to look upon your face. Satisfied with your expression of want and need, he pulled down the cloth wrapping around your legs, discarding it without any ounce of care about it or where it landed. This night was surely full of surprises. You had never thought that  you would ever be sprawled out underneath Lord Vader in only your bra and panties.

But, there you were. 

You barely had any time to react before he made you gasp out another moan, his leather-bound fingers rubbing up and down the cloth that covered your aching, dripping core. Continuing his actions, you began to squirm and whimper for him to remove your panties. Your legs kicked and shuffled as moans and whines left your throat, making you sound so pitiful as you gripped onto his cape, the fabric soft in your fingers. 

“Quiet.” He rumbled out as he stopped him movements, focusing one hard press against the cloth that covered your clit. Opening your mouth in a silent gasp, you quickly shut it as your forced yourself to stay still, not wanting to find out what would happen were you to disobey him. 

Satisfied with your submission, Lord Vader must have decided that you were ready for him fully. Reaching his fingers up, he latched the waistband of the fabric around his large digits, so very achingly slowly pulling it down past your thighs, knees, and feet. 

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you felt your panties fall off your person, earning another shudder from the cold. Lord Vader’s breath had started to pick up the pace as he loomed down over your body. 

He was… pleased. 

So very pleased. 

Never had seen such a beautiful sight sprawled out underneath him. 

Wanting him. 

Needing him. 

Deciding to be so gracious as to entertain your needs, he swiped his leathery middle and pointer finger up the length of your folds, the slick coming from them coating the digits instantly, earning another low, shallow moan from you. Amused by this, Lord Vader brought his soaked fingers up closer to his mask, inspecting how the liquid shined in the soft glow of the dim lighting surrounding the pair of you. 

“I am most impressed, Miss (F/N),” he said to you, turning his attention back to your reddened face, “Already this in need, and I have barely even begun.” 

Cue another whine to escape from behind your lips, your hands gripping and kneading on his cape. 

“Vader… please... “ you whined softly, your eyes full of pitiful gleam, “I need you so badly…” 

Returning his hand to rest between the folds of your core, he pressed his middle and pointer finger against your entrance, another moan shooting out of your lungs. 

“As you wish, Miss (F/N).” 

Slowly but surely, Lord Vader pushed the tip of his leather-bound middle finger into your core, your walls fluttering in your excitement. A flurry of moans and gasps left your person as he continued to push inside of you, only stopping once you were filled. He paused for a moment to let you get adjusted before he began to push his digit in and out of your core, the sounds of this action downright sinful to hear. 

You were a mess beneath him. As he gingerly started to increase his pace, your mind started to go blank as the pleasure overwhelmed you, a flurry of moans, gasps, and pleads escaping from your lungs. All you could think about was him, how good you felt because of him. 

You wanted him for the rest of time. 

You wanted him to keep going for the rest of time. 

Deciding that you in no way have had enough, you groaned as he pushed his pointer finger inside of you, right alongside his middle one. The stretching of your walls almost made you scream in pleasure, your nails digging in to the fabric of his cape. You could have sworn that you had seen stars. 

“So eager…” You heard him say in between your moans and quiet pleads, “So ready to receive me…” 

Leaning down to get closer, you unconsciously reached up and wrapped yours arms around his broad shoulders the best you could, your fists bunching up the fabric of his cape. 

Turning his mask to rest near your ear, a ripple of pleasure ran through your body as you heard Lord Vader speak, his tone deeper and darker than ever before. 

“Such a good girl.” 

Before you could blubber out a response, you felt his fingers curl themselves inside of you, hitting right on the spot that made your whole body shake with pleasure. The rate of your moans picking up, the pace of which the finger-fucked you did as well, eventually leading him to add a third finger to the mix. Every single noise that was coming from your body could have made the filthiest porn star ever blush. Your moans were so very desperate, and the sound of your core’s juices being mixed with the rapid pace of his fingers filling the space the pair of you shared. 

Reaching up with his thumb, Lord Vader started to rub circles into your clit, making you moan out his name almost too loudly. He seemed to be pleased by this, since you had noticed that his pace had started to quicken as his breathing became more and more rapid. Seeing a way to maximize the amount of pleasure you could get, you continued to moan out his name, sometimes even accompanied by his title. The usage of Lord Vader would cause him to rumble out quiet groans from behind his mask, the bass making your chest rattle. 

His pace reaching a feverous state, you could feel the knot building up in your vagina grow tighter and tighter as it promised an up-coming release. This promise only made your already over-stimulated body shake and shudder with more and more pleasure, the sounds escaping your mouth proof of such.

“I sense that you are close.” Lord Vader said to you, your mind barely able to process the words. 

You nodded your head quickly, a mumble of strings of pleases and don’t stops falling from your lips in place of a sentence. 

“(F/N)...” he groaned, his gaze boring into the fiber of your being. 

Without any warning, you began to feel a buzz from inside of you. This was different from the knot you felt growing tighter and tighter, but it felt as if it came from no where. It felt as if it came directly from your soul, the very source of your existence. Your brow flexing in fuzzy confusion, you were perplexed until you felt a new sensation. It felt as if your very soul was reaching out, making branches to do as such. 

Reaching out to him. 

And you felt his own reach back. 

The sheer rush of it all was too much to bear. The feeling of his fingers force themselves in and out of you so quickly. The feeling of his thumb circling your clit. The feeling of his force bonding your energy and his together. 

It was euphoric. 

It was pure bliss. 

“That’s it, my sweet,” you heard him call to you, “Let go. Let go for your lord. Let go for me.”

Your orgasm raked itself over your body in waves, making your legs shake and the grip you had upon his cape tighten, turning your knuckles white. You almost screamed out his name as your walls fluttered around his digits, coating them further in your fluids. 

Oh, how he loved it.

Eventually coming down from your high, you laid there for a long moment beneath the dark lord, his fingers halting to a pause inside of you. His breath was quite ragged as he remained still, almost matching your own pants for air as he gazed upon your body. 

Once you had stopped shaking from pleasure, he slowly slid his fingers from out of your core, sending one last wave of euphoria through your nerves. 

You looked up at him with glossy eyes and a dumb, open-mouthed smile as the back of his knuckles brushed against your cheek, moving any stray hairs out of your face. 

He would never admit it, to anyone, but the sight of you beneath him, with that big, dopey, loving smile on your face, your souls freshly bonded together, was the most beautiful thing that he had ever witnessed. 

After a long pause of simply admiring your face and body, he finally spoke. 

“Get some rest, my dear. We have matters to attend to in the morning.” 

You were confused for a moment as you felt his weight lift off of you, the bed creaking in relief as he stood. A pang of weary sadness rippled through you as you watched him start to leave, walking over the pieces of your uniform that littered the floor. Eventually able to process what was happening, you reached out to him, grabbing on to the fabric of his cape to keep him from moving away any further. 

“W-wait,” you said, your lungs still panting for air, “please, d-don’t go… Will you please stay? With me? At least until I fall asleep…?” 

After a brief pause, Lord Vader turned to  you, pointing the face of his mask down to your face. 

Seeing the emotion in your eyes as you reached out to him rustled an old feeling that he had not known for a very long time. In a moment of self-reflection, a reel of his life prior to this moment flashed inside of his mind, reminding him of his past self, alongside every mistake he had ever made

Watching his actions play back to him, he decided something. 

Even though he had left everyone he had ever loved before behind… 

He would not leave you. 

He would stay. 

“Yes.” He said simply as he took your hand into his, holding it as if it were made of the most fragile material in the world. Walking back over to you, he slowly slid down into a seat position upon the bed, earning another groan of protest from the wood beneath. His back against the headboard, he watched as you slid your body close to his own, your warmth reaching his skin beneath all the layers of armor and leather surrounding him, a foreign feeling to the dark lord of the sith. Lord Vader draped his strong, heavy arm over your shoulder as you draped one of your own over his waist, pulling yourself closer to him. 

