#they had to send their children out of town. there were very few families that did that (since you had to have

[swallowtail-ageha]

how about uuuuuuhhhh ♦ for adeline, and two ൠ for adella and arianna !

-Quirks and hobbies headcanon, Adeline

Adeline loved to compose poetry in her spare time! She had a very convoluted and obscure prose, and it made her poems very hard to decypher. Because of that she always kept them to herself and never published them

-Random Headcanon

Adella

Adella was very much the victorian equivalent of those girls who drop out of highschool because they cannot keep up with the pace. Got signed up in an out-of-city school for girls and hated it here and ended up getting kicked out. Applied for the position of blood saint in training because her parents were extremely disappointed in her and she wanted to get their approval back while she was 16-ish. Ended up being a religious nutjob along the way

Arianna

Aside from prostitution she also sold her blood as a side gig, especially to church hunters that ran out of vials. Due to the side effects of her blood, she became quite popular and that + the money she got from it + sexual favours were the reason she was permitted to stay living in the gated area of cathedral ward. She was taught bloodletting as a sort of failsafe by one of those "older" blood saints (one of those who came immediatelu after the research hall experiments) who took pity on her

[mint-8]

Platonic Yandere Soldier × GN! Reader

- Yandere Soldier who has dedicated their entire lives to the military, being "encouraged" by their parents and grandparents in order to climb up the ranks and obtain prestige for their family name. They are very efficient when it comes to fighting, survival skills, and leadership of both large and small groups.

- Yandere Soldier who, as part of their training, was drafted over to your little town near the border so they could get a proper firsthand experience on how to protect small patches of land from possible invaders.

- Yandere Soldier whose stoic and pissed off looking face with multiple scars doesn't get them much favor from the townsfolk, with the children running away, the ladies too scared to get close and most of the men staying far away when they go the pub.

- Everyone's afraid of them, except you. Kind, sweet you who felt a lot of empathy for the soldier who is putting their lifes at risk so they can protect your small home. Kind you who, every time you pass by them when walking in the main plaza, greet them with a wave and a sweet smile, asking them how their patrol had been going or if they wanted to go the pub later to get some drinks. Adorable you who always invite them to your home so you can chat for a bit, but if they can't, then you can give them some of the sweets you've been making! As a thank you for their effort protecting your village.

- Yandere Soldier who isn't sure how to react to the kindness from such a cute civilian who clearly wants to be their friend. They are incredibly socially awkward as they never really needed to talk much to others. Giving orders or receiving orders were much up their alley. But now they have this sweet little thing asking them for their OPINION? Sweets or tea preferences? They can't believe it.

- Yandere Soldier who, after some tries to strike a conversation, actually answers! They might sound about bit blunt and curt, but they are giving their very best to not stutter or look like a fool! Why, yes, they would love to go eat some of the sweets you've made! They would also enjoy reading some of the new books from the series you enjoy!

- Yandere Soldier who becomes very close to you and genuinely considers you to be their most important person and friend, and who promises to write to you everyday when they inevitable finish their training in your town and need to go back to finish their service.

- Yandere Soldier who keeps their promise and does write you every time they can, giving you updates about recent events in the military and even sending gifts that they thought you might like.

- Yandere Soldier who, when they finish their training, is luckily send back to your village to be a permanent protector for the area! It definitely had nothing to do with the few connections they had and the good will he acquired during their service, and who definitely didn't insist on taking that specific area to protect. No, that's crazy!

- Yandere Soldier who has become more desirable in the eyes of the townsfolk. With your encouragement they have started to smile more and be more gentle with others! Now the villagers are trying to hang out with them! The men? Inviting them to go for some drinks! The ladies? Flirting and complimenting them on their achievements! The children? Asking them to tell stories about their time while training and carrying them on their shoulders!

- Yandere Soldier who sees all this new socialization as an obstacle between their best friend and themselves, but you seem to be happy so they are willing to put up with it if it means seeing you smile.

- Yandere Soldier who might get married one day. Maybe have kids or might live their entire lives single. But what won’t change, it’s their love for the only person who ever cared enough to talk to them, you. Their best friend, their only friend. They are more than willing to go to war against the entire planet, if it means protecting your happiness.

[pinkthrone445]

~Partner in crime~ Part 1

Part 2

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:soft, cute, young Melissa

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary :When they send you to work back in your home town, you start to recall all your memories from your teen years involving the redhead.

For the first time in 20 years, you returned to the city where you spent your teen years, again in Philly, again at the last place that you felt like home.

While you were arranging the last things on your desk at the police station, one of your new co-workers left a folder on your desk with the latest cases that needed investigation, setting the last detail on the table, you sat down and opened the folder, immediately a surname caught your attention, Schemmenti. A soft laugh came from your lips, might a lightning struck you if it wasn't fate that caused that coincidence. From the moment you were told that you would be transferred to Philly to work, you started thinking about the redhead and all the memories together from your childhood, and now her last name was rigth in front of you like a sing from destiny.

The memories of the first time you saw her came back immediately...

-Many years ago-

This was the worst thing that could happen to you, 5 years since your mother passed away your life began to go into a tailspin, not only did you lose your best friend and confidant, but also your father had married a new woman and they had decided to go live together in a new place forcing you to spend time with her and her children who treated you very badly. You couldn't wait until you were two years older to be considered an adult and be able to leave that house.

However, it couldn't be all bad, when you moved to the new neighborhood, you got to know the Schemmenti family, a family with too many children and too much temperament, but no matter how crazy they were, no one were more kind to you than them. The family was made up of 5 sisters and 4 brothers, they all welcomed you immediately, but a special redhead started to take care of you and treat you as if you were part of her family too.

The first day you arrived in the neighborhood she brought freshly baked cookies for everyone. As you were returning to the moving truck to get more things to unload, your eyes fell on her, she was a few years older than you and her red hair like a sunset and her amazing body immediately caught your attention, her smile was shining too brightly and that plate she was holding gave off an incredible aroma that made your stomach growl immediately

-"Hi neighbor... I'm Melissa and he is my little brother Tony...-The young redhead spoke pointing to a skinny little kid beside her with her free hand-"We are your neighbors from across the street and we brought you cookies to say welcome"-You stood watching her without making any move, debating in your mind whether she was real or had come out of your deepest fantasies in your head, since she was too perfect to be true. One of your half-brothers pushed you out of the way takin you out of your trance, making you stumble and fall on the grass so that he could talk to the redhead

-"Don't pay attention to her, she's a looser and stupid girl, don't waste time with her, I'm much more interesting" - He said and went to grab a cookie from her plate, but she moved it away looking at him with a big frown. While your half-brother was much taller than her, Melissa's look was intimidating and made your brother take a few steps back. She handed the plate to Tony, her little brother, and walked beside you, stretching out her hand to help you up. Once you got up, she helped you shake your clothes off the grass that had stuck

-"You okay Hon?" - she asked and you nodded smiling a little

-"Thank you... I'm (Y/N)" - You said softly and she smiled too

-"A lovely name... Do you need help with those boxes? We are too many siblings and we are bored today"-she offered and you smiled so much more

-"Are you real? Because you seem and act like an angel to me" - You said without thinking and she laughed

-"Where did you get that cheesy phrase from? Some old TV show?"-she made fun of you and you blushed making her regret what she said immediately- "I'm sorry, it was just a joke, let's go, we will help."

With the extra set of hands, in a short time you finished emptying the moving truck and assembling some furniture, giving you some time to rest and regain energy. The redhead and her little brother sat next to you on the front steps of your house sharing some cookies, which although they had already cooled, were still delicious.

-"So... Tell me about you, what made you move to this side of Philly? Your dad's work? School? Murder plans? Government problems?" - she asked bitting a cookie

-"Dad's new family wanted for us to move with them when they got married, no space for arguing. So they bought this house so we all could fit, and I had to change school and everything to come here even though I didn't wanted to and I begged to stay with my grandma... I'm sorry our story it's not very exiting... What about all of you? You were born here?"-it was your turn to ask while you took a sip from the carton of milk that she had brought from her house

-"Yeah, most of us were born in that house, even my mom was born there. The only one who was born in another place was one of my oldest siblings, he is a son of my dad's side before he married mom...No fun origin story from my side either, but my family it's pretty fun and having so much siblings make easy to get away with almost anything. I just have to do enough to stay in my mom's top five and keep being my nana's favorite"-she took the carton out of your hand taking a sip too

-"No matter what I do, I'm always on the bottom of the podium for my dad and for my stepmother I'm not even in the competition" - You said with your mouth full and she looked at you worried and sad for you

-"Catherine! Tony! Come! Mom says that the food is ready and you have to set the table!" - one of her sisters yelled from the door across the street and the little brother ran to the other side of the street immediately

-"Ugh, that's Kristin Marie, my blackmailer and the most annoying of my siblings. Do you want to eat with us? You will love nana's food!"- she invited you standing up and you looked at her confused

-"Won't she get mad? They aren't expecting me to go there to eat" - You said a little bit shy and she made a dismissive face

-"Don't worry about it, we are too many, she won't even notice" - she grabbed your hand pulling you with her.

Immediately when you entered the house, there were siblings of different ages and heights occupying every corner of the house, they were all talking loudly trying to make themselves heard, their mother and nana were in the kitchen humming some Italian song that came from the radio and a beautiful puppy ran between your legs. The house was very picturesque, the armchairs covered with plastic and decorated with colorful cushions, the walls of each room were of different colors and some had an embroidery decoration. The plates and cups had flowers painted on them and the room was filled with the aroma of coffee, in the center of the table a clay vase on a beautiful and delicate fabric. All the furniture had different decoration figurines on top and the walls were full of photos and frames as if they were telling a story.

There were plants in every corner of every room and a few toys on the carpet indicating that the little ones had been playing until recently.

As you crossed paths with the redhead's brothers and sisters, she introduced them to you, they all greeted you attentively and took advantage of the moment to fight or joke with the redhead about something insignificant.

When you met and greeted almost all the siblings, you helped Melissa set up and arrange the dishes on the table. Her nana came out of the kitchen carrying a pot almost as big as her, placing it on the table on a kitchen towel next to a ladle. Her mother came carrying three different varieties of salads and also put it on the table next to a few pieces of bread. The moment her grandmother uncovered the big pot, her glasses fogged up and a delicious aroma reached your nose, making you salivate immediately. The old woman served the pasta with the sauce on each plate and everyone started passing the dishes to the next sibling sitting beside them so everyone got a serving, then they passed you the cheasse so you could grate a little bit on your plate. Her Nana blessed the food and everyone started eating immediately.

You let out a hum of approval as soon the food touched your tongue

-"Are you enjoying it kiddo?"-Her nana talked and when you lifted your eyes, you saw her looking at you

-"I am ma'am, it's fantastic. It's been years since I ate something so delicious, thank you very much for the love you have put into this food" - You said having another spoon full

-"That's so sweet... When did you had this kid?" - The redhead's grandmother asked her daughter and she laughed

-"Mom, that kid it's not mine, I don't know where she came from" - The redhead's mother explained and you blushed

-"I invited her to lunch, she is the new neighbor of the house across the street"-Melissa explained and her mother nodded

-"Oh... How old are you sweetheart?" - Her grandma asked

-"I'm about to turn 17 in a few weeks ma'am" - You answer being as polite as you could

-"Please, call me Nana as all the other kids, ma'am makes me feel so old"-The woman touched her hair in a fancy and playful way

-"You are old nana" - one of the youngest of the kids said innocently

-"And you lost your right to dessert" - The grandmother quickly answered making you all laugh.

After the meal, they served an amazing and delicious tiramissu that made your stomach feel butterflies.

When everyone finished eating, you helped clear the table and the redhead decided to show you the rest of the house.

You learned that she shared a room with one of her older sisters, the room was perfectly divided in two by the different decorations that each one had placed on each side. It had a big window on the side that the redhead slept on, that made her have the perfect view to your window, that for some reason made you smile.

At the end of the tour, Melissa's Nana packed you some leftovers from the food and the dessert before you went to your house.

As soon as you opened the door, your dad started to talk at you really loudly, almost yelling. He was mad because you spend more time in the neighbor's house than planed and you didn't come back home sooner to help finish the furniture, even your step siblings got mad at you because they had to do a little more work. But nothing could change the happiness you had that moment for finding such a good future friend.

When night came and you were about to fall asleep, you felt a soft knock on the window, scared you grabbed your hockey stick and went to open it.

What kind of thief would knock on the window before entering? You didn't know, but you preferred to be cautious.

You didn't understand how someone could hit your window if you were on the second floor of the house. When you opened it, you almost hit the redhead on the head, but you stopped just in time as you recognized her. She was up in a tree in your garden, sitting in a branch that was really close to your window, smiling at you maliciously when she saw your scared face

-"What are you doing here Melissa?! you almost scare me to death" - You said putting the stick on the floor

-"I like to see that you can take care of yourself... Come on, follow me" - she said without waiting for an answer, climbing the tree higher. A little scared by the height, you followed her, trying to imitate the agility and security with which she climbed each branch. Before you could say anything else, the redhead climbed and jumped a small gap onto the roof of your house and stretched out her hand to help you do the same, unsure you looked down and hugged the branch tightly

-"Come on! I used to do this all the time when the house was for sale, come, trust me, I will help" - she insisted still with her hand stretched. With trembling all over your body, you took her hand and as soon as she saw you letting go of the tree, she pulled your arm tightly pulling you into her body passing the small gap, holding you close until you finally opened your eyes and noticed that you were on firm ground on the roof-"See? You can trust me" - she said and you nodded separating from her body

-"What are you doing here at this time of the night?" - You asked her and she sat on the roof, taking two spoons and an ice cream carton from her backpack, patting the place beside her, carefully you sat too, taking a spoon

-"I just wanted to eat ice cream without my brothers stealing from me... And see the stars... And to know more about you... You know, since we'll be neighbors... I want to assure that I'm choosing my future partner in crime wisely" - she said laughing and eating the ice cream with you.

[avastrasposts]

Bona Dea - part 4

Plot: Stumbling through a dark town, general Marcus Acacius encounters the festival of Bona Dea. But what at first seems like just a pleasurable way to spend the night leaves a greater impression on him than he counted on.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

General Marcus Acacius x female reader

Warnings: Explicit smut. No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate if you're a Roman noble lady in 2nd century Tuscany?

Word count: 7.4k

A/N: I'm back with part four of Bona Dea! Part 1, 2 and 3 are linked above. After the events of the last part, Acacius is now on his way to Rome with his domina to start planning for their new life together. I was originally thinking this would be the final part but the chapter got very long so there will be a 5th part too.

A few notes on the Latin. I think most of it is pretty self-explanatory but just in case: Carrisme - dearest or sweetest Letica - a vehicle, a litter used for carrying people Vita mea - my life Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia - Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius - Wherever you are, I will be

Marcus remained true to his word, he was there when you woke an hour later. The wagon had come to a stand still and he was gently caressing your cheek as he roused you from sleep with a soft whisper. 

“Carrisime, wake up. We’ve arrived at the inn, let’s get inside,” his arm was warm on your shoulder as he sat up, his cloak still wrapped around you. “Alba,” he said, his voice a bit louder, “wake up, girl, rouse yourself.” 

He held your hand as you stepped from the carriage into the courtyard of a country inn, and reached out to steady Alba as she stepped down too. 

“Cauponi,” he called, seeing the door open, “send someone to take care of the horses and the ladies’ luggage. I want to get them inside and settled as fast as possible, they’ve had a very harrowing day.” 

The guest master nodded and called over his shoulder to someone on the inside. Marcus kept his arm around you, keeping you steady on your feet, as he gestured to one of his men to help Alba. Grateful for his solid body next to yours, you ventured into the inn. A slave girl bowed low and waved you along, leading you all up the stairs to the guests’ quarters. The room she showed you too was small but comfortable, and you gratefully sank down onto the bed. Even though you’d slept in the carriage, the events of the day were catching up with you and you felt tired to the bone. Alba must’ve felt much the same, because she sat down on the bed next to you, aided by Marcus’ soldier. She gave him a grateful smile as he bowed and retreated. Marcus remained in the room, giving orders to the slave girl while you put your arm around Alba and pulled her close. She leaned her head on your shoulder and let out a deep breath. 

“You’re safe now, puella,” you soothed her quietly, “we’ll get a good night’s rest and then the general will escort us to Rome.” 

“We won’t go back home?” she asked and you shook her head. 

“Lunaris gave orders to pack up and move the household to Rome, remember? I will have to figure out what to do with it all when they arrive. But it will take them some weeks to get to Rome.” 

“Where will we stay when we get there?” she looked up at you with worried eyes and you realised you hadn’t thought of that yet. Marcus had asked you to begin a new life with him in Rome, but what did that mean? You couldn’t move in with an unmarried man, you needed a place to stay until everything had been sorted. You bit your lip as you tried to think of a solution, but Marcus came to your aid, as was becoming his habit. 

“I have a good friend, Titus Cassian Aurelius, I’ve known him almost my whole life and I trust him with everything. He’s married and lives with his wife and two children near my villa on the Palantine, you’ll both stay with him for as long as is needed while you get your affairs sorted.” 

“He won’t mind? I can rent something nearby, I don’t want to impose on him and his family,” you said as Marcus sank down next to you on the bed. 

“It was his idea, the whole thing actually, he’s a very strategic man, my most trusted advisor,” Marcus said and then chuckled quietly. 

“She’s already falling asleep again,” he nodded with a smile at Alba whose eyes had already slipped close again, “Get her to bed and come find me, I’m in the room next door. I’ve ordered them to serve dinner there,” he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your temple. 

Marcus left and you tucked in Alba, lifting her legs onto the bed and covering her with the bedding. She looked peaceful sleeping, and you suddenly felt very tired yourself. The events of the bandit’s attack had been spinning at the back of your mind since you woke up in the carriage, now they filled your head, the choked gasp that escaped Lunaris as the man slit his throat repeating in your ears. You suddenly needed Marcus to hold you, to feel his warm body wrapped around yours, just to make you feel safe. 

You tapped lightly on Marcus’ door and he quickly opened. One look at your eyes misted with tears, and he pulled you over the threshold as he closed the door, pulling you into his chest. 

“Carrisime,” he mumbled into your hair as you buried your face in his soft tunic, his warm hand coming up to cup the back of your head, his arms holding you tight, “hush, vita mea, it’s over, you’re safe now. I’ll always keep you safe, amor.” 

He stroked your back gently, slow soothing movements as your shoulders shook with each sob. All that could be heard was your whimpering, and Marcus’ softly mumbled words of comfort, reassuring you that you were safe, over and over again, until finally your breathing calmed down and your tears subsided. Marcus pulled back a little and gave you a small smile, cupping your jaw to wipe at your tear stained cheeks before he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. 

“I think you need some food, it’s been a very troublesome day. Come,” he took your hand and led you over to the table where a small dinner had been laid out. The inn was fairly simple, but Marcus’ room was clearly meant for guests of a higher status because it had the reclining seats next to the low table. With a grateful sigh you sank down on one of them and Marcus poured a cup of wine and handed it to you. 

“Here, drink slowly, and have some food, it will make you feel much better.” 

He reclined on the other seat as you gratefully sipped the wine, it wasn’t very good, but the sharp flavour of the grapes warmed you. Marcus filled a bowl with a simple stew and added some of the meat before he passed it to you. 

“Here, eat, carissime,” he said, his eyes softening as they met yours and you took the bowl, He moved his hand to carefully push a strand of hair behind your ear, “I wish we could’ve been together in some easier way, I hate to see you so upset.” 

“I’ve never felt so helpless before,” you sighed, “even when my father married me to Lunaris. I could always do something about my life, change something to make it more bearable. I had protection as his wife. But to see Lunaris pulled out of the carriage, and then the other man pulled me out, we were at their mercy and there was nothing I could do to protect myself or Alba. It felt like my world shattered when there was no one to help us. I was so helpless.”

Marcus shook his head wistfully, “I regret my plan, I should’ve taken out Lunaris myself, I never wanted to make you feel helpless. You’ve always seemed so strong, so capable, it’s what attracted me to you when we first met. Ordering me, a general, around like you’d done nothing else your whole life.” The last thing he said with a small chuckle and you smiled back at him as you swallowed down some more of the stew. 

His face grew serious again and he sighed, “I forget when I’m with the army, surrounded by soldiers, how vulnerable women’s situation can be. I forbid my soldiers from hurting any women in the cities we conquer, but I wasn’t always a general who could command his own soldiers. I’ve seen first hand how men treat women after the battle is over.”

“Do you ever think of the people who are killed in all the wars?” you asked quietly and Marcus nodded. 

“Yes, often. But when I was young, I never thought about them. To be a soldier and fight excited me, I was stronger than almost anyone, no one could beat me. And when Roman soldiers fell, I grieved the ones I called friends, but they’d had proud deaths, for the glory of Rome. They would be honoured by the gods for their sacrifice.” 

