#this MIGHT be easier for everyone since i wanted to make sure it reached everyone LOL

[s-essha]

@howlighte & @gyaryuyu SENT: MY MUSE & ART.

light spoiler warning.

The final answer isn’t as clear cut —   in lieu,  many factors merge to present the simplest answer:   he does,  in fact,  draw anime fan art.  Part stems subconsciously,  producing senseless doodles that tend to appear in the margins of any physical paper he receives,  rare as physical copies tend to get discarded post-scanning them from his phone and clicking  ‘Save as a PDF’.   Immediate isolation as a child surely didn’t help either,  sheltered from the outside  ( family business always comes first, irrespective to age )  within walls obscuring anything but screen after screen. 

Work smarter,  not harder.   Said screens became a go-to if not primary source for early development,  maturing unrefined scribbles into acute observational sketches,  both fiction and reality preceding stylistic development.  Of course,  his dad wasn’t really a fan of any of it,  chalking it up to youth’s wish,  the cruel truth known by both him,  his mother,  and Idia.   Ortho could,  and would,  be excluded from those conversations.

BUT! ———   Mindless scratches of lead and hissing at the snap of the tip  ( another omen of never-ending bad-luck,  probably! ) drift him from one world to another,  much to his own pleasure.   Even better,  losing himself with the outside surroundings additionally muffled by trusty,  signature headphones,  blaring only the BEST  —   and often underground —   music picks,  old and new!   Ritual that trails gracelessly into Night Raven,  occasionally appearing as sketches that resemble the likenesses of other peers if not sourced from a horde of varying interests.   RPGS,  ‘80s anime and manga,  campy movies,  and that barely scratched the surface for all there was to inspire.

Observation was key after all,  circling the core understandings ripped apart piece by piece to identify every single moving part.   Dissectible information that led to deepened understanding along the same lines of understanding the human form through the sketching of his body only to be ( accidentally ) depicted a stalker when caught by other student(s).   Definitely not one of his best  ( or proudest )  moments ——   it formed a decent enough topic line for a mid-term paper;   Effects of passion in depictable media,  so swallows it up regardless with unchanged admiration.   

It made sense as a topic, anyway. Passion builds coveted material,  both indie and popularized.   Lack of it strips tales of old and new both would be half of what they were in the present,  and the future’s would be any less enticing;   a dime a dozen,  in short.   Hard effort melting into bursts of creativity to build from zero to hero,  enticing any / all refined eyes in the image of pure,  unbridled devotion to craft.   The construct,  the execution,  the effort.   It all rolls itself into a PERFECT COMBO:   artistry,  passion,  understanding!    If offered the choice,  time / focus would be placed on that rather real life,  flurries of Shroud-patented rambles accessible to any who could, and would, comfortably tune in.   Gatekeeping is no fun anyway.   AFTER ALL,  anyone can replicate anything,  but it takes something by someone,  a someone who could be anyone,  to create something unforgettable.   In another life,  Idia could only hope he’d be that anyone.

[acid-ixx]

I have a question, well 2 questions to be exact that’s been rattling around in my head since I started reading platonic yandere batfam fics, why would reader stay in Gotham? I’d be sneakily stealing as much money as I could without getting caught as soon as I reach a “fuck these guys” mentality. Like, asking to have some money for groceries or something and just pocketing it so that I could get a bus ticket and leave the city. Would you do it if you were reader? It just makes sense to me “this place sucks, these people suck, I’ve gotten enough to leave”, this is with me assuming that reader has the means of course, if the reader doesn’t then okay, yeah that makes sense

And my second question, do you ever feel resentful towards Alfred when you read batfam photonic yandere content? I do sometimes, especially when the reader is neglected. I know this might sound odd but when I read these fics I recognize that Alfred could do more, out of everyone in the manner, I think Alfred’s word carries the most weight, especially with Bruce due to him raising Bruce. I also notice in some batfam fics that the reader doesn’t get mad at him due to him giving them attention, but idk it feels kinda like a slap to the face, knowing that I don’t have the power but he does and yet not exercising it until I’ve burned every last tie to that family.

I know my thoughts are a more “well you’re on the outside looking in” type takes, but idk, it hurts my heart knowing that if reader stays in that city, it will be far more easier for the batfam to find them, where if they were outside the city, they’d have a fighting chance to make a new life for themselves

On a side note, I think we are underutilizing the angst potential of reader legally changing their name and the batfam not knowing until months or even years later when reader leaves. Like Bruce and the fam would just have to sit and realize that reader hates/dislikes/doesn’t care about them enough to legally change their name from Wayne to whatever reader chooses. Jason was Batman’s greatest failure, but Reader would be Bruce’s greatest failure, and what a delightful public failure it would be if the tabloids were to somehow find out that one of Bruce Wayne’s biological children changed their legal name

I’m loving your batfam content btw, like it makes me want to create one of those “screw therapy, I need to fist fight my dad” tiktoks and tag Bruce Wayne, that’s what I can phenomenal writing!! And sorry for making this so long! Hope you have a great existence!

slight spoilers for future chapters.

this is one of my favorite asks... anon, you are so brilliant because your two questions tie into the reader's character so well and the flaws that they (you) conjured from years of neglect, so i hope my answers would suffice (i am answering based on the perspective of the reader from my series: again & again with a bit of my own perspective). tysm for sending this in, i actually really enjoy long asks and appreciate it when people take the time to send me these things!

why would the reader stay in gotham?

chapter one wasn't all the detailed about why they stayed in gotham. firstly, their self-worth had them reason that in no way, shape, or form would their family that basically estranged them would come running to them, especially not when the only time the reader could even stumble across them is by some miracle of coincidence. this also ties into their lack of knowledge about their family. sure, they know that babs is the oracle but do they know just how much access she has across gotham? not really. they know tim, like bruce, has a tendency to collect information about other people, but they don't know that they have contingency plans to be creeped out enough to get away from gotham and from their reach.

"it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!"

and the third point is, despite bruce being a billionaire of some sort, it was stated that the reader was too well-behaved and quiet. how does this make sense? as you've stated, they wouldn't simply have the means to get out. seeing as they were sheltered by alfred and never really explored the concept of traveling far away, they never asked for money; the only advantage of being a wayne is having quite a lot of things served on a silver platter.

they have this sort of toxic bond for staying with the people who have hurt them and it materialized to them physically staying despite knowing it would only cause more pain than anything else, and they don't know that. plus, they'd rather not have the wayne name associated with them and getting money from cheques or credit cards would be too risky for the reader's safety.

they've only realized just how shitty their family is after more than 10-13 years of staying in the manor, and saving up to move to an entirely different place would be difficult, alongside college and the jobs they have to take. so the next best thing they could do is rely on any means of advantage they could get whilst also moving on to the path of self-discovery and recovery.

but that doesn't mean they're staying in gotham forever, definitely not. the moment the reader realizes that dick gained some sort of interest towards them, they're booking it out of gotham. preferably to metropolis or central city or even somewhere far, far away— they're naive, but not stupid. sudden interest towards them means danger rather than anything else. and they're aware that alfred is capable enough to pull strings, so that's why spoiler alert: they have a secret stash of money hidden somewhere and like any children of bruce, they inherited the capability to be smart enough to already back up their contacts and everything on their phone, buy a burner phone and even change their entire identity in one quick go right after they move into an entirely different city or country.

gotham is merely their practice course.

do you ever feel resentment towards alfred?

quite frankly, yes. the reader in the fic feels resentment towards everyone for a reason actually, but alfred's part was stated vaguely as to not spoil a future chapter that focuses on his perspective. they know that he has the more power inside the manor more than bruce has. everyone, and i mean everyone respects alfred, and it doesn't take a genius to know that if you mess with him, you're messing with an entire family of crime fighters.

it's not obvious, but the reader's narrative in chapter one is them trying so hard to delude themself into thinking things can be better until it's too late. so in a sense, there's false narrative coming into play.

"alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least."

at some point in time, alfred had also neglected the reader emotionally with the same reasoning as the others; he was busy with their father. and this all could've been avoided if alfred had tried to confront the entire family about it. i'm not delving deeper into this to really avoid spoilers other than pointing out some details in the first chapter.

just know that alfred relishes in your newfound favoritism towards him, and that he may or may not have pulled some strings himself from helping you become closer to the family.

the part about reading changing their name from (name) wayne to (name) (last name) is what made me so drawn to this ask. you have pretty much predicted one of the chapters that explored (name) wayne to the public eye. they're not so much of an internet celebrity because of their rare appearances in public, but that's what causes immense curiosity about their identity to uprise in gotham, and their fame was one of the means to get to you.

there was one news article published that was the reason that made bruce distant towards you.

but let's focus on what yan! bruce would've felt once he turns a full 360.

because the first thing he would do once he has you in his grasp is to change your last name back to his. you are not the child of a (last name), you are a wayne first and foremost, bruce's third child and his greatest mistake, quite literally. you were a product of a one-night-stand, and because he was drowning in despair from jason's death, he had failed to notice you. all his years of neglect, and he doesn't even know a single thing about you, simply because he refused to acknowledge your presence.

and you rightfully hated him, he should've accepted that. but your diary entries and the way you innocently thought of him destroyed any sliver of hope for a peaceful reconciliation. he hates how you were experiencing the same type of despair as him when it comes to battling your own monsters— you truly are a wayne at heart. he couldn't afford to let you get away any further. just like dick, he needs to fix it now or further sever the already broken ties you have with him.

it's not batman now, but rather bruce. bruce wayne had failed to save another one of his children, not as a vigilante, but as a father.

knowing bruce, he's quick to take into action and search for you.

holy shit, this is a really long post but i hope it does answer the questions ! im so grateful that you like my writing enough to write a really long ask, and i hope to see your messages more once the new chapters are published <3

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Public Displays of Affection

Requested: Heeyy, love your writing! I wanted to request a preference with the boys + HM and SB about how they would be with PDA. Thank youuu 💚💚💚💚 - anon

A/N: Thank you for requesting my love!! I hope you like it! This was so cute to imagine omg :D Feedback is always appreciated 💕

Butcher is allllllll about PDA. Most of the time, it includes a hand on your ass, but he's not against more of the innocent touches. To make a point, he'll kiss you pretty passionately, making sure the person who was hitting on you knows you're together. He's all about touching and being close. He doesn't even realize he's doing it. He just sort of gravitates towards you when you're together. He's really possessive and protective, and it just comes out through PDA. He's not big with words. He might call you "love," but he's far more comfortable with physical affection than anything else. Everyone groans or makes jokes about the PDA between you two, but neither of you care. He says they're jealous, and that makes you smile. Maybe it can be a bit much sometimes, but you know it's just because he cares, he worries, and he needs you close. When you're afraid or worried or just tired of this life, the PDA can be a huge comfort. It reminds you, you have Butcher. That, through it all, you'll always have him. He'll be your constant even through the hardship.

Hughie can be pretty shy with PDA. He really loves hand holding and playing with your fingers, but that's about as far as it'll go. Hughies pretty awkward when it comes to relationships and PDA. He's also really shy and awfully aware anything could make you uncomfortable. He never wants to step over the line, so he sticks to the most innocent forms. When he's scared or worried, he'll instinctively reach out and squeeze your hand. That's when you know this life is getting to him. You squeeze back, neither of you looking at one another, but using these moments to reassure one another wordlessly. You're never the first to let go. If or when he's okay again he'll let go, but you never want to leave him alone with his fears when he's feeling overwhelmed. Whatever kinds of affections Hughie shares are cherished. He's so shy with his love, so careful, it makes it so much more special when he does decide to show off a little.

Annie isn't as shy as Hughie, but she definitely knows what she can and cannot do. Because she's a public figure, she wants to do everything in her power to keep you safe. Homelanders allies and fans will do anything to hurt her and, by association, you. You've gone to a few red carpets together, but since she's stepped back from The Seven, her PDA has changed a lot. She used to pose for pictures with you and kiss you in public and now it's a lot more subdued. She'll hold your hand, but she scared if she did anything more, Homelander and Firecrackers fans would come after you. Not to mention the paparazzi that still follow her (and you) around on occasion. She loves you, of course she does, but she doesn't want your name dragged through the mud because you're in a relationship with her. Not that she listens to it, but she's heard from coworkers that Misty, on her show, talks shit about you and your relationship together. She wants to do everything in her power to protect you.

M.M. doesn't really "do" PDA. He has nothing against it. It's just not something he partakes in for a variety of reasons. The biggest is safety. He might not be in the limelight like Annie, but this life is dangerous, and it puts a target on your back when others know you're important to someone. If any Supe ever found out that he cared for you, and that got you hurt, he'd never forgive himself. Another reason is that he doesn't love constant contact. His hands get sweaty, and he's never sure if it's the right moment (because something is always going wrong - is there ever a good moment?), so it's just easier to avoid. He's affectionate with words, often calming you down or reminding you how much you mean to him, but the physical aspect just isn't something you do as a couple. Of course, he'll always hug you and make sure you're okay, but that's about as far as it goes. Neither of you is big on PDA, so it's not a big deal. He just wants to keep you safe. You're in enough danger as it is, he doesn't need Homelander or a Supe seeing him holding your hand, kissing you, etc. That puts an extra target on your back. If anything ever happened to you because of your relationship he'd never forgive himself.

Frenchie can go either way. When he's got something on his mind, when he's feeling particularly bad or guilty or ashamed about his past, he pulls away from PDA. He isolates himself from you. Not because he blames you or anything, but because he doesn't think he's deserving of your love or affection. When he's feeling less self-deprecating, he's all about PDA. It can hurt when he pulls away, but he makes it clear you have done nothing wrong. It's a cycle he follows where he pulls away, retreats into himself, only to understand you're hurt by his actions, and comes back at full force. It's not a short cycle. You often have a lot of time together full of affection. It's when it starts over that makes you feel like you've done something wrong, said something to make him feel bad. Frenchie feels horrible when he realizes what he's done, but he just can't bring himself to stop it. It definitely creates issues in your relationship. He never meant to do this, it's just something that he feels he has to do as a way of repenting.

Kimiko can be pretty shy with PDA. You're her first official relationship. You're both unsure, a little awkward, and shy. You never want to cross her boundaries or make her feel uncomfortable. There's a lot of communication between you. It's actually pretty sweet, genuinely innocent. The first time you grabbed her hand for reassurance, scared of Homelander and the future, you apologized after. She just smiles and tells you she liked it. It was surprising, but not in a bad way. It's one of your go-to's: holding her hand. Occasionally, when you're feeling more carefree, you'll hug her from behind and kiss her cheek. Your friends all poke fun at you for being so shy around one another. They could all tell you liked one another. One of you just had to build up enough courage to tell your feelings. As time goes on, you and Kimiko become more comfortable, allowing yourselves to be more affectionate in the open. When you're separated and end up together again, she's always eager to hug you, hold you, and check for any injuries.

Bonus! Homelander is all about PDA as long as the cameras are rolling and the crowds are cheering. It's nothing against you. It's not as if he's done with you when the curtains close. He's stressed out and angry and dealing with so much, mainly Butcher and The Boys. He doesn't really think about PDA outside of the public eye. It's a stark juxtaposition you have to learn to get used to. He's so loving and sweet and kind when you're being interviewed. As soon as it's over, his smile drops, and he becomes his upset, distant self again. The first time it happened, you felt wounded. Did he hate you? Was it all just an act? When he notices this, he assures you it had nothing to do with you. He's just stressed. It's not easy being the leader of The Secen nor is it easy keeping Vought together when it seems like everything is falling apart and everyone is a complete fucking idiot. It's not about you or the way he feels about you, it's just how things have to be.

Bonus! Soldier Boy's PDA borders on vulgarity. He's always got his hands or lips on you. When he loves, he loves with his whole being. That means serious make out sessions in front of people who assumed you were single or his arm around your waist, showing everyone that you're together. He gets insanely jealous over the smallest looks, the most innocent of comments. He can bet pretty handsy and, at times, go a bit overboard to the point of being inappropriate for most viewers. When you're around The Boys, they're pretty vocal about your PDA and will cut it off if they think you've gone too far. Ben can't help it. You're his everything. He makes sure everyone knows that you're his everything. That you're with him. He also loves the more PG13 touches like hand holding or hugging. He's constantly touching you one way or another. It brings him a lot of comfort knowing you're around, close by, that you're there for him no matter what.

[loki-cees-all]

Hello and hi, my lovely!

I have this scenario for you that I sometimes think about.

How would Loki react if you (the mortal he might have feelings for but he’s not quite certain yet) were the only one to acknowledge his birthday? Maybe you put up a few balloons and even buy him a little cupcake with a candle on it? How would he react?

Happiest of birthdays to you! You’re a joy to know!! I love you!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Cupcake For a God {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : Loki’s birthday is approaching, and it forces himself to reconcile who he wants to be versus who he actually is, and to reflect on his almost certainly unrequited feelings for you.

But what if the feelings weren’t unrequited?

W/c : 1.9k words

Content/Warnings : Angst, a bit of fluff

Author's Note : I swear I tried so hard to make this not so angsty! Please forgive me, Saz! 😭😭😭

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

There were a lot of things for Loki to dislike about living on Midgard. 

For starters, he was being forced to live there, inside Stark Tower with the other Avengers as penance for his crimes. It was only fitting, they’d told him, that he should assist in their efforts to keep the mortals safe because he was the reason they needed protecting in the first place.

Loki didn’t bother telling them what Thanos had done to him after he fell from the Bifrost; truthfully, he still didn’t quite understand it himself. That entire year was a blur to him - a painful concoction of lies and manipulations and tears and blood that left him unable to tell the difference between fact and fiction, even almost two years after the torture had began. 

He didn’t want anyone to know how weak he was, about how much he’d lost himself. If they knew how vulnerable he was, they might decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and send him to the dungeons of Asgard instead. 

Another thing he disliked was the forced pleasantries and unnecessary rituals humans had developed with each other, and by extension, him. The humans would smile as they past him by on the street, but it was a falsity every time; the sentiment never reached their eyes, and Loki could smell their fear from several blocks away. 

Loki knew they didn’t actually care how his day was going, that their concern only went as far as making sure he wasn’t on the verge of invading with another alien force under his command. He wasn’t, but honestly, if it meant everyone kept their distance, then he wasn’t going to argue with it. 

It wasn’t fair to say that Loki preferred being alone, but he was certainly used to it, and that was in direct contradiction of the forced socialization he had to endure on Midgard - press conferences, team building exercises (which Loki believed was just an excuse to consume copious amounts of food and drink), training sessions, something called “movie nights”, and missions across the world to dismantle S.H.I.E.L.D.’s various bunkers and bases. 

