#they already knew by that point that bea was leaving

[megamindsecretlair]

Baby, I'm Yours

Pairing: Alex Cross x John Sampson x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, threesome, D/s lite, SMUT, PWP, PIV, oral (male receiving), hair pulling, praise kink, spanking, dirty talk, rough sex, orgasm denial, use of vibrator, rope, and blindfold, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. There is a tiny spoiler if you never read the books or watched the first episode.

Summary: You traveled often for work and it was rare to make it back home to D.C. But when you did, your first call was always to your very best friends, John Sampson and Alex Cross. Falling back into old routines, you reminisce over your college days. But, when things turn steamy, both men prove that they still have some tricks up their sleeves.

Word Count: 7,300k

AO3 Link

A/N: If you see this, no you didn't. Can you blame me????? The first five minutes broke me. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your hand paused on the restaurant’s doors as you caught a glimpse of your two favorite guys in the entire world through the glass. They never aged a day, both always looking good as the day you met in college. They had a little seasoning now but just looking at them had you out of breath.

John had let his beard grow out, nice and thick. Alex wasn’t too far behind, with a sheen on his beard from the overhead lights that just made him look extra delicious. These men…

You sighed and opened the door and a cold blast of wind hit you in the face, whipping up your hair. You fought with stray hairs as the hostess greeted you and asked for your name. “I’m meeting up with friends, they’re over there,” you said, pointing to your men.

Two of MPD’s finest and they were clueless that you had even walked in. They were engaged in some kind of intense conversation, heads bent towards each other. The hostess took your coat but you only had eyes for them. This. This was what you needed.

On the rare occasion you swung back home, your first stop was always them. Always. 

Finished with the hostess, you made your way through the new and hip restaurant that opened up. It catered to the yuppie Georgetown crowd with its distressed white brick, low ceiling, and mason jar candles on every table. It was supposed to give off old money vibes while remaining current. It only came off pretentious.

“I seem to have found two handsome men who have no business being single at their big ages,” you said by way of announcement. 

John and Alex had their heads ducked close to each other, but each lifted their heads at your announcement. John broke into a wide grin, immediately standing up and giving you a hug. He smelled so good, like honey bourbon and woodsmoke. His thick arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in the way you secretly craved. He made you feel tiny and delicate. Soft.

Alex was slower to get up, that rare grin on his face transforming him into someone more boyish. He stood up and tapped John on the arm. “Let our girl go. Hogging her and shit, man,” he said. 

He pried John’s arms off of you and you giggled while Alex took his turn hugging you. He smelled equally as delicious with something more subtle, more clean. You inhaled deeply and felt your body relax in the presence of two such strong men. 

Alex held out your chair for you and you sat down first, because you knew they wouldn’t until you did. There was a glass of wine already waiting for you. You looked between the two, narrowing your eyes.

John hid his grin behind his hand but you turned your attention to Alex. He lifted an eyebrow at you and you tapped the side of the glass. You lifted it and took a tiny sip, sighing in pleasure at the taste.

“Alex ordered this for me,” you said.

John slapped the table and laughed, looking between the both of you. “You just as bad as him. How did you know?” He asked.

“You have a tell, Johnny,” you said. 

John groaned playfully and rolled his eyes. “Beautiful, gorgeous, love of my life. What must I do to get you to stop calling me that?” He asked. 

You giggled and shrugged your shoulders. “Give it up man, she just likes the way you respond when she does,” Alex said.

You rested your chin in your hand and looked at him. “Are you trying to shrink me, Sugar?” You asked.

John laughed while Alex’s shit eating grin fell from his face. “Alright now,” he said.

“Oh, he can dish it out but can’t take it, huh?” You asked and laughed. A waiter swung by and handed you the menu. You googled the menu before you arrived. You didn’t want to dilly dally. You were only in town for a few days and you knew they were in the middle of a tough case. You didn’t want to miss a second of tonight.

“Alright boys, you know the drill. Drop them drawers,” you said. 

Johnny and Alex laughed, shaking their heads at you. You were oh, so, very serious but it was time to eat first. You all ordered your respective dishes, getting right back into the swing of things as if you never left Washington D.C. 

Alex and John regaled you with all the little things you missed. Things Jannie and Damon had gotten up to. 

“Yeah, Damon got accepted to early Mozart,” Alex said, beaming with pride. His little cheeks puffed out and you fell even more madly in love with him. 

“Get out, really!” You said. “Go head, Damon. I know that was Maria’s doing. She always played so beautifully,” you said. 

Alex’s eyes dimmed but it didn’t snuff out. Not like before. You looked at John who gave you a subtle nod. You took a sip of wine to hide your own nod of acceptance. Good. John had your boy’s back, as always. 

“She really did. He plays just like her,” Alex said.

“I’m so glad. Let me know if there’s ever a recital. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’ll catch a quick flight or train right back here for that!” You said. 

Your food arrived and you thanked the waiter. Steam rose off your lamb covered in a light gravy drizzle, with mashed potatoes with chives, and a vegetable medley. It smelled delicious and the taste was even better. You took a bite, moaning at the taste.

“That never gets old,” John said with a chuckle. He opted for a good old fashioned steak, nearly mirroring Alex’s plate down to the sear marks. 

“Oh hush. Ya’ll act like ya’ll don’t enjoy food too. Like when we were shit faced at three am trying to look for a taco spot,” you said.

“Oh, see, why you gotta bring that up?” Alex groaned, cutting into his steak. 

You giggled, pointing your fork at him. “Because a certain someone thought it’d be a great idea to sing in the quad,” you said. 

“She is never going to let you live that down,” John said with another chuckle. You looked at him and savored that deep chuckle. He was so damn fine, so warm, so welcoming. Your panties had been damp since the moment you stepped into the restaurant, but the more you spent in their presence, the more your panties were soaked. 

“Says the man who ran naked through said quad on a dare?” You asked and swung your gaze to him. John grimaced and dug into his food, muttering under his breath.

“You know, she fails to realize that she’s the mastermind behind all of these little dares and mishaps. Was it not her idea to get shitfaced at 3am instead of studying?” Alex asked, bringing a piece of steak to his mouth. 

He wrapped his lips around the fork deliberately, methodically, and your eyes dropped to his lips as he chewed. He even licked the corner of his mouth. Bastard. You shifted in your seat while John leaned back in his.

“Yeaah, and wasn’t she also the same one who dared me to streak?” He asked. He gave you an assessing look. The type of look that could probably melt the North Pole. You blinked innocently at both of them. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I offer suggestions. You two are grown. Little ole me can’t change your minds,” you said, making your voice extra sugary sweet. You took a tiny sip of your wine and cut into your lamb once more.

The table was so quiet, other sounds of the restaurant started to filter in. The clash of silverware on plates, cups hitting the table, chatter. You looked back up to see twin expressions of “bullshit” stamped all over their faces. 

You burst into laughter, hiding your mouth behind your napkin lest they see any food. Your stomach cramped from laughing so hard, pushing the napkin into your mouth to muffle your sounds. 

“Ya’ll gon’ get us thrown outta this fancy place,” you said.

“Us?” John asked.

“Girl, you must have our roles reversed. You have always been the dangerous one here,” Alex said. He leveled you with a stare hot enough to make heat flash through your body. Your thighs tingled so you looked away, allowing him that small victory. But your eyes only caught on John’s, whose eyes were on fire. You were pretty sure he was undressing you with the way his eyes slowly drooped down to your generous cleavage. Your dress grew a little tighter.

Your lower belly flipped with desire and you struggled to swallow. Did they turn the temperature up in the restaurant? Good god, you were not going to survive the night. You took a deeper pull from your wine glass. 

“I am the innocent one here. An innocent bystander in your shenanigans. A passerby, if you will,” you said. 

John and Alex shared a look before erupting into laughter, shaking their heads and mumbling to each other about the crazy things you got into as a youth. You waved your napkin in their direction.

“I can’t stand ya’ll,” you said with a giggle. 

You updated them on your work and the last few places you visited. You sat back after your meal with a contented sigh and draped the napkin across your lap. “I hadn’t stayed long enough in the past few cities to even visit anywhere. I was in New York last week, didn’t even make it to the museum,” you said and pouted.

“Whaaat? You didn’t get to visit a museum you’ve been to at least a hundred times?” John asked. 

“Shut up,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him. He lifted an eyebrow and you schooled your features, giving him a sweet smile. “It’s still one of my favorite museums, so yes, I have the right to be bummed.” 

Alex chuckled. “Do you remember when you came up with an entire, elaborate plan to break into the museum just to see the tattoo exhibit?” Alex asked.

“Can you blame me? Tattoos are art,” you said. 

John huffed. “Tattoos are a statement. Nothing more, nothing less,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and looked to Alex for help. “Will you get your boy?” You asked. 

Alex chuckled and waved off John. “We had some crazy times, didn’t we?” Alex asked looking between you and John.

“Crazy, amazing times,” John said, looking pointedly at you. You fingered the stem of your glass, trailing your nail against it. 

You grew unexpectedly shy, feeling as if this was somehow new and familiar all at once. Every time you all came together, it was like lightning in a bottle. You wanted to store it and stare at it, day after day. Night after night. Forever. Instead, you smirked at both of them. 

“We gotta create new memories too,” you said, finishing off your glass. 

“I like the sound of that. Sugar?” John asked, not even glancing at Alex. You did, however. You always worried what this was like for him. If he even enjoyed it. If it somehow hurt him. 

Alex glanced at you as well, giving you a wink. “I think our girl is used to getting what she wants. And she’s been mighty quick with the jabs tonight,” Alex said, lowering his voice. You gasped softly. You looked to John for help but he only smiled and leaned back in his seat.

“Quicker than the Greatest himself,” John said.

You giggled to hide the fact that you didn’t know what to fucking say. You always had some kind of lick back, but fuck, they were making you sweat tonight! You shifted in your seat and shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I get what I want? Don’t I deserve it?” You asked, turning doe eyes to John. 

He faltered, his lips parting a fraction. You blinked a few times and reached out to touch his forearm. “Haven’t I been good?” You asked. 

“And she fights dirty as hell,” John said, shaking his head and recovering. Alex’s chuckle brought your attention to him and he leaned forward, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

“She thinks you’re her ally,” Alex said.

“You can’t read minds, Dr. Cross,” you said, leaning forward to match his energy. 

Alex hummed and nodded his head. “You wanna test that? Want to see if John’s on your side or mine?” He asked. 

You looked back at John who had leaned forward as well. You stared into his big, warm brown eyes. His eyes narrowed, testing you. You tilted your head. He lifted an eyebrow. “Game on, Sugar,” you said to Johnny with a wink. 

He chuckled as Alex called for the check. The anticipation nearly killed you as the waiter approached. He told the waiter, no, you did not want dessert. You shrieked and Alex chuckled, requesting one slice of chocolate cake to go. You grinned with a giggle. You were going to need something after they wore you out!

“Always getting what she wants,” John said, shaking his head. 

“That’s what she thinks anyway,” Alex said. 

You glanced between them, at the shared looks and smirks. You gasped and pointed to both. “You’ve been plotting!” 

They laughed. John shook his head. “Why would we do that?” Alex asked with a wink. The waiter returned with Alex’s card and the chocolate cake in a small paper bag, cutting off your protests. 

You sputtered as the men stood up. John pulled out your chair while Alex grabbed your hand and helped you stand. John whistled low and hummed. “Missed that ass, for sure. You look beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he said.

Your thighs practically burned at this point. Tingling pinpricks of desire. “You can make it up to me in about ten minutes,” you said.

Alex stepped closer to you and lifted your hand to his mouth. He kissed the inside of your wrist, sliding his rough hand against your softer one. “For someone so drop dead gorgeous and intelligent, you still don’t see the danger you’re in,” he said as softly as if reciting poetry. 

“Danger?” You said.

“Mhm, you sure you don’t have anywhere to be in the morning?” John asked. You looked over your shoulder. You forgot that quick how damn tall John was. You craned your neck as he tilted his head down at you. 

“Oh, we’re cocky tonight,” you said. 

John answered with a grin. He stepped back and allowed Alex to take the lead on escorting you out. Alex grabbed your coat from the hostess and helped you get in while John went ahead, grabbing his car from the valet. 

While you waited by the booth, you stood between both men not feeling an ounce of D.C. weather. Earlier, the wind about your ankles at the bottom of your dress was cold enough to make your teeth chatter. Now, there was just the inherent heat rolling off two powerful men. This was it. This was heaven.

You smirked at your own little joke while the valet brought John’s huge truck around. John helped you climb into the front seat while Alex took the back. “We couldn’t take Alex’s car…?” You pouted. It was damn hard to climb in heels, in the winter, after a six hour flight with a screaming baby in your ear. 

“I can’t fit in that matchbox car,” John said, pulling away from the restaurant. 

“Hey, easy,” Alex said. You giggled and turned around to look at him. 

“I happen to like your car,” you said. 

“Sucking up gets you no favors,” Alex said.

You gasped. “I was not sucking up!” You said, offended he would read you so well. You turned back around with a small huff and John laughed. 

“You would like his car. It’s low to the ground so your ass could fit,” he said. 

You shrieked again, turning wide eyes to Johnny. “You take that back,” you said.

“Is she…did she try to give me an order?” John asked, looking in the rearview mirror at Alex. Alex’s dark chuckle was downright nasty. Your belly clenched listening to it. 

“You know what, I think she did,” Alex said. They laughed and joked on the short ride to your hotel. Somehow this morphed to an understanding that this would always take place at your hotel. 

Alex had his kids and Nana Mama at the house and while John’s bed may have worked, you all agreed that you needed the biggest bed available at all times. Plus, at the hotel, you were guaranteed not to be interrupted. 

John slipped into an available parking spot and you led the way inside the upscale hotel. Alex whistled as he saw it and you waved him off. “Oh you know the company, looks matter,” you said, waving him off. 

At the elevator doors, the boys naturally took up their places on either side of you. You almost felt like royalty, getting escorted by bodyguards. Very sexy bodyguards. This was like every bodyguard romance you ever read and you grinned. 

An older couple joined you just as the gilded elevator doors opened. You pinched your lips but didn’t say anything. Fuuuuuck, you hoped their room was on the next floor or something. You wanted to tell them to catch the next one. But John put his hand on your lower back and pushed you inside when the doors opened.

You followed, if only to hurry everything along, and the couple entered behind you with a smile. Before the doors closed, a man in a hotel uniform entered carrying fresh towels. Good fucking grief. 

You shifted your weight to one of your heels, putting you closer to John. He wrapped his arm around your back, hand sliding down to your ass. You gasped, looking up at him and he licked his lips. “Behave,” he mouthed to you. 

You ran your tongue over your canine, ready to tell him about himself, when he squeezed your ass and you almost collapsed against him. The elevator rose and rose and rose while John fondled your ass. You were all the way in the back and everyone else faced forward. The gilded elevator was shiny enough to show parts of your reflection and you looked at John. Was he aware? Was he doing it on purpose? This seemed new, even for him. 

You gasped again when rough fingers grabbed your thigh through the slit in your dress. You turned to Alex who winked at you. The elevator stopped and the staff member got off to deliver the towels. 

The doors slid closed and then the ascent made you jerk. But the dueling hands on your body, pawing at you in public, made you tremble with need. You had other lovers, some you tended to hit up when you reached their city again, but there was no one like your two best men. Absolutely no one. They worked in tandem, pushing into your fleshy skin as if it were practiced.

Your clit throbbed, pressure building in your lower belly. You were going to faint, you just knew it. It took all of your concentration not to fall to your knees and suck them both off in the elevator. You knew a guy who could break into the hotel’s security cameras and delete the footage.

The elevator mercifully dinged again and the old couple waved and said goodbye as they got off. Without the cover, John and Alex’s hands disappeared to save your modesty. Fuck that. You were panting and shaky, beyond horny. 

“You do not play fair,” you said, breathless. 

“Never did,” John said as the elevator stopped on your floor. He held the door open for you and waited for you to pass him. Alex followed behind.

“Never will,” Alex said, placing his hand on your lower back and walking with you to your door. Johnny was almost like a real bodyguard, standing a little ways behind you since the hallway wasn’t that big. 

You rolled your eyes as you approached your door, opening it, and the men let you inside first. You turned on lights as you walked further in, immediately shucking off your heels. You moaned as your feet sank into the plush crimson carpet. 

The door closed and then some of the overhead lights winked out. You turned to watch your boys stalking towards you. Alex looked edible in his dark gray turtleneck and dark slacks. He rubbed his beard, smoothing it down as he gave you a full body scan. 

John had a long sleeve wine colored shirt paired with gray slacks. You watched as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. He left the lamp light on, but crossed to your window and opened the curtains. 

City lights filtered in, turning the room from just another hotel room to something otherworldly. You were focused on John so you jumped when Alex’s hands rubbed your shoulders. “Relax, it’s just us,” he cooed in your ear. 

John smirked as he crossed the room and turned off the lamp light, bathing the room in a mix of reds, blues, and golds across your floor and the king sized bed. 

“That’s not why I’m jumpy,” you said, out of breath as if you ran a marathon. If they didn’t start soon, you were going to fucking lose it. 

“Where’s your bag?” John asked. 

“Why?” You shivered as Alex’s hands roamed your body, taking in your curves. 

“Damn girl, this body get thicker every time I see you,” he said. You nudged him with your elbow and laughed. 

John opened the closet door and pulled out your bag. “I know your nasty ass always comes…” he said and rummaged through your open suitcase. “Prepared.” He held up your travel vibrator and you giggled. 

“This sounds more like torture than a fun evening for me, boys,” you said. 

“Aww, you think this is for you,” Alex said. His fingers found your zipper and he pulled. The rip-like noise was loud in the suite. He pulled, exposing your back. His fingers followed the zipper, his finger moving down your spine. He hissed. “No bra, John.” 

John groaned, crossing the room to join you. He tugged at the front of your dress, pulling the straps down your arms. He yanked until your breasts popped out and he groaned. “So fucking beautiful,” he said.

You looked down to see him pitching an impressive tent. You reached out to cup him but John tsked at you and moved his hips away. You grunted, blinking through a foggy mind. “Aw come on. Don’t start with the teasing,” you said.

You wanted to cum, dammit. Alex unexpectedly grabbed your arms and drew it behind your back. You gasped, flush against his equally impressive bulge. You couldn’t help arching your back. He rested his head against yours, kissing your cheek. 

“We thought we’d try something a little different tonight. Trust us?” He asked. He nodded to John who tugged off the rest of your dress. Cold air and red light hit your skin and you moaned at the rough way John slipped off your dress. 

“You know I trust you,” you said. John tossed your dress against the couch on the far side of the suite. 

“You remember our safeword, gorgeous?” Alex asked. 

“Safeword?” You tried to look over your shoulder to Alex but he held you firm. Wrists clasped in his much larger hands. Fuck. You hadn’t needed a safeword with these two for quite some time. The sex was never boring, it just evolved into lots of touching and rubbing and slow lovemaking. This…this was definitely different.

John crossed the room once more, licking his lips as his eyes dipped to your nipples. He produced a rope and blindfold in his hand, your vibrator in the other. “What’s your safeword?” John asked. 

John handed the rope to Alex who tied it around your wrists. When he was done, you tested his knot skills. You couldn’t break free even if you really tried. Your thighs trembled. “L-Lemon,” you said.

“There’s our girl. She earned a kiss,” John said, leaning down to capture your lips with his. You moaned, suckling his lips and tasting the bourbon he had earlier. 

John pulled back with a wink and then handed the blindfold to Alex who promptly placed it over your eyes. You pouted, denied the pleasure of seeing them now. John moved away and he started moving in front of you, probably taking off his pants.

“Wait, so I don’t even get to see your dicks?” You asked. Maybe you needed to re-think this whole trust thing. They clearly didn’t know you at all. Best friends your ass. 

Alex swatted you so fast that it took a moment before the sting blossomed on your ass. “Oh, fuck,” you shook, knees buckling. He held you up with one arm around your middle. He pulled you against his still clothed body and then sunk his hand into your panties.

“Fuck, you been like this since the restaurant, haven’t you?” He asked.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned. He didn’t touch you. Instead, he swirled his finger through your damp hair, rubbing the outside of your slit, gathering up all the essence you leaked out. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you moaned, moving your hips. Trying to guide his hand where you wanted. 

John chuckled. “I got her,” he said. John snatched off your panties, yanking it down your legs, over your feet, before you had a chance to yelp. You were completely bare before them and you couldn’t see their reactions.

“Only say your safeword if you mean it,” Alex said. Damn mind reader. You huffed and deflated. 

“Look at that, she earned another kiss,” John said. He gripped your elbow and spun you around so Alex could grab your cheeks and kiss your socks off. He groaned, pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues dueled before John tugged you away. You whimpered, leaning forward. 

“What do I have to do to earn another?” You asked. 

John laughed and kissed below your ear. “Be a good kitten,” he said. 