He paused and put some more stew and bread in your bowl, “Eat and drink, carissime, and then you’ll sleep well tonight.” 

You did as he said as Marcus rubbed his large palm over his face and sighed again. 

“But I’m not young any more, and now they stay with me. Both the ones I’ve killed and the ones who die on my orders. I’ve lost count of all the men I’ve sent to their deaths. Even when we win great victories, men always die on both sides. War is brutal and I find I have less stomach for it these days.” 

“And the men you killed today? Will they stay with you?” 

“Maybe, but probably not. I feel no guilt about killing them, they were bandits. Even if I hired them to attack Lunaris, they were criminals. Titus got them from the local jail, they were headed for the arena.” 

Marcus put his bowl down and took your hand, gently pulling you to your feet, “Stay with me tonight, carissime, no one will disturb us.” 

You nodded as he led you to the bed and helped you out of your sandals, removing your jewellery as you undid your hair. His hands were soft as they brushed over your skin, unwrapping you until you stood in front of him in just your stola. With a soft smile he touched his fingertips to your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw and cupping it. 

“I need to pay tribute to Bona Dea for guiding me to you, and giving me the chance of being with you for more than just one night,” his voice was low, the room very quiet except the crackling of the fire. You looked up into his eyes, warm and golden

“I want to spend all my nights with you, Marcus,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss his smiling lips as he wrapped his arms around you and returned the kiss. 

“I hope you want to spend all your days with me too, carissime,” he mumbled against your mouth, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I do,” you replied, tugging him gently onto the bed and pushing back the bedding. 

Climbing into bed, getting under the covers with Marcus instead of falling into it in a frenzy of kisses and arousal, felt pivotal, even if the moment was very domestic, under strange circumstances. When Marcus wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest, you breathed a deep sigh of relief. Never had your husband made you feel this safe and content, so treasured. And despite the tumultuous events of the day, you soon fell into a deep sleep, tucked against Marcus' chest and with his arms around you. 

The next morning you woke, still wrapped in Marcus’s arms. It took you a moment to remember where you were, but at the sight of the strange room, the memories came flooding back. You turned your head to look at Marcus and found him just blinking awake, rubbing a drowsy hand over his eyes. 

“Good morning, dominus,” you smiled at him, pushing back one of the dark curls from his forehead. 

“Good morning, my domina,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sleep as he yawned wide. 

He pulled you close again, guiding your head to his chest, “It’s too early, I haven’t slept this well in many months, let’s steal some time, carissime.” 

You pressed a kiss against his chest and he grumbled low in appreciation as he closed his eyes. 

He didn’t get many minutes of extra sleep though, barely no time seemed to pass and there was a heavy knock on the door. 

“General, it’s septima hora,” a voice called. 

“Thank you, Orbius. Tell the men to prepare to march.” 

With a grumble he pushed himself up and glanced down at you, still curled up against him. 

“One more day, tonight we’ll be in Rome and we can start preparing for our lives together properly.” 

“I can’t wait, Marcus,” you replied, sitting up too. He took your chin between his thumb and finger and pulled you close, his mouth finding yours for a slow kiss. 

“One for the road,” he smiled, “Come, let’s sneak you back to your room.” 

The day in the carriage was long, but you and Alba passed the time by watching the landscape roll by and chat with Marcus who often rode next to the carriage and entertained you both with stories of his travels. With his men nearby, he couldn’t appear to be more than a casual acquaintance of your husband’s who’d just happened to rescue you from the bandits. But his smiles as he looked down at you filled you with warmth, and the mild December day seemed to hold a promise of spring as the arcadian countryside near Rome passed by.  

You’d been to Rome once before as a young woman with your father, while emperor Marcus Aurelius still ruled. But not even the vague images in your memory could prepare you for seeing the grand capital of the empire up close again. With Alba pressed to your side, you both all but hung out of the carriage window, trying to catch a glimpse of the sprawling metropolis as the Aurelian Gate drew near. The structure loomed high over you, letting a steady stream of carriages, horses and pedestrians into Rome through the imposing city wall. Alba’s eyes were wide, the walls from your own small hometown were nothing in comparison to the thick bulwark that served to protect Rome. 

The small force that had escorted you and Alba diverted to barracks at Campus Martius, and Marcus and two officers led the two carriages towards the Palantine and Titus’ villa. The Aurelian Way was wide and let the traffic pass easily as the tall buildings on either side grew more and more grand, the road beginning to snake its way up towards the crest of the hill. Soon the small party turned on to a narrower road and came to a halt in front of a gate. The sentry challenged the driver but snapped a sharp salute when he saw Marcus on horseback. 

“General Acacius, welcome back, I’ll let Cassian Aurelius know that you have arrived and send men to take care of your party.” 

“Thank you, Quintus,” Marcus replied, waving the two carriages through the gate. 

Titus Cassian Aurelius’ villa was grand on a scale you’d never seen before, your own back home was nothing by comparison. You stepped down from the carriage as Marcus swung himself from his horse. 

“My lady, it has been my pleasure to keep you safe on this journey, despite the grievous circumstances I found you in. My condolences again for the loss of your husband. I hope to see you soon again.” 

With that, he bowed low, before turning on his heel and marching with sharp steps away into the house. It stung you a little, the way he had to seem almost indifferent to you while in front of others. It would be many weeks before your husband’s affairs were put in order, to declare you a widow and make it possible for Marcus to properly wed you. Until then he would have to appear to treat you as a fleeting acquaintance in public. Perhaps he could visit Aurelius’ villa regularly, they were old friends after all, and you could see him then. Even if Marcus couldn’t treat you like his wife yet, just seeing him would be enough, at least you’d both be in the same room. 

A slave escorted Alba and you through beautifully decorated rooms and hallways until you reached two interconnected rooms in the guest quarters of the house. 

Every wall was covered by mosaics and paintings, and in alcoves and quads were fresh flowers and works of art, beautiful effigies of the gods. The two rooms assigned to you both, opened up to a walled garden, and somewhere behind the evergreens you could hear tinkling water. 

“Domina Aurelius would like to know that the villa’s bath is yours to use should you wish to refresh yourself after your journey,” the servant slave woman said as she stood by the door, waiting while you and Alba made yourself comfortable in your new lodgings. “There’s an alcove for your maid here, and the latrina is through that door.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, “a bath sounds like a wonderful idea. Could you please show us where they are and arrange for fresh clothes to be brought there?” 

The woman nodded and stepped aside to let you leave the room again. She led you to the villa’s thermae and left you to be cared for by the slave woman there. It was bliss to sink into the warm water and rinse off the dust and grime of the road. You lounged in the sunken pool while the woman worked on Alba, massaging sweet smelling olive oil into her skin and scraping it off. When your turn came, you all but fell asleep under her ministrations. The scraping of the strigil made your skin feel soft and warm and you both yawned wide as you made your way back to your rooms. But you weren’t left alone for long, there was a knock on the door and a dark haired man entered. 

He bowed low and introduced himself as the master of the house. 

“And call me Titus, please,” he said, a warm smile on his open face, “any friend of Marcu’s is a friend of mine.” 

“Thank you for letting us stay here, Titus,” you replied gratefully, “I don’t know what we’d do if it wasn’t for your generosity.” 

“It’s no trouble, the villa is big enough as you can see, and my dear wife was delighted by the idea of having some female company stay with us for a while,” he chuckled lightly, “She has no female relatives and and I have been away for a long time, she’s been running the house and taking care of our rag tag bunch of children. To have you two in the house will lift her spirits immensely.” 

The fast thrumming of bare feet could be heard from the hallway outside the door and Titus’s bright blue eyes sparkled as he turned towards the sound.

“I think you’re about to meet one of my offspring, by the sound of it, Gaius, my oldest son.” 

A boy about the age of eight tumbled through the door, a big grin on his face as his father caught him and swung him up in the air. 

“You’ll wake up the dead with all that noise, Gaius,” Titus laughed, “What’s the rush?”

“Mater said to tell you that dinner will be served any moment and you should bring our guests into the dining hall.” 

“Then we best do as she commands, and not upset the cook by letting his food grow cold,” Titus set Gaius down on the floor and extended his arm to you, “Please, domina, let me escort you, Gaius, show some good manners and escort Alba.” 

Titus' friendly manner and easy laugh made you feel comfortable in his company almost straight away. And the fact that he was Marcus’ most trusted advisor further warmed you to him. You knew he knew about you and Marcus, he was the one who’d fashioned the plan for the ambush after all, and he seemed to have accepted Marcus’ words about you without any hesitation or doubt. You accepted his arm with a smile to match his and let him lead you out into the hallway. As you walked, Titus bent his head to yours and whispered. 

“My wife and children don’t know about you and Marcus, I’ve kept it from them to make the secret easier to contain. But my wife is a very perceptive and clever woman, she might guess your attachment anyway.”

“Marcus said he trusts you with his life, does that extend to your wife?” you asked, wondering silently how you’d keep your eyes from wandering to Marcus as soon as he was near. 

“It does, he’s known her for as long as I have and she is a good friend of his too. In fact, I’ve often wished for him to find a woman to marry to equal her. She is my eternal pillar, I truly do not know how I’d go through life without her by my side,” Titus replied with a soft smile. He glanced over his shoulder, Gaius was chattering away to Alba who was laughing at his excitement about the new horse that had just arrived. 

“I’m looking forward to meeting her, she sounds like a remarkable woman,” you said, “And Marcus is lucky to have such good friends, I really can’t thank you enough for your help.” 

“Marcus and I have known each other since we were boys, he’s saved my life countless times and we’ve been through many campaigns together. He is a great man and I’m proud to call him my friend.” Titus' emotions were clear on his face as he turned a corner and led you through a set of wide double doors into the dining hall, “I have never seen him so affected by a woman before, as he was when he returned to the camp after meeting you. If I can help him find the same happiness I have with my Antonia, I’ll do whatever he needs.” 

Titus gave your arm a gentle squeeze before he held out his hand towards the woman who was walking across the room. 

“Domina Lunaris, please meet my darling wife, Antonia Cassius Aurelius.” 

The tall woman’s dark skin gleamed under the light of the oil lamps as she smiled at you. Her jet black hair matched that of her husband and her son, but while theirs was cut short and neat, her tight curls were piled high on her head and fastened with gold combs. 

“Domina Lunaris, we’re honoured to have you and your cousin as our guests,” she embraced you warmly, taking you off guard with her fondness, “I heard of the attack and how General Acacius came to your rescue, what an ordeal! I’m so glad he was there, and please know that you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need.” 

“Domina Aurelius, we are very grateful for your hospitality, and for General Acacius' aid, we can’t thank you enough.” 

“Domina.” 

The low voice was very familiar by now, and a frill of excitement shot through you as you turned to Marcus who had appeared behind Antonia. He bowed low as Antonia stepped back to give him space to greet you. He was out of his armour and wearing a dark green tunic, foregoing the cumbersome toga. His dark curls looked damp and you guessed he’d been to a thermae too, maybe the one in his own villa before returning here. He looked wonderfully informal, you thought, relaxed, as if he’d left the general at home, or with the soldiers, and come only as Marcus. 

“General,” you replied, curtsied low to him, catching his smile just as you dropped your gaze to the floor, the perfect image of a deferential lady greeting a celebrated Roman officer. “Thank you again for all your aid and for arranging for us to stay here, we’re very grateful.” 

“It has been my pleasure, Domina Lunaris,” he replied, taking your hand and leading you to the table. It was an informal setting, all of you reclining around the same table, even the children were allowed, and you smiled as you watched Gaius bow deeply to Alba as he showed her to her accubitum. 

Titus reclined next to you with Antonia to your other side, Marcus was opposite with Alba next to him. You could feel Marcus’ eyes on you from the moment you reclined on the accubitum, warm and smiling, as the servants brought out the food and wine. It took all you had to not look back at him and smile like a fool, instead you raised your glass in toast as Titus formally greeted Alba and you to their family home. 

“To new friends and new beginnings,” he smiled at you both. You met Marcus’ eyes over the brim of your glass as you sipped the wine, and he winked back at you with a grin. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud, he was clearly giving no care to letting Antonia see his intentions. Already you could sense her curiosity as she took a platter from a servant and offered you the first bites. 

She said nothing about Marcus’ behaviour throughout the dinner, instead the conversation flowed easily around the things Marcus and her husband had seen during their latest campaign. The two men shared stories that made you all laugh, the children giggling as Titus gave a very accurate impersonation of a grumpy Marcus at the end of a very wet and muddy march. You glanced over at the usually so stern general, and found him laughing along with the children as his old friend poked fun at him. Seeing him surrounded by the people who must mean most to him, warmed your heart, and as he turned his gaze on you and smiled, you returned his affectionate look. 

As dinner wound down, Antonia sent the children to bed, and led you all to a smaller, informal room with comfortable accubita filled with pillows, the floor lined with thick rugs to ward off the cold December night. You sat down on one of the recliners, putting a pillow behind your back, but before you could lay down on your side, Marcus sat down next to you, his hand on the small of your back. 

“I’m tired of pretending,” he mumbled, “When the servants have left, I would like to tell Antonia too.” 

“I don’t think she’ll be very surprised,” you smiled at him, “we are terrible at hiding our secret.” 

Marcus gave a soft laugh and glanced over at Antonia who was speaking to a servant. They left an amphora of wine and cups on a small table, and left, leaving the five of you alone in the room. As she turned to the room and came to sit next to her husband, she raised an eyebrow with a smile as she saw how closely Marcus was sitting to you. 

“Something you wish to tell me, Marcus?” she asked, and he chuckled as Titus laughed. 

“It could not have been more obvious if Cupid had stood behind you shooting arrows,” he grinned at you both. 

You felt Marcus shift next to you, his arm sliding more firmly around your waist, and you looked back at him, not bothering to hide the infatuated smile you knew was spreading across your features. 

“Nothing gets past you, Antonia,” he replied, pulling his gaze from you and smiling at her, “It seems Cupid has indeed done me a great favour, and thanks to the protection of the gods and the wit of your husband, I’ve managed to lure her to Rome to be my wife.” 

Antonia’s smile widened and she slapped her husband’s shoulder, “You cur! I knew something was brewing and you told me nothing!” 

“Don’t blame your husband,” Marcus said, “We do need to be careful and keep our commitment to ourselves until the affairs of Lunaris are settled. But as soon as possible, we’ll make an official announcement and be married.” 

“Oh, Marcus, I’m so happy for you!” Antonia rose to her feet and crossed the room, bending down and placing kisses on both his cheeks before she did the same to you, “I’ve wanted love and happiness for you for so many years, I’m so glad you’ve finally found your match.” 

“Thank you, Antonia,” you said, “Now you understand even more why I’m so very grateful to you and your husband for letting me stay with you until all is settled.” 

“For as long as you wish, dear friend,” Antonia assured you, “We’ll be like sisters, after all, Marcus is my brother in all but name.” 

Titus brought forward the cups after that, raising his glass, “Another toast then, to love this time, and to new families.” 

You all drank to that, and Marcus placed a warm kiss on your cheek as he put his cup down. 

“Amor,” he whispered, “Soon I’ll bring you home, and I vow to be the most loving husband Rome has ever seen, nothing will keep me from your side again.” 

When the party finally broke up late at night, you walked with Marcus to his letica while Alba retreated to your rooms, giving you a few moments alone with him. Out of sight from his household guards, he pulled you close by the entrance to Titus’ villa and kissed you deeply.

“I have business to attend to tomorrow, but I will come for dinner tomorrow night again,” he whispered after a long, lingering kiss. 

“I’m counting the days until we can sleep in the same bed again, until I can be properly yours,” you said, leaning your cheek against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. 

“Same, carissime,” he replied, “but know that I’m already yours, you need no law to tell you that. I’ve been yours since the night of Bona Dea,” he tilted your head up with his calloused fingers and kissed you again until you both broke apart, breathless. 

“You make me feel like a young man struck dumb by Cupid’s arrows,” he chuckled, “I really should go, my household will wonder why their master returns from a long campaign only to stay out all night again.” 

“Until tomorrow, Marcus,” you smiled, pressing a final kiss to his cheek. 

The next few weeks fell into a routine, during the days Alba and you would help Antonia with the household, visit her friends and be introduced to her circles of Roman life. In the evenings, almost all of them, Marcus would come for dinner and you would be able to steal a few moments with him alone. You would find a secluded corner of the garden if it was not too cold, he’d wrap his cloak around you as you sat on his lap, cocooned in his warmth. Then you’d let him know if there had been any updates on your husband’s affairs, the slow process to declare you a widow and let you inherit his small fortune. Unsurprisingly your father had tried insisting on you returning to your home town, but you had refused to respond to his letters on that topic. 

These quiet moments with Marcus were the best of your whole day. As much as you enjoyed spending time with Alba and Antonia, seeing Marcus’ face as he arrived at the villa and smiled at you, taking his hand in yours and sneaking off, those were the moments that lived in your heart for the hours when he wasn’t around. 

When your time together was up and you had to return to the others, your lips were always swollen from his kisses, and the imprints of his hands had left warm marks all over your body. Like guilty, giggling school children, you’d sneak back into the dining room or the reception room, cheeks heating up as Titus’ teased you both. 

But then finally came the day you’d been waiting for; the messenger arrived with the documents, stamped with the official mark of your hometown, your husband’s estate was now yours, the assets en route to Rome and you, legally a widow. 

You told Marcus as you sat wrapped together under his cloak on one of the garden benches, and he cupped your face between his big hands and kissed you deeply as the cloak slipped off him. When his lips left yours, he leaned his head against your forehead and closed his eyes for a few moments before he pulled back and looked at you. 

“Carrisime, I never formally asked you to be my wife, even though you know that I wish for nothing else. But now I can finally honour traditions and give you my ring.” 

From the pouch on his belt he took a small package and carefully unwrapped it. The polished gold glimmered in the light as he held it out to you. 

“My hand is joined with yours,” he said, as you took the ring and saw the two hands that embellished the ring, “If you’ll have me.” The last thing he said with a mischievous tone and you looked up at him with a smile, he knew there was no doubt in you, you were his as much as he was yours. Without a word you held out the ring to him to put on your finger, the fourth of your left hand, where the vein that ran to your heart began. 

“Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia,” you whispered as he slipped it on and he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers. 

“Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius”. 

The wedding vows spoken between you in the quiet garden would need to be repeated in front of a priest, with all the ceremony required to legally make you his wife. But as far as Marcus was concerned, he was now your husband. And in the eyes of Rome, the ring on your finger now marked you as his, and he would fight anyone who tried to say otherwise. His lips left your hand and moved to your lips as he pulled the cloak around you both again, wrapping it and his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. The ring felt light on your finger, the cool metal a constant reminder that you had left behind your old life, and could now walk through Rome as Marcus Acacius betrothed. 

You were very late for dinner that evening, but the news of your formal status as widow and the new ring on your finger, stole all the attention away from any concerns of cold food and irritated cooks. 

The very next day Marcus began to plan for the ceremony and feast that would make you his wife. Tradition held that a widow should wait ten months before marrying again, but since no one here knew you or Lunaris, it was decided that tradition could be ignored Your father was also left out of the planning, he’d controlled the choice of your first husband, you were determined he would have nothing to do with your second marriage. 

“It will be just you and me and Titus’ family,” Marcus promised, “We’ll keep the ceremonies so that we don’t anger the gods, but to hell with anyone else.” He’d brought you the knot of Hercules for your wedding day clothes and smiled as you traced your fingers over the decorations in the belt. 

“I think I may have untied the knot a bit too early,” he chuckled, coming up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“I remember my first wedding night,” you said, and Marcus tightened his arms around your waist at the grim tone of your voice, “I was scared, I’d been told it would hurt, and I was trembling when I lay in bed with him. He untied the knot and told me to take off my tunic and then he just tried to push himself in. I cried and he told me that it proved that I was a virgin.” 

“He was a fool,” Marcus said, his tone soothing as he pulled you closer to his chest, his warm body and presence calming you and reminding you that your next wedding night would be very different, “A groom should have experience of the other sex so that he can show his wife how to enjoy married life, it should be a pleasure for both husband and wife.” 

“Oh Lunaris wanted it to be a pleasure alright, he would lecture me when he couldn’t get hard, tell me it was my fault. But not once did he think to make me feel pleasure too. I doubt he’d be able to though, that man could barely find the right hole to stick his cock in.” 

Marcus chuckled softly behind you, his hand closing around yours, still holding the Hercules’ knot belt. 

“Don’t think about him, and don’t think about your first wedding day anymore. This one will only be about us, I want us to have happy memories, and I want you to think about how many times I will make you cry my name in pleasure when I finally get to untie this belt and make you my wife.” 

His words filled you with heat, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder as you reached up and cupped his cheek. 