Nothing was said as you lulled yourself off to sleep, a feeling of security overtaking you as you were held within the arms of the most feared man in the galaxy. 

~~~

TAGS: @spaghetti-666​ , @soullesstaco​ , @arsonistvoyager​ , @robin-obsessed​ , @glitter-rian​ , @captainrexstan​ , @easterncryptid​ , @deviatedwinter​ , @roseangel013bf​ , @danicalifxrnia​ , @dartheldur​ , @finest-trashbag​ , @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii​ , @elongatedmusk-rat​ , @shads121​ 

[sparklingpax]

Sweet Bother, That’s What You Are

A.N: 

(starring my two TFP OCs, Paxie and Sharpflint, who will be getting sketch posts um.........eventually o///o’’)

-HIIIIII So. Potentially the first of many drabbles with these two <3 There’s no official story story, really....just whatever comes to mind if I feel like writing it! ^w^

-I actually managed to find the first time I did a drabble for them, idk, kinda dumb, but thought I’d link in case you were interested ^^’’ 

-This one’s kinda dumb too I apologize but I wanted to write it so

-Sorry for grammar, punctuation, word usage, spelling, etc mistakes......it’s late and I’m falling asleep and my brain is on Full Sunshine Happy Things mode so I’m just trying to dump all that into this story >:3 

-What planet are they on that has metallic trees and rocks?? uM?? uh--ok well,,,,,,same planet as the last one sorry I’m not very creative idk why I need so many trees for my writing anyway lmfao akjdjsd

-So when is this set then?? Ok so. After the war; in this universe here, which is not an au btw (or is it?? idk?? the events are assumed to be exactly the same as prime and other aligned continuity stuff just with these two inserted in the background if that makes any sense at all,,,,) Paxie was from one of the first generations after the war; Sharpflint fought in the war as an Autobot so,,,theres that. 

-May I just note for the record so no one asks or makes assumptions, their relationship is fully inteded to be really good friendship & it’s Not romantic. Sorry if I made it confusing in the writing sdjsdj basically I love writing romantic stuff but for once I want to write a Good Friends dynamic ^w^ hope thats okie!

-Also no Sharpflint is not actually old, he’d be more like a 35-year old and Paxie’s might be 25-ish. If you wanted to visualize it in human years I guess because we’re all........human..? She’s just fooling around 😹✨

-SHOUTOUT TO Y’ALL WHO ENCOURAGED ME TO START POSTING MY DRABBLE IDEAS!! I hope I do not disappoint too much ^^’’ 

-hhhhh & it be Short™ o///o but I hope you like it!!! thanks for reading!!! :)

///

Paxie kicked a stray rock back into its place on the side of the road and pouted. Arms folded behind her back, she did her best to tune out whatever Sharpflint was on about. Why?

“—and Primus fragging heck, Paxie, you know that as your friend—no, respected elder and mentor—I do not want to find your corpse on the side of the highway because you refuse to learn that—”

Yes. That. Because he was lecturing her about how strongly he disagreed with her personal stance in the Natural Form movement. However, she was not truly annoyed at all. It was a peaceful afternoon and she’d managed to convince Sharpflint to ditch patrol to walk with her. 

I’m going to have some fun here--after all, I’m giving up my free day, the one day I don’t have classes!!

Suddenly, one of his words registered in her mind and she got an idea. 

Paxie tapped his arm. He came to a halt alongside her, breaking off abruptly to give her a scathing ‘WHAT.’ However he swallowed that, too when he saw her face.

“You got one thing right, salty engines,” Paxie started, feigning frustration.

Sharpflint narrowed his yellow optics—he absolutely detested that ridiculous nickname.

“Oh?” He muttered back, half annoyed. “Enlighten me.”

Paxie shook her head, heaving a dramatic sigh. “Well, you’re old. But you’re not my mentor—you’re too old to be my mentor. I’d need a spry, young, whippersnapper like myself! In fact—wait—”

She did a shushing motion and looked around. Sharpflint moaned quietly, rolling his eyes hard. He waited for her to continue roasting him.

“Yes…yes, I can hear it!”

He decided to play along, folding his arms as he towered over her. “Hear what, Paxie?”

“Listen!! I can hear the high concentration of salt in your attitude rusting your rotor blades!!”

Frag me, Primus why.

“I can hear it from a mile—”

Sharpflint picked her up, smirking as her words melted into surprised yelping. He hoisted her over his shoulder, gripping her legs as the rest of her body hung over his back, and eyed the tree a small ways ahead of them. His grin grew wider.

“Old, huh?”

“Yes!!” Paxie was laughing now, gasping for air.

“Well, then, I’ll just show you how us elderly were taught to run!”

“FLINT!!!”

He swung her in a circle before racing ahead to the tree, prompting more giggled cries. His eyes glinted while his shorter friend shouted, playfully indignant, and demanded to be put down.

“I’ll snap you in two, you robot stick!!”

“Try it, tiny!! You’d barely leave a scratch!”

“OH—” Paxie narrowed her optics and whacked his green plating, still laughing. “SO SAYS ‘MR. INSULTS ARE RUDE’!! WOW!!”

Sharpflint let out a laugh himself, reaching the tree. Sure I said that, but I never said I couldn’t joke around…

“Hey, what are y—WAHHAHHHHHNOONONO—”

The two mechs had made it to the tree, so Sharpflint naturally tossed Paxie just high enough for her to land in one of the branches. As he’d hoped, she latched on and balled up against the metallic surface, optics wide with shock.

Take that, you adorable little scrap. Sharpflint nodded to himself, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his head back to take in the view. Paxie started giggling again, wailing down at him to help her off the branch .

“I’m only as old as the middle of the Great War!”

“You’re a salty, rusty sack of bolts!!”

Sharpflint sighed, turning away. “You and Mr. Tree can keep each other company until I come back here for patrol….” He pretended to think deeply, then calmly finished, “Four days from now.”

“Fine! You’re only as old as the youngest old bot from the war!!”

“Three days.”

“You’re a not-so-old dork!”

“Hmmm….” Sharpflint let the silence sink in, as if he were actually deeply considering her words. Paxie sighed audibly.

“You’re my favorite old dork--the best friend I could ask for!”

At this, Sharpflint turned and regarded her, beaming down at him. He unfolded his arms, chuckling lightly.

“I was going to let you down anyway, you know..” he said a little more quietly, feeling a little warm after her previous comment. The purple-white mech grinned back down at him.

“I know! I just wanted to say!”

Paxie was his closest friend, even if she was young, and didn’t know how bleak life could be—which was half the reason they ever got into fights in the first place anyway. Sometimes it’s hard to see eye-to-eye with someone who’s led a completely different life than your own. Both Sharpflint and Paxie were aware of that.

All that same, she was sunshine and openness.

Paxie was…simply put, a great friend.

Sharpflint cracked a small smile—not a smirk, but a real smile.

“You want to meet again at Silicon’s tonight?”

“Only if you’re paying!”

Sharpflint heaved another sigh, slumping over. Well, what else was to be expected? After all, the helicopter mech had thrown his friend into a tree. He couldn’t say no.

Well, no, he could, really should...but it would be rude—

“Oh, dear Primus,” he murmured under his breath, continuing to gaze up at Paxie, still hugging the tree branch for her dear life.

“Yay!! Silicon’s!!” Paxie cheered like a young sparkling, then cut herself off as her celebratory motions caused the branch to sway a bit too much. 

“Thank goodness for frequent paychecks…”

But above all, thank goodness for friends. Especially the ones that drive a bot nuts. Paxie, I’d give my life for you. 

[maniacalmagician]

EVERHOOD: Pinocchio in Psychedelic Purgatory: the Rock Opera Adventure. OR: I walked backwards into hell, and felt euphoria as I became privvy to the Divine Truths

Hello tumblr people. I’ve been Away. I played a game recently and I wanted to talk about it.   damnit i really wanted to put pictures into this mini essay. ive been away from this garbage site for too long, i dont know how to do it lol.  ok anyway    First, I want to say to the developers and anyone else that this has quickly become one of my all time favorite games. Currently writing I have personally never felt a greater emotional attachment to an experience with a piece of software. Perhaps it is the extreme idiosyncratic nature of it, perhaps it is the deeply intriguing storyline, mostly however it is a combination of those in addition to some of the most outstanding psychedelic visuals I have ever seen, particularly in the finale sequence, and a killer soundtrack that combines many genres but focuses mostly to being as bangers as possible. I will be upfront and say this game comes with a boatload of trigger warnings, and thus the aforementioned idiosyncratic nature of it may not appeal to everyone, however I feel it necessary to indicate potential content warnings here as I would hate for people to be triggered: epilepsy is the big one, I myself have mild stutter based epilepsy and it didn't cause health problems or anything but my case is not universal. Anyway. That is a hard warning on epilepsy. I do it because The Incredibles 2 did not, lmao (that's an example of the kind of visuals that trigger me personally. An aside ) Other things include (spoilers): arachnophobia, misophonia (screeches, unsettling sounds), themes of death, immortality, suicide. Some game mechanics are not immediately intuitive and puzzles require some pretty clever but sometimes obtuse solutions. Direction is not always super clear either. People have complained of performance issues but I am leaving this review after playing the switch port, which played smoothly other than some awkwardly long loading times here and there. What I have played of PC so far runs smooth but as of writing, performance for me was fine (my pc is a lowend budget build). There is a difficulty to it. Even playing on easier modes, it can be quite unforgiving. If you're a fan of hard games (I am but I suck at them) and rhythm games (this is, uh, Not? That? Almost functions as half walking sim, half rhythm Game, dodgy shoot em up kinda feels. Truly unique gameplay I think. Constantly switches things up, too. But yes I also adore rhythm games, and yes i also do suck at those too.), half of it is that. The devs troll you with puzzles. It's truly a wild experience as it advertises, one of a kind. And yet, however.... This game wears, much like its heart,, its references, on its sleeve. If you are not into that kind of thing, you will probably be annoyed by this game. It also loves to delv into meta, as many puzzles and interactions are references to the UI of the game itself. Personally, I'm not wild about meta but I appreciate the ernestness here, so I'm willing to roll with whatever this game throws at me because every turn feels unexpected, fresh, funky, somber, and wildly intelligent, with boldly sincere ludonarrative choices, script and art direction. If you like Geno from super Mario Brothers, which, guess what, narrator here LOVES Geno from Super Mario Brothers, this is functionally the game you've always wanted that Nintendo could never make because Square has held Geno hostage in some kind of underground torture facility since 1995. Turns out they were rather right to do so, because when that puppet is out serving a higher authroity, he can be quite dangerous. Narrarively it borrows much from its sources but I would argue there's proof the writers have spent time thinking about the implications of their source materials worlds, and that reflection casts itself back to create this, experience that is wholly unique even if we know Red is Geno and "Gaster" (who was based on Uboa from Yume Nikki or princess mononokes forest spirits), and some kind of disco Marceline character who changes their identity frequently, skeleton brothers- well undead brothers, really - We have to remember in the creation and consumption of media sometimes, influences and archetypes are ever present and Everhood almost itself is a realm that would indulge in the idea of self referential material. It makes for this very Jungian experience of friendly archetypes we're familiar with, which works well with this setting of an immortal realm. Thats not to say the personalities we do meet aren't expounded upon - they are, heavily, and become uniquely their own. (Spoiler) if my theory is to be believed this world is a purgatory where people have made their own artificial vessels and as time has made them bored (though some seem to be having a good time) while typical strains of the Pinocchio myth are thrown in about questions of identity and death - and probably even more so towards Timothy Learys concept of the Ego Death, or the return to the collective soup of unconcious being. Undertale will probably always be a reccomendation even by its own reference to it so comparisons to it will be littered through here. It feels like the developers were emboldened by Toby Foxs spirit in game development (his creative energy is rather infectious) and shared many similar ideas, but this feels far more aimed towards a maturer audience (references to the things I mentioned in the trigger warning list) and focused on achieving this feeling that its predecesors have as well. Yume nikki. Lisa. Earthbound. Toby's games. super Mario rpg in its humor, Cat Soup in its psychedellic depressive vibes, all this cool indie cult classicy kinda mash up soup.  bizarre antics and then these characters who have surprising depth the further you go. It has been 6 years since Undertale came out, and the developers for Everhood have called a lot of the "what ifs" that fans of that game ask, an answer in their own game. (What if No Mercy was forced, for example? What if going against destiny is the wrong thing to do? Why is Death such a Bad Thing? etc!) And the further along you progress, the smarter the story gets, the more complex the narrative threads and characters. This game knows how to write compelling literature and that wasn't an element I expecting but god am I so glad for it. Literally my pea brain saw Red's design flipping around some frets on a streamers videocapture (shoutout to based fellow tampa native Charles White, thank you for being witty and having good taste and your Floridian comisery.) one night and went "oh i like." But the experience I got in exchange was, so, so much more than that (but the tetris effect won't let that image disappear from my eyelids quite yet haha.) I hear there are multiple endings and one requires a 3 hour long trek. I'm not done with the game at the time of reviewing. You bet your sweet ass I am going to find out the Ultimate Truth. I found a way to deal with some of the bullshit in other games, I may not be great at games but I want to see whatever imagery these guys put on screen so it compels me to seek out all the alternative routes. I am going to be following these developers projects very closely. If this is their debut, their next project will be ... ... I would hate to force expectations, like if you just made a magnum opus like this it'd be perfectly alright to retire, but I just once again want to say thank you to the developers for putting your heart on display for the world to see. I see it. I have dealt with struggles similar to the ones in the stories this game articulates about anxiety and depression, existentialism and dread, dissociation and all the heavy themes that were risky to include narratively - I'm certaintly glad you took the risks you did. May update this review as I get further along the story but yeah. Tl;dr: haha pinocchio myth done well make brain go brrr. 9.99999999999998/10. I am taking an infitisimal fraction of a point off because of the ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ spider in the monster maze. that thing was abhorrent, but I won't let it deter anyone else who wants to play.

[celestialmark]

A Poem Titled You - Mark Lee

- genre: heavy fluff, heavy feels - word count: 3.6K what how - warnings: none - author’s note: hey hey hey surprise! this drabble was inspired by taeyeon’s ost “a poem titled you” for hotel del luna omg it’s so beautiful her voice is amazing ;; anyways, I haven’t written anything long in centuries and I'm hoping this piece will spark inspiration for the current long fic that I'm working on. I hope you like it guys! it’s all over the place but ;~; biggest shoutout to ari @/suhdone for constantly motivating me ;; your support means a whole lot :( ily

If someone had asked you to describe Mark, you’d be at a loss for words. Because Mark embodied a lot of things, a lot of good things. And watching him now, as he walks over to you with light steps and a smile grazing his lips, convinces you that he is the very definition of good. And not in a sense that he’s good at everything he does, which could work too because Mark is crazy talented, but more of how he makes people feel around him. Though there weren’t really any proper words to pinpoint what kind of emotions he elicits at this exact moment he’s approaching you with an unwavering smile and shining eyes, all you know is that it doesn’t compare to anything else.

“Hey sweet,” he speaks, gentleness and warmth coating his words. “I’m sorry you had to wait for me, shall we go?”

It’s the little things with Mark. He’s walking on the side of the path closest to the road, having held you by the shoulders earlier to shift you away from zooming vehicles before your trek to volunteer work. Today shouldn’t be any different than the previous days just gone because Mark is still blabbering about random happenings of his day like he usually does and with you walking beside him listening intently to all the words that doesn’t make sense. But today is different. It feels different. Because you can’t focus on Mark’s stories no matter how hard you try, unconsciously getting lost mid-sentence because your eyes linger on his face too long. You trip on your foot at some point because of it and it jolts you back to your reality.

Mark’s reflexes grasp your arm before you meet the ground and you hate the way his touch sets your skin on fire despite the layers of clothing that separate his fingers from your skin.

“Careful,” he says as he steadies you. He looks down with a tilt of his head and before you know it, he’s already crouched down to the ground. You feel him tugging at your laces that you didn’t know had come undone. “Clumsy,” you hear him chuckle from below, the sweet sound getting lost in the wind that rushes past.

Mark’s heart shines through even more when he volunteers, greeting elders with a blinding smile as he hands them trays of food. The little conversations he holds with elders about four times his age highlights the sincerity of his heart and you can see that visiting and helping them bring him so much joy as much as he makes them happy. It’s a heartwarming sight to witness and you can’t help but smile to yourself while you do your share of the work.

“Handsome,” and “kind,” and “filial,” are the words Mark’s associated with in this house for the elderly. And what makes him even more endearing is that he struggles to accept the compliments thrown his way, only responding with a bashful smile and the occasional shake of his head to disagree with what he’s described as.

You catch yourself sighing as you watch him from afar. Mark was so much more than what he thought of himself and you’d wish he knew that.

On the way home, when the sun slowly sinks behind the mountains beyond the towering buildings and when the temperatures drop slightly to cater for a chilly night, Mark is the first to speak again as soon as he’s finished zipping up your coat to ensure your warmth.

“You haven’t spoken all day,” he says casually, eyes ahead on the path. “Everything okay?”

You don’t realise the truth to his words until you reflect on the day, and true enough, you really hadn’t spoke to him all day even though you’ve spent the whole day together.

“O-oh,” you say, your voice hoarse you have to take a moment to clear your throat. “Sorry, I didn’t even realise.”

“Y/n, if this has something to do with me saying I like you the other day, please don’t,” Mark says, halting in his tracks right in front of you, which causes you to stop too. “I meant what I said but if it’s something that makes you feel uncomfortable with me, then please forget what I said.”

How much Mark has grown is evident in how straightforward he’s suddenly become. At first you didn’t even notice it, having spent almost your entire life with him, but as time passed and as the harsh realities of life gradually came to challenge you both, the realisation of how mature he’s become became clearer in the decisions he’s had to make and in how he’s had to deal with certain situations he didn’t expect he’d find himself in. It became even clearer when he confronted his feelings face front, with no hesitation the moment he was sure about what he felt. And it just so happened that you were the one to trigger the first confession he’s ever made in his whole life ever. He stuttered a lot, yet it was the most perfect for you because it came from Mark and it came with nothing but genuity. After all, Mark always did and said everything with sincerity.

“Mark, my hands are cold,” you blurt out in the midst of trying to look for a reply to what he had just said.

And Mark doesn’t hesitate. Not even for a second as he holds your hands in his, raises them both and breathes onto them. He procees to rub his palms on the back of your hands then, doing all that he could to warm you. And you just watch in silence, in utter admiration and in pure awe of his existence alone. Mark always did this, on other days, without even asking him to do so. But with the recent revelation of how he felt for you, it’s been a constant challenge with yourself to dig deep and notice the small things about yourself you didn’t even pick up before.

Mark does something different today. Instead of letting go of your hand, he tucks it inside the pocket of his coat, still with his hand enveloping yours. He looks at you wearily after his gesture, a concerned glint in his eyes, “Is this okay?”

You want to tell him it’s perfect. But you settle with a nod of your head.

Later in the week, in the late hours of the evening, you find Mark just outside your work place when you come down after an exhausting day. He’s standing outside, just beside the entrance, eyes trained ahead at the cars passing along the road.

“Mark?”

With his name being called, he snaps his head to your direction and an instant smile lifts on his face. “Hi sweet.”

“What brings you here?”

That’s when you notice the umbrella he’s holding above his head as he shows you another one in his other hand. “It’s raining. And I figured you didn’t bring an umbrella.”

When you glance outwards, the rain you hadn’t noticed from earlier, is lashing down mercilessly. You try to recall your brain for the forecast you were sure you checked before leaving your home early this morning but find no recollection of any impending rain.

Thank the heavens for Mark though.

Taking a step closer to you, he tucks your umbrella under his arm so that he can zip your coat up fully as you watch in silence. “Ready?” he asks with another smile, proceeding to open your umbrella for you before handing it over. You take it from him with a nod and a small smile playing on your lips, mirroring his, as he begins to lean the way home.

You lose yourself in conversations with Mark, talking about all sorts of things, from sharing stories about one’s day like you always do, and plans for the upcoming weekend. Mark announces he’s staying in to entertain his notes for an upcoming exam he’s dreading while you offer to accompany him, not having anything better to do to which he expresses his gratitude to you for with a smile too wide that reaches his eyes and highlights his cheekbones.

You grab the sleeve of Mark’s coat when a food cart catches your eye by the sidewalk. He looks over to you before glancing at the vendor making fresh warm crepes. You turn to him with excitement, the long day at work reminding you of the fact that you haven’t eaten all day. “Let’s share one?” You suggest and it earns an approving nod from Mark.

“Can we have one chocolate crepe please,” Mark kindly asks the vendor to which he begins making straight away. You watch the process carefully, without batting an eyelash, growing all too fascinated at the precise motions of the man. Mark on the other hand, watches you instead and oblivious to you, his eyes literally sparkle under the fluorescent lights of the cart, the sight of you in a state of happiness making him happy in return.

Mark pays for the crepe as you receive the dessert from the vendor who hands it to you with a grateful smile. You turn to face Mark just as you lift the crepe to your mouth to take your first bite, when his cold fingertips comes in contact with your wrists, stopping you. You look up at him curiously and he only smiles at you.

“It’s too hot,” Mark points out, eyes trained on the steam stemming from the crepe. He then takes it from you and starts to blow on it in attempts of cooling down the dessert slightly. Now it’s your turn to stare at him and realise that it’s always, always, without a doubt, the little things about Mark that leave you speechless.

“Here,” Mark says handing it back to you but you’re too perplexed to react so he gestures it to you again before you finally recover from your trance. You try to hide your fluster by eating but it doesn’t help that Mark is continuously gazing at every little thing you do and it doesn’t make the situation better either when he extends his hand to swipe small strands of hair that’s threatening to fall on your face. You finally have some time to breathe when he turns away from you, his attention shifting to the vendor as he requests for a bottle of water.

You barely leave any crepe for Mark, having been too distracted at the increase of your heartbeat that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Mark twists the bottle cap open before offering the water to you, taking the crepe from you in exchange.

“Slow down sweet, you’re going to choke,” he chuckles, noticing your cheeks inflated with food. Mark begins to eat shortly while you recompose yourself, silently grateful that Mark wasn’t the type to pick up on the sudden changes in your behaviour.

The heavens continue its downpours even after your short stopover for food. Your shoes are getting soaked on the trek home from having stepped on a puddle you didn’t see. Mark laughed as you glared at him with a huff, bringing his index finger to press the space between your eyebrows to erase your frown. To make matters worse, your umbrella decides to leave you exposed to the heavy droplets when a strong gust of wind blows past you, completely destroying your shelter.

“Wow could this day get any worse,” you mumble, getting beaten down by the rain momentarily before Mark pulls you close under the safety of his umbrella. His arm is firm around your shoulder and there’s a moment where you two fall silent, hearts both racing at the proximity of your bodies. Mark is staring down at you, a soft expression on his face as he searches yours. You’re blinking rapidly, his chest too close to you and his scent lingering in your nostrils; delicate yet intoxicating.

“Is this okay?” He wonders aloud in a small voice.

You bring yourself to peek up at him, your eyes unsure in contrast to the hammering of your chest. “It’s okay,” you utter. You want to tell him that you don’t mind, that you never mind if it’s him, but you think that telling him it’s alright is enough for him tonight because another gentle smile etches onto his features, one that doesn’t quite disappear and lasts the entire night.

The heavy rain stretches on until the weekend. Just as promised, you accompany Mark during his study. You try to remember the exact reason why you’ve kindly offered to stay with him for the day, but you’re secretly thankful because you get to bask in his alluring presence in his own home. Mark, in a cozy black turtleneck is seated across you on the dining table, his eyes hiding behind his glasses he wore every now and then, focused on what you guess to be notes on the screen of his laptop. You’re reading a book in silence, letting Mark’s occasional mumbles to himself fill the room along with the dulcet echoes of your pages being turned from one to another under your fingertips.

It isn’t until two hours of staying rooted in your seats that the screeching of Mark’s chair breaks the silence. When you look up, you discover he’s already stood up to leave for somewhere, towards the direction of the kitchen. You examine his space opposite you and see the paper sprawled around everywhere with numerous pens stacked on top. You’re about to reach for one that catches your eye when Mark reappears from the doorway, white ceramic mugs in either of his hands. He places one in front of you, the aroma of your favourite green tea filling your senses.

“Thanks,” you say with a smile that you hope reflects your gratitude for the small yet sweet gesture.

Unknown to you, your mere but mesmeric smile pushes his pent up affection further on edge, so much so, that if he continued to study every little thing he wants to remember about your face, he’d literally spill everything he’s been dying to say to you. So he clears his throat and looks away, taking his seat once again and taking a sip of his boiling coffee too quick. He begins to cough and hiss uncontrollably, an aftermath of his haste actions.

You quickly hand him a napkin, rising from your seat in the process, your brows knitted together in the middle. “Hey, careful,” you say even though it’s too late as he takes the napkin from you.

With a stretch of your arm, you take his mug in your hands. When you settle again on your chair, you start blowing on his beverage, images of Mark at the crepe cart flashing before your own eyes, prompting you to do the same. From the corner of your eye, you can see Mark watching you silently and you slowly begin to understand how it feels to be in his place this time; to be the one on the giving end. And it feels good. It feels warm. It feels nice. It feels even better because it’s from you to Mark.

Once you’re done, you set the mug back in its initial place and discover Mark still staring, his eyes as big and as wide as ever. And you smile and promise yourself to keep giving because the bashful smile that creeps on Mark’s face is too adorable not to witness again.

In the late hours of the night, you fall asleep on Mark’s couch accidentally, while waiting for him to finish his study. The television playing lowly in the background has lulled you into sleep you didn’t know you were in need of, the thought of Mark being the last thing on your mind before finally surrendering to slumber. Mark enters the living room some time after to find you sleeping soundly and makes great efforts to minimise as much noise as he can so as to not disturb you. He crouches down in front of you and he swears that if you could see him right now gazing at you the way he is now, you’d literally see hearts in his eyes. You looked so peaceful in your sleep, your perfect features at its calmest state and Mark feels himself falling further and amazes at himself at that fact because here you were, still as ever and not doing anything, yet causing him the greatest stress.

Mark shuts the television off and carries you in his arms. You stir in your sleep to circle your arms around his neck and to find a comfortable spot on his chest for your head to lead on and Mark stands completely still as you do all that. He’d expected his heart to hammer against his chest because that’s the kind of effect you usually had on him, but to his great surprise, he feels as calm as ever and he thinks that it’s because you fit so right in his arms. After taking one last glimpse at your sleeping figure and swearing to himself to protect you all his life, he proceeds to make his way to his bedroom, right where he can lay you on his bed to ensure your utmost comfort.

Some hours after midnight, you awake under the warmth of the duvet, the darkness greeting you in the haze of your vision as you try to decipher where you are. From the way the moon peeks through the window, shining on familiar furniture on the other side of the room, you figure you’re in Mark’s room. And you find the said person on the floor beside his bed, sleeping soundly on top of a blanket that’s too thin to shield him from the cold floor.

“Mark,” you call out from the edge of his bed. He doesn’t move until your third call and when you finally get a response, “Come sleep beside me.”

“Hm?” is the only reply from Mark through closed lids. You come to a conclusion he’s too sleepy to even understand your words so you reach for his arm and tug at it. “Sleep up here, it’s cold down there,” you repeat.

Mark complies after you tug at his arm some more, finally lying on the bed beside you but doesn’t realise the consequence of his actions until he opens his eyes to find you right in front of him. In any other situation, he would have scurried away in a rush to calm himself from being too close. But the way you’re gazing at him with gentle eyes convinces him it’s okay to stay and as he continues to gaze back, he finds new courage to move even closer to you, minimising the gap between the two of you even more. Mark closes his eyes and leans his forehead forward until it rests on yours.

“Is this okay?” he whispers quietly.

It’s your turn to study his features this time and come to a conclusion that this man may be the most beautiful one to ever exist. The fascination that stirs within you urges you to bring your hand to caress his ethereal face. Running a thumb on his cheek, you begin to wonder what great thing you must have done in your past life to have someone like Mark, and better yet, a Mark who likes you, a gentle and sweet Mark who’s careful about the boundaries he’s set for himself.

“It’s okay,” you whisper back, tracing the outline of his face with your forefinger. “It’s perfect.”

Mark raises a hand to wrap around your wrist and leans his face completely into your touch, marvelling at how surreal it feels to be receiving your affection. You smile at his actions, the sight melting your heart, silently wishing you’d shown him sooner how he really made you feel. So you decide to show him from now on.

“Mark,” you whisper again, grabbing his attention as he opens his eyes. You’re sure you’d feel nervous for what you’re about to do but meeting Mark’s eyes now only prove reassurance and provide you with the last bit of courage you needed.

You lean your face forward, closer to his, closing the gap between your bodies by an inch, “Is this okay?” you ask, your eyes trained on his to look for some kind of response. But Mark doesn’t answer because he’s too stunned. And you don’t wait for a response because there’s too much to say but too little time to find words that are fitting. So you let your actions speak instead.

Leaning in closer, feeling his nose tap yours, you ask again, “Is this okay?” And again no response. You proceed with your motions, closing your eyes in the process, your lips a mere centimetre away from his you can literally feel it. “I hope this is okay,” you whisper before letting your lips collide with his.

Mark grasps the situation a second too late but when he does come to his senses, he responds by pulling your body closer before grazing your jaw in his hand. He kisses you slow, an indirect metaphor of how time slows when you’re with him yet full of love and affection, everything he’s been unable to show. You feel his heartbeat under your fingers and it pushes you to deliver everything you need and want to say to him, that everything was okay as long as it was with him, that everything will be okay as long as he’s beside you. And that from tonight onwards, it’ll only consist of you showing him how incredible it feels to be loved by him because you know your words will never do it justice.

Mark is smiling when you pull away, understanding and accepting you wordless messages and declarations. And you smile back, finding the twinkle in his eyes to be too beautiful, your smile speaking for you. The rain continues to tap away at his windowpane but all you could focus on is the glint in his eyes that screams nothing but admiration for you. Wrapping is arms around you wholely, he whispers,

“That was perfect.”

[pratigyakrishnaki]

The Yadava Curse

A/N: Before reading this I feel the need to warn you that this ends sadly. Also, it’s my first time making a header/moodboard, go easy on me! Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25838302

Hindu Mytho Event: Day 2 Canon Divergence & Day 3 Female Characters

In hindsight, Rukmini convinced herself that it was better that her son be the one to cause the strife. Pradyumna grew up too quickly, always wanting to be at his father’s side, ready to fight or reason regardless of whether two states were at war or two brothers fighting over the last mango. Rukmini spent any free time she had worrying about her son who never played pranks, never caused her any worry. He, luckily, hadn’t inherited that from his father. He showed too much of an interest in her work even at a tender age, though, she reckoned, that was partially her fault. She had sat in the Dwarka Yadava council right up until she gave birth, and even after, nursing him while court was in session, much to the chagrin of all the elders. (What could they say? Chief wife of Narayan Shri Krishna, Lakshmi on Earth? She held the power. Pradyumna would stay.)

So when Samba, he, of course, would be the troublemaker of all the Yadava kids, took him to the lower city to “rakhad,” she was more than overjoyed, though she wouldn’t show it. She had a reputation to maintain.

She could remember it vividly, Samba running up to her, Pradyumna in tow, “Can we go into the lower city Badi maa?”

“Kyun?”

“Bas aise! Rakhad ne ke liye!”

She hadn’t thought anything of it, “Of course beta! Take the guards with you!”

But what Samba had proposed next had been a surprise, “Nahi Badimaa! Not with guards! In disguise!”

Rukmini had glanced up sharply, ready to turn that idea down but Samba cut her off, “Pitaji used to go! He still tries to go, but everyone recognizes his Gopala disguise...”

She hid a smile; the younger boy was right, and more observant than she was aware. Krishna tended to step out from time to time, disguised in a getup from his childhood days. Both Pradyumna and Samba, though, had taken after their mothers in looks, not her husband; they would be unnoticed.

“Accha fine, but be careful!” With a quick smile and a rushed hug, Samba had run off, tugging Pradyumna along, her next words falling on deaf ears, “And no disturbing the rushis near the temple grounds!”

Rukmini had warned them. She had. Regardless of what the other raanis had said, she had warned the sons. But the curse was set. She never heard the full story, all she knew was: Pradyumna dressed as a pregnant woman, Samba’s mace under his angavastram, and a prank that went very wrong. She had seen her son after, face ashen and eyes red from crying. She had hugged him and comforted him as he clutched her like a newborn baby. She had heard him choke out that it was his fault that he had play acted, his fault that the sages were angered at his prank, and his fault that their family was doomed to death. She had held him tightly, wiping his tears, shushing him until he stopped sniffling. Samba and Jambavati had joined them in her chambers, the three of them worrying and crying, while she comforted and quieted them until her husband came back.

When Krishna came home, Pradyumna, though almost 18, had rushed into his father’s embrace, sobbing openly, soaking the Pitambar in tears. Krishna had just laughed, sitting him down. “Beta, wipe your tears. What happened, has happened. Why worry about something you no longer have control over?”

And that had been that. He was Narayan, and she was Lakshmi, but even they had no sway on destiny, no one did.

On the orders of the council, the mace had been ground up into ashes and thrown into the ocean, the clothes burned, the incident forgotten. But Rukmini never forgot. It wasn’t in her nature. She remembered everything for years and years, and waited calmly until the day that Krishna left one last time, the day of the family picnic. He had held her tightly, too tightly. He had kissed her deeply, too deeply. He had whispered the words, “I’ll see you in Vaikunta.” And then he had left, never to be seen by her in those eyes again. With a sinking feeling, she had gotten ready for the picnic, ready for her death.

She remembered it all, the merriment among the Yadava clan, the plentiful food, the joyful music and especially the overflowing wine. She remembered how a provoking word had been said by someone unimportant, and she remembered how the wine turned family against family, their own civil war. She remembered watching as the rest of the Ashtabharya also took up arms, Satyabhama in her element, fiery sword slashing this way and that. She remembered walking away from the carnage to her own chariot. She would not die this way.

She had caught the reins herself, urging the horses forward as she ruminated in her thoughts. Yes. It was a good thing that Pradyumna at least lived and pranked once, even though it was disastrous. Yes. It was good that he had been free if only for a moment. She would miss him; her son, another form of Narayana.

She made her way to the cliff she had decided would be her final step on Earth. It was far enough away that she could not see the bloodshed, but close enough to hear it. She had delayed it as long as she could, taking in her surroundings. She had let her horses go, the creatures could not be bound to a chariot for long, and then she was truly alone.

The sea, her father in another lifetime, was dark, reflecting the sky above. How quickly the skies had turned cloudy and dark. Not hours ago they had painted a different picture entirely. She felt a deep sadness, loneliness, she truly would die alone in this life. And then she remembered something Krishna had told her. Mata Yashoda had said that her Shyam would never leave her as long as the skies still turned dark. Rukmini looked up once more, at the skies and thought of her Shyam, her Krishna, her Narayan. She walked up, right to the edge of the cliff, eyes not leaving the sky, finding Shyam in every last shadow and movement of the clouds. She saw his arms reach out to her, beckoning her forward into the clouds. And then, still looking up, still thinking of her Krishna, she took the last step off the cliff, plunging into the depths below.

As she fell, she thought not of Pradyumna, Samba and the rest of her family, dying and decaying on the beach nearby. She thought not of the circumstances that lead her here, the mace, the prank, destiny’s revenge. She thought only of her Shyam, her Krishna. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In the same way, she would return, the Lakshmi to her Narayan, reunited once again.

A/N (again): This is for the @hindumythologyevent! I wanted to take part in day 1, but my modern au just isn’t up to par yet! I’ll try to keep up with as many events as possible, keeping in mind that it is Shyam’s birthday in one/two days so I will be writing for him and also that I write like a snail on here! Anyways, I ramble! Let me know what you think! 

Tagging some mutuals and fellow desiblrs I love: @lovingyou-is (Special shoutout to you, K, for helping me make my header/moodboard!) @incurablescribbler @soniaoutloud @chaanv @1nsaankahanhai-bkr @allegoriesinmediasres @mayavanavihariniharini​ @heyifinallyhaveablog​ @worddiva179 @supermeh-krishnafan @bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams @ariouseok @iamnotthat @shaonharryandpannisim @will-die-without-chai​ @sthitivinasha​ @jeyaam​ @dilkishehnaai​ (A, I know you aren't really into the mytho side of desiblr, but I love you, so enjoy!)

[doing-all-write]

don’t be a baby

Pairing: Billy x Reader

Summary: Reader is a nurse who’s brother falls into the Sky Walker crowd. After he gets injured, Billy takes it upon himself to look after Reader’s brother and calm Reader’s nerves as they get ready for their next job. But when the job goes awry and Reader can’t keep Billy safe, how does she cope? 

Word Count: 11K

Warnings: Smut (only 18+ interact please!), swearing, blood and softness bc we love two idiots pining over each other but refusing to acknowledge their feelings for each other!!

A/N: I wrote this in a caffeine fueled burst of inspiration after talking to @mrhoemazzello​ about how much of a baby Billy would be when he gets injured and you have to patch him up and it made me so soft and shoutout to @itsabenthing​ for helping me flesh out this idea and for always being such a great cheerleader 💖but this bad boy is DEFINITELY going to be a two parter so keep an eye out part two coming soon!

Also the first part of this story takes place before the events of 6Underground and the job they’re planning and go on is the one in the movie just to give everyone some context. 

💖💖As always likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💖💖

There was a thump at the window. 

She ignored it. It was close to midnight and the idea that someone could be knocking on her (three stories high) window at this time seemed ludicrous. She groaned, shifting in the chair she had curled up in hours ago, reaching out for the sweet release of unconsciousness to claim her before her anxiety kept her up.

She knew Billy was most likely gone. She didn't want to admit it to herself but the relentless loop in her head was a broken record of he's gone he's gone he's gone he's gone.

There was still a part of her that hoped Billy had gotten away unscathed. She had seen him in action, she knew what he was capable of and she sent out a wish that Billy would come running into her apartment like the day he came running into the hospital. 