Your clit throbbed as John pushed you down onto the bed on your knees. Your ass hung in the air and John wasted no time giving you a few swats. You hissed after each one. He smacked your ass like a punching bag, hard as hell. Each bloom of heat went straight to your pussy, making you drip down your leg. 

You heard more rustling as Alex presumably took off his clothes as well. You missed the slow teases. The easy loving. But you could definitely get used to this. Used to the way they pushed you around. 

Soft buzzing clicked on and then John shoved it into your pussy, to the highest setting. “Oh shit!” You screamed out, falling flat on your face with no arms to support you. 

“Shh, shh, shh, you’re not allowed to cum yet,” John said. 

“Why?” You gasped, biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming out. Your body had been hyper aware all day, stuck in a state of lust as you pictured how tonight would go. The easy banter, the memories rushing to the forefront. The way you liked to give each other shit and tease. 

You barely focused during your earlier meeting, thoughts of playing hide the sausages on constant repeat in your mind. The multiple orgasms, that was your favorite part. So far, they held the reigning count for how many times you could come in one night with no break. And now….they said you couldn’t come? 

“And before your bratty ass thinks of cumming anyway, just know, you won’t like that punishment,” Alex said. “If you think John hits hard…”

You shivered and shook, your whole body bowing under the weight of that dangling thought. You were tempted to do it any fucking way. Who did they think they were? But it was really nice when they gave you your two rewards. You wanted more. Okay…fine…you’d play along. For now.

“Fuck,” you moaned as the vibrator moved as your pussy clenched around it. John kept a firm grip on it, not allowing it to go too deep inside. 

John leaned down and bit your ass. You moaned, kicking your feet. He stepped forward and trapped your feet between his legs. He bit you again. “Good kitten,” he purred. 

Once you were done fighting, he maneuvered you on the bed with ease. Until you straddled a corner of the bed. Alex stepped in front of you, pushing strands of hair from your face. You moaned, already smelling the husky scent of his heavy dick. 

It was cruel that you couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see how hard he was or if he was already leaking pre-cum. You moaned, pussy clenching around the toy once more. John chuckled cruelly behind you. “I don’t think we’re gonna have to wait that long, Sugar. She already did half the work for us,” he said.

“Naw, she can give us more. Open your mouth,” he commanded. 

You whimpered but complied, opening your mouth. You swore that you could already taste him on your tongue. You waited a beat, then two, before Alex chuckled and slapped your face with his dick.

You moaned, feeling the thick tip slap against your cheeks and bounce on your bottom lip. His pre-cum left a few wet spots around your mouth and you leaned forward. John grabbed your hips and pulled you back towards him.

You groaned, denied from both of them. “Let me cum,” you begged. Alex slapped your face with his dick. 

“I said mouth open,” he said.

You pouted but quickly opened your mouth again. John pulled at the vibrator, pushing it in and out of your dripping hole. You moaned, fucking back on it. John groaned, his free hand rubbing and squeezing your ass. 

Alex finally shoved his dick in your mouth, down further than where you would have started. Your jaw popped trying to fit all of him inside. Alex groaned, and gripped your hair to start fucking your mouth. 

The vibrator disappeared and John sank into your pussy on a long, sustained groan. Like he was coming home after being away at war for a year. They were somehow both out of sync and in it. Pulling and pushing you between them like you were a live finger trap for their dicks. 

John gripped your hips and fucked you, fingers digging into your skin, as he stretched you completely around his monster. You screamed around Alex’s dick, wishing more than anything that you could see. 

Male pleasure was its own aphrodisiac between the moans and the looks on their faces. When they threw their head back and lost themselves in you. Fuck, you never got used to that feeling of power. That feeling of sexiness that it brought. That you could tame not one but two powerful Black men. And they denied it to you. 

Alex was no better, gripping your hair and forcing you to take his dick as if John wasn’t there pulling you away. Saliva pooled on either side of your mouth, dripping down your chin. You moaned around his dick, feeling it rub against the inside of your cheek.

Pressure built in your lower belly. Your moans turned frantic, desperate, as you rode them both. As a unit, they both stopped pumping into you. 

“Nooo,” you moaned around Alex’s dick. John treated you to a smack on the ass. He gripped your hair out of Alex’s grasp and pulled you back to lift onto your knees. 

“You. Are. Not. In. Control. Right. Now,” John kissed into your neck and ended it with a lick. Alex grabbed your breasts in his hands, smashing them together so he could lick both of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Alex stopped and then the bed dipped as Alex climbed on top, kneeling in front of you. “Now take his dick like a good kitten, and you’ll get to cum. Suck him real good. I’ve seen that nasty ass mouth suck him dry in five minutes flat. Can you beat that?” John asked, nibbling at your earlobe.

Um…what? Your mind was a blur. Empty. Gone. Deceased as Alex shoved his dick back into your mouth and fucked you like there hadn’t been a factory reset on your brain. Your instincts kicked in, aided by your fierce competitive side, as you busted out all of the tricks. It was no longer about playing their game. You just wanted to beat your personal best. Alex moaned and gripped your throat, alternately squeezing and letting go.

John kept his grip on your hair as he fucked into you, slamming your ass on his dick. Loud, lewd smacking and sucking filled the room. Filled with frantic, rushed groaning and grunting. Your moans were pornographic, sucking down Alex like your life depended on it. 

You used your tongue more, teasing the underside of the head while he stroked. “Fuck, fuck,” Alex moaned. 

“She squeezing the fuck outta my dick,” John moaned, slapping your ass just because. “You like taking dick, don’t you?” John asked.

“Mhmm,” you moaned. How long had it been? How long did you still have to go? You took a deep breath and trusted Alex to get deeper, down to his base. You sucked and Alex groaned, his grip on your throat getting tighter. 

“Hmm, fuck,” Alex moaned, cumming down your throat without a warning. 

“Swallow it down,” Alex cooed. “Swallow that shit.” 

You drank deeply, letting his thick cum slide down your throat with ease. Alex tapped your cheek, huffing with spent breaths. He eased out of you and let John push you forward.

“Good kitten, you earned another reward,” he said. He kept a hand on your back as he stroked into you. He pushed forward, making you take all of him, making you take him while he bottomed out and slammed his dick inside. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t-, I can’t hold–,” you whined.

“Yes, you can. You want a bigger reward?” John grunted.

“Yesss,” you moaned. 

“Hold on,” John said. “Fuck, good pussy. Good pussy. Good pussy,” he said, getting more and more breathless with each punishing stroke. He slammed into you one last time, unloading a thick load. He filled you to the brim. Tip throbbing against your core. 

You began to whine, limbs shaking. “You can cum, kitten,” John cooed.

You came instantly, flooded relief coursing through your veins as you added to the mix of juices spilling out of you. John fucked you through it, his dick still rock hard and lethal. He brushed against your sweet spot and you leaned forward, trying to get away.

“Mhmm, take that dick, baby. We’ve been dreaming ‘bout this ever since you said you were coming back to town. Dreaming of you taking us again and again and again,” Alex said, pushing you back into position. He kept his hands on your neck, keeping you in place.

“Fuhhh-” you cried, falling into another orgasm. One rolled right into the next one, your eyes rolling back into your head. Your body was slick with sweat. You shivered on John’s dick. Your wrists burned from trying to get loose. Trying to get away. 

You stopped convulsing on John’s dick and he sighed, slapping your ass while he slipped out of your pussy. You groaned, pushing his load out. “Fuck, fuck,” you moaned. 

John gave you one last smack and then grabbed you, yanking you to the edge of the bed and then flipped you over onto your back. You groaned. You were spent. You were done. There was no way you could survive more. 

“You came without permission. Which is okay, you won’t get punished for it. But now we’re going to play a game,” Alex said. The bed dipped under his weight as he got up from the bed. 

“How you feelin’, kitten?” John asked. 

You licked your lips. “Good,” you squeaked. 

Both men chuckled. Like it was sweet. You turned your head listening for any clues on what they were up to. 

“Are you sure?” Alex asked. They moved about the room, switching places, checking in on you as you recovered from a powerful orgasm. 

“Be honest,” John said.

“I’m sure. I can keep going. I like this,” you said. “I missed this.”

John came closer and pecked you on the lips. “So did we.” 

Alex was next to peck you on the lips and then they were gone again, leaving you on the bed alone. 

“We’re going to take turns back in that sweet pussy of yours. If you can guess correctly each time, you get to cum after. If not, we get to fill that pussy up before you get to cum,” Alex explained. 

“Both of you?” You asked. A little panicked. How could you hold off an orgasm with both of them using you until they both filled you? They said it was a set up but it didn’t sink in just how much. They were fucking you like they wanted to keep you. Like they wanted you to stay. You promised yourself that you couldn’t let them hold onto that dream.

You wanted both of them. Heaven knew you couldn’t choose. Both had qualities that you were drawn to. And while you had fun for these trysts, these passionate affairs, you knew that they would hate you eventually. That they would make you choose between them. Both were too proud and possessive to settle for anything less. 

“Both of us,” Alex confirmed. 

“Fuuuck,” you moaned, dropping your head to the bed. They chuckled, growing quiet. A pair of hands gripped you and shoved in. You were still a bit sensitive so you hissed, hands flexing, wishing you could reach out and grab them. 

The dick was huge, massive, splintering you but fuck if you could tell off hand who it belonged to. They were both big. A few more strokes before he stilled. “Uh-uh, Alex?” 

“Very good,” Alex said. He slipped out and then there was a beat before hands pushed your thighs apart. He entered you, stretching you very fucking well. To the point that you were seeing fireworks behind the blindfold. 

“J-John,” you moaned. 

“She thinks she knows us,” John cooed and leaned down to kiss you. You kissed him back with hungry fervor before he pulled away, pinching your nipple as he slipped out of you. You moaned as he stepped away.

Next, hands pushed down on either side of your waist and he entered you slowly, methodically. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. “John,” you cried.

He chuckled and rewarded you with another kiss. “She’s too good at this, Sugar,” John said. 

Alex chuckled as well as John slipped out. Your lips were fucking parched, tummy ready to cave in. You were so close to the brink again. Too close to tipping over. 

One entered you for a few strokes before stepping away and the other took over. They went back and forth, making you dizzy, unable to keep up with the differences between the both of them. “Fng, ung, ung,” you moaned, getting wetter by the second. 

“Making a sexy fucking mess,” Alex moaned while he was in you, balls deep, having you making incoherent sounds, singing the national anthem in latin for all you knew. 

He left and then it was back to the silence. Nothing but your squelching pussy accepting both of them. Both of them were a perfect fit. You were pretty sure that it was John who entered you this time, slamming into you a little rougher. Your legs shook pathetically. 

You whined and moaned, a cramp stabbing you in the lower belly from the overwhelming need to cum. To release this tension. This one slipped out and your pussy was still clenching, still seeking to be filled. 

You cried in frustration, tears leaking down the sides of your face. “Please,” you whispered.

Alex’s scent washed over you as he leaned down and gave you a sweet, scorching kiss. “Which one of us entered you first?” Alex asked against your lips.

“What?” You asked. Did he…did this motherfucker really think you remembered who entered you first?????

“Time’s ticking, kitten,” John asked, slapping his dick against your pussy. He rubbed his tip through your slick folds and you cried out, twisting, trying to get away from how good he felt. 

“I-I-.” Fuck, who had it been? You tried to think past the haze, past the fog, but you were coming up empty. Fuck it, you had a fifty-fifty chance of being right. “Alex. It was Alex,” you panted, but said it with enough authority to convince them you were right. As if you could will it.

They were silent for a moment. So long that you thought you got it wrong. Fuck, how were you going to survive? 

“Very good, baby,” Alex said. He kissed you once more, moaning around your lips. He pulled away and gently pushed you to the side, freeing your hands from your restraints. He rubbed feeling back into your arms with John’s assistance. You moaned and sighed as feeling returned to your limbs. He gripped your thighs and pulled your ass to the end of the bed.

He didn’t tease, thank god. He just fed you his dick and you moaned, loudly. John chuckled, dropping onto the bed with a huff and grabbing your left titty. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking, teasing, nibbling as Alex rocked into you quickly but softly. 

John played with your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth. “Can you take me too, kitten?” John asked, rubbing his beard against your skin. You moaned, reaching out to grip and tug at his hair. 

“Let me taste you,” you begged. 

“That’s our girl,” Alex cooed as John scooted up the bed to land next to your face. He leaned on his side while he pushed his dick through your lips, stroking in and out with more gentleness than he displayed all night. You stayed connected like that, being the bridge between them.

“I’m gonn-” you moaned around John’s dick as you came on Alex’s. His dick throbbed as you flooded his dick with your essence. He moaned, stroking until he followed right after. John followed shortly behind with a soft grunt, spilling down your throat. You drank him down as well, slurping up every single drop. 

The room filled with your combined heavy breathing. Both men slipped out of you and then the blindfold was lifted. You blinked into the dark room, the window all but a distant memory in your mind. 

The city was still so bright and vibrant, cars moving up and down the road. You looked between your sexy men, grinning up at them. You yawned and stretched, your arms popping from being held behind you for so long. 

“Come on, let’s give you your real reward in the bath,” John said.

“I can’t survive another one,” you said sleepily, leaning forward to drop your cheek against Alex’s stomach. He chuckled and lifted your chin, stealing a kiss. 

“Yes you can. Unless there’s a certain word you wanna say?” He asked.

You bit your lip as you looked at him and then over your shoulder at John. His smile grew and then you turned back to Alex. 

“Lead the way then,” you said with a put upon sigh. You all chuckled as you headed to the bathroom with your vibrator where they proceeded to let you cum a few more times. 

The end.

Ya'll know me by now, I can't help it! The Secret Alex Cross Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @westside-rot @babybratzmaraj @chaos-4baby @blackerthings

@amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap

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@tvchi @softimgyu @thecapodomme

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

I still can’t believe they had Dorothy sing What’ll I Do in the most wistful, heartsick way as Blanche listens on, and then had her leave four episodes later.

Like, they picked a song that goes:

What’ll I do with only dreams of you /

That won’t come true /

What’ll I do?

And then Blanche ends the episode telling her You’re beautiful. When you sing, you light up a room.

And then four (FOUR!!!) episodes later Dorothy gets married and leaves forever. I’m going to go feral

[justplainwhump]

Bea

In a moment of despair, Bea finds herself.

[Pet Safety Masterlist]

Content: BBU, BBU recovery, recapture(-ish) - but really, mostly recovery.

Bea. Bea.

She'd said the new name to herself in the mirror, every time she looked at one; sometimes out loud when she was home alone; just a soft mumble at other times. "Good morning, Bea", she would say, or "Good evening, Bea", and the one-eyed woman in the mirror would smile a beautiful smile, and the pet who wasn't really a pet any longer would smile back.

She held on to her old name, too, deep inside, the old name and its old life, its flickers of memory, vague faces, echoes of touches.

Bea, however, was now. A new life, a new name, even a new face. Maybe less regular than the old one, less perfect. But beautiful. Happy.

And she owed it all to Adrian Delgado, the man who was cowering next to her on the street right now, his hands on the shoulders of a skinny, shaking runaway pet.

"We'll get you out of here," Adrian mumbled into the runaway's hair.

They'd found him huddled up in a narrow alleyway on their walk home from dinner, feverish and injured. Adrian hadn't hesitated. With practised routine, one hand had dialed Marta's number, the other wrapped a scarf around his face, before he'd sank to his knees to check the pet's health. He wasn't good. Bea knew. She'd seen similar injuries. She'd suffered them, too. And she'd barely survived.

"Please," the pet whimpered now. "Please don't make me go back, please."

"You won't. My friend will be here soon," Adrian said, holding his hand. "She'll help you."

"Negative." Marta's voice through the phone was pressed, sharp. "A, B, you need to bail, right now, we have a WRU re-ac team coming in."

"Please," the pet whispered again and grabbed Adrian's other hand, too. "Please. Not back to my owner."

The phone cracked. "Are you leaving? Fuck. You're not leaving, A, I'd hear that. Fucking run, or you bring him in to WRU yourself, you hear me? Don't blow your cover."

The pet sobbed.

Bea reached for the phone and got to her feet. There wasn't a mirror here, only Bea's dull reflection in a dirty storefront window, her face half shadowed in the streetlight. Hi Bea, she thought. Hi, girl. You're good. You've got this.

"Bea," Adrian called. "What are you doing?" He shook off the pet's hand.

Bea held his gaze. "Get A and the pet," Bea said into the phone, carefully avoiding their names just as Marta did. "I'll handle the team."

"What?"

She shoved up her sleeves, turned her wrist in the streetlight, so the black lines of her bar code shone. "They return runaways to their owners," she said. "Let them return me, not him."

"No," Adrian rose as well, the pet mindlessly sobbing at his feet. "You can't go back to Ja-"

"Jack's not my owner," she reminded him softly. "You are." She smiled. "Tell them I ran, after dinner. I am a good liar, Sir. So are you."

"Do it, B," Marta called via phone. "Now!"

Bea tossed the phone back to Adrian and pointed to her feet. "You told me to run. I have good shoes."

From the main street, the brakes of a heavy car echoed into the alley. Adrian deftly grabbed the pet, pressed a hand on his mouth. Already running towards the corner, Bea knew they were getting cover.

Just in time.

A man and a woman in WRU black stepped out of a van, just as Bea cut around the corner. "Hey," the woman called, hand on her shock baton. "You! Stop!"

Bea stopped, slowly lifted her hands, making sure they could see the bar code.

It was some meters. It was fine. She just needed to get them away from Adrian Delgado and the injured pet. She took some measured steps backwards, keeping her distance. "Please," she cried, just as the runaway had. "Please. I can't go back!"

"Respect," the man boomed, his own baton already in hand.

Bea's knees trembled, but didn't waver. Broken, they'd called her in WRU refurb. Messed up. Stupid. Dysfunctional. Problematic. Because she'd obeyed, done her best to appease them, to survive. But she'd stopped believing. In the handlers, in the truth of the rules, in the power of their orders.

"No," she whispered. Because she could. "Never."

"Stubborn, little shit." The man reached for his taser.

Bea spun on her heel and ran.

"Fuck," the man yelled. "After her. Go! Go!"

She heard footsteps behind her, the screeching tires of the van as it turned on the street, and she knew she wouldn't be able to escape them.

But she didn't need to. She just needed to make it around a corner or two, just clear the path to the alley with Adrian and the runway.

And she knew she could do that.

Good job, Bea, she thought.

Running away from a WRU reacquisition team, her good shoes carrying her, wind in her face, raindrops on her skin, Bea felt herself smile.

She still did, two corners later, when the van drove on the sidewalk in front of her, when a baton crashed into her ribs and she was thrown over the van's hood. When a scanner beeped over her wrist, when the man mumbled number and designation.

For the first time, it didn't feel like hers.

She wasn't a number. She was Bea. And finally, she knew, who Bea was meant be.

----

-

pet safety tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue @theelvishcowgirl @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps

[illusionsofdreaming]

birds without feet;

Notes: I return to the blog with this monster of a ficlet. This was actually written for @nin-deer who very graciously allowed me to share it on the blog as well. A small imagine that grew out of control haha... enjoy~ Ft: Beacrox

It was but a subtle shift of air that caused him to abandon his project. In an instant, he whipped around, knife in hand, its sharp blade poised just above the intruder's jugular, ready to cut deep with the slightest pressure.

Despite the threat of a blade at your neck, your smile was relaxed as you lifted the roll of parchment in your hand. “Delivery!”

His eyes quickly scanned the kitchen, noting the shifted curtains he pieced together your point of entrance. Only when you wiggled the paper impatiently did he finally drop the knife and swiped the parchment from your hand, ignoring your huff of laughter as he scanned over its contents.

“It’s nice to see you too Beacrox. How have you been?” 

Your attempts at casual banter were ignored, but the moment you began reaching for the food on the table, his gaze snapped to yours, promising pain should you attempt further.

You were wise enough to heed his warning as you stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “Sheesh, you’re not going to make any friends if you keep acting this way.”

Crumpling the piece of paper, he threw it into the fireplace as you clicked your tongue in mock annoyance.

Had he cared for your opinion, he might’ve been annoyed, alas it was easy to dismiss as he threw a pouch in your direction, the clink of gold muted as you caught it from the air. He watched as you tossed the bag a few times before pocketing it.

You must have caught the confusion on his face as you glanced up with a grin. “I know you won’t cheat me of my payment.”

Though it was the truth—Molan’s motto was always to repay what’s due—such blatant admission of trust from someone working in the dark underbelly of society puzzled him, and without meaning to, he’d let his displeasure slip through. “It could’ve been filled with rocks.”

You blinked, head tilted as if you’re considering the possibility, then you laughed. “Then I suppose I’ll be a few pretty rocks richer.”

He scowled and returned to his work, grabbing his knife to hide the flush of annoyance he felt by your flippant answer. You knew such responses would annoy him, and he refused to give you the satisfaction of being correct.