“Can we find a secluded spot in this villa for just a few minutes?” you mumbled, pressing your lips to the warm skin of his neck. 

“Carissime,” he growled, his voice suddenly low and hungry as his hands tightened on your hips, “you have no idea what a hold you have on me.” 

You smiled against his throat and let your tongue taste the pebbled skin, tasting the salt and musk of him as he took a deep breath, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

“Show me,” you muttered quietly, grazing your teeth over his neck, moving up as far as you could, nipping at the thin skin under his ear. Marcus was gritting his teeth, you could feel it under your lips as you continued to press wet kisses over his throat, his jaw, and you inhaled his warm scent. 

He suddenly pulled away from you, taking a few long strides to the door of the room, closing it firmly, and turning the lock. 

“Here,” he said, his voice low and desirous, coming back to you and pulling you close again, “Here will do if we’re quiet and quick.” 

You nodded and shoved aside the white tunic and belt on the table just as Marcus took hold of your waist and pressed himself against your back. 

“How do you want me?” he murmured, his mouth now at your throat, “from behind like the first night, or up on this table like when I showed that fool Lunaris how I make you scream my name?” Marcus’ control was slipping, he could feel his member rapidly growing hard as he grinded against your soft body, his hands pulling you closer as he marked your throat with his teeth. His mind was buzzing, blood flowing in only one direction and it was almost painful how quickly his cock filled. He groaned into your neck again, rutting against your ass like a dog in heat. It had been over a month since he last had you to himself and now he wanted nothing more than to sink himself into your cunt and feel that addictive heat again. 

You couldn’t respond, just moan as his hands began to slide under your stola, his mouth hot against your skin. His fingers wasted no time in pushing aside your undergarments, sliding into your wet folds, growling against your neck at finding you so ready for him. 

“Marcus…” you pleaded, arching your back and urging him to push deeper in as he curled his fingers and began stroking your insides. He could feel you dripping over him and his cock twitched, pressed up against your soft curves. 

“I think you’re ready for me,” he panted, driving his fingers deeper in as you moaned a little bit louder. He swiftly covered your mouth with his other hand, “Quiet, carissime, quiet, my greedy domina,” he chuckled into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. His fingers slipped out of your wet cunt and you gasped under his palm in anticipation as you felt him reach for his cock. 

“Lean forward for me,” he mumbled, gently pushing you over the table. The cool air of the room chilled your skin as he lifted your stola over your hips, but the warmth of his hands as he kneaded the flesh of your behind shot new heat through you. Soon you felt the weight of him over your back as he leaned forward and pressed kisses to your shoulders, his hand guiding his cock through your folds, your arousal spreading over him as he groaned above you. 

When he breached your tight opening, you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying out his name, and Marcus hissed, cursing low under his breath. His fingers dug into your hips as he pushed in, rocking his hips back and forth to slide himself deeper into your tight cunt. He was growling, a low rumble in his chest, and you felt him pull you back onto his cock, filling you all the way up as he bottomed out. His fingers moved between your legs and found the swollen pearl at the apex, circling his thumb around it. Your response made him press himself firmer against your backside, feeling you contract around him as you moaned under his hand. Choking back a groan he increased the pace, driving deep with each thrust, your grip on his cock was hurrying him towards his own finish and he suddenly moved his hand from your mouth to your waist. 

“Domina…” he panted against you as he pulled you up, making you arch your back against his chest, “I can’t hold on much longer, let me feel you come with me.” 

His fingers were matching the fast rhythm of his hips and the new angle hit a new spot inside you, making you squeeze your eyes shut as your body felt like it was about to combust. 

You could only groan in response, reaching back and tugging at the curls at his neck, pulling his mouth yours to stifle your cries. Your legs seemed to lose all control as you came, Marcus' arm holding you up as he continued to caress your clit and drive his cock up into your spasming cunt. He was groaning into your mouth, his hips erratic as he felt his cock release deep into you, thrusting hard, pushing in as he lost all other thoughts, only your mouth against his and the wet, tight heat of your cunt filled his mind. 

You seemed to come back to your senses faster than Marcus, your legs finding their strength again even though they felt unsteady. Marcus still had a firm grip on your body, his hand slipped from your wet folds to hold onto your hip. He rested his head against your shoulder, taking deep breaths as he drove his softening cock in and out of your cunt a few more times to milk it all out. With a long, shuddering exhale he finally stilled his movements and released his tight grip. 

“Are you still with me, old man?” you teased him lightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Hush, domina,” he chuckled, “don’t mock your ageing soon-to-be husband, you will need to take care of me when I can’t fuck you like this anymore.” 

You giggled as he swatted your behind and kissed him again. He gave a satisfied grumble as he pulled you tight against him. 

“We should probably clean up and be seen in public soon,” you said, “before we raise even more suspicions.” You could feel him dripping out of you as his soft cock slipped out, and he nodded against your back. 

“I can’t wait to have you in my own villa, no one else around, send away the servants, lock the doors, and then we can do this all day,” he said, “I’m making good on my promise from when we first met, when I’m your husband I’m keeping you in my bed, day and night,” he pulled down your stola and smoothed it out, squeezing your behind at the same time, “I do believe you called me your magnus concubinus, I have every intention of living up to that title. 

There was a sudden knock on the door, just as you pulled him in to kiss the wicked smile he’d given you, and you had to end it far too soon. 

“Only a few more days,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek instead, before you went to answer the door.

Tagging some lovely people who showered the first three parts with love: @gothcsz @missladym1981 @txlady37 @timelordfreya @bluesweaters15

@indiegirlunited @jessthebaker @likeficinthewnd @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @inept-the-magnificent

@angiewatson @wintersquirrel @sheepdogchick3 @asobeeee @harriedandharassed @cozylittlepigeon

@i-own-loki @pedrit0-pascalit0

[wyervan]

I'm /super/ curious about your yuletide boys! How does yn come to meet them? Any fun facts you want to share? :3

Moonbug

Hi hi bug!!! Flattered by your interest 🥰

Okay, so my twist on the Krampus legend for Moon’s design was that instead of kidnapping or punishing naughty children, he was actually taking children who were abused or neglected or otherwise needy (bc ofc I can’t help but make the bad guy secretly the good guy right 😝).

But this got me thinking about a case where he would take a child from a family who wasn't unkind or abusive in any way—they were just impoverish and had a hard time feeding themselves. (bc ofc AGAIN I have to take a fun lil Christmas AU and make things depressing lololol mood killer wyervan)

so uhh content warning for uhh.... general human suffering lolol?

Within the actual setting of the AU, the human technology level is roughly at a early 1900s level but in a very remote subarctic landscape. Hungry bellies during the long winter months are commonplace. The setting is inspired by the game Frostpunk! Altho things aren't QUITE as dire as the situation in that game.

y/n is the older sibling and de facto parent to a little sister living in a medium-sized village at the edges of civilization. The pair makes ends meet well enough, doing odd jobs and living a humble but content life in a rented a room above a local tavern.

But harvests were sparse this past autumn and come winter, prices for even the most basic foodstuff have doubled. y/n works their fingers to the bone and often passes on their own rations to give their little sister a proper meal but it's still not enough. To make matters worse, they've fallen ill, and when y/n sends out their little sister with the last of the money to buy bread for the night, she never returns home.

Half-delusional from fever, y/n bundles up the best they can, grabs an oil lantern, and trudges off into the night. In a stroke of rare luck, a fresh coat of snow had fallen that morning, and their little sister's familiar bootprints leave a clear trail. They're able to retrace her steps to find that she suddenly veered off from the usual route to the bakery only a few hundred feet from their home. Why would their little sister suddenly decide to go into the woods? Something must have drawn her attention.

Approaching the treeline, you feel your anxiety spike at the sight of tousled snow and small broken twigs at the end of the trail... and the start of another very different set of footprints leading into the dark boughs. Massive hooves the diameter of your entire face.

Picking up one of the bits of wood in the snow, you see that it's not a twig but a broken piece of wicker. You feel as if you can't breath with the weight of the terrible horror of what's happened settling over you. You knew the legends.

But your sister was the kindest person you knew! She was a child, and occasionally acted as such but still, she had only love and warmth in her heart for almost everyone in town. Surely there must be a mistake!

You make your decision instantly. Drawing your long scarf up over your nose and mouth, you step into the trees, intent on following the hoofprints right up to their owner... and demanding the return of your sister.

* * * * * * *

uhh yeah and then a very snotty stuffed up y/n makes their way by lantern light into the wild winter landscape, over the river, through the woods... until a heavy snowfall picks up and obscures the footprint trail. Exhausted, feverish, hungry, and devastated, y/n collapses in the hollow of a dead tree.

Lucky for them, someone had picked up their scent over an hour ago and had been watching and following their slow progress on his hoofprint trail :3c

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part one

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee

the song in this chapter is "Second Child, Restless Child" by The Oh Hellos !!

a/n: heyyyy part one here we are!! i was going to post requiem first BUT the second part of btk s2 came out today so i couldn't resist posting this first :) playlist will be up very soon too!! hope you guys enjoy!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

It was muggy outside when Billy tied up his horse, and even hotter inside the saloon when he entered through its creaky swinging doors.

It was his current life as a bit of a lone wolf that brought him to this town he stumbled across by mistake, in search of a place to camp the night or ideally- a warm bed, but unsure if that was in the cards for him tonight, he decided to grab a drink instead.

He could hear the music before he saw the band, considering the whole town had apparently turned up to hear them play. Or, it was a Saturday night and no one had much of a better idea of what to do. He wasn't sure, until over the loud chatter and obnoxious shouts of men at the bar he could make out the sweet, damn close to angelic tones of the lead singer.

She was beyond anything he had ever seen, when he finally got a look at the owner of that beautiful voice, his blue eyes lit up in the dim light of the saloon. He flicked up the brim of his hat to get a better view as he leans back against the wall, absolutely mesmerized by the rapid pace at which the young woman's fingers strum over the strings of her guitar with expert precision.

"They saw trouble in my eyes, they were quick to recognize the devil in me."

With every word she sang, the smile he had to resist threatened to make itself seen. He could see the trouble in her eyes, even as they scanned the room- crinkled from the grin on her cheeks. It took Billy a few moments to even register that she wasn't the only one up on that old wooden stage- she wasn't the only one playing.

It surprised him even more when he tore his eyes off her to actually take notice of her band, that it was comprised almost entirely of children. Other than her and one boy behind her with light hair and hauntingly dark eyes who was dedicated well enough to his bass, none of the others seemed to be over fifteen.

A boy and a girl, who seemed to be just about the same age side by side playing little hip drums, and a blonde girl on a fiddle who appeared to be just a few years younger than the beautiful young woman taking up front and centre.

The smell of cigar smoke hits Billy's nose and brings him back to focus on where he was. He's not the only one watching this performance, as much as he felt the tunnel vision pulling him in on the girl with the skirt that spun almost as prettily as she did while she danced to her own music.

Completely lost in the song and the noises of the bar, she does a spin holding firm onto the guitar slung over her shoulder. Her hair flares out around her the same way her skirt does, and she has to steady herself as she stops, facing the old and abused microphone again to continue with the next verse.

"Can you hear it hanging on the wind? Can you feel it underneath your skin?"

Her eyes lock with Billy's as she looks around, the wide smile on her face hardly faltering even as his heart quits for a moment. She gives the man with striking blue eyes a small nod, not missing a beat of the song she was singing.

She was absolutely breathtaking to him. His eyes were stuck on every movement she made, every note she sang, and every word she uttered. He had seen pretty women before, but there was something about this girl that was different.

He couldn't help but notice how well she carried herself; with such confidence, and there was also a certain charm to her little nod as her eyes met his. The song and dance of the band were captivating, but his eyes were glued to her.

He raised up one eyebrow and gave her a little smile as he tilted his head curiously. Her voice somehow gave him a sense of home he hadn't felt since his ma passed. A sweet comfort he hadn't had in years.

He was being crazy, he knew as much- so he shakes his head of the feeling and peels himself off the wall to head over to the bar.

When the song was done, your chest was rising and falling heavily as you smile out at the crowd, waving to a few people before moving to set your well-loved guitar down.

"That's all we've got for y'all tonight. Thank you for listenin' to us take up your space tonight, but I sure hope at least a couple of y'all enjoyed it." You say into the mic with a smile, letting out a slight laugh as the crowd does with you.

"My name is Y/N and this is the Covey, and on behalf of all of us, have a good night! But not so good you don't make it home safe." You wink, signalling the end of our set and giving a quick bow to the crowd before stepping back to pack up.

Despite the shouts from saloon-goers and the usual sounds of the space echoing through, it seems quieter now to Billy without her beautiful voice, and he watches until her guitar case is closed and she passes it off the stage to her older bandmate who was helping collect the instruments.

As a matter of fact, he was staring into his whiskey and debating on whether or not he should even bother trying to talk to her when he's blessed by hearing her pretty voice again.

"Excuse me, miss!"

She's calling out to the busy bartender, leaning over the wood surface and resting her arm across it in front of her.

Now or never, Billy supposed.

"You've got quite the voice," He comments, voice rich and dripping with his unique mish-mash of accents- never having quite committed to one from moving around so much in his youth. "I'd wager you could melt even the coldest of hearts."

She turns her head to look at him, giving up attracting the attention of the barkeep. Up close, her eyes pull him in deeper.

"I'm Billy." He continues, extending a hand to her. It was out of character for him immediately- to offer up his name to someone he'd just met without them asking, but something about her made him unafraid to do so. Or... it was the unfamiliar jitters of nerves lowering his inhibitions.

A smile tugs at your lips as you quickly look him over, recognizing him as the man who had been leaning against the back wall while you were performing. You give his hand a quick and polite shake before responding.

"Y/N." You introduce yourself with a smile, despite having just done so on stage. "Was your heart cold 'til tonight then, Billy? Is that what I'm hearin'?"

"It was pretty cold." He admits, laughing. "But it seems like I've stumbled across just the fire to warm it up."

He looks you over again subtly, taking in how you still seem almost a little breathless from the performance you had just finished. It's interrupted by you laughing, shoulders shrugging as you adjust your top a bit, rolling up your sleeves.

"That's a good one, I must say." You giggle, shaking your head.

"Thanks, came up with it myself." Billy chuckles, mindlessly tapping at his almost empty glass. He figured he should at least come by it honestly if you were going to pick up on him so quick. "Tell me something, though. You're not from here, are ya? What brought you in? This isn't exactly the centre of the entertainment industry."

You look around at his final statement, nodding a bit in agreement. "Well, we're musicians by trade- travel about as we see fit. We're not really... city folks." You answer, looking back over your shoulder toward your band as they pack up and the kids play around on the stage.

"I hear that." Billy agrees, following your gaze. "Cities are too cramped for me."

"A bit of fresh air is good for the soul." You hum as you watch little Harvey and Josie chase each other around and behind the wooden stage and Max tries to wrangle them up. Business as usual.

Billy smiles as his eyes drift from the kids back over to you, letting your statement settle in before he spoke again. "Could I buy you a drink?"

You turn back to him again and nod, your smile returning in full. "I was waitin' for you to ask." You grin, waving again for the bartender who this time sees you and begins to make her way over.

He's a little shocked by your confidence in eagerly accepting a drink, but it just makes him more intrigued as he tilts his head at you. "Alright, then, darlin', what's your poison?" He asks, sliding over his glass and nodding to the woman running the bar for a refill of his whiskey.

"Water with a shot of warm honey aside, if ya got it." You smile to the bartender instead of answering Billy directly. "Please and thank you."

You had always had men offering to buy you drinks after your little shows, this wasn't anything new, but you always found a little bit of fun in seeing their subtle reactions to you ordering your water. Sometimes disappointment, occasionally even anger- but this Billy was the first one to ever smile.

"Well ain't you a fancy one." He chuckles, a small smirk on his face as his glass slides back to him over the countertop and he takes it with a nod of thank you to the woman behind the bar. "You one of those religious temperance girls?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

Your nose scrunches up in response to the thought alone and you shake your head. "Nah." You take the cup of water and the shot glass full of warm honey from the bartender and thank her again quietly. "Just a girl who's overindulged herself one too many times."

Billy takes a sip of his whiskey and nods, watching curiously as you take the honey shot and lick the sweet liquid off your lips delicately.

In theory, that sounded so messy- but you handled it with such grace it honestly could have blown his mind. You must do that often.

"A bit of restraint never hurt anyone." He agrees, watching you dip your finger into what honey clung to the inside of the tiny cup and lick it off your finger before taking your first sip of water to rinse it down. "Hell, sometimes I could use more myself."

You shrug and let out a small laugh at his little joke, looking over at him again and smile as the sounds of the bar are swallowed by the invisible bell jar that seems to have engulfed you both.

"You, uh..." Billy speaks again after a moment, shaking his head a bit to clear his mind. "That song, you write it?"

"That I did." You smile proudly, nodding.

"Ah," He nods, spinning the glass on the counter in front of him. "So, I should ask, do you really have the devil in you?"

The reference to your lyrics makes you smile more and you shrug, taking another sip of your water. "I'd sure hope so." You tease. "I sold my soul to him in an even exchange for our music."

"So your voice is the devil's work, hey?" He laughed, sipping at his glass of whiskey once again.

He took a moment to study you, the way you wiped the inside of the shot glass clean with one delicate finger and licked it free of the stickiness. It drove him crazy just to look at you.

He leaned in a little closer as he continued. "Or are you saying that the whole you is the devil's work? Because I'd agree that you're certainly a little bit of trouble. As the song said, of course."

"That's certainly what I've heard." You giggle, shrugging softly as you put the empty shot glass down. "But I promise you I get into no trouble. We keep to ourselves, The Covey and me."

He smiled at you, the hint of mischief that danced in your eyes, that smile on your face sending chills up his spine.

"Well," He says, leaning in close to you, "You know what they say. The best things in life are dangerous. At least, I'm sure I've heard that somewhere." He chuckles a bit and it comes across with a hint of nervousness as he leans back away from you, not wanting to come across as too forward.

"Says the man with a gun on his hip and two in his coat." You say with a small smirk, nodding toward the inside of his jacket where he had hidden weapons.

He chuckled, admiring your perceptiveness.

There was an understanding about you, one that he was coming to enjoy. It was a quality that was hard to put his finger on.

All he knew was what he had at first glance; a gut instinct about you that screamed, "this will be worth it."

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes glued to your own. "You notice everything."

"Trick of the trade." You shrug, bringing your glass up to your lips again and not looking away from him either.

"What trade?" He asks with a slightly confused laugh. "Does singin' come along with a lot of gunfights or..?"

For the first time while interacting with men at these saloons all across the country, you laughed at one of their jokes. For the first time, it was genuine.

It even catches the ears of your band, who give each other confused but knowing looks as Billy's eyes light up with your laughter, knowing he prompted it to fall from your beautiful lips.

"I didn't take you for a funny one, Billy." You admit after a moment, still giggling as your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"You've got a cute laugh," He said honestly, almost without realizing he'd said it out loud.

He sees your band mates in the corner of his eyes, watching the interaction unfolding before them, and smiled just a little more. He wanted the whole damn saloon to see that he was winning you over right in front of their eyes.

"I could have the worst laugh in the world and you'd still compliment it. You can't trust a man who's tryin' to charm your skirts off." You say, laugh devolving into giggles as you tip your glass toward him.

"Oh, and here I thought my intentions were genuine, and not just to get in your skirts," He said, laughing again. "Is that what you think I am, some kind of creepy bastard with ill intentions?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised that when it's falling from his lips- you actually believe the denial.

"Men often lose themselves in pursuit of provisional pleasures." You comment, tilting your head at him. "It makes it hard to tell when once in a blue moon there's one who means what they say."

He was intrigued. Not necessarily by the comment itself, but more by the intelligence behind those pretty eyes of yours.

He was usually able to play these kinds of games easily, but you seemed to see right through them at every turn.

"Fair play." He says, giving you a nod of acknowledgement, "How do I know I'm the first man you've told that exact little poem to?"

"You just have to trust me." You say with a small smile. "If it helps, I wrote every word in those songs you heard earlier. I only speak when I have somethin' to say, and singin' is much of the same. You don't gotta believe me, but I'll tell you now it's not your wisest move to imply you don't think I'm smart enough to own the words I speak."

He couldn't deny that he had a weak spot for pretty, assertive women. But you were sweet, too, covered in it like the honey you just shot back a few minutes ago.

Those words, that tone, spoke volumes to him.

His lips curled up in a grin, and the tone of his voice took on a slightly more flirtatious edge. "I guess I should just count my lucky stars then. You don't happen to write songs about sweet talking men you meet in nowhere towns, do you?"

"Only about how they're venomous without the correct antidote on hand." You say, leaning against the counter and shifting your weight onto one hip.

He chuckles, his eyes glued on yours, not looking away.

God, he was in trouble.