It was so much talking, and even more listening. So much lying and pretending that everything was fine, that Loki didn’t feel like a caged monster, and that everyone else wasn’t waiting for the littlest thing to completely set him off. 

But Loki was trying as hard as he could to ignore the dull ache that haunted his dreams and every waking moment. He knew he had hurt people, he knew he needed to make up for his grievous transgressions, but he didn’t know how else to make up for it all. So he pressed on, through the discomfort and awkwardness, in the hope that one day everything might become a little easier.

The one bright side to all of this, the one shimmering ray of light amidst the sea of gray, was you. Loki didn’t quite know what to make of his attraction to you - was it real, or was it just your absence of fear in his presence? Had it just been too long since he’d felt the touch of another, or were you actually everything he’d ever wanted?

Loki almost didn’t want to find out, in case it wasn’t real. Because your smile reached your eyes every time you looked at him, and your laughter was like sparks blowing across the embers of a dying fire…but he couldn’t shake the fear that it could just be another trick. 

Perhaps his mind still hadn’t fully recovered from Thanos’ torture. Maybe Thor had put you up to this, as a way of making assimilation easier for him. 

Because why else would you look at him like that? Why would you go out of your way to sit next to him during the team’s movie nights? Why else would you lean towards him on the couch and fall asleep against the shoulder of a villain, of a monster, of a fool? 

It was stupid, and pointless, and illogical, and just like him to irrationally want something he couldn’t ever have. He was a God, and you were a mortal, and it would ultimately end in heartache either way. So while he had the chance, Loki forced himself to remain content and to just linger in the question of what if you could want him too. 

The final thing about Midgard, and the one he despised the most, was the mortal obsession with birthdays. Loki was grateful the Asgardians never paid any attention to such silly and exhausting traditions - which was surprising, considering how much Asgardians loved frivolity. 

So he really shouldn’t have been shocked when Thor discovered, and subsequently fell in love with, the concept of birthdays. His brother immediately requested his mortal companion Jane to perform the necessary calculations to determine the Midgardian equivalent of Thor’s birthdate - and Loki’s as well, which his brother gleefully announced to the entire team and embarrassed him to the deepest pits of his soul. 

A massive celebration was planned for Thor, with enough food and drink to sustain a small country, and on the special night, flashing lights and loud music bathed the massive common room of Stark Tower in merriment and laughter. Everyone was invited, and it would have been rude for Loki to not make an appearance - but it wasn’t because he wanted to admire you in your party dress, although that was a very lovely bonus. 

But as gorgeous as you looked - the longer the party went on, the sadder Loki became. Everyone was talking, smiling, and dancing, congratulating Thor on his many accomplishments and swapping happy stories of all the good times they’d had together. It was painful to witness, to know for a fact that no such party would be happening for himself when his birthday rolled around. 

Loki tried telling himself that he didn’t want it, and that he’d be miserable during it. He tried convincing himself that it would be too loud, and too bawdy, and vain, and that he didn’t need other people’s reassurances that they were happy he was there with them. He told himself he didn’t need it at all, that he was completely fine without it. But it was a lie, so of course it didn’t work. 

As the days approached to Loki’s birthday, he became even more withdrawn than usual. With the exceptions of necessary missions or training, he stopped leaving his room. He was silent during travel on the Quinjet, and refused your invitations to further movie nights, even though the disappointment on your face ripped him apart in ways he’d never experienced before. 

He felt like he deserved to suffer, to collapse in on himself like a dying star because he knew he’d never be worthy of the love and attention his older brother seemed to collect so effortlessly. It wasn’t Thor’s fault; it was just Loki’s lot in life. And the further he receded, the more likely his heartache would be justified, and he couldn’t be surprised if he was already disappointed.

The evening of his birthday was the worst night he’d experienced in a long time, not since the day he let go of the Bifrost. Loki didn’t even come out of his room for dinner that night, choosing instead to feast on pain, and anguish, and regret, and all the feelings he hadn’t ever had the time to process over his thousand years of existence. 

Thor tried several times to lure him out of his room, to no avail. Loki wouldn’t leave - no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t bring himself to witness the fact that they’d done nothing special for him, even though he’d be furiously uncomfortable if they did. 

As the hours passed, he tried to distract himself with sleep, and then reading, but neither did the trick. Eventually, he curled up on the window seat of his private quarters, wrapped himself in furs and pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the tiny little mortals going about their nights in blissful ignorance of the god suffering fifty floors above them. 

And Loki was so lost that he could barely respond to the cautious knock on his door, the one that threatened to pull him away from his misery. But his heart leapt in his throat when he heard your voice calling his name, and he wanted so much to let you in, to feel you next to him. 

But the urge to say something cruel, to push you away and continue on alone, was just as strong. Loki didn’t know which to concede to, even as his feet slowly carried him to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say, even while his fingers raked through his messy curls and rubbed the pain from his eyes. 

He felt ridiculous as he hesitated to open the door; he was a God, and once the most fearsome villain this entire planet had ever seen - but here he was, nervous and split open and too raw to simply open a door and look upon a beautiful woman while he was hiding away from his birthday. 

There was a soft rustling sound on the other side of the door, and Loki’s forehead rested against the wood as he heard your footsteps quietly retreating down the hallway. He’d waited too long, paralyzed by his self-indulgent indecision, and it had pushed you away. 

He thought about yanking the door open and calling after you. He considered begging for you to come back. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around you and to pull you closer, but all he could manage was to gently pull the door open after he was sure you were gone. 

On the floor of the hallway, waiting patiently and comfortably for him, was a beautifully-decorated cupcake and a note resting on a small paper plate. A single candle rose out of the emerald and sapphire swirls of frosting, and the pink paper was folded in half, with his name written in the loveliest cursive on the outside. 

Loki fought back tears as he retrieved the gift from the floor, and he cautiously balanced the plate in one hand while holding the note in the other. 

Hey Loki,

I know birthdays are hard; they’re hard for me too. But hopefully this treat makes you smile, even just for a second. 

I’ll be awake for a little while longer - stop by my room if you need to talk. I promise I won’t find it weird :) 

XOXO

P.S. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not ready to accept that yet. 

He swallowed hard as he stared at the most generous gift he’d ever received. He didn’t know if you even fully understood what you’d just done for him. He fervently wanted to go after you, and he desperately wanted to continue hiding. 

But you’d extended an invitation, one he could feasibly take you up on. No one would argue it wasn’t in his right to do so. And Gods above, he wanted to, more than anything else he’d ever wanted. But would it be worth it, or would it just make everything worse? 

Loki tore his damp and heavy eyes away from the note and glanced up and down the hallway. He shut his door, just as quietly as he’d opened it, wondering if it would be a mistake to allow his heart guide him to where he’d rather be. 

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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[luveline]

dad!steve eek!!! maybe some for kbd!? no rush, anyway love you!! <3

kisses before dinner au —mom!reader, 1.1k

Bethie squirms uncomfortably in your lap. “I’m sorry, mommy,” she says. 

“Well don’t be,” you say, hand to her forehead and holding her back so she can see your face, how you’re not angry. “It’s okay. You don’t like it?” 

“I’m not hungry.” 

You don’t get it. Bethie hasn’t eaten anything all day. She refused breakfast, snacks, smoothies, and hot chocolate. The plate in front of her repulses her, no matter how gently you plead with her to try it. “Honey, I don’t see how that can be true.”

She’s in your lap because you’d been hoping helping her eat might make it easier for her. She was thrilled to sit in your lap, but not even slightly inclined to eat her mac and cheese, or any sides. You offer her a slim carrot baton shining with honey, wiggling it from side to side. 

“Doesn’t that look yummy?” you ask softly. 

She looks down at her hands. 

You drop the carrot. You’re genuinely perturbed. Not easily panicked, this has thrown you off kilter. Beth has been picky ever since she started school, and you don’t mind, you’ll accommodate and feel sorry that she misses out on Steve’s chicken pot pie, but there’s a difference between being picky and having a total aversion to food she used to enjoy. 

Avery tries to pretend she’s not watching. Steve doesn’t bother, frowning deeply despite the baby in the high chair beside him and Dove on his thigh, the two girls giggling about something. The rest of them have cheeks covered in cheese sauce and sticky lips, but your Beth…

Maybe it’s too much to have everyone watching, you think. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s leave it for later, yeah? Will you help mommy with something? Is that okay?” 

Beth nods emphatically. “Yes!” 

You help her down off of your lap and take her little hand. “We’ll be back in a minute.” 

Steve shakes his head, at a loss. “Sure,” he says, though his face says something different. What are we going to do? “Take your drink.”

You grab the glass if only to appease your worrier. 

You and Beth leave the kitchen and the living room to sit on the stairs. There isn’t much privacy to be made in the house, but this will do. You put her on the step above you to sit eye to eye, and you take her little hand, rubbing circles slowly into the soft palm of it. 

“Is there something mommy can get you?” you whisper. “Anything at all. Because you’re so big now, you know you need to keep yourself nice and strong with dinner. Yeah? You need to eat so you can have lots of energy. I know,” —you smile at her startled frown— “you said you’re not hungry, but it’s okay. We don’t have to eat all of something. Me and you could go have McDonald’s, or pizza! We could have something special. We could go get donuts. Anything you want, even if it’s only one bite.” 

“I don’t know, mom…” 

“Anything you want, baby. Even if we get there and you don’t want it anymore, or it’s not what you thought.” 

Bethie decides in whispers that she’d like McDonald’s ice cream. You could cry. You almost do when you con her into eating half of ‘your’ cheeseburger on the drive home, her little feet swinging in the footwell as she licks ketchup off of her fingers. 

You show Steve the wrapper when you get home proudly. 

“Good job, mom,” Steve says, reaching for you in the doorway. 

Bethie brandishes the cup tray of ice creams to her sisters in delight. They scramble in screeches to get there first. 

“Wren!” Bethie cheers, wiggling an ice cream at her baby sister where she lays in a bouncer. “Mom, can I feed Wren?” 

“Only the plain one, baby.”

“Yeah, I know. Wren, look! I have ice cream. You want ice cream?” 

“Little spoonfuls,” Avery says, reaching for her own ice cream, big sister instincts quelled by excitement. “Oh my gosh, there’s fudge.” 

Steve nudges your hip with his hand. “Hey, you okay?” 

“That was a bit scary.” 

“It’s just a bad day for her. She’s okay. Did you eat anything?” he asks, curling an arm behind your back. 

“No. I got you a strawberry-kiwi smoothie, though.” 

“Anything for yourself?” 

You shake your head. “I knew Beth would only eat if I was eating it, so I had a bite.” 

“You’re a genius,” he says, hugging you to his side. His shirt smells like detergent under your nose. “I kept your dinner in the oven. Only take a minute to heat back up.” 

“Did you eat yours?” 

He puts his lips to your cheek and doesn’t answer. 

“This is nice,” you murmur. 

“I know.” He rubs your back. You’ve never had to ask him to do it, he just grabs you up and sets about soothing an ache you don’t have. He’s always been like this. 

“I can’t believe I had to sweet talk my six year old into eating fast food,” you say, watching Beth over the curve of his shoulder. She swallows a spoonful of ice cream and crinkles her eyes at the cold. “I never could’ve imagined this.”

“Thank god. You never would’ve let me date you if you did.”

You laugh and angle your head up for a kiss. “That’s not true,” you murmur. 

He kisses you but seems more eager for a hug, hooking his arm higher up behind your back and cuddling you into his neck. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do,” he confesses, “but if you keep being that gentle? She’s going to be fine.” 

You brim with a weird pride. Steve knows intimately the kind of parent that you are, and how hard you try, so if he thinks you’re doing a good job, you must be. “Dinner was great,” you promise. 

Steve laughs. “I know. It was fucking bomb. Honey roasted broccoli? These kids don’t get how good I am. I could go pro.” 

Dove wanders over with clumsy footsteps but better pronunciation. “Smoothie, daddy,” she says, holding his pink smoothie up to him with an urgent look. 

“Oh, thank you.” He pats your arm and breaks away to bend down. “Thank you, gorgeous,” he says, taking the drink and smiling huge at her. She says something in garbled kid talk and leans in to give him a hug, and then she runs back to her ice cream. 

Steve looks at you adoringly. 

“How’d you give me four perfect girls?” he asks, knowing he’s cheesy, his smile turning teasing. 

“A lot of hard work.” 

“I can tell.” 

[spiderlily-w1tch-blog]

𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚂𝚑𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚞 - 𝙰𝙱𝙾 𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝕎𝕀𝕊ℙ𝕊𝕀𝕄ℙ𝕊

— — —

ft Claiming|Mating, ft sex ed; Demonstration, teacher/student|age gap, fingering, nipple play, size difference, belly bulge, knotting

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: I do not own Naruto or its characters, all credit goes to its creators and actors

WC: 4,225

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: includes underage(16), Omegaverse, very slight mention of Blood, No use of Y/n, 2nd Person POV, obligatory exhibitionism/public sex warning (Series Warning)

𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔦 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Shikamaru is aged up to about the age he is in Boruto(and a couple others of the Konoha 13 are mentioned to be older too), the students are anonymous so they can be pictured as the New Gen kids or just random peeps, whichever floats your boat, oh and Temari doesn’t exist here lol or at least they never got together

【Ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ】

— — —

“Make sure you’re all paying attention, got it? Otherwise, you’ll stay incompetent little Alphas your entire lives if you don’t learn.” Shikamaru Sensei announced to the class from behind you, sitting in his chair with you on his lap, legs spread open wide, hanging over the armrests.

You figure you would have been more embarrassed by your position if you weren’t so caught up in the Sensei’s pheromones. You felt his arm reach to the front of your body and spread your lower lips to show off your glistening, slicked-up cunt.

You’re a student of his friend, Kiba Sensei, who teaches older kids, old enough to have already presented, whereas Shikamaru Sensei teaches kids right about or just younger than the age to present. They reached the sex ed portion of the curriculum and he said he needed an assistant, vaguely remembering that your friend, an Alpha, was requested as an assistant for Naruto Sensei, the Omega course instructor. Another of your classmates, a Beta, was requested to help with the same course for the Betas and possibly again for an overarching lesson.

This wasn’t quite what you had in mind but you couldn’t get yourself to care, this felt too much like heaven for that.

You gasped at the sensation of his fingers on your slit, even if just the edges. The rough pads of his fingers felt amazing against your sensitive skin. At the rate things were going you wouldn’t have been surprised if he triggered your heat.

“You see how her pussy is dripping?” He called out, receiving a couple of vacant nods as all attention was solely on your naked form, “That’s called Slick. It’s a natural lubricant that every Omega produces. It indicates arousal and makes the process of mating easier for everyone involved. If you’re lucky enough to have a big ass fuckin’ knot, you might have to add more lubricant.” He drawls on, clearly not happy he has to actually be teaching these kids how to properly fuck an Omega, though he was clearly slipping in a hint of subtle bragging with a silent ‘like me’ in his statement.

“Uh, Sensei?” A hand flew up from the second row, the only female Alpha there it seemed, “What about male Omegas? Do they have both like Female Alphas?” She asked, fidgeting nervously.

“Yes.” He sighed, having assumed that was common knowledge, “Instead of having testicles behind their little cocklettes, they have pussies. It generally looks pretty similar down there for Female Alphas and Male Omegas apart from proportions, since Female Alphas, such as yourself, have internal testes. Moving on.” His voice was firm and left no room for argument, wanting to just get through the lesson.

“This right here,” he slid one hand up and stroked two fingers over your clit before spreading them just enough to frame your already swollen bud. The feeling made your body tighten up and your head to be thrown back onto his shoulder as a moan was ripped from you at the sudden movement, “is the clit.” He smirked at your reaction and teasingly nosed at your cheek.

“As you can see, it causes massive amount of pleasure for our pretty little Omega, here. It’s extremely sensitive so even the slightest touch can affect her,” he emphasized his point by simply moving his middle finger to gently caress it in slow, tight circles. Your back arched and your hands gripped the chair’s arms, your little Omega claws digging in and scratching lines into them while your feet flexed and your toes curled.

“Holy shit…” One of his students muttered, his voice heavy with arousal. You whimpered when he moved his finger away from your clit again.

“Please…“ You whimpered out, grinding your hips the slightest bit against his cock, barely restrained in his pants. He moved his finger away from your whole cunt, and to the juncture of your thigh and pelvis, which drew another, more needy whimper and whine from your throat as you started to grind your hips more desperately.

“See that? You do it right and you can make your Omega just as needy as she would be in heat. So even if you haven’t given her anything from your dick, she’s already basically cock drunk.” He drawled, though he was clearly proud of himself. “And you brats obviously know what tits are. If you didn’t I’d wonder how you even made it this far.” He muttered and got a soft airy giggle from you which he smirked at.

“If you do your job right and you knock her up with pups,” he punctuated his point with suddenly plunging 2 fingers into your awaiting cunt and made you cry out at the unexpected pleasure and arch your back while his other hand slid up your body to grasp at your breast, “then these pretty tits will fill with milk in preparation for the pups.” His hand shifted from groping you to pinching your nipple and lightly tugging. You became a mewling, whining mess and your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to arch your chest into his warm palm or buck into the hand with 2 of his big Alpha fingers moving inside your pretty pussy.

“And how do you ensure you get your good little Omega to carry your pups?” He asked whether it was meant to be rhetorical or not, you weren’t sure but he answered in lieu of his students anyhow, “You knot her. You fill her with cum and her fertile little Omega cunt will be plugged up full and she’ll get nice and round with pups. If you do it right.” He growled out lowly at his students, practically convinced they’d be incompetent Alphas for one reason or another. He slowly dragged his fingers back and forth in your pussy and smirked at the lewd squelching of your slick. The Alpha made your back arch with a jolt once again when he scissored his fingers inside you and spread your puffy lips and let even more slick rush out of you and drip onto his pants and down to the chair he had you spread out over.

“Now, to make sure that you get it and actually learn this shit, I’ll be giving you a live demonstration.” Shikamaru Sensei spoke with a bored expression but his scent betrayed his true feelings of excitement to fuck your tight little Omega pussy. Your little virgin pussy, well, not so virgin anymore, but still untouched by a real cock, only ever your toys for your heats. The arousal in his scent served to cloud your mind even more with your own horniness rivaling even your heat at that point.

“Ready, ‘Mega?” His deep gravelly voice was right next to your ear as his lips brushed the shell of it, his hot breath fanning against your face. It sent shivers down your spine and arousal to spike directly in your core where his fingers still slowly moved in you. You whimpered out a hum of approval and shifted your hips in his lap once again. “I need words, Princess.” He spoke like a soft command though it still held just as much authority.