One does not survive long in the underworld with their morals and innocence intact. Your deliberate pushing of buttons was another tactic to wheedle information from your targets, and he wasn't inclined on revealing anything. You already know far too much as is.

“Leave,” he ordered, his limited patience well and truly spent. 

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Bea~”

He threw the knife in his hand, but by the time he turned around, you were already gone. The only evidence of your visit was the lingering echoes of your laughter and a missing tart from the plate of desserts he'd prepared earlier.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

As you kept the package just out of his reach, he couldn’t help but think: for a grown person jaded by the underworld, you sure liked acting like a child at times.

“You just thought of something rude didn’t you?”

His gaze snapped to yours. “You forget who you’re dealing with.” he warned coldly. The Molan household might have fallen from grace but just because he had traded his daggers for kitchen knives, they were no less lethal in his hands. Was it confidence or foolishness that made you dare to test his patience?

The silence in the kitchens was deafening as your eyes met across the counter. 

“I haven’t,” You said finally, “not once.” Your smile was wry and lacked its usual cheer but the heaviness in your tone bore the weight of many secrets, of someone who knew far more than what they’re letting on. He’s faced with an uncanny sense of unbelonging and emptiness that seemed eerily familiar. 

But with a blink of an eye, the mask that had slipped had righted itself. “I have a change of mind,” You sat on the edge of the counter island, tension and somber mood shaken off, replaced with an all too sunny smile. “I’d like another form of payment for the information I’m selling.”

He felt anger lick up his throat as his fist clenched above the table. “That was not part of our deal.”

“An amendment to the agreement then, if you will-”

“I refuse.”

Your peals of laughter filled the room, “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I refuse.” He repeated sternly. Knowing your personality, it would be an amendment that would greatly irritate or inconvenience him. 

“I’d like you to cook a dish for me.” You continued, ignoring his words. 

There was a sharp snap as the corner of the table cracked under his hand as incredulity stole over his face. 

To begin with, payment for your services had never been cheap, each bag of gold was worth more than several months’ worth of food. If all you wanted was a decent meal, then you’ve already been charging enough to dine at any of Roan kingdom’s finest restaurants.

“It’s not a dish that can be found on any menu in the kingdom.” You tutted as if you knew the thoughts that were going through his head. “It’s not something that can be bought with gold.” 

You’re pulling his leg. “And why do you think I’d care to create a dish no one’s heard of?” Beacrox asked through gritted teeth.

“I know you don’t.” You laughed, lips slanted with a smile. “It’s something I’ve tasted a long time ago but have no idea how it’s made. I’ll describe what I remember and if you believe it’s impossible to recreate or not worth the hassle,” you shrugged in an exaggerated display of nonchalance, “then I’ll take the usual payment like nothing’s changed. It’s a good deal for you right?”

Nothing about this deal made sense. You’re essentially offering your services for free while he’d benefit regardless of whether he succeeds in recreating the dish or not. His expression was stiff as he crossed his arms.

You set the package down on the table gently and slid a piece of folded paper next to it. “Take your time to think about it.” You offered as you pulled your hood up. You left the kitchens as quietly as you’d arrived, leaving him to brood in the silence left behind.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Here.” he sets the completed project on the table with the reluctance of a person who would rather be anywhere else but in the kitchens at that very moment. He folded his arms, pinning his hands to his chest, resisting the urge to snatch the plate and throw it in the trash, calling off the deal.

Beacrox had no expectations of being able to recreate a dish he had never heard of. Yet, from the moment he set the plate down, you stiffened in place, your pleasant smile melting away, replaced by shock.

“Well?”, You flinched as he prompted impatiently. You pulled the dish closer, your smile weak and crooked. 

“I was just a bit surprised that’s all..” your voice trailed off.

He filed your reactions away in the back of his mind.

Your grip was uncertain but eventually you picked a piece from the plate and placed it in your mouth.

You froze in place, and he immediately slid a cup of water and bowl over. 

But you surprised him when you kept it in and swallowed. “It…” He watched as your face straightened slowly, all visible emotions ironed away into one of careful neutrality. 

“..tastes nothing like it.” 

When vague subjective descriptions on a slim piece of paper were all that he had to work with, he’d expected this outcome. The bag of gold he had prepared in advance was tossed onto the table as he reached to retrieve the dish, only to be deterred when sharp pain sprang across the back of his hand. The surprise he felt from the fact he’d failed to catch your movements was swiftly replaced by irritation when he realised you’d slapped him. 

His eyes narrowed, “What are you-“

“I’m taking it.” you said and to his utter confusion, went on to shove another bite in your mouth.

“You just said-“

“I know what I said.” you huffed, “I never said the dish had to taste right did I? It’s a good first try-“ His eyebrows lifted as you suddenly lost the ability to maintain eye contact with him. “Anyways, I’ll be the judge of what’s accepted and I say this passes.”

You've always been an eccentric character, but just when he thought you couldn't faze him further, you managed to render him speechless yet again. Till now, he’s yet to figure out your intention behind your request, if taste was not a priority then what use was creating the dish you’re looking for? 

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“But I haven’t-“

“Out.”

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

Of all the informants in the kingdom, none possessed skills that could surpass yours. It was why, despite the many headaches you induced, Beacrox had chosen to suffer your pestering for so long.

Not one of his sources has ever confirmed how you acquire your information or seen you in action. Yet the intelligence you provide, which has, at many times, sounded unbelievable, had been proven to be true time and time again. 

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was that, despite the ease with which you uncover others' secrets, the same couldn’t be said vice versa. Little to no information could be found regarding your background, whatever was found was obviously doctored, being far too mundane for someone of your skills. You were either incredibly thorough at covering your tracks or an experienced fraudster, and Beacrox was inclined on believing the latter.  

Your unpredictable behaviour made it hard to judge whether you’re an ally or foe, so it was only natural that he’d sought for leverage to hold against you in case there’ll be a day you’d decide to betray them and sell their secrets to their enemies. 

That was the only reason he would consider playing along with your games.

Though he knew not the significance of these dishes to you, he had hoped they would provide some insight on your background or places you’ve been to where other sources have failed to narrow down. 

But of course even the meals you’d request would be harder if not just as difficult to trace as well.

It was only a matter of time before you caught onto his intentions, after all, he’d never kept his investigations a secret. Yet instead of pulling back like he’d expected, you had become bolder in your requests, eyes sparkling with mischief as if you understood the frustration he was going through and still remain one infuriating step ahead of him at all times. 

He’d considered the possibility that you could be pulling his leg, but there was something about the nostalgia in your eyes as you taste each dish that made Beacrox believe in their authenticity. 

He glanced at a small box hidden by the side, within held a small but steadily growing pile of recipes of unknown origins. Not for the first time, Beacrox found himself questioning if all these peaceful days have turned him soft after all.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

A familiar, unwelcome figure was sitting in his fresh crate of produce.

A quick scan around the area confirmed that you were alone and he walked over to assess your state. A splatter trail led up to the crate you sat on and his brows furrowed in distaste. The darkness made it difficult to immediately see any obvious signs of injuries and when you made no reaction to his presence, he kicked the crate below you.

“Ow.” you stirred, complaining with a soft laugh. 

Conscious. 

“Why are you here?”

Your unannounced visit broke one of many unspoken rules governing their kind. As people maintaining a delicate facade, unexpected visits were not merely discouraged but deemed perilous. No one would fault him should he choose to silence you then and there - such was the severity of your faux pas - yet he stood, only mildly irritated, at the disruption you’ve brought to a peaceful night.

It took a moment longer than he liked before you gathered enough strength to speak. “Sorry,” you apologised and for once, actually sounding it. “I just need a little rest. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Your laboured breathing and unfocused gaze suggested otherwise and he folded his arms as the dreadful feeling of his plans for an early night slipped through his fingers like fine sand. 

“How bad is it?” 

Impatiently he waited for you to process his words, your sluggishness a strange contrast to your usually sharp wit and quick retorts. 

“It’s been treated.” 

The smell of blood was sharp and acrid, he would have to clean the stains soon if he wished to avoid its scent lingering in the area. “I will not ask again.” He warned.

You were exhausted, it could be seen from your posture and expression. Though he understood the instinct to hide one’s weakness, from the moment you chose to rest here it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ the truth comes out but a matter of ‘when’ and Beacrox would preferred if it happened sooner rather than later.

Just as he was contemplating the benefits of leaving you to your fate, your lips loosened. “Stab wound on the left, missed vitals. I’ve been tended to but some of the stitches might have opened up.”

That would explain the bloody trail you left. He should count his blessings that it didn’t sound too bothersome, assuming you hadn't foolishly downplayed the severity of your injuries. Your arms came up defensively as he began moving towards you, eyes widening with surprise, “Wait-“

His arms slipped under and around and with barely a grunt of effort, he lifted you up. The sudden motion drew a muffled groan from you and he allowed you a brief moment to collect yourself before he began moving. From this position, he could acutely feel the heat radiating from your skin and the tremors that wracked your body. 

Your confusion and trepidation were clear and it was with some hesitation before you decided to open your mouth-

“Save your breath.” He advised and you obediently swallowed your words.

He moved you into the storage shed behind the kitchen. Though dark, he navigated through the small space easily, setting you on the surface of several boxes, he stepped back to note that you’ve lost consciousness. The walk hadn’t been far but you must have exhausted your reserves traveling here.

From the darkness he brought out a small knife and paused, looking at your face, sweat slicked yet slack from tension, having found an escape from the worries troubling you - however temporary. He recognised that this moment might be a rare opportunity to unveil the secrets you hide, yet as quick as the notion flitted through his mind, it was dismissed just as quickly. With methodical precision, he cut open the side of your shirt where red had stained through.

The wound was as you’d described, if not a bit irritated and swollen. Basic first aid had been applied, though the messy stitch work left much to be desired, it did its job in holding your injury closed. A few stitches had come loose and will need to be reworked but nothing that he’s not capable of handling even with his limited medical knowledge.

As his gaze roamed to your face checking, yes, you were still unconscious, he left and returned moments later with a candle, clean water, cloth and a clean shirt. 

A dusty shed and mere candlelight were far from an ideal setting to perform any kind of wound care, but he doubted you’d care at this point. Pristine, white gloves snapped on, he made short work of cleaning, restitching and bandaging your wound. 

He was about to tilt a bottle of potion into your lips when you mumbled. He paused, waiting to see if you were regaining consciousness. You mumbled again and he frowned. It took him few moments before he realised two things: you weren’t waking up anytime soon and the words you’re mumbling, weren’t in a language from Roan or even any of the neighbouring kingdoms. 

As a master assassin, he had learned many languages, so the fact that you spoke one that he couldn’t place piqued his interest. He watched your lips, intent on studying and memorising the unique intonations and pitch, however, it seems your instincts finally kicked in, and though still unconscious, you’d stopped mumbling. 

Even out cold, you’d find a way to be bothersome. There was nothing more he could do, he left the folded, clean shirt he brought along by your side and with one final glance at your still form, he closed the doors behind him and locked it.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

He returned the next morning to a broken lock and an empty shed. In place of where you’re supposed to be was instead a piece of paper and a bag of coins. 

“Thanks for last night. Sorry about your spuds, I’ve replaced them for you :)”

A glance to the side confirmed the presence of a fresh crate of potatoes and a slip of paper containing the description of a dish never heard of before in the kingdom.

And for the first time ever, a name to go alongside the unfamiliar dish.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

You never mentioned what happened that night and he didn’t pry. Still, something seemed to have shifted between the two of you.

He no longer chases you away the moment you appear, while you've learned to place yourself to avoiding getting in the way of his cooking. He pretends not to notice when you arrive with injuries and you feign surprise at finding mysterious salves appearing nearby. 

“Aw, did you miss my company?” you teased when you caught his gaze assessing you after dropping by from one of your longer absences.

Beacrox made no attempt to conceal the dry scowl on his face. “Like one misses a rat infestation.”

“Charming~” you beamed.

Some things, still don’t change no matter what. 

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

In the end, it was the one question he couldn’t figure out. 

“Why me?”

The dishes you've shared are simple, you could've hired any other chef, given the same descriptions and they would’ve achieved similar results. But you chose to badger him, an unknown chef working for a humble count's family instead.

You paused in your devouring of yet another strange dish, blinking as if surprised that he would be the first to initiate conversation.

“Why Bea! You should have more confidence in yourself, you’re one of the best chefs in Roan!”

It was as obvious a deflection as he ever saw. His fingers tightened around his arms and he took a slow breath. So you’re going to be stubborn. Well, two can play that game. He tried another angle. 

The words tasted foreign on his tongue, but they were something that turned over and over in his mind since that night. He’d probably horribly butchered the pronunciation but it seemed the meaning was successfully relayed from the way your eyes widened and your pupils shook with recognition. 

The utensil held in your hand clattered to the table and Beacrox kept his eyes trained on you, taking in your paling face. When it didn't seem like you would offer an explanation, he continued.

“It’s what you kept repeating that night.“

A myriad of emotions crossed your face: shock, confusion, fear, and finally, resignation. 

In the silence, you slowly repeated those same words. Sharp, crisp and wholly foreign. 

"“Home,” your voice was soft, but it was the loudest thing in the kitchen. “‘I want to go home.’” you swallowed thickly, a wavering smile on your face. “that’s probably what I said.”

There was a lot to unpack from that revelation. 

He was suddenly reminded of how you’d react to the dishes each time, savouring each one, scouring the plates clean despite the differences in tastes. You ate not to fulfil the hunger of the body but to satisfy a craving of the mind. After receiving the recipe with a foreign name, it had confirmed one suspicion of his, that wherever these dishes came from, whether it was a place or a person that you're reminiscing about, they're likely no longer accessible.

You're reliving memories through dishes you barely remember. Chasing ghosts in your memories in search of some semblance of normalcy. 

Trust was a limited and rare currency in the underworld, hoarded jealously and coveted by many. You’d handed him the leash he’d sought since he agreed to your little game yet he felt gutted by the weight of the revelation, his shoulders burdened.

“Why me?” He repeated softly.

You watched him. “I don’t know.” Your voice sounded small and so tired. “I thought maybe, if it’s anyone, you’d probably understand.”

What does the concept of home and person mean when they no longer exist? Who are they but displaced people playing roles too big or small to hold their histories? Bearing memories of a place and person, but unable to find an equivalent?

It was a mistake. He shouldn’t have asked.

“But I wasn’t lying you know?” you added suddenly and he looked up in confusion, the smile you wore was weaker than usual but it was genuine. 

“You are one of the best chefs in all of Roan.” You declared in that same, familiar confidence which you use to share all those impossible, far-fetched sounding intel that always, turns out to be fact. 

For some inexplicable reason, it was that simple statement that dispersed the tempest building within.

Beacrox sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and exhaled through his nose.

And perhaps, there was a small, exasperated chuckle.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Bea please marry me.”

It wasn't often, but on rare occasions, he would nail the taste of a dish right.

He didn’t bother with a response but moved to refill your plate nonetheless.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Thank you.”

He paused while wiping the dishes. “For what?”

“Just,” Your gaze dropped to the plate before you as your fork tapped lightly against the edge. “Thank you for the food.”

Beacrox watched as you returned to eating, mind filled with memories of all the dishes he's made, of greatswords and bladed edges, and thought of what home and belonging is. 

We’re not so different. The idea of it wasn't as horrifying as he had thought. Once, perhaps he would’ve been unnerved by the sentimentality. There are still so many things that remain a secret when it comes to you, and yet, as you close your eyes to savor each bite, he feels as if he knows you better than most.

You ate in comfortable silence. He rolled his shoulders and allowed the tension in them to drop off. 

This might not be ‘home’ but for now, this moment was as good a resting place as any for people like them.

“You’re welcome.” he said softly. 

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━ 

BONUS:

Once again, it begins with a ridiculous request from you.

“Bea please, you have to prepare this for Choi Han. I’ll even sell you my kidneys, I really need to know his reaction.” 

What value would owning your kidneys have? That you’d blatantly suggest such things to an assassin like himself was laughable, stranger still was his playing the fool and following along anyways.

He didn't question how you knew about their mansion's new guest, though your sudden interest in the visitor when you’ve shown no such interest in past guests was worthy of note. Even he had unconsciously tensed when the young master had introduced him. Something about the newcomer didn’t seem right. They were strong, but their potential was untapped and raw, like an uncontrollable beast on the verge of lashing out at any moment.

The glimmer of something in your eyes further confirmed his suspicions. You knew something about this stranger though you refused to reveal more, only promising that he’s not a threat to him or Ron. 

He frowned at the pot of red he’s stirring, the pungent smell wafting through the room. Footsteps from the doorway had him looking up, but the person that crossed the threshold was not the person he’d expected. 

The young master stepped in with a cautious look in his eyes. 

“I thought I smelled..” brown eyes narrowed at the pot he held. “What’s that?”

Beacrox glanced down at the strange dish he was asked to prepare, wondering why of all people that could’ve come, it would be Cale Henituse. 

“A dish a friend taught me to make.” Then for some reason unbeknownst to him, he offered. “Would the young master like to try?”

Cale hesitated, but eventually slid himself onto a seat, choosing the one farthest away from him. At least the young master seemed sober. Beacrox felt no fondness for the young master he served, even if it was true that he had begun to change recently, raising even the interest of Ron. 

Spooning a small portion, he set the dish and utensils down before Cale, ignoring the young man’s flinch as he gauged Cale’s strange expressions. 

The young master stared at the dish as if it would leap up and attack him, his strange wariness reminded Beacrox of your reaction when he first presented that first unfamiliar dish to you. 

“.. there’s no way..” Cale muttered to himself as he poked and prodded until finally, he tried a bite. 

“What.. the hell?”

Beacrox had never seen the young master's eyes bug out like that, and he decided it was quite an entertaining sight, even if the dish’s original target wasn’t meant for the redhead. Still he stifled an irritated sigh as a thought crossed his mind when the young master exclaimed.

“How the hell did you learn to make kimchi?!”

“What the hell did you make me do this time _______?”

Notes: I've had lots of thoughts while writing this imagine turned fic. Nin-deer gave me a simple prompt of "cooking" and I went and turned it into lore- OTL even I don't understand the intricate workings of my brain. I've had to cut out some chapters details as it was growing out of hand so I hope everything's links together properly. I've reached that stage where I've reread a piece of writing so many times, nothing makes sense anymore. I've deliberately left the dishes 'cooked' vague so you're free to imagine whatever cuisine you'd like that Beacrox helped butcher 👍🏼

[andreafmn]

Bound | Chapter 7

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could’ve hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: all of the feels and sadness in this chapter for reader and Bea. But it's a step closer to the reader and Rosalie finally meeting. not gonna lie, this one hurt

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“Don’t you think it’s weird?” (Y/N) muttered as she examined her features in the mirror. “It’s been a couple of years, and my face has not changed at all. Not even a gray hair on my head. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

Bea chuckled as she walked over to the young witch. Her hands rested on her shoulders as she brushed away the strands of hair from her skin and left a soft kiss on it. “Maybe it’s genetics,” she mused. “Just be grateful you don’t have to deal with smile lines and crow’s feet at twenty-three. Now, that’s a travesty.” 

“How could your happiness ever be a bad thing?” (Y/N) smiled. “You’re as beautiful as ever, Bea.” 

“Oh, you only say that,” the girl chuckled. “I would gladly give you the three grays I found in my hair.” 

“My little salt and pepper beauty,” the other witch teased. “I know you’ll look marvelous with an all-white mane.”

“Oh, goddess, I just hope it’s at least twenty years down the line,” Bea whined. “Not anywhere near my twenties or thirties.”  

“Well, maybe you could give some to me,” she laughed. “I’m in serious need of some aging here.” 

“I wish those were my problems,” Bea sighed. “Anyways, as much as I would love to stay here and chat about how your skin and your hair are perfect, I do need to go to school if I ever plan to finish college. I think five years is enough time to have finished already.” 

“Everyone has their own pace, Bea.” 

“Yeah, says the girl who finished her degree in three and a half years and is already finishing her master’s.” 

“Well, not everyone can be me.” 

“Clearly,” she playfully scoffed. “Beautiful and unbelievably intelligent. Save some for the rest of us.” 

 “I’d give it all to you if I could,” (Y/N) smiled. “But for now, you’re going to have to apply yourself in school and embrace your changing body. I know I will.” 

With a hug and a kiss on Bea’s lips, the two young women left the small house and walked onto the village center to head to the coven’s entry point. They chatted amongst themselves, enjoying the cold air of October, when Margaret, a coven elder, stopped them in their tracks. 

“Good morning, girls,” the woman said. “Are you off to school?” 

“Beatrice is,” (Y/N) answered. “I’m simply escorting her.” 