The alcohol was making him cocky, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel. "And what if I came to you, hat in hand, asking for a cure? Begging you for a cure, because I'd been bitten by this sweet speaking cowgirl who's left me weak at the knees?"

"I'd tell you the nearest damn thing to anti-venom is just to run." You advise him, taking another drink before putting the glass down and sliding it across the bar. "And you'll find the real thing in the next dead end town you call a home, and then the cycle begins again."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Damn it, she had him. He couldn't even argue with that one.

He wanted to kiss her so bad right now, respectfully, of course, but he knew he should wait for some kind of signal from her. So instead he played it cool, grinning back at her.

"Okay, okay. What if," He said, watching with a smile as you raised an eyebrow at him over the edge of your glass, waiting for him to continue while you polished off your water. "And I'm just saying hypothetical here, theoretically, if he promised to stay in that next dinky ass town for a month just to see the woman he fell for again?"

"Then that would make you a fool." You answer. "Theoretically, of course." You add with a wink, standing up straight again.

You wanted to stay, to talk until last call and learn all his secrets- but you knew better than to fall for it all.

"Well, it sure was nice to meet you, Billy."

His heart drops at the words and he sighs, his expression softening as he saw you standing up from the bar.

He should keep it casual, he reminded himself. Be nice. Don't mess this up.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, darlin'." He stood up again slowly, his eyes lingering on yours for a few seconds, before he spoke again. "I hope we run into each other again, if only for a moment. Take care of yourself, Miss..."

"I don't doubt we will." You smile, giving him a small punctuating bow as your bandmates wave you back over.

You glance back at him over your shoulder as you walk away, giving him one of your winning smiles before picking up your guitar case and following your friends out the back door.

Billy stood there in the saloon for a few moments, watching you go with a wistful, almost regretful look on his face.

There was something about you that made him want to do stupid things.

"Run after her," his other half shouted. "I don't care if you look like a damn fool."

But he just stood there, like a damn fool, until he finally shook his head and muttered to himself. "Damn it."

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[thewritetofreespeech]

Hey! Hope you’re doing good. May I ask a scenario about Mori Ougai x reader where reader used to work at the mafia, and they dated but reader decided that she didn’t want to be part of the mafia anymore so she leaves the mafia and Mori but later she finds out that she’s pregnant and Mori finds out too later

Bungou Stray Dogs: Mori Ougai x Reader

It was a beautiful sunny day in Yokohama. Not a cloud in the sky. Perfect for the park.

You sit on a bench and watch your daughter play with some of the other children, but mostly alone, in the sun. Enjoying a few moments of peace & quiet.

Moments like these were few and far between.

“I thought you were never going to come back here.”

You felt a cold chill run up your spine at a familiar voice behind you. A big, dark cloud rolling back into your life. “My sister died. I had to come back and settle her affairs.”

“My condolences.” Mori replied. Moving from behind your bench to sitting right beside you. You weren’t sure if that made him more or less dangerous.

“Don’t bother. You never liked her.”

“Condolences have no manner of like or dislike. They are just condolences.” He replied. “Besides. She tried to keep us apart.”

“Don’t blame her. You drove us apart not my sister.”

“We seem to have very different opinion of events. As always.”

To the casual observer, it looked like they were having a calm, polite conversation. No one would be aware of the tension between them. Nor could they be aware of their unique abilities coiled inside each other ready to strike.

It’s funny. There was a time you remember not long ago that you were desperate to be with one another. Now you were just desperate to get away.

“She is mine. Isn’t she.”

It’s a question you were waiting for but hoped you wouldn’t have to answer. “Yes. You don’t seem surprised.”

“The eyes.” Ah, yes. He had you there. You had to look into them every day and be reminded of the man you once loved and left. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You would make me stay.” ‘Make’ was a strong word. Sure, now he would have made you, but at the time he would have just encouraged you to stay. Told you sweet nothings about the life you would have together as a family. Say all the right words to have you keep the baby. And you would have fallen for it, and you would have stayed. “But I didn’t want my child to grow up born a criminal.” There were no innocents in the mafia.

You expected Mori to put up a fight. To argue with you. To yell, to scream, to do something. You never expected him to just get up and prepare to walk away. “I would like to send you money.”

“We don’t need it.” You had a good job doing enhanced ability consolations in the city you were living in. A city which you didn’t want Mori to know.

“Can I meet her?”

“I would rather you didn’t.”

Again, to your surprise, Mori doesn’t put up a fight. “Give me a call the next time you are in town.” Which you both know will be never.

Still, you lie to each other and tell him, “I’ll do that.” Before Mori walked off and disappeared into the crowd.

A few moments later your daughter ran up to you. Red face and a little out of breath. “Who was that momma?!”

“He’s an old friend.”

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

All Your Fault

Next

Author's note: I got the Bully Cato Sicarius Fleas. I've read the fics and they are good. I hope I got his character right.

Warnings: Bullying behavior, verbal bullying, Power Imbalance, Cato's Sparkling Personality. uh let me know if I need to add more.

Summary: You are just a Serf, and one day gain the attention of the Captain of the Second Company of Ultramarines. It's not a good thing. Just what did you do to upset him so?

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @i-am-a-dragon34, @egrets-not-regrets, @gra93fruit-blog

You were born and raised near your family's farm on Calth. You had grown up hearing about the Glory and Wonder of the Imperium and how very Lucky you and the other citizens of Ultramar are to have the protection of the Mighty and Noble Ultramarines. 

You had heard stories of how some of the stronger boys in your farming community were blessed with the chance to become Ultramarines. But that had been a few generations ago when the farming community had a poor harvest and they had to give people as part of the tithe more than finished and raw farming goods. 

You bite your lower lip a little as you continue to pull weeds and tend to the section of the fields You had assigned to you to work on. There has been a bad drought that has made the usually high yield farm rather lacking. You have heard your parents and the local town leaders talking about it. 

With the Tithe Coming within a few short weeks, and a lack of agricultural goods. They had been arguing over who to send as tribute and part of the tithe. As a farming community it was heavily encouraged to have multiple children for a variety of reasons. 

The families with more children got tax breaks and help from the centralized government for Healthcare, child rearing and daycare. As well as cheap, decent quality education and help with feeding and funding Children born and continued growing. You were one of seven children and are among the middle of the pack. 

You are full grown, but due to circumstances still stuck at the family farm, working on it rather than having your own place to live. While volunteers are preferred a lottery was going to be set in place for the whole community to gather and those of a certain age range were going to be the most targeted for the Tithe-ing. 

You are in that age range, you aren't sure if you want to be one of those chosen to go. Whether it is into the Astra Militarum, Chapter Serf, or into a different part of governmental service. If it happens, you will do your duty and say your goodbyes to your loved ones. 

The sinking sensation that you felt proved true five weeks later when your name was called as part of the Tithe to the Imperium. You were just barely able to say goodbye to your siblings. Before you were whisked off to be assessed and put into quarantine with your fellow Calth-ites. After quarantine and skills tested, you were given the uniform of Serf. 

And to your greatest joy and honor. The colors of the Ultramarines, denoting which holy chapter you had been chosen for. You whisper in gratitude to the God Emperor for his mercy and wisdom. You swiftly change into the uniform And follow after those who were chosen and head to the proper disembarkation point. 

One of the higher ranking serfs explaining the rules and consequences for breaking them. As you walk by, you and the rest of the Serfs have to flatten yourselves against the walls when Astartes in Blue and Gold Armor go walking by, you keep your head lowered out of respect, even as you peek at them from the corner of your eye as awe and dread grips your heart. You had only ever heard of the Angels of the Imperium before. And now… you get to serve them, what an honor.

Even if it makes you anxious, one of the Ultramarines brushes past you, he has a stern expression on his stunningly handsome face. You swear you feel his eyes flicker over and stare at you ever so briefly before snapping back in front of him towards where some of his fellow Angels are. 

Once they leave the hallway you and your fellow new Serfs are hurried along to their destination as the Serfs who’ve been there longer and are in charge continue to go over the rules, regulations and consequences of disobedience.

Over the next several months you learn of the complex social and political hierarchy of the Serfs. Or at least, you do your best to do so as it seems a tricky, complicated and almost arcane nature. Far more complex that a simple farm hand turned chapter serf could comprehend at times. Although you did your best to do your duties swiftly, promptly, quietly, and with as little impact on your higher ups as possible.

You are carrying some clothing from one part of the ship to another when you sense movement out of the corner of your eye. You stop and shift out of the way when you spot blue and gold ceramite armor and an Ultramarine Space Marine comes walking over. You dutifully flatten yourself against the nearest wall to give the massive man more room.

The Ultramarine pauses and stares down at you. It was the same one that had briefly looked at you all those months ago when you’d first come aboard the ship as part of a tithe.

“Serf,” He barks at you.

“Yes, Lord?” You say trying not to jump. 

He scowls at you and your heart sinks and you feel like you want to cry. “What the fuck is that accent?”

“I-I am sorry my lord?” You try as you carefully try to enunciate Low Gothic properly. 

One of his eyes twitch and he scowls down at you, “Speak properly or stay silent. Serf.”

You nod, even though you feel hurt, welling up, and confusion. He was the one to start to speak to you. “Yes, Lord.”

“Hrm. Barely better,” Cato sneers down at the country bumpkin now blessed to become a Serf of the Ultramarines.

They have the same fucking accent that, Prissy bastard Captain Ventris gets when he’s talking with his uppity giant bastard of a Sargent Passinius. He’d had yet another disagreement with the Captain of the Fourth Company over tactics and Calgar had barked out orders that the pair of them needed to break it up and cool off before coming back to the meeting.

He had meant to go to the training salles to cool off as he seethed in his wrath when he spotted that one far too pretty looking Serf that had come aboard McCragge’s Honor a few months ago. Not that he had noticed them at all. Or that he’d been, for some reason, tracking them from time to time. Not that he’d sought them out while he was in a temper because of Throne-cursed Ventris.

Their large eyes staring up at him, with tears starting to gather at the corners of their eyes. Tch. Pathetic. Even as something else shifts in his hearts at seeing their emotional reaction to him. He’d hardly said much and they were already acting like he was being a Bastard. So he scowls down at them some more and snarls that they need to be tougher to survive as a Serf serving Astartes.

"Leave," He barks and you bow and scurry off and away from him as you continue to do your duties, trying to figure out what it was that you did to upset the Second Captain of the Ultramarines.

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 29

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 6.1k

IMPORTANT a/n: Hello! She's here....

I suggest reading The Holiday chapter I posted this Christmas, before this one.

I hope you enjoy. HEHEHE

December 1989

Javier’s uncle died very suddenly. 

Escobar didn’t. Javier swears he has spent twenty years of his life in Colombia. Tainted by death, sex and drugs. What is the point of anything when you’ve become desensitized to tragedy? Time slows each time. He can't keep count of how many hours he has spent outside of various buildings just waiting for medics to roll out the victims. Hours he spent, cigarette in hand just talking about what's next while bodies are wheeled away. Days spent in bed with women racking his bills sky high. Just because sometimes he can't come home to a bed empty.

 He had enough, he broke protocol and he knew that the hammer was to come down on him. He knew that the DEA was just as twisted, a fearful institution that only cared about profit. Because if there are no more cartels, there is no more DEA. The only goal was to kill the big man, capo, whatever you may have. Make the Americans proud, we did that. We killed The Drug Pin. But the cartel doesn’t just die with its leader but that's it, to the DEA, the performance is over and it's time to move on. Send them all home, leave the country in shambles. So fuck it, Javier was tired of being congratulated when he just felt like a bad guy. 

He knew the government, his organization, were aware of its corruption. There hadn't been a care. 

The rest of the guys were being reassigned and they asked him to resign quietly. After all he did for them. Bled himself dry. And all it took was for him announcing his disappointment for them to threaten being fired, tarnishing his reputation. 

Or of course, leave quietly and tell his colleagues he was just ready to settle down. 

Escobar and George Peña died on the same day. Javier wasn’t home for 3 days, he missed all the frantic calls from his father. On the third day he was asked to resign quietly. 

He went home, slept and drank. Skipped a session with Dr. Hertz. Ignored the phone calls that came in. Stared at the resignation form on his coffee table. Buried himself in a different cunt each night. 

Until he signed, packed his home and picked up the phone. 

Chucho Peña was one of 2 children. He was the baby, his brother was twelve when he came into the world. It was a rough age gap. They weren't always very close. George was around for the big milestones: Chucho's wedding, Javier’s birth, a few birthdays and there for his brother when his wife left. But mostly, George spent his time in his high rise apartment in Houston. It's where Javier lived for a year at age 15. When he wanted to be a cop, when Chucho took a chance and paid an ungodly amount for The School of Law and Order. 

George had just entered remission. He was diagnosed with melanoma a year prior, it wasn’t life threatening but still scary. Javier made sure he took his medication on time. 

He didn’t, he got sick again, how could he know? 

He finally called home and he was already buried. His father had to do it alone. 

That's when Javier decided to see Dr. Hertz again.

“Will you be continuing sessions back home?” Dr. Hertz had a furrow in her brow since the beginning of the session. Since told her about the resignation, about the death, about how fucking stressful it is to pack. He wonders if she’ll miss him.

“Are you still married?” He uncrosses his legs and ashes his cigarette on the tray next to his seat. Dr. Hertz has dealt with him for nearly three years. She just waves off his flirtation, she calls it a defense mechanism. An attempt to change the topic, ease the waters with something he’s good at. She’s immune to his ways. 

She laughs, “Yes. I am. Will you? Continue, therapy I mean.” 

“Happily?” Javier tilts his head. Dr. Hertz doesn’t entertain him any longer. He chuckles, “Sorry. I’m not sure. I don’t think I want to tell my story all over again to another person. Or professional I guess. Sounds fucking exhausting.” 

She nods, lips in  a fine line like she’s holding back. Javier sighs in annoyance knowing that face well. “Just say it Hertz.”

“Well,” She closes her notebook and he knows he’s in for it. “I think that you have made significant progress in dealing with your past. With your mother, with Andrea, with Lorraine. But life won't stop hurting you just because you worked some things out. And I know you. Very well. I know that the second you go home you’ll be contacting her.”

“Doctor I-”

“Nope. You know that's the truth. You might go home and she might be married, or pregnant or maybe you’ll come home and she’ll want you again. All of those realities come with struggle, and with change, and growth. You are capable, and very emotionally intelligent for a man your age so I’m not saying this to coddle you. But you should continue therapy, in any form. We all need to be heard. I don't care if it's bi-monthly. Or on and off for a few years. If everyone had a therapist we all wouldn’t have such a hard time handling the ups and downs of life.” She crosses her legs and locks eyes with him. “But, do what you believe is best for you. I will miss having you as my patient.”

His eyes fall to his shoes because fuck. “You’re right. I’ll probably need a shrink for the rest of my life simply based on all the dead bodies I've seen before the age of thirty.” He chuckles but she doesn’t reciprocate. She just opens her book again and goes right back into what she does best. Getting him to talk. 

“Talk to me about the resignation.”

“It’s like cancer. This fucked up institution. You know, my uncle George had melanoma at first. There on his skin,” Javier points to his elbow. “On the surface, and yes it made him sick. They removed it, and made him go through that radiation therapy. And the solution was a good one for a few years, but until it wasn’t. He was more susceptible to other cancers and years went by, and it was just everywhere. His blood, his colon. Topical solutions just don’t work like that. The sickness was systemic.” He leans back into his chair, legs spread. He hoped he wasn’t in pain. “Me, Murphy…” He pauses and thinks of the casket. “Carillo… we can’t be the medication. We don’t work. We haven’t worked. I’m aware, and I couldn’t be quiet about it. So whatever, I’ll take their hush money.” It was a lot. He can start working on the house he always said he’d build on the ranch this spring. He could have months of relaxation. Maybe get a degree, something.  “I’m a part of the problem too I guess.”

“You’re human. You deserve to breathe. We worked together for a long time and you still haven’t learned how to give yourself grace”

It was what he needed to hear. She has said it a million times but today it stuck. 

He’ll be home for the holidays.

“Are you in the right headspace to see your mom?”

“Is anyone ever in the right headspace to see their parents?” 

You sit on the floor of your bedroom, folding clothes. Honestly, you haven't spent a Christmas at home in years. You had no intention of heading back to Laredo until spring break. But you heard about the passing of George Peña. You hadn’t known the man but you knew that many of the Peña holidays were spent up at his home. It won’t be that way anymore and you’d love to visit him for this holiday. Bring him a gift, be there for him how he’s been there for you. 

Of course, you’ll go home. Your bedroom has a new bed for guests, so says your mother. You’ll see if maybe she’s interested in spending time with you. You don’t even think you’re going to try. You’re still curious if maybe she will.

Jaya walks to your calendar. “So you’ll be back… January 3rd?”

“Mhm.” You stretch out your leg with a wince. You had the nastiest scrape on your knee from this morning. You knew it’ll dry and crust by the time you get to Texas. 

In a rush to catch the subway today you tripped on the last stair and split right through your tights. You tried not to cry when you settled into the cart with blood trickling down your stocking. 

Jaya, who was already preparing her house sitting duties, placed cream on the scrape. 

She offered to stay at your place while you go back to Texas. Which means liberal use of her spare key to your apartment even before you leave. Crashing at your place after drinks with her boyfriend in your neighborhood. Or just showing up. But hey, she’s your best friend and she’ll be watching your birds for free. 

“I took two extra days off. Mr.Fyre will be covering for me.” You side eye her in anticipation for her questions. She smirks at you with a head shake. 

She rolls over in your bed, “That poor man. His dick still big?” 

You blush, “Yes. Too bad he finishes after ten seconds. Last week he was fucking me right there.” You point to the dresser and Jaya widens her eyes. “And he came the second he put it in. It was kind of hot. He fingered me afterwards so I forgave him.”

Mr. Fyre, Gregory Fyre. The hot new 24 year old substitute that you’ve been sleeping with for two weeks. He came in right after you cut it off with Christian. He walked in that teachers lounge and asked you to stop talking so loudly. The two of you ended up making out in the parking lot. 

He had you there on the dresser, knuckle deep in your cunt. While you tense your stomach and picture another face in front of yours. Gushing on his palms in ten seconds. 

Yeah. You’re fucked. 

At the very least he’s a man who can take a hint. So it’s been fun and easy. Easy to get off and you know, bye, get off now. 

“Your sex life is so interesting. Did he question why you were moaning the name Javier?”

You giggle tossing your panties at her. She catches it and twirls it on her finger before flinging it back at you. “That was one time, many months ago with Christian.” You cringe, “So it does not count.” 

Jaya sits up again, her face changing slightly. Here brows knitting and her eyes scanning the room. The habit of no eye contact that comes before she says something you don’t want to hear. Which happens more than you’d expect. She kept it real. You tilt your head at her gesture. “What if he’s there this time?” 

Brows lifting slightly you look back down at the dress in your lap and you continue to fold. You shrug. “He hasn’t been there every other time so-“

“You would purposely go home on random days of the year. It’s Christmas, Escobar's dead and you told me his uncle just passed.”

You frown at the realization. Washed over with reality. You know he hasn’t come home at all yet, you’re sure his job just doesn’t stop because Escobar is gone. But if it was anytime to visit , it would be now. You don’t respond and just place the dress in the luggage. “Will you be okay to see him?” 

“Yes?” She gives you a crazy glance and you can't even convince yourself.

“No. I don’t know. I'm not like angry at him because somehow his decision was a good one. I feel like… if he asked me to see him that day I would have never left town. Which by the way, has been the best decision ever.” You smiled at her and she smiled back. 

“So there’s no hard feelings.” She says it like it's bad. 

You know exactly why it could be a disaster. It's impossibly difficult to be angry at a person that could die at any moment in their line of work.

She continues to read you like a book. 

“It would be extremely easy to fall back into him when the only emotion you feel is sadness and longing.” You nod because she was always right. It would be so easy. So easy to find comfort in each other. So easy to see him and-“Whatever you do just promise me you won’t forget about your life here.”

You narrow your eyes and extend a pinky to her. 

She leans over the bed and you interlink. Sun peaks through your window and warms the two of you.

It’s the same sun. 

He knows it. 

It's the same. He knows you sit and feel it too. He can see you, looking outside the fire escape of your apartment. The sun offers you warmth in thirty degree weather. He does the same except it isn't so cold. It’s warm all around, hot even. He shares a sun with you and still feels like it's different. He misses you so badly that the thought of being warmed by the same star offers him a comfort beyond comprehension. 

Look where life has taken us. 

Javier is at the steps of the place he called home for a few years. All his belongings already ahead of him, delivered at the footstep of his fathers ranch. 

In less than a day, he’ll be dropped there just the same. Murphy has come to see him before he goes and they’ve been in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Javier clears his throat, afraid to reveal himself. He was an open wound, a live wire. Afraid to come home and not see you. Even more terrified to come home and see you. 