“Yesss..!” You hissed through the torturous pleasure of his devastatingly slow pace. A low rumbling emanated from his chest, a pleased sound, as he nosed at your cheek to silently show his delight for your answer.

“Good girl…” He rumbled and removed his finger from your slit, earning a displeased whine that he simply snickered at. Shikamaru Sensei slid his hands under your thighs and unhooked them from the chair’s arms and patted your hip to signal for you to stand. You obliged on shaky legs and almost lost your footing before he caught you with steady hands as he stood. “Careful. Can you make it to the desk, Omega?” He asked in a flat tone but you could tell he was actually concerned. You nodded with conviction and made your way, still on shaky legs, to his desk that he had cleared off before the lesson started and leaned your bare ass against it, waiting for the Alpha’s instruction.

He had a pleased smirk and a satisfied rumble when he saw how obedient you were being. Such a good Omega, waiting for your Alpha to give his command. It had his already hard cock stirring in his pants. He advanced like a predator to their prey and stood in front of you, back straight to showcase his height and how much larger he was than you. Instinctively, you bowed your head and tilted it to the side enough to bear your scent gland to him, ready for him to sink his teeth into and claim you. The realization gave you pause for only a moment and you corrected your stance to simply show your submission to the large Alpha. Another pleased sound left him, though this one was more throaty.

“Good girl.” He purred and moved his large hands to your hips to help you hop up onto his desk. Your bare ass and cunt made contact with the cool surface and made you shiver. “All of you.” Shikamaru barely turned his head to address his students with a harsh commanding voice, “Come up closer so you can see. Everyone, sit in the first rows and watch carefully because this will be the only demonstration today. Depending on the other groups, you might get a chance for another demonstration but don’t count on it.”

You glanced at the pups when the shuffling sounds started but a hand guided your face to look back at the Alpha in front of you and then returned to your waist. There was a faint spark of reassurance in his eyes as he blinked slowly at you which you returned after a moment, silently assuring him you were ready and completely willing. A tiny smirk tugged at his lips before he schooled his expression and slid his hands up from your waist, gently cupping your tits for a moment and tweaking your nipples as his deft fingers passed over them. A small chirp left your lips at the feeling and his hands settled on your shoulders to gently push you back to lay on his desk.

You followed his silent command and let him move your pliant body in whatever ways he needed to. Consciously, he shifted your leg closest to the pups to rest over the front of his desk, perpendicular to your body to expose your dripping cunt to them before he lifted your other leg to plant your foot on the surface for the moment. He stepped back not even a foot, still keeping himself close enough to adhere to your Omegan instincts— your neediness that grew more and more for him the longer he went on— to tug at the waistband of his pants. Finally, with a small sigh of relief from him, he freed his aching cock that bobbed up from its confinement and hit his toned and tender stomach with an audible ‘plap’ from his pre-cum coated tip.

The sight of his cock, a bit longer than he is thick, sent another wave of arousal gushing from your cunt that clenched around nothing. Seeing the effect he had on you, he didn’t hide his smirk from you as he tugged his pants down to rest around his thick thighs. He stepped closer to you again and rolled his hips to slide his member through your glistening pussy lips. The foot he had set on his desk was lifted and your knee rested in the crook of his elbow, spreading you further for him.

“See what happens when such a pretty little Omega sees a suitable, worthy Alpha? When she sees a nice big Alpha cock? She knows how good she’ll be bred. How good she’ll be knotted.” He stated, though it seemed to be more about boasting than truly teaching them a lesson at that point. Nonetheless, he pressed forward and grabbed the base of his cock to slide his tip through your folds. Instantly your head fell back with a ‘thunk’ when his fat tip glided through your slick and over your swollen clit.

Shikamaru let loose a low rumble deep in his chest at the feeling and grabbed the meat of your thigh that rested in his hold as he pushed forward once again. His cock finally pushed past the soaked, twitching ring of muscle and into your tight, wet heat. You both groaned at the feeling and he stopped himself from pushing all the way in. He had to remember that even though you’re an Omega, that your body was made for this, you were still so much smaller than him. He had to let you get used to his size, Kami knew it would be more than worth it. Your body tensed up when he initially entered and your hole quivered around him. Far sooner than he had assumed, you mewled a needy whine and shifted your hips as much as you could with the position you were in.

He had only put in a couple of inches to let you adjust but that proved to be not enough. You needed more. Shikamaru happily complied and slowly began sliding more of his thick cock into your greedy little hole. You hummed, pleased, and shifted your hips up to meet him until his hips were flush with yours. When you felt the barely-there swell at the base of his cock you shuddered with pleasure and bore your neck to him.

His Alpha preened at your show of submission and even more at the simple fact that he was properly pleasing an Omega. His Omega. His good little Omega who was being so pliant and obedient. A swell of pride bloomed in his chest with a rumbling growl that sent shocks down to your cunt and a shiver up your spine. Your body quivered around him and sent him into action. Shikamaru pulled his hips back slowly and steadily and snapped right back into you.

“Fuck, Omega…” He grunted, reveling in the way your cunt clung to his length, the tightness that wrapped around him. The gravelly tone of his voice appealed to your instincts in a way no Alpha had before. Though, to be fair, the only Alphas outside your family you’d been around were your classmates and Kami knew none of them were even close to as mature as the Shadow User. Your own Sensei was a good runner-up but something about the Alpha who was thrusting inside of you just adhered to your wants and instincts just right.

“You hear those pretty little noises? Fuck- Those cute little fuckin’ whines and whimpers? That’s how you know you’re doing it right.” Shikamaru— still a Sensei— remarked to his students, a near feral smirk on his face, especially when he glanced out the corner of his eye at them and saw the looks on their faces. The enamor and want on their faces called to the Alpha so thoroughly that he couldn’t help but lean even further into his instincts. He couldn’t help but feel pride and possessiveness over you so strongly that he hunched his body over yours to shield you from their wanting gazes.

He thrust wildly into you and let the rest of the world fall away, the only thing that mattered was you and how you felt wrapped around his cock. How you felt clenching around him. How you would feel spasming around his knot. He wanted to knot you. He wanted to breed you. He wanted to mate you.

In the midst of his thrusts, you felt a thrum of deep-seated yearning and need rush through you, stronger than it was before. Suddenly, you felt your body heating up and new waves of slick gushed out around his cock.

“Oh, fuck, Omega…” Shikamaru grunted, his hips stuttering for only a moment before he was reinvigorated and jackhammered into you with a new energy. “Feelin’ so fuckin’ good that she went into heat. Her body and her instincts picked up on a prime candidate for her Alpha and are fuckin’ calling out for me, for my knot.” He spoke, only partially even thinking about his students.

“Pl.. Please, Alpha..!” You whined, bearing your neck and clawing at his shoulders. A low growl escaped him and he hummed, satisfied with a smirk that curled his lips to show off his fangs, shiny with his drool as he looked at the completely untouched spot on your neck just begging for his bite.

“You want my knot? You want my bite? Huh? You wanna be mine, ‘Mega?” His tone was teasing but he also knew that you still had enough of your wits to answer honestly.

“Yes! Please, Alpha, want it! Want your knot! Wanna be yours! Wanna be your good Omega! Mate me! Breed me! Alpha!” Your heat fuzzed your mind just enough that you didn’t have the capacity to think about lying so you were more compelled to just spout what was truly on your mind. His cheeks flushed with heat but his thrusts remained full force and his grip on your thigh and waist tightened. He jolted forward with both his hips and his upper body and when his pelvis pressed flush against yours, he crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Your lips molded and tongues tangled as he swallowed your moans and met them with pleasured groans of his own.

His cock filled you up so perfectly, his size hitting all the right places and made you feel fuller than you ever had before. Even your heat toys weren’t as big as him. And through messily colliding lips and nearly uncontrollable moans, you communicated that. He swelled with pride and swiveled his head to lead an attack down your jaw and to your neck. As he laid kisses and nips on the span of flesh, your moans increased in volume and octave and your hips thrashed wildly against him. The knot in your lower belly was pulled so tight it felt like it would explode any moment. When he laved his tongue over the crook of your neck, it did.

“Alpha!!” You cried out as your cunt gushed around him and clamped tightly enough that he almost felt like he’d already knotted you.

“Fuuuck, Omega… So fucking tight. So good, such a good fucking girl for me, such a fucking good Omega.” He growled out against your skin and nipped at your neck, aiming to leave a dark mark as if like a precursor. The raven-haired man forced his dick to move through your vice grip and pulled back to slam back in. Again and again. Harder and harder.

“Please- Alpha-! Mate me! Breed me! Pleasepleaseplease-!” Your words slurred together as your little Omega claws dragged over his shoulders, leaving angry red marks that he decidedly would wear with pride. It was the final straw before he would give you a mark you would wear with pride.

With a glance shot at his students, Shikamaru dipped his head down and sunk his teeth into your neck. Right over your scent gland. The metallic taste flooded his mouth like an explosion when it hit. An explosion you shared as you came again. The feeling of his big Alpha fangs sinking into your flesh and the bond snapping into place sent you hurtling over the edge before you even realized you were close. Just as your pussy gushed around his cock for a second time, his knot fully expanded and he bullied it into your tight little hole. While his potent seed filled you to almost bursting, you didn’t register your voice coming out in a pleased cry.

He claimed you. He really claimed you. Your Alpha. Your big strong capable Alpha claimed you and knotted you. His big dick had already made a bulge in your tummy as he pounded into you and crashed into your cervix effortlessly. Then his cum inside you bulged you even more. You nearly looked heavy with pups already. His pups. Your Alpha’s pups. Your Alpha.

Your chest heaved with each heavy breath you took as Shikamaru still rutted his hips into you, plunging his cum that much deeper into your womb. You keened at the feeling and hummed in satisfaction with the feeling of his cum buried inside you, soothing the heat that hadn’t even fully embedded itself yet. Shikamaru Sensei lapped at your new bond mark, soothing the ache and cleaning up the blood. You shivered at the affection and let out a pleased purr that he responded to with a rumble of his own.

“And that’s how it’s fuckin’ done.” He growled proudly at his class, though he didn’t take his eyes off you. He dipped down and pressed another kiss to your lips and you could taste the residual metallic taste in his mouth as he licked into your mouth. “Now, if you want to complete it, which you should always do unless you want to be a piece of crap Alpha, you gotta have your Omega bond you, too. So, how about it, babygirl? You wanna gimme a mark like a good girl? My good girl?” There was a gravelly rumble to his voice that sent sparks down your spine and you shyly nodded. It brought a small smile to his face and he bore his neck to you, showing off the unmarred skin just waiting for a claim on his scent gland. He emitted a musky, undoubtedly mature scent that appealed to and enticed you wholly. It drew you in like a drug that you had no intentions of resisting.

You laved over his skin with little kitten licks and that clearly pleased him if the slight change in his scent and the rumbly purr in his chest was anything to go by. Opening your mouth as wide as you could, you leaned in and bit down as hard as you could to sink your teeth into his flesh, managing to puncture his thick skin with your little Omega fangs after a moment. The bond snapped into place again, wholly this time, and a sense of peace washed over you. You could feel how pleased he was with the outcome through your new bond and happily lapped at your bite that decorated his skin.

“So.. you’re like… really bonded now?” One of the chattier young Alphas-to-be spoke up from where he was fully leaned over the desk beside you.

“Yea. And if you play your cards right, you might be able to bond an Omega, too. Though, that really relies on if you paid attention or not. If not, you’re not gettin’ another demonstration and you’ll be doomed to be an incompetent Alpha for the rest of your days.” Shikamaru spoke lowly, purposely scaring the boy as a tactic to make sure he followed the lessons, particularly the first part of the etiquette lesson. “And yes, I’m aware that I pretty much skipped the main courting part, but this is a special situation. One that you more than likely won’t get to be in, so you make sure you follow that lesson. At the very least don’t be a dick.” He rolled his eyes a bit, though you giggled a bit at the show, able to tell that that’s all it was.

“Good Alpha…” You murmured, still just a touch too hazy to form a proper sentence, as you nosed at his neck. He turned his head back to you and nosed at your temple with a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m gonna be tied to my Omega for a while, so we’ll just continue the spoken portion of the lesson for now.” Your Alpha carefully picked you up and maneuvered you into a comfortable position in his lap as he sat in his chair before his class once again. Exhausted and satisfied, you curled into his chest and just listened to the rumble of his voice as he continued with his lesson.

He kept his arms secured around you and would press the occasional kiss to the top of your head and nosed at your hair to ensure you were still comfortable and came down smoothly. He explained that to the class and brought the atmosphere mostly back down to normal while he spoke about the domestic aspects of caring for an Omega and taking care of a mate. He touched on having a Beta partner but mostly kept explaining how to be a proper Alpha to an Omega.

“So make sure you don’t screw it up. I’ve explained it pretty damn clearly.” That brought a small smile to your face as you let yourself drift off into sleep against the firm, warm chest of your Alpha. You would later hear about when a fellow instructor walked in and saw him not only knotted in you but now mated to you and gave him an exasperated tongue lashing but overall just rolled their eyes at him and carried on. Many of the other Omegas in your class were envious and practically demanded gossip but life remained relatively the same, save for having a wonderful Alpha caring for you and taking every opportunity to dote on you, especially in front of his students.

— — —

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥:

Crossed out if I can’t tag you for some reason!

@frosch-thefrog @hellsingalucard18

[unforth]

Alright not to like liveblog my breakdown on main but yesterday was a really bad day after a really bad, like, 4 months, and I've hit a bit of a breaking point and one of the only things in my life that can give is running @mdzsartreblogs , @tgcfartreblogs , @svsssartreblogs , @erhaartreblogs , @tykartreblogs , and @cnovelartreblogs , so that is what has to give. It's been a 99-out-of-100 days thankless job. A small number of people do say thank you and yall I appreciate you so much (HUGE shout-out to the artist I met at Flamecon who gifted me a zine when I said I ran these blogs, @bonesblubs you rock) but I have never done an act of fandom labor simultaneously this labor intensive yet this invisible before and, uh. It sucks. I spend an hour or more a day on this every day, if it's under 2k hours since I started the first of these in September 2020 I'd be shocked. And I do it because I love it but doing it means I don't have time or energy to do other things I love. And I really don't want to just quit, but I can't keep this up.

In a last-ditch effort to try not to just give up, I'm making the following changes:

1. Only watching one tag per fandom for the MXTX fandoms. I am going to check *only* #tgcf, #svsss, and #mdzs. Artwork posted to any other tag, I will not see unless a mutual reblogs it.

2. Reduced tagging (even more). I'm only going to tag characters and maybe overarching au type (eg, "modern au," "fantasy au"). I'll no longer tag creatures. I will continue to tag the same common trigger warnings I already tag.

3. If a work's appearance doesn't make it obvious what it is AND the tags aren't clear, I'm not going to reblog. I can't keep spending 5 minutes or more trying to figure out what I'm even looking at, scared that if I guess wrong the artist will get mad at me for mistagging their work. If I do reblog, I'll tag only the artist name and/or whatever else I can identify for sure.

4. I am no longer going to follow #link click. The fandom is just too big. I've started dreading checking it. If I was more into it and less busy I would make another spin off just for it but neither of those is true. (The art is so good, I hate to do this, but. If you love link click, highly recommend the main tag, lots of great stuff there.)

5. I will no longer tag any non-cnovel content in the art/post. Like, if someone draws, idek, Xie Lian and Marinette from Ladybug, I'm not gonna put any tags for Marinette, just for Xie Lian.

6. Basically if I run into something hard to tag or confusing or unclear, my new policy is I'm not gonna fricken bother.

I think those are everything but idefk, I cried for 3 hours last night and got 4 hours of sleep so I'm mostly fueled by exhaustion and desperation right now and my memory is even more fried than usual.

How artists can help. This is obviously all optional. You do you. But since some people might want to know what would make my life easier, I'm sharing. I'm not claiming I feel entitled to dictate how people fandom or anything like that.

1. Put the tags for the character(s) and ship(s) early in the tag list.

2. If you make art for a fandom that isn't one of the big ones (right now the only big danmei fandoms on tumblr as far as I can tell are the MXTX fandoms and maybe 2ha) I am begging you to use my tracked tag #cnovelartreblogs

3. Do mdzs art? Tag #mdzs. Do tgcf art? Tag #tgcf. Do svsss art? Tag #svsss.

4. Not only artists, but everyone, *please* stop tagging fandoms not discussed and/or depicted in your post. It's gotten to be stupid common for people to blanket the danmei fandom tags with posts only about one fandon (like, svsss-only works also being tagged mdzs and tgcf and 2ha for some damn reason). This isn't about just my sideblogs tbh this is just fandom etiquette that seems to have been forgotten or never learned by many. Tagging unrelated fandoms isn't "reach," it's annoying. People go into the #mdzs tag to see mdzs, not whatever not-mdzs stuff people have decided to tag for ~reach~, and seeing the same post in 8 tags, none of which it's related to, is so damn irritating, and makes scrolling the tags looking for content that IS relevant take that much longer. Knock it off.

Okay. I think that's as much as I'm prepared to meltdown where everyone can see. Thanks in advance everyone for your understanding, and apologies to everyone about to see this 8 times as I reblog it to each sideblog.

At least I'm not tagging it to everywhere. 🤣🤣🤣

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /two/ Azriel X Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part one Part Three

You dream of the blue of his siphons. The hazel of his eyes. You see him every night, whether you’d like to or not. He seems to invade everyone of your senses, always. Even from miles away. Even if he was dead. But you swore you’d know if he perished when Amerantha took over. You felt as if you would’ve felt his loss deep within your gut. 

But there had been no word of Velaris, or the people inside it. Had your brother truly been able to hide it all of these years? He’d been stripped of so much of his power, but did he have enough to keep your beloved city safe? 

“He wants you in the dining room for dinner.”

“And if I say no?” You question the red haired fox. 

His eyes, one golden and mechanical, narrowed on you, “He’ll drag you down by your hair.”

“I’d like to see him try,” You bark out a laugh, knowing you could shred him in a moment if only you had use of your power. 

The faebane they kept you full of made sure you were just a sliver of who you once were. Your skin was dull and lifeless, gone was the wondrous glow of immortality. Because you might as well have been mortal, plain and easy to kill. But you still had the self defense that your brothers taught you. You still had the ability to fight back. You were weak now, yes, but you could still just as easily use one of the butter knives on Tamlin. 

“Please,” Lucien begged, “Don’t be difficult. It’s been a hard day.”

“He lost another, then?” I question, head cocking to the side. 