“Well then, why don’t we leave that to Russell?” Margaret asked but both girls knew it was an instruction. “I fear I must steal you away, (Y/N). It’s a rather urgent matter.” 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Oh, nothing you have to worry about, Beatrice,” she smiled. “But I do need to speak with her.” 

“Russell will get you to school and back safe,” (Y/N) assured, smiling at the awaiting man. “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

“Alright,” Bea sighed. “I’ll see you then.” 

(Y/N) watched as Bea and Russell disappeared through the trees, one second there and the next gone. As much as she wanted to take off running after them, the last thing she would ever do was disobey an elder. If their instruction did not go against anything she believed, there was no chance she would ignore them. 

“Come on now, (Y/N),” Margaret called her attention. “Off to my cabin.” 

The girl followed the woman to her home, running a million scenarios in her head. She knew there were no rules she had broken, and she doubted it had anything to do with her human and witch studies. (Y/N) had always been on top of it all. She had even been assigned the role of mentor only two years before. Clearly, she had been doing something right. 

“Is something the matter, Margaret?” the girl asked as they finally reached the witch’s house, nerves building far too high for her. 

 “I was wondering the same thing, (Y/N),” the woman smiled brightly. “I just couldn’t help but notice that in the last–give or take–six years of your life, your face has remained as young as it was then. Not a single sign of aging.”

“Oh, that,” (Y/N) chuckled awkwardly as she looked down. She had been working tirelessly to find answers by herself, but no one seemed to be able to give her what she needed. Not even her magical books had given her what she had been looking for. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about that just yet. But I promise I have been looking everywhere for answers. ”

“Why don’t you have a seat, little one?” Margaret invited her to sit on the rocking chairs that lived on her wooden porch, grabbing a worn-out book from a shelf by the entrance of her home. “I think it is safe to assume your search for answers has been rendered fruitless. There’s no surprise there. Not much has been recorded about your particular situation.” 

“My situation? I can’t say I’m following what you’re saying, ma’am. What situation could I be in? ”

“Do you remember the teachings about soul pairings, my child?” (Y/N) nodded, unsure of where the conversation was leading. “I am sure you also remember the teachings of other supernatural beings that share our spaces. This journal right here belonged to my great-great-grandmother...” 

“Lady Esther?” the young witch interrupted. “Those are the personal writings of our first High Priestess?” 

The woman smiled at (Y/N)’s eagerness, but it pained her to know that excitement would soon die down. “Grandmother Esther made sure to record each and every situational encounter she had, preserving a possible solution to the most curious of cases. The books have been passed down from generation to generation to aid in scenarios such as yours, where not even supernatural logic makes too much sense,” she laughed. “As soon as I saw the signs, I remembered a story she had written in her personal journal–this book has been open only to our family’s eyes. When she was younger, she went through the same thing you are right now.”  

“Signs? What signs have there been?” 

“Well, the inability to age is one of them,” Margaret said. “There’s also the night of your alleged magical resurgence. And before you ask, yes, Beatrice spoke to me about it because she was worried that it could be something bad. There’s also your new ability to heal quicker than others. For example, the cut that you had two months ago that seemed to heal overnight.” 

“I just thought after that night, my magic was different,” (Y/N) mumbled. “So, you’re saying this has happened before? To High Priestess Esther?”  

“That is correct, my dear. And she was just as confused as you are,” she rocked. Margaret flipped through the pages until she landed on the specific date she was looking for, handing the open book to the expectant girl. “It was a hard time to be a witch back then–not that it’s any easier now–but somehow she had managed to skate by unnoticed. One day, she noticed her face had stopped aging, and so had her mother. Her face seemed to be frozen in time, but she didn’t know why. That was until she met the immortal Samuel.”  

“A vampire?”  Margaret nodded in confirmation. “But I’m not sure I understand. How did meeting Samuel affect her physical status?”  

“You’re rushing the story, my child,” Margaret chuckled. The girl was itching for answers, but patience was something the elder always taught. “There’s a reason I mentioned soul pairings earlier. When we are born and reborn, fragments of our soul enter the lives of others, tethering them to ours. Throughout your life, you might meet some of your soulmates, yet no connection will be as strong as the bound soul. Not many find them in their lifetime. The lucky few that do experience a love like no other. That’s what Samuel was to Esther—the love of a lifetime. Are you following?” 

“I believe so. They had a supernatural connection that tied their lives together. Mind, body, and soul.”  

“You’ve always been a smart one, (Y/N),” the woman chuckled joyfully before she continued. “As the years went on, Esther started to tie loose ends together. The reason she was never changing was because he was never changing. Bound souls are connected, body and soul. When Samuel had been turned into a vampire and, in turn, immortal, so did she. Esther wrote about how, after the first encounter, her magic was stronger, and her connection to the elements felt surreal. But the love she felt when she was with him was something unparalleled to anything she had experienced in this lifetime.” 

“But if she’s immortal, how come we’ve never met her? How are you here? Vampires can’t procreate.” 

“In those times, vampires were still heavily hunted. Samuel had gone into town one day and, unfortunately, never made it back home. They shared thirty beautiful years building a life together, isolated from society. Living in the shadows, doing their best to survive. Unfortunately, once Samuel’s life ended, so did Esther’s immortality. Her life cycle had regained its normalcy,” Margaret sighed. “She had been devastated for a long time. She describes how she felt her body was hollowed out and her magic began to falter. “Fortunately, she found love again in the man who was my great-great-grandfather, Abraham. They made a family together, creating our coven,” she smiled. “Esther never forgot Samuel, carrying his memory close to her heart every day that passed until her death after approximately 140 years of life. Her story now is not unlike yours. Though supernatural beings have now learned and adapted to the ever-changing society.”  

“But this means that as time goes by, everyone I love will pass, and I will continue on being as I am today,” (Y/N) stated, tears burning the corners of her eyes. “How do I cope with losing all the people closest to me whilst I have no foreseeable ending to this life?”  

“Death is something we all must endure, one day or another. Even immortal beings face mortality in many ways. How to handle the inevitability of death is a very personal thing. In time, you’ll learn the best way to accept it.”  

“But that means…” 

“Yes, (Y/N). You’ll one day go through the pain of seeing Beatrice pass,” the woman confirmed. “I know it will be hard, my child. But it is a moment you must endure. You have her entire lifetime to enjoy by her side. Don’t let the inevitability of her passing stop you from living.” 

The young witch remained silent as warm tears burned their way down her skin. She had grown accustomed to death from a young age. That wasn’t the problem. (Y/N) had lost her mother when she had been all but fifteen years of age, and her father had passed long before she could even remember his voice. It wasn’t death that scared her. It was living after Beatrice. What pained the girl beyond repair was that not only could she not give Bea the life she dreamed of, she couldn’t even give her the life they had planned. 

(Y/N) wouldn’t be able to grow old beside her, taunting each other about who had more white hair. She would never get to the point where they would both need canes to walk or salves and ointments for their aching joints. No. She would only be able to watch it happen to Bea while she remained the very image she saw staring back at her in the mirror. There would be no aging pains for her, no shriveling skin or weakening bones. All there would be was her and the passage of time. 

As the hours passed, it dawned on the young woman what she had to do. As much as it broke her heart, there was nothing else that would make sense for her future. If she had no chance at her happy ever after, she’d make sure that at least Beatrice would. 

She couldn’t have known how much time had passed, but when the sound of Bea’s laughter by the door rang through the house, the sun had already set. (Y/N) peeked her head out the bedroom door to find the girl saying her goodbyes to the lovestruck Russell, a bouquet of roses hanging from her right hand. 

The young witch saw possibility there. She saw right before her eyes everything she could never give her. She saw the life they had always dreamed of, the life only one of them would be able to live. 

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” Bea said as she hung her coat on the rack. “Russell invited me out to the movies. I forgot to call.”

“It’s okay,” (Y/N) responded, trying her best to conceal the sadness that had sunk its claws into her throat.  

But she couldn’t. At the tone of her voice, the raven-haired girl turned around and crossed the room in an instant. “What’s the matter?” she asked as she led them toward their couch, sitting beside (Y/N), her hands gripping hers comfortingly. “What did Margaret say?”

“I-I, uh,” (Y/N) stammered, unable to get the words out. 

And before she could say anything else, Bea noticed the tears that brimmed (Y/N)’s eyes. Her eyes were already red and puffy, a testament to the pain she was already feeling. “What’s wrong, Rubs?” she questioned worriedly. “Is it bad?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if it is or not,” she sighed. “But it’s gonna change everything, Bea. It’s already changed me.”

“Sweetheart, you’re scaring me,” Bea said. “What’s going on, (Y/N)? What changed since this morning?” 

(Y/N) could feel her breaths staggering, the nerves coursing through her veins making her tremble under the weight of the inevitable. This was it—the moment when she would lose it all. With a heavy heart, the witch set off to explain all that Margaret had told her. She told her about Samuel and Esther, about bound souls, and vampires and witches. Finally, she told her what it all meant to her. The very reason both their lives would never be the same. “She said the reason I haven’t shown any sign of aging and I had that odd attack that night was because my soul is most likely tethered to a vampire,” she explained, fighting the new tears that threatened to spill across her cheeks. “I’m never gonna age, Bea. Everyone around me will grow and die, and I will stay just as you see me right now before you. I don’t know how I could ever give you the life you’ve always wanted.” 

Bea rose from her seat as though it had burned her. Her thoughts spiraled and sparked inside her head before she could process anything that (Y/N) was saying. None of it made sense to her. She was a witch and knew of the existence of many other supernatural beings. But that? That she couldn’t get her mind around. 

The girl pressed her palms to her eyes, stopping the tears before they stained her face, but not before they pooled around her eyes and mixed with the black of her makeup. She was distraught, unwinding at the seams, unable to process her emotions properly. Bea couldn’t grasp that those would be their last moments together as they were.

“What does this mean for us, (Y/N)?” the girl asked. “What are you gonna do?” 

“I wish I could tell you I had it all figured out, Bea, but I don’t,” she cried. “I don’t want to lose you, that’s for sure. I just don’t know what I can offer you.” 

“What about school and all that? You just got accepted to Yale. How are you gonna be a lawyer like this?” 

“I don’t know, Bea!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about any of that just yet. I just found out that I’m immortal today. There’s nothing laid out just yet.” 

The younger witch knew what (Y/N) was saying without words, and she also knew she wouldn’t say the words even if they were the only ones that had to be said. Bea wanted to believe there was a way to fight the inevitable—find a sliver of hope in the midst of their dark reality. 

“You deserve everything you’ve ever wanted, Bea,” the older witch broke the silence softly. She took tentative steps towards the other, softly wrapping her arms around the unconsolable woman. Bea leaned into her touch, even though her body screamed to get away until it was all resolved. “You deserve a wedding, you deserve kids, you deserve the big house with the even bigger garden, you deserve someone to grow old with. And as much as I wish I could give you that and the entire universe, I can’t. I can only give myself, darling, and I promise I’ll try my hardest to make you the happiest you can be with whatever time we have.” 

“You can’t promise that, (Y/N),” Bea whimpered. “As much as we want to, neither of us can promise that.”

“Why not?” she cried. “I love you more than anything in this universe. That’s enough for me.” 

“It’s only gonna be enough for now,” the younger girl sighed defeatedly. “We can’t exist on love alone, sweetheart. I wish it were that easy.” 

“What are you saying, Bea?” 

“I think it’s best that you move to Connecticut, set yourself up over there while you’re going to school,” she said, swallowing the sadness that threatened to wreck her. She had to be strong for (Y/N). She had to be strong for them both. “After, you’re gonna have to move from place to place. Never stay too long in one city or state. Never go back there until anyone that could remember you is alive.” 

“I could just stay here,” (Y/N) offered, knowing it wasn’t going to be an option. “I don’t have to ever leave the village. We could have a life here.:  

“You know that’s not possible, sweetheart,” Bea sighed. “Maybe back in the days of Esther, but I know you’ll grow angsty. You have dreams, (Y/N). You have goals you want to accomplish. You can’t stay here and wait until I die for you to start living. I couldn’t live with myself if you did.” 

“What about what I want?” she said in a voice so broken that it almost shattered Bea’s resolution. It made her wonder if there truly was a way for them to work out. But she knew. “What if all I want is you, Bea?” 

“You’ll do great things, beautiful,” she said as she turned in (Y/N)’s arms and ran her fingers through her hair. “I know everything you do will be as amazing as you are. You will go on and do all these things and see the world, and I’ll always be here, cheering you on from the sidelines.” 

“What am I supposed to do without you, Bea? We were supposed to be forever.” 

“And you’ll have forever, (Y/N),” she smiled sadly. “I won’t. And I can’t steal away a part of your life because of it. Don’t ask me to do that.” 

(Y/N) gazed into Bea’s eyes as tears blurred her vision, trying her best to plead with just one look. “You wouldn’t be stealing any part of my life, Bea,” she trembled. “You’ve shown me a life I could have. A life with you would be a life fulfilled. Why can’t that be enough?” 

“Maybe in another life, it could be,” Bea whimpered. She placed her hands tenderly on the girl’s cheeks, softly wiping away the tears that didn’t seem to stop. “But it wasn’t meant to be in this one, my sweetheart. We had the years we did, and they will always be the best of my life. And what gives me a respite is that you will have so many great years after me because I just know your life will be glorious and that I’ll continue to love you every day until I take my last breath.  And I know you’ll be happy—even after me, you’ll be happy.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t find words as they knotted in her throat. Her eyes felt like an open faucet as tears fell faster than she could hold them back. All she could do was wrap her arms around Bea and hold her as tight as she could. Because for that moment, she was still there, they were still possible. For that moment, she could pretend they were forever.

And that’s what she did every day and every night for the coming three months. (Y/N) would hold Bea as though she’d turn to dust the second she let go. There was not a moment she didn’t spend with the younger witch. She even pretended to be excited about the cross-state move, showing the girl apartment listings and bringing her to buy whatever she’d need for it. Maybe if she acted like she was all for the move, there would come a day when she would be. 

There was one thing she was sure of, at the end of those three months, she’d be losing the greatest love of her life. And before she could truly prepare herself, the day had come. 

“Time flew too fast, didn’t it?” Bea whispered from the bed, watching through hazy eyes as the witch walked from side to side, gathering all she needed for the long trip to Connecticut. “Can’t believe the day is finally here.” 

“Yeah,” (Y/N) sighed quietly, whispering her next words. “Kind of wished today never came.” 

“Do you have everything you need? Remember, you’re supposed to meet up with Lance over there. He is part of our sister coven over there and knows everything about your situation.”

“Yes, Beatrice. I know what I have to do,” she spat unintentionally. “You’ve had this planned out for three months already. Almost feels like you can’t wait for me to go.” 

“You know that’s not true,” Bea bit back quickly. “The last thing I want is to lose you, (Y/N). But we both know that it simply wouldn’t work. Not in this lifetime.” 

“It could have worked,” (Y/N) cried. She didn’t care that she’d have to redo her makeup or that she’d have puffy red eyes during her train ride; she simply allowed the tears that had never seemed to stop to fall free. “If you would have given us a chance, it would have worked.” 

“For what, sweetheart?” the girl questioned softly, unable to meet the same bark that (Y/N) had. She was sad, she was weak, she was losing her everything. “You grow restless when we stay merely a day in this house. What makes you think you’d last sixty years?” 

“I could do it for you, Bea.” (Y/N) walked to their bed and sat by Bea, taking one of her hands in hers. “I would give my entire life to be with you.” 

“That’s a price I’m not willing to let you pay,” she whispered softly, using her free hand to caress (Y/N)’s wettened cheek. “You need to let me go, (Y/N). You need to let me let you go. It’s the only way either of us will be able to make the choices we need to make for our futures.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can,” Bea smiled tenderly. “You could tell the sun to stop shining, and it would. You can do anything, (Y/N) Carmine.” 

“But I don’t want to.” 

“You have to,” she continued. “Go. See the world. Get your degrees. Open the law firm you’ve always dreamed of. Help supernatural folks like you’ve wanted. I’ll be here, always. Getting old and loving you. But don’t stay stuck. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me.” 

Without another word, (Y/N) kissed Bea’s lips and gathered all she would need for the trip. The air inside the house was thick with pain and sadness, but neither girl made another mention of it. They simply let things be until it was time for her to go. 

Russell had come to help with her bags, putting them in one of the few cars the village owned. He knew all that had been happening under the girls’ roof, but he never judged, never put in his two cents, and never, ever, turned them away. Maybe because he was smitten with Bea or because he respected his friendship with (Y/N), but he’d never looked at them any differently than he did everyone else. 

“We’re just about ready to go,” he announced from the doorway. “Car is packed and running.” 

“Thank you, Russell,” (Y/N) smiled softly. “‘I’ll be out in a moment.” 

With a tip of his hat, he turned to leave the girls to say their goodbyes. It was the last moment they’d ever look as young as each other. Beauty stuck in time, and love perfectly conserved in the image of a memory. That’s how (Y/N) wanted to remember them: young, happy, and full of love. 

“I’ll come back every year,” she whispered to Bea as she cradled her cheeks. “Every single year, no matter what.” 

“And I’ll be waiting,” Bea smiled, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’ll always be waiting by Bound Soul’s Bank. Every year, to the day, I’ll be there. Even when I’m old and frail and can barely walk, I’ll be there.” 

“You are my sun,” (Y/N) cried shakily. 

“My moon,” Bea responded in tandem. 

“And all of my stars,” they said in teary unison before sharing a last passionate kiss and a tight hug. 

The last image (Y/N) had of Bea was as she ran through the village behind the running car, yelling words of love and encouragement until there was no trail left to follow and the trees engulfed her figure. 

And with a shattered heart, and the promise of a never-ending future, (Y/N) did the hardest thing she could imagine. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) started to live.

Next ->

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[calbeloved]

have this little thing about dante and leo from my au i have yet to put into actual words and out of my head. gal's here too cause i love him <333

Dante places his hand on Leo's cheek. He makes an effort to keep them still and to not press too hard; Leo will not be able to pull away, even if it will hurt him. He breathes slowly and consistently. There's no reason not to. Leo copies him. Or maybe he is copying Leo- he has been the one breathing almost mechanically perfect for the last two weeks now, while Dante was… not. Panic attacks and shortness of breath and holding it and the attacks of coughing… He tries, but trying is often far from enough.

He slides down his hand further down, passing by the pulse point – still beating, good, but at the same time, it stays unchanging; follows a rhythm and doesn't flutter when Dante reaches out and ghosts his fingers over the skin. It hasn't for a long time, even before all this.

He tries to ignore it. Pretend that it doesn't make his heart skip a beat and ache- that it doesn't make him sick to his stomach.

The hand moves down, breaking contact with skin and instead pausing in the middle of the gray shirt. Leo had never bothered to change his clothes, especially after… after Dante was told everything. It was him that used to nag Leo about it. They used to go shopping together, when money finally was enough to do so. Before Leo left, of course. Now he just stands here. Unmoving. Just breathing, yet not quite alive.

The tattoos covering his skin are hidden under the shirt, yet Dante remembers well enough (perfectly, he can never forget, he was there) where they are for it to hurt. His hand moves as the lungs inside Leo's body expand and compress, unchanging. Always the same, no matter what he does. The heart beats. He feels it thumping, and wonders if this is better than Leo dying.

Because… He's not here. He's not alive, not really.

(He hadn't been for a long time before this, too. Leo has never really been Leo, not when Dante knew him, anyway. And yet it hurts. It hurts so much.)

But maybe it counts for something. He's here, after all. Dante visits and he sees Leo, and knows that his body will be safe, at the very least.

He cannot say the same for many people he loves. For any of them.

“Well? Can we go now? It's boring in here.”

Dante scowls.

“You could have a bit of respect, you know,” he mutters, yet moves away just the slightest bit. He turns his head and meets Gal's gaze; the man is raising an eyebrow and leaning on the wall with crossed arms.

Still, where Dante goes, Gal follows, so Dante looks back at Leo without much rush.

Gal scoffs. He doesn't move any closer, though, so he's not as impatient as he tries to pretend he is.

“He's my friend. You can wait 2 minutes.” Dante doesn't bring up that he himself was waiting for Gal to do his makeup for at least 20 minutes yesterday- Gal is surely aware he's referring to it.

“What-ever. He was my friend too, but you don't see me groveling at his feet, do you?”

Dante doesn't answer. He brings his hand up back to Leo's cheek and just tries not to think about hugging him. It sounds nice, but he knows not feeling Leo hugging him back would make him cry. He already feels unstable enough today. There's no need for that.

He just traces the bones under the skin and passes his fingers through Leo's hair and tries not to feel too sick that his friend doesn't react.

“...we should leave now, if we want to go to that store. The movie is starting soon.” Gal says eventually, and it sounds a bit more softer this time. Awkward, yes, but nice, nonetheless.

“Yeah.” Dante doesn't hug Leo. He stares into his eyes instead; those empty irises that don't focus on anything anymore. “Yeah.”