“You tell Connie?” He asks. Murphy sniffles, holding his fists together. 

“That you're leaving?”

Javi nods, “Yeah.”

Murphy exhales, “Yes. She said it was the right choice. Then told me to break the rules so I could come back too.” He laughs a hearty one and Javier follows, rubbing his chin. It was professional, sure, but Steve and Connie became like family during his years. They were older, had their shit together, they were making it work. Connie could read Javi. She was the reason he decided to just go to see someone. “Maybe I should. Olivia can walk now. Can you believe that?”

Javier purses his lips with an exhale. “Jesus.” What he wouldn't give to have a family with you. He’d leave it all, all over again at least. He’d ruin his name, leave in the most dishonorable way if it meant coming back to you and his baby. It's silent again and it's too late. His thoughts betray him. You're all he can think about. You hated the holidays with your family. There was no way you’d choose to just come home now. 

The silence rang loud. Loud enough for Steve to hear his thoughts. 

“You’ve got to talk to that girl. Don’t waste anymore time.”

“She wont want to.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she's stubborn. Because I abandoned her when that's all she knew.”

Murphy shook his head , tapping his knuckle on the step between his legs in frustration and turned to Javi. “But you didn't. You let her go. You needed to. She needed to heal in her own way. You needed help, you fucking got it.” Murphy’s lips twitch. “And listen man, I know we made that pact two years ago. If you go, I go. When it came to therapy, I stopped going to that shit after 2 months.”

Javi’s jaw drops, brows furrowing. He was almost there, on the verge of tears but there Murphy goes. Making him laugh. “What?”

“Yup. And I’ve been lying to you because I saw something in you change-”

“You fucking asshole.”

“You’re fucking welcome Agent Peña.”

Javi scoffs with a chuckle and reaches in his pocket for his pack. “Yeah whatever.” 

“Yeah yeah. If all the stories you told me about that girl are true, there is no way she isn’t waiting for you.” 

“I didn’t wait.” There it is, that guilt he felt for years. The guilt he felt after finding pleasure with others. The stomach churning pain that came with being forehead to forehead, breathless, coming down, and opening his eyes and seeing a face unfamiliar.

Murphy shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it that way. None of that matters.”

A beep has the two flinching. Looking up at the taxi. Javier's heart is suddenly loud enough to ring his ears. The two stand to their feet and hug. Tightly, a brotherly hold he isn;t used to but welcomes. “Sorry If I was ever-”

Murphy shakes his head, “Don't worry about all of that. Make sure you check in on my girls.” They part and Javier nods like it's his duty. “And you know. Be kinder to yourself and just…” He pats his shoulder, “Just reach out to that fucking girl.” Javier feels the pat like a push, like a shove. 

Then he goes on his way, thinking of you like he does.

Melissa Diaz knows that it’s too late and frankly she feels like she’s too old to repair her relationship with her daughter. Each time you come home there's a thick air of discomfort. Like you're a stranger in your childhood home. Each conversation is laced with the unspoken toxicity that is your relationship with your mother. Too many years of hurt just to speak comfortably. 

Which is precisely why you decide to get a hotel room this time around. 

You unpack what you can, glancing at the clock to figure out if you have time to shave before driving to your moms. You promised to help her bring the gifts to Chucho’s house tonight. You had only flown in 5 hours ago. You decided those 5 hours were for your own mental preparation. 

The truth is, when you remove yourself from a toxic environment the second you get back you realize that your tolerance is close to none. So you decide to not only stay away but also give yourself time to brace yourself so you don’t ruin Christmas. 

And this Christmas was different. It was for Don Chucho. You knew that he’ll be over the moon to see you. Thrilled to have the kids running around his house. Javier always said that Chucho would have had 10 children if life hadn’t gotten in the way. He loved the holidays but now that his only family is gone, you knew you had to be here. You had an hour so you scurry to the bathroom and shave, wash the New York off of you and step out a true Texas girl. 

Black sweater dress and stockings rubbing against your split open knee. Chanting, fuck, fucking fuck, fucker, fuck when rolling the thing on. Spritzing yourself in the orange blossom of Night Musk by Prince Matchabelli. Feeling strangely anxious to spend the holidays back home. There was a sense of excitement to see your siblings and niece. Excitement to watch the kids open gifts, yet splitting nerves at the thought of being back on the Peña ranch. 

Excited to drink Coquito, listen to Hector Lavoe, dance and eat. 

You grab your purse, grab the sack containing all the gifts you accumulated for your family over the month and head out to your car. 

You get to your mothers house in fifteen short minutes, not even given time to get into the house and say hello before she’s out on the steps very frantic. Cursing in Spanish about Sol staining her dress. James, not taking anything seriously as always, unloading the Christmas gifts into the trunk of your rental and kissing your cheek welcoming you back home. You hardly had a relationship with your mothers husband, sometimes you wondered how a dynamic like theirs worked. He was a reserved, ultra-relaxed and goofy guy. Your mother, a tornado of frantic emotions and anxiety. It seems he was never phased by all of it. Maybe a part of you envied it. Envied being loved enough to be accepted. 

Your four year old sister seemingly unphased as well by Melissa’s tirade while she’s on her knees at the doorstep wiping ice cream from her red dress. Sol zeroed in on you, waiting for her mother to quit the distressed cleaning so she could run to hug you. Her knees buckling and moving from side to side in anticipation. “Stop all the moving.”

“But it’s my sister!” She whines and you smile at her with arms crossed at the side of your rental. Your mother sighed and let her free. She patters against the driveway in tiny black flats and into your arms.

Disfunction and all, you head to Chucho’s house. Sleigh Ride by The Ronettes ringing loud on the local station. Not a flake on the ground, fifty degree weather, Frankie’s car trailing behind, homes and picket fences littered in green and red.

 Christmas in Laredo was in full swing. 

The moment you notice that Don Chucho’s driveway was full you begin to panic. 

The second you park, Genie crowds your car. Little Annie’s face squished against her mothers shoulder. Asleep already. You hop out of the car and pull her into a hug that stirs the baby. “Sorry!” You whisper, a December breeze causing a rise of hair. Your brother joining in on the hug. 

“Merry Christmas.” He whispers, kissing your cheek and his daughters who stirs again. A little girl, too big to be carried but he grabs her anyway. Spoiled little thing. “All of Chucho’s friends are here already apparently. The whole town is in there.” He laughs and you furrow your brows.

“Amazing.” You deadpan. Of course, what could you expect from a Christmas Eve in your hometown. A place where everybody's family is yours even if they don’t like you. You nod and look around to see if everyone is ready to head in, hoping they weren’t so you could breathe. But when you look up you see James picking up Sol and heading toward the house you knew you were running out of time. Frankie’s gaze is burning and he’s reading your body language like a book. How much has changed between the two of you. It took a marriage and a baby to understand you. You'll take what you can get because when he places his hand on your arm you feel the surge of courage.

Genie comes to your other side and you follow your mothers footsteps. 

Despite the Chucho house being a second home to your family, your mother still knocks. Even when the holiday music is so loud it bleeds through the windows covered in Christmas gel clings. She knocks politely, of course. Then pounds after a few seconds of silence. Making her fiance snort and Sol giggle. 

The door swings open, meeting a smiling Chucho whose eye’s haven't landed on you. “Que bueno! Feliz Navidad.” He brings your mother into a hug, then James, and tickles Sol. His eyes then fall to yours and he takes a step back. His brows furrowed for a moment and you wonder if he knows something you don’t. But then he smiles and pulls you into a hug at the doorway of his home. “Andrea, wow. I’m so– when did you get here?” His hold is tight and he smells like he’s been in the kitchen all day. He smells faintly of Javier. 

A smell you thought you forgot until you were hit so rudely with it. It creates a pit in your stomach that you know you can’t shake. He’s excited you can tell but his body language isn’t what you expected. 

“We're going to settle the girls in.” Frankie holds your shoulder for a moment and your family leaves you in the hall. You hear them in the next room giving excited hellos and cheek kisses. Giving you privacy in a crowded room. Still, with a face of worry, anticipating your response. 

“I flew in this morning. You know it’s the holidays.” Which meant nothing, considering you hadn’t stayed for Christmas in the past two years. You smile weakly, afraid of his reaction. Eyes shifting across your face and he lifts an arm to hold your own. Like he’s bracing you. 

His hat casts a shadow on his face in this dimly lit hallway. Behind his head is that god awful picture of you in your cap and gown. Surrounding it are baby pictures of Javier, Frankie and Genie at their wedding, images of his brother and Javier straight faced in police attire. “I didn’t know you were coming– I was going to call to tell you–”

“Papi, was it fifteen minutes for the artichoke?” 

You and Chucho both snap your heads at him. Your brain short circuiting. Chucho letting out a sigh and you so desperately want to let out a sob. Your chest rises and he’s staring at you with stars in his eyes. Fork in hand, hair overgrown and a Kiss The Cook apron. 

You gaze at Javier Peña after three difficult years. Three years of concern, of healing, of yearning. Of–of, fuck you can’t think. He’s here. He’s here and all you want to do is hug him. Wrap your arms around him and melt into one. 

But he’s there in between the cased opening of the kitchen and the living room. Stealing the attention of your family that havent seen him in just as long. Still, his brows furrow and he takes a step forward. “Andrea.” He doesn’t say it like a question, he says it like it’s been on the tip of his tongue for years. 

“Javi!” Your brother shouts from the living room and runs straight into him. Taking the attention from your body while it floats somewhere unknown. Genie follows, and your mother. Hugging, and kissing and questioning and shoving babies in his face. Still you stare and he looks over his shoulder at you and his father at the doorway. There, you float, unable to feel, zero gravity. Soaring with your feet on the ground and your heart pounds so loud you feel it in your ears. 

Chucho looks back at you. “He came home today too. If I knew-”

You frown, absolutely turning down whatever blame he must be putting on himself. “No-no. Please, it’s okay.” You wonder if other fragile things would like to be treated with less care. You suck in a sharp breath and nod. “I’ll– I just need a moment.” Your jaw clenches trying to prevent your emotions from steam rolling your logic.

Your emotions that tell you to cry and run into his arms. Or your logic that tells you to take a step back to remember the speech you practiced if you ever saw him again. You swallow and look up at him again and turn away. 

Javier watched you open the front door and walk out. His heart sinking, he wanted to fall to his knees and beg you to look at him for just more than three seconds. He tunes out the questions from everyone he loves. He’ll feel bad about it tomorrow. He looks up Genie who noticed his fixation on the front door you just stepped out of and she presses her lips together and tilts her head toward the door. 

Javier takes the olive branch. He just needs to talk to you. Even if you tell him to go fuck yourself or slap him, or spit in his face. He’ll invite it in. Accept it. Accept anything if it’s coming from your dear hands or delicate mouth. You rot him from the inside out, spoiled love for him. He can’t love anyone else. So it’s worth a try. 

He steps away from the chattering circle with a murmur of, one second, and he walks out of the house. 

The brisk December air cools his cheeks instantly. Christmas time is strange. Its the only holiday that has a distinct feeling. A feeling of stress, comfort, and emptiness only served with a red bow and yellow lights. He expects to find you right on the porch but you're at the bottom of the stairs. Arm supporting your elbow while you bite your thumbnail nervously. The string lights on the porch roof illuminating your beautifully made up face, and the tears that came with it. 

Javier stands at the top, afraid to speak. Twirling the stupid fucking fork in his hand. Feeling like an idiot in his outfit. I would have dressed nicer if I knew you’d be here. You look just as beautiful, different, but still. Your natural curls framing your face, black dress high up on your neck and stockings connecting to black boots. Please speak to me. 

You wipe your tears and turn your chin up. Strong girl. Arms crossed, you begin your interrogation, 5 steps between you. “How are you home?” Not a quiver in your voice.

He fights the urge to just ignore your question and run down those stairs and kiss you, wipe your tears, take you away. But he decided to stop being selfish years ago so he answers. “I resigned two weeks ago. I’m back home indefinitely.” He clears his throat. “Forever- I’m back here forever- I mean.” He rasps and you don’t hide your shock. Still you hold composure, eyes gaping a bit but shrinking in an emotion he can't read. Your brows furrow. 

Licking your lips, “Your turn.”

Javier’s brows knit closely, “My turn–?”

“Your turn.” Gesturing for him to continue. “You ask a question.”

“Andrea– can we please-”

“No- This is how I want to do it. So we can fucking get back inside and enjoy Christmas.”

Don’t you know I can't seem to enjoy anything if you aren’t mine? 

“Are you single?” It’s his first question and you scoff. He shrugs, finding no shame. He needs to know now, before he becomes too hopeful. Before he creates a mess because let's be real, if she’s seeing someone, she won't be after this week.

“Yes. Did you really see a therapist in Colombia?”

Javier smirked, pleased to know that you asked about him. Still you don’t crease at his growing smile. So he bites it back because it looks like you want to rip his head off. “Yes. I went every Thursday for almost three years. She’s finding me a new one in our area.”

“She?”  You snap. 

And lord forgive him for how the blood rushed to his dick. All of this felt like the conversation you had in 1986 when he came home. He hopes this Christmas ends with you pinned against his bedroom door and him telling you that he will do anything to make it work. His chin juts in a mocking way, playing with fire. “You jealous?”

Your nostrils flare. “You fuck her?”

“Eh. My turn.” He reminds you of the rules of your own game. You purse your lips and he likes to way they pout. “Are you mad at me for asking you not to come see me after the wedding?” It's the question that haunted him. He begged forgiveness from no one, torturing himself for pushing you away. Hoping you understood his intentions and didn’t see it as an invitation for you to stay away forever. But the more time that past, more days of no calls from you, he feared that maybe he fucked it all up.

Your eyes drop. Allowing the sounds of Christmas bells and chatter fill the wind between you two. 

“I was angry for a brief amount of time. Then I just felt sad for you. Because I know–” There it was, the crack. “I know you were put through so much and you didn’t want me to pick up the pieces. I would have you-” You look up at him, cheeks stained now. And he knows.

“You would have. I couldn’t let that happen again. I was tired of hurting you.”

“My hands are still scarred. I’ll re-open any wound for you.” 

His gums itch and his chin quivers at that. “Do you still feel that way?” He breaks the rules and you don’t seem to care anymore. 

“Of course. It's hard being angry at someone who is so far–who was putting their life on the line of their work. Javi– I’d get so sick from worry-” Fuck it, he takes those steps down to you. Cradling your soft face in his hands, thumbs brushing away tears. You fade into him. “I missed you so much.”

“Andrea, I missed you. None of my colleagues liked me because I was so riddled with grief.” He leans in so close, so close he could see the small freckles that hide in the winter. “I didn’t even want to try to get to know anyone.” He thinks of the faceless women that took him to a climax before they were on their way. Sadistically, he hoped you at least found comfort in someone. 

You close your eyes and he leans in to kiss you. You turn your face, rejecting him but he doesn’t care. He kisses your cheek in earnest and tastes your tears. Planting soft kisses up your cheek.

 “Are you seeing anyone?” 

He pauses his kisses and chuckles. “No.”

“Okay.” Eyes, opening you get on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck. Nails entangling in the back of his hair and he’s in heaven. What a privilege it is to be touched by you. Kissing his cheek yourself. “I won't kiss you.”

He was in heaven, your soft lips nipping at his face and his neck. He groans, “That's okay.” You nod against him. Moving your head to the other side of his face, exposing your neck while you kissed his face. He presses his lips to your neck. 

“I need time…” You moan, “To think.” Your nails scrape the nape of his neck and he’s getting harder each passing second. How the fuck did I end up here? 

“That’s okay– When do you go back– fuck don’t press up on me like that.” Her belly caused a friction in his pants that would definitely spoil the holidays.

“January third– sorry.” You suck on his neck and he groans once more. “Will you sleep with me tonight?”

“Yes.” He says it like it was a no brainer because it was. Whatever mess came with this, he was fully equipped this time. Nothing holding him back. Besides the fact that she lives in fucking New York of course. You pull back from him and he feels the pit in his stomach grow darker and deeper. No, come back, bite me. 

“Not like that. I just want to be in bed with you.” 

He shrugs, he’ll take whatever he can get. “That's okay. My place or–”

“I have a hotel.”

He shakes his head, craning his head to press his lips against your ear. “If we get into that hotel room I’ll have no choice but to fuck you into that mattress.” he whispers but he means every word. He doesn't care if it’s too fragile to be this forward.

“Your place then.” You step away from him and he feels a great loss in his soul. Eyes roving to the door. “We are being suspicious. We should go inside.”

“I’m not hiding anything this time. If you want to use me for this week as a sleeping companion or a fuck toy or I don’t know a mortal enemy I’ll take it and everyone can mind their fucking business.” Javier snaps, he doesn’t care if you're just making an irrational decision because you miss him. He fucking misses you too, if it means two weeks of playing house- so be it.

Dr. Hertz would be so disappointed. 

“Or… Maybe just a friend.” You lie straight through your teeth and he lets you. You straighten your dress and wipe the remaining tears on your cheek and walk right past him. 

“Wasn’t it you that told me that you didn’t know how to be my friend in the winter?”

 It rings out in the air. He can picture it, Christmas eve 1979. You half asleep at The Smithfield’s Christmas party. You had been so jittery and distant. His idiot teenage brain couldn’t comprehend that the love you had for him made you act outside yourself, especially since for the first time ever you watched him show love to another girl. 

Your lips twitch in a smile, seemingly shocked that he remembers just as much as you. 

“Merry Christmas.”

[darling-heffron]

A/N: I AM SO SO SORRY FOR POSTING LATE! Totally my bad, I've just been busy with Christmas coming up but I swear this story will keep going even if its a day late! Hope you enjoy it, let us know what you think x

-Sol ☀️

Taglist: @malarkgirlypop , @mellow-human , @next-autopsy

Chapter Eight: The Rules of Mars

Sam’s POV:

Marleen Finch, the 20 year old from Illinois, was the epitome of why Sam did not pick up stragglers. 

The young woman was open, far too open. In the three days they had been together Sam unfortunately knew every single detail of the blonde girl's life. 

Sam had only shared two facts about herself, her name and her age. Both of which were forced from her by the persistent young blonde. 

The rest of the time Sam had spent with Marleen, the girl had talked about her family, upbringing and everything in between. She now knew why the young woman had gotten herself into so much trouble. Mars was far too trusting, loyal and kind. Traits in the normal world would be seen as civilised and friendly, but now in this new age were concerning and reckless. 

Mars could talk endlessly about anything and everything. Sam didn’t even need to converse back. Mars had the whole conversation covered. 

The overly friendly blonde seemed to be able to push every single one of Sam’s buttons. From the incessant talking, to getting very distracted, not being aware of her surroundings at any stage and prying into the taller blondes life. Sam seemed to be at her wits end, and it was only day three. She still had to make it to the next town and find someone who was stupid enough to agree to taking Mars. 

“I never had a sister. But I can imagine this is what it’s like.” The blonde skipped ahead with a daydreaming smile, “Don’t you think?” She asked as she twirled back to look at Sam. 

“Bambi.” Sam sighed, the name had stuck from their first meeting. Mars was the small wide eyed deer from the children’s movie. Her legs often got away from her, often causing Mars to stumble, trip or fall. Her big doe eyes found Sam with wide eyed innocence, so sweet it made Sam’s teeth hurt. And whenever there was danger afoot, the blonde seemed to get caught in the headlights, just like a deer. 

“What did I say about the skipping?” Sam ignored the initial comment Mars had made. The taller woman had found out the hard way that Marleen’s feelings were easily hurt. 

A few days ago Sam had made the girl cry after Mars had driven her to the point of madness. Samantha exploded at the young lady telling her to, ‘Shut the fuck up!’

The girl immediately burst into tears and sobbed the whole night. The next morning in a hoarse voice from crying Mars gave Sam a whispered apology. She then was in a funk the whole day until Sam had finally accepted her apology and forgiven her. Sending Mars instantly back into the happy go lucky girl she had gotten to know. 

“You said no skipping.” Mars stopped in her tracks huffing. The last time she was skipping she almost broke her ankle in a rabbit burrow. It would have been disastrous and most likely the end of the young woman’s life, as Sam was not that willing to stay with her the whole time her ankle healed. Luckily she got away with minor bruising and whining. 

“The rules are stupid.” Mars grumbled kicking the stones at her feet. 

“You’re more than welcome to leave.” Sam offered for what felt like the millionth time. 

“And leave you all alone. That wouldn’t be nice.” Mars teased as she fell into step next to Sam. 

“That would be the nicest thing you’ve ever done.” Sam mocked gratitude. 

“No, you’d miss me. Cause you love me!” The young blonde sidled up next to her tall companion, giving her a cheeky smile. Sam fought the urge to smile. She didn’t need to give the young girl any more motive to tease her. 

“Uh- what was that?!” The girl squealed in delight. Clearly Sam hadn’t been subtle enough about the smile that fought to tug at her lips. 