“Don’t bring it up or he’s likely to skin you alive,” Lucien warned you. 

“Again, I’d like to see him try.”

Lucien’s eyes seem tired as he looks at you. Your fight seemed to dissipate as you looked at him. You knew time was running out, far too fast. Soon enough Amarantha would take control over every Fae, no matter where they lived. Tamlin was the only one keeping her at bay, and his power was almost hers for the taking. Then what would become of you? When her goons came for Tamlin and ransacked the house, surely they’d find you and drag you before her. Then you’d just be a tool to further your brother’s pain. 

“Ah, I can see it now,” He sighed, “You’ve realized your fate, if this doesn’t work.”

“He’ll never convince a human to love him,” You shake your head, “No matter how charming  he can be.”

“For your sake, you best hope he does.”

You follow him from your room, or your cell, whatever seems to fit one day to the next. The manor house is quiet as you make your way through it, servants not sparing you a second glance. They all knew you were being held prisoner, yet they could do little to change it, without incurring the High Lord’s wrath. 

For once in your life, you were helpless, and had been since that day in the clearing.

“It would’ve been so much easier for him,” You mutter, “Had he just let them kill me that day. Instead he had them spare me and now I stay a constant headache.”

“More like a constant thorn in his side,” Lucien smiled slightly.

The thought brought a sly smile to my face. You prepared your stone mask as you grew closer to the dining room. Lucien was the only one you allowed to see a sliver of who you were. You allowed him to see more of yourself than you should, because he saw someone who was a little more delicate, a little more capable of love and sadness. Not the stone exterior of the Night Court that we worked so hard to maintain.

“Play nice with him tonight,” Was Lucien’s last warning before we reached the golden doors. 

You schooled your face into a bored mask, as if all of this was beneath you. For centuries you’d been playing this part. Without so much as a break from it. Only when you were sure you were alone in my rooms did you let the mask fall. Only then did you cry out for my family, for my home. 

“Glad you decided to join us,” Tamlin’s voice carried from the end of the table. 

Your eyes roll, “As if I had a choice.”

A snarl escapes from Tamlin, claws slowly growing. You smile sweetly at him for a moment, before throwing out what little power you had left to reach into his head. Just enough to let him know you were there, just enough to be a pest when you wanted. But it wasn’t without difficulty. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you strained against the confines of your power. 

“Enough,” He yelled, slamming his hands down against the table. 

You flinch back, seeing the beast start to emerge. For a moment you allowed yourself to feel the slight fear that crept in. You were weak now, unable to protect yourself as you used to. He’d taken your power, your freedom, and your strength away from you. Stripped it away as if it were nothing. He should have just killed you in the forest that day. 

“Where is the little human?” You question, sniffing the air, “Her…stench is hard to miss.” 

“She’s getting cleaned up,” Lucien spoke up, “Might be best if you eat before Alis is finished with her.”

I turn slowly to glare at him, before turning back to Tamlin, “Still keeping me as your dirty little secret then?”

“She doesn’t need to know about you.”

“You know, I hope you can charm this one,” You snarl, “Because time is running out. Soon enough we’ll all be-”

“Enough!” He roars, “I know how much time we have left. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Oh, you still have the chance, but the second he finds out I’m still alive,” You can’t help but laugh as you shake your head, “Well… then you’ll really wish you allowed them to kill me.”

“If she finds out you're alive…” Lucien trailed off with a look from Tamlin. 

I flop down into a chair and scoop up a glass of wine, “Well, this is going to be a fun couple of months, then, won’t it?”

“Behave,” Lucien snaps. 

“I am behaving,” I reply sweetly. 

“Eat, before I lock you up and forget about you.”

“Now now,” I sigh, “It’s been centuries, surely we can be a little more civil than that,”

“You’re too much like your brother,” Tamlin sighs, leaning back into his chair. 

“You almost sound sad about that,” You note, “Regretting crossing him?”

“No.” 

You hum and drink your wine before tucking into the food before you. Despite knowing there was faebane in it, you couldn’t stop eating. You hardly ate anymore. Just enough to keep you alive, but today you were starving. 

“Slow down before you make yourself sick,” Lucien said slowly. 

You growl at him before slowly down slightly. If only your brother could see you now. See what you’d become. If only Az and Cas could see you, what would they think? Or Mor or Amren. You weren’t sure what they would say if they could see you now. How different you’d become. 

Time passed slowly. The weeks dragged on, as you were only allowed out of your room when Feyre, the human, wasn’t around. Tamlin was doing well with dancing around your existence. Firenight was quickly approaching, and you felt the excitement deep in your bones. If there was one night that you would beg to be released it was Calanmai. 

“You know you can’t.”

“Please Lucien,” You all but beg, “He’ll be there, I know it.”

“Which is why you can’t leave the manor,” He explains.”

“I just want to see him for myself,” You whine, “I need to see him, just once before the fifty years is up. Just once.”

“He’ll know.”

“Tamlin will be too caught up in the rite to notice,” I remind him, “And you can manage a convincing glamor.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just this once,” You say softly, “I wouldn’t ask if time wasn’t running out.”

“I know.”

“Just, please.”

“You stay next to me the whole time,” He explains, “Running off could get you killed.”

“I know.”

“Thirty minutes, that’s all you’ll get.”

“It’s more than I thought I’d get.”

Your heart hammered in your chest with the prospect of seeing your brother again after centuries of being apart from him. You knew you wouldn’t be able to tell him who you were, you wouldn’t be able to leave with him. Or speak with him. But you’d be able to lay eyes on him, and know that in whatever capacity, he was okay. He was alive, even if he was a slave to the bitch under the mountain. He’s still alive. And that’s all you could ask. Even if the rest of your family was dead, at least he lived on.

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 12

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues, canon typical violence* Fluff, sass, flirting, it's a whole chapter of domestic fucking bliss as displayed by two people very horny for each other. Summary: Booted back to the States after the DEA puts him on notice, Javi runs into an unexpected and familiar face at his cousin's wedding. Notes: Next week will be the epilogue for Javi and his writer, and then we will be on to the next soulmate story! Thank you so much to everyone who came along on this journey with us. It really has been so fantastic. 🧡 As always, I apologize for any errors I might have missed in proofreading.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

There is no sinking, sick feeling like you expected. Only the knowledge that rolling over to dig out and light up a cigarette before talking will be something you share, skin to skin and heart to heart, with your soulmate.

"Alright." When you turn back into his side again you take a drag of the cigarette before handing it over to him. "Where do you want to start?"

Javi takes the cigarette and inhales slowly, eyes slipping closed as the nicotine rush hits him on the first puff. They can claim all they want to about cocaine, it’s not got shit on a cigarette. He holds it for a second before blowing it out. “I meant what I said.” He wants that written in stone, right now. “It’s not a heat of the moment thing, I love you.” He repeats softly, eyes opening and focusing on you.

"I've been in love with you since before I left to come home." You tell him softly, accepting the cigarette when he passes it back and embracing the intimacy of sharing it. "It hit me when I was living with you, actually..."

“When you were kidnapped.” Javi admits, watching as you take a slow drag off the cigarette and savor it just like he did. “I fucking nearly rubbed my - your tattoo raw, checking to make sure it was there.” His hand reaches for your thigh since you are still propped up and he squeezes it. “I didn’t think I needed to pile that onto you when you were so broken.”

"I needed to come home." That is an absolutely certainty. You needed to get away. To heal. And that never would have been possible if you had stayed in Colombia. "But I don't have the nightmares nearly as much anymore and I'm going a lot better. It's—it too a long time. But yes." Passing the cigarette back again, you have the good manners to look a little sheepish. "That's why I was so shitty while Elisa was around. I was jealous."

“Connie chewed my ass when she found out you were my soulmate.” Javi promises you. “I didn’t think that you cared at first. You were so adamant that our being soulmates was not an issue.” It had stung at the time, wounded his pride and hit at his ego. He had always expected his soulmate to swoon at his feet, or shit would be even easier than it was with most women. It was why he had bristled at the fact and inadvertently caused so much pain for both of you. He shrugs apologetically. “I’m an asshole.”

"I just don't think we were in the right place. Either of us." It's something that you've given a lot of thought over the years and you hope that that is abundantly obvious. "We were far too focused on our careers and couldn't see the forest for the trees. We didn't believe in balance." Sighing slightly, your eyes tick up again to find his and you bite your lip out of nerves. "I believe in balance now."

He chuckles quietly. “I don’t know if I have a job.” He reminds you. “But I know that I want you.” It’s something that has been obvious since the moment he saw you talking to Lorraine. You had appeared back in his life and he wasn’t going to waste a second chance. “What do you want?”

"You." This time you aren't hesitating. You aren't waiting and you aren't waffling. There is no path forward that doesn't include Javi now that he's back in your life. "Everything else is negotiable."

The cigarette is passed back to him and he flicks the ashes into the tray in the other side of the bed, twisting away from you for just a moment before he is facing you again. “We are settled on that.” He agrees, smiling softly in relief. “Now we just have to figure out six million little details.”

"Only six million?" You smirk at him and settle back against his chest again. "Piece of cake. Wanna start with the basics?"

“Which are?” He asks with a snort. “I’ve always thought two kids, but if you want more, I guess we can decide on a number.”

"Two is good." That smirk curls your whole mouth, turning your expression into a grin. "I was thinking more like...where are we going to live?"

“Well…shit.” He chuckles and the hand that isn’t stroking the little pooch of your stomach curls behind his head to prop it up. “That’s a good one. You want me to move to Rhode Island?” He asks. “I’m not too fond of the snow, but I’ll do it.”

"I at least want you to come up and meet my family." You bargain, turning your head so you don't blow smoke from your last drag back in his face. "If you get up there and decide winter is more horrifying than you expected, we can pivot and I'll come down here."

“Summer is shit here.” He points out, wanting to be honest. “It’s a million fucking degrees. So hot you don’t even want to fuck.”

"So it's either winter so cold you freeze when you try to fuck naked, or summer so hot you don't want to fuck at all." You snort in amusement. "Maybe we should move to the middle of California or something."

He curls his nose at that suggestion. “No California.” He huffs. “They are too fucking….Californian.” He doesn’t have a good reason to not like it, but he doesn’t. “Murphy said Miami wasn’t bad.”

"Hot and humid." Which sounds even better than hot on its own. "I don't know if there's a perfect solution, baby. We may just have to pick the one that has something we really love about it and deal with the bad parts that go with it."

“Texas is home for me and Rhode Island is home for you.” He muses. “So we just say fuck it and move to someplace we want.” He looks at you seriously. “Are you done writing? Permanently?”

"I'm done with journalism." That doesn't necessarily mean you'll never write again, but it means you won't be trotted out to rehash the most traumatic week of your life every single time anyone wants to talk to you. "Working in a kitchen has been good for keeping me busy, but I don't know if I want to do it forever."

“Why don’t you transition to a different avenue?” He asks seriously. “Your articles are better researched, plotted and presented than most books I’ve read.”

"I used to really like writing short stories." Tilting your head slightly lets you rest against him completely as you sink down under the blanket with him again and you shrug a little in his arms. "I could give it a shot. I can write in between restaurant shifts. It'll be easy enough to get a line cook job whereever we choose."

“If I don’t have a job with the DEA…” he sighs. “I’ve been offered a deputy position but I’m sure I could get on anywhere.” It doesn’t help make a decision, but he rocks you closer to his body. “But I should be able to support you if you wanted to do it full time.”

"Let's see if I can write anything good enough to actually sell." He's soft and warm and so comforting like this that you could just melt. "If you have a job offer here, let's stay here. There's plenty of restaurants in the area that I can work in for now, and your Pops is here."

“You would want to move here?” Javi’s surprised but he hums as he thinks about it. “There’s a little ranch down the road that’s about to go on the market.” He considers. “Owner died and it’s going through probate.”

“Didn’t we say once that Texans and New Englanders aren’t so different?” All of those early conversations with him are burned into your memory. Years later and you haven’t forgotten a single one of them. “I’m sure I’ll adjust in no time. Ranch, little house, whatever you think will work. You know this place far better than I do.”

“I think before we decide anything, I should probably visit your home, right?” He smirks slightly. “It would only be fair.” He wants to see where you grew up, meet your mother. Things that he had never really contemplated ever having to do, but now he is glad that you aren’t someone he’s known his entire life.

“It’s chilly but not snowy yet.” You promise him, smiling reflexively at the idea of bringing Javier home with you for a little bit. “Fall is the best time to see New England.”

He thinks about that for a moment and then nods. “When would be a good time for me to come?” He doesn’t ask if you want him to just come back with you, that might be too much.

“Well…” A soft laugh escapes you and your cheeks burn. “I’m going back on Monday morning. You could always come with me?”

“You would be okay with that?” His brow lifts in surprise. He had expected you to want to talk to your family first.

“I’ll call my mom tomorrow and let her know, but I don’t think she’ll mind.” You reach up to kiss him, reveling in the warmth of it. “She knows about you. My brothers…I didn’t want to talk about it much. But my mother knows.”

He winces slightly, knowing that by all rights, your mother should have a dismay opinion on him. “How bad should I expect it?” He tone is joking, but only slightly.

“She’ll be skeptical for about an hour after I hang up the phone with her, but if I’m happy then she’s happy.”

“If you want me to come with you on Monday, I’ll call the airline.” He promises, knowing that he owes you a lot more than just a potentially awkward first meeting with your mother. “What time is your flight?”

“Eleven in the morning.” Your eyes tick up to his, concern lining the edges of joy. “That’s not too soon? Too dramatic? We were literally just talking about where to live together and how many kids we want.”

“I’ll be on that flight.” He promises, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “Just gotta make sure D.C. knows how to get ahold of me.”

“I’ll write down my phone number for you.” A promise, as silly as it is, that makes the thing seem all the more real. “I’ve been living with my mom again. It’s easier.”

“Would you rather I get a hotel room?” He asks. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No.” Shaking your head, you feel a little silly for it but you’re certain when you look back up at him. “I want to have you with me. We’ve wasted enough time apart.”

“You are staying here tonight.” He agrees. “Hopefully your brother won’t be worried about you. You left without saying anything.”

“I should probably call the hotel and leave a message,” you admit. “Michael is protective.”

Javi nods. “Do you want to go get your stuff?” He asks. “Or would you rather me stay at your hotel?”

“We can go get my stuff in the morning.” Right now all you care about is snuggling into his side. “I’ll call tonight but I just want to stay here with you.”

“You looked beautiful.” He murmurs softly. “Today. Everyday really, but you looked really beautiful today.”

“Not every day.” The tendency to deflect compliments is long ingrained, but from him they make your cheeks burn.

“Every day.” He repeats, not letting you even doubt that for a second. “You don’t see it? You have this…softness. Even when you have to be strong. A grace and kindness that is bone deep.”

“Softness has always been my issue,” you gripe, though you wave it away. “I’m just glad the diet is working. But…it’s very sweet of you.” Fucking hell you’re bad at taking compliments. “I always admired your resolve, honestly. And attention to detail. Even when it frustrated me it was still impressive.” That grin returns to your lips full force. “The broad shoulders and cut jaw line don’t hurt either.”

There’s a few inches of skin on your side that Javi pinches gently in his hand as he frowns at you playfully. “I love this softness.” He growls, leaning in and biting the bottom of your lip.

“I’m glad.” You laugh softly, never doubting that he means it. Not after everything. “Because two kids will mean plenty of softness.”

“That’s if you want to do that.” Javi says seriously. “If you don’t, I’ll understand.”

“Three always felt like my mom was chasing us.” You hate it but you have to sit up again. Calling Michael’s hotel before you sleep is nonnegotiable. “But being an only child sounds lovely. Two is good.”

“Compromise, is that what it sounds like?” Javi snorts. “You are the one that says how many kids you have.”

“Can I ask you something else?” It seems like the time, considering how honest and open you’re being with each other. And considering what you’ve already talked about tonight.

“You can ask me anything.” He promises, looking up at you. The cigarette is long since smoked, crushed out in the ashtray, but the intimacy and lingering closeness still hovers in the air.

“I just wondered.” It feels silly, but considering where you were today maybe it isn’t. “If you ever wanted to get married? Or if Lorraine spoiled that for you.”

He sighs softly, looking up at the ceiling while he thinks about what he wants to say. “I figured one day it would happen.” He admits. “I knew I should have been happy to marry her, back when I thought she was the one. But something never felt right and I twisted that into believing it wasn’t for me, but I thought I would eventually find someone.” He looks back at you and licks his lips. “But I’d marry you.” He nods.

“I’m not talking about a wedding.” Clarification seems important in this moment, even when the gentle affection in his expression is so real. “A marriage is a life together. A wedding? They’re nice but I don’t think they’re necessary.”

“You wouldn’t want something like today?” He asks curiously. “Family and friends?”

“Not if you wouldn’t enjoy it.” That is what matters to you most. A wedding is a great party but only if the couple both enjoy it when it happens. Otherwise it’s just parading around for a day in clothes you’ll only wear once. “I guess what I mean is that I never envisioned a big white wedding for myself so I wouldn’t be disappointed not to have it. What I care about is having a partner to spend my life with.”

“I don’t mind a wedding.” He has thought about that quite a bit, especially after one particularly vivid dream of you in a white dress. It had haunted him for weeks after having it and it was the closest he came to calling you after you left.

“That’s the road to getting my mother to love you.” It’s both the truth and a bit of teasing, and you don’t mind that. Not really. Not when you know that these conversations — this compromise — is a big and new step for the two of you. The two of you. As a couple. “You brought up kids first and you’re the one who wants a wedding. You’ll be her favorite son instantly.”

He snorts. “I’ll make sure that I bring that up.” He jokes, even though he will follow your lead on interacting with your mom. “Pop will love you. And he thinks it’s funny as hell that you are just as stubborn as me.”

“The universe decided it would be cruel to give us anything less than a taste of our own medicine.” A taste that you deal with a gentle, loving kiss. “I should call the hotel. Before I forget or get distracted by my soulmate some more.”

“You do that.” He smacks your ass when you start to get up and smirks when you whirl around and glare at him. “Got a phone on the dresser.” He points out. “Don’t even have to get dressed.”

“Helpful.” You send that smirk right back at him and shake your head, then cross his room to make the call. To your surprise, your brother actually picks up when the front desk transfers you to the room.

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll pick you up.” Your brother rushes out, obviously worried when he came back to the room to find you not there. “Why the hell did you leave without saying anything?”

“I’m so sorry.” Turning back to look at Javi, you cringe apologetically. “But I’m fine. I left with Javier.” The man himself is lying in bed watching you with hooded eyes and you bite your lip. “I’m gonna stay here tonight and come get my stuff from the hotel in the morning, okay?”