And so he leaves. Doesn't say anything as Gal nudges him to walk first. Doesn't think about the fact that he was supposed to watch this movie with Bea. Doesn't try his best to remember the last time Leo smiled at him- he cannot, because it's been too long.

He just reaches out his hand and waits until Gal grips it to dig his fingers into it. At least one person will stay. That's always something.

[suseagull04]

⛺️ for RWRB - any pairing you like, or maybe a pre-canon family outing?

Pre-canon family outing was immediately intriguing- I'm sure there are 1,000 versions of this, but I hope you enjoy it!

Henry had no idea what they were doing out here, but he loved every minute of it! Anytime he was away from the palace (and Gran) was all right by him.

His dad had wanted to leave after lunch, but Mum had had some conference or other she couldn't skive off, so they arrived significantly later than anticipated. By the time the tents were set up on their campsite, it was way past Henry's usual bedtime, and he was loving every minute of this rare chance to stay up for an evening.

Once everything was set up, his dad got out some of the food he had brought, crackers and marshmallows and Cadbury, before he started getting a fire going.

Henry's eyes got big, knowing they were about to have a treat, but his mum dashed his hopes. “Arthur, I don't know if s’mores are such a good idea. It's already way past Henry's bedtime. Look how he's already fighting to keep his eyes open.”

Henry stubbornly widened his eyes, trying as hard as he could to keep them open. “I'm not sleepy.”

Both adults chuckled. Henry thought it was annoying. He was serious, after all. He didn't want to miss a minute of the trip!

“How about this,” his dad suggested. “They can have one s’more- just one, Cat- and then I'll take them stargazing for a little while. That'll make them tired, I'm positive.”

His mum still seemed unsure, but then she nodded slowly. “Oh, all right then.”

That was how Bea and an elated Henry found themselves lying on a blanket in the middle of the biggest clearing their dad could find on such short notice.

“Look above you, kids,” Arthur instructed. Henry thought it was really weird to call his dad by his name, but thanks to the press, he thought of both of his parents as both Mom and Dad and the names the world knew them by. “What have you learned about what the stars are?”

“Balls of gas,” Bea repeated, likely glad her teachers had just taught her that last year.

“Good job, princess!” their dad praised her. “But did you know the stars sometimes form pictures in the sky?”

“Really?” Henry and Bea inquired in unison.

“Of course! Haven't we found pictures in the clouds before?” When Henry and his sister nodded, he continued, “It's the same thing, really. There's a king, his queen and their princess, even a dragon and a bear if you look hard enough.”

Bea had about a million questions, but Henry only had one. “Which one's your favorite?”

Arthur smiled. “You can't see my favorite right now. Orion doesn't start his hunt until the winter’s about to come.” He cleared his throat. “When he does arrive, though, he's the easiest constellation to see. His belt are three stars right in a row in the night sky.” He pointed and drew the line with his finger for emphasis.

Henry listened intently as his father taught them everything he knew about the night sky. He knew when winter nights came, the first thing he'd be searching for was Orion.

[victorjbanisfamilyfoundation]

Abridged version of when Victor J. Banis was indicted for obscenity charges, from his memoir 'Spine Intact, Some Creases' (it hops around from chapter to further along chapter). Seemed relevant right now, especially what he decided to do in the end.

Alt Text:

Curiouser and Curiouser. I kept the appointment as arranged and found that I was to be charged, along with ten others, with Conspiracy to Distribute Obscene Material. I met my fellow conspirators – Milt Luros and his wife, Bea, the owners of Brandon House and a number of other publishing operations; Mel Friedman, of course; Bernie Abramson, who headed their shipping department; Stanley Sohler, Harold Straubing and Paul Wisner, who were editors; Elmer Batters, a free lance photographer; and two other free lance writers besides myself – Sam Merwin and Richard Geis. The others were each of them hit with a variety of charges but I was included only in the first, blanket conspiracy charge, a fact which would ultimately prove significant.

Conspiracy? Didn’t that require some form of communication among the conspirators? I had never met any of these people before, nor communicated with them in any manner. Indeed, until we met at the Federal Building, I had never even heard their names. The only person from the Luros publishing business with whom I had communicated – except for the call the day before from Mel Friedman – was the editor who had written regarding my book, and his only suggestion had been to expand its length. There had been no suggestions, veiled or otherwise, to ‘spice up’ the book in any way, as would later be suggested in court, or to address myself to anyone’s prurient interests. Gloria’s melons were entirely my own. Anyway, that editor wasn’t among my indicted co-conspirators.

It was all a bit Kafka-esque. The more so when, as we were leaving the courtroom, I was met by a man who introduced himself as Donald Schoof, Chief Postal Inspector for the Los Angeles area. I later learned that it was Mister Schoof who had headed the so-called investigation and brought the charges against us. Mister Schoof asked to speak with me alone; apparently the others were all known to him but I was a paperback virgin, so to speak. Or almost, anyway, which I have always thought ought to count in those matters. Mister Schoof muttered (muttered, I swear it, just like a bad gangster movie) that he could make things easier for me if I would care to switch sides and cooperate with the government.

Now, at the time, I had no problems with cooperating with the government. I had always considered myself a good citizen, if not a model one, and had never set out to commit any crime. Up until now my only courtroom experience was in Dayton, Ohio in 1956, when an angry wife named me as co-respondent in a divorce case.

But it did seem to me that if this Mister Schoof’s interest was in making things easier for me, the best time to have approached me might have been before I was charged with a crime of which I was so patently innocent. I have always been a devout coward. And after that debacle in the divorce court I certainly wanted no more legal entanglements. To be honest, had someone taken the trouble to romance me beforehand (candlelight and soft music are givens in this scenario) I would probably in the afterglow of consummation have blabbed everything I knew about Milt Luros – which was of course absolutely nothing. But didn’t they already know that? Looking back, I can see that what I was really guilty of was criminal innocence. I hadn’t a clue. In my defense, I might point out that I had not bought those initial paperbacks from ‘under the counter;’ no plain brown wrappers, no hasty swaps in darkened doorways. I had walked into a store in broad daylight, had taken them directly from the racks on the walls, and forked over my money. How could I have guessed that forking so openly might involve anything illegal?

I scorned Mister Schoof’s advances. Anyway, his approach struck me as a bit too ‘after the fact.’ I was indignant at being so falsely charged, and kiss me where he might, Mister Schoof was not going to have me on his mattress willingly. I thought then – and think still – that if they had done a sufficient investigation to bring all these charges against all these people, they must certainly have known that this was a first time effort from me and that I had never met with – let alone conspired with – any of these people.

Besides, when I went home and reread Gloria, I was convinced that someone from the other camp had only to get around to reading this lovely book to realize at once what a mistake had been made.

As I said before, Milt Luros’ critics dubbed him the ‘King of Pornography.’ Actually he was one of the nicest people I had ever met, a soft spoken New Yorker and a true gentleman in the most old fashioned sense of the word. An artist himself, Milt had set out to print quality art books. In short time he found art books entirely unprofitable – but he was able to make money printing sexually related material – initially for others but eventually for his own companies. The Federal Government did not like the material he printed. It seemed that manhood and melon breasts were corrupting society. And as I said earlier, federal law allowed charges to be brought not only where the material was shipped from or to, but anywhere it was shipped through. In our case the charges had been brought and the trial would be held in Sioux City, Iowa, even though none of the material involved was ever available in Sioux City, Iowa. I can say for a fact that my Gloria would not have been found dead in Sioux City. I myself went with the greatest reluctance. The idea apparently was not so much that the government thought they might get convictions on these charges but that by bringing repeated charges and forcing Luros to defend himself over and over again in small towns and cities around the country (at that time, there were trials pending in two other locations, one in Texas and I have forgotten the other) they could bankrupt him – or convince him to give up the business.

The trials were expensive. Including people like myself and the other writers and freelancers who came to Sioux City made it all the more expensive. Partly for his own protection and partly because it was his nature, Milt picked up the tab for everyone and did so in the grand manner. The ‘best’ hotel in Sioux City was only a Holiday Inn but that was where Milt stayed and that was where we all stayed. We ate in the same restaurants, flew the same flights back and forth when he did – there was no attempt to save pennies by limiting our share of the expenses. It was generous indeed of Milt – and costly. By the time I got to Sioux City I had come to realize that my indictment had really nothing much to do with me or with Gloria or the desire of the U.S. Authorities to see me in prison, though that might well have been the result. The real reason I was there was to help run up the tab.

All of the pulp publishers of the time had their own attorneys however, who performed the same sort of service. In time I came to see that virtually everything these publishers did was done with one eye on the legal arena. As more and more charges were brought and more material defended in courtrooms, the Courts – particularly the U.S. Supreme Court – struggled to find a coherent legal definition for obscenity. The legal stratagems advised by the publishers’ attorneys changed and developed accordingly.

Two of the key elements handed down by the Supreme Court during this time were that (in order to be considered obscene) the material must, ‘taken as a whole, appeal to the prurient interest of the reader,’ and that it must be ‘utterly without redeeming social value.’ By the mid-sixties it was common for paperback novels to include on their covers or front page blurbs quoting various authorities or ‘experts’ on sexual behavior. So my Stranger at the Door from Greenleaf in 1967 quoted at length Alex Comfort’s book, Sex in Society (1963): ‘Forms of behavior have to be considered in the light of their unconscious origin, in the light of what is customary or tolerated in a given culture, and in the light of the part they play in the individual’s mental economy – of who does what and when and where. It is disproportionate, if we are interested in the social effects, to lay much emphasis on the kind of physical variation or deviation in behavior…’ The actual quote was considerably longer and much in the same vein. I’m not sure that it had any particular relevance to the novel that followed, but it could be seen to supply redeeming social value.

In the late sixties, when ‘case history’ types of non-fiction began to proliferate, these books invariably included an authoritative forward or introduction written by some ‘expert’ – nearly always a Ph.D., though the degree often had nothing at all to do with this field of interest.

In the seventies, books began to appear with out-and-out hardcore photographs. The text that accompanied these action photos addressed psychological and (sometimes peripheral) medical issues and was deliberately written in a dry, scholarly style. It was thought that it would be difficult, hopefully impossible, for a jury considering the work ‘as a whole’ to find this text obscene, whatever they might think of the photographs.

At the time of Gloria, however, and the Sioux City trial, much of that strategy was still in the future. The Affairs of Gloria did have some rather crude drawings, but the sexual element was only vaguely suggested and the people in them were clothed, if sometimes a bit scantily.

Watching these two pros at work was fascinating. And, at least to start, I wasn’t too worried. At this time I still believed that somewhere along the way, someone would look at Gloria and realize a mistake had been made.

And I was a celebrity, if only of a minor sort. Flashbulbs flashed and reporters barked when we arrived at airports, and we made the New York Times (though not the front page). For the record, they had no shortage of words with which to describe us. In Sioux City we were shunned in the manner that every queen comes to recognize and in a perverse way enjoy. We were lepers, but lepers who were the focus of everyone’s attention.

Notwithstanding the interesting companions or circumstances, however, there were ten years in Federal prison hanging over my head. I was young, blond, not unattractive and a bit effeminate. I thought it safe to suppose that, should prison be the outcome, those would not be the cheeriest of years for me.

And that possibility loomed larger as the weeks passed in the courtroom in Sioux City. Besides books the charges involved a handful of nudist magazines as well. Not the hardcore action pics that you can buy in gift shops today, nor even the bare beavers of Hustler or Penthouse. These were more the Sunshine & Health sort of thing – people in the buff playing volley ball, with the occasional limp appendage bouncing about. I suppose someone might have been sexually aroused by the pictures – but then I know people who get turned on looking at pictures of trolleys.

By the by, none of these magazines were sold in Sioux City. Indeed, there was only one shop that sold Playboy, under the counter. You had to ask for it and it came in the proverbial plain brown wrapper. So it was worrisome to watch jurors, charged with determining if this material was obscene, pass magazines from one to another without a glance at them, holding them gingerly by their fingertips as it fearing contamination. Had they even read Gloria, I wondered? I doubted it. More to the point, the indictment named me in a conspiracy charge with all the other defendants so that, though I had nothing at all to do with these magazines – heck, I hadn’t even seen some of them, and never got to – the finding that they were obscene could send me to prison.

I got more nervous still when government witnesses, former employees of the Luroses, testified under oath about my connections with the other defendants – meetings I allegedly attended, phone calls, letters – all fictitious. I could only imagine what threats or promises the Federal prosecutors must have made to get this sort of perjured testimony from frightened witnesses. What if I had accepted Mister Schoof’s invitation to testify against Luros? I knew nothing at all about Luros or his operations and so there was nothing in truth I could have said. But would Schoof and the prosecutors have found a way to force me to say what they wanted said, truth or not? I like to think not but clearly they had accomplished just that feat with other witnesses.

I was soon enough aware that they were not shy about intimidation. The trial hadn’t even begun before my first class mail began to arrive opened (yes, Virginia, it is illegal). Manuscripts were routinely left at my doorstep atop their envelopes, in case I had any doubts that they were being perused.

Was I paranoid or was my Sioux City motel room really bugged? An employee of the motel whispered to me that it was. I don’t know why he would have made up such a story. And Stanley Fleishman, without saying so directly, gave me to understand that it was safest to make that assumption.

So much for justice and the American way. The foreplay was over. The federal government and Mister Schoof had me on the bed and they weren’t going to let me up until they had their vile ways with me. The trial went on. And on. It became less interesting to sit and listen to testimony I knew to be false. At the beginning we had buoyed ourselves with the hope that the Judge would quickly dismiss the case or that the prosecution’s case would prove brief and we would soon be done with it. The indictments had come down in March of 1965. The trial began in October. We hoped to be home by Halloween. Then Thanksgiving. Christmas loomed.

At last in late December the government rested its case. Our side rested its case without presenting one. Fleishman and Foreman were convinced that the charges had not been proven but there was more to their strategy than that. Experience had shown that these cases often went to the appeals courts. That was actually better for the publisher – the results of a local district trial had little impact on the actions of other courts but a ruling by the appeals court was binding on all Federal courts within that district unless overturned by the Supreme Court – in other words, a ruling at the appellate level could work to Luros’ benefit in other courtrooms and to the benefit of other publishers as well.

In a sense, then, offering no defense was virtually asking for a move to the appellate court – and at the same time giving the government no goofs in the defense case to seize upon and use to argue against an appeal.

All well and good, of course. The strategy was a sound one. But I had been abused and misused for four months; and it left us heading home for a Christmas recess with the outcome still unresolved. Not a very merry Christmas present.

Needless to say we did finally get to the ground intact, if not unsoiled. I vowed that I would never again set foot in an airplane. We arrived at the Federal Courthouse only a few minutes late – and within a few minutes more the judge had dismissed the conspiracy count of the indictment. Which meant effectively that he had dismissed me. Acquitted, I was free to go – to spend several days returning back to Los Angeles by bus or train, or renege on my vow and hop a plane.

Still I was free. My co-defendants proved not so lucky. They were convicted by the Sioux City jury, those uptight – sorry, I meant upright – men and women who had declined even to look at the evidence presented to them. In time those convictions were overturned on appeal, as our attorneys had foreseen, but my co-defendants would spend the intervening time wondering if they were on their way to prison and live out their lives with the stigma of a federal conviction. Was Justice served, I asked?

‘Justice was served,’ Dick Geis answered me with understandable bitterness. ‘She was served her head on a platter.’

For me, the bottom line was that my innocence was gone forever. I had been screwed in no uncertain terms. And we all know what that means for your virginity. I felt sore and violated. I came home from Sioux City with a burning resentment for the callous disregard that the government had displayed for what I considered some pretty fundamental rights I thought guaranteed by our constitution. There’s a reason that the founding fathers put freedom of speech right up there at the beginning. Without that, the rest doesn’t amount to a hill of beans, does it?

And it had all been for naught, as I saw it. It can be a mistake attempting to explain the thought processes of others, but one would have to suppose that in part, at least, the governmental individuals involved in indicting me must have assumed that they could discourage me from any further activity in the paperback business. Ironically, the result was exactly the opposite.

Under other circumstances, I’m not sure that I would have had much interest in pursuing a paperback writing career; Gloria had been fun but a whim, really. Certainly I had no interest in a career writing of faux lesbians.

I was still hurting, however, and I felt practically compelled to write at least one or two more books, to show the Federales (and myself) that I had not been intimidated. Well, if I am going to be entirely honest, I have to mention that I quickly discovered that the books were easy to do, for me at any rate. And they paid money.

The only problem was, I had decided I wanted to write gay books, and if lesbians incited government censors to action, writing about gay males doing the deed was like waving red panties in front of a horny bull. The postal authorities and the courts, all the way up to the Supreme Court, had already proclaimed that sort of dalliance a no-no. Two men holding hands was enough to render a book obscene, as these folks saw it. Holding anything else was blasphemy, at the very least.

I continued to write for Brandon House Books, heterosexual and lesbian-bisexual novels; none, I’m sure, of any real merit. Not even out of respect for our common travail, however, would Milt Luros venture into homosexual waters, nor was I able to generate any interest among the other paperback publishers of the day. By now they all knew who I was. Paperback publishing in those days was a small town and I had paid my dues by taking my lumps along with Luros and company. Everyone was eager to see something from me in the heterosexual or lesbian vein, but even the bravest of them were convinced gay books would be like dropping their pants with little hope of satisfaction.

Well, as everyone knows, when a guy gets really hot for something he isn’t usually much inclined to be discouraged. I remained stubbornly convinced that there was a large and largely untapped market for gay books. The Stonewall uprising wouldn’t happen until 1969, but already by 1965 gays were coming out of their closets.

In 1965 I wrote my first gay novel, The Why Not. The Why Not of the title was a bar my friends and I frequented, actually called The Castaways but dubbed The Why Not by my secretary, Lady Agatha, because the usual conversation on a weekend was, ‘Are you coming to the bar tonight?’, ‘Why not?’ The book was essentially a collection of vignettes describing my experiences with the bar and its habitués.

[violivs]

NMTDaily: Q&A (Bea and Hero’s first Q&A video)

- Okay, I took a brief break from my rewatch liveblog, but I’m back. Let’s do this.

- “But first, tea!” Cute little teacup cheers animation and sound effect!

- Wait, also, this is another moment of Bea’s hypocrisy and the things she has in common with Ben being exposed! Miss No One Needs Tea actually IS a tea-drinker! (And Ben is still watching her videos at this point, I wonder if he noticed that…)

- Sigh. Content warning: Harry Potter. I continue to be aggressively furious with JKR. Ten years ago I would have never thought HP would become inextricable from a vitriolic hate group, and it breaks my heart every time I think about it. How trans people are suffering at the hands of that woman, most importantly. But also how she took away my ability to enjoy the series that got me through a bleak early adolescent onset of my anxiety disorders, AND she’s retroactively corrupting my comfort media by association now too. Boo. Hiss. Let’s move on.

- There IS some good character work in this Hogwarts House discussion section though. More foreshadowing of Pedro failing to live up to his brave, heroic image. Meg being a Slytherin. Bea thinking Ben would be a Muggle. It is interesting to think about what could replace this discussion today in terms of media references. I really don’t know.

- Hero being uncomfortable when Bea brings up Claudio and her being matching is interesting. I guess they aren’t officially official yet. And then she gets revenge by bringing up Benedick, lol. Perfect.

- Bea makes fun of her a bit again about the holidaying in the South of France, not really sure what to make of that.

- Bea catching that question and refusing to be tricked into saying Ben is her friend, and still refusing to watch his channel. Hilarious and plot-important.

- Arch-nemesis, what a strong word! Remember the fanart transforming Kate Beaton’s Nemesis comic to be about Ben having a photo of his nemesis Beatrice above his bed? I loved that, but now I think Beatrice should’ve been the star of her own version of that, lol.

- I love her making fun of Ben’s channel icon, because I still think that icon was a perfect character choice. Exactly the kind of deeply cringe nonsense that Benedick MuchAdo would and should do in a modern AU, I love it. And I love that Beatrice hates it. Perfect.

- “You have to pick a side, you pick my channel or you pick his!” “You do know you’re not the only two channels on YouTube?” Lol get her Hero!

- Just hollering again because Ben is definitely gonna watch this video and see Bea talking about their past I’m!!!!!

- I know what it’s like to be a kid and have a group of kids you only see during summer but who all see each other year-round, and you never feel as close to those people as they are to each other. So I understand why Bea might feel resentful that all her Auckland friends are still friends with Ben year-round, especially after she had such a falling out with him.

- “Like he does with his newest most bestest friend thing, he latched on to me as the other new kid in the group” MY HEART.

- Ben was clearly still struggling with being the new kid, and saw someone who related a bit to that and wanted to bond over it! Oh my GOD he is just the embodiment of the Puss-in-Boots-being-a-cute-kitten-with-huge-wet-eyes gif to me and I cannot help being absolutely in love. Protect this lonely baby!!!!!