“Did you just smile?” Mars leapt in front of the taller woman’s path to look up at her. 

Sam shook her head trying to side step the excited Mars. “No I didn’t.” 

“You did! You did! I saw it! With my own eyes!!” Marleen pitch raised with each word. 

“Volume, Mars.” Sam corrected before the whole forest knew their exact location. 

“I saw you.” Marleen whispered as she finally stepped out of the way of her companion. Mars chuckled to herself, proud of her accomplishment, before tagging along behind her fast moving friend. 

Mars POV:

Marleen didn’t know much about her new companion, she knew her name was Sam, assumingly short for Samantha although not confirmed, she was 23 years old and she was alone. Sam kept telling Mars she preferred to be alone, although the younger woman didn’t believe it. 

She noticed little things about Sam; like how Sam would check up on Marleen when she thought the shorter girl wasn’t paying attention, she’d make sure Mars was still walking in the right direction and without touching, herd her until she was on the correct path. Or how she turned her head ever so slightly when Mars was ranting to show that she was listening- granted, she may not have done it consciously but it still warmed Marleen’s heart. 

The day that Mars was mostly quiet really proved it to her though. After Sam snapped at her, which in turn caused her to spend the night crying, Marleen tried her hardest not to piss the older girl off anymore. 

The simplest way to do that was to apologise and shush. 

And that’s how they spent the entire second day together, in a weird silence. Sam had given Marleen all sorts of looks, starting with glares and eye rolls but slowly they got more concerned. Mars never said anything about these looks but she knew she saw them, microexpressions that spoke louder than Sam ever had. 

Mars had long enough to study Sam(antha?) and wasn’t surprised when she had accepted the apology in her own way- “Would you stop sulking?” Sam had asked her that evening as they settled down for the night. 

“I’m not sulking.” Marleen had tried to be convincing but even she could hear the childlike pout in her mumbled retort. She didn’t mean to act so immature, but being yelled at was not something she was used to and she quickly found out it wasn’t something she liked very much. 

Mars had expected a sarcastic response from Sam, maybe a snarky 'Sure you aren’t' but it never came. Instead the girls sat in a patch of quiet, a nice kind of quiet, the calm kind. 

“Why are you in New York?” The unexpected question had the shorter girl reeling and she froze in disbelief- 'was Sam instigating a conversation with her?' Marleen’s hesitation had turned the calm moment they were sharing into an uncomfortable one. 

“I just-“ Sam sighed, “You talk a lot about going home to Illinois, so why were you in New York when all this happened?” 

“Oh- right! I uh, sorry.” Mars has to find the words, this was the first time Sam had voiced interest in her; she could feel the walls breaking down and it excited her to no end. This was the moment Mars realised they could truly be friends, that Sam cared, even if she acted like she didn’t. It would be hard but Mars would befriend the moody angry woman if it was the last thing she did. 

“I moved to New York last year.” She finally picked the right words, doing everything to keep Sam’s attention. “I was studying at NYU, got a scholarship and everything. I didn’t really want to move away from home, from my family, my two older brothers both work for the family business. I had the biggest FOMO- you do know what that means right?” She asked Sam as she crinkled her brows unsure of what Mars had just blurted out. 

“It’s fear of missing out, F.O.M.O.” Mars didn’t wait to confirm that Sam had understood before she carried on, “Everything seemed to be happening at home, my brother and his wife had their little family, dad was training my second brother to take over the shop. Everyone seemed to have their place. But not me. I mean- I had my place in my family, but uh- ugh, it's hard to explain.” The younger blonde was finding it difficult to articulate what exactly she felt about her family. She loved them of course, she shouldn’t be complaining her family was amazing, the love they all shared was picture perfect. 

So Mars felt like a whiny ungrateful child when she complained about her picturesque family, but there was something that was missing, it made her feel empty and useless- she pushed extra hard trying to make up for this missing piece although nothing seemed to work. 

“It’s ok Mars, you don’t have to explain it to me. I think I understand.” Sam said lightly, Marleen’s head shot up from its position. Firstly the girl had used her actual name and secondly she was being kind. It swirled butterflies in the young blonde’s gut. 

So she continued, “My parents felt as if I wasn’t living up to my potential. And then the scholarship came up and everyone was so proud of me. I knew my parents wanted me to go, but I didn’t even have time to think of what I wanted. I thought maybe this was the thing that would make things right, to be away from home, live my own life. I know that sounds incredibly selfish but I wanted to get away and just- Be!” Mars barely took a breath between sentences, constantly rambling, “I have always been known as a Finch, never Marleen. I’m always Rowan and Brendan’s little sister. Or Desmond and Erin’s daughter.” Mars huffed out, finally pausing long enough for the other woman to speak.

“So, why are you going back then?” Sam enquired as Mars caught her breath. 

“Because, I love them. Yes, I was having some trouble finding myself amongst everyone else but it’s my family. I fit, I have a place.” It seemed like she was trying to convince herself at this point, hammering home the idea of her fitting. 

“I’m their golden child.” Mars wiggled her eyebrows trying to make light of the situation, but the heaviness of her statement weighed on her chest all the same.  

Sam’s lips puckered as she watched the girl intently. 

“What? You don’t think it’s a good thing?” She asked the older of the pair. 

Samantha tilted her head in thought, “I think that’s a lot of pressure.” That was all that she said but the seriousness of her comment slammed into Mars like a tonne of bricks. 

The older girl was right, it was so much pressure. But look at diamonds, they’re formed under pressure. The most beautiful and expensive gem on earth. How is a little pressure bad? At the same time Mars felt as if she was suffocating, like she was forced into the depths of the ocean.

“So that’s why I went to NYU. To ‘find myself’ I guess.” Mars wasn’t so sure now why she took the scholarship. 

“I want to be a reporter. I think.” Mars seemed to be flustered, everything she had convinced herself she wanted so badly seemed to be crumbling at her feet. 

“And you liked it there?” Sam asked gently. 

“Yeah, I have my own little apartment. In a dodgy area, but my neighbours-” Mars choked on her sentence. Here she was venting all of her feelings to Sam, when Denver, the one who had saved her life in the first place was missing, and she was unsure of the predicament he was in. 

Mars swallowed her emotions. “My neighbours are really nice. Well one of them, but um-” She wanted to steer the conversation away from her lost friend. 

“I’m not sure I liked journalism. My mom wanted me to be on tv- a news presenter or something.” Marleen fidgeted with her nails, her stare was locked onto the floor- guilt flooded off her, “But now we won’t know. Cause you know, the end of the world and everything. I just want to get home and make sure they’re all alright.” Mars didn’t want to think of the possibility that things weren’t ok at home. Mars knew her family, they were strong, they would survive this and she would make sure of it by getting home safely.  

“Wow, you must really love your family.” Mars gave Sam a puzzled look. “Well, just- to go across so many states to get back to them.” The older girl clarified. 

“I think I would go to the ends of the earth for my family. I mean, wouldn’t everyone?” Mars looked over to Sam. Her big brown eyes filled with so much love and compassion it made Sam’s heart squeeze. The young girl had only known love and kindness from her kin, she lived a sheltered enough life to believe even if they did you wrong, they still loved you with all their being. 

A sad smile plagued the taller blondes lips, “Yeah, something like that.” She brushed away the mental images of her own parents, “We should get some shut eye.” Sam straightened, “It’s going to be a long walk tomorrow.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The younger of the two spoke softly. Sam had stood from her position so now she stared down at the blonde. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bambi.” Sam tried to lighten the mood, not something she would normally do, so the smile that slid onto her lips felt forced like a grimace. But Mars didn’t seem to care whether or not it looked unnatural on Sam, her own sweet smile, one that could blind, spread onto her face when she realised that Sam had smiled at her on purpose for the first time since they had been together. 

“Sure thing, Sammy!” Mars sprung to her feet, remembering to not grab onto Sam like she would usually do. 

“Don’t call me that.” The older scolded but her tone was far from harsh, Mars would even reach to say it was endearing. 

Sam’s POV

The girl’s had been together for a week, and had fallen into a rhythm. Sam led and Mars followed, without a care in the world. Her near constant chatter had resumed, she told Sam about her siblings and how much she cared for them. Her two overprotective brothers liked to be the only people that were allowed to mess with her. 

Sam listened to her go on and on about how her brothers didn’t play fair in childhood games. Specifically, Brendan- he would always trick her and it wound her up in a way that only siblings can.  

“Ugh, playing ‘Tag’ with him was the woooorst!” Marleen cried out, “He would pretend that our older brother Rowan was ‘it’ when really; it was him! But I would trust him and when he was close enough, he’d tag me and run off! Like- how rude!” 

A lightbulb flickered to life above Sam’s head- she’d have to teach Bambi how to survive or she’d surely be taken advantage of. When another group took Mars in, she’d have to know how to protect herself, who she could trust- how to survive. Sam wouldn't be there to look after the short girl but she could pass on some wisdom before they split up. 

“I probably would’ve been able to tell that he was tricking you - I mean, if I were there, I could’ve warned you.” Sam spoke up for the first time in the conversation. 

“How would you have known? He’s a pretty good liar when he wants to be.” 

“Rules.” 

“Huh?” Marleen’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion only for a second before something Sam had told her earlier reappeared in her head, the rule that Sam was referencing clicked, in tandem both blondes called out, “Sam knows best.”  Maybe Sam’s training was actually rubbing off on Mars.

The pair grew closer as time went on, at least Marleen thought so- being together 24/7 for almost an entire week tended to turn strangers into friends. 

The route Sam had picked out kept them in mostly unpopulated areas, they only ventured into townships when they needed supplies- which was also something Sam was in charge of. Mars just blindly trusted her but she was happy to do so. Sam had kept Marleen alive so far, making sure she was fed, watered and not sleep deprived. 

The pair had only encountered a few undead, steering clear of them was the way to go unless it was unavoidable- then Sam dealt with them while Mars hung back. Sam had a mental note to spend some time teaching the younger girl how to wield her weapon, giving her the confidence to fight if and when she needed to. 

Timing was an issue. There was hardly a right time to stop and teach a combat class when rabids were on the loose. 

Voices broke the comfortable silence the girls had found themselves in. Sam had requested one unbroken hour of quiet time per day so she could keep her sanity intact. 

Sam’s closed fist raised, signalling to her companion to halt all movements- a sign used commonly in the army. However, Mars didn’t have the memo. She kept walking, eyes focused on the ground in front of her, so when she smacked her body directly into the back of Sam’s, it was all the more unexpected. 

“Oof.” The younger blonde let out when she tumbled to the floor, landing in a sitting position. Sam only sighed, she’d have to work on that.  

The voices that had prompted a brief pause in their walking, grew louder and now Mars had picked up on the situation. She quietly got up and crouched next to Sam, mirroring the older girl's stance. 

A group of living people came into view- there were around seven or eight people, men, women and even a child. Mars' heart dropped, she had hoped that Sam had forgotten the pinky promise they had made to each other at the beginning of their journey. Sam had said if she found another group to take Mars she wouldn’t hesitate to send her away. The young blonde chewed nervously on her lip as she watched Sam observe the group. 

The people wandered aimlessly through the forest, they looked gaunt and tired. Her chest became tight, they didn’t look like they were doing well at all. The young child trailed slowly behind them, his feet dragging along the ground. 

“Come on, Jimmy, pick up the pace we need to find shelter before nightfall.” The woman who Mars assumed was his mother, called out. 

“My feet hurt!” Came the whiny reply. Mars chuckled knowing the feeling but was silenced by a single look from Sam. “This sucks!” The child continued complaining in his high pitched tone. 

“Yeah, well too bad! Do you want to die?” The oldest man in the group spoke, quickly swivelling around from his position in front. Jimmy froze, tears welling in his eyes before he started to sob. 

“Graham!” The mother scolded before walking over to the young boy who clutched himself into a hug. She scooped the child into her arms and squeezed him tight, “Shhhh, don’t listen to him. He’s just grumpy cause he's tired.” 

The group walked on, completely unaware that they were being watched and soon they were out of the blonde duo's sight. 

Mars wanted to speak up and ask Sam why she had just let them go past without talking to them, she truly thought this would’ve split them up and Sam would be on her way. 

Yet, the shorter woman hesitated; maybe Sam had forgotten? It’s very possible it slipped her mind and Mars didn't want to remind her. 

They waited until the fading voices of the group were nonexistent, gone entirely, then Sam stood to her full height and kept walking like nothing happened. 

Not wanting to be left behind, Mars copied her companion, jogging to catch up with the fast paced woman. 

“You missed your opportunity.” Marleen whispered, they had been quiet for so long it was odd to speak again. 

Sam’s eyes never left where she was walking. “They seemed like they had enough problems without you.” 

That was all she said before they fell back into silence. 

An hour passed, maybe two; Mars had kept quiet - very unlike herself, the only thing that could be heard was the footsteps of the two women. 

“You going to ask or are you just going to keep quiet and wonder?” Sam spoke up, she stopped moving and turned to the younger. 

“Uh-“ For probably the first time ever, Mars was speechless. Of course she wanted to know but some irrational part of her thought that if she said the wrong thing, Sam might leave her here. In the woods. By herself. 

“You want to know the reason I didn’t leave you with that group, don’t you?” The words were taken out of Marleen’s mouth and all she could do was nod blankly at the older woman. 

“That group isn’t going to last long. They were most likely low on food and water, if I left you with them you’d all be dead within a week.” Sam didn’t leave room for arguments, “I promised to find you a group or person who could take you- they couldn’t.” 

The grin that crept onto Marleen’s face was astronomical. 

“I knew you liked me.” Mars told her friend, ignoring Sam’s eye roll at her comment and stepping ahead to resume their path. 

“Yeah, whatever Bambi.” 

A/N: Personally I love these girls and their black cat/golden retriever dynamic!!

-Sol ☀️

[bittersweet-kelly]

The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe Malfunction

Summery: You and Henry had been dating for a few awhile now. Both of you had been invited to his friend's costume themed birthday party. Which you mistook for an early Halloween party. While dancing with Henry, you hear something ripping.

Rating: Explict. 18+. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, size kink, big cock, big balls, hyperspermia, crying, alcohol, descriptive sex, spanking, biting, bulges, alcohol, unprotected sex (Wrap it up), spit, pet names, name calling, female c-word, ripping of clothes, pop culture references.

Word Count: 3,462 (Sorry)

Disclaimer: I do not own Henry or have any connections to Henry. This story was made by me and my own filthy mind from the wanting of henry to ruin me in more ways than one. This is my first fanfiction that I've written and published. I'm usually a role-player on MMOs and online games. Although my first language is English, I have dyslexia so expect grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes and sometimes sentences that could seem confusing. Not beta'd or proof read. Header made by me using pictures on the internet.

*****

Why, oh, why have you left it to the last minute to try and find a costume for a party you’ve known about for at least two weeks! You spent all day looking around town for something to wear. It’s Halloween how hard could it be to find a costume? As you found out, unless you fit in children's costumes... It was very hard. Heading home you finally remembered you had costumes back from your time in college. 

Rummaging at the back of your closet you fished out a plastic storage box that was rammed with old costumes you wore during your party days. Pulling out the costumes. A flapper, a sexy nurse, a sexy nun. Scoffing at your younger self for the costume choices. You sat on the floor humming and ahhing trying to figure out what to wear. Your thought process was interrupted when your phone buzzed. Reaching for your phone a smile forms across your lips as you read the name that popped up. Opening the message, it reads 

‘Hey baby, can’t wait to see you tonight. 🦁’ Seeing his messages always send your butterflies fluttering. You sat there for a good minute holding the phone to your chest. As the feeling fades and your mind comes crashing back down to reality your face is left with a furrowed brow. Looking back at your phone you typed a message back. 

‘Can’t wait to see you Hen-bear. What you wearing tonight??!’ You waited for an answer that would never arrive. Shrugging your shoulders, you grabbed the Witch outfit. It was Halloween after all, can never go wrong with a Witch. 

After showering and getting yourself ready you get a call from Henry. 

“Hey [your f/n], car will be picking you up in about 10 minutes. Then it will come to mine and we’ll arrive together. See you in a bit, baby." He finished his sentence with a roar, which made you chuckle slightly albeit slightly confused and taken back by it. 

“Okay see you then sweetie." The call ended, and you had 10 minutes to make sure you looked good and presentable. Standing in front of the mirror you look over yourself. Making sure the make-up was right and not too clowny. You wanted to look good after all. Your main concern was the outfit that was a couple of years old... It fitted okay when you were standing still and breathing in slightly... In the years since putting on the witch costume you’d become more of a woman to love. You weren’t fat by any means, but your body was softer and there was more to grab. The black lace and crushed velvet dress hugged your body in all the right places, looking more like Morticia, from the Addams family, than the wicked witch of the west. 

Hearing the car pull up, you make a quick dash for your small handbag. “Housekeys? Check. Lipstick? Check. Aaannndddd... Phone. Three for three.” You gave yourself a small victory cheer before shutting the door and getting in the car. While sitting in the car you do the most English thing anyone does in a taxi or an Uber. “Are you having a nice evening? On for long? Have you got many jobs after this one?" You and the driver small talked for about 30 minutes by the time it took you to get to Henry’s place. While Henry walked down the driver to the car, you were able to ogle at him. He wore a crocheted lion hat that had a tasselled mane that came down to his broad shoulders. A tight Muscletech tee that hugged his muscular frame. The tee looked stretched over his bloated biceps and stuck tightly to his pecs, almost giving the illusion of support. Could his shorts be any shorter, you thought to yourself. A slutty 4-inch seam on the inside showing off his powerful legs. 

As he got in the car, he filled most of the back seat with his mass and might. His legs spread out in different area-codes. “Hey babe." He leaned over pressing his lips to your cheek for a quick kiss before putting his seat belt on. “Looking great." He winked at you, making your toes curl and your fanny to flutter. He then spoke in the voice he uses for when he’s being Geralt of Rivia. “Hmm. Fuck. I do like sorceresses." He then laughed, lightly slapping his massive hand down on your thigh to comfort you. Either your face must have been embarrassed or looking like you’ll pounce on him in the car. Not that the two of you have fooled around in a car before... 

“What’s with the costume?" You ask him, casting your eyes over him once more. Taking in all the mountain of man beside you. Your eyes fell on the large mound at his crotch. Henry was a big guy all over, and sometimes had a hard time hiding his bulge. You quickly butt in before he answers your first question. “Shorts so short, your boxer briefs are sticking out passed them." You chuckle, playfully nudging him with a hand of yours only for said hand to be engulfed by his mitts as he held yours. Using his thumb to stroke over the back of your soft hands. 

“First of all... I’m a football mascot for England. One of the three Lions." With his free hand he pointed to the Lion hat. “Lion. And football gear." Using his index finger and thumb he plucked at the tight fabric, letting it snap back into place against his body. “Secondly... I’m not wearing boxer briefs. Just briefs... Which." He looked at you with a knowing look. “There’s a lot to fit in them. Can’t wait to take them off." With the same breath he leaned into you again to whisper. “I hope you’re not wearing –any-.” Feeling his stubble tickle the side of your face made you squirm in your seat. The warmth of his breath in your ear. Heavens. You sat there hoping you hadn’t left a wet spot on the seat. Henry’s wish wouldn’t have been hard as you didn’t wear any. The undies you had created the line around your waist and butt cheeks. 

“I didn’t realize football mascots were for Halloween.” You smirked over at him, your eyes drinking in the sight of your lover. Henry’s eyes widened in realization. 

“Fuck!” He threw his head back into the headrest and covered his eyes with his free hand. “I forgot to tell you... It’s not a Halloween party. Derek’s Birthday is close to Halloween and he’s ended up hating it. So when he has a party, it’s things other than Halloween." You started to panic. The last thing you wanted to do was to look out of place. It would be like the scene in Mean Girls where Lindsay Lohan turns up as a ghoul and everyone else looks hot. Cavill laughed to put your mind at ease. “Just say you’re Morticia. That’s from a movie, doesn’t need to be Halloween." He let go of your hand and slipped it behind the small of your back to hold you from a seat away.

Once the both of you get to the location of the party, you toss aside the witches hat you were going to wear. Aren’t a witch no more! Joined at Henry’s hip, due to his hand on your ass, the two of you do the rounds greeting the people and his friends. Usually, your head came to Henry’s chest, something you loved; those furry pillows to rest your head against when he was shirtless. With the heels you wore, you came up to his shoulder. Admittedly both of you liked the size difference. 

After a while you let Henry do his thing. You’ve met his friends a few times, but you weren’t in with the crowd. You find yourself at the bar, just chit chatting to the other girlfriends, all while doing shots and drinking vodka lemonades. Henry comes up to the bar to get a refill on his pint of lager, stealing a kiss every time. Which makes everyone ‘aww’ and giggle at you. 