~~~

She had been working in the Emergency Room, taking over a fellow nurses night rotations in exchange for a few extra days off, when a man had limped in, blue eyes frantic, blonde hair damp and smashed to his forehead, carrying what looked like a dummy in a hoodie, both of them covered in dried blood.

She raced around the desk to them, looping the arm of the prone man around her shoulders as she helped steer them to the nearest room. The blonde kept babbling on about how the man between them had hurt himself while they wrestled the man into a bed. Once the unconscious man was laying down, she pulled back the hood obscuring his face and felt her soul leave her body.

Her brother's face was the one staring back at her.

Now is not the time. Pull it together. You know what to do. Her Nurse Brain kicked in and she shoved the blonde to the side as she hastily started taking care of her brother. Once he had been stabilized and diagnosed with nothing more than a nasty bump on the head, a broken ankle and a badly bloodied nose, she had shoved the shadow who had been following her around into the hallway, crowding him into the supply closet and demanding answers. 

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Oh, careful there, love. You keep talking dirty to me like that and I'll fall in love with you."

"Why the fuck were you with my brother?" 

"Taking him out on a date because he spoke to me with the same dirty mouth you both share apparently." 

He was obstinate, shifting between smart ass answers and flirting as she tried to get any scrap of information from him. She finally hit her limit and spat out, "He's my fucking brother and if you don't tell me what happened, I'll assume it was you and have you thrown in jail. I don't give a fuck about you," She had jabbed a finger into his chest and he winced, "but I do give a fuck about my family." 

Her Nurse Brain activated again when she saw him wince. Eyes zipping over him, assessing, she took in his bloodied face and hands. "Unzip your hoodie."

"Interesting. I'd always heard that angry sex was the best. Can't believe I'm gonna find out if that's true in this supply closet."

Rolling her eyes, she'd batted his hands away as he tried to prevent her from unzipping his hoodie. Fixing him with her if you don't let me do my fucking job I'll kill you and make it look like an accident stare, he had held his hands up in surrender. 

Metallic ticks were the only noise as she pulled the zipper down, revealing the red tank top underneath. 

"Wait, was this originally white?" 

A huff of breath was the only answer she received before she pulled him back into the room with her brother, patching him up while she kept up a running commentary of grumbling about how he had endangered not only her own brother but also himself.

"I mean, what kind of stupid, reckless, idiot would do something like that! Jesus, you see one too many Marvel movies and think, 'hmm, that looks easy. I can do that too!' I mean honestly."

Her monologue was interrupted by the feel of a rough palm grasping her forearm. It seemed like trying to get the next words out were more painful than sustaining the injuries he had already taken that night, "I was protecting him. He works with our crew well and I told him not to come with us but he insisted. Said he needed these jobs so he could help his little sister pay off her student loans." 

That had shut her up. 

~~~

He didn't remember falling asleep but he stirred as he felt his arm being moved.

"It's okay, it's just me." 

"I'm sorry, I don't know a 'me'. I only know the hard ass nurse who I had incredible sexual chemistry with." He heard her huff out a breath, could almost hear her eyes rolling as well. Her fingers were gentle as she made sure the IV drip in his arm was still firmly in place. She saw his lips quirk and rolled her eyes, again, "Go back to sleep. I like you more when you're unconscious."

"Great bedside manner you have there, sweetheart. You got a name?" 

There was silence, then, "It's (Y/N)."

He sighed, "Well, (Y/N), it's nice to meet you. I'm Billy, and that guy in the opposite bed? That's Mark. Though I'm assuming you two already know each other since you're related and all."

"If you weren't in a hospital bed, I'd smack you."

"There's that bedside manner that keeps the patients coming back."

~~~

Billy didn't remember when he drifted off again but when he came to, the light on the other side of his eyelids was the dull yellow of the beginning rays of sunlight welcoming another morning. Eyelids fluttering open, Billy had seen her, curled up in a hospital chair right by Mark's bed, hand cupping her brother's as their chests rose and fell in tandem. Feeling like he was encroaching on a private moment, he closed his eyes again, praying that the tear he felt running down his cheek would dry before either of them would wake up. 

~~~

"Hey. (Y/N). Wake up. C'mon. I've got him from here, go home and shower. Grab some food." 

Her eyelids flickered open and a groan came flying out of her mouth as she slowly started rolling her neck around. As she did so, she couldn't help her eyes from straying to the bed across the room. But it was empty. 

~~~

Her brother had been discharged the next day and she'd been keeping a close eye on him since. A few days later, she kicked open the door of his apartment, yelling out a greeting as she tried to balance the two large tote bags of food, games and movies she had brought over to help keep him entertained and fed as he healed up.

"I know you're a purist when it comes to Star Trek but I brought over the reboots because one, Chris Pine is very easy on the eyes and two, Star Trek is Star Trek I mean, as long as someone says 'live long and prosper' you're good, right?"

Her voice trailed off as she padded into his living room only to be met with four pairs of eyes staring back at her. Everyone, including her brother, was wearing black athletic clothes making them look a bit like a goth gymnastics team, she felt like a toddler amongst them in her over-sized sweater and leggings.

Her eyes sought out her brother's in hopes he would explain. Mark's eyes pleaded with her to be understanding and it wasn't until she heard someone clear their throat that she realized she recognized the blue eyes staring back at her,

"I'll, uh, I'll just come help you unpack those bags. Okay, love?" The steel cutting along the edge of his words gave her no time to argue as she felt Billy's large hand pressing into her lower back as he shoved her into the kitchen. 

Tripping over her feet, she flung the Star Trek DVD back onto the counter as she rounded on Billy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" the words were pulverized through her clenched teeth. Her hands curled into fists to prevent them from shaking. She was terrified that these people were back in her brother's life, and only a few days after he had left the hospital because of their recklessness.  

"It's so lovely to see you too! I missed you and your warm bedside manner so much darling." He snarled back as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Now is not the time. Last time you showed up in my life you almost got my brother killed. You better explain yourself now or I'm grabbing the broom and beating everyone in that room out the door and then breaking the broom over your head personally."

Blue eyes widened till she could see the whites all the way around them, "How are you allowed to take care of people? You should be locked up by the pigs not me." He swiveled around, grabbing a beer from the fridge and popping the top off by putting the lid of the bottle against the rim of the counter and hitting it with the heel of his hand. 

Peering out of the corner of his eye he saw her eyes widen, a flush building in her cheeks. She hated how that simple action had sent a flash of warmth through her. 

Smirking, he turned back to her, bringing the bottle to his lips, taking a long sip as she shook herself from thinking about what other things Billy could do with his hands. 

So maybe she had noticed how handsome he was after he had fallen asleep in the hospital. She was only human. 

"While I'm so glad you're enjoying my brothers hospitality, maybe you could dignify me with an answer?" She knew the sarcasm dripping from every word was poisonous but she couldn't help herself. Just because she had seen dried tear tracks on Billy's face when she had woken up to check on him in the cool dawn morning and, alright, maybe she had checked the medical records in the hospital for information on him ("It's like Facebook stalking!" her voice rising as she quickly tried to close his records after her co-worker called her out on it.) and maybe her heart had twisted in on itself when she woke up the next morning and he was gone and maybe she had spent a few thousand hours thinking about him and wondering if she would ever see him again didn't mean she wanted him in her life. 

Right? 

Sighing, Billy leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as the bottle dangled between two long fingers, "We're planning another job and we asked your brother to do surveillance. All he'll be doing is sitting on that couch," he closed one eye, pointing towards the sofa Mark was currently residing at, "watching security cameras and making sure none of us get caught and warning us of any potential baddies around the corner. It's easy, it's harmless and you could even be sitting next to him babysitting if you're really that concerned about my safety."

Rolling her eyes, she stepped forward to start unpacking the bags, needing something to do with her hands and eyes. Looking right at Billy was like staring at the sun. She feared looking at him for too long would result in permanent damage from his eyes boring into hers, or that the fluttering in her stomach would get stronger the more she talked to him.  

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't seen the group Billy ran with around the city. Walking along, earbuds in, minding her own business, she'd hear a thud, look up and instead of squirrels scampering along the telephone wires, it would be people. Executing flips, yelling, jeering, she'd watch in awe while Nurse Brain would be calculating what kind of injuries they'd sustain and how bad said injuries would be if they fell, but they never did. 

They looked more comfortable walking in the sky than on the ground. They were flying. Confident. So sure that there would be something there to catch them. She had started calling them "Sky Walkers."

Every time she saw them from then on, she always had an ache in her heart for the rest of the day. She craved the security and confidence they had. She'd looked down at her feet encased in Nike's, cursing them for staying ground to the tiled floor of the hospital. 

"All I know is, last time my brother got mixed up with you guys, he showed up at my hospital, bloody and unconscious." Her shoulders hunched forward as anger drained from her body thinking about how frightened she had been. "Can you blame me for being scared?" 

This last sentence was almost missed by Billy. But seeing her look so defeated, Billy's heartstrings tugged. Mark talked about his sister a lot. It was clear they took care of each other. He had always wondered what it would have been like to have that consistency.

Placing Tupperware on the kitchen table, the silence stretched out as Billy sized her up. Finally, her eyes rose, meeting his underneath the harsh fluorescent light. The eyes staring into hers were calculating but not cold. They weren't the eyes of a doctor, sizing up a patient and only seeing a maze of veins, arteries and organs that with the right snip or stitch could be fixed. His was a gaze that peeled back the layers of skin and bone, seeing right into the most vulnerable parts of yourself. 

"You've noticed that your loans are almost entirely paid off. Haven't you." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Billy had been the one to walk Mark through the steps to help pay off her loans without it being suspicious. He had heard her on the other end of the line when she called to tell Mark how much her loans had gone down. The voice on the other end high-pitched, tinny, but the love between them so palpable he had to leave the room. 

Her eyes darted down as she busied herself carrying Tupperware over to the fridge, her hair a curtain over her profile as she leaned down to place it in the fridge. "He loves you, you know. A lot. That's the only reason he took the gig." He took a sip of beer, watching her frame, way too still to not be listening, peering into the fridge but not seeing anything. "He's friends with Jean, the mastermind, out there and when he complained about how unfair it was of you to have so many loans, Jean offered him a cut of the benefits if he helped us with the job." 

She didn't feel the coolness of the fridge air wafting over her, she felt nothing but enormous guilt. She was the reason he had been injured. That he was mixed up in this crowd. She was the reason he was putting himself in harms way and if he died? It would be all her fault. 

Billy, chuckled to himself as she was gripped in the throes of an existential crisis, "Jean's a good guy but I think he mainly knew having a nurse in our good graces would be immeasurably helpful."

His eyes widened as she turned to face him, flecks of mascara caught in the tears moving down her face but she didn't seem to notice them streaking down. It seemed like she barely noticed him, "You have to keep an eye on him. Please. If anything happens to him-because of me-I-I don't..." her voice trailed off.

Billy crouched down, cupping her shoulders as he pressed his forehead into hers, "Hey. Hey, love. Love? Look at me, focus on my voice, okay?" He pulled back so he could look into both of her eyes. With enormous effort she pulled herself back to this moment, in her brothers kitchen, crouched on the floor with a Sky Walker. "I'll keep an eye on him. He's one of us now. We look after our own, got it? We always do." She nodded, searching his eyes for any sign of lying but there was none. Just warm, blue skies, promising her that from then on out, everything would be fine. 

~

After their rendezvous in the kitchen, Billy had gone back to the living room to plan while she had splashed cold water on her face and pulled herself together. By the time she slunk out of the kitchen, arms wrapped around herself, everyone was leaving and Billy had his arm around a brunette girl who reeked of sexual experience and danger. 

She was pretty sure she reeked of "Christmas Cookie" hand sanitizer and sexual frustration. 

Billy caught her eye as he strolled out of the room, winking at her as he walked past. 

Her heart caught in her throat at the action but remembered how his girlfriend was someone who flew through the air with enormous ease and she was someone who was locked on the ground. 

~

Patching her brother up came easy to her. She wished it had been the first time she had fixed him up but that would be a lie. She went over to his apartment a few times a week. Sometimes the other Sky Walker's would be there, sometimes not. Most of the time if they were over, they spent their time planning the next big heist. Maps and blueprints covered every available surface and surveillance footage became a comforting background noise as she would prep dinner or check Mark's ankle and help him do physical therapy.

Sometimes it would just be Jean hanging out, playing video games with Mark. The first dinner he joined them for, she found she could barely look at him. The resentment towards him still a solid rock in her stomach. 

A few meals later, Jean gently tugged her into the living room after she had gotten Mark set up in bed, "Alright. I know why you won't look at me. Let me have it."

He had sat on the couch for over an hour, hands folded in his lap, nodding as she ripped him a new one, getting out all of her fear and anger. Once she had run out of steam and was standing in front of him, he had taken her hands in his, making the same promise Billy had. That Mark was one of their own now. He would do everything he could to take care of him. The eyes peering back up at her were full of nothing but sincerity.

Glancing down, she sniffled, peering at their hands intertwined, "You have questionable tattoos." Jean barked out a laugh, "You think mine are bad? You should see some of Billy's."  

From then on, she looked forward to having the Sky Walker's around. Whenever she entered Mark's apartment in the weeks leading up to the mission, her heart would speed up in anticipation.

Sometimes it would come crashing to the ground when she saw no sign of Billy. Other times, she was positive individuals could see her heart beating through her shirt when her eyes caught his from across the room. 