“Javier? The guy you were kissing on the dance floor?” His voice ticks up in surprise but he’s relieved that you are okay. You are a grown ass woman, but your time in Colombia and him coming so close to losing you had made him a little protective. “Some chick named Lorraine was going around telling people that he and you are soulmates.”

“We are, Mickey.” The childhood nickname has been on the shelf for a lot of years, but your voice softens with affection — both for him and for Javi. “I had no idea, but your buddy Danny is his cousin.”

If you could see his face, you would laugh at him and call him a fish, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “You— he’s your soulmate?” He asks, sure that he had misheard or you are yanking his chain. “Are you sure?”

"I'm sure." He must be in shock if he isn't teasing or needling you for details, but you can understand that. "Remember before the wedding, I told you he was from here? I wasn't specific. We're literally in his hometown."

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t put it together. I couldn’t imagine when you said Javier you meant Javier.” He frowns, trying to remember what the guy looks like, “He kind of looks like Burt Reynolds, right?”

You snort at the comparison but nod, not bothering to hide your giggles when you look right at Javier and agree. "Yeah, I guess he does kind of look like Burt Reynolds."

He rolls his eyes at you and flips you off, although there is a tiny edge of a smirk on his face. Burt Reynolds had done this pose on a bear skinned rug a few years ago, so Javi flips onto his side and cups his cock while he poses like Burt had while laying across the bed.

When you burst out laughing your brother grunts in confusion, and you have to dismiss it away quickly. "Nothing, nothing," you assure him through laughs. "Javi just flipped me off for the comparison." After a few seconds you calm down again, and shift the phone on your shoulder. "Listen, I'm...I'm gonna call Mom tomorrow. Javi's going to come home with us on Monday to meet her and see the old neighborhood."

“Wow.” He sounds impressed but he agrees. “Sure. I won’t say a word. I just came back to the hotel to change and check on you anyway. Be safe.” He tells you and then murmurs your name. “I love you.” He promises. “And I’m happy you are spending time with your soulmate.”

"I love you too, Mickey. Go have fun with your friends and we'll see you around noon tomorrow so you can sleep off whatever bullshit you get into with your buddies tonight." A round of good nights punctuate the phone call before you hang up and slide back across the room, ready to climb back in bed with Javier. "Lorraine was talking about us after we left," you tell him, smirking. "Everybody in Texas already knows we're soulmates, apparently."

He hadn’t expected anything less, but he shifts to sit up. “Does that upset you?” He asks. “Lorraine was probably trying to spin it, or claim some hand in us finding each other.”

"Baby, she can shout it from the rooftops and I'll just repeat it with pride." You climb onto the mattress and snuggle into his side happily. "I love you."

He softens, folding you against his side. His arm wraps around your back and hums happily. “I love you too, sweetheart.” He repeats back to you, feeling a long yearned for sense of peace as you lay with him.

******

"I know my mom is going to want to feed us as soon as we get back to the house but I swear I'm still full from breakfast." Groaning slightly as you get off the plane, you lean into Javi's side and sigh. Chucho had made you and the boys a big 'going away breakfast' before you left for the airport this morning and even though it was early, everything is bigger in Texas.

“I swear that I’ve never seen that man cook as much as he had for you.” Javi snorts as he shoulders the bag that you had wanted to bring on the plane. His own bag was checked along with your other bag. Guiding you towards the baggage claim.

"Dad used to do the same thing." Michael tells him, trailing just a pace or two behind. He pokes your shoulder and grins. "This one brings out the caretaking instinct in fathers."

“Pop was thrilled to meet her. And it’s been a long time since there was a woman in the house.” He smiles as he takes your hand. “He wanted to make a better impression than me.”

"I promised to take Polaroids while we're up here. He wants to see New England, too." Javier's father had taken to you immediately and without question, and you had relished the opportunity to warm up to your soulmate's father. "I think I'm going to put together a Rhode Island care package to bring to him when we go back to Texas."

“He would love that.” He had enjoyed watching his father fuss over you and how you had responded to the fatherly presence. It had been a long time since Chucho had someone to fuss over and you both seemed to enjoy it. “The man loves gifts, no matter how much he protests.”

“I am not above bribing my future father-in-law for his affection,” you half-joke, though just the sentence makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

“You don’t have to bribe him.” Javi promises. “He might have already put you in his will and written me out.” He had laughed when he had seen how thrilled Chucho was with you, although it had choked him up when the older man had pointed out how like his mother you are.

"Makes sense." The grin on your face is unapologetic, and you keep close to Javi's side as Michael goes hunting up and down the conveyor belt to find his own suitcase. "My mother will love you that much, too. We're just trading parental affection."

He chuckles. “He does know the luggage will come to us, right?” He asks, watching your brother in amusement.

“Impatience is a family trait,” you tell him, entirely unphased by Michael’s unnecessary pursuit. You’re used to it by now.

“I’m not even that bad.” Javi snorts and rolls his eyes. The past couple of days have included both interrogation by your brother and teasing. He hadn’t had the heart to tell the Marine that he’s done more intense interrogations than he would ever dream of.

Leaning into his side again, you put one arm around Javi’s waist and kiss his cheek. “The most patient thing anyone in our family has ever done was the years I waited to see you again.”

“Then I don’t know if I’m impressed or insulted now.” He teases, smirking when you pout at him and lean in to press his lips to yours.

“Be impressed.” You murmur, grinning against his lips when your brother clears his throat.

Javi glances over your shoulder, still kissing you and he smirks when he sees the way he’s shifting uncomfortably. Like it’s strange that you are kissing someone.

"Okay, I'm gonna go find Mom." He says finally, when he has shifted his feet enough times to catch Javier looking at him and knows he's being intentionally needled at.

Reluctantly pulling away from your soulmate, you snag your suitcase that has somehow appeared at your feet — Michael's searching probably — and thread your fingers through Javier's. "We'll all go, don't get your tighty-whities in a twist."

Javi spies his own bag and grabs it, throwing it over his shoulder. “We’re all set.” He promises, shrugging slightly at your brother.

"She said she'd be at arrivals with the car. We should be able to find her easily." You might walk a little faster out of enthusiasm, but that's alright. Your mother was already talking about what she was going to cook to welcome Javier to the family before you hung up the phone with her yesterday.

It’s amusing that you are almost outpacing him, picking up speed and he has to shuffle a little faster to keep up with you. “Excited?”

"Maybe." And you aren't apologetic for it in the least, inhaling the cool autumn air the second you walk out the door between the two men. It only takes a second of scanning the curb full of parked cars to spot your mother and you tug Javier in her direction immediately. "Mom!" She's parked almost all the way down, so you wave and hustle along with Javier and Michael laughing behind you.

Your mother looks like you, or – you look like her. Both of you falling into the hug like it’s been years rather than days since you’ve last laid eyes on each other. “Are they always like this?” He asks Michael.

"Yeah." Your brother nods, shifting his bag to his other hand. "Since she got back, anyway."

Javi sighs softly, knowing that some of that is his fault and he tries to not let the pang of guilt bring down the mood in this first meeting.

There is whispering between you and your mother, but it only takes a few moments before you step back and your mother is walking out toward the two men like a woman on a mission. Without a single second of hesitation, she wraps Javier up in a welcoming hug and holds on tight. "I'm glad to finally meet you." She says close to his ear, because there is no other place for her to speak.

He is surprised by the warm greeting, but his own arms lock around her and he hugs her back. “It’s my pleasure.” He promises. “You have one hell of a daughter.”

"Don't I know it." There is a smile on her face when she draws back, but her hands stay on Javier's shoulders and seriousness in her eyes. "Thank you for making sure she came home to me safely. From the bottom of my heart."

“I was going to at least give her that.” He hums. “Even if we weren’t together then, she was important to me. Her safety was important, and her happiness.”

"Okay, guys..." Wiping away a bit of silent water from under your eyes, you basically flail your hands at your mother and soulmate to urge them to save this heartfelt moment for someplace more private. "Maybe we should go back to the house? Before I get all choked up over here."

Your mom agrees and pulls back and reaches for the handle of your bag, but Javier shakes his head. “I’ve got it.” He insists.

"She said you were a gentleman." Your mother beams. "Come on, guys. Everybody pile in, I've got a lasagna in the oven and your Uncle Carmie dropped off wine last night."

He follows your lead and trails after you as you walk beside your mom, already chatting intensely and it’s interesting to see how open you are with her.

You pile into the backseat with Javier and let your brother sit up front, returning to that new habit you’ve found of leaning into his side whenever you are next to your soulmate. “The drive isn’t long,” you promise him, bucking your seatbelt just before your mother pulls into traffic. “Nothing is too far apart here.”

“That doesn’t bother me.” He has lived in cities and on the ranch where the earnest neighbor was three miles away. Both of them have their pros and cons and he is adaptable. If you wanted to live here, he would grumble when he shoveled snow but he would do it. Couldn’t be much different from shoveling manure.

“The old joke is that if you have to drive more than a half an hour in Rhode Island, that’s a day trip and you have to pack a lunch,” your mother jokes from the front seat. “I imagine Texas is a different animal altogether.”

He snorts. “You can drive all day and still not be out of the state.” He tells you. “If you only drive half an hour, it’s just a quick trip to town.”

“Exactly.” Your mother laughs, putting her attention back on the road. “We’re the smallest state with the biggest attitude.”

“I’m learning that.” Javi hums, winking at you and then looking back out the window.

******

It really doesn't take long to get home again, and you give Javi the complete-if-brief tour of your house ending in your bedroom. It's a huge relief now that you've redecorated since high school. Javi did not need to see all your old heartthrob posters up on the walls.

“She seemed to like me.” He sets your bag down and puts his own beside it, looking around your room. Honestly a little surprised that he has been put with you, he had expected to sleep in a guest room and have to sneak into your bed.

"That's because I was honest with her about the fact that I wouldn't have survived the kidnapping if you hadn't worked your ass off to find me." You take a second to dig out a sweater for an extra layer before tucking yourself into his side, but the warmth from him is better than the sweater you found anyway. "I figured we could tell her the rest together. But she knows you saved my life, Javi. Nothing could make her not like you after that."

"You would have survived." Javi is sure of that now. He might have been a hair's breath away from unravelling then, but now he is completely sure of the fact that you would have found some way to escape. "I know you would have. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Who knows what would have happened." Exploring the possibilities was important in therapy, but the fact is that he did save you, and you will forever be grateful to him for that. "What matters is that we're both here now."

“We are here.” He smirks. “In your childhood bedroom.” He will definitely be making a few fantasies that he’s entertained since planning this trip come to life.

“That doing something for you, hermoso?” The twist of his lips and raise of his eyebrow isn’t just teasing anymore. You know that look now. It’s a promise.

“Have you ever fucked in here?” He asks, voice dipping down lower, something he’s discovered makes you wet. His arms slide around your back and his groin presses firmly into you. “Or have you just fingered that pretty cunt in this bed?”

“Fuck, Javi—” You have to swallow the rest of your groan so you don’t get carried away, but your arms are up around his neck instantly and you all but purr in his arms. Squirming has the added benefit of rubbing your torso against him and you grin when his smirk flickers in arousal. “No, I haven’t fucked in here yet. You offering?”

“’Course I am.” He snorts, making his cock twitch on purpose. “We can unpack later.”

“Defiling my childhood innocence first thing?” The leering look in his eyes is tinged with sweet affection, though, which makes you grin. “I like it.”

He chuckles, tilting his head to press his lips to yours, enjoying that soft welcome that comes every time. You lean into him, want him just as badly as he wants you and it’s quickly becoming his new obsession.

It’s not more than ten minutes from start to finish, but you’re panting and giggly, wrapped around him when he pulls you back into his arms after wrecking both of you with seemingly little effort. “That’s how long it takes to unpack, right?” You snicker, stealing more kisses before you bother to get redressed.

“Didn’t see you complaining.” He huffs, but he’s grinning back at you. “Sometimes quickies are the best kind of fucking.”

“I would not complain.” One more kiss and you have to pull up your pants, otherwise you’ll just drag him into that bed again. “If I ever complain, take me to a doctor because I’ve been body-swapped.”

“That would be a damned shame too.” He reaches out and slaps your ass playfully. “Happen to like this body, and the attitude that’s in it. When she’s not yelling at me.” He teases, winking at you with a smirk.

"I haven't yelled at you once in the last few days." You smirk, returning the ass smack with a sharp crack of your hand and that has both of you raising impressed eyebrows. "Screaming your name is different."

“You can scream my name as loud as you need to, sweetheart.” Javi chuckles and waggles his eyebrows playfully. The past few days have been filled with lighthearted banter and teasing, making him feel younger than he has in years.

“Later.” It’s a promise. Set in stone. And you toss him a wink before getting redressed. “We should go back down, cariño. I think I finally burned off enough of what your dad fed us for breakfast to be hungry for lunch.”

“Then let’s go get something to eat.” He agrees, holding out his hand for you to take. He likes touching you, loves it actually. It’s reassuring and calming for him to touch you. It’s like the part of him that he didn’t know was aching while you were gone is now soothed and repaired when his fingers caress your skin.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” In the doorway of your old room, holding hands with your soulmate, you bite your lip out of nerves.

“You can ask me anything.” The lightheartedness has morphed into something sober, but he doesn’t waver, holding your gaze.

“If you don’t want to have the conversations with my family about marriage or kids or the big future things, it’s totally fine. Everything has happened really fast. So if you only want to tell them about moving to be together, that’s okay with me.” It’s not exactly a question, the way you phrased it, but the thought tumbles out without editing and you hold tight to his hand for certainty. You’re not trying to wiggle out of anything, but rather saying that you’ll take things at his pace.

“Baby,” Javi turns towards you and he caresses your face with his free hand, still holding tight to your other one. “I’ll answer any question that they want to ask.” He promises. “Most of them are yours to answer anyway.” He reminds you. “You decide when you want to get married, or be pregnant.”

"I just don't want you to feel rushed. Or pressured." You clarify, leaning into his chest to hug him tight.

“I’ve had my entire life to wait for this moment.” He assures you. “I’m not feeling rushed, sweetheart. I think we need to be right here.”

"I love you." More than you thought you could. More than you ever expected to. So much that it feels like it's filling up your chest and you hope it never stops.

******

"There you two are." Your mother has the entire table filled with food when you come downstairs, exactly as you predicted, and you give Javi's hand a squeeze as if told say 'I told you so'.

"Sorry, I was showing Javi some old photos after we unpacked," you lie, neatly brushing away the extra time you were upstairs. And making a mental note to show him some high school photos later.

"Hmmmm." The sound that she makes is one of amused disbelief but she doesn't call you out directly. Instead, she motions towards the seats. "Come on, let's eat." She insists.

"So this is what it takes to get you to make lasagna, huh?" Instead of lingering on the question or her obvious disbelief, you trend straight toward teasing — as is your entire family's custom. "One of your kids has to bring home their soulmate to make it happen?"

“Figured it was as good a time as any.” She swats at you playfully and looks towards Javier. “Do you drink wine?”

"Uncle Carmie's homemade basement hooch is an acquired taste, Ma," you laugh, but reach to grab the bottle from the counter anyway before you sit down. "Try some of mine, babe. If you like it, then pour a glass for yourself."

“We made bathtub hooch in high school.” Javi snorts, looking at the bottle and pouring himself some instead of trying yours like you suggested. If he doesn’t like it, he’ll just have the one glass.

"Brave man." Michael snorts, already digging into lunch and bypassing the salad bowl to serve himself a large slice of lasagna. "That shit will put hair on your chest."

"Language, Michael." Your mother warns. "We have a guest.”

Javi chuckles. “I’ve said worse things.” He promises her. “Nothing he says will surprise me.”

"I didn't raise my babies to be crass." She insists, luckily paying more attention to passing the plate of garlic bread than she is to your face and missing the doubtful expression to shoot Javi and your brother. "So, Javier, what an unexpected weekend!"

“It has been surprising,” he admits, looking over at you with a small smile. “But I don’t think that it’s been unwelcome for either one of us.”

"Not at all." You can agree to that wholeheartedly. "It feels very...meant to be."

“I honestly don’t know if I would have had the nerve to call her if she hadn’t shown up at the wedding.” He tells your mother honestly.

"I think it's very sweet that you found each other again by accident." Once everyone is served, only then does your mother tuck in. The four of you have plenty of space at the big, round dinner table but it doesn't feel like you're far apart or that the table is crowded. It just feels comfortable. "The powers that be knew it was time to nudge you back together."

Javi looks down at the meal as been dished up, it looks delicious. “Thank you.” He tells her. “It looks amazing. Your daughter is also one hell of a chef so I know this will be great.”

“She takes after her father.” Your mother beams at that. “I do my best, but she’s got his talent.”

The praise is kind, but you shrug slightly and fork up a perfect bite before throwing Javi a grin. “Chucho promised to teach me Southern cooking, so I’m combining Dad powers.”

“Dad has all of my mom’s recipes.” Javi explains. “Although most of them haven’t been used since she got sick.”

“It can be hard to reopen those old memories. Food carries such nostalgia.” Your mother smiles gently, having known already from your stories about your soulmate that he had lost his mother years ago. “I’m sure she would be proud, just like my husband would be, to see her recipes handed down to the next generation.”

“She would have loved your daughter.” Javi snorts, looking over at you with a fond smile. “And encouraged you to give me hell at every opportunity.”

"That she gets from me," your mother laughs, grinning as you and your brother just shake your heads and continue to eat.

"We figured out early on that Texas stubborn and New England stubborn are pretty similar," you tell her when you finish your bite. "Which is why we butted heads early on. I'm glad we got that phase out of the way early on."

“I’m sure that there will be plenty of head butting left.” Javi has no illusions that life together would be a walk in the park. Neither one of you are built that way.

"Of course." That is the more realistic way of approaching it, you're just feeling really good about the situation right now and it's making you feel rosy. "But at least we'll talk to each other when that happens now. Instead of stonewalling or just getting mad."

“That’s right.” He nods and winks at you before looking back at your mother. “I know you have a lot of questions for me.”

“I might.” She laughs though, appreciating the acknowledgment, and then laughs again when you wave your hand to tell her to go ahead. “Well,” she sips her wine and considers the man at her table. He’s older than you but not by too terribly much. Certainly handsome, but looks as though he has been through a lot. Like the edges of his smile are etched with concern that it might all be too fleeting. Poor dear. He needs a partner. “Have the two of you talked about how you’re going to manage this yet?” She asks, motioning between the two of you.