As the night continued and the more drunk you got, the music started to sound better and better. Plus the kids had all gone to bed, so the real dance floor fillers were coming on. Being drunk enough you wandered on over to Henry when he was speaking to his friends. You grabbed his hand and another gripped his bicep. “’Cuse me, I’m going to steal my boyfriend." Playfully you tugged on Henry’s arm. “I wanna dance with you." You felt Henry’s disapproval. Henry never danced unless he was getting paid to and had choreographed the dance beforehand like his fight scenes. “Please?" You begged, looking up and him with doe eyes. Pleading to him. He scoffed. 

“Fine." He groaned. “But on the way home we’re stopping off for a kebab!" Both of you laughed while making your way over to the floor where people were dancing. Henry mostly stood on the spot, tapping a foot on the ground and throwing a hand up in the air to pump it. Sensing his awkwardness you grabbed both of his hands and then began to dance with him... For him. Feeling flirty, your hands trailed along his torso, every now and then groping his pec muscles to give them a squeeze. It’s only fair, he comes up behind you and reaches around and puts his hands all over yours. Your hands glide down his torso while you lower yourself in front of him, your face now greeting by his crotch as you were crouched in front of him. He simply shook his head while chuckling at your antics. To stand back up, you slowly rose pushing your hips back to make your ass stick out. You then turn around to have your back to him. With your back resting against his front, you slide down his body until you’re crouching again, you turn your head to the side to be knocked by Henry’s bulge in his shorts. How his shorts managed to hold back the mammoth of a cock he had between his legs was a miracle. The fabric was stronger than your mental health. 

You hummed with a smirk across your lips while looking up at him. His eyes filled with lust. If you weren’t surrounded by people, he could have pulled his cock out to slap it against your face. You felt a hand grip your armpit and with his assistance you were standing up straight. “I love how big you are." You whispered loudly due to the music, all while chewing on your bottom lip. 

“I’m glad I wore underwear, otherwise my cock would be sticking out of the bottom of my shorts. And you’ll have to deal with the consequences.” He stared you down; unsure if he was angry with you or trying to keep cool. You shrugged his grip off; you were too drunk to really care about the consequences. Turning back around to face him. The song then called for a ‘drop low’ which you were more than happy to oblige to. Hoping your knees wouldn’t give out as you quickly dropped to the floor in the sophisticated dance move called the ‘Slut Drop’. Over the music you heard this loud ripping noise. Shooting straight back up to stand, your hands reached around behind your back. 

" I think my dress ripped. How bad is it?" You asked Henry to look. He shook his head while laughing. 

“That’s karma." His eyes then fell onto your rather large split. “...”His eyes widened. “It’s barely noticeable." His voice raised an octave. You knew he was lying and it must have been bad! In a panic you rushed off to the toilets, luckily this place had individual unisex toilets that the door could be locked. Once inside you look in the mirror, having your back facing it and your head peering over your shoulder. Henry’s words rung in your ears. ‘It’s barely noticeable...’Your bare ass was on show!!! You cursed yourself! Why did you go to commando? Foolish! The rip started at the midpoint of your lower back and went down all the way to your thighs. Someone tried to open the door. “Honey you in here?" Henry asked. You unlocked the door only to swing it open. Grabbing Henry with both hands to pull him in with you; only to relock it. 

“It’s barely noticeable?! BARELY?!” You confronted him. Henry raised his hands defensively. 

“It’s dark out there... Plus I had strobe lights in my eyes." He deflected. “And here’s you thinking my shorts would be the ones to rip." He tilted his head back to laugh. While you stood at the mirror trying to see how you could salvage the outfit. While your ass was out in the open Henry took the opportunity to slap his hand against your cheek. Leaving a red handprint on it. You let out a yelp as it stung and took you by surprise. "I should sign it like the Walk of Fame." He moved to stand behind you, his hands now on your hips. His grip pulled your hips back so the top of your ass was pressed against his crotch. “Think you can tease me in front of my friends?" He growled in your ear. “Should have fucked you there and then on the floor. Show everyone how much of a slut you are for me.” He lowered his head, feeling his breath against the nape of your neck. “Show ‘em how well you take my big cock.” His stubble rubbed against your soft skin before feeling his lips press against your skin in lust filled kisses. 

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his touch and kisses. His words made your legs go weak. You felt Henry’s mouth at the beginning of the rip, his lips peppering your skin. His beard tickled against your lower back which sent shivers up your spin. Just as you were in the moment of heaven you felt Henry sink his teeth into your butt cheek. You turned your head over your shoulder to look down at him, you playfully swatted at his head. “Oi." Henry looked up at you with a smirk, his hands reaching for the rip and extending it, so it reached the end hem of the dress making it one big split in the back. He stood back up, his hands on your shoulders to force you to lean over the sink. Using a foot, he kicked your legs to spread them further. His hand moved to his face, licking his three middle fingers to get them wet. You soon felt his fingers rubbing against your labia and his middle finger dipping inside of you. His finger felt so good inside of you. When you first started dating, one finger was enough to send you over the edge. Now you’re more accustomed to Henry and his size, you’ve upgraded to 2 fingers. 

Henry laughed. “Someone’s eager. Fucking wet already." He brought his hand up to his mouth to taste you. He hummed. “If only my cock wasn’t begging for a release, could eat you out. But someone wanted to tease the kraken." Keeping one hand on your shoulder to keep you in place, leaning over the sink. Your hands gripping the sides of the basin. His free hand wiggled his shorts and briefs down far enough for his cock to spring forth. Due to the size and weight of it, even when Henry was hard his cock fought a hard game with gravity, making his member bow down to the ground. His hand gripped his cock at the base of his shaft, his little finger sinking into his ball sac, to position himself. At first he glided his cock between your lower lips, getting his dick all greased up using your juices. Soon you felt his tip push against your body. You look back at Henry in shock. 

“We usually use lube." You pointed out to Henry. “You’ve never gone in dry before." Henry raised the left side of his brow at you. 

“With how wet you are, there’s nothing dry here.” He retorted only to pull his hips back to see his own cock. He drew spit from his mouth to aim it at his member, then used a hand to massage the spit into the head of his cock. Realigning his cock with your pussy, his hand and hips aided his dick to enter. Both of you let out a moan as your body finally accepted his appendage. “You feel great." He reassured you. The hand that helped his cock moved to join his other hand around your waist. His thumbs dig into the dimples on your back. Slowly he begins to grind his hips back in forth, allowing you to adjust to his size. Doesn’t matter how many times you have sex, he always felt huge and your felt tight to him. 

Sensual moans escaped your mouth, you were trying to be quiet knowing you were in a bathroom and on the other side of the door there were people who could listen. “Your cock is huge." Henry chuckled at your quip. His grind turned evolved more into a thrust. Forcing more of his fat inches into your body. 

“Get ready." Henry warned you as his thrusts become stronger and faster, feeding your body more of his member. His balls swung back and forth slapping at your labia, and clit while swinging back to hit his thighs as his hip crashed into the cushions of your ass. With ever thrust you felt yourself colliding with the ceramics of the sink. Moving your hands from the basin you reached out and planted your palms against the mirror. Your moans got louder and more uncontrollable. “That’s it...” He growled into your ear. “Make everyone hear you being fucked by me.” With every forceful move of his, you felt your legs get weaker at the knees and joints. You feel his hands move from the sides of your hips to the front, giving you support. All your weight was lifted by his strength. Your feet dangled in the air, even with heels on. Henry was lost in lust. Your moans and cries did nothing but spear him on. His cock acted as a piston, steaming in and out of your stretched cunt. You were at the mercy of him, nothing but a toy for his cock to erupt in.  

You felt tears roll down your cheek as Henry ploughed into you from behind. His grunts echoed around the room, along with your moans. Your body felt a mixture of pleasure and pain. His cock was scratching at all your points due to its size, driving you crazy. The girth stretched out your velvet tunnel while the length of it always pressed against your cervix. You often thank the gods for making you hardy. With how powerful his thrusts were, the tip of his cock slammed and knocked against your cervix, causing you pain and the reason why your face was wet with tears. 

Henry’s grip around your waist tightened and you felt his fingers dig deeper into your skin. With one more forceful slam, his hips buried his cock deep inside of you. Your pussy felt his cock throb, pushing against your already stretched walls. He tilted his head back while his cock unloaded its load. At first it oozed out before gaining momentum and shooting forth a powerful shot. It felt like minutes for Henry, standing in bliss while his balls unloaded his cum deep inside of you. He cummed a lot. Which made sense with the size of his family jewels. You swore it felt like he made you bloated whenever he came. As his climax weakened, as did he. Letting go of your hips, his torso laid on top of yours. “...Fuck.” He huffed out, only for his cock to slip out, while it softened, from your gaping pussy. 

He stepped back, looking down at you while you flopped over the sink with your Bambi legs. His semen seeped out of your body, dripping down your thighs. “Let's get you home and in bed.” Stuffing his cock back into his briefs and shorts. At least now he fitted inside them a bit better after blowing off some steam. He picked you up, as you weighed nothing to him, carrying you in the bridal carry. He unlocked the door and stepped out. Naturally there were people standing close to the door. “She had a moment." Henry confessed before walking out of the building and putting you in a taxi to take you home.

[the-matpat-ever]

Evie & Casey Smith [ My Anna Prosser & NWTB Egos ]

*Side note* I am still in the process of fleshing them out so some things may be subjected to change and be inconsistent!!

About them~

Evie and Casey go back all the way to the 1800s where they had recently gotten married in a small rural village during the winter. The two were absolutely smitten with each other, anyone with eyes could see that. Things quickly had taken a turn for the worst when a lone, hungry vampire takes the life of Evie Smith, putting the blame onto Casey when he finds her pale lifeless body in the snow. Since Evie was absolutely beloved, always making people laugh and helping around the town, the village turns on Casey. He is brutally executed by the few people who led the village and made all the town's decisions.

Since this happens in only a few hours, Evie awakens in a nailed coffin which she tore apart quite quickly. The village had decided to execute Casey before giving her a proper burial because they had thought that Evie's killer must die before she could rest. Evie is terrified and confused when she awakens, all she remembered was going outside to take a stroll before her vision went dark.

Fun fact! Vampires are super territorial not only where they sleep but also around people too. Particularly, people that they call family, which could be close friends, spouses/partners, relatives, even animals that they consider pets. If one of them is hurt or killed...you better pray to whatever God you believe in that you aren't responsible for it, or get in their way. As expected Evie goes on a murderous rampage when she finds her husband lying in a pool of his own blood. They didn't bother to clean up yet or dispose of his body(they thought he didnt deserve a proper burial). She murdered the entire village, and I mean the entire village. No survivors.

Evie still feels guilty to this day about it, but not entirely. She only feels guilty about the children that had perished from her. She kept Casey's wedding band, always wearing both rings on her left ring finger. She gets them polished after every few decades. Her ghost hunting crew, which she calls family consists of her brother, and a few other egos that I'm also in the process of making(PLEASE SEND HELP/J).

The sun doesnt kill her but she has to wear 100 SPF and apply multiple layers so she doesn't burn because she's so pale. Since she's so pale she usually wears makeup to cover up the inhuman sickly look to her. ALSO when Vampires turn, their appearance doesn't change at all. They aren't inhumanly beautiful, they are average looking people. The parasitic species had evolved so that they are able to blend in with the people around them easily, which means: Retractable fangs and claws!!

Casey on the other hand wakes up a few years later, stuck in limbo for a while before his soul was released onto earth again. He was executed in a church, them thinking he was the devil. He wasn't very liked by the villagers, even before his untimely death. While traditionally, ghosts and spirits usually haunt a specific place or object, Casey doesn't. He just wanders around aimlessly, suffering silently(Onlookers sometimes will spot a strange victorian looking man walking on the side of the road). He is drawn to warm and cozy spaces because of how cold he always is, how empty he feels, but he stays away from people. He's grown bitter as centuries passed. While he is bitter and not a people person, he is not the one to disrespect women or children. He is quite the gentlemen actually, just don't bother him and you're good.

PS~ I'm just making it up as I go, some things are just not going to be historically accurate

@stretch-time

[cozyfoxy]

The Brackenwood Murders Chapter 1

Summary: After nine murders of gay men in Brackenwood, detective Phil Lester is called in at last to help them catch the killer. Dan Howell is always eager to get a scoop for his blog, so he is often in Phil's way. What has the potential to be an easy enough case proves to be much more in depth than Phil expects, especially when feelings come into the equation.

Chapter Two

Read on AO3

“The small town of Brackenwood was shaken this Friday evening when four children stumbled upon a dead body near Juniper Park. The four children, between the ages of eight and eleven, were riding their bikes when one of them spotted what they thought to be a lost shoe sticking out from under the brush, near the walking trail. When the children went to investigate, they realized that there was someone wearing the shoe and ran to find their parents. The police were quickly notified and are currently investigating.

“The body was identified as that of local Jace Pickens, aged nineteen. Jace was born and raised in Brackenwood and was a very active member of our community. Between his studies to become a high school professor and his part-time job at his father’s hardware store (Picken’s Hardware), he also found the time to volunteer at the local Baptist church every Saturday and Sunday, working with children who needed a little extra love. At the bottom of this post, you will find a link to Jace’s obituary. There, you can donate to the Picken’s family, offer condolences, or send flowers.

This is the ninth murder of local gay men in the past six years. All murders have been nearly identical in date, method, and victim type, though the local sheriff continues to ignore the possibility of a serial killer. However, it has been confirmed that for the first time ever in Brackenwood history, an outside source has been brought in to help investigate the murder. A renowned detective who is most well known for solving the string of murderers in Crumbleford all on his own is coming to our small town in the next few days. It’s wonderful to see these murders finally being taken seriously."

Currently, the police are trying to pin the murder on Logan Schmidt, aged twenty, Jace Picken’s longtime partner. Schmidt has alibis, as he was three towns over at his college campus, but they still want to pin it on him. It seems as though the police of Brackenwood want to get rid of the case rather than actually solve it. After six years and nine murders, they’re clearly anxious to have someone to blame besides themselves. Perhaps now that they have an actual detective, they will get off of their lazy, homophobic asses and do something to protect the community here. Follow for real-time updates, and until then, please stay safe out there. It’s just barely October now, and the Brackenwood killer could strike again.”

Chief Brewer groaned loudly and slammed his fist against his desk, sending a few stray papers flying. This journalist, blogger, whatever anyone wanted to call him, always got under the man’s skin. Not only did the author of the post always know more about their investigations than he should, he also had a bad habit of bringing his own views into his posts. Whether Cheif Brewer liked it or not, the blog was quite popular in their town, and everything posted on it would spread like wildfire.

A soft cough from his open door grabbed his attention from his wallowing. He looked up to see a smart-looking man, dressed in a navy blue suit. The man wore glasses that perched carefully on the bridge of his nose and held a dark brown briefcase in his right hand and a slightly damp umbrella in his other hand. Ah, Phil Lester was here at last.

“Detective Lester! Please come in and shut the door behind you if you don’t mind.” Chief Brewer exclaimed, jumping up to shake the man’s hand.

Phil smiled in silent thanks and stepped in, shutting the door carefully before shaking the balding man’s hand. He quickly realized that Chief Brewer was overly tired; deep purple bags were prominent beneath his eyes and coffee in his breath. Phil released the older man’s hand and took a seat, eager to get started on his new case.

“Alright Chief, I’d like to ask you some questions before I start my investigation. Mostly about what you have already figured out, but also just about the town and its people. I grew up just a few towns over, but I haven’t been up this way in years.” Phil explained, crossing his long legs after making himself comfortable.

Brewer cleared his throat and nodded, taking a seat at his desk across from Phil. “Of course, detective Lester, ask anything you need. We want to get this all taken care of as soon as we possibly can.”

“Please call me Phil. Formalities aren’t really my thing. Yes, I’m sure you do, but we can’t rush too much. This is a complicated case, and it has been going on for years based on my own research and understanding. My first question is, of course, why you neglected to call an outside source in for so long.” Phil asked, resting his chin against his fist.

Brewer flinched back slightly at Phil’s nonchalant tone, the back of his neck burning. He didn’t like being scrutinized. “Yes, of course, Phil. Well, we didn’t see it as something that needed help from an outside source. Most years, it was one murder, and that one murder would be the only one in Brackenwood for that year. Not much happens here, you know?”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “So, though each murder happened around the same time every year, with the same victim profile and the same murder method, you didn’t think it was a problem that needed help? The bodies are always found around the same vecinity too, Brewer. The men were raped before they were killed, but it wasn’t a serious problem.”

"Listen, Phil, no disrespect, but this is a small town. We try not to scare our residents unless there’s good reason to. It wasn’t until Jace Pickens was killed and found by some of our children that I accepted that we needed help. We don’t have many leads; whoever this killer is knows how to avoid being found.” Brewer explained, anger tightening his voice.

Phil nodded and ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair. “Okay, so I need any leads that you already have. Including a list of people who you have ruled out. Are there any significances that you know of for the dates of the murders? Do you have a profile of your murderer?”

“We do have a profile, yes, but I will be the first to say that it’s not very well put together yet. We believe the murderer is a male in his late twenties or early thirties. He is a local; that much is clear. He would have to be to avoid us for so long. One thing that my team doesn’t agree with is that he’s got an accomplice. I don’t think he works alone.” Brewer explained, opening a worn-down-looking folder, overflowing with papers.

Phil hummed, leaning forward eagerly, “Why do you think he’s not working alone? And you never answered my question. Is there any significance with the dates?”

Brewer pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to Phil, “Because the murders are all almost identical. The keyword being almost. The murder weapon is almost always a blunt object; my team thinks it could be a metal bat. But three of the murders were just different enough. On these three bodies, there were larger bruises. Bruises that were consistent with someone being beaten by fists. I can’t say for sure that it was two people against one, but I do have a hunch that just won’t go away.”

Phil took the paper that was given to him, looking at it curiously before looking back at the older man in front of him and asking, "What’s this?”

“That’s a list of important dates in this town for the homosexual community, specifically in October. I can’t take credit for it, it was written up by a local journalist of sorts. We normally don’t take him too seriously, but at times his posts are helpful.” Brewer explained, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket.

Phil nodded and smiled calmly. “Have you considered him a suspect yet?”

Brewer paused before shaking his head, “No. We don’t even know who he is; he uses a fake name and has strong security measures in place. We’ve tried to get into his computer system, but it didn’t work.”

“Interesting. I will surely be looking into that. One last question for now, and then I’ll be on my way. While I solve the case, what safety measures do you plan on implementing?” Phil asked, focusing intensely on the man in front of him.

Brewer stuttered, “Well, we have talked about setting up a curfew. We’ve already advised any gay men to stay inside and avoid any of their... activities.”

Phil cleared his throat softly. “First things first, I’m appearing on the local news station tonight to explain what my presence means and what we are doing to protect not only the gay men of Brackenwood, but their families as well. You’ve been in this line of work much longer than myself, you should know that pressure can make a criminal act out. This murderer might be frightened by me and act out. Everyone could be in danger. We’ll set up a curfew; everyone must travel in groups, and we’ll have your deputies stationed around Juniper Park at all times. But that won’t be public information. That’s all I’ll need from you for now.”

“Yes, um, thank you, Phil. I just hope this will be over with sooner rather than later.” Brewer said, standing up and shaking Phil’s hand one more time before Phil left the room, writing a note messily in his notebook.

“Brewer doesn’t care about the men dying; he just cares about the image of his town.” ~ Dan was sitting in his desk chair, typing eagerly, when a soft knock on his bedroom door startled him. “Come in!” He called out, not pausing his typing.

PJ walked in, closing the door behind him. “The news is going to be interviewing detective Lester down at the park. Wanna go down and watch?”

"Yeah, mate, I wanted to go anyways. We can get food after.” Dan suggested, saving his document before closing his laptop.

PJ chuckled, “Sounds good. Our readers will be expecting an update soon, so we need all of the information that we can get. Have you gotten anything out of Levi?”

“Not really. He’s been a little distant lately. Chief Brewer has been putting a ton of pressure on everyone to solve the case. Nice to know he finally cares.” Dan chuckled, pulling on his favorite Halloween jumper, a cat with ‘Boo!’ written above it.

Dan’s best friend rolled his eyes. “We both know that he doesn’t care. If he did, then maybe Liam wouldn’t be dead.”

The brunette tensed and looked down at his feet at the mention of Liam’s name. Liam was the third victim of the Brackenwood killer. Liam was also Dan’s first and only boyfriend, the first guy that ever stole his heart. The only guy that ever made Dan drop his walls and fall without fear. Dan hadn’t felt love since the night that Liam’s cold body was found, his lover’s mouth still open in a silent scream. Dan couldn’t help but think that Liam was screaming for him, but he wasn’t around. He was out getting high, just like he had promised Liam he wasn’t going to do.