The only downer was, if Billy was there, that usually meant his girlfriend, Cassandra, was there as well. 

She had tried, a valiant effort in her opinion, to make nice with her. Most of the time, they were the only girls around. Working to find common ground with Cassandra was proving to be a difficult task, mainly because Cassandra would fix her with a blank stare until she slunk back into the kitchen to restock Mark's fridge.  

The last straw for her had been when she had walked into Mark's apartment, yelling hello only to look up and see Cassandra fixing her with a blank stare and sharpening a knife

She quickly found that anyone who carried their own knife sharpening kit was someone she didn't particularly trust. It made her nervous then, that Billy did so much. 

But she didn't want to interfere. She didn't want to think about all the lethal ways Cassandra could injure her with that blade if she found out she had meddled in her relationship.

When Billy was there, she could hardly stop the grin that threatened to split her face as she busied herself in the kitchen making food for everyone, jumping every time someone came into the kitchen, waiting for Billy to come in under the guise of getting a beverage but always stopping to chat with her. 

Those stolen minutes in the kitchen with Billy were quickly becoming her favorite times. 

She hadn't meant to develop a crush on Billy, but, how could she not? Other than the physical reasons, (she had once seen him take his shirt off to try on a new one and she almost dropped a whole bowl of soup into Mark's lap) he was genuine. Ever since he had looked into her eyes and promised to take care of her brother, he had kept that promise. 

When plans would change, he'd come into the kitchen and update her. He'd tell her all the different contingency plans they had. And while she knew her brother wasn't going on this mission, she still felt a sense of peace wash over her as he walked her through the plan. 

There was one night she asked him, "How did you even get into the Sky Walker stuff?" Coughing on the sip of beer he'd just downed, he made a choking noise, "The what stuff?"

Blushing, she realized she had let slip the private name she had called them ever since she first saw them leaping through the sky, "Umm, Sky Walkers? It's dumb, I know, but I saw you guys months ago leaping over buildings and wires and to me, from the ground, it was like you were walking on the sky, like you had mastered the force and the elements and I've called you that ever since..." her voice trailed off as Billy sat down next to her.   

Laying his arms on the table, a smirk played across his lips, "Well, now that I know you're a huge Star Wars nerd, you're even cuter." his eyes dancing with mirth.

Her heart sank at that. She knew Billy didn't feel the same way about her (why would he when he had Cassandra slinking around out there waiting out for him to join her in the sky) but her heart still leaped at the knowledge that he thought she was cute.

His eyes fixed on an unseen spot as he mulled the name over, "I gotta say, I like the name Sky Walkers. Might bring that up to the whole team. Give you full credit and trademark rights of course." He winked and she giggled as she pulled her mug of tea closer. 

"Why don't you join us in the living room? You're always welcome. And I have insider intel that when Jean's over, you two hang out like you're best friends. So why don't you want to hang out with me?" He made an exaggerated pouty face at her as she struggled to not lean over and bite his exposed bottom lip.

"Because you annoy me" she said primly as she lifted her mug to her mouth, then before she could stop herself, "and I don't think your girlfriend likes me very much." 

The tea was scalding but she forced herself to take a long sip so she wouldn't have to look at Billy's face. 

Billy sat there, studying her, she seemed so out of place with the dark clothes that were rotating in and out of Mark's place. They'd all be caught up in planning, then she'd come bursting into the apartment and it was like she was bringing sunshine in with her. 

She painted her nails with pink sparkles, she watched romantic comedies, she told him about the little kids she played with in the hospital on her rounds, she laughed easily, she engaged with the other members of the crew, pulling them into her warmth, her goodness. She had patched all of them up at one time or another. The more she got to know the whole crew, the more she relaxed and the more she relaxed, the more Billy found sunshine spilling through her cracks and coaxing him towards her warmth. 

But then, Cassandra would lazily lift an eyebrow at him, nod her head and he'd leave with her. He'd known Cassandra since he joined the Sky Walkers. They'd just recently started...well...he wouldn't call it "dating" so much as he and Cassandra would do a job together and then have mind blowing sex after when adrenaline made them both want to explode out of their skins. 

He was starting to realize though that he and Cassandra didn't...talk. Not like how Billy talked to (Y/N).

He laid out his hands on the table, looking at his fingers. They were calloused, rough, covered in tattoos. Her hands were soft despite having to wash them a million times a day. ("I use lotion every day, multiple times a day, how do you not own lotion Billy?" He had walked into Mark's apartment the next day only to be met with a bottle of Bath and Body Works hand lotion being thrown at him by Mark. His heart had squeezed in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.) and her nails were adorned with pink sparkles. His own nails were busted and, he was pretty sure, had dried blood under them.

He had no business thinking the butterflies that erupted in his stomach every time she smiled at him meant anything more than she was cute and he liked cute women. Never mind that if she said Cassandra didn't like her he was on the verge of saying he'd dump her. 

"Yeah, well. Cassandra doesn't like too many people. I wouldn't worry about it too much." He slapped his hands on the table pushing himself up. Lifting her eyes from her mug she watched him retreat back into the living room, the muscles of his back moving and shifting as he made his way back to the Sky Walkers, slipping easily onto the arm of the chair Cassandra was lazing in.

She really hated how good they looked next to each other. 

She finished her tea, listening to them finalizing plans and making arrangements for the job, which would happen the day after next.  

She had been hoping she'd have a shift scheduled at the hospital but no such luck. 

Sighing, she stood up to rinse her mug out. In less than 48 hours she would be back here, sitting with Mark, trying to keep herself occupied and to not care too much that Billy was out there and she couldn't do anything to keep him safe. 

~~~

The job went awry so quickly. 

She didn't know what to make of it. One minute she had been sitting on Mark's sofa, curled up with a book as Mark sat at his desk, surrounded by monitors. Listening to him call out commands, chuckle softly at jokes, the sharp tap of keys as he disconnected security cameras or diverted them away from where the Sky Walkers were prowling.

For a while, she had been standing behind him, watching all of this happen as the group slipped through the halls of a lavish hotel. Tapping Mark's shoulder, in an over exaggerated whisper, she told him to tell the team that she said good luck and that if any of them got injured she "wouldn't patch them up because then they wouldn't learn anything." 

Mark rolled his eyes and obliged, reaching a hand down to squeeze (Y/N)'s in a reassuring gesture.

Through Mark's headset, she heard the team giving their thanks, promising her that this job would do away with the rest of her loans and they'd be back to her before she knew it. Billy had looked dead set into the nearest security camera and winked as he promised he'd come back in one piece.

A gasp flew form her parted lips as her brother cleared his throat, reminding Billy to get his ass moving and to stop flirting with his sister. 

Then, shit hit the fan.

It started with her hearing Billy's roughly accented voice piercing through Mark's headphones, yelling about the jewels being fakes.

Mark talked him through it, as Jean yelled back at Billy which is when Mark started yelling. 

That's when she had heard gunshots. 

Everything was a blur after that. She ran to the monitors and thought she was looking at a video game. There were so many men with guns running towards where the Sky Walkers were she assumed it was an army of some sort. She saw the flash of guns discharging and people she knew, people she had come to love, fall to the ground where she hoped like hell they would get back up again. 

Part of her wanted to call her hospital, pull some strings and help as many of them as she could but Mark had pulled her into his chest, telling her it was no use. 

In the confusion and mayhem she thought she had seen Billy, necklace clamped firmly between his teeth, jumping through a window but she couldn't be sure. 

So, she and Mark had to sit and wait. Till Jean came back. 

Just Jean.

He explained what had happened as he and Mark sat at the kitchen table, nursing a bottle of whiskey. She had stayed for one drink but the grief didn't feel like one she could share in. 

She finally left, as she walked away, each step thudded to the ground while the only refrain that carried her home was billybillybillybillybillybillybilly. It wasn't until she found herself standing outside of her front door that she realized her body had carried her home while her thoughts had been in the sky.

Her body felt heavier, though she knew that a part of her heart had died in Mark's apartment that night and she wasn't sure if it would ever be whole again.

Her body was on autopilot as she stepped into the shower but each drop of water hitting her back felt like a knife.

She knew Cassandra and the rest of the team were there to help him. No matter how she felt about Cassandra personally, she knew she was part of the team. They were there for back up but so many people were in the fray.

So many people gone.

The water had gone cold by the time she stepped out of the shower. Not that she could feel it anyway.

Braiding her hair, she settled down on the chair by her window. It overlooked the fire escape she would lounge on with a glass of wine on nice summer nights.

Tonight it was empty, utilitarian. Only reminding her of how many Billy had fallen through as he tried to get away.

She leaned her head against the window, feeling the glass pushing back against her skull. Easing the dull ache that throbbed within as she closed her eyes. 

~~~

That's where she had been when she heard the first thump.

Sleep had been within her grasp when she heard the second thump. 

Groggily reaching into her sweatpants pocket, she pulled her phone out and saw it was 3:14 am. 

There were no texts or calls from Mark.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, wondering if it was her neighbors making that noise. 

The third thump rattled her window causing her to jolt out of her chair.

Slowly, she reached her hand forward, nudging the blinds back, letting her eyes adjust to the nighttime as the lights from street lamps below worked to permeate the darkness that covered the world. That's when she saw the dark lump of something on her fire escape.

Squinting her eyes, her first thought was, why would someone throw their garbage bag onto my fire escape?

Flicking on the lamp she had by the window, it cast an uneven glow over the lump revealing dark clothes and athletics shoes spattered with blood.

The figure raised its head and time slowed down in those moments. The wan light drifting up from below barely illuminated the eyes staring back at her but she'd know the color anywhere. Those blue eyes, the color of her sky, was the only way she knew it was Billy.

The rest of him resembled a man who had scrabbled his way back from hell. His face was covered in scraps and tears. His visage and hands covered with dried blood. There was a wound on his neck that was slowly leaking blood but had started to congeal into a nasty mess.

His hair was matted to his head. His right eye was ringed in the blues and blacks of the beginnings of a nasty black eye. Sweat shined on his face as he blearily took in her face. He did his best to fight the smile breaking over his lips but he was so grateful to see her he barely noticed when his lips cracked even more.  

As she opened the window she heard someone panting "thank god thank god thank god" and it took her a minute to realize that the prayer was falling from her lips. She bundled Billy into her apartment, setting him down on the chair by the window, still warm from her body. 

She locked the window, drawing her curtains closed and rushed over to the front door, double checking it had been locked as well. For extra security she pushed one of her kitchen chairs underneath the door knob. 

Hearing a snort she turned, "You watch too many bad gangster movies as a kid?" 

Fighting against the lump in her throat, her voice came out thick as she tried to match his snark, "Yeah, well. You'll thank me later when the bad guys are stopped by my Ikea chair."

He heaved out a sigh that she supposed was as close as he could get to a laugh in his state. Sinking deeper into the chair, hissing as he finally allowed his body to relax. Nurse Brain kicked in as she took stock of his body, where he was holding tension, where he was avoiding putting pressure, assessing how old the cuts were. After a quick run down, she raced to her freezer.

Filling her arms with every bag of frozen veggies she had, she quickly wrapped them in paper towels, briskly walking back over to Billy's form. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, listened to the rattle of every intake, so grateful for each shuttery breath. 

The grateful feeling was quickly overcome by anger. This asshole. 

This was the second time he had shown up to throw himself at her mercy in a horrific state. She almost wished he were dead. She felt her knees shake, betraying how grateful she was that he was alive and in her apartment. 

Instead of telling him all that though, she slapped a bag of frozen peas on his eye.

Yelping, his body curled inward as his hand reached up to catch the bag, pressing the peas back into place, "What the fuck? These are bloody freezing. I barely make it out alive and you're trying to kill me with frost bite from," he pulled the bag back squinting at it, "frozen peas?"  

"Oh I'm so sorry that the frozen veggies I slapped on your busted face so you don't swell up like a fucking balloon aren't to your liking. My sincerest apologizes your majesty." She hissed out as she slapped another bag on his side as he let out a grunt.

He pressed a hand to the bag against his side as she mumbled, her fingers dancing over his form as she poked and prodded, trying to feel what the damage was, what she could do for him here and if he needed to get to a hospital. 

"Couldn't make this experience a little more pleasant could ya?" He didn't mean to be a dick but in his defense, he had had a hell of a day. The job didn't go at all like they planned, he'd lost friends, Cassandra turned out to be a backstabbing thief, he didn't get the necklace, he'd fallen from the top of a building and then, to really just make the day fucking wild, when he'd come too, some weirdo had offered him the strangest proposition he'd ever heard after pretending he was going to kill Billy.

So, yeah. He was a little grumpy. 

"You're lucky I even let your sorry ass into my apartment. How do you even know where I live anyway?"

"I've been having you followed by my top men."

"You asked Mark didn't you."

"Fuck."

Her lips quirked up for a second as she finished rotating his foot around checking for any swelling or broken bones. Standing up she declared, "You don't have anything seriously wrong or broken on you which is a fucking miracle. Just some bad scraps that I can take care of here." She made her way to the hall closet where she kept a first aid kit and other medical accessories. Ever since Mark sliced his hand open one Thanksgiving which had been dubbed the "Bloodiest Thanksgiving Since The Pilgrims Landed" she figured she'd better be stocked. 

Billy sank lower into the chair. Leaning his head back he let out a sigh, hearing (Y/N) mumbling to herself, rattling around, he could almost pretend that he had come over under normal circumstances.

Hearing the soft thud of her footfalls, he cracked an eye open as she pulled a stool closer to his face. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, she started pouring something on a cotton ball, "If you thought the frozen peas were bad you're really gonna hate this." 

"What could be worse than-" his sentence was cut off by a strangled cry as she pressed the cotton ball onto the scrap by his eye. Slamming his fists on the arms of the chair, he felt his body seize up as he fought to keep control, "Fucking hell (Y/N). Seriously, they should revoke your nurses license."

"You keep disrespecting me like that and I'm just going to dump this whole bottle on you." She snapped at him. Billy pried his eyes open as he took deep breaths. He turned his head to face her, opening his mouth to fire off another comment when he glanced down at her hands and stopped. 

She was getting more of the disinfectant on the floor and her legs than she was getting on the cotton ball held in her hand. Her voice managed to be strong and sure but her hands told a different story. One of anxiety, one of worry, one of relief.

"Were you worried about me baby?" His voice was so soft that for a second she wondered if someone else had entered her apartment. Locking eyes with him, she thought about how just hours before, she had been certain she would never see his face again.

Never joke with him again, talk to him, share a quiet moment with him, never learn everything about him, never sit with him at their own kitchen table one day.

She wanted that. She wanted hours and days and months and years of kitchen table talks with Billy. Feeling the relief at having him back with her, she didn't even think about her next actions. 

She leaned forward and kissed him...only to pull back immediately, "Oh my god I'm such an idiot. Your lip is so busted, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have done that, that was so dumb and what if I had hurt you even more? That would have been terrible-" 

Billy's hand reached up, cupping the back of her head and pulling her into him. Her lips were soft and he bet a hundred bucks that she used chapstick every day. He knew his lips were chapped, cracked and probably coated in dried blood but he didn't care. Feeling her pressed against him helped take away the fear he had been trying to tamp down ever since the maniac in the garage had pretended to kill him. 

Finally pulling back he let out a shaky laugh, "Were you really that worried I wouldn't come back to you, love?" 

"No, I was worried that you wouldn't help me pay off my loans. Fuck your safety, I needed money." She was trying to get them back to their usual banter but the big gulps of air she was taking betrayed how she was really feeling. 

"You were worried about me. You wanted me to be safe and come back to you in one piece. Don't deny it." The smugness of his voice made her smile as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered in his ear, "You ever tell anyone I said this and I'll deny it but, yes."

She pulled away, placing the cotton balls and bottle on the floor, giving herself some time to collect herself as Billy reached his hands toward her, grabbing her own and rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands, sending sparks up her arms right into her heart. 

Her heart ached for both of them. They both had lost so much today but they were lucky enough to be able to come back to each other. Billy heaved a sigh and looked up at her, "You were right." 

"I usually am but what specifically was I right about in this instance?" 

"You're a giant pain in my ass. About Cassandra. She wasn't trustworthy. Left me hanging off the edge of a building, stole the necklace and left the rest of the team behind," he brushed a piece of her hair out of the way, letting his fingers linger on her cheek, "should have listened to you." 

Blushing, she leaned her cheek into Billy's palm, "Hmm, I could get used to hearing you tell me that." Billy chuckled as she straightened up and fixed him with a glare, "You just have to keep promising me you're going to come back to me in one piece." 

Billy's eyes darkened, shifting in the chair as he remembered the deal the man in the room had proposed to him. Being able to go completely off the grid. Everything wiped clean. He would be a ghost. 

But being in (Y/N)'s apartment, holding her hands in his, having her smile, kiss and hold him...he wondered if he had made the right decision. 

"I'll do my best, darling." He muttered, purposefully not saying promise because he knew, some day soon, he would break that promise and he didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself knowing he had broken her trust. 

Placing a soft kiss on his lips, she stroked the side of his face with her thumb. Sniffing she shook her head slightly, "Alright. Quit distracting me, I need to finish patching you up." 

He chuckled, "Would it kill you to be nice to me? I mean, we just had an incredibly tender moment and I did have a pretty rough day..." his voice trailed off as he widened his eyes in an attempt to gain sympathy. She scoffed as she grabbed the cotton balls and disinfectant again.

"I suppose falling from the top of a building would kind of ruin your day. Now hold still. And don't be a baby." She dabbed the soaked cotton ball on the scrap on his neck, intertwining her fingers with his as he hissed out a breath. Squeezing his fingers, she murmured apologizes and encouragement, "I'm sorry my love, it's okay. Breathe. You're doing great."  

After slapping some band-aids on the worst of the cuts ("What, no Spiderman Band-Aids?") she helped him to the shower, leaving him to wash off the day as she went to her room to find some sweats for him. Luckily, she had nicked plenty of Mark's sweatpants over the years so she laid those and a shirt out for Billy to find when he came into the room from his shower. 

Hearing the door open, she looked up only to be met by a shirtless Billy, hair slicked back, chest damp, towel riding low on his hips. She didn't mean for the sharp intake of breath to be so audible but it was worth it when it earned her a smirk from Billy as he crossed over to her. 

"Even beat up all to hell, still not a terrible sight, huh?" 

Swallowing thickly she just nodded her head in agreement. Not trusting herself to speak she quickly turned and grabbed the clothes she laid out, shoved them into his arms and left, the sound of Billy chuckling following her out into the living room. 

Settling onto her couch she fiddled with the end of her braid, contemplating why she had seen anguish flash through Billy's eyes when she made him promise to come back to her in one piece. She had definitely noticed the lack of the word "promise" when Billy answered her request. 

The timeline of what happened since he fell didn't make much sense either. If Billy had fallen from the building, then where had he been for so long? There was no way somebody would have ignored a body laying unconscious in the street, especially with cops swarming the building. 

"Baby? Hey. I can sleep on the couch. I don't mind."

Jolting out of her thoughts, she blinked as she came back to the present moment, Billy standing over her, "No! You shouldn't be sleeping on a couch. You can sleep in my bed."

"I've been waiting for an invitation to your bed for a long time baby." She flushed as she pushed herself off the couch. Grabbing Billy's hand, they walked back to her bedroom. Settling themselves under the covers she was gripped by a sudden wave of anxiety, should she try to cuddle with him? Would he want space now? Did she want to give him space? He was the one sharing her bed.

The anxiety melted away when she heard a voice in her ear, "Come here, love. I won't bite. Unless you're into that." She giggled she turned her body to face his, nuzzling her face into his chest, breathing in the smell of him as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss onto the top of her head.

Stroking her back, they drifted off to sleep. Their breathe synching up as they finally felt safe from the world as they created their own little one in each others arms. 