“To be completely honest….” Javi glances back at you and then looks towards your mother again as he taps the table. “I’m not sure where I stand professionally.” He admits, knowing that it wouldn’t help him get in your mother’s good graces, but it’s the truth. “I am waiting to hear from Washington.”

“Basically, Mom?” You set your fork down for a moment and offer Javi a reassuring smile. “We’re talking about living together being the next step, but we won’t know where until Javi hears from work.”

“I see.” She wonders what he might have done, but she doesn’t ask. “And hopefully there will be a guest bedroom wherever this might be for visitors?”

“Of course.” She isn’t being immediately critical or insistent that you move near her, so you’re ready to agree to just about anything. “No matter where we end up, there will be space for guests.”

“Good.” She will have to be satisfied with that. And hopefully with Javier being in trouble at his job, that will mean that he won’t go back to Colombia. Although, why would he? Escobar is dead.

“There’s no way to do it easily,” you point out to your mother gently. “With both of our families being so far apart.”

“I understand.” She might have broken down crying after the phone call, both in relief that you have been reunited with your soulmate and the fear of losing you again. She won’t tell you that. For too long you had tried to pretend Javier hadn’t existed and that Colombia was a bad dream, now you look happy. She’s not doing to put a damper on that for anything in the world.

“It’s alright, Ma.” Michael jokes, trying to relieve the tension at the table. “Your boys are still homebodies.”

“You never would leave if you wouldn’t get thrown in the brig.” She huffs at her son, but she is happy for how much they love their home.

You glance over at Javi, squeezing his knee under the table in silent question, and smile again when he returns your query with a little nod. Just like upstairs, he reassures you that it's okay to tell. To share the things you've talked about. "If we end up anywhere without four seasons, we're going to have to come home for the holidays at least a few times," you tell your mother, unable to suppress any of the warmth and joy in your expression. "I know you won't let your grandkids go without at least a few white Christmases."

“Babies?” Her eyes widen dramatically and she lights up like a Christmas tree herself. “You’re talking kids?”

There is the excitement you knew was lurking beneath the surface. You know it will be bittersweet for her to have you leave again, but good things are looming in the future. "Not right away," you caution her, but can't help grinning along with your mother. "But yes. We're talking about kids."

“You will make such beautiful babies together.” She sighs happily, emotional and even having to wipe away a stray tear.

"You pressed the grandma button." Michael snorts and helps himself to a second piece of lasagna. "But that means I get to be the favorite uncle, right?" He eyes Javier and raises one eyebrow. "Do you have any brothers, Jav?"

“No.” It’s unusual but he shakes his head. “I’m an only child.” He admits with a sigh. “My parents had a lot of loss early on in pregnancies. So after mama gave birth to me, they decided they were done. Pop didn’t want to risk her health.”

“Which makes perfect sense.” You squeeze his hand gently on top of the table, fingers tucked into fingers, as if that little gesture could possibly tell him that he is enough. That his family is just the right size as it is. “Our kids will already have two ridiculous uncles. That is plenty.”

“I never felt alone.” He tells you quietly. “Too many cousins for that.” He knows you will feel a little sad for him, but you shouldn’t.

“I know, cariño.” His childhood was different from yours, which doesn’t make it better or worse in any way. It just makes it different. “And if you ever catch me implying that it was, just remind me that you have more cousins than I do.”

He smiles at you, understanding completely and reaches for his glass to take a sip of the wine.

“Will there…” Your mother clears her throat in that pointed way only parents can. “Be a wedding, before there are babies? That’s the old fashioned order, I’m told.”

“Unless there’s a change in plan.” He has to admire how blunt your mother is. “My father would beat me black and blue if it was the other way.”

“Glad your father and I are on the same page.” She hums, smirking with something like victory.

He cuts his eyes over at you and gives you an amused look, very aware of the plans your mother is already making. “So we were thinking of eloping.” He announces, just to see what she would say.

The unceremonious squawk that comes out of her mouth is pure shock, you know that, but the way her jaw hits the floor and her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates has you bursting out laughing and all but clinging to Javi’s arm to jerk from falling out of your chair.

“Calm down, Mom,” you wheeze through laughter. “He’s fucking with you.”

Javi chuckles and shrugs. “She bet me twenty dollars I wouldn’t tell you that.” Michael thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard and slaps Javi on the shoulder.

“I’ll buy you dinner.” You huff, rolling your eyes at him but glad that the boys are entertaining each other.

“You cannot elope.” Your mother gasps and Javi wonders if she actually heard you say it was a joke or if she was too busy having an aneurism. “We aren’t.” He promises. “We will do it right.”

“Javi wants to have a wedding.” Offering up that information seems so important now that you practically hand it to your mother on a platter. “We won’t elope, we promise.”

“I’ve had one failed trip to the altar.” He admits, being honest with your mother seems like a good thing to do. Especially since you and her are close. “My ex-fiancée tricked me into thinking we were soulmates. I found out the night before the wedding.” He sighs. “It put me off of the idea for a long time, but I want to marry your daughter.”

“Is this…” Your mother looks at you curiously.

“The woman telling everyone about us now? Yeah.” You shrug to Javi. “I told her about meeting Lorraine on the phone.”

“She’s been around for a long time.” Javi sighs. “Small town life and all.”

“Oh, I know all about that.” Your mother nods as if she suddenly understands the situation perfectly. “My sister-in-law is the queen of small town gossip. Up here at least. They would probably be dangerous together.”

“I don’t mind people knowing.” Javi shrugs again. “So I didn’t try to keep her from running her mouth.”

"No, it's definintely not a secret." Not anymore. Not this time around. Not when you've well and truly learned your lesson about keeping your mouth shut when you care about someone. You will never abstain from telling Javi you love him again. "I'd shout it from the rooftops here and in Texas."

Javi chuckles and smirks at you. “Really? From the rooftops?”

His challenge only makes you grin and you nod emphatically. “Pick some rooftops if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” He promises. “But I don’t think it’s necessary. I know you love me. And I’d do anything for you.”

“I’m glad we agree.” You murmur, leaning over at the table to kiss him softly. The smallest, gentlest show of affection that actually means so much. The fact that you’ve learned to be gentle with each other is huge. It shows how far you’ve come, and so quickly too.

******

“Javier, uh, there’s a call for you.” The statement comes with a little bit of bewilderment, and Javi looks at you as he leans forward, unfolding his arm from where it was lying behind you on the couch. “Okay.” He stands up quickly, aware that two people have this number, his father and the secretary for the director of the DEA. Either way, a call for him has to be important.

Your mother has set down the telephone on the nearby kitchen counter in order to come into the living room where the television is on, and she sits down in her armchair on your other side when you don't get up to follow Javier into the kitchen immediately.

"Did it sound official?" You ask, wondering if Chucho is alright or if the calls he's been waiting for from Washington has finally come through.

“It was a woman.” She frowns slightly and glances back towards the kitchen. “Like a secretary or something.”

"His hearing." Sinking slightly in your seat seems like a reasonable reaction, but a moment later you're pushing off the couch to stand. "If it were his dad, you would still be in there chatting long distance. A secretary means the call is from Washington."

Javi turns as you walk into the kitchen, still listening as he motions you forward. “Wednesday at thirteen hundred.” He confirms, frowning slightly when he realizes that it will eat into his visit with your family. He will have to get the train to D.C. tomorrow to make sure he’s there on time. “Yes. Thank you.”

He opens one arm to let you close when he hangs up the phone, and you immediately slip to his side. "Wednesday." You repeat the day and tuck yourself in tight beside him. "I'll call and get out train tickets if you want to go pack."

He sighs softly, resting his cheek against yours and feeling a little nervous. He knows that they should fire him, but he doesn’t want to end his career with the DEA like this. “Do you want to come with me?”

"Of course I'm coming." There was never a doubt or question in your mind. "I'm not going to make you face this alone, baby. Especially not when you did it for me."

“Even if I am fired, I still have no regrets.” Javi promises, dropping a kiss on your lips gently.

"If you're fired then we'll go back to Texas with our heads held high, and you'll take that deputy job." You promise him, savoring that kiss and that promise like a lifeline. "I'm with you no matter what."

“No matter what.” It might be surprising to him, something he’s still accepting and getting used to, but he takes comfort in it. No matter what, he will have you.

******

"How long do you think we'll have to wait for them to deliberate?" Waiting outside the hearing room to be called back in feels like waiting for a death sentence, but you sit with your hands under your thighs and try not to fidget in your most-presentable office dress while Javi paces up and down the hallway.

Sighing, he resists the urge to rub his hand through his hair and ruin it. It’s already been hard enough to resist having a cigarette. Fuck, he needs one. “The rest of my life.” He growls, glancing back at the door impatiently.

"At least we're on the same page." You agree, sighing outwardly and silently wishing for the same two things as him — an answer and a cigarette.

He glances back at you on his next pass down the hallway and sees you playing with your skirt. Walking over to the chair beside you and dropping down into it with a heavy huff. “Whatever happens, I’m not going to apologize for what I did.” He reminds you. “Kissing ass isn’t my style.”

"I don't expect you to apologize." No, you know him better than that. And you know the bastards in the government better than that, too. "I just wish I could go in there and start throwing punches at the assholes who preside over all the bullshit bureaucracy while they make everybody else do the dirty work."

“Fucking bastards.” He grunts, glancing back at the door again. “I should tell them to kiss my ass.”

"Aw, c'mon." You squeeze his hand, aiming a lurid grin at him to try to distract him for even a second. "That's my job."

He snorts and shakes his head. “You haven’t done it yet.” He points out, smirking slightly.

Glad that your strategy worked even for a second, you wink and blow him a kiss. "Tonight," you promise, glossing it in a sultry tone that makes both of you laugh.

The door to the room opens and Javi’s face immediately shifts into something serious. Whipping his head around to watch as a bureaucrat in a well-cut suit and a fresh haircut sticks his head out. “Peña,” he calls. “We’re ready for you.”

You squeeze his hand tightly before letting go so he can straighten, and silently curse the whole bullshit process one more time as he disappears behind the hearing room door. You aren't allowed in there despite having played a role in the whole thing, and so you're stuck outside listening at the door for at least a little bit longer.

Javi sees a panel of five in front of him and he knows that it’s not good. He’s rubbed some the wrong way, especially since Messina is one of the five. He had ignored her orders more than once in the pursuit of Escobar.

It's a bureaucratic lecture as much as a hearing. A spanking laced with backhanded compliments. It's a clusterfuck of blame gaming and backpedaling. It's the kind of bullshit that would have had you snapping at someone if you were in here with him so he is belatedly glad that you have to wait outside.

Right up until those few magic words: "Agent Peña, how much do you know about the Cali Cartel?"

******

An hour later, Javier opens the door, stepping back out onto the hall with a slightly stunned expression on his face.

"What happened?" He doesn't look upset, but you still shoot up out of your seat instantly.

He had been looking down at the file in his hand and when you say something, he looks up at you. Suddenly wondering if this might be too much for you. “I— got a promotion.” He manages.

"What?" Your jaw drops and eyebrows shoot up to your hairline.

He rocks his jaw for a moment and steps over to you. Frowning slightly. “I shouldn’t take it.” He murmurs quietly, hearing the door open behind him and the panel file out of the room, chattering to themselves.

"Do you want to take it?" It seems ludicrously obvious to you that he should take it, in fact, but Javi is not always a straightforward man.

“More than anything, but….” He sighs softly and reaches up to cup your cheeks. “I’ll walk away if you want me to.”

"Why the hell would I want you to do that?"

“I have been made station chief of Bogotá, Colombia.” He reveals softly. “Tasked with taking down the Gentlemen of Cali.”

"Shit." It feels for a second like you've been kicked in the chest by Chucho's work horse, but the swirling confusion around you settles to a sting in mere moments. "So...we're going back?"

He sees the panic that races across your face, the fear flashing in your eyes. He wants this. He wants to prove that he can do it, that he can complete his mission and take them down, but he won’t do it at your expense. “Not if you don’t want to.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell you to stay behind, but he knows you will reject that idea completely.

It takes a long second, but when you rest your hand on his wrist and feel the warmth of him flood you — the safety of him — you remember how to breathe. "I won't do anything stupid this time," you promise him without a hint of sarcasm or teasing. "If you say I need security, I need security. And I'm not taking any shitty jobs in dodgy parts of town."

“Are you sure?” He worries and it shows in his eyes, not caring that his superiors see him with you like this. They know the connection – now – and it’s already been determine that he would have secure housing for you and him. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to make yourself go if you can’t.” As badly as he wants this, he would never make you relive that time.

“I love you, too.” That is what he’s saying. Through the worry and the negotiation, he’s saying how much he cares, and that means the world to you. So you take a deep breath. “Escobar is dead. Whatever the new threat is…I know you can deal with it. And I’d rather try and go with you than just hide in my fear forever. If it’s too much, I’ll come back to the States and we’ll rack up a hell of a long distance bill.”

“Okay.” He watches you closely, looking for any hesitation. “We’ll be staying in a high security building.”

“I’m proud of you.” It’s so important that he know that. That he understands this is a huge victory and that you don’t let it be overshadowed by what happened years ago. “You’ve worked your ass off and you deserve the recognition.”

“We’ll see.” He snorts. “It’s more responsibility, and I’ll be more hands off.” That part will drive him crazy, not leading the investigation himself.

"You'll have office hours?" It sounds almost entirely foreign coming from a man you know used to burn the candle at every available end. "And I would be waiting for you at home...how very Donna Reed of us."

He chuckles. “Well you can always work on those family recipes and go get your hair done and have lunch.” He shrugs. “Whatever the wives do.”

"Maybe that's the first book. A family cookbook." You laugh slightly, in disbelief at how ordinary it sounds. "So when do we leave?"

Javi grimaces slight and bites his lip. “A week?” He asks. “They wanted me to leave in two days but I told them I needed a week.”

"Okay." That gets a nod from you, and you grasp his hands tightly. "We'll get train tickets to go back to Rhode Island tonight and I'll pack up, then we'll fly back to Laredo so you can pack, too? See Chucho again for a few days and then we'll fly back to Colombia from Texas?"

“That works for me if it works for you.” He hums, wondering if you are putting on a brave face or if you are just this strong.

"I'll look up Inez after we get settled." You decide, grateful for a moment to lean against him when he opens up one arm to let you into his orbit. He's worried. You know that. And you're worried too. But it took until the prospect of being apart from him again to realize that the bond between you is a hell of a lot stronger than your fear. "We'll make it work."

He almost asks if you will see about finding Vanessa and Freckles, but he doesn’t. He can’t ask that question, not right now. He nods. “It would be good for you to have someone.” He murmurs.

“I’ll do my best to make friends with the other wives,” you promise, but you know it might be futile. You’re probably going to struggle with the traditional role expected of you, but you’ll get the important things right. Being there to support him is the most important part. “There’s…no chance Steve and Connie will be there with us, I guess?”

“They are in Miami.” He tells you, shaking his head. “Family is there and they have Olivia.”

“Yeah.” It was a long shot and you knew that, so you just nod. “I didn’t think so. That’s okay. They earned their rest. You still have some serious ass to kick.” A warm, soft, fierce smile curves up the corners of your mouth, etched with pride and determination. This may not be your fight from the outside, but you have some personal demons who need to get squashed in the process.

******

“Sweetheart?” The man who would never pass up a chance to eye a beautiful woman barely looks at the young stewardess as she asks if there’s anything else he needs after delivering his drink. Glancing over at you to make sure you haven’t changed your mind about just wanting water. “Anything else?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” At some point later you might ask for a snack but right now your water and the window seat are plenty enough.

“We’re good.” He turns back towards the slightly miffed looking woman with a nod, but doesn’t smile at her as he dismisses her.

You huff a laugh under your breath as she walks away and settle your hand over his knee in the tiny airplane seats. “You bruised her ego. Poor thing wanted to flirt.”

“Huh?” His brow furrows in confusion and he frowns as he tries to understand what you are talking about. Until he catches the woman moving out of the corner of his eye and glances over. “Oh. No.” He shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

“How was she supposed to know that?” You ask with a small grin. Commitment is a very sexy look on him.

He glances back at you, aware that you are teasing him and he shifts in his seat. He’s had time to think about a lot of things. Going back to Colombia is chance for him to prove himself, in more ways than one. “I – uh, I know that I’ve been— uh, a slut.” He grimaces slightly at the term, but it’s the truth. “But even Lorraine would tell you that I never— when we were together – I didn’t cheat.”

“Javi…” His choice of term does makes you crack a grin, but you still face him in your seat and take this moment as seriously as he is in giving it to you. “To be honest? It never even crossed my mind that you might. You were both a bit slutty before.” In Colombia, at least. You haven’t been since meeting him. “And now we’re committed. It’s a brave new world of monogamy for both of us.”

It’s like he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the relief is nearly physical. He wouldn’t blame you if he couldn’t satisfy your needs, it would honestly be kind of a fitting punishment for everything he’s done, but when you say monogamy he knows you mean it. “Yeah it is.” He nods.

“We can do it.” Seeing the relief on his face is almost like seeing it on your own, and you laugh a little and lower your voice. “We both have high sex drives. I’ll just come into the office so we can fuck on your lunch break.”

“Too bad you don’t still have that skirt you wore the first day I met you.” Now that that larger than imagined weight is off his chest, he smirks at you. Still imagining how you would have looked back then bent over his desk.

"I can easily get a new pencil skirt." In fact, now that you've lost a bit of weight, it will be that much easier to find nice things. "Should be a piece of cake now."

He frowns again and reaches for your hand. “The original was fucking sexy.” He promises. “I thought about bending you over my desk and didn’t know your name.”

The reassurance is sweet, and welcome, but you lean over to press a chaste kiss to his lips and grin. "And now you actually get to do it."

“Too bad it’s a full flight.” He chuckles. “Otherwise I might haul you into the bathroom on this tin can.”

"Save it." You nudge your nose against his. "We have a new apartment to christen."

“About that.” Javi shrugs slightly. “Station chief has its perks.” He tells you. “We are in penthouse accommodations. Views of the entire city.”

“Very fancy.” He’s told you about a few perks so far, including the fact that they’ve apparently assigned him a driver that you know he won’t use. Javi’s preference is always to drive himself — even visiting your family you gave directions from the passenger seat. “No jogging up three flights of stairs this time.”

“Thank fucking god.” Javi groans, leaning back in his seat. “I’m getting too old for that shit.”

"Just wait until it's kids we're running after." You sit back with him, grin still spread across your face. "That's a hell of a lot more running, cariño."

“Fuck.” He hisses. “Do you think those little assholes will run across rooftops too?”