- HE KNEW SHE WAS LEAVING AT THE END OF SUMMER. He was ripping off the band-aid early by pushing her away. We know he genuinely didn’t know his feelings for her were romantic at all at the time, so all Ben knew was Bea was trying to get closer to him right as he was about to lose her, and he was giving them both an out because it already hurt too much to lose her!!!!! (A HUGE parallel to his behavior of pushing her away ahead of losing her to travel in Lovely Little Losers by the way.)

- And poor Beatrice. She’s already used to maintaining friendships from eight hours away. She would have just taken for granted that she and Ben were going to stay in touch after she went home to Wellington, like she always did with Hero and Pedro. But she also knew she had a crush on Ben, and as soon as she tries to put herself out there in a messy 14-year-old way and create more situations where they’re alone together, Ben starts saying friendships die in three days. Because he doesn’t believe it’s possible to be friends from eight hours away, so why try? And Bea thinks he doesn’t care about her at all and she’s heartbroken.

- If Ben had only been able to communicate that he was scared because he liked her so much and insecure because he’d never had a friend who actually bothered to stay in touch before. If Bea had been able to listen without having her feelings hurt, and actually communicate her own feelings. If they both weren’t terminally fourteen years old about this, they could’ve been friends this entire time.

- Beatrice is SO heartbroken by Ben’s rejection that in the past 3 or 4 YEARS since this went down, she never talked to Hero about it before this video. Not once. And she tells Hero everything. That’s huge.

- “You know my life story now.” That’s how she phrases it. This friendship breakup is a defining event in Beatrice’s life so far. It’s the heartbreak of her life. No wonder she’s so adamant about hating him.

- “Traveling is going to be on the agenda in the next few years” and we already have the setup for Lolilo, not even halfway through NMTD.

- Like really, Lolilo is basically Ben and Bea having the same fight and making the same mistakes as they did when they were fourteen, and yet again finding their way back to each other, finally mature enough to never make the same mistakes a third time.

- Art Curator and Queen of the World. These precious girls.

- Beatrice wants to do something that challenges her and makes her think. She doesn’t want easy street. I love that. (Enjoying a challenge, enjoying learning and thinking, another thing that also applies to Ben.)

- Bea and Hero get along because they have the same sense of humor and they grew up together, they have history. Shows what they value in any kind of relationship, platonic or otherwise.

- I love Hero being sad at the idea of a world where she doesn’t know Bea, she’s so sweet. And Bea finding that emotional stuff gross is also perfect.

- “I think you have more in common with Ben that you do with me.” “Hero I’m going to kill you right now.” Perfect.

- Godddddd the pale blue dress I’m already in pain. Knowing what’s coming just ughhhhhh

- The beaded necklace! I love these two so much, we love sisterhood (cousinhood, you know what I mean)

- Ohhhhh St Miranda’s! I just got it, that’s a The Tempest reference and the magician principal is Prospero, or more likely Prospera a la the movie. I don’t think I had seen or read The Tempest yet when I first watched NMTD, so that went over my head. I knew it was a Shakespeare reference but it’s only now that I understand it.

- (About Pedro) “I can be myself around him, we just know each other really well” and again I’m in PAIN augh the foreshadowing

- Do we think Bea really doesn’t know that her name means Blessed? Interesting. Love that they worked that detail in.

- Saying goodbye in German? Well Hero is clearly a Sound of Music fan, lol. Well, that or Cabaret, but she strikes me as a Sound of Music girl.

- Reminding the audience that we don’t really know her outside of this channel, thanking everyone for their kindness and good questions, backhanding the ones who asked about Ben with “MOST of the questions were really good and not annoying at all”. Lol, way to model a mostly healthy relationship with your audience, Bea! I mean that genuinely. Boundaries are important. Even though you’re fictional.

- “Why are you watching us? We’re not that interesting.” This line will be paralleled somewhat in Bea and Hero’s final video.

- And all their favorite YouTubers in the description box! Mostly OG British YouTubers I haven’t thought about in years. That was a blast from the past!

- Thank you comment section for pointing out that Hero chose to include a question sent in by Benedick! She left out his name so Bea wouldn’t notice, but he’s the one who asked “how much of yourself do you put in your videos” and Bea said it was an interesting question. I love that.

- He wants to know how genuine the things she says in her videos are and he wants advice as a fellow YouTuber at the same time, and she lets him know that she’s for real. That has to hurt given the things she’s said about him, but he could also take from this video that he matters to her, or she wouldn’t still be so upset about their falling out. Whether he does understand that from this video is another question- probably not. Not yet.

- Someone in the comments, AlashiaTuol, is a genius, pointing out that Bea jokingly telling Hero to pick a side between herself and Ben is a direct parallel to a much more serious “pick a side” conversation Ben is going to have. I love that call.

- Another commenter said what I’m always thinking when I rewatch this series: “I’m so glad this exists!”

💖🥭🦩

[onthewaytosomewhere]

"... and that's when there was no going back." For firstprince plz!

ok this one got written in between dancing in the street (literally) cuz once i thought of it i couldn't get out of it's grip

so Nico luv i bring to you Henry spilling all his secrets (well at leat one big one) in a live(?) interview so he can get alex back post the lake house and b4 alex would have made his mad-dash for the castle

hope ya like :)

It has been two days since he left the lake house in Texas, and Henry is in the middle of yet another interview, pitching yet another thing the crown has forced him to do when he gets one of those questions he always gets. It’s always either some variation of “Is there anyone special in your life?” or “And when will you be doing your stint in the military, like your brother?” He honestly would not put it past his Gran to force the questions to be asked. It is in that moment that he decides he’s done with this-he’s done being someone he’s not just to please someone who, if he’s honest, has never cared about what he wants. So when the reporter asks, “Prince Henry, is there any special lady in your life?” He turns to her and smiles, “Actually, there is someone special, and I messed things up with him quite spectacularly, and if he’s listening, I hope he’ll give me another chance.” Since he’s already reached the point where there is no going back, he continues, “Even though I ran when he tried to tell me how he felt, I hope he’ll hear me when I say ‘I love you’ and I’m coming to you just as soon as I finish this interview.” He takes extra care to stress every male pronoun he uses and waits as the reporter and others in the room process what he just said. “Um …” “You don’t need to ask. I’ll answer it; I’ve been waiting too long to say it. I’m gay, and I’m in love with a man. I want there to be no confusion as I say that I have never been interested in any of the women you have all snapped pictures of me with as more than friends. Unfortunately, as a prince, I have been told certain things are expected of me, and until now, I have let that hold me back from being me. I hope you all will allow me a bit of privacy as I work on being myself.” He pauses once again, letting his words sink in. Before the reporter can ask any sort of intrusive follow-up question, he continues, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to cut this interview short. See, I have a flight to catch and need to figure out where that flight needs to land.” He gets up to leave, thanking the reporter and apologizing for the abrupt end to the interview. On his way out of the room, he opens a text to June on his phone and simply writes, ‘Can you please tell me where he is?’ He gets a text back almost instantaneously telling him Alex is still at the lake house. Then another telling him if he fucks this up again he’s not going to like the consequences. He is met by Shaan, who left the interview toward the end, and Shaan nods, “The plane is ready to take you back to Texas, sir. I arranged for a bag to be packed for you to meet us there. Unless you will need me, I am planning to stay here. Maybe run a little interference as necessary; give you some time to do what you intend to do.” “Thank you, Shaan. I appreciate that.” Henry’s on the plane heading to Texas, a long flight in front of him. When he checks his phone again, he sees a series of text messages from Bea, most of which contain joyful emojis. Surprisingly, there is a text from his mother that simply says, ‘I’m proud of you, Hen,” and while that is unexpected, he’s not sure now is the time to unpack how he feels about that message. Perhaps even more surprising is a text from Pip that is simply a heart emoji; he isn’t sure he realized Philp knew how to send emojis, but that is another text he’ll decipher later. Right now, he needs to figure out what he will say to Alex when he gets to him, providing, of course, he’ll even listen to him. He’s hoping, with every fiber of his being, Alex will talk to him, and he didn’t just blow up his life on British television, with no chance of reconciliation with the man he loves—the man he’s loved for longer than he wants to admit since he’s being honest.

this can also be found on ao3 if you'd rather, they'll all be there as they get written

[decadentlawyertrashmuffin]

Beatrice practically runs through the corridor of the hospital. Camilla had called an hour ago and told her Ava had returned, but in the state she was in, she needed rest and hydration.

The former nun arrives on the unit Camilla had given her, and she can feel the divinium tattoos starting to react to the presence of the halo bearer.

She silently enters the room, vaguely aware of somebody in the bathroom at the entrance, until she sees the form of the woman in the first bed. IV lines, tubes and an oxygen mask in place, a woman is resting. Her skin pale, taunt, and aged.

Beatrice starts to cry, seeing the woman waking up and looking towards her, slowly raising her arm, pointing weakly and trying to speak through the mask:

« You… you came… you’re here… it’s been so long » she cries.

Beatrice gets nearer and her tears slowly falls down her face. She forces a smile, trying to be reassuring through her pain. « Of course I came, I missed you so much, Ava ».

The woman looks slightly confused, but keeps reaching out for Beatrice’s hand, and when their fingers touch, the former nun can feel cold fingers. Beatrice looks at the form of the frail lady in front of her, almost still and so different from the girl she knew. Even her eyes were different, clearer, her eye white as snow and the pale skin of somebody who had lived too many years away from the sun.

« I am so tired, I have waited so long to see you again » the older woman says, « you kept me waiting ».

Beatrice chuckled at that :  « I kept you waiting? Well you took you sweet time to come back to me, didn’t you? how am I suppose to catch up with you? »

« I am too tired to talk now, but tell me about you »

« No, you rest, I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m not leaving your side anymore. »

Almost straight away, the bedridden woman closes her eyes and falls asleep.

A nurse enters the room, and looks at the charts then at the monitor above the bed.

« Are you a relative? We thought she only had the people from her hospice to look after her? The sister wasn’t very clear about her medical history. Do you have any information? »

Beatrice looks down to the floor: « sorry, I can not help, we hadn’t seen each other in a very long time ».

The nurse has a sad look on her face : « well I’m sorry, she’s very poorly and well she’s very old so… uh… »

« I understand, but I would like to stay if that’s alright »

« Yeah, yeah, of course. I can bring you a more comfier chair if you’d like. I’m sure the other patient won’t mind the company. »

« Oh, I see, we’ll actually I haven’t seen the other patient, I mean, I’ve heard shuffling in the bathroom, but that’s all.»

« Oh, yeah, a real feisty one, won’t rest or even get an IV in, we had three needles breaking so we had to stop. She just went to have a shower while she waits for her girlfriend to pick her up. »

Beatrice’s phone suddenly starts ringing, and the nurse, leaving the room, tells her that she should take the call in the corridor. Although reluctant to leave the bedside, she can see that it’s Camila. She reaches the bed and drops a kiss on the lady’s forehead.

« What the fuck » she suddenly hears a voice behind her « I’m gone for a few months and you’ve already replaced me? »

Beatrice turns around, and there she is, in all her glory and youth and beauty. Ava.

« I thought I recognised the song, the one we danced to in the Alps? Bambola? Bea, are you ok? Why were you kissing Peggy? Are…are you having a stroke? That’s ok we’re already in a hospital… really you’re starting to freak me out. Please say someth… » well there are only a few ways to shut Ava up, and kissing her was probably one of the most pleasant.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 57. brb x oc

THIS FIC IS 18+ ONLY! MINORS PLS DNI!

a/n: WELL THIS WAS KINDA NEW FOR ME BUT I LIKED IT

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: Bee discovers a new kink and so does Rooster. Some tiddy work goes on uwu,VERY LIGHT COMPARED TO MY OTHER SMUTS NGL

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44/45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @shrimping-for-all @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix

@lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @kulicny @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

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-

Of course, thinking about something was much easier than doing. And Rooster wasn’t achieving much if he was completely honest. From the moment that Beatrice pulled him to the words that came out of her mouth, his mind was traveling to the deepest,darkest areas of his thoughts and his eyes were always on her. 

Every time she walked by his eyes would wander, then meet her own shy gaze, an unsaid compromise being shared with their irises only. And he tried to play off how anxious he was to leave the bar, already preparing the quickest route to the car so they could get the hell out of there. 

He checked his phone for the time,seeing that Bea now only had a few minutes left. There was only him and a few other patrons in the bar, the Squad already left - not before teasing him and making fun of his gooey looks towards Beatrice like he always did. 

Beatrice looked over her shoulder towards him, then down at her phone and mouthed the words ‘Five minutes’ while pointing to the door where her things were. He just nodded, holding his head up with his palm with his eyes locked on the sway of her hips, the same eyes that quickly snapped up when he saw Penny’s legs approaching the table. “Are you ogling my employee,Rooster?” 

He licked his lips then cleared his throat, “Just waiting for her to be done,Penny.” 

The bar owner chuckled, gently swatting his shoulder, “I’m just teasing,Rooster.” she props her hands on her hips, tilting her head at him, “How’s fatherhood treating you? I asked Bea, but you were the second on my list.” 

Bradley laughs softly, dropping his head for a brief second only to look back up, “Honestly? It’s…great. Nikki is such a sweet baby too, it makes the whole ordeal really nice and easy to handle.” 

“I can imagine, Bea told me that she’s a quiet one.” 

“Only cries when she really needs to and it’s not even a lot.” he smiles, sighing softly as he looks at his hands, “She’s with Bea’s parents tonight, we are picking her up as soon as we get out of here.” and he was thankful there were no messages from his inlaws asking for help, it was all going fine, “And we were worried about leaving her there, it was the very first time after all but it’s been going fine.” 

Penny grinned, patting his shoulder, “I think you two are doing great.” her words held more weight than she imagined, especially since Rooster worried a lot about his own role in this, “So don’t worry too much, understand?” 

Penny knew about his past because Mav shared about it with her, she knew about the doubts and fears the young Bradshaw had when it came to fatherhood. He just appreciated his Navy family a lot, they really were there for him when he needed them the most, “Thanks,Penny,” he looks behind Penny, seeing Beatrice walking out with her bag on her shoulder, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“You should.” she says while stepping back so he could stand up, “You two are young, there is trial and error that could be resolved.” 

Beatrice walked up to them with her sweet smile directed at him and he was hooked immediately. They threw a goodbye at Penny, his hand immediately engulfing hers and leading her out of the bar. 

He didn’t want to appear desperate, he didn’t plan to, but he did keep his eyes on Beatrice since she was in front of him, and those jeans should be illegal. She wasn’t paying attention because her eyes were locked on her phone, typing back to a text from her parents, “They said that Nikki is asleep and to be careful before the rain comes down,” she turns her head up to see the dark sky above their heads, “Oh. We better step up then.” 

But Rooster just tightened his hold on her hand, pulling her closer to him as soon as they reached the Bronco. The car was partially hidden because of the lack of luminosity so he could drop his lips to her neck and nibble the skin just enough to make her gasp, “We will.” he chuckles, almost darkly, pulling back to meet her equally enlarged pupils with a pleased grin on his face, “Shall we?” 

She muttered something that resembled a ‘You are so evil’ but she had a smile on her face, walking around the car to the passenger door and disappearing from his view. As soon as he got in as well there were a few raindrops hitting the glass and the car’s roof. Rooster frowned, latching the seatbelt on, “We better go there before it gets worse.” he comments when he starts the car, arching his brow when he hears her soft giggle, “What?” 

“...I just…I just remembered the time you showed up soaked to the bone.” the car leaves the parking area onto the street, Beatrice’s eyes following the raindrops sliding down the window, “And you offered me a ride.” 

“And you gave me your towels.” he added, “Best smelling towels I ever used.” 

“Honestly I was so nervous that day,well, I told you why.” she whispered, choosing to not elaborate why since he already knew. “But…that was the closest I’ve been to you since you came to my house the first time and…I don’t know, I just didn’t want to look at you too much because you were soaked and it’d give me ideas.” 

Bradley inhales shakily, licking his lower lip with a little laugh, “Ideas,huh?” she hums positively, “Honestly,I’m so open to those ideas right now.” 

“After we get Nikki, then I can share with you.” 

“Promise?” 

Beatrice smiles back at him, “Of course.” 

- 

They were extremely lucky, because as soon as they got home with Nikki, as soon as the garage’s door closed, the rain began and it was strong and loud but not enough to wake Nicole up. Beatrice looks out Nicole’s window, seeing the flashes of lightning in the distance and the roars of thunder that seemed to shake the house. 

And yet, Nicole slept through it, barely peeking one eye open and just turning her head to the side. “It’s amazing how she does this.” Beatrice hears Rooster comments, turning her head to where he was against their daughter’s crib, one hand propped on his hip and the other supporting himself upright against the railing, “World’s end and Nicole is sleeping through it.” 

“And it’s her first storm too.” Beatrice smiles, looking down at the brown haired little girl who just slept soundly inside, “A cutie…now come on, we need to get out.” Just as she said that,Eleanor and Jack walked into the room, the white dog lying between the crib and the door while her brother lay down under the crib just like he usually did. 

Beatrice sighs as she steps out,running her hands through her hair, “Well, it wasn’t so bad was it?” 

“No, your parents did great and so did Nikki.” he says, crossing his arms as he leans his upper back against the wall, “And if I’m honest, that just makes me relieved. It means that she won’t give anyone trouble if we need to leave her.” 

“That’s true.” Beatrice expected his reply but she got nothing, even arching her brow at him only to see his eyes intensely dragging up and down her body, pausing every now and again at her chest and hips, “...so.” 

“So.” 

She laughs softly, offering her hands to him, which he accepts immediately, uncrossing his arms to hold her palms against his so he could pull her closer to his body as his lips drop to her head, “We need to resolve…some things, don’t we, Roos?” 

“We do and you said you’d tell me the ideas you had when you first saw me wet as a dog and just had the best thoughts for me.” he smirked, lips still touching her scalp, “So,I’m all ears, pretty girl.” 

Beatrice bites her lower lip but nods under his mouth, walking ahead of him with her hand still wrapped around his so she could take them to their bedroom. She had her finger against her lips, telling him do be quiet even though she knew he’d be if that annoyingly cute smile of his was any reply. 

When they enter their bedroom, Beatrice wraps her arms around his neck as she looks up at him, “I have to ask you something I never did.” 

“Mm?” he is a bit distracted since his lips are now nibbling her neck, his hands rubbing up and down her hips, that delicious smell of lavender invading his nostrils. 

“I just…well,I don’t think we ever discussed your kinks. We did discover mine.” she muttered, “But, I don’t know…is there…anything else you’d like to share with me?” 

Rooster stops his teasing on her neck, slowly lifting his head to meet her eyes, “...my kinks? Baby, you are my kink.” he laughs almost in disbelief, “You know that.” 

“Well…yes but,I mean…is there something that you like? More than…what we do? I wanted to treat you.” 

He couldn’t love her more and yet she always surprised him, “...pretty girl,” he turns his body so his legs touch the bed and he sits down, leaving Beatrice standing between his legs and his hands still caressing her hips, “You always do…is this because of earlier?” Beatrice avoided his eyes but nodded, “Are you feeling guilty?” 

“Well, you always make sure I orgasm every time.” she whispered, “That was…the first time I didn’t repaid you and I guess it bothered me a bit.” 

“...fuck you are adorable.” he chuckles, patting his thighs just so Beatrice could sit on them and once she did he wasted no time in running his fingers and palms over the length of her thighs, “You are so sweet, God, you are so sweet…gorgeous you don’t have to worry about this, you don’t have to worry if I’m having my needs met. I always am.” she didn’t seem convinced, “But…if you wanna do something back, hey,I ain’t complainin’.” 

Beatrice chewed her lower lip, trying her hardest to cover her smile as she thought about how to respond, “Well…” she chews her lower lip even harder, feeling the flesh turning hotter because of the blood flowing inside, “...I…well…” 

“How about you share with me what you thought back then?" He loved how red she always got, “I’m dyin’ to know.” 

And so was she. 

Except it was because of embarrassment. 

She shouldn’t feel this way, especially because…well, they were married now and he had the right to know all the deep, dark thoughts she had when looking at him - and there were a lot of them! - “...well, there was…um.” she inhaled shakily, cursing inside because she did more than she ever thought to him and now she was getting nervous? No. She had to get a grip, “Well,you know I always liked your neck.” The feather-like touch to his throat made his Adam’s Apple bob, but his amused little smile remained, “And…when you showed up I could only–I could only imagine- um…” 

“Go on,” he reassures her, “I’m listening.” 

Beatrice inhales for courage, “I was just imagining seeing you with your head tilted back as I sucked you off and dragged my nails down your thighs.” Beatrice lets all out in one breath, gulping quietly, “T-Too much?” 

Rooster’s eyes darkened the second the words came out of her mouth, the grip on her hips tightened but Beatrice’s words were too much for him to bear. The fact that she not only felt like that even before they dated was doing something to him, “Well…” his mouth felt dry, like there was cotton in his throat soaking all the moisture, “We can work with that,huh?” 