~

The light streaming into her apartment caused her to stir. Stretching her body out she almost forgot that she had shared a bed with Billy last night. When she remembered, she was gripped with panic when she realized he was no longer there. Leaping from the bed, she raced into her living room, making sure that the door hadn't been busted down and Billy had been taken while she'd been sleeping. She knew it was illogical or she'd have to be the most sound sleeper on the planet but she still exhaled a breath when she saw her door was still locked and the chair underneath it still in place. 

"Gotta say, I did sleep better knowing that we were protected by your highly sophisticated security system." She turned at the sound of his deep voice, he was standing at her stove, cooking eggs as he smiled at her, "Did you really think I'd leave you like I did the first time we met?"

Shaking her head she went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, exhaling as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders, using his other arm to keep stirring the eggs. "Don't scare me like that. I thought you got taken and I'm not Liam Neeson. I have no skills to use to find you." His chest rumbled with laughter, "Well, Liam Neeson isn't as pretty as you but you're crafty. I'd trust you to find me."

Placing a kiss onto his chest, she giggled, "Do you want coffee?" he nodded, "Also, how are you feeling today?"

"Sore. Like I fell from the top of a building and landed on concrete." 

"Huh. Interesting. Did you do anything out of the ordinary yesterday?" Faux innocence lacing her voice as she measured out coffee grounds.

"Yeah. I fell from the top of a building and landed on concrete." Was Billy's deadpan response which had her cracking up which made Billy laugh at how hard she was laughing. 

They finally pulled themselves together and stared at each other, him smiling, her hiccuping as she wiped at her eyes, "We're some pretty sick fucks for laughing at something like that, huh?"

He shrugged, "Probably. But it feels good to laugh. Especially with you." 

~~

After breakfast had been cleared away, Billy had stretched out on the couch, more bags of frozen peas on his various injuries. She came out of the kitchen, taking a moment to enjoy the peace before she broached the inevitable, "So, we should probably see Mark and Jean at some point. They're going to want to know you're okay." 

Billy grunted in agreement, tipping his head back to look at her, "Yeah. That's not a bad idea. They're going to be pissed I came to you first before them though." 

"I don't think so. I think they're just going to be relieved that you're alive. Plus, I am a nurse. It'd make sense to come to me and not those two chuckle fucks." She padded over to the couch, standing over him. "If you had gone to them first they would have just brought you to me anyway."

"That's true." He gazed up at her before grabbing her hands and tugging her down. Resisting, she giggled, "I don't want to fall on top of you and hurt you more, but I'll lie down next to you if you want."

He nodded eagerly, shifting his body over on the couch to make room for her, she curled up against him. Their legs intertwining as she splayed a hand over his chest, the rise and fall of his chest a balm to her anxiety and helping root her to him. 

Inhaling deeply, then instantly regretting it at how it caused his ribcage to feel like it might crack, Billy felt more content here than he ever had in his entire life. He wanted to capture this feeling, bottle it, find a way to make it permanent. Make it stick so he wouldn't have to do what he knew was coming. 

Sighing, (Y/N) snuggled closer, and his heart broke at how cruel he was being, how selfish. But he couldn't help it. He had asked for 24 hours and by god if he wouldn't make the most of them. 

"Hey." he murmured into her hair, she made a noise in the back of her throat that made his heart skip a beat. He brought two fingers to her chin, tilting her head back so she'd be forced to look at him. A slow grin traveled across her lips as he drank in her face, memorizing every part of it so he'd never forget. He had done it so many times in Mark's apartment in shitty lighting that in good lighting, it was like seeing your favorite painting in person instead of through a computer screen.  

Leaning down, he brought his lips to hers. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she kissed him back, relishing in how good it felt to be able to do this instead of just imagining it. Pulling back she smiled, resting her forehead against his. 

"What is it, baby?"

"It just...you have no idea how long I've wanted this. And to finally be able to do it...I don't know. It feels really good to have you here, with me. Like this." Widening her eyes she pulled back, "Not like, you being injured but like being with you in this, way." Her voice trailing off when she became bashful at how vulnerable she had just been. 

The wave of love, adoration and warmth he felt for her crested over him, causing his eyes to fall closed to keep the tears at bay. He didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve her. But, fuck, he would make the most of this time with her and make sure she knew how much he loved her. 

Tilting his head back down, he locked their lips together. She moved her lips against his, memorizing their curves, their slopes, how they fit together. Her hand cupped his cheek, being mindful of his black eye and the various scraps covering the planes of it. 

Feeling her hands caress his face with care, Billy became overcome. He was upset, guilt-ridden and worried he had made the wrong decision. Fighting to keep himself in the moment, he deepened the kiss, gripping her waist with an intensity that startled her. She jolted forward, causing Billy to groan when her heat made contact with the bulge that was growing larger by the second. 

"Damn baby, we've only been kissing for a minute, quit trying to get into my pants already." 

"You wish I was trying to get into your pants." her lips brushed against his with every other word and she could feel him smiling. He nipped at her bottom lip, causing her to gasp which allowed him ample time to connect their lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue. Their hands drifting up and down their sides, exploring as they got more comfortable with each others forms.

Dancing her fingers down his arms, she felt the muscles clenching and unclenching as his hand found her hip and squeezed causing her to moan involuntarily. Smirking, he ran his hand up and over the rise of her hip, trailing his fingers down into the dip of her waist. She snuggled closer to Billy, breathing in coffee, disinfectant and the unmistakable scent that was Billy. 

Draping his arm over her waist, he pulled her even closer to him. Feeling his hardening length in his sweatpants she tested the waters by circling her hips against him. Causing a moan to erupt from his mouth and throw his head back in ecstasy. 

"Baby, what's the professional nurses opinion of having sex when someone's injured? Asking for myself because if I don't have sex with you tonight I just may toss myself off another building."

Giggling, she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead so she could look in his eyes, "In a nurses opinion? Probably not. But in (Y/N)'s personal opinion? Who gives a shit I've wanted to fuck you since the first day I saw you." 

Locking his eyes onto hers, her breath hitched in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. His normally sky blue eyes were the color before a storm and his hand was locked onto her hip with a strength that she couldn't wait to explore later. 

"Then get up here, baby, and fuck me how you've always wanted to." 

Swinging her leg over, she found herself straddling Billy, placing her hands on his chest, she felt the large planes of his chest expanding as he took a shaky breath in, his eyes glassy. Flicking her hair back she leaned forward to kiss him deeply, "What baby?"

Shaking his head he cleared his throat, "Nothing. Just, dammit baby. You look like a goddess." 

Blushing she bent down to nip at his throat, causing him to buck his hips up, causing his hard length to rub against her clothed cunt causing them both to dissolve into moans. Pushing herself up, she started rocking her hips teasingly along his cock. 

Whining in the back of his throat he begged, "Please, love, I don't care, just fuck me. Please." 

Shocked at the control she had over this man, she ripped the t shirt she had been wearing over her head, exposing her tits and black underwear she had been wearing. Billy keened and grasped her tits, causing her to push her chest forward, the feel of his calloused palms teasing her nipples caused her eyes to roll into the back of her head. 

Billy reached his hands down, shimmying his sweatpants and underwear down far enough so his cock sprang up between them, her mouth watering at how thick it was. Stroking her center through her panties with two fingers he cocked an eyebrow at her, "I can't exactly fuck you through these so they'll have to go. I don't care how sexy they are."

Laughing, she stood up on the couch, resting one hand on the wall as she shimmied the panties down her legs, kneeling back over Billy's exposed length when Billy stopped her, "Wait, hold on a second baby." He teased one finger, then another into her dripping core, pumping in and out slowly as she rocked her hips forward trying to get more of him into her. 

Billy slowly dragged them out, popping his fingers into his mouth and holding eye contact with (Y/N) as he sucked his fingers clean, relishing the sweet taste of her, "Okay, baby. I think you're wet enough." 

"Damn right I am." She murmured as she sank down onto his hard cock, taking his full length, resting her hands on Billy's strong chest pushing her tits together in the most delicious way Billy had ever seen. His hands found purchase on her hips as she started rocking back and forth, working his length. Feeling his cock stretching her walls in the most amazing way, she tilted her pelvis in that way she knew would have his cock nudging her g-spot, getting her closer to where she wanted to be, which was total ecstasy with Billy. 

Billy's eyes screwed closed as she found her rhythm and worked his cock, trying to reach her orgasm. His whole body felt like an exposed fuse, bursting with energy and if she touched him in the right way he would combust. 

"Billy, please, rub my clit..." she panted as she rocked her hips faster, Billy could feel her walls clenching as she went faster and he reached down, rubbing the sensitive nub with his calloused fingers, causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head as she chased her high, "Is that what you want baby? Yeah? You wanna come all over this cock?" Billy mumbled as she stared up at the angel fucking herself over on his cock. He almost came seeing how blissed out she was but then he rubbed a little harder on her clit and it pushed her right over the edge. She came with a strangled cry of "Billy!" and her walls clamped down as she fell forward into his chest.

"There's a girl, such a good girl. My best girl. My only girl. Oh my love, taking me so well..." Billy mumbled as he stroked her hair, "Now, let me take over." She nodded as Billy grasped her hips and started slamming his hips against hers, causing her to moan out, feeling her pussy tighten again as he brought a hand down to her ass, the sound of the sharp slap reverberating through her apartment.

Distantly, in the back of her mind, she wondered if this was good for him in his current injured state but being so close to a second orgasm left her with one thought but to cum around his cock again. 

Finding a rhythm, their hips met as she pressed her lips to his, catching his moans and hoping to mute her own as they fucked each other into oblivion. All too soon, she felt the familiar catch in her stomach as her second orgasm came around, "Billy..I..I'm so close."

"I know darling, me too. Can you wait? Can you cum with me? Please baby." She nodded as Billy fucked her harder, she rocked her hips faster and then suddenly, Billy let loose a string of expletives and she chanted billy billy billy oh god over and over again like a prayer as she felt him fill her pussy with his warm cum. 

After a few minutes, she pulled away from his sweaty chest, pushing her hair behind her ears as she grinned down at him. Grinning back up at her, he tickled her waist, "Normally I can last longer but that sex has been building up for several months."

Throwing her head back she let out a laugh, "Don't worry. I don't plan on stopping having sex with you anytime soon. We have all the time in the world to build up a tolerance to each other." 

A dark look washed over Billy's face as he contemplated how little time they had but instead of answering, he pulled her down into another kiss, "Let's just focus on today, love."

~~~

They spent the rest of the day entwined on the couch, mixing it up between lazy make out sessions, sex and her standing up to get the door when the delivery person rang the door to drop off food and beer. 

She had asked if Billy wanted her to text Mark and Jean but he just told her he would deal with it soon. So she didn't push it. She knew she was being selfish but she wanted to keep living in this world that consisted of her, Billy and the pizza they ordered alive for as long as she could.

Unfortunately, it ended all too soon as all good things are wont to do. Soon enough, Billy was pulling on his shoes, as it grew dark out, she had been getting comfortable when he knelt down next to the bed. "Listen, love. I need to drop off something to Mark and Jean. Don't wait up for me." He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead as she lifted her head up to meet him halfway. 

"It's late babe, are you sure they'll still be up?" He fixed her with an incredulous look, "It's Mark and Jean. Of course they're still awake." She shrugged as she considered who they were talking about and conceded defeat. "Just come back to me in one piece okay? If you want," she hastily added as she realized he may want to go back to his own home "It's an open invitation. I'm sure you want to go home." 

He smiled at her with melancholy in his eyes as he pressed a kiss to one cheek, "With you?" then a second kiss to her other cheek "I'm always home" Biting her lip to contain the smile threatening to break her face in two, Billy decided he had never seen a more beautiful woman and wanted to alway think of her like this. 

~~~

She woke the next morning to 25 missed calls from Mark and 33 from Jean. Blearily, she called Mark. Once he picked up and started rambling, she hung up and stared straight up at the ceiling. 

It wasn't until Mark came to get her after not hearing from her for hours did she register how damp her cheeks had become. She was numb. Time didn't mean anything, nothing meant anything anymore. 

Billy was dead. 

He had broken his promise. 

~~~

Standing at the edge of a gaping hole in the world, she contemplated throwing herself into it along with the empty casket they'd be burying. She barely registered the low rumbles of a priest talking but not really hearing anything. Billy had gone to Mark and Jean, told them he needed to run a quick errand and gone back to the hotel they had just robbed from. He had been running along the roof, where it overlooked the rocky ledge of the ocean. He had jumped, thinking there was a platform there but there hadn't been. There was Billy, the air and the jagged rocks along the coast the only thing to greet him.  

The coast guard searched for hours but had found no body. Just the black rubber bracelet he always wore around his wrist. 

Twirling the bracelet between her fingers now, she decided that since the casket was empty, there was no point.

She had been numb since she got the news. Not moving from her couch unless Mark or Jean came to propel her into the shower, make her eat some food. but she really didn't see a point in doing anything anymore.

He had promised. 

And now he was gone. So what did it matter what she did? People left, they broke promises, and words and promises didn't mean anything to anyone she guessed. She may as well do anything she wanted.

Lifting her head she saw Mark, Jean and two women who had introduced themselves as Billy's mother and sister. Mark had introduced her as Billy's girlfriend and they murmured how much Billy talked about her but it was all too little too late. 

She didn't want to know anyone else other than Billy but that had been ripped from her. Standing at the edge of his grave she felt Mark and Jean grasping her shoulders, telling her they were going to give her some space. So it was just the three of them and as his sister looked at her, she smiled a thin smile, "You're just as pretty as he said you were." 

She fell to her knees. It was all too much, She couldn't support herself without Billy. What did it matter? All her skills, all her knowledge about keeping people safe when she couldn't even save the person that mattered most.

~~~

"Oof, there are three certified hotties just weeping over your grave dude. How doe that feel?"

Billy's stomach clenched as he saw (Y/N) fall to her knees at his grave, watching his mother and sister race around to help her. It wasn't until One clapped a hand on his shoulder did he register that he had involuntarily moved forward to help her. 

"Nuh-uh bro. Not anymore. Don't even think about doing a Christmas Carol Ghosts of Christmas Past bullshit. I spent way too much money for you to blow this whole operation."

Billy nodded mutely. Keeping an eye on the women around his grave he swallowed around the lump that had been stuck in his throat since he had left (Y/N)'s apartment.

What One had suggested to him had been too good to pass up. And when One had promised, in writing, that (Y/N) would always be kept safe and comfortable, it was a no brainer. And he knew, in his heart of hearts, that she deserved someone better, more stable than him. Not some Sky Walker who always had his head in the clouds. 

Who one day may not come back to her.

Taking a deep breath he turned his back on the trio that were surrounding his grave. Sending up a prayer, he hoped she would be safe and would get over him soon. Because he knew he would never get over her for the rest of his short, harrowing life. 

[keen2meecha]

Daybreak /|\ Prologue

(An introduction to the main four characters and the world at large)

It starts like this:

Two figures, locked in battle. One tall and raven-haired, the other small with hair like the golden sun itself. Every clash of their staffs rings out, betraying them to be made of metal rather than wood - impossible to know based on appearance alone, given the impeccable paint and intricate detail work that decorated them both. The raven wears a twisted grin, while the sun bares her teeth viciously. It’s rather like a dance - one partner steps forward, one backward. Come together, spring apart. One brings the staff down, the other raises theirs to block the blow. Together. The one who blocks tenses and bends their elbows, then shoves the other back a step. Apart. The raven brings the staff down, and the sun rolls into a somersault off to the side to dodge the hit.

“Tell me a story,” The raven says.

The sun grunts and rolls back to her feet. She resets her stance, then says, “There was once nothing but light. And in that light grew the first life.”

The raven charges, the sun swings her staff. The resounding clang as it hits the raven’s staff rings through the ever-autumn forest clearing.

Together.

“But under that life, in the eternal light, came shadows - the first darkness.”

The raven shoves her back, then swings for her head. She barely manages to lean back from the blow.

Apart.

“At first, the light welcomed the dark. It had been alone for so long. The life below had begun to avoid it, bored and pained by its eternity. But the dark, being so new and so opposite, found the light beautiful beyond words.”

Together.

“One day, it asked to share the light’s burden. Perhaps, if they alternated the everlasting watch over the world, life below would grow to love them again. The light, intrigued by this new idea and eager to please its new friend, agreed.”

Apart.

“Thus, the first day and the first night were created.”

It starts like this:

A girl and her friends, creeping through a library. Though the clocks inform them that it is nighttime, long past closing time, the sun still shines outside as if it were midday.

“I dunno about this,” One of the friends whispers, peering about nervously.

“Chill, due,” The girl replies, rolling her eyes. “It’ll be fine - we’re like two days out from graduation. They can’t expel us now.”

“I know several who would disagree,” Another friend says, but he sounds unconcerned. “Not like you care about that, eh Roxy?”

“Don’t call me that,” She snaps. There’s a brief moment interspersed with the others’ giggles, then she sighs in resignation. “Why wouldn’t I care?”

“Because you’re still mad that your application to Axial Academy was rejected.”

“It wasn’t rejected - it’s just gone unanswered.” Her tone is insistent, but it’s clear that they’ve all had this discussion more than once already.

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“Let’s just find what we came for and get out, okay?”

They scatter at her sharp tone, afraid in the way they hadn’t been earlier. She scowls and pushes her way to the back, ignoring their whispers and giggles. When she reaches the section labeled restricted she doesn’t hesitate. She pulls two pins out of her mass of bright red waves and bends down. After a moment of fiddling, the lock springs open. She smirks and strolls in, wholly unaware of how much she looks like her least-favorite uncle as she surveys the bookcases. It takes a moment before she finds the section she is looking for, clearly labeled as Alchemy.

Hidden between the bookcases, her cockiness fades into something more wistful and nostalgic. She reached one fingerless-gloved hand out, brushes it along the spines of the books until she reaches one in particular. This, the very thing that has driven her for years, the last task given to her by her father, the mission that has taken her so far from all that she loves, right here in her grasp-

“Stop!”

“Time went on - for there was time now, in this world with alternating light and dark. During this time, as the light and dark grew closer, they began to blend, until the day was divided into four segments: dawn, day, twilight, and night.”

Together

“At first, these were equal segments. But the peace could not hold forever. The night began to grow jealous - the life below always came out and enjoyed the dawn, the day, the twilight. But when it was night’s turn, they hid away inside, unused to and unable to live in the darkness.”

Apart

“The day attempted to create nocturnal life to appease its friend; twilight and dawn shortened their time to give the night more time; light crept into the dark, creating the moons and stars.”

Together

“Life finally began to pay attention, but they cared not for the dark. They only wanted to look at this new light. They admired it, told stories about it, painted and sang and danced for it. The darkness’ rage grew, until one day it declared that it wished it never joined the light, and the light replied that that had been the darkness’ choice.”

Apart

“Hurt and enraged, the darkness withdrew.”

It starts like this:

A girl is running. She’s on a beach. Behind her, there are flames and shouting and a home she can never return to. Ahead of her is the ever-rising sun and a horizon of possibilities.

She aches to go back.

She can’t go back.

She will have to find somewhere safe. She doesn’t know where that will be. She will have to find people who will welcome her without questions. She doesn’t know who that will be. It has to be soon. The fire won’t distract them for long. Not long enough, at least. And now they know. That it was her, that she’s left - for good. There’s a target on her back, one that won’t go away just by lying low and hoping for the best. She knows this, but she only has so many tricks.

She’ll survive, in the end. It’s what she’s best at; surviving, no matter the cost.

No matter the loss.

She just wishes it isn’t so quick to feel familiar.

Together

“The world below shook and splintered.”

Apart

“Desperate to keep the balance, twilight and dawn attempted to reconnect the two. And in their attempts, they stopped flowing together.”

Together

“This is how our world came to be as it is: not a progression of dawn to day to twilight to night, but static.”