"Not until they're older." Your laugh turns full and amused, but you link your fingers through his and smile. "I have a feeling at least one of them will grow up to be a stubborn badass like their dad."

“Fuck.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “I’ve never told anyone this….and I’ll deny I said shit— but I don’t like heights.”

"Well." Fingers squeezing his, you nudge his shoulder and grin. "Then I won't ask you to fuck me against the penthouse windows. Don't need you looking down and getting scared."

“Oh no, fuck that.” His eyes shoot open and he glares at you. “That’s happening.” He huffs. “I mean I don’t like running across a roof when I have don’t know if I’m going to fall through the mother fucker and kill myself. I’ll definitely fuck you against the window.”

You smother a snort, knowing that that comment would get to him but glad to see the fire in his eyes regardless. "I'm looking forward to it."

He huffs at you, fully aware that you had baited him and he had fallen for it. Cutting his eyes as he takes a sip of his drink, he passes it to you automatically after he swallows.

"Don't be sour." He's ordered a whiskey from the stewardess and the sip you take burns pleasantly on its way down before you hand it back. "It's my only penthouse-related fantasy. I just wanted to make sure it sounded good to you, too."

“I’m not sour.” He promises after a moment. “Do you want to read the file too?” He has no intention of leaving you out of anything.

"Am I allowed to?" It hadn't occurred to you that it would be permitted, what with government red tape and all.

“Yeah.” He nods as he reaches down and pulls the file out of his briefcase. “I’ve already told them you will be read in.” He shrugs. “They don’t care since you are my soulmate.”

"I guess that saves us from having to worry about talking shop at home." Although you have to wonder if they would still be so blase if you were still employed as a journalist. Probably not. Which is fair.

“They knew I was going to do it anyway.” He admits shamelessly. “Nothing that could possibly put you in danger will be kept from you.”

"Who knows." You shrug. The flight is just beginning and you settle in for the few hours it will take to get to your layover in Mexico City. "Maybe I'll be able to help? I guess we'll find out."

******

The keys rattle in the door before it swings open, revealing Javi. Carrying his suit jacket and another box of files, he shuffles into the house and closes the door behind him. He’s later than he said he would be, and he feels guilty when he smells dinner, obviously waiting on him. Hopefully you got sick of waiting for him and went ahead and ate. “I’m home.” He calls out.

"I'm in the kitchen!" When you heard the door you had hopped up from the dinner table to throw dinner back into the oven and you stretch your aching muscles by reaching for two glasses and the whiskey bottle as he drags himself in looking haggard. "Hey baby."

“Hey.” He’s frustrated and tired, but he shoots you a half smile, aware that you will understand that. “Sorry. I got caught up.” It’s not an excuse, but at least you didn’t have to call him to find out where he was – this time.

"I figured, so I put your portion of baked pasta in a separate baker. I just put it in the oven. C'mere and let me hug you." Your arms come around him once he puts the files down on the counter, holding him against you and letting the relatively simple act of holding him evolve naturally as it always does — into a deep kiss.

Javi leans into you, unable to articulate how much he has needed you and appreciated you being here this time. He has the physical connection he needs, the emotional one just as important and he can confide in you. Pour his worries out and he knows that you would never betray him. Being the station chief in charge of this ordeal has been far more difficult than he had even imagined and it seems like no one but him and his agents want the gentlemen of Cali behind bars.

"So you brought home some weekend reading?" You prompt, after he's melted into your arms and is limply hugging you back like he does on his hardest days.

“I honestly don’t know if I can fucking do this.” He sighs, pulling back and looking at you with a weary expression. “We are being stonewalled.”

"Of course you can do this." A little self-doubt is understandable, though, and you lead him over to the table to let him flop into a chair while you go back for the glasses and whiskey. "If this was going to be easy they could have had anyone sitting in your office just napping the day away. But they asked you. They asked the man that they knew could push through the hardest days and the pull the hardest punches." You set the glasses down beside him and pour both to join him. "We've been here almost a year, Jav. We're just barely cracking the surface. The whole thing getting hard as hell right before you find a crack in the case...it's annoying as fuck but it makes sense."

He snorts, even though you are right. “It’s almost annoying how good you are at this.” He grumbles, nodding his thanks for the drink and pulling you down into his lap.

"I'd like to think I've had a little practice by now," you admit, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Just like you've learned how to talk me down from my word count panics when I don't think I'm getting enough written to really count as a writer."

��Your book is going to be amazing.” When he needs a break from reports or the bullshit that comes with this case, he’s been reading your progressing first draft of your novel. Giving you his honest feedback and never complaining when you make him re-read a slightly changed chapter over and over again.

"I'm going to claw my way into the mystery genre with my bare hands." The two of you share a small laugh, another kiss, and a sip from the same glass before you lean your forehead against his gently. "Happy anniversary, by the way."

“Anniversary?” His brows furrow in confusion and his heart skips a beat with worry that he’s fucked up something bad.

"It's been four years since we met the first time." It isn't the anniversary of when you got together, or of when you first started living together, or any of the other things. But something small, and silly, and just for you. "It's not big, but it's worth marking."

“Oh shit.” He relaxes slightly and his fingers caress your side gently. “Yeah, it’s been four years.” In some ways, it seems like a lifetime ago, so much has changed.” That makes him think of something. “Did you ever send that letter to Helena?”

"I got back a postcard today." There is no need to hop up from his lap, thankfully, and instead you reach across the table to slide the glossy card out from under your notebook and hand it to him. "She's getting married. Apparently her soulmate was in the States the whole time. But she promises to write us a longer letter when they're back from their honeymoon in a few weeks."

“That’s good.” Probably the best news he’s heard in a long time and he picks up the card to look at the neat handwriting. “She deserves happiness.”

"She does." You can agree to that wholeheartedly. "I'm glad she found it."

He hums and leans in, pressing his face into your neck and breathing you in. “Just like we’ve found it.” He murmurs softly. “We should get married.”

"You gotta propose first, hermoso." It might only be a gentle tease, but you grin as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close. "Then I can say yes and we can get to planning."

Sitting in his button up shirt, his tie askew, Javier reaches into his pocket and pulls out the ring that he had taken out of the box earlier to inspect and shoved in his pants when Stetchner had come into his office uninvited. “You want me to get down on one knee?” He asks, holding it up for you to see. “Figured we could elope and not tell your mom. Let her plan the wedding and we just show up.”

"Javi!" The surprise of seeing an actual ring in his hand has you nearly falling off his lap but you hold on even tighter out of shock, just like thoughts start tumbling out of your mouth like they do when you get surprised. "No you don't need to get—did you really—how long have you been carrying that around for?"

“Picked it up two weeks ago?” He had been trying to think of something romantic, something fitting for your proposal, but everything seemed overkill. He showed you he loved you everyday, with the little things, not with overly elaborate proposals that could mean shit if he didn’t really want to commit. But right now seems like the right time. A very honest moment between the two of you.

"It's perfect." The ring, the moment — him — all of it. It's a standstill moment in time that could never have been manufactured and never could be duplicated. It's just for the two of you and it's perfect. You swoop in, needing to kiss him right now more than you need air.

He takes the kiss, easily, happily. Wrapping his arm around you and still holding up the ring, he lets the kiss drag on for a long minute before he pulls back with a smirk. “Is that a yes then?”

"Hell yes that's a yes." A giddy laugh bubbles out of you, and you can't help but steal one more, infinitely more chaste, kiss. "As soon as you want. We'll have to run back to the States for a weekend to actually have the wedding, but I'll let Mom plan whatever she wants and she'll be ecstatic."

“I thought you would like that.” The party is more of what Javier wants. The celebration. He doesn’t care if it’s in a church, although he’s sure that’s where it will be. And you will have already been married for however long planning the wedding takes, so you will get your way with wanting a marriage. “I love you, sweetheart.” He promises softly. “It’s fitting that our story started here and this is where we will make it forever.”

"I love you, too." He slides the ring onto your finger with satisfied pride and you don't bother blinking away the press of happy tears behind your eyes. They don't fall, you don't blubber, they're just there. Reminding you that the pounding of your heart is just as real as this moment. "I can't wait for whatever comes next."

------

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[deadlymistletoe]

Fears and Bandages

Pairing: Thranduil x F!reader

Request: @frustrated-kitten asked: I thought maybe I could request a Thranduil x FemReader where she returns with several injuries after fighting a bunch of spiders with Legolas and some other elves? Some small wounds, some more serious, but in the end she survives and everything goes well?

A/N: I hope it’s what you wanted - I was going to make it more angsty but this is what came out and it stuck.

Genre: slight hurt/comfort

Description: Thranduil’s composure cracks as he waits for you to come home from battling the spiders. He’s only able to put his fears to rest once he’s bandaged you up himself.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injuries. Stitches.

Word count: 1582

Thranduil’s foot tapped against the ground, fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest of his throne. Besides the two guards posted at the entrance to the room, the rest of his subjects were steering clear of him.

He didn’t blame them for avoiding him while he was like this - after all, had it been someone else fidgeting he would have been annoyed himself.

It was rare for the composed elvenking to fidget as he was, to betray any hint of apprehension, but today was the exception.

It was well known that there were two people on this earth that Thranduil would do absolutely anything to keep safe, and it just so happened that both of them had gone headfirst into a dangerous situation.

The first, his only son, Legolas. Since the elf had first looked up at him from his mother’s with those wide blue eyes Thranduil had known that he would do anything for him.

After his wife had died that feeling had only strengthened, as the meaning in his life centered around the elfling who was quickly becoming one of the realm's best archers.

For a long time, nothing had changed, until he met the second person he would come to care about more than he would have thought possible. You.

Thranduil had never even considered that he might love again after his wife passed, but then you’d come into his life and he’d found himself falling faster than should have. And he just knew that he couldn’t lose you too. History couldn’t repeat itself. He wouldn’t let it.

Of course, that was easier said than done since you, much like Legolas, continuously risked your safety to fight the spiders that continued to invade the Greenwood.

Thankfully for him, you’d stepped back from the danger once the two of you fell in love and you took to the role of Thranduil’s consort - soon-to-be-queen, but the latest nest was bigger than usual and the spiders began to get more bold so you’d insisted on joining Legolas for the raid.

So now Thranduil sat, fidgeting like an impatient elfling, waiting for news. 

He felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time - helpless.

Yes, Legolas had promised to make sure you both came back in one piece, but Legolas was also known for saying he was ‘fine’ when he had a gaping wound - Valar forbid he find out what his son’s definition of ‘one piece’ was.

Thranduil let out a frustrated sigh. He knew better than to doubt the abilities of you and his son, but sometimes he just couldn’t help but worry. After all, the last time his son had left the palace with a mother-figure, only one of them had come back - granted, that was when Legolas was a child with none of the skills he had now. But still.

He immediately straightened up, movements freezing when Galion ran up the steps leading into the room. “They’re back, my lord.”

Thranduil wasted no time making his way down the steps, Galion rushing to keep up with him as they made their way to the front gates. “Is everyone okay?” Are they okay?

“Everyone’s alive.” Those words were less reassuring than they should be. The mirkwood elves had a habit of using the term ‘alive’ rather loosely.

When he reached the entrance, those gathered around instantly parted for him to make his way towards the glimpse of pale hair he’d noticed through the crowd.

None of the patrol had been completely spared, that was certain, as scratches adorned each of their complexions, the darker blood of the spiders splattered over their uniforms.

Healers had already dispersed amongst the warriors, vials of antidote in hand just in case, and he was relieved to see that Legolas had no obvious signs of injury as he drew closer.

Legolas saw him coming and turned to meet him, voice low as he spoke. “There were more than we expected. We weren’t prepared, a second lot ambushed us after the fight had already started.”

Thranduil placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze - a show of affection that still kept a semblance of formality. “You did well.”

He hesitated, not wanting to brush his son off but at the same time needing to see you. Legolas saved him from asking, nodding towards where a healer was bent over a figure on a bench. You, he realized.

“She’s okay.” Legolas murmured. “Just a bit more cut up than the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ve been on guard to make sure she didn’t injure herself more running off to find you before the healers got to her.”

Thranduil’s lips twitched, holding back a smile as he made his way towards you, Legolas following behind.

It didn’t take long for you to look up at the familiar footsteps, a smile spreading across your lips despite the sting as the healer cleaned up a deep wound across your shoulder.

When the healer took her hands from you to rummage through her supplies you immediately took the chance to push yourself to your feet, moving around her and meeting Thranduil half way, his arms naturally finding their way around your waist as you stumbled slightly.

He smirked slightly looking over your shoulder. “I do believe Lothael is about to scold you for using her distraction to your advantage.”

Your healer, Lothael, had followed you, rolling her eyes. She gave Thranduil a wry look. “Yes, well, I can’t imagine that the king wants his queen-to-be to bleed out on the floor.”

Thranduil’s eyes quickly ran over your wounds, double-checking that you weren’t in imminent danger of bleeding out, and lingering on the deeper ones before looking back at Lothael. “I can take it from here, thank you.”

He knew that technically the healer had more better skills than him in the art, but at the same time, he also knew that the only way to completely reassure himself that you weren’t about to bleed out was if he did it himself - he needed to know that he’d checked and taken care of your wounds with his own hands.

It was only when the two of you had left the view of the other elves, leaving Legolas in charge, that you let yourself lean against the wall with a groan, the pain that had been throbbing in your leg since the adrenaline had worn off on the walk home forcing you to give it a break.

Thranduil, whose hand had been resting on your back, ready to steady you at any moment should you need it, gave you a worried look as you pulled away from him to use the wall as support.

“I’ll be fine,” You muttered, grimacing. “It’s just demanding a rest.”

Thranduil gave you a calculated look, and before you could say anything or even begin to wonder what he was thinking, he swept you off your feet, your arms automatically going around his neck as he carried you bridal-style down the hall.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, a smile crossing his own face at the sound. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down at you, a small smile dancing across his lips. “Why, I’m carrying to your chamber’s, my lady. Valar knows you’d collapse halfway there if I didn’t.”

You laughed before quieting down and leaning your head against his chest. “I’m tired, Thranduil.” You murmured, the toll today had taken on your body catching up to you.

He looked at you with a soft look reserved only for you. “I know, Meleth. You can rest soon.”

You sighed, staying silent as he reached your shared chambers and laid you on the bed, letting you sink into the silks and furs that covered the mattress.

You had started to drift off when you suddenly felt something cold seep into one of the deeper wounds, pressure keeping it there. You jerked away from the cold sting, but a hand held you in place, and you felt Thranduil’s silky hair brush against your skin as he lent over you to brush his lips against your forehead.

“I’m just cleaning them.” He murmured. “Relax.”

You let out a shuddering breath as he moved the cloth, a few tears slipping down the side of your face as he continued on to stitch the wound closed.

Your strong facade you’d kept up in the entrance and on the journey home hope had dissipated, as had your energy now that you were with the one you didn’t have to act strong for.

Thranduil whispered apologies and reassurances as he cleaned and bandaged the rest of your wounds with a gentleness that could only come from a lover’s hands, occasionally wiping the tears from your face and running his fingers through your hair at a particularly harsh sting.

It felt like hours later when the last wound was taken care of and you heard the quiet clink as Thranduil set the glass bottle of ointment aside.

He remained seated at your size, gentle fingers brushing over your face and hair as he gazed down at you, his own fears put aside now that he’d tended to you.

You held his gaze, relishing the cool touches until you felt your eyes begin to droop, and the last thing you were aware of was the feather-light lips that brushed against yours and the whispered, “Sleep, Meleth.” as you drifted off, Thranduil’s fingers soothingly carding through your hair.

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[gatorbites-imagines]

Hii! Hope you’re having a great day :D

I was thinking about Law with a tall male reader who looks very intimidating. everyone thinks that he is the top in the relationship but Law is the one who actually tops/? Like his s/o looks like a top but is actually a pillow princess. ;)

You can take this as a request or not if you want :3

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Tall male reader

Headcanons

Guten Abend everyone, still getting dragged over the studying coals, but fuck it we ball.

No outright smut in this one, mainly just focusing on their relationship since im exhausted, but I hope its still enjoyable.

In the One Piece universe, being tall can mean a lot of things. Being taller than Law just means you have to be somewhere over 6 ft 5, or taller, if that’s what you prefer. Being intimidating isn’t too hard either, especially if you are a fellow pirate.

Seeing you two together can be a little off-putting to the people around you, at least the ones that aren’t part of your crew, who know you two on a more personal level.

No one would dare to make assumptions in the beginning of a meeting, since Law already has quite the reputation, and either your scary aura or your own dangerous reputation makes people shut up. They might have ideas to themselves, but they wouldn’t verbalize it.

It probably comes up during an afterparty of some kind, after you guys have defeated the baddie of the week and you’re all kicking back. Since Law isn’t a big fan of drinking, you would end up being the one getting tipsy out of the two of you.

At some point during the night, Kidd or others who are more comfortable with you two, would start making jabs or ask questions, as one does when you get wasted. It becomes clear pretty damn quick though, that everyone thinks that Law is the one who bottoms.

Law isn’t the type to out your guy’s bedroom life, but I could still imagine him asking, in a bit of a tense tone, why they think that. That’s when you guys get the explanation from your allies and friends. But it all boils down to you being taller, bigger, scarier and with a stronger presence. So, it just made sense to them.

It gets a bit of a laugh from you, and you can tell from the tension in Laws jaw that it gets on his nerves, maybe even hurting his ego a little. But you also know your lover wouldn’t verbalize those thoughts, not wanting to admit something like an assumption of his bedroom role would hit him in any way.

When you guys get back to the polar tang, one would assume Law would drag you off to the bedroom to show you and him that your friends and allies’ assumptions were wrong. But Law is also a doctor, so he wouldn’t want to do such a thing when you’re drunk.

Instead, he gets some water in you, gets you something to eat, helps you get washed down if that’s what you need, and then the two of you conk out in bed, Law the big spoon even if you are taller. Hes like your tattooed backpack, if the height difference is big enough.

Law doesn’t end up making a move on you in the morning either if you suffer from hangovers, instead your lover would make sure you were alright, and get you something for the hangover if its bad enough. His ego may have been wounded a little, but he’s a respectful guy, especially to you as his lover.

That evening, or the day after though, you’re all his, not that you mind though. Seeing as all your crewmates are most likely still out partying or suffering from hangovers, you two have the polar tang all to yourself.

As you enjoy laying back and receiving pleasure without doing much in return, Law gets to do most of the work. He doesn’t need the same in return, as giving you pleasure is satisfying for him. Being in charge would feel quite nice for him, as it allows him to have an eye on the entire situation and what’s going on.