“Would you like me to?” 

“Fuck,baby I want anything that you want.” he exhales out as if he was holding his breath for more than the few seconds. He cups her asscheeks in his hands to push her further against him their crotches touching and the seam of both of their jeans pressing up against her, “And I’m eager to have it happen.” Beatrice giggles softly before meeting his lips in a kiss, one that slowly deepened into something more visceral than the obvious love pecks they often shared. 

Ever since having Nikki the two got very busy and only now they were able to get back to their footing in the usual sexual level they were. Beatrice moans into his mouth when she feels his hands opening the button of her jeans, keeping the sides open and exposing her white lace underwear, “Fuck, is it the one from Palermo?” she nods with her mouth curling into a smile, “You planned all of this didn’t you?” 

“Maybe.” she giggles, pulling back to meet his eyes, “Maybe I did, Lieutenant, what are you going to do about it?” 

Sprinkling in some rank kink was always a good idea, especially considering how he looked with pure raw hunger in his eyes. Beatrice squeaks in surprise when he slides his hands under her shirt, “Your hands are cold!” 

“Punishment for talking back to your superior,recruit.” he smirks, slowly rolling up the soft cotton shirt until it was resting above the curve of her breasts. “...Bea, fuck, your tits are still the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.” and they were flushed red because of her blush making them look like pretty apples ready to be bitten and he couldn’t wait until he was able to. He watches her yank the shirt off, fluffing her hair on the way down and making it appear fuller. 

He doesn’t stop her when she slides her hands under his Hawaiian shirt, biting her lower lip as he shouldered it off, his broad frame making the movement unbelievably sexy, “The undershirt too.” she whispered, watching with hooded eyes as he pulled the white tee off as well, exposing his bare chest to her eyes, “...I like you are growing it more.” 

“Hm?” 

“Your chest hair.” she whispered, running her hand on the dark hairs on his chest, it was a bit more than usual, making it appear fuller. “I know you don’t…like when it’s a lot but I really appreciate seeing it.” 

“Do you?” he almost purrs, feeling her hands brushing on top of his pectorals, pushing him back on the bed until he falls down with an ‘oof!’ leaving his lips, “I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” his voice falters when he feels she’s sliding off his legs, throwing a quick look at the baby monitor just to check if everything was fine and then looking back at him. 

Beatrice smiles while biting her lower lip, hooking her fingers on the open flaps of her jeans to shimmy them down her legs - biting back the little laugh at his appreciative stare when the fabric stuck between her thighs - and kicking them away, “Well, Lieutenant.” she whispers, “Get comfortable.” 

“I am.” 

“I mean get a pillow,Brad.” she says sweetly, “I don’t want you hurting your neck when you try to look at me.” 

He wondered often how someone like Bea can be so sweet and so sexy at the same time? How was her sentence so absolutely kind yet so flirty? But he does grab one of the pillows to put under his upper back, deciding that two of them were more than enough for him to have an elevated view of her body. Beatrice combed her hair all to one side, leaving the opposite exposed, showing more of the flush on her skin as she fixed the lace panties on her hips, the snapping of elastic against her skin making his eyes immediately drop to that area.  

“Comfortable?” 

“Fuck,yeah.” his eyes were still on the elastic digging on the plush flesh of her hips, the lace almost like another tattoo on her skin. He just leaned back on the pillow, watching as she slowly crawled on top of him with her hair tumbling over her shoulder and down his face, the beautiful vision that Beatrice was taking all the air out of him. Beatrice smiles sweetly, there was still worry in her gaze as she asked without words if he was truly comfortable, but he nodded with a smile so she could relax.  

Rooster’s hooded eyes follow her head as she dips down, soft lips that smelled like cherry chapstick touching the side of his face, right under his cheekbone, trailing butterfly like kisses all the way to his jawline, kissing his scars and the curve of his jaw until she reached his ear. His hands were resting on the expanse of her thighs, squeezing every now and again as she continued exploring with her lips. 

When she reached his jugular he squeezed just a bit harder, the groan that escaped his throat was deep and breathy, with a whisper of her name breaking out, “Was this…” he tries to speak but her tongue and lips are too busy teasing that very spot, “W-Was this- fuck.” he felt almost feverish, canting his hips upwards to get any sort of friction against her crotch, “W-Was this part of your…plan…too?” he finally, after losing grasp that he could speak like a grown man, managed to ask her about it. 

And all she said was ‘Mhm.’ with the sweetest lilt to her voice, dragging her open mouth down his neck until she reached his collarbones, kissing yet another scar he had there before her lips went down to his pectorals. 

He was so thankful for the pillows because he could watch her going down his body without lifting his head too much, her soft hands following the hard lines of his body, nails gently scraping the Adonis lines he had until she hooked her thumbs on either side of his jeans. Rooster’s chest heaved as he watched in silence, her legs no longer on his grasp since she climbed out of the bed to kneel on the floor. Beatrice’s green irises were now a thin ring around her enlarged pupils as she looked up at him, mouth gently touching the bulge that was still covered by the coarse fabric. 

She was red in the face, a lot more than before, but the twinkle in her eye wasn’t missed by him. He was glad that she was getting comfortable with them again, with the two of them making love and exploring and having fun together. And seeing her like that now, gently touching the zipper of his jeans and kissing the obvious bulge there was really, really nice. 

He could feel her hands climbing up his legs until they reached his zipper, eyes flicking down to see what she was doing only to meet his eyes again as the dull ‘zziip’ entered his ears. His legs slowly got colder, he had to lift his ass from the bed to take his pants off, but he couldn’t look away from her even if he tried. Beatrice returns to the task at hand, this time a thinner barrier covering himself from her mouth and he could feel the wetness of her lips as she kissed his length. 

“Bea…” he groans out, clenching the sheets under him as that pink tongue of hers lolled out to lick a slow stripe from the cloth to the elastic, kissing the golden skin that peeked from under it with a little smile on her face. Beatrice bites her lower lip, curling her fingers on the elastic band and gently tugging it down his muscular thighs, his member bobbed up flushed and at attention once there wasn’t anything else holding it back.  

He adjusted himself a bit more against the pillows to have an even better view of his wife, his gorgeous, amazing and sexy wife, who just smiled up at him. The same butterfly kisses from before were pressed on the underside of his member, all the way from tip to base and her hot breath made goosebumps form on her skin. Bradley groaned while trying hard to keep his eyes open and at her but it was hard. 

Especially when she put him in her mouth, humming happily at his obvious pleased reactions. She popped him out with a wet sucking noise, using one of her hands to rub the entire length in a circular motion, “Good?” 

He could barely speak, his body felt like it was on fire, “Holy shit,it’s fucking great.” he gasps out, “Fuck, put me in your mouth again.” 

“Hmmm…you know,” she continues moving her hand, the slick sound of her movements only making his body act up, “I have another idea too and I think you’ll like it.” he’s breathing too heavily to understand her words, but he suddenly feels something snug on either side of his member, squeezing it and keeping it tight and warm. He breathes out shakily, his unfocused gaze looking down at her one more time to understand what was happening. 

And he had to hold back so he wouldn’t bust one right then and there. 

Because his member was pressed snugly between her breasts, those beautiful flushed mounds of flesh that were tightly pressed against it because of her arms, “...is…is this okay?” God bless her and her nervous voice thinking he’d be against something like that. 

“Fuck.” his hips were moving before he could stop it, he needed the friction, “Fuck, fuck, oh shit…yeah,It’s okay, fuck, Bea!” he held back a louder moan by biting his lips, his upper body felt weak and he just wanted to lie back down and just let his hips move. But he also wanted to look at her. 

No one ever, ever, did that to him and honestly he didn’t know if he could live without the sensation now. Not only that, but he could feel her lips touching him every now and again, “Holy shit,Bea!” he ground out the words, feeling her soft lips kiss and smack his member every time he thrusted upwards, “Fuck, oh fuck.” he didn’t know if he’d be able to go on like this, he didn’t know if he’d be able to handle. 

She was so soft and warm all over, he was so lucky, “Fuck,Bea, keep going baby, keep goin’.” his accent got thicker as the knot inside of him was about to explode, “Fuck baby, fuck…fuckin’ amazin’ tits you got. Holy shit.” Beatrice’s only response was a soft giggle, “Bea, I need to–” he inhales mid sentence “- I need to…you–” 

“I’m fine,Roos.” she whispered, “Are you close?” 

God he was so in love with her. 

“J-Just-fuck, a-a few more,” he could barely string out words together, his hips straining from moving up and down against her breasts, “Just a little bit longer, gorgeous, please.” he didn’t see how Beatrice’s eyes shone at that, clearly interested at the sudden beg coming from him. His panting got louder as he felt his climax nearing, getting closer and closer and he had to see. 

He propped himself up by the elbows so he could take a good look at Beatrice, seeing those beautiful breasts of hers still bouncing and her mouth licking him every time he peeked between her tits, “Oh fuck.” he growls, “Fuck I could cum just lookin’ at you. You don’t have to do anythin’ oh fuck!” and he stilled with his hip bones pressed tight against the underside of her boobs. 

Bradley could barely figure out what was happening since his vision was so unfocused after he had his eyes clenched when the climax hit him with full force. His hips stuttered with aftershocks and he could hear a very distinct ‘splat’ from where his cum landed, “Holy…shit…” he tried his best to control his breathing, groaning out the last reminisces of his orgasm as he looked down at Beatrice. 

And he hated to say but she looked beautiful with his cum splattered over her chest, “Fuck…” he was almost pained at how sexy that scene was but he needed a break right now, it was almost like that took everything out of him, “Fuck,Bea…are you okay?” 

Beatrice looked up at him,those big emerald like eyes shining and twinkling. He watches as she slowly lets his member slid from between her breasts, her eyes looking down at where the opaque substance was currently sliding down her cleavage. And he has to hold back the pained groan when she swipes her index finger down on it and brings it to her lips, pulling out with a soft pop, “I’m great. Are you?” 

And she asked that with a giggle. He just groaned again, in annoyance because he could barely move, his legs felt like jelly, “That was…fuckin’ hot.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” she smiles, kissing his bare thigh as she stands to her feet, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.” 

Bradley could just pathetically watch her with his eyes since he was too tired to move, “Where you goin’?” 

“Shower.” 

“No…wait, I–” he makes a movement to stand up only to sigh and fall back on the bed, “I…I’ll go there later, fuck.” 

[ya-bug-boy]

What do you think the twins would think about a transmasc s/o who does martial arts?

Submas x Transmasc Martial Artist Reader!

Emmet and Ingo are an interesting pair of twins, to say the least. They're strong trainers, with strength comparable to that of the Champion Iris, with a peculiar personality that draws them apart from one another.

But you already know about them. This time, they're knowing about you.

The two know about you, you're a famous martial artist. At first you were a spectacle due to your gender which is still prevalent in some tiresome and irrelevant media circles, but otherwise you're known for your strength in both your physique and pokemon team.

In Nimbasa City, there was a world wide event that called forth the attention of the world's best fighting-type trainers. This wasn't just limited to just pokemon battles! The trainers themselves would be fighting against each other as well. This was a massive charity event!

You were a celebrity at this point because you weren't a gym leader or an Elite Four member unlike those in the roster. You've traveled the world and amassed a number of skills and Pokemon to create the perfect team.

But when you arrived to Nimbasa City, you were trying to be inconspicuous. You don't like attracting attention unless you're on the battlefield because you get the attention of a bunch of weak trainers who don't give you a challenging fight.

But that day you were in the subway station, you were very lost...the Unovan subway system is regarded to be the best in the world but you grew very accustomed to Galar's flying taxi's.

So Ingo got to meet you first. Being the gentleman he is, he escorted you to your next stop while talking to you. Without giving away your name, you mention that you're taking part of the fighting tournament. Ingo expresses an interest in that and wishes you luck, not knowing who you are until later.

When the twins get together with Elesa and Skyla to watch in front row seats, Ingo SHOUTS when he realizes you walk on stage. He's quick to inform the others that he's actually met you! You lightly laugh when you see him in the crowd and give him a wink. The cameras go fucking wild at this as you saunter onto the stage to fight.

The Pokemon fight against Bea was intense, your Toxicroak defeated Bea's Grapploct by wearing it down with poisonous attacks.

But your actual physical fight with Bea was beyond comprehension due to how fast it was. You were relentless and overwhelming, the young teenager never stood a chance.

You're quickly vilified in the spotlight due to how harsh you were. The corner of the audience that is Galarian are shocked into silence. You two walk off stage and aren't seen for a while.

Emmet gets a bit envious so he decides he wanted to meet you too. Since they all paid good money to get backstage access, they meet up with you after the fight you had with Bea. But they quickly pause when they hear light sniffles.

"Whoa, hey, you're gonna be ok," they hear you say as you apply another bandaid to her cheek. "You did good out there. Almost had me a good couple of times too. You don't gotta cry, girl, you got all of Galar rooting for you. You made everyone proud, you hear? That intense footwork, the way you move, you had me sweating bullets!" they hear Bea gently laugh at that and ask if you meant it, you confirm this. You eventually leave her room and exit into the hallway, where you see the group. Though they wouldn't say that they heard you, they take note of your protective kindness as you immediately close the door behind you and say, "You folks better give my girl Bea some time," with a glare.

but they immediately clear up the situation that they merely wanted to meet you! Now you're a bit bashful if it weren't for the bruise you had on your cheek. "Gee thanks! Never knew I had fans out there actually. Just been chugging along on my own, on my little destiny train, seeing where the tracks will take me."

You are strong, handsome, caring, AND you use train puns? Oh it's over for the twins the moment you turn your back to them, Ingo and Emmet are immediately fighting over who asks you out first.

[pridepages]

(On a Thursday, I'll be on time one of these days...)

Henry and Cat are figuring out that growing up doesn't always mean outgrowing your past...

Her eyes fell to Henry’s wedding band. “I wish I knew how to be the kind of person someone chooses to love.” “We chose you,” he reminded her. “Your Papa and I, all those years ago and every day since. You don’t need to become the sort of person someone chooses to love. You already are.”

Cat shook her head. “It’s not the same—”

“I know, but—”

“—you didn’t really have a choice.”

That brought Henry up short. “What?”

Cat shrugged. “We all know you, Dad. You’re just…” she smiled faintly, “too good for your own good. You wouldn’t let Aunt Bea give up her career. Nan was getting older, she’d already raised three kids. No one wanted to let Great-Gran have me—may she rot in hell—”

“Hang on—”

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. She ran a tired hand over her face, missing her father’s appalled expression. “Who did that leave? So yes, you chose me, but it wasn’t really a choice at all.”

“How long have you been thinking like this?”

“A couple of years? I don’t know. At some point, I grew up enough to stop being a selfish, only-child teenage asshole and like…think.” She picked up her tea. Looked at it. Put it back down again. “You weren’t that much older than I am now. You had this whole life ahead of you—you could have gone anywhere and done anything. But you had to give that all up. You sacrificed so much just to raise a fucked up kid.” 

She looked so small when she said it—

Breathless and bundled in taffeta, bounding downstairs—“I can stay?”

Little arms locked tightly around his neck—“I won’t go!”

All this time, he’d been resigned to setting her free…

When really what she wanted to know…

“I don’t want to get in your way.”

…was that she was still his.

Maybe we never completely outgrow our childhood fears, Henry realized. Maybe we’re never too old to hope Dad’s coming with a light to show us there isn’t really a monster hiding under the bed.

“It wasn’t a sacrifice,” he said quietly. You can’t outgrow me.

She didn’t look up, but he could always tell from the way she held herself still—like a little bird on the edge of taking flight—that she was listening carefully. 

“It wasn’t a sacrifice,” he repeated. “It was a gift. Freely given.” I’m right here.

I’m not going anywhere.

[lagingersnapz]

Some Rain Must Fall - (Fallout Fic) Chapter 12: We'll Meet Again

Chapter: 12/?

Cooper and Lucy have to explain to Kelly why she has to stay in Vault 4, and the survivors of the settlement have a memorial for those lost.

Characters: Lucy MacLean/Cooper Howard(The Ghoul), Dogmeat(CX-404), Original Characters

Word Count: 4832

Warnings: Violence, Swearing

Author's Note: Okay, I'm feeling a little more awake today, but only a little. I survived yesterday, though, so I'll chalk that up as a win.