Apart

“Eternal night on one side, eternal day on the other. The dawn ever-present and the twilight ever-present between them, desperate to prevent the darkness’ revenge.“

The raven sweeps in aiming the staff for the sun’s throat. He moves as a blur, nearly too quick to see. But the sun reacts nearly as quickly, bringing her hand up just in time to catch the staff in one hand. The raven pauses, thrown off-guard, and it gives the sun just enough time to sweep her leg under his. He falls to the ground, and by the time he recovers she has both of their staffs pointed at his throat.

The clearing is silent but for their panting. The raven has his hands raised, and the sun is glaring. Then something shifts, and they both relax with matching grins.

“Not bad, kid,” The raven says, sitting up with a wince. “But you forgot something.”

“What’s that?”

“The Fragments.”

“What?! That’s not a part of the story!”

“It’s the most important part - we’ve been over this.”

“Well, excuse me for being a bit distracted.”

“Ha, that’s alright. We can cover it next time. For now, it’s getting late - let’s get inside.”

“Ooh, did I earn dessert?”

“Sure.”

“Yes!” The sun pumps her fist as she cheers, then races into the cabin on the edge of their clearing.

The raven snorts, shakes his head and mutters, “Damn bundle of energy,” then follows her in.

Neither of them notice the way the shadows grow just a little longer, stretching spindly fingers towards the cabin.

It starts like this:

A girl trudges through the dark city, snow falling gently from the sky. She shivers and gathers her layers closer around her body. Anywhere else they would be far too thick, but in this eternal winter they’re almost painfully thin. Her head is lowered so that her cloud of white hair hides her dark face. There’s a bandage around her throat, the cleanest thing on her person.

People in the street - for there are people in the street, it’s late morning despite the lack of sun - stop to point and whisper and debate offering her help. But she pays them no mind. She knows where she needs to go, where she needs to be.  Perhaps not where she wants to be. But where she’ll go nonetheless.

It’s her duty.

Her booted feet crunch quietly in the snow. It was thicker on the outskirts of the city, but the snowscrapers prioritize the center of the city. So when her feet finally land on damp stone, she lifts her head.

Giant silver gates rise up before her, flanked by two helmeted figures. She raises a trembling hand, reaches out to touch the metal - but her legs give out before she can make contact. She falls to her knees, hunching over and wrapping her arms around her torso.

“Ma’am?” One of the figures ask. “Are you alright?”

“Of course she’s not alright,” The other replies sharply, and there’s the crunch of approaching footsteps before the figure kneels before her. “Ma’am, can you tell me - oh Light above.”

“What is it? Jing?”

“Contact the Caldwell sector!”

“What? Why-”

“Just do it!”

A weight drapes itself across her back, and she’s quick to pull it closer. She’s made it. She’s made it. She’s made it.

The Caldwell heiress has come home.

Hey, y’all, sorry for the repost! The original post didn’t work on tumblr for some reason? So I’m hoping it’ll work this time around! Shoutout to Hunter for making me aware of this issue!!

Taglist: (lmk if you wanna be added or removed!): @cilly-the-writer, @kiyotaki, @magic-is-something-we-create, @indeliblewrites, @linariouswrites​

[gdotsand]

The Fastest Way Back Home - Prologue

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader (Post Infinity War) 

Summary - A collection of memories sprinkled along the road to regain what she lost. 

Word Count -1,400 (ish) 

Playlist Link - Link (will be updated as more chapters are added) 

Warnings - Sadness. Angst. Bad jokes regarding muffins. 

A/N -  I really wanted my first published Bucky series to be happy, I really did. I fought my brain so hard but this was the first work in progress it allowed me to finish for him. I’m sorry in advance? I honestly get physical chest pains from writing this story because it also makes me sad but I will promise you happy endings and it wont (hopefully) all make you wanna curl into a ball and listen to sad songs. Likes, reblogs and feedback is always appreciated. Also big shoutout to Lara (it wont let me tag you), thank you for encouraging me to post this finally and listen to my ramblings. You’re the real MVP. Thank you - G.Sand 

Present 

He'd always said that the water calmed him, the darkness lapping against the small dock. One of the main reasons he'd thrust a pros and cons list into her hand the night after viewing the house. Top of the list, the water.

There were many other things on the list, a tree that seemed like it had grown specifically for a treehouse to be constructed against the thick branches.

A living room big enough if they pushed back the furniture he would be able to twirl her around barefoot as the record player in the corner softly played old country vinyls her grandfather left her when he passed.

A wrap around porch, sure it needed some work, some of the slats have fallen though, but he promised to replace them, whitewash them and share lazy Sunday afternoons drinking fresh lemonade and watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon.

It felt like a life time ago, sometimes, most of the time it felt like a fever dream. Calloused fingers against her jaw line, the slipping of a golden band onto her finger, her doing the same for him. Bright smiles and her mother softly wiping the tears from her cheeks. Promises of forever and always, promises of a future beyond the hurt and loss that lingered deep within his bones.

Promises of all perfect and beautiful things that would now never come true. Promises of a life away from bloodshed and fear. Away from anger and torment. Everything turned to dust that day, breathy whispers at some ungodly hour, promises, commands, vows, everything including the man she loved turned to dust, and she had no idea.

Sometimes she could pretend, pretend he was on a regular mission, or he'd gone out to a meeting or to the store. Because he was ever present in her home, their home.  The photos that adorn the walls, his jacket is still on the hook by the door, weapons safe still locked. It can only be opened by a retinal scan that now didn't exist in the world. Tony he said he can override it, find a way to disable his own systems but she declined. What was the point anymore? What was the point in anything anymore?

So she looks out at the water. Watches as the sun starts to set, another day has been added to the tally marks somewhere etched into the walls of her brain. Filed away, so she wouldn't be able to recall an exact number if asked, but still enough to keep a permanent hole in her chest since that day. Its been almost five years, and Betsy is bordering on her birthday, and she wants, she prays that she can believe that Betsy is a happy child but it always feels like something is missing. Its in the depths of her eyes, in the dark curls that sit on top of her head a question that will forever go unanswered, at least not completely. Because no sweetheart your daddy isn't coming home and no bugs he was never home to begin with. Not really, not with both of his girls. So she take things day by day and who can blame her? Honestly what else do people expect. Not that theres many people left to judge her that is. So to hell with it.

If he was here, he'd tell her to buck up. She knows that, but even Tony dare not make that joke. He'd tell her that everything happens for a reason and that everything will work out in the end. But thats Bucky all over, and Bucky isn't here.

The light shifts into something reminiscent of artwork purple and oranges splayed across the horizon, and a smooth pebble is thrown into the icy darkness, it skips across the water at speed and disturbs the darkness, but eventually like everything else the ripples dissipate into nothingness again.

"See kiddo, it's all in the wrist" Tony says, and Betsy listens, she idolises her uncle Tony more than he can know however it's not lost on anyone else. Eager to please Betsy takes the second stone from his outstretched palm, skims it across the surface of the water and it bounces once, twice, three times before eventually sinks, and Betsy squeals as she hoisted into the air in celebration. Y/n could listen to the sound of her laugh till her dying day and never get bored of hearing that little girl enjoy the freedom of happiness, but y/n? She allows herself a smile and turns back to the water, because you know, it always said it calmed him.

Steve approaches slowly behind, careful not to make her jump in the process, spends a good minute or two just watching her. She's never been the same since the snap, okay, no one has been the same since the snap but out of everyone, he thinks that maybe y/n had it the worst. And sure he may be being an overdramatic asshole as Buck might have said once upon a time but Buck's not here to reprimand him. Even if he can hear his taunt somewhere far away, carried on the winds that come from wherever he is.

"He was right you know"

Steve hums at her as a response, an explanation waiting on the other-side of her tongue that for some reason needs to know that Steve is listening before y/n continues.

"It's pretty fucking calming when you think about it"

He hums again, but it's more of an amused tone.

"I came to talk to you specifically before we do this" he says, always a man to get right to the point is Steve Rogers, there is no proverbial bush and he'll be damned if he beats around it.

"Well I assumed you didn't come here just for my muffins Steve"

"You're a married woman can we not talk about your muffins"

"Ah, no one is talking about my muffins these days" and then earns her a chuckle at least. She's always had a way with words like that, always been the one to crack the jokes. First to make light of a situation that really doesn't need it.

"We can get him back, well" he swallows but continues "we can get all of them back, but we're going to bring him back y/n"  

Y/N rolls her eyes and takes a couple of steps off the dock towards the house, "Don't make promises that you can't cash Rogers i'm not in the mood" she throws over her shoulder. It only takes half as many steps for Steve to catch up and stop her with a hand on her shoulder. There are already tears in her eyes, and it's a knee jerk reaction. Because she remembers the day that Steve had made that promise to her before, years ago.

5 Years Ago 

The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that strikes fear like a match in the pit of your stomach. The hollow feeling that just something, somewhere isn’t right. There are no books to read, no work to be done, no shows to watch and no mindless task that she can do that will keep her brain from thinking the inevitable. It’s always the case yet it never gets any easier.

Washing done, book shelves back into the correct organisation system. Dinner being planned in her subconscious because she has to keep that hope, that preyer that there will be dinner. There will be another set of feet under the table, a light too minimal conversation to be had and a head on the pillow next to hers at the end of the day.

But then there’s gravel crunching under tires, there’s one, two, three car doors being slammed and three pairs of out of sync footsteps growing closer to the front door. Three sets of footsteps isn’t good. She knows this. She knows as she crosses to the front door, pulls it open and meets the eyes of his best friend. Although she had known that at some point, this day might come, it makes the horror no less scary. It doesn’t make the gravel any less sharp on her knees as her breaths come quicker and Steve arms aren’t quick enough to react. To catch her before she falls.

She can see it reflected in the gaze of Nat that he’s not coming home, that something terrible, something unimaginable has happened.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat that he prayed wouldn’t be there by the time he got out of the car.

“We’ll get him back Y\N. We’re going to bring him back”

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

A Death By a Thousand Cuts Would Be Easier

Summary: A brief history of some of the moments concerning Bruce Wayne that Selina Kyle will remember until the day she dies.

Author’s Note: So, a bit of an explanation of how this whole thing works. The italicized headers are each things or phrases from the bridge of the stunning “Death By a Thousand Cuts” by Taylor Swift. Under each header is a drabble (none are exactly 100 words, so please forgive me) that is in some way connected with whatever the header is. They are not in chronological order, but hopefully it shouldn’t be too confusing. There are also some shoutouts to some of the wonderful Batcat Fam sprinkled throughout the story as a sort of thank you for being such amazing friends. Also, thank you to Itzel for clarifying what dances Bruce may have actually learned in Mexico.

A Death By a Thousand Cuts Would Be Easier

Looking back on it, Selina gave a lot of things to Bruce Wayne. And when he left, each of those things cut her as they left with him. Her heart, her trust, her love all cut her as he flew away on a plane that didn’t have a seat on it for her. The wound he gave her when he left wasn’t what had nearly killed her. It had been the thousands of cuts those pieces of her had left.

My Heart

Selina’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. Obviously she knew that wasn’t possible, but it felt like it. She hadn’t even been a tenth as afraid as she was now when they had been fighting that stupid fence to try and get the necklace a hour ago. But making her next request was probably going to be the most terrifying thing Selina had ever done.

“Will you return it?” Selina asks, putting the pearl necklace on the table.

She couldn’t bear to do it herself. The very idea of walking into the house where Ivy had killed that scientist and acting like returning a stolen necklace was the same thing as bringing back the woman’s husband made Selina want to run and hide for the rest of her life. When she weighed the cost of returning the necklace herself against the terror that would accompany asking Bruce for such a personal and vulnerable favor, her fear of facing the woman whose life and necklace she had stolen was just ever so slightly more terrifying. She could trust Bruce to take her heart and not destroy it, but there was no way she would trust herself to return a necklace to a woman whose heart had been eviscerated while Selina took her pearls.

My Hips

Bruce claims he learned how to salsa when he was in Mexico. Selina thinks he’s lying but has no proof to back it up other than that a trip to Mexico does not fit into the timeline she’s working on forming of the past ten years of Bruce’s life since he skipped town. But, his salsa dancing was really good. Like, really, really good. It seemed insane that Bruce had left Gotham a decade ago unable to do much more than a basic waltz and returned a master of just about every style of dance they’ve encountered at galas thus far. Filing away a mental note to interrogate Bruce later about his new found dancing ability, Selina returned to focusing on the mission, searching the room for Penguin.

That is until Bruce moved his hands from her back and down to her hips and any hope she had of looking at anything other than Bruce’s eyes flew out the window.

My Body

Lying paralyzed in a hospital bed as she heard the sounds of Gotham falling to pieces around her was a nightmare so horrible Selina couldn’t even have imagined it. She still wakes up every couple of hours with a jolt and, sometimes, a scream from dreams that seem so real she expects Jeremiah to be the one grabbing her and not Bruce or Alfred or one of the nurses. It had been a week since everything had collapsed in on itself and her world had been torn apart by a bullet and the bombs that blew the bridges and she was only just now beginning to reach a point where she was willing to talk to Bruce. It was stupid to blame her new, useless body on him because he wasn’t the one who pulled the gun’s trigger. He hadn’t made her go to the manor that night. He hadn’t forced them to be friends. He hadn’t made her lie about seeing who killed his parents. But if she didn’t blame him for the bullet that might as well have ended her life, then the only person left in this hospital to blame would be herself. And, at the end of the day, it was better to believe she’d given up her body, her freedom, and her life for the boy who had spent the last 96 hours in a hospital chair next to her than to think about how all the choices that had led her to this moment were her own.

My Love

For a young woman whose entire appeal is that she slinks in and out of people’s lives like a cat with absolutely zero emotional connection to those she interacts with, Selina loves a surprisingly large number of people, places, and things. She loves to play with the cats who frequent her apartment. She loves the little Mexican bakery around the corner from Cornelia Street. She loves her collection of black leather jackets that has only continued to grow. She loves Gotham and punk music and greasy, cheap pizza and the way the sky turns pink as the sun sets and rises each day. But, and this is a fact she buries so deep down inside that it only has a chance to surface when she stays still for more than a handful of seconds, she loves Bruce Wayne at least as much as all of those things combined. She never really told him when he was in Gotham and she swears she’ll never tell him even if he comes back one day, but it’s a small fact she keeps tucked away and it makes her heart just a little bit more full than it was before.

Like a Bad Drug

Selina hadn’t done drugs before. It was a bit ridiculous considering she was 18 and had been living on the streets her whole life. Most kids with stories like hers got their first taste of drugs before they were 10, but Selina’s ability to pick pockets and get in and out of places undetected required her to be sober, so drugs had been firmly off the table. Other kids could be high and still get by, but if she was even the littlest bit not completely in her own head, any attempts she made to steal things would be a catastrophe.

Selina hadn’t done drugs before, but she also hadn’t been abandoned by Bruce Wayne without a good-bye beyond a small note before. Well, there’s a first time for everything, Selina thought as she snorted the white powder.

In a Haunted Club

Rumor has it that Bruce Wayne is in England. No one has any proof, but there are pictures of an heiress named Kayliegh wandering London with a guy dressed in all black who if you look at the picture from exactly the right angle and have no idea what Bruce looks like, could be the missing Wayne. But Selina actually knows what Bruce looks like, has memorized every line of his face and can still hear his laugh sometimes as she falls asleep. But the tabloids with the pictures were everywhere today and she’s tired of hearing his name whispered by Gothamites everywhere she goes.

So she heads to the Sirens and hopes the sound of the club will drown out the idea that maybe he had moved on and maybe he was in London and maybe she wasn’t part of his story anymore. The alcohol doesn’t help her shake the feeling that a ghostly Bruce Wayn is watching her from just outside of peripheral vision, but that’s not enough to dissuade her from taking another shot.

Our Songs

Once upon a time, Selina had tried to learn to play the ukulele. Someone had thrown the instrument in the trash when she was about seven and Selina had picked it out of the dumpster. It had been painted blue with a picture of a flower on it and she had plucked at the strings and dragged it along with her for a couple of weeks. In the end, it had been abandoned one day when she had to run from the police who were very intent on bringing her back to St. Maria’s. It had just been another one of her dreams that got discarded on a Gotham street, just like she had been.

A decade later she’s stuck in a hospital bed and the doctors are talking about how she needs to adjust to this new normal and that there are plenty of new skills she can learn that don’t require her to actually move much. Selina only half listens to them because the other half of her mind is occupied with trying to think of a reason to keep on going. Bruce brings her a ukulele the next day because he figures it’ll keep her mind off of the impending surgeries and that if she can at least learn one song maybe the doctors will stop hovering as much. They learn how to stumble through “Mary Had a Little Lamb” together and even though Selina doesn’t put any of her heart into the song, Bruce is enthusiastic enough for both of them.

Our Films

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen Star Wars?” Bruce is 15 and completely incredulous. Selina is curled into a ball on the couch, completely and utterly unperturbed by Bruce’s impending, Star Wars-induced breakdown.

“When was I supposed to have the time to sit down and watch a bunch of movies? It’s not like I have tons of downtime to spend watching Spock hit people with laser swords.” Selina gestures impatiently for the bowl of imported European chocolates by Bruce’s left hand while Bruce blinks in shock at his friend.

“Well, you have time now. I hope you’re comfortable because you’re not leaving here until you understand how wrong you are when you say that Star Wars is about Spock hitting people with laser swords.”

“Whatever. But if I’m going to be stuck here for eternity you better hand me that chocolate before I smother you with a pillow.”

Bruce hands her the candy and joins her on the couch as the opening crawl appears on the screen. What he doesn’t know is that Selina has a secret: She’s seen every second of Star Wars multiple times before, but she figured that a Star Wars marathon would be the ideal way for her to try every sweet in the Wayne manor. No one could say that Selina couldn’t play dumb when it suited her.

United We Stand

The Year the Bridges Blew always feels a bit like a dream when Selina looks back on it. She can’t quite pinpoint many details from the year and so much of it seems to fade when she thinks about it too hard. Granted, if it were up to most of the citizens of Gotham, that year would be erased from everyone’s mind so that they could all move forward without the looming fear that one day they will be trapped in their city again.

But there are some memories from that time that Selina wouldn’t erase. She likes to revisit the summer evening she spent one day with Bruce, lounging on a rooftop, watching some teens below trying to set off fireworks. Despite the kids' shouts, the claps of the fireworks, and the general noise that always seemed present in Gotham and hand only gotten louder since the bridges blew, the moment felt quiet. She had slipped her hand into his as a red firework had started and sputtered out and for a single, glorious evening she really felt that she had a teammate. Someone who would still be there the next morning and the morning after that and so on until they had no more mornings to wake up to. In that moment, she felt united with Bruce in a way she never had before. You’d have to offer her a fortune larger than the Waynes’ to get her to give up that memory.

Our Country, a Lawless Land

Gotham was Selina’s city. This fact was the only one she knew so well that it felt like it was ingrained in every muscle and sinew and bone and ligament in her body. She had been born here, had grown up here, had been abandoned here, had been killed by Jeremiah here and then brought back to life here. To try and separate Gotham from Selina would be like trying to separate a single thread from an intricate tapestry. It might be possible, but why would you even bother?

That’s why, no matter how hard she tries, Selina can’t understand why Bruce left, why he always kept leaving Gotham. They built their relationship on the sound of their feet running on Gotham’s street. They had laughed together on Gotham bridges. Had shouted and whispered declarations of love with Gotham’s skyline as their backdrop. Every single part of what made them them was entrenched in the city. And, somewhere in the back of her mind, Selina realized that if Bruce could leave Gotham, the city that had made him, then that meant he could leave her too.

Our Paper-Thin Plans

“I think I’d want a house with a window seat.”

“A window seat? Out of all the things a house could have, your request is for a window seat?”

“Yeah. I like them.”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the window seats back home?”