“Hey, hey Dan. I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that, I just... I fucking miss him too, mate. If Brewer wasn’t such a piece of shit, then he would’ve caught the killer after the first murder. Dan, I’m sorry. Hey, don’t do that; you’ll hurt yourself.” PJ rambled, quickly pinning Dan’s arms to his sides when Dan began to bite his pointer finger.

Dan took a deep breath and looked at PJ with an emotionless expression, “I’m not mad at you. Let’s just go; we can be the first journalists to post about Lester’s plan.”

PJ watched Dan carefully before releasing his grip on him, backing away. “Yeah, that sounds great. But tomorrow, we’re both taking it easy. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on.” Dan mumbled, walking past his best friend with a huff.

PJ closed his eyes for a silent moment and sighed. This time of year was always hard on them both, but this year seemed to be even more so for Dan. PJ couldn’t wrap his head around it, but Dan was angerier, more distant, and crying more. PJ could hear him sobbing at night, but he didn’t dare bother him about it; Dan would just deny it anyway. He walked to Dan’s desk, feeling his heart swell in his chest at the old photo of the three of them laughing while carving pumpkins together.

“Are you coming, Peej? Or should I leave without you?” Dan called from downstairs; the sound of jingling keys and an opening door filled PJ’s ears.

PJ rolled his eyes. “Oi, calm your ass down! I’m coming!” He yelled before rushing down the stairs, “You have no fucking patience, Dan? What’s wrong?”

In front of him, Dan was shaking violently, much like the day that Liam’s body was found. PJ felt sick to his stomach. “Dan? Dan?! What’s wrong?” He asked again, running over to his friend. In Dan’s hand was an open envelope, thick from whatever was inside. On the outside, written so messily that it was almost illegible, was Dan’s name. PJ reached out, for Dan or for the envelope he didn’t know; he just wanted to help in any way that he could.

“What’s in it?” PJ asked so quietly that he barely heard himself. The room felt unusually cold, though their heat was on.

Dan swallowed thickly and thrust the envelope to PJ, inviting him to look for himself. PJ reached in wordlessly, pulling out a small stack of polaroids, immediately recognizing Liam in the first picture. The red-haired man was laying on a mattress, naked, tied up, and gagged with tears in his green eyes. In the second picture, Liam was sucking someone’s cock, wearing a blindfold. The last photo was the most intense, with Liam tied up by his wrists and his ankles, with a masked man fucking him from behind. Liam’s mouth was hanging open, and he stared directly at the camera in a way that made PJ want to vomit.

“What…?” PJ whispered anxiously.

Dan shook his head quickly, pacing the small space in front of the doorway. “Read the fucking note, Peej.”

PJ took a shaky breath and unfolded the note, written in the same sloppy handwriting as was on the envelope.

“Liam wasn’t the man you thought he was, Daniel. I don’t often feel remorse for what I do, but I see you at his grave sometimes, crying out for him like he can hear you. He wasn’t studying on Friday nights; he was getting fucked by every man that wanted him. He was never faithful. to you, not once. No man that I’ve killed was innocent. They all deserved what I did to them. So please stop trying over an unfaithful asshole; he’s not worth it.”

PJ looked up from the note, his fingers shaking against the paper. No, it had to be a lie. Liam loved Dan more than anything; Liam was PJ’s best friend since childhood. Liam wouldn’t do something like that, right?

Dan swayed from side to side, “PJ... I think I’m going to be sick.”

PJ dropped the paper and the pictures just in time to catch Dan when he fainted, gently setting him onto the floor and onto his side. He sighed and ran his finger’s through Dan’s hair gently in a way of comfort. As soon as Dan came to, they would need to go to the police. As shocking and as terrifying as the note and pictures were, they could be evidence.

[ominous-faechild]

Hello, @ominous-feychild ! 👋✨

From the QnA tag, my eyes immediately went to Tazin the theatre kid (can relate). Can you tell me a little more about this character?

Haha, it doesn't shouldn't surprise me that you'd be interested in Tazin "the theater kid" {REDACTED}, Golden! Sorry for taking a while to get to this ask, I've been busy!

(Aka I've been stubborn about trying to get to these in order, but was stuck on Ludmila's part of another ask...)

Before I begin, I figured I should clarify: Tazin's name is pronounced "tah-zeen"! I've received some questions on this in the past and I know it's unconventional, so.

Tazin {REDACTED} | aka "Svarog"

So, to begin with! Unlike most characters, Tazin's last name will never be given within these posts, haha. Not only does he purposely hide it/his family, but it's actually spoilers! His family's name appears within the story, and I definitely don't want to expose him early, haha.

The reason I call him "Tazin the theater kid" is because, predictably, he's an absolute theater kid. I mean, he's never been able to do participate in theater stuff because Glavnran (but especially Kavo, the town he grows up in) is way too poor and stuck in survival mode to be able to afford stuff like that. But, still! Just one glimpse at this kid and you'd see it.

I'll give you a few glimpses of an as-of-the-moment (and will be for a while) unpublished chapter narrated by him as a treat, haha.

It wasn’t normal for someone to be in the alley, of course. The only “decent” people to ever go there would be the pasidnyy—taking a shortcut in pursuit of a villain—or a person chasing something stolen by the wind. Why would you go through an alley when it put you at risk of running into a bolyui or some punk looking for trouble? Well, Tazin was that punk. And bolyui weren’t real. They were just a scary story told to children to make them behave for adults.

(Note: bolyui are very real. The first and second chapters prove that much, and that they are utterly terrifying. He's just an arrogant kid who thinks he knows everything. /lh)

But some of {the "everyday people" on the streets} might’ve been pretenders, like him. Some of them might be out there with ominous motives—might even be working with the khonitva. Them, or the uzhar. Like him. Except, he didn’t work with the uzhar anymore. He’d seen to that.

(This kid KILLS me, istg--)

This strategy never went wrong. Nope, nuh-uh.

A genius plan, of course. He’d come up with it, after all.

Worst case scenario, if he couldn’t lose his pursuers, he could just set another building on fire. That always distracted people. A kid goes in a building, then the building burns down. Nobody ever suspected that the kid made it out—much less that the fire was meant to cover his escape.

(If that seems unrealistic, it's because it is. The cops absolutely suspect the kid survived, especially since he's pulled that exact same stunt a few times. He just thinks he's getting away with it because he hasn't noticed anything and they're too busy putting out the fires/saving others to find him in or escaping from the site.)

But Tazin’s mind wasn’t on any of his strategies. Instead, he was thinking of the letter he’d left. ‘I left the uzhar,’ it’d begun. ‘I don’t care if you want me to stay with them, I QUIT!’ Tazin had written, aggressively underlining the word “quit.” When he’d left the uzhar, he’d destroyed one of their hideouts. The recipient probably didn’t know that, but Tazin was sure that the uzhar had figured it out. That, and the message he was trying to send by doing so. Fire was Tazin’s whole ‘thing’, after all. ‘They were horrible, just like YOU, and I hate both of you!’ he’d written, once again aggressively underlining the word “you” on top of using all caps. ‘So I’m not going back,’ Tazin had written. Little did the recipient know that Tazin wouldn’t be able to go back even if he wanted to. He’d burned that bridge—almost literally—alongside their hideout. That’s why he’d done it, after all. ‘And don’t expect me to come back to you, either,” Tazin had initially finished the letter with. ‘You’re no better than them.’ But then he’d crossed the two sentences out, running the charcoal over them so it’d be impossible for the recipient to read it. As much as he wanted to hurt the recipient of his letter, he also hated the thought of it. And calling them “no better than the uzhar” would be too far. If Tazin had told them that, they might’ve finally given up on Tazin completely. Left him alone. And, as much as Tazin tried telling himself otherwise, he didn’t want to be abandoned. Not again. So, instead of that, Tazin had replaced those lines with: ‘and tell Mom I’m NOT coming back and to STOP looking for me!!!’

THIS IS ALL FROM HIS INTRO CHAPTER BTW-- 🤣

That last "bit" (read: everything about the letter) is spaced out between paragraphs of action. He's thinking about it while doing other stuff. I think it's a great intro chapter in general that pretty solidly explains his character and a lot of his business, haha.

Then again, maybe I'm just flattering myself.

ANNNNYHOW! As you can probably tell, he's an absolute drama queen with horrible attachment issues. A little under a year before the start of the story, Tazin was kicked out of his home. His family later changed their minds and tried inviting him back, but he's stubbornly refused to return, leading to him being in the position he is at the start of the Arcane Rifts.

I don't know if it's clear from the snippet (overall it's not the biggest deal but I want to clarify), but the "recipient of the letter" isn't his dad, but someone who is/was closely associated with his family.

Overall, Tazin's genuinely a fun character to write (most of the time)! He's very overdramatic; his narration is condescending toward the reader, as though he's talking to them, because he sees his own life as a story where he's the tragic hero; and whether it's ironically or played straight, lots of people seem to find him pretty funny.

Which, hey, he'd love to hear that!

(Minus the ironically part... actually tbh young!Tazin would probably lash out at you if you told him you thought he was funny. Y'know, thinking you thought he needed the validation. Whoops.)

Like Gene, Tazin starts the story young. He's only nine at first (if you couldn't tell,,,) but progresses to fifteen by the end of book 1 (there's a lot of timeskips through Important Events as the kids age up. Trust me, I'm careful with the pacing though, haha).

But, uh... that definitely colors my perception of his character a little differently than I'm sure you guys will see him. For a long while, you'll only see him as a kid, where his more negative traits (arrogance, selfishness, refusal to admit if/when he's wrong, etc) are a lot more excusable and possibly even charming. But in my head, all I see is how that stuff carries over to Adult!Tazin (because he never gets better), and I like him a lot less because of that, haha.

On a similar note, feel free to check out the songs that represent him.

A little more relevantly! If it wasn't obvious enough already (or if you haven't stumbled upon me mentioning it before), Tazin is a fire mage and healer! Otherwise known as a sech and izsech respectively in their language. Both powers typically come from their fire god (which, out-of-universe, takes a lot of inspiration from Hestia), Rholvny.

Like most mages, Tazin has an affinity for his element... which has turned more into an obsession for him if you couldn't tell. I've mentioned before that his (actual, lowkey) obsession with arson is related to a traumatic incident in his past?

Tazin is a complicated character. As much as I (hate to hate and hate to) love him, his character arcs revolve around his family / abandonment issues; the many, many problems it caused him (he used to just be a brat, but now...); and his relationship with Gene.

The two--Gene and Tazin--grow up together supporting one another because nobody else will do so for them. Tazin faces discrimination for his arson his skin tone, being Jhandan (or Fantasy!Indian) in a xenophobic country, aaaand for his deeply problematic aggression issues. Gene, on the other hand, is disabled and autistic--and you betcha Glavnran is ableist and social darwinists, too!

On Tazin's end, their relationship is/was problematic for a few reasons. One, Gene is too timid to stand up to him, leading to Tazin's worse habits never getting corrected since he can get away with them. Two, Gene becomes an enabler for Tazin's worse traits because of their history together. Aaaand, three... while Gene sees Tazin as like a brother, Tazin develops romantic feelings for him by the end of the first book.

Yeah. There's just NO end to the problems there--

But I guess those are just some of the many tragedies associated with two kids raising themselves and each other! (Despite that, they're still cute to read the interactions of whenever Tazin isn't being toxic.)

And, of course, this is all stuff I tackle (even if only through implication) within the story!

I'm sure this all is only one of the many reasons tAR won't be the most popular of my stories. 😅😭

Sorry I got a good bit into Gene there! I don't know if you can tell, but the two are practically inseparable, and their dynamic with one another majorly shapes how they turn out! (For probably obvious reasons.)

Hope you enjoyed reading! I actually cut out a LOT of possible snippets for the sake of (nonexistent) brevity, haha. Feel free to reblog and/or tell me what you think! PS: I think I'm probably going to change Tazin's title to "the dramatic". Thoughts?

Tag list: @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa

Divider by @cafekitsune

[tia-amorosa]

Sunset Died - Bunch Family

Connections (Part 1)

Judy is sitting alone at home this late afternoon. In front of a slice of freshly baked lime pie. But she almost feels guilty about even taking the first bite. Her family is still better off than others. “I don't know how much longer I can keep my feet still. I still have so many things to take care of”.

She looked over to the opposite side of the dining table. There was the laptop that everyone was currently using. At least for the time when the Internet was available. In the evening, between 8 and 9 pm. 1 hour in which everyone who had the authority could do a few things. And if you have a large family, there can be arguments when it comes to deciding who is allowed to spend how many minutes on this laptop.

A little later. The children come home from an outing. Of course, internet access is also very important for Lisa. So she was able to look up some things that had happened in the last few days… And they were quite interesting. Especially the fact that no one has looked after them yet, because it is assumed that the whole town has been completely destroyed and no one is left. “They're all stupid, what's going on with you?”

It took a while before the internet was activated. But Lisa walks around most of the day with her smartphone in her hand. It was almost too much consumption for Judy, so she wanted to know what she was looking at. “Mom, please…"/ ‘What is this, what kind of pictures are these?’/ ‘This is private, can I have it back please?’/ ‘Are you really going to start doing stupid things like that now?’/ ‘We're almost grown up. You and Dad, you…’/ ‘Yes, yes, here, and not another word’. Judy never thought she would find such… revealing pictures on her daughter's phone.

After she got her phone back, she looked at the pictures again and smiled. “The pictures are really harmless, we're not completely naked and VJ also has pictures like that on his phone. I'm glad that we can at least take pictures, sending them to each other doesn't work, at least not without a network"/ ‘You won't do that either, do you hear?’/ ”Yes, mom. Hnhn, he's so funny”.

It is now evening. And the children are waiting for Jack to come home. In the meantime, he has taken care of a few people who need help. Be it with work on their houses or just to be there to talk to them. “Hey, it'll be dinner soon"/ ‘but I was hungry now!’.

It wasn't long before Judy heard the front door slam shut. It was usually the children who greeted him first. Today she had the privilege. But this time she just stood motionless in front of him. “Hey, what's going on?"/ ”hh, I've just got my head full, Jack. I'm not making as much progress as I'd like and I've baked a terrible cake. The children eat it anyway, without making a face”.

He approached his wife. But she was a little reserved. “They just don't want to disappoint you. And as for the other thing… you're taking on far too much. Why don't you divide up the tasks? Don't you trust the others to do anything?"/ ‘I just like to keep an eye on everything’/ ”It's enough if you do this at home, Judy. You've already achieved so much, the construction of the classroom is as good as finished”.

Judy smiled with satisfaction. She and some of the parents had decided that it was important for the children to have some lessons again. “Yes, and I'm glad that even the children helped to set it up. They collected all the books they could find. And Holly painted the cloth with the younger ones."/ ”It all worked out well and lessons can start again soon. At least with the resources we have here” .

“yes, and I just happen to know which children are looking forward to learning something again and which are not"/ ”hnhn. Lisa?"/ ‘Oh, she's so stubborn, and earlier…’ Judy wondered for a moment whether she should tell her husband about the photos. But she didn't want to violate her daughter's privacy. “Well, it's not that important. It'll be time again soon…"/ ”I know, and I already have an idea who I want to contact. I should have done it much earlier, I hope the e-mail address is still up to date”. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

@greenplumbboblover🙂

Note: This part would probably have been longer. But I thought that since the last part was so extremely long, I would shorten it here so that I can fit a little more into the next part (which I am currently preparing for tomorrow) 😉 In any case, I am happy to be back in this family. After all, everyone has their part to play in this story.😗

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Hmmm it's been a while since I posted one of my weird crossover ideas on tumblr. Let's fix that.

For the past few days I've been enjoying daydreaming about a Avatar the Last Airbender/Wingfeather Saga crossover. But it's. probably not what you would expect, haha. I'll probably never write it as more than ideas though, so I may was well post the concept here.

So this takes place in the Wingfeather world of Aerwiar, several years before the Fall of Anniera that jumpstarts the war/plot happening in the book series. One day, Artham Wingfeather is in one of Anniera's port towns and is called over by a concerned citizen, who leads him to a crowd watching a rowboat slowly drift to shore. The rowboat contains two small children, who Artham brings ashore and takes back to Castle Rysen.

The small children in question are Zuko (age 4) and Azula (age 2). In this version of events, the Fire Nation royal family is a bit darker than in canon and, after Ozai flies into a rage and burns Zuko (yes he still has his scar I know I'm mean, but there's a POINT I swear) Ursa decides she needs to get her kids the heck out of the Fire Nation. But Ozai is suspicious and possessive of her in general and has her under guard so she can't escape the palace, so she entrusts her kiddos to a few trusted servants, who pack them up in a rowboat with food and water and send them off, hoping they'll make it to a coastal village and be taken in by a kindly family.

Most of this is explained/implied in a note that Ursa sent along with the kids, that Artham reads and passes on to Esben (and Nia and Arundelle). They are properly horrified.

However, what no one realizes is that these kiddos have come through a portal between the two worlds. So Artham and Esben ASSUME that SOMEWHERE these kid's mom is being held captive by their cruel father and so they send out search parties/reconnaissance teams to try and rescue her, and because any father so cruel as to hurt his son the way Ozai hurt Zuko needs to be stopped. The brothers also wonder if, perhaps, this is somehow connected to the Tragic Accident that befell their parents and aunt Illiya a year before when their ship was lost and they were killed. And they start to wonder if, perhaps, that wasn't an accident, but that they stumbled upon whatever This was and tried to stop it and got in the way. (They don't suspect Bonifer... at first...)

Anyway, Artham finds himself caretaker for these two small children and develops a bond with them, especially Zuko (what, you thought I WASN'T going to use this as an excuse to make a connection between two of my favorite characters of all time?). Arundelle also becomes close with them, and- besides the cooks in the castle- she's the first person Artham tells about the kids. Because I thought it'd be fun to make Arundelle a healer (hey, why shouldn't she be good with healing plants and herbs? heh) and have her be the main person who treats Zuko's burn.

Azula recovers from the trauma of being separated from her mom and home pretty quickly since the new place she's in has kind, caring people, nice food, is still a palace, and she's two. She loves playing with Arundelle and listening to Artham's stories. She's very bright and friendly and talkative. She IS very attached to her brother tho, sleeping in the same bed as him the first few nights in this new place, even defending him/trying to explain his actions the way she's heard adults do. (when Artham finds the siblings they're clinging to each other in their little boat, terrified)

Zuko is more complicated. He's had the physical trauma of being burned paired with the emotional trauma of being hurt and abused by his father (the burning wasn't the first time, just the most severe). He understands a little more of what's going on than his sister. He love, love, loves being held, especially by Artham, because since Azula was born he's not been allowed to act like a "baby" and hasn't gotten much physical affection. He's very shy and has periods of mutism when meeting new people or encountering distressing/unfamiliar situations. Little guy has also had his senses severely rattled by losing both half his vision and half his hearing in one fell swoop. In short, he's a mess. The first time he's alone with Artham he has a panic attack because he thinks Artham will hurt him, but Artham being so kind and understanding and gentle with him helps him unlearn that. Zuko becomes very attached to Artham very quickly and... Artham becomes attached to him pretty fast too.

(Additionally, Zuko is terrified of Bonifer. The only explanation he can give for that is, "He looks at me like father did." which does plant a little seed of suspicion in Artham's mind specifically)

So, long term, this severely messes up Gnag/Bonifer's plans, since suddenly the Annierans are combing the Hollows/The Killridge Mts/even the Doonlands trying to find Zuko and Azula's family. This either forces the baddies to speed up their plans... or derails them altogether. I haven't decided yet, haha. The Annierans do find out something of what Gnag is doing (they don't connect Bonifer to it right away tho) and end up with some preparation for the attack that eventually comes. I think the attack on Anniera is still somewhat successful, but a lot less so than in canon. Like, I don't think the entire populace is captured/scattered and I haven't decided if I want Artham and Esben to still get captured or not. (if they do I have this great mental image of 7-year-old Zuko and 5-year-old Azula trying to rescue them from Throg. Just. just imagine the CHAOS even a pair of BABY firebenders could do in Aerwiar. Imagine.)

Oh yeah, to give you a better idea of WHEN this happens, Nia is pregnant with Janner when Artham finds Zuko and Azula. I just thought it'd be fun for Zuko to have the same age gap with Janner he has with Aang and it makes it close enough for things to come together plot wise.

So yeah, that's my thoughts on how Zuko and Azula could potentially have prevented the Fall of Anniera. xD

Other random things they cause:

Artham adopting them

Artham and Arundelle getting married a few years before Anniera falls after the closeness and bonding that comes from caring for a pair of traumatized children.

Absolute chaos with their firebending (the Annierans chalk this up to the old stories of Annieran/Anyaran kids having special powers to defend their home with and decide not to question it further)

So yeah, there's my late night thoughts on a WFS/ATLA AU. where Artham adopts Zuko and Azula. because why not. I hope it was a fun read. :D