Previous Next

Ao3

~~~

The four of them sat in silence while Lucy tried to think of what to say. Obviously they couldn’t take Kelly with them, for multiple reasons. The look on Kelly’s face as she tried to stare Lucy down told her that none of those reasons were going to be good enough for the young girl.

“Oh, Kelly, I just don’t think-”

“You ain’t comin’ with us, Kiddo,” Cooper cut Lucy off, drawing Kelly’s frustrated gaze to him.

“Why not? I can help. I proved that in the swamp, remember? I helped save you, ” she pointed at Cooper, “from that worm, and I helped bring back food for the rest of the camp. I can take care of myself. I won’t be a burden or nothin’.”

“It’s not up for discussion.” Cooper’s voice was firm, but Kelly just huffed at him sharply.

“I don’t wanna stay here!” Her voice broke a little bit, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Kelly?” Nate had stopped eating and was watching his sister carefully, clearly trying to figure out exactly what had her so upset. “Why sad, Kelly?”

“Why don’t you want to stay? You’ll be safe here with these people, I promise.” Lucy tried to make her voice as soothing as possible, but Kelly just shook her head, clapping her hands over her ears like she could block the rejection out.

“I don’t know these people,” Kelly said, then sniffled and wiped her nose on her arm.

“Of course you know them,” Lucy tried again. “Bea, Anna, Sam, Eleanor. You have Nate here, too. What would he do if you came with us? We can’t take him either. It would be too dangerous where we’re going.”

“Why? Where are you going? Why can’t you stay here?” Tears were running freely down her bright red cheeks, but the defiant, angry look in her eyes hadn’t faded. It wasn’t so easy to answer that question. Lucy wasn’t entirely sure where they were going, but the surface was dangerous as a rule. After all the losses they had already experienced she knew that if something were to happen to Kelly or Nate, Lucy would never recover from it.

“Kelly, if anything happened to you-” Lucy tried to explain, but this time it was Kelly that cut her off, standing sharply from her chair, which scraped against the linoleum floor of the kitchen.

“It’s not fair!” she shouted at them. “Everyone keeps leaving and dying and it’s not fair!” She broke off to sob sharply, and Nate started whimpering in his booster seat, glancing between his sister, Lucy, and Cooper. Dogmeat moved to stand next to Kelly, trying to lick her hand, but the little girl shoved her away. “Why do you get to choose if I gotta stay here? My mama and dad are dead, so I get to choose for myself!”

Cooper stood up slowly. Before breakfast he had changed back into his cleaned clothes. They were still dulled and threadbare from time and wear, but rather than grey and brown, it was clear the shirt had once been blue and yellow. “Come on now, Kiddo. You’re smart. I know you know that you can’t come. You’re upsetting your brother, and Dogmeat sure doesn’t deserve to be pushed around like that neither.” He took a step towards Kelly, and she backed up so quickly that the chair behind her was knocked over. The sound of it clattering against the floor finally pushed Nate too far, and he started to cry in earnest. Lucy stood up, picking the little boy up out of his chair and holding him tightly, rubbing his back and trying to make soothing sounds for him.

“How come I gotta think about what’s fair for everyone else but nobody’s gotta think about what’s fair for me?” Kelly demanded. Cooper reached for her and she swatted his hand away. Lucy expected him to get angry. His fuse had never exactly been a long one, and Kelly was seemingly trying repeatedly to light it. Instead of anger, Cooper’s lips twisted into a small, sad smile.

“I know. Believe it or not, I know. I understand that it ain’t fair. Lots of things in life ain’t fair. It’s alright to be mad about it. But me and Lucy and Dogmeat, we’re just tryin’ to help you.” He managed to put a hand on Kelly’s arm before she hiccupped and turned away from him, running for the door without a word. Lucy moved to follow her, but Cooper held up his arm to stop her.

“Let her go, Sweetheart. She’s gotta work through this on her own. She won’t go far. Not in a place so unfamiliar to her. Not when she’s tryin’ to cling so hard to the few familiar things she’s got left.” His gaze remained on the door as he spoke, and as Lucy looked at him, something clicked into place in her brain.

“You had kids.” The words were out before she could think better of them. Cooper barely flinched, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Dogmeat had sat down next to him once Kelly had run out, and he pet her ears softly.

“Just one,” he said, though with an air of finality that let Lucy know the topic was not up for continued discussion. At least not right now. “If you could stop figuring things out about me and let me talk about it in my own damn time that would be great. ”

“Right, sorry,” Lucy said sheepishly, shifting Nate in her arms. He was still whimpering, looking over to the doorway where his sister had disappeared, but he wasn’t wailing anymore.

“Too smart for your own damn good,” Cooper muttered, though whether she was meant to have heard him or not Lucy wasn’t sure. One thing she was sure about, though, was that breakfast was over.

“I’m going to go check in on Bea and Sam and the other kids. You wanna come?” she announced as soon as breakfast was cleaned up. Cooper was sitting at the table with his guns spread out over it, cleaning them and giving each one a thorough inspection, while also taking stock of his ammunition.

“Nope,” he said, voice lazy.

Lucy rolled her eyes, but wasn’t surprised by his response. She hadn’t expected him to say yes, but it was polite to offer, so she had. “Alright. I’ll be back later.” She gave him a wave before leaving with Nate and leaving Cooper to his thoughts. He didn’t wave back.

The unit that the others were staying in was on the same level as Cooper and Lucy’s, though a few units down. When Lucy knocked on the door, it opened almost immediately. Bea stood on the other side, looking a little frazzled. In the background, Sam was sitting with a few of the kids, and one of the residents of Vault 4 was helping to clean up after what must have been their breakfast. Lucy was glad they were getting help.

“Lucy,” Bea said with an air of relief. “I don’t suppose you’ve come to help? I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.” She reached out and took Nate’s hand in hers as she spoke, giving him a bright smile and rubbing his fingers. He gave her a shy smile back.

“Of course.” Lucy smiled. “Just tell me what to do.”

The next few hours were spent entertaining the kids and trying to distract them from all that had happened in the last few days, while at the same time planning for a little memorial service. Lucy asked Birdie, who asked Overseer Benjamin, if they could use one of the gathering spaces for it, and he had reluctantly approved. It was to be held that afternoon. Lucy hoped that Kelly would return as time passed, but she didn’t come to the room with the other residents. Hopefully, if anything, she had returned to Cooper.

Lucy’s mind was still reeling over the revelation that Cooper had been a father. Her own dad had never said anything about Cooper Howard having kids. Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her so much. He’d been married at one point, so kids weren’t that much of a stretch. She wanted to ask him so many questions about it. Was it a boy or a girl? What was their name? How old were they? And more importantly, but also most difficult, what had happened to them? He’d asked her father where his family was. Did that mean they were still out there somewhere? It all made sense, then. What kept him going was his search for his wife and child. So what role did Lucy fill in this whole thing? Just a means to find them, right?

Memories from the night before felt almost like a dream at this point. The image of Cooper’s scars under her fingertips; his face as he had bent closer to her; her willingness, even eagerness, for him to kiss her, and the faint sense of disappointment when he hadn’t. Gosh, what was wrong with her? This man might still have a wife out there. Not to mention Max. When Lucy had left Max behind, she’d had every intention of returning to him. They were supposed to go back to Vault 33 together. Maybe Cooper hadn’t kissed Lucy, but Lucy had definitely kissed Max, and it had felt like there was something there. So why, the more time she spent with the crabby bounty hunter, did it feel like those emotions surrounding Max were fading? Was she that fickle?

“Come on, Lucy, get it together,” she mumbled to herself.

“Hm? Did you say something?” Sam looked over at her from where he sat holding one of the surviving toddlers, a boy named Ben, who was barely older than Nate.

They had all moved into the room where they would hold the memorial service, and Lucy was helping set up a little remembrance table with candles and the names of the people they had lost written down. The list included those lost at the settlement, as well as on the road. In total there had been 32 residents at the settlement. Now only seven of them remained, most of them orphaned children.

“Nope. Sorry. Just talking to myself.” Lucy forced cheer into her voice, giving Sam a reassuring smile. Maybe a little too much cheer, actually, given what they were currently working on. Sam accepted her smile with a nod, though, and went back to entertaining Ben and the other kids to keep them from getting underfoot during the preparations.

Eventually, as things started to come together, Lucy dusted off her hands on her pants and went to find Bea. “Hey, I’m gonna go get Wyatt and Kelly. I’m not sure this is really his kind of thing, but I think he should be here anyways.” She didn’t mention that she had no idea if Kelly was even actually with Cooper. Bea nodded and gave her arm a squeeze before Lucy left the room to go fetch her ghoul.

***

The silence in the housing unit was almost stifling after Lucy and Nate left, but Cooper did his best to ignore it. Dogmeat stayed with him, laying on the floor with her stuffed bear, watching the door, most likely waiting for Kelly to come back. It had been a few hours before the door hissed open to reveal the little girl, standing there sniffling. She shuffled her feet for a moment before coming inside and closing the door behind her. Cooper didn’t say anything, giving her a nod to let her know he’d seen her, but then going back to his work.

“Why do I gotta stay?” Kelly asked, voice hoarse in a way that let Cooper know wherever she had been, she’d been sobbing. He put down the gun part he’d been holding.

“Because it’s not safe out there for you,” he said.

Kelly walked towards him, but then plopped down on the floor next to Dogmeat, laying down and putting her head on the dog’s side. Dogmeat licked some of the tears off of her cheek, and Kelly pet her softly. “How do you know it’ll be safe here?”

“Because Lucy’s been here before and she says it’s safe,” Cooper said.

Kelly scoffed, but the fight in her voice had died down considerably. “And just ‘cause she said it, it’s true?”

“I don’t trust a lot of people on this Earth anymore, Kiddo, but I trust Lucy. She’s a good person, and there ain’t a lot of those left out there anymore. If she had any doubts about this place she wouldn’t leave you here. If she’s got no doubts about it, neither do I.” He rested his forearms on the tops of his thighs, looking down at Kelly as she continued to pet Dogmeat. “Why do you wanna come with us so bad?”

Kelly shrugged from her place on the floor. “Because you guys are strong. Nobody is probably gonna kill you. That means I wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Worry about what?” Cooper prompted.

“‘Bout bein’ alone,” Kelly said, almost whispering.

“Aw, come on now, Kiddo, that’s-”

The door hissed open, cutting him off, and Cooper looked over to see Lucy standing there in the opening. Her shoulders slumped in visible relief at the sight of Kelly on the floor with Dogmeat. Crossing the floor, she came to a stop next to Kelly, kneeling down.

“Hey. I’m glad you came back,” she said. Kelly didn’t say anything, but looked up at her. “We’re gonna have a memorial for the people that have died,” Lucy continued. “I came to get you. It’s kinda like a way to say a final goodbye to all the people we’ve lost. We’re gonna be remembering your mom and dad, too.”

Kelly sat up, keeping her eyes on the linoleum. “I don’t wanna remember them,” she said.

Lucy cocked her head to the side. “Why not?”

“Thinkin’ of ‘em hurts.”

Lucy sighed. “Kelly, can I hug you? Would that be okay?” she asked, holding her arms out. Kelly looked at her for a moment, then looked away again, but she nodded her head, and Lucy wrapped her into a tight hug. “You know, I lost my mom recently too,” she said.

“You did?” Kelly’s voice wavered.

Lucy nodded. “Yeah. And it was really hard. It still hurts really bad. But I don’t wanna forget her, either, because I have a lot of happy memories with her, and even though sometimes those memories are the ones that hurt the most, they also make me happy, too.”

Cooper watched the Vault-Dweller trying to calm the little girl, and held his tongue. She’d said she worked as a history teacher, and it showed. As telling as his interaction with Kelly had been, cluing Lucy in to his status as a parent, Lucy’s actions showed she was no stranger to kids either. His thoughts turned to the ghoul Lucy had put down in the Observatory; the one she later told him was her mother. Fuck. He hadn’t even asked her anymore about it. Since she spent so much of her time smiling, it was easy to forget how much she’d been through recently too.

“I guess I can go,” Kelly said. Lucy let her go, taking her hand and squeezing.

“That would make me so happy. Nate too. And I bet it would make your parents happy to know you’re gonna remember them.” She stood up, looking at Cooper. “You coming with us?”

What had come out of her mouth was framed as a question, but Cooper was smart enough to know that it really wasn’t one. A memorial service for people he’d barely known wasn’t high on his list of things he wanted to do, but with the way Lucy and Kelly were both looking at him he knew he wasn’t gonna be allowed to decline without some serious push-back.

“Yeah,” he said, standing up. As soon as he was on his feet, Dogmeat jumped up as well, and they left the unit together, though not before Cooper had reholstered one of his guns. The walk to the meeting room shouldn’t have taken too long, but they were stopped every other step by people who had either never seen a dog before, or hadn’t seen one in a long time, all of whom wanted to pet Dogmeat and talk about how wonderful it was to see her. She seemed happy with the attention, though she dutifully stuck close to Cooper’s side.

The mood at the memorial was appropriately somber. The survivors stood in a little semi-circle around the table with the names of those lost. A few of the residents of Vault 4 had joined them, offering reassurance where they could. The woman who’d been introduced to them as Birdie was there as well, and gave them both a nod as they entered. Nate was sitting on the floor next to Bea, but as soon as he saw them enter he climbed to his feet and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him to his sister, throwing his arms around her.

Kelly was trying so hard to keep a brave face, Cooper could tell, but the moment her brother touched her, her face crumpled and she started to cry quietly, holding the little boy like he was her last tether to the world. Dogmeat stood by them and whimpered.

Bea took a place next to the table, listing the names of everyone they had lost out loud, giving a moment for them to consider each one in silence. As she spoke Rob and Ellie’s names, Kelly sobbed a little harder. Cooper’s stomach felt sick at the sound, and he moved closer to her, putting a hand on her back. Kelly turned, keeping one arm around her brother, and wrapped the other around Cooper’s waist, crying into his shirt. And he let her. He didn’t try and push her away, or shush her, or tell her everything was alright, because clearly it wasn’t. Kelly had lost everything. No wonder she was trying so hard to stop him and Lucy from leaving. But that didn’t change the fact that they did have to leave, and she couldn’t come with them.

Nearby, Lucy was watching the proceedings, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. She lasted longer than Cooper thought she would, but at the end of the list, when Bea read the name ‘Rose MacLean’, Lucy covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders bobbed sharply with a stifled sob. Cooper wanted to move closer, to try and give her a little comfort too, but Kelly held him so tightly he didn’t know if he could move without pushing her off balance, so he stayed where he was. He hadn’t known she’d put her mom’s name on the list as well. How would he have felt if Barb’s name was on that list? Or Janey’s? True he and his wife had split up, and it had not been an amicable separation, but if he found out she was dead now, he didn’t think he’d feel good about it.

The room was silent, save for the sounds of crying, some quietly, and some wailing, until faintly a voice rose up from the back of the room.

“ We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day. ”

Cooper didn’t know who the singer was, only that it was one of the Vault-Dwellers. They continued to sing, their voice growing a little more confident when nobody told them to shut their trap, and soon a few more voices joined in. Lucy’s hands dropped from her face, which was red and blotchy from crying, but her shaking voice eventually joined in. Kelly turned her face from Cooper’s stomach, hiccupping and sniffling, watching the room of people singing a farewell song to the fallen settlement.

When the song died away, the room fell silent again. Slowly, people began to depart. The youngest of the children barely understood what was happening, and as they got hungry or tired, it was the sign to take them away. Bea even managed to coax Kelly and Nate away, promising them that Lucy and Cooper wouldn’t leave without coming to see them again. Cooper and Lucy were one of the last ones still in the room when Birdie approached Lucy.

“Listen… I know you were banished and that some unpleasant things happened last time you were here, but what you did, bringing these people to us? It was a kindness that speaks highly to your character. If you want, I can talk to Overseer Benjamin. I can probably convince him to let you stay with us again. Or at least to give you another trial run. We can probably even make an exception for your dog.” Birdie’s voice was gentle and understanding.

Cooper opened his mouth to turn the offer down, but closed it again when Lucy shook her head. “Thank you, but we can’t stay. There’s some things we need to take care of up on the surface.”

Birdie nodded. “Of course. But maybe afterwards?”

Cooper was watching Lucy carefully. Neither of them had discussed what might happen at the end of their journey. Hell, they barely knew where they would be going. They could end up on the East Coast for all he knew. Would she want to return to a Vault after all was said and done? After finding out what her dad had done? She still had family back at Vault 33, he knew. Her brother, Norman, was still there.

As he pondered this, something fell into place and Cooper wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it sooner. Lucy came from a Vault where her father had been an Overseer. He had direct control over the Vault and its systems. Henry MacLean knew where Barb and Janey were, Cooper was still convinced. It would have been idiotic for the man to return to his Vault, but that didn’t mean nobody else there would have answers.

Suddenly, staying in Vault 4 any longer was a lot more complicated. They had been offered a night or two to rest, but they hadn’t really talked about whether they would be staying that second night. Cooper, of course, didn’t want to. He had been a little torn, knowing how much their leaving was going to hurt Kelly, but with this epiphany of a lead, Cooper was sure they couldn’t stay.

The rest of the conversation between Lucy and Birdie was drowned out by his cacophonous thoughts, so when Lucy put a hand on his arm to let him know it was time for them to go back to their unit, he almost jumped out of his skin. Dogmeat looked around like she was searching for the threat that had spooked him.

“Wyatt?” Lucy was looking at him in confusion, but he shook off the question.

“Come on. Let’s get ready to go,” he said, putting a hand against the small of her back and leading her out, hoping the touch would at least be a comforting one for her. He wanted to hold her and comfort her the way other people had, but after last night he wasn't entirely sure where they stood, so he was determined to give her space and not push his luck. Cooper finished putting his weapons back together and getting ready to leave. He stocked up on food they could take with them, as well as clean water, and Lucy was given a bag to keep her own things in that looked almost identical to the one Cooper had dumped out on the riverbank during the gulper incident. They packed medical supplies, including a couple stimpaks, and spare clothes, and by the time it was all ready, Cooper felt like he was about to go crazy.

The last thing they had to do was also the one making him the most nervous. He and Lucy still needed to go say goodbye to Kelly and Nate. As they shouldered their packs, Dogmeat picked up the stuffed bear she had been carrying around, trotting out of the unit with it. Kelly and Nate were with Bea and the others in their unit, and as soon as the door opened for them and she saw them with their bags packed, tears started running down her cheeks again, which were still red and her eyes were visibly swollen from the memorial service.

“Please don’t go,” she whimpered, and the visage of the strong young girl fractured again to show the fragility she hid underneath.

Lucy wrapped her arms around Kelly, pulling her in tightly, then did the same to Nate. “I know it’s hard, Kelly.”

“Will you come back?” Kelly asked. Lucy looked up and met Cooper’s eyes, and he saw the battle being fought inside her between giving Kelly hope, or telling her the truth: that they didn’t know whether or not they’d be able to come back, because they didn’t know if they would survive whatever was coming next.

“We’ll try,” Cooper said, taking a knee so he could look Kelly in the face more easily.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Kelly asked.

“Well,” Cooper said, reaching down into his pocket and pulling something out. “Tell you what. This is really important to me. Know why?” He held out his hand, and sitting in his palm was a faded, frayed bit of cloth that Cooper knew had been yellow once upon a time. Kelly shook her head, so Cooper continued. He felt his heart pounding in his chest like it was finally about to give out on him, but he pushed through it.

“This here neckerchief belongs to my daughter, Janey. I’ve been carryin’ it around for a long time because I’m looking for her. So when I find her, I’ll have to bring her back here to get it. That way you two can meet and she can see how good you took care of it for me. It’ll be safer here with you than it would be out there with me.” As he spoke, Cooper reached forward with shaking hands, tying the neckerchief around Kelly’s neck. Reaching up, she touched it with her fingertips like it might crumble away, then looked back at Cooper, her lips trembling as she fought for the ability to speak.

“You promise you’ll come back if you can?” Kelly finally asked, her whole body shaking.

Cooper and Lucy exchanged glances again, then both nodded firmly.

“We promise that we will do whatever we can to come back and see you again,” Lucy said firmly.

Kelly whimpered, then wrapped her arms around Cooper’s neck, squeezing so tightly he couldn’t breathe for a second. Then she gave Lucy and Dogmeat similar hugs, and when she finally let go she held onto her brother instead. Cooper stood back up as Bea and Sam approached, offering them sad smiles.

“I’ll be sorry to see you both go,” Bea said. Cooper nodded, while Lucy leaned forward and gave the other young woman a hug.

“It’s not goodbye,” Lucy said softly. “It’s just until we meet again.” Bea took Lucy’s hands in hers, squeezing  tightly, her smile wavering a little bit. Sam just gave them both a nod.

“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of them,” he said.

Cooper turned to leave first, hearing Lucy and Dogmeat following along behind him. It felt like their footsteps were echoing loudly in his ears, and he heard the sound of his spurs clattering with each heavy step. Lucy was still sniffling while they rode the elevator back up to the surface. To his surprise, she shuffled closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder until finally it was time to step back out onto the surface.

The sun was well past its zenith as they stepped outside, and in the distance, sickly greenish-yellow clouds were gathering. Cooper knew what those clouds meant, but he decided not to tell Lucy, since he was worried she’d try and convince him to stay one more night. Even worse, he was worried it would work, and he’d let her talk him into it. She did seem to be damn good at convincing him to do things he didn’t intend to do.

“So,” Lucy said, clearly trying to put herself back in the traveling mindset, “done with the Vault. Where are we headed next?”

Cooper looked out over the horizon, then back at Lucy. “You tell me,” he said.

Lucy’s eyebrows dropped in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Cooper offered her a little smile of satisfaction, knowing that he was going to enjoy the look of shock on her face when he told her their next destination. “Well, Sweetheart, I think it’s time we paid a little visit to Vault 33.”

And he was right, the look on her face was priceless.

[bleekay]

finished rereading. couple of thoughts:

since it's the freshest in my mind, i have to say the ending of rwrb remains absolutely devastatingly cathartic, this alternate reality where the events of 2016 and beyond in this world didn't happen. i remember my first time reading it, like actually sobbing because the trump election still felt so fresh and painful and raw, and that final scene where they flip texas, my home state, really really hit home.

which is another bullet point on my long list of grievances with the film. that scene was just. not nearly on the emotional level as the book. it was supposed to be this like. grand build-up. and instead it fell flat for me. it was too short, too condensed.

which, frankly, i think that's essentially what i disliked about the film overall. it was way, way too condensed. and look, i get it, you're crunching down a 418 page book into 2 hours, they have to cut stuff out. but they cut out. everything. they took the handful of scenes with henry and alex and cut everything else out like it was all just superfluous to their romance. JUNE. june was gone!!! alex's sister who looked out for him and who knew him better than he knew himself, who had such a huge role in the book, was nixed from existence. i can't fathom why. nora and pez and bea were there, but barely. there was no "white house trio" or "super six" or very much at all of alex's or henry's friendships outside of each other?

rafael luna, someone alex looked up to immensely, the blueprint of the man alex wanted to be, a senator who was like him, a queer latino in politics for the genuine desire to do good, whose seeming betrayal cut alex to the core, but through whom the corruption of richards was revealed? he also was nonexistent in the film. instead of that entire arc, richards' scheme to publicly forcibly out alex and henry's relationship, luna's role in helping bring that all to light, was replaced by....... some reporter guy that alex hooked up with once, who it is implied is the villain behind outing alex and henry. with no, like, explanation whatsoever. jealousy, i guess. gay guy jealous, outs guy he liked because he didn't hook up with him again? because he's a skeevy reporter who doesn't care? what the hell kind of story is that. queer on queer violence easier to put in film, i guess, than the story of corrupt republican candidate (also sexual predator) who wants to crush democratic encumbent president so has his team hack private email server and then leaks all the alex-henry emails to the public and pays people to get hotel footage and take photos to back it up. i literally just. can't understand this change whatsoever. it feels gross. tbh.

the whole plot is just so off. it doesn't even feel like the same story in a lot of ways? the ending of the movie is actually, legitimately nonsensical. they're publicly outed and alex i guess decides of his own accord to like. make a public speech confirming their relationship? this is while he and henry haven't been able to talk, communication lockdown, no conversations with henry whatsoever to even ask if he'd be okay with confirming their relationship like that. (book alex would ne-ver go public without explicit consent and support from henry) and then afterward the king is like "oh well technology these days, they can fake photos and emails" my dude the first son already announced it live on tv. there's no choice to be made there. you can't say "it was all faked" when alex claremont-diaz already told the world it was not fake. lmfao.

there is one thing -- JUST ONE THING -- that i appreciate about the film. and that is leaving out all the h*rry p*tter references. (to be fair, the book was written before the infamous transphobic twitter spiral, and also casey mcquiston, the author, has since actually removed the hp/jkr references in her book. which. bless. i didn't actually know that until i looked it up right now. i ought to buy a newer version.)

anyway. the book is really, really good. it offered me great escapism the first time i read it. it offers me comfort now rereading it. the movie........... was not it. there were certainly pretty men kissing and boning in it so if that's what you're looking for it's fine. (although i hold that alex's actor does not look like alex to me, which was actually one of the reasons i didn't initially want to watch, on a petty note) but as far as the meat of the story, the heart of it, the depth of it, it just wasn't there.

but it did get me to reread the book, so at least there's that.