“Yeah, if you and Alfred aren’t bothering me that’s usually where I am.”

“How have I never noticed this? Alfred, did you know that Selina loves window seats? … Okay, how did everyone know this but me?”

“Maybe your powers of observation just aren’t as good as you think they are.”

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll make a note that when we rebuild the manor to add in more window seats.”

“You better or else I might have to find some other billionaire to hang out with because window seats are a deal breaker in this whole thing.”

My Time

Selina’s time is a valuable commodity. Every second she’s spending doing something is a second she could be casing a jewelry store or picking pockets downtown. But, sometimes even a young thief needs a night off. Selina’s plan is simple, she’ll feed her current cats- Isis and Coco- and then take a shower before eating some Chinese from the place across the street that always has just a bit too much food left over come closing time.

At least that was the plan before Bruce Wayne knocked on the door (He knocked. Like she paid rent for the place.) and asked if she was up to anything. Of course, when she planned on a quiet night, Bruce wanted her to keep him from dying on some fool’s quest. She only rolled her eyes once before grabbing her leather jacket and heading out the door. She’d always have time for him.

My Wine

Selina doesn’t usually drink wine. She’s had a variety of them, ranging in cost from a couple of bucks to more than a year’s worth of rent, and she honestly hasn’t liked any of them. But a couple of times a year since she’s turned 21, she gets a small invitation in the mail inviting her to a quiet dinner at the new Wayne manor. Alfred always pulls out a bottle of what he promises her is good wine and they usually finish it by the time dinner is pushed to the end of the table and desert is being savored. Sometimes the invitation is for a special date, like Christmas or Alfred’s birthday, but other times there is no rhyme or reason that Selina can discern for the dinner. This time the invitation comes and is signed by both Alfred and Bruce and a not small part of Selina is bitter that Bruce is trying to infringe on the bond that she and Alfred forged in, and because of, his absence. She doesn’t show up on the appointed date and instead hacks the Wayne bank account and makes a very generous donation to a local animal shelter in Bruce’s name. Alfred sends her a bottle of wine a few days after they were supposed to meet that he claims is spectacular. She can’t taste the difference between it and the box wine she bought one time.

My Spirit

Selina’s birthday is either December 1st or December 3rd. Maria says it’s the 1st, but all her official documents cite it as the 3rd. Selina knows it’s weird to not really know her birthday, but it’s not like she grew up with birthday parties so it never really was an issue. But then she accidentally reveals that she has two birthdays to Bruce when they’re 13 and suddenly these previously mostly meaningless days in December are arriving with more pomp and circumstance than she had ever anticipated.

They throw a party on the 1st with games and food and gifts at the manor. Alfred prepares all the fanciest foods and Selina is asked to wear a dress to the party. (She does, but she complains about it the whole time.) It’s a fun, if strange event, and Selina enjoys herself. But then the 3rd rolls around and she returns to her apartment exhausted from running all over town in the snow to find Bruce with an enormous pile of take out from at least half a dozen of her favorite restaurants. He’s brought a projector and some movies and pillows and blankets. They make a pillow fort before settling down with the food. Snuggled beneath a pile of blankets, with some old movie about a guy in a wheelchair spying on his neighbors from his window, Selina has a shining moment where she truly understands peace. For once her mind, her spirit, her body, her heart, every part of her, feels completely at peace. It’s the best birthday gift anyone could have given her.

My Trust

She doesn’t wear the ring on her finger for a multitude of reasons. It could get lost or she could scratch herself or it could get caught on something or it could be noticed by someone and then the whole world might know about the secret Selina had been carrying around for about two weeks. It isn’t that she is ashamed or embarrassed about the engagement, but she likes the idea that this particular moment is being shared only with the people she trusts to treat it with love and kindness. She knows that the world, that Gotham, will pry and pick at the happiness her engagement is giving her, but if she keeps the ring on a chain around her neck, close to her heart, then maybe she can keep this beautiful moment going just a bit longer.

A Thousand Cuts

The bells ring louder than she had expected but the crowd of people are even louder. Selina’s still not used to the public side of being connected with this new Bruce Wayne, but she loves the private part of him too much to be dissuaded by camera flashes and people shouting his name. As they race from the the entrance of the church (Martha and Thomas got married there, so Bruce felt getting married there was the closest he’d get to having his parents at his wedding) to the open car, she focuses on the rhythmic ringing of the bells, blocking out the shouts and questions and rice that is being thrown at her. And each ring seems to to call out to her:

Bong! Don’t give up on him.

Bong! He’s got you.

Bong! He may have cut you a thousand times…

Bong! But he’ll heal you a thousand and one.

[frogmanwritings]

Teen Titans 42 Review

Teen Titans 42 is now out, so I figured I might as well do a write-up of my thoughts on it. This will, quite obviously, have spoilers in it for the issue, so don't read this unless you don't mind being spoiled or have already read.

First thing that I do want to note that, right away, the art quality is great. While I will miss the work of Bernard Chang and remain glad that he still does the covers for however many more issues he has left, the work of Javi Fernandez is definitely a welcome replacement,. Not as colory or cartoony as before, it embraces something more realistic and gritty, and I think it'll certainly benefit in the future for the upcoming storylines involving Damian and Batman looking to lead to a big crash, plus, ya know, the murder of a blood-obsessed cult leader. And that's not without mentioning some of the beautiful panels displayed, like the one involving Roundhouse and Crush together, the shot of Robin looking down the manhole, among others. And shoutouts to Khary Randolph too for his work with the variants. Just beautiful stuff and really makes me want to grab a variant edition.

But onto the actual story, it was... good. I'm not sure who's idea it was in DC to hide the death of Brother Blood from everyone, including the solictations, but it was something that definitely caught me off-guard and made things more interesting to read on. There's been some criticism thrown the way of Adam Glass for his writing, but I still liked the overal story he produced and the foundation left off by him, and Robbie is transitioning things quite well, while also adding his little spices for things. For example, Roundhouse seems to always have a good reference in him, be it Supernatural, Bob Dylan and now in this issue, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles(though I'm not sure if Killer Croc would go for a slice). And really, while the topic is on Roundhouse, he is a personal favorite of mine in DC right now and he was utilized quite in this issue. His connection with Crush, his unfortunate butting in on his best friend trying to ask out Emiko(along with the references of course), and then his infectious joy during the fight with the Church of the Blood(and his comedic fear when the cops showed up). Really liked what he did with him and would be very happy if he was utilized like this in the future.

As for the others, Robin's darkening was done well here. Instead of focusing on him imprisoning and mindwiping criminals, it was more focused on the 'Whys' he became the way he did, with flashbacks to his time with Alfred where it really felt like it was moments with the wise elder that he took for granted. He is the prime suspect in the death of Brother Blood, given the blood on his hands in the cover, as well as him referencing his 'next move' before the news hit. Will it turn out that he did do it? Seems unlikely, but he's really the only face one can focus on right now as to who, other than pure speculation and perhaps even a look at solictations. Will KGB turn out to be the one who did it, given how it seems that he and Robin are set for a clash next month? Maybe, but speculation and theory is always fun to have.

Crush's writing meanwhile seems to fit her pretty well. One that will turn her feelings of loss into anger and recklessness, displaying quite the uncaring for Brother Blood and even trying to pass off her liking to anyone else on the team, even when she does seem to care, like when visiting Billy to check up on him. Out of the three new characters created, she certainly has the most potential to make it big in the next years and it helps that her character has been quite consistent and good overall.

Now, with Emiko and Wallace, it's been alright. I'm no frequent reader of Green Arrow or the Flash, so this series has been my first taste on them. They're decent enough characters to fit the roles on the team, with Wallace trying to act as the 'Good Cop' out of him, Emiko and Damian, while Emiko acts almost as a mentor to Damian, sharing his lookout but not quite to his extent. And really? A romance wouldn't hurt, but it's not quite something I'm looking for to. There were tries before to get Wallace a romantic partner in the form of Raven, but those feelings seemed to disintegrate once No Justice rolled around and the two were seperated and fans generally forgot they were a thing. There's a chance that it could happen here as well, depending on how far they go with this line. And right now, the writing isn't quite lending me to want the two to get together, other than perhaps for the sake of a emotionally bound Emiko and to get her to express herself more.

Overall though? It's a good issue, certainly. I had my fun reading it, speculating on the future, admiring the art, etc. The new people involved have certainly helped making the transition smooth, and I am quite looking forward to how they move on with this, as there is a lot to look forward to!

Oh, and a last thing. Why is Mama Wu so YOUNG now?

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

The third chapter is here, folks! :) The story unfolds itself slowly but surely. (NSFW)

A shoutout to my lovely beta @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur <3 Thank you for sharing this journey with me and for your kind words of encouragement.

So from now on, you guys don't have to bear with my mistakes any longer :)

❤

As always it’s available on AO3.

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

CHAPTER III: Catharsis

Mess was something I was afraid of. I remember my mother always saying that sometimes I'm too emotional and irrational. So I've learned how to be organized and keep everything in order, including my emotions. I had to. I was a surgeon and could not allow my feelings or temper overtake me. Claire Beauchamp who knows what to do. Years of learning made me a perfect example of a control freak. I could be a coach giving lessons on how to hold your shit together. But, it was a facade, a mask put on for work and strangers, for the patients who needed to have a Dr. Beauchamp who has everything under control. My true nature did not always correspond with the show I tried to sell.

Since I bumped into that tall Scot, the last little thread I held over my inner world was slipping out of my fingers. Then there was a law of inertia. I was balancing on the edge before falling down to the abyss of the unknown.

I returned home with an unsatisfied ache in my belly, between my thighs, behind my closed eyelids, and on my swollen kissed lips. I jumped into the hot shower furiously scrubbing down myself to wash off the smell of the pub, the street, (and his cologne that traveled with me home) off my skin. I've spent a good twenty minutes standing under the shower trying to reclaim the power over the situation that was running away from me as quickly as the water into the drain below my feet. I inhaled and exhaled (the way they taught us at yoga classes which Geillis made me go).

My fingers traced the bottom lip where I could still taste him. Get a grip, Beauchamp.

When I just crossed the threshold, Geillis's number was shining on my screen before I even could take shoes off of my aching feet. "I hoped ye willna pick up." She mumbled mouth fulll, chewing on something crispy.

"Ye did so I reckon yer not with him?"

"Nah".

"Was he that bad?"

I shook my head as if she could see me. 

"No, not at all. At the beginning of the evening, I couldn't guess if he's just a confident prick who's trying to get into my knickers or not but now I don't know." 

After a detailed description of the date to Geillis, I strolled down to the bathroom. “Maybe he didn't like me?" I asked thoughtfully, trying to get rid of mascara that has imprinted into the delicate skin, which now was turning red.

"He'd better get into yer knickers"  Geillis snorted. "But I think the lad likes ye well enough, only he has decided to teach ye a lesson after Lallybroch or he's being a gentleman. If he wanted to get ye laid he'd done it this evening."

“Is it a good or bad thing?" I asked pulling my jeans down.

"I dinna ken. I'd say ye invite this Jamie over to dinner and see for yourself".

Grabbing Adso under my armpit on the way to the bedroom, my phone came alive with a loud ringing (Jesus, I have to change that ringtone). Already planning what I might say to Geillis (remembering all swear words I knew) I almost pressed Accept but stopped right in time, seeing "James" on the screen. I stared at my cell phone long enough to read now "Missed call".

I had texted him while in the cab "Home. Safe and sound." He replied what appeared in a second "Good. It was a bonnie evening."

I crossed my legs sitting at the end of the bed, watching Adso bury himself under the duvet. Why has he called?

I spent about ten minutes before my fingers finally hit the Call button.

"Jamie?"

"Claire"

He said my name in a way that made my toes curl and my heart race a marathon. The soft vibrating "R" and a hint of an accent turned just Claire into something more special than I could imagine.

 I heard a quiet rustling of the sheets and his quiet breathing before I spoke. That made me wonder how he looked in bed. Did he sleep on the right or left side of the bed? Was he a light sleeper or not? What did he dream?

"Is something amiss?" I bent my neck holding the phone between my ear and shoulder.

"No. Just wanted to hear ye voice again."

"Oh." I gasped. I bit down on my lip but nonetheless could see a stupid smile on my face reflecting in the window.

"I dinna wake ye, Sassenach?" I heard him shift, getting comfortable and tried to imagine what he looked like. Was he tangled into the mass of bed sheets and blanket, sitting upright in the dim bedside light. Or maybe laying down, one hand up, elbow supporting his head, chest rising and falling with his quiet breathing.

"No. I was just getting ready for bed."

Adso's grey head popped out of the duvet. My companion looked at me tentatively and climbed up onto my knees with a loud "Meow."

"Ye have a cat?” I was sure I could hear him smile.

"Uh uh". I mumbled stroking Adso's furry back.

There was a pause for what seemed an eternity before Jamie asked quietly.

"Can I meet the wee cheetie?"

* * *

That night, Jamie and I had agreed on what he simply called "a real date" I could not sleep. I was vaguely aware of the lonely cars passing down the streets, drunk gangs of students singing and screaming in the park across the way, I could hear my neighbour's TV speaking. I fell asleep by 5 am feeling absolutely drained. I took extra shifts for the next couple of days (to clear my head from him) and felt thoroughly exhausted. So now when my phone buzzed, I startled almost kicking a cup of Earl Grey off the table.

"What's yer drink of choice, Sassenach?"

"Make it wine. Red"  I quickly typed back rushing to my fridge. (what goes with red wine? Geillis and I never had this problem mixing up takeaway of all kind with a bottle of red)

"Sorted. 7pm, right?"

"See you."

"xoxo"

My cheeks blossomed into a rosy pink while I giggled at his last text. Adso glared at me from his windowsill perch, shook his head, licked his paw twice and jumped off heading to his bowl. That brought me back to my earlier task of the day to think of the menu for tonight. I had to fight an urge just to order from my favorite Italian restaurant and pretend I prepared it all. "Christ." I hissed examining the shelves of the refrigerator. Old curry takeaway, Brie cheese which was probably out of date, some leftovers from my attempt at the pumpkin soup and a pack of milk.

Next two hours I've spent tidying up my entire flat, doing several loads of laundry, changing the bedsheets to fresh crisp ones, and hiding away my Ikea plushy teddy bear that Joe got me last birthday as a joke. The kitchen was scrubbed down until the counters shone and all fridge food remains were thrown into the rubbish bin. Lighting scented candles that lived on the coffee table in the living room, I caught myself thinking I'm trying too hard.

Jamie would step into the house of Dr. Beauchamp - organized, clean and ordered. He wouldn't see two weeks piles of laundry needed to be done, he would not open the fridge and close it deciding to call a takeaway because he'd realize I'm a terrible cook. Jamie wouldn't laugh at me for sleeping with a toy in bed, nor he wouldn't know about the existence of "snack basket" full of crisps and Gummies next to my couch. He wouldn't know who Claire really is. Or would he? Did I want him to know?

After paying for the Waitrose delivery, I occupied kitchen with an unusual enthusiasm that didn't last long. I was a nervous wreck. My attempt at pasta Carbonara came out as someone's morning sickness and was sent straight into the trash. Cursing and praying to all existing Gods at once I've reminded myself that I wanted to keep this easy and fun. So pizza was the choice. Something that was hard for me to fail I still went through the recipe for the dough with surgeon precision. Popping the tomato sauce, spinach and white chunks of mozzarella on top, I glanced at the clock. Feeling the sweat sticky fabric of my shirt clinging to my back I sent pizza tray to the oven hoping Jamie likes Margherita. With Adso purring at my legs, I rushed to the shower mentally thanking myself for washing my hair the day before. Ten minutes later, wrapped up in a towel I was welcomed with a delicious smell of pizza lingering in my kitchen and satisfied with the outcome left to the bedroom.

The sudden doorbell buzz caught me just in the middle of dressing up. Hair looked as if an explosion happened on my head, with the only moisturizer on my skin while I huffed and puffed pulling on old jeans (the ones that lost all their blue from many washings). Grabbing the first jumper that fell out of the wardrobe and dragging it over my head on the way to open a door I prayed that Jamie wouldn't be all dressed up for the occasion. (why did he come twenty-five minutes earlier?)

My heart hammered in my chest and I had to take a few deep breaths trying to appear composed. He was casual. A simple white t-shirt with a leather jacket, the same tartan scarf, and jeans that looked as old as mine.

“I’m here.” His voice sounded low and hoarse.

“You are.” I swallowed a lump in my throat that seemed to suffocate me.

We stood in an awkward silence that stretched between us as the thousands of days, hours, minutes not spent together (yet?)

“Will ye let me in, Sassenach? I’ll freeze my bollocks off out here.” He smiled, the little wrinkles covered the sides of his eyes as the sun rays. I think I heard something in my heart shift.

The cold wind reached my bare feet and I moved aside just a little, letting him through. The familiar smell of his perfume (sea salt, amber wood and Italian cost) wrapped up around me when Jamie leaned to plant a kiss on my cheeks. One on the left, one on the right. I caught myself rising on my tiptoes for him as if I were a cat arching its back into his touch. Somehow it felt much more intimate than our full-mouth-greedy-tongues pub encounter. I watched him taking his jacket off, removing his boots and exclaiming happily “There ye are, wee cheetie” when Adso popped his grey head from the corner and strolled down to Jamie sniffing his hands. I leaned my back against the door thinking that it felt right. James Fraser in my apartment, crouched down on my floor, petting my cat who’s now was purring away. For a second there I wondered how it would feel to be touched by those hands. (is it normal to be jealous of your own cat?)

"I've made pizza. I did not know what you like." I announced, popping a cheesy slice on his plate, licking the grease glistening on my fingers. If it wasn't me kissing him just a couple days ago and flirting away then now I would have been very much offended by the look he gave me. As if he was ready to eat me alive right there, right now.

His gaze softened. (has anyone else on Earth had eyes this blue?)

"It's perfect. I couldna imagine a better option for a dinner than pizza".

It felt easy with him. There were minutes we ate in companionable silence, and minutes when we spoke, "clink-clink" of wine glasses interrupting our voices.

"So, I know horses are your hobby.But you still did not tell what it is you do for a living?" I looked at him over the rim of my glass. I watched him lick his lips, setting his pizza aside.

"I have a wee business with my uncles." Jamie took a sip, his Adam's apple bobbing under the skin as he swallowed. "It's a small beer brewery. Nothing verra special but sufficient enough."

"Beer is it?" I smirked. "I would think a Scot like you should be involved in the whisky business."

He grinned, glass in his hand, cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink.

"Well, I'm verra good at drinking it, no making."

When our dinner was demolished and plates covered only in crumbles and crusts (on my plate), I stood up bringing them over to the sink. My hands were almost elbow deep into the soapy water when Jamie had asked something that made my knees shake just for a moment.

"How come such lass as ye not married, let alone single?"

A heavy silence fell down, erasing our previous banter. Sensing my discomfort he added immediately "Claire, I dinna mean to be noisy". But I had told him anyway.

* * *

"But the main thing was that he had said I wasn't a woman if I could not give him a child. I was just an empty shell of female appearance, there was no much use to me." I inhaled deeply, feeling his eyes on my back when I finally finished. "Truthfully, I don't even know if I am really barren. I don't know who's at fault. Frank never went for a test and I...Well, I could not make myself do it afterwards."

I braced my hands on the opposite sides of the sink trying to compose myself. The swell of tears started to gather in my eyelashes threatening to escape.

"Sassenach."

I heard his quiet steps behind me and I shuddered a sigh thinking how did this evening (a promise of a good sex) turned into something that vaguely reminded me of a soap opera on TV that my neighbor Mrs.Baird watched.

I felt his fingers gently squeezing my shoulder.

"It doesna matter anymore."

"No." I sniffed. "It doesn't."

I turned to him then to be trapped once again by the studying gaze of his blue eyes which now were the reminiscent of storms at sea that promise clear skies. His long fingers brushed away loose curls off my face.

"Do ye need to be alone? Ye want me to go?" He asked softly, hands wrapping around my waist.

"No" I shook my head in protest, suddenly terrified he'd leave. " I don't want you to go."

He nodded.

"I willna. I promise."

On its own accord my forehead dropped against his chest and a sigh of contentment (I did not know was there) escaped my throat. We stood there in each other's embrace long enough for Adso to jump up on the counter to peek at Jamie and I with clear "What are you up to, hoomans?" written on its fluffy face.

"Netflix and chill?" I sniffed, the sound muffled by Jamie's t-shirt. He gave me a lopsided smile when I lifted my head.

"Ye ken what that means, right?"

"I do." I laughed rubbing my eyes, smudged mascara staining my hand.

We indeed watched Netflix. Sitting on a modest distance of each other, under the same plushy throw, still close for our fingers to touch. I was too aware of his presence and closeness that my back started to ache approximately 15 minutes after I sat straight up, afraid to move. But then the wine we drank started to kick in, my body (and mind) relaxing and by thirty minutes into the movie (The Notting Hill I'd made him watch), I found myself in the kingdom of Jamie's warmth, our thighs and hips pressed to one another, his hand wrapped up around my shoulder and my head rested just above his breastbone where I could hear his steady heartbeat. His chin rested on the crown of my head and I could feel his lips slightly brushing above but not kissing just yet. I did not know when and how I fell asleep. Lulled by Jamie's soothing presence I must have dozed off sometime after the credits rolled, last night shifts catching up with me.

I roused to a touch that faintly reminded me the butterflies' wings scattered across my skin. My eyes fluttered open when I could feel Jamie’s warm breath making my skin tingle.

The room was dark, dipped into the heavy night shadows with only thin moonlight sketching a path along the carpet. I had no idea how long I slept only to find myself still on the couch, Jamie’s smile lingering above me. I smiled back feeling his fingers softly caressing the sliver of skin between my jeans and sweater. My back arched instinctively to his touch. He leaned down to press his lips upon mine. It was a lazy kiss, unhurried in the way our mouths melted together, the way he tasted the fullness of my lower lip, the way our tongues sought permission and their slow dance continuing until we both were breathless.

Jamie was looking at me as if he'd seen me for the first time. I could see his eyes move, something faintly reminding me of a tenderness floating at the bottom.

"What?" My lips moved slowly, still numbed by his taste. I touched his cheekbone to see if it feels right for me, for him to do so. How many times would I repeat this simple move? Jamie's fingers had found my hand, turning it palm up.

"I think ye are beautiful, Claire. Verra." His thumb softly outlined my lifeline before he brought my hand up planting a kiss just in the center of it. That simple gesture made me surrender, undid me in fact. I could feel the hot bubbling sensation starting somewhere in my toes rising all the way up to my thighs, my belly, crawling inside my breasts and wrapping around my heart, taking a peek under my skin as if checking is it a suitable place to be here forever?

I dragged my lips over his clavicle that slightly stood out above the collar of his t-shirt, leaving a moist trail of my breath. He smelled earthy, slightly salty with a mix of his cologne. Jamie's breath was shallow and I shifted feeling my arousal build between my thighs. My own abilities to inhale and exhale properly failed me when his fingers dragged the woolen fabric of my sweater up up up until there was nothing to hide. I jerked involuntarily as his auburn curls tickling my skin when his mouth closed over the peak of the left breast. It seemed like a century passed by instead of minutes as his lips moved from one breast to another.

His hand splayed flat on my stomach drawing patterns up and down making me almost beg him to continue just a bit down where I wanted him to be. But before I gathered enough courage to do that his fingers slid under the waistband of my jeans, testing, teasing.

“Jamie” I pleaded with the voice that didn’t sound like my own.

“Do ye want me to stop ?” He asked softly kissing the corner of my mouth.

I did not know if “No” actually left my mouth, but only managed to cling to him in desperate anticipation of my own release. Sensing this, he seemed to slow down on purpose. His mouth hovered above mine, our breaths mixing up as he slipped his hand out (me whimpering in protest and him chuckling, the cocky bastard) to unzip the unnecessary piece of clothing. I raised my hips just enough for Jamie to pull them down to my knees. I was becoming lost in him, forgetting how to breathe. Needing to feel him, I reached for the hem of his t-shirt seeking access to his skin. He ignited a hunger in me, I needed to see him, feel the realness and closeness of him, to be in this moment for my life to have a meaning. Even if it meant just mere minutes.

Pulling the cotton fabric over his head my fingers traced the line of veins that ran along his arm until found where I had mended his flesh with the stitches I had placed. I leaned my head to kiss the spot where the scar would make its presence known. Jamie’s breath hitched and within seconds my lips were trapped by his once again. When we parted with a wet pop his fingers traveled south one more time pushing the grey cotton triangle between my thighs aside. My blood was rushing hot, heart hammering hard against my breastbone. So loud that I thought Jamie could hear. The promising warmth of his fingers drew a map on my inner thighs. Slowly tortuously from one to the other, traveling up to brush over my navel making me pant, and slippery with need.

“I want you inside me” I had whispered then, dragging my tongue over the stubble on his jaw.

“No, a nighean.” He sounded hoarse but dreamily sweet. “I want to watch ye first”.

If it was possible to become undone just from his words, it would have been then. His fingers drew another path, coming home, where I felt hot and greedy for him. I mewled, my hips rising into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders. I kept my eyes shut, fingers leaving marks on his skin, as he drove me down the road of pure sensation. Where my walls had crumbled and fallen down, where he had made me cry out God's name in vain. Where my trembling hands had managed to unbuckle his belt and in a swift motion pull his jeans down, Jamie's feet trapped in them, laughing hard. His moan that sounded more like a hiss when I ran my palm at the length of him, tagging his white boxers off. When all the sharp fences alongside my soul started to crouch down and fade away as our bodies joined. I gasped feeling the saltiness of tears rising up from my belly all the way to my throat because this felt like coming home, suddenly he felt like home. When the lonely tear had rolled down my cheek, into the hollow of my neck, to the fields of my curls (I did not know where it came from) I heard him whisper "mo ghraidh". It had no meaning for me but the way Jamie's lips imprinted those words into the column of my neck destroyed the last barricades I had built over my soft and sensitive, scarred heart.

After a time we were both gasping for air as fish landed on the shore his solid body pinning me down on the cushions. I whispered, "Jamie, you're crushing me".

He hummed a quiet apology. With eyes still veiled by an overtaking orgasm, he rolled off me and gathered me closer to him. His hands wrapped up around my waist, back pressed to his chest. I thought I heard him murmur something into my hair (that faintly sounded as ancient Gàidhlig) before after-sex slumber had taken us both to its realm.

* * *

The nagging ache in my lower back that I usually had from falling asleep on the couch (after a particularly hard shift at the hospital) was something that woke me up. I thought I was suffocating from the realness of the dream I had but it was just Adso who curled like a cinnamon bun on top of my chest.

I was alone. (not that I was really surprised)

But somewhere deep inside I felt a painful sting of bitterness to find myself in the reality of lonely-morning-post-one-night-stand. I reached for my phone with a stupid hope that maybe Jamie had texted me. Nothing.

"Looks like we are back to normal, baby" I sighed scratching Adso behind the ears.

The Edinburgh's skies were gloomy, heavy with a promise of rain. I stared into the window but did not really see anything behind it. The soft knock took me out of my stupor.

"I used the last of yer shampoo.I figured ye wouldna mind." Jamie stood in the doorway, his hair damp from the shower, now two shades darker, like autumn leaves.

My mouth dropped open as I just watched him casually stroll and make himself comfortable in the chair.

"And, Christ, Sassenach, but yer cat does fart like a freakin' raccoon."

"Does it?" I whispered.

[zachnovak]

So I don’t normally log onto this account much so I haven’t seen any of the many messages and such I’ve been getting on recent posts concern some dumb drama. In a nut shell, some adults who act more like immature children from the Mean Girls universe love to make crap up and I was the current target as I.... was breathing? I dunno. Apparently I’m the anti christ or something and they haven’t gotten over that their attempts to cancel me and even cause me to commit acts of self harm with continued targeted harassment and involving me in drama I know nothing about have all failed. Frankly, it’s because I literally don’t give a shit. I come to tumblr to RP, make my posts, and then hop on my PS4, switch, class work, gym time whatever. I don’t care about drama or what’s going on in the RPC as I know it’s a shot show filled with drama and people trying gossip girl type ‘takedowns’ of others just for breathing in when they were suppose to breathe out.

Because of that crap I literally just sign on to in the RPs I’m in then close the tumble tab. I do not have a personal, I do not check out any tags other than for the face claims I use to get pics or gifs, and I go out of my way NOT to know anyone’s personal blogs or their aliases. If we talk on discord great, if not, great as well. I do occasionally make my own group and put my current one on hiatus as the recent drama turned me off but going to reopen it soon. I’ve just been part of a couple of groups since and currently. However, since some people are interested in my past here because of the nonsense, here we go.

I was on an RP called alegendreborn which was one of my first RPs on tumblr. It seemed great and welcoming. I picked one of their skeleton canons and was happy to be there. I got along with people but didn’t know how to reblog properly as I was new to tumblr and three way posts were extreme confusing. Apparently my inability to properly reblog them pissed off some of the members. Because of that I only really talked to one person in the RP who helped me learn how to reblog correctly. Also, my character had a pre-established connection to another as a ‘best friend’ so we had a couple of threads. However, I quickly noticed the min of that character could go 3 weeks to months without posting but pass all activity checks and would focus on bubble RPing with the same three muns. When this person ignored our thread for weeks I sent them three messages four days apart each that reminded them of the thread which I was told they’d post. On the last message I told this person I was ending our thread and requesting that staff change my characters group in an event they were running as they put our characters in the same group and I no longer trusted this person to post in a timely manner to me. I was quickly ‘invited to leave’ and had multiple members message me on Skype to basically tell me I was shit and an awful person for trying to get a reply I’d been waiting 2 months to get. So I left and never looked back.

I later joined an RP called warofthenewage-rpg which again seemed friendly but much more basic lore wise than the previous RP. I quickly noticed a character who was almost EXACTLY like a skeleton canon I had on an RP I made on a jcink forums RP two years before. I messaged the player of that character asking if he knew of my RP he said he did but before I could presue anything he instantly wanted to plot my character with his. I did message the main about it but was later told they ‘never got it’. We plotted our character as a couple as the chemistry they were displaying in our first few threads was very apparent and we loved posting together and could pop out paragraphs of posts minutes after the other just posted. Eventually, that min begun to became very controlling of how and what I was posting. If my character had a thought of his that wasn’t postive or lovey, he’d berate the hell out of me on Skype and threaten to end our plot. Apparently he had also been complaining the his friends in the RP and told them I posted ‘too many actions’ and that it made him feel forced to react in specific ways. That telephoned to other members and morphed into I was forcing him to do exactly what I told him to post and poweplaying/god modding him. Now I come from forum RPs and there to post A LOT and you progress the thread with each post. This is done so you’re not 30 posts in and you’re characters are still at the door that one of them knocked on in the very first post.

Eventually, most members begun to refuse to speak to me because of the complaining he did which they’d snowball into some out of this world epic drama. The staff even begun to be hostile, use the gossip blog to belittle my character, and would pretend not to receive my applications when I tried for additional characters or my wanted ads but use the info to create a very similar character or ‘update’ an existing one. Well, about 2 months of members ignoring me or belittling me followed, staff made it worse and the mun I had a plot with decided to when not telling me I suck and no one liked me, he’d say we still had our plot but then took my character out of the equation and made another character take his place. Naturally I was upset as I had been through months of harassment, belittling, and treated like crap by everyone in the RP because of this guy only to in the end be thrown away. I resolved to move my character on. I only spoke to him and two other people in the RP and one of them had a character that was insanely into my character. However, the guy I had the plot with was insanely sexually attracted to the face claim so when my character and this new one had threads, he tried to tell the RP and even the other mun that I was forcing them into posting and into smutting which was engaged by the other person in one of our threads. I was harassed by that guy for days until I dropped that plot and basically used a ‘reset’ option for my character. However, that pissed off the guy and I again was relentlessly attacked by him on Skype. After months of the members ignoring me for (to my knowledge, no reason as I never spoke with 98% of the RP) or insulting me and out right telling me to kill myself, an attempt was made and I was effectively gone for almost two months for recovery.

Almost a year later I came back and begun to remake my old jcink RP here on tumblr. It took me about 5 months to do and I dug up codes from codepen and codrops to use in the theme. I also copied the aesthetic from the jcink RP’s theme and brought it over. The RP was very popular and seen as one of the best designed and story driven ‘mutant’ type RPs around. However, an admin from another RP became very bitter at it and me. This admin ran an RPH and had their own RP in the same genre in the past. They were revamping it and noticed our RPs had a similar aesthetic, apparently monchromatic themes AKA a them that uses shades of white, grey, and black for most of its coloring was only allowed to be used by that admin. The admin attacked my RP and claimed I had stolen their theme and coding and even went so far as going into my coding and pasting selective bits of it. I was asleep when she made the original post and woke up to dozens of anon messages ranging from calling me a thief to demanding I kill myself. All my members were harassed in the same way and she had contacted all the RPHs I had asked for a shoutout or was on their spotlights of to ‘inform them’ and then openly attack them if they didn’t remove any mention of my RP and signal boost her post. She even went so far as to harass and threaten RPs I was on, that I was one, or that had a character that sounded anything like any of mine. I even had an affiliation thing started but many of those I had been added to messaged me that they were being harassed and I told them to pretend they didn’t know what was going on. I’d take the hit for them and spare them farther harassment and leave their RPs if they wanted as I was on most of them.

During this time I was recovering from everything I was being slammed with be anons and the RPs previously mentioned going off as well in some pity attempt to get revenge for... not being liked on their RPs three and two years previously? I also was collecting evidence that many of the codes this RPH claimed she made and in stole were in fact on codrops and codepen. A good amount I made myself but a large chunk were from these resource sites with some heavy edits so they’d work better on tumblr. I even had evidence that many of her own coding templates had codes directly from these sites and others with no credit given to them and her claiming she created all the coding on her own. I submitted it to many RPHs and many of them saw the error and how this person was very toxic in the community and was making more drama than helping it. Some ignored it outright as she was popular and I was just a nobody. It took 3 years to recover from it in terms of my reputation and I again shut down my RP for a bit as I had made another attempt on my own life as that person and her friends continued to harass me and attack me on their personal or RPH accounts.

The last bit of drama came when I joined an RP called Corinth Bay. At first there wasn’t any and I had long since adopted my, sign on just to post and then bounce method of being on an RP. I eventually got to know one member named Shane. @inthenamexofthemoon I think we became pretty good friends as we talked everyday for basically the whole day. We had plots, enjoyed posting, and just chatting. I noticed that RP was heavily cliquey and wasn’t aware that Shane was a part of the admin’s clique. This group had multiple issues with member complaining their characters were being ignored and people were bubble RPing with the same people over and over. I myself had to constantly ask people if they wanted to plot or just post and even the main had to post up announcement about ignoring starters to make closed ones and expanding who they post with. I also had questions on much of the lore of the RP as other than the origins of each supernatural species, the lore was very generic and vague. I asked around and got a lot of different opinions on what could or couldn’t be done by each species and just went with what was common among them all. Shane himself helped me a bit and I went with his suggestions which apparently were completely wrong as the staff had to talk to me on ‘breaking lore’.

After that, I expressed openly how I felt the staff didn’t like me and my concern that given how cliquey the place was, if the staff didn’t like me I’d probably be ‘exiled’ from the group as a whole AKA no one would post or talk to me. Which did happen with the exception of Shane. Others I had spoken to had long left and told me stories of the awfulness of some of the members and staff. So I begun working on an RP of the same genre that I had half finished years before. Shane was kept in the loop every step of the way and pinned and loved all the lore I showed him which I did to ensure it was both in-depth and easy to follow but also wasn’t ‘bad’ IE, offensive if certain things are mentioned. He loved it and ensured me it was great and pinned everything I showed him so he’d reference it when making his characters. Eventually I worked on it so much that I kept only the bare minimum activity requirements for Corinth Bay but obeyed the rules of activity to the letter. However, the staff ultimately removed me despite even admitting that they knew I still had a couple of days before failing the activity check and had actually ‘not counted’ a couple of posts I made for an event going on as I should have replied to starters for it first but it wasn’t a requirement. Also they used a blog to post up starters as many RPs like to do now only they were also slow to reblog them and never used the starter tags so they’d get buried quickly on the dash with everyone posting picture posts and what not.

Ultimately I gave up on that RP, didn’t need the toxic environment and finished mine. Shane got very quiet though and didn’t reply to my discord messages for a couple of days. When he did he suddenly got a bit hostile and everything in my RP WAS ‘problematic’ and because of that he wouldn’t be joining. I had no idea what he meant as before he said it was perfect and awesome so I asked what he meant specifically. Eveutally he told me a little of what he meant. Apparently there was racism as In the witch’s page mentioning that voodoo and other cultural magical/practices was a form of magic some witches practiced was both racist and cultural appropriation. Although voodoo was indeed a magical/belief practice used as a magical practice I decided to just remove its mention in the end. He also didn’t like that in the lore, there were female characters that were ‘bad’ and that was sexist. This I choose not to change as it’s sexist to say women can’t be villains and felt as just an excuse. Especially since my lore included many powerful women, men, and gender less entities that were villains, heroes, and neutral parties.

Eventually after opening, I decided to message the people I had previous posted with telling them the RP was ready and I’d love for them to check it out. Those from Corinth Bay I messaged were either aware I was making one and wanted to see it or were people Shane and I hinted to it being made and they had at least a slight interest in it. Admittedly, I also messaged blogs that came on the ‘recommended blogs’ part of the dash. Only those that were inactive according to the last few IC posts that were showing in their blogs. I know this gets a mixed reaction from some as some view it as a horrible thing even if the blogs are inactive but many MANY people also appriecate it and the fact that someone read their blog and was very impressed with their writing ability and character. I myself receive many of these messages on my retired blogs and don’t see an issue with it myself. Even if I did I’d just block the blog that sent it and never think of them again like a normal person.

One of the members I DIDN’T even know who they were apparently didn’t like this and decided to make drama over it. To this day I don’t know who this person even is or was when I was on that RP and still don’t as everyone drops and makes new characters when bored on there. Shane went fully 180 on me and turned vile and petty which is clearly to save face with the people on that RP. He knows me from all our talks and that the bullshit he spreads is itself false but still was a bit of a pity bitch for a while. Apparently the friend @stephwuzhere @loganlcrmans of the admin that tried to cancel me also wanted to rehash that old drama but was quickly shut down. I had no idea who this person even was at first as again, I don’t follow any tags and go out of my way to avoid personal blogs and ones like RPH, RPT, and whatever unless just asking for a quick shoutout to my RP. I had no idea that this person was also very toxic and involved in targeted harassment, grooming, and identity theft of various people in the RPC just because she didn’t like them at the moment.

I have decided to stay away from this shit storm despite some of these people still trying to drag me into it even though I literally haven’t thought about them for months and barely even remember they exist. I’ll be reopening my RP soon and hope that these people who live their privlenged lives will eventually get over themselves and do some growing up. I say their are privileged because you must be if you can harp on drama for months and keep dragging someone you have no connection or knowledge of. The rest of us, adults, have things like work, bills, school, friends, and trying to destress from watching our bank account get more and more empty to care about pity immature online drama. Especially when it’s bullshit like ‘he dared to remind me he exists’. Please, grow up and do better people. There is life outside of the internet and when you get too old to be in the RPC which is apparently a thing now, you’ll see just how stupid you were to make so much drama for no reason other than being pity, stupid, immature, brats.