Law would definitely also use his devil fruit power when you guys are together, since it would make it easier for the both of you, and with his devil fruit he’s able to reach parts of you no one else can.

In the end, people you meet, and probably most of your friends and allies, think you are the top still, but Law wouldn’t mind too much after you show him that you don’t think lesser of him or let other people’s assumptions bother you or your relationship.

[ckret2]

Chapter 44 of human Bill Cipher wishing he was trapped in the Mystery Shack again:

The Eclipse: Part 2

Gravity is disappearing, and to find out why, Ford's inspecting the sites where the fabric of spacetime might have been damaged by Weirdmageddon. Dipper's glad to come along.

Bill really, really, really isn't.

"I am genuinely offering you helpful advice, that also happens to be self-serving because you idiots wouldn't trust me if I claimed I was being charitable anyway," Bill went on, as he'd been going on for the past five minutes. "This isn't a trick! I'm not running a con! I'm completely serious: being outside during an eclipse is the stupidest thing you could do. You don't want to watch it, I want to watch it even less, staying inside is mutually beneficial!"

"Do you think I should have brought my camera?" Dipper asked, determinedly ignoring Bill as he trailed behind them.

"What for?" Ford asked, also ignoring Bill.

"I've been trying to expand my Guide to the Unexplained series this summer—I've been doing longer episodes, a couple of them are ten minutes—but I wasn't sure if we'd see anything cool and my backpack was already heavy..."

"Hmm. I suspect either there won't be anything worth seeing—or, if there is, we'll be far too busy dealing with it to record footage."

"Yeah," Dipper sighed, "I guess you're right."

"This is why my journals have more illustrations than photographs."

Bill let out a loud groan of frustration before jogging to catch up with the humans. He checked the trail ahead to make sure he wasn't about to trip, then turned to walk sideways, facing Dipper and Ford as they walked. "Okay, fine, you win. So, just to be clear—the only reason you two are dragging me out here is to check a few locations for these imaginary 'micro-rips' you think are shredding the fabric of reality apart. Right? As soon as we've checked the three places you want, it's over, you admit you were wrong, and we go back to the shack?"

"Yes, Cipher," Ford sighed. "Once we've checked those locations, if we can't find evidence that any of the areas of most concern are near the one hundred thousand micro-rip danger threshold, we'll go home. Since dimensional rips could pop up anywhere around Gravity Falls, there's a possibility there could be clusters over the danger threshold away from the three areas of concern, but with no way to guess where they might be—"

"Fine. Then let's get this over with," Bill said. "Totality is in two days, if we're back home by tomorrow night we'll still avoid it. But if you try to drag me outside again after we get back, I'm hitting everyone with the Amnesia Limina curse and nobody's going outside."

With that threat delivered, Bill cartwheeled ahead of the humans, landed on his feet, and bounded ahead in long moonwalking lopes.

"Any idea why gravity's going down faster for him than the rest of town?" Dipper asked.

"Only that, if there are rips opening between us and the Nightmare Realm, perhaps they're giving Bill back some of his powers," Ford said. "Perhaps his powers are stored in the Nightmare Realm. Although I don't know how that would work." It was a better explanation than Bill's claim that he could just float better than humans, anyway.

The bracelet around Dipper's wrist momentarily tightened as Bill reached the far end of his invisible tether, then loosened as Dipper continue forward; and then tightened a second time, and a third time. From up the trail, Bill shouted, "Would you hurry up!" 

"You slow down! Some of us still have to walk!"

But even so, the slowly decreasing gravity was making the hike noticeably easier. Their backpacks sat lighter on their shoulders, and each stride seemed to carry them a little higher and farther than they expected. They startled a deer, and then the deer startled itself with how high it jumped.

"On second thought, it might not be a good idea to take him back to the shack while this is going on," Ford said. "Even if there aren't enough micro-rips in the basement, I'm not wholly convinced it won't end up the epicenter of whatever's about to happen. And if Bill wants so badly to be so close to it..."

From further up the trail, Bill shouted, "If you were any more paranoid, you'd be asking your own shadow why it's following you!"

"If you had access to any more of your powers, you'd be possessing my shadow!"

"Ha!" Bill had stopped to perch on a fallen tree that on any other day would have been far too slender to hold an adult's weight, balanced on it like a tightrope, and waited there for the others to catch up. "Fine, we don't need to go back to the shack, whatever makes you happy! As long as we get inside. Stanley's camper, a motel room, the old Corduroy cabin—hey, the Northwest place is pretty empty these days, isn't it? Is Specs renting out rooms, or...?"

"I am not taking you to Northwest Manor," Ford said. "Fiddleford's had enough trouble without letting you into his life again." Although that was only one of several reasons Ford wanted to keep them apart. For Fiddleford's safety, they couldn't risk Bill finding out that Fiddleford had been told his identity; and, now that Bill had confessed he could see through walls, they couldn't give him a chance to peer through the manor's walls and discover the ongoing paradox fuel synthesis project.

Bill laughed in disbelief. "Oh now you're concerned about somebody else's wellbeing, when it's his—fine! Fine, fine, fine! That's just fine! That's great! Terrific!" He hopped off his perch. "No evidence of self-preservation and let's not even think about respecting the triangle's wishes, but when the hillbilly might be in imaginary danger—!"

"That 'hillbilly' is one of the most brilliant men alive and the best friend I've ever known—"

"Ha!" Angrily, Bill yelled, "Some best friend, he erased you straight out of his head! You don't even know what a best friend is!"

Ford winced—he knew he'd never been much of a friend back to Fiddleford—but while he was gearing himself up to defend himself against whatever accusation Bill lobbed next, Bill turned away from the humans and stormed up the trail, leaving them behind as the weaving path took him behind several trees.

Every couple of steps, Dipper's bracelet twitched against his wrist as Bill tried to get even further ahead and was thwarted. He chuckled. "Do you think you touched a nerve?"

The corner of Ford's mouth quirked up; but he shook his head. "He's just mad he's not getting his way. As usual."

####

"I take it this is our first destination," Bill said, hands planted on his hips, looking around the forest. "This looks like the area where Shooting Star gave me the rift."

Dipper said, "You mean the place where you tricked—"

Bill shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes. "Anyway, that aside, all the glued-shut wormholes and this are a bigger hint." He tapped the tip of one dress shoe—dusty after a walk in the woods—at the start of a long crevasse in the ground weaving through the trees.

"Yes," Ford said distractedly, taking his micro-rip scanner out of his backpack and turning it on. "This is the place." He took an initial reading, frowned, and followed the crevasse deeper into the woods.

Bill trailed along after him, gesturing at the jagged lines of bending light hanging in the air. "You did a terrible repair job, by the way. Stretching the edges of the rips to meet like that puts more stress on the reality in between the rips. You should have sutured them and let them heal naturally," Bill said. "If there are a bunch of tiny rips in the area, your own shoddy work probably caused them."

"Mm-hm," Ford said, fully focused on the scanner.

Bill's shoulders slumped. He hopped to the other side of the crack in the earth from Ford and strode ahead purposefully, ignoring him.

He glanced at a wooden sign staked next to the crack, nearly passed it, and did a double take. The sign read "MABEL'S FAULT". Bill laughed in surprise. "Who did this?"

"What—?" Dipper caught up and saw the sign. "Oh."

####

2012

Mabel's smile faded as she entered the clearing. "Oh. I... think this is the place where—Bill tricked me in Blarblar's body."

"Guess that explains all the rips in this area," Dipper said. He patted Mabel's back.

She looked down—and spotted the new crack in the ground. She gasped, immediately latching on to the distraction. "Hey, what's that! That wasn't here before!" She knelt next to the crack and peered inside. "Whoa!"

"Huh. Maybe it opened up when the rift broke?"

"How deep do you think it goes?" Mabel hopped back up, straddled the gap, and yelled down into it, "Hello!"

"Careful," Dipper said. "What if it's unstable?"

"We should give it a name," Mabel said. "It's a new geographic feature! We can put it on maps and be famous! What'll we call it?"

"Huh." Dipper stroked his chin. "Well... it looks kind of like a miniature fault line... and you were here when it formed, so I guess that kinda means you discovered it... so maybe... 'Mabel's Fault'...?"

Mabel stared at him.

Dipper's eyes widened in horror. "Oh. Ohh no."

Mabel bit her lip.

"I didn't mean it that way! I swear I didn't mean it that way—"

"Dipper!" Mabel cracked up. "We're calling it that."

"No," Dipper said, mortified. "Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Please please don't—"

"Grunkle Staaan, Grunkle Fooord!" Mabel took off toward where they'd last seen their grunkles. "Did you hear what Dipper said—!"

"I'm sorryyy!"

####

2013

Dipper cringed. "Look, I didn't hear it until I said it out loud, okay—"

Bill burst out in shrill cackles.

"I didn't mean it!"

"Y-you're the worst brother ever!"

Dipper groaned, contemplated climbing down into the fault, and instead settled for pulling his hat down over his face again.

Ford passed by with the scanner, shot Bill a suspicious sideways look, and demanded, "What's so funny?"

Still laughing, Bill gestured at the "MABEL'S FAULT" sign.

"Oh." Ford glanced at Dipper, fought not to smile at the poor kid's embarrassment—he'd gotten enough teasing last summer—and said, "Right." He moved on.

"Hey," Bill called, "What's the score?"

Ford paused, but didn't reply.

"Well?" Bill pressed. "You're already past where the rift broke! Don't you figure that's where the most rips would be?"

Ford said, "The scanner's detecting about fourteen thousand."

Bill whistled. He meandered back to Ford's side of the fault. "Sounds like a lot. I'm telling you, the wormholes in this place should've been sutured, that's what your problem is."

"It is a lot," Ford said brusquely. He hesitated. "But."

"But?" Bill prompted.

"But... it's less than a fifth of what we'd expect to see if the fabric of reality were falling apart."

"Wow. Let me pretend to be surprised." Bill made zero effort to look surprised. "That's because the fabric of reality isn't falling apart. You idiot."

Ford glared at his scanner silently.

"You fool," Bill tried. "You buffoon."

Ford rounded furiously on him. "The more you say it's nothing, the more you just convince me that you're lying!"

"Which is stupid! If you always assume I'm lying, how do you know I'm not saying 'it's nothing' to trick you into thinking it's something when it isn't!"

"I don't know! There's no way to know with you! That's why I'm checking with a scanner!" Ford pointed aggressively at the scanner. "Because I'm a scientist!"

"You're a pretty pathetic scientist if you refuse to listen when the expert on a topic tells you what's—"

"—maybe if the self-proclaimed 'expert' weren't a mythomaniac—"

"Guys," Dipper said tiredly. "You've had this argument three times. Can we move on?"

Ford closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. "Right."

"No," Bill said. "Not until I win it."

"Can it, Bill." Ford glanced toward the sky to orient himself, looked around for the path through the trees, and started walking. "Come on. Next site—the place where the rift closed."

Bill clenched his jaw. Under his breath, he muttered, "As if I've ever done anything in my life to make me look untrustworthy..." He glanced up as well—and his gaze lingered on the sky much longer than Ford's.

####

"So I was thinking about what we could do after this," Dipper said, looking hopefully up at Ford.

It took a moment for Ford to drag himself out of his thoughts and look at Dipper. "Yes? You mean after..."

"After the ecl—" Dipper winced, "the... rips get sealed, or whatever's going on." He'd pulled out his journal and was holding it hopefully. "Maybe... I could show you the research I've been doing on the Fremont Nightwigglers? I think they've been stealing pants in town."

He gave Dipper a little more attention. "Is this one of their migration years?" 

"Yeah, I think so! One was caught on a security camera—or at least what looks like one. Here." Dipper flipped open to the two-page spread he was currently working on and held it up for Ford to inspect.

He studied the pictures, smiling slightly. "Would you look at that. Very impressive research. I only experienced one migration during my time in Gravity Falls, and they'd all but moved on by the time I caught wind of it. Never even saw one—I had to interview the townspeople to get a description of them."

"Really? I don't remember seeing them in your journals."

"Ah, they never made it in. I was focused on compiling magical spells and artifacts for Journal 2 at the time. I took some notes with the thought of putting them in Journal 1, but never felt like I'd collected enough information to write about them—especially when I hadn't witnessed one myself," Ford said. "You've already collected more here than I ever did. I wasn't even sure they were real!"

Dipper's face lit up. "Really? It's not that much—I still haven't found one yet either, it's mostly interviews about the crime spree."

"It's more real investigative work than I did on them. I only got as far as asking a couple of people at the diner to describe the local stories. You've got the dates and times they've been hitting the stores."

"I guess so." Dipper beamed proudly. "I haven't heard any 'local stories' about them, though. I only recognized them from a documentary I saw on Californian cryptids."

"That might be the Blind Eye's handiwork. Everyone recognized the name when I lived here. I'll see if I can dig up the notes I took, you might find the information valuable," Ford said. "I'm not sure where I left them, but they're probably still somewhere in my study."

"Scrapbook in your study on the top right corner of your desk," Bill said. "Under the box of glue bottles. You're welcome."

Ford threw him an irritated look. Bill had gotten ahead of them while Ford was looking at Dipper's journal, and now he was crouched beside a creek, scooping up handfuls of water, momentarily inspecting them, and letting them spill back out. The eye on the hood stared balefully up at Ford from Bill's back.

Ford asked, "What in the world are you doing."

"Communing with the dread harbingers of the coming eclipse," Bill said flatly. "You can't see them of course, they're invisible to you."

"Of course." Ford muttered, "I don't know why I bother to ask."

Under his breath, Bill mumbled, "Don't know why he bothered to ask."

Ford studied the creek and checked his map. They were hiking east toward the lake, with the town to their south and the cliff to the north; the creek ran north to south in front of them. On the other side of the creek, southeast of them, was a thicker, overgrown part of the woods, the shadows between the trees darker and quieter. "This seems like a safe place to wait," Ford said. "Dipper, you stay here while I scan the next site. Keep him out of trouble."

Dipper nodded. Bill cast Ford a sullen look, then rolled his eye and looked back at the water.

"After I've checked the next spot, we'll follow the cliffside to the lake," Ford said, pointing northeast, away from the dark area of the forest. "If there's still daylight, we can take a boat behind Trembley Falls and set up camp inside the cave."

"Sounds good." Dipper looked at Bill's tiny borrowed backpack. "You... didn't bring a tent, did you."

"Sorry, do you think I have a tent to bring?" Bill asked. "Do you expect me to slide an entire tipi out of my—"

Ford interrupted, "Dipper, you brought a tent, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Then that's sufficient. You can share my tent and we'll set up Bill's as far from ours as possible. We'll be safer that way."

Bill ignored the implicit accusation with silent dignity.

Dipper nodded. "Good idea." 

"Now, let's see..." Ford studied the creek. It was much wider than he could usually jump, but under the current gravity conditions... He bounced on the balls of his feet a couple of times, testing how light he currently felt; then took a few steps back, got a running start, and with a "hup!" leaped across the creek. He cleared it by several feet and almost ran into a tree.

Dipper gasped. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dipper! Just... don't know my own strength." How low was gravity now, he wondered? He could see grass swaying beneath the surface of the creek. It hadn't rained lately; without as much gravity, even water was being pulled down less, letting it rise higher and flood the creek's banks. He hoped they figured out how to reverse this before the lake flooded. When they made it into the cave, they'd have to camp on high ground. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dipper side-eyed Bill; but when he kept gazing into the water without a word, Dipper said suspiciously, "What, no complaints about camping?"

"What's there to complain about?" Bill asked.

"I don't know, you've complained about everything else so far."

"This is the only part of your expedition that isn't a terrible idea," Bill said. "I love camping! Hypothetically. The Nightmare Realm isn't known for picturesque campgrounds. But hey, I like being surrounded by trees. And a private tent? Deluxe accommodations! It's just too bad you'll be dragging the mood down."

"Hey."

Bill laughed. "You're too easy."

Dipper scowled. "You don't seem like the type to be into camping."

"Why not?"

Dipper thought about it. "Man, I dunno, you just—seem like a city person? You're always talking about how much you want to throw wild parties, that's basically the opposite of camping in the woods."

"Is it?" Bill asked. "Welcome to the cult of Dionysus."

Given what Dipper could remember about Dionysus from the book of Greek mythology he'd read in sixth grade, he supposed wild parties and hanging out in the woods weren't mutually exclusive. So what was it about Bill that made Dipper feel so strongly that he wouldn't be caught dead roughing it?

Finally, Dipper said, "I guess it's the top hat and bow tie."

"They're not a top hat and bow tie."

He gave Bill a perplexed look. "Really? What are they?"

"Did you ever read that horror story about the bride with a velvet ribbon tied in a bow around her neck, and when her new husband unties it, her head falls off her neck and bounces down the stairs—?"

Dipper shuddered. "I'm sorry I asked."

Bill laughed.

After a brief silence, he finally dragged his eyes away from the water and impressively flicked a couple of mosquitoes out of the air with a finger. (Dipper wished he could do that. His arms were coated in soothsquito bite messages. He wondered what "BURN TACK" was supposed to mean.) Bill took off his backpack, rummaged around in it, and muttered, "I should've brought a book." He looked around the bank of the creek for a patch of sunlight, pushed his sleeves and leggings up to expose as much skin as possible, and flopped down in the light, eyes shut and hands laced on his chest over the backpack.

Dipper supposed that meant he was being ignored. He took his journal back out and flipped to the section on the Nightwigglers. He'd need some empty space to add Ford's local folklore once they got home. Was there any open space in the next few pages?

"It really shouldn't be called 'Mabel's Fault,'" Bill said out of the blue. "It's not her fault. It should be called 'Bill's Fault.' I'm the one who made it, aren't I?"

Dipper lowered his journal. "Sorry, are you actually accepting blame for something? You're admitting you did something wrong?"

Bill didn't even open his eyes. "I'm not 'accepting blame,' I'm claiming credit. Weirdmageddon was great. Can't help that you're all too boring to see that."

"But you said 'Bill's Fault.' Not 'Bill's Triumph' or something."

"Sure, because we're talking about a geological fault. Don't read too deep into it, kid."

"Pff, no, you definitely said it was your fault. I can't believe Grunkle Ford missed that—"

Bill abruptly sat up. "Hey. What's the 'next site.'"

"What?"

Bill counted off on his fingers, "Six-Fingers said there are four sites you want to hit, right? The place where the rift formed, the place Weirdmageddon started, the place the rift was during Weirdmageddon, and the place Weirdmageddon ended. The rift formed at the portal—been there—Weirdmageddon started at the fault—been there—during Weirdmageddon it was in the sky—going there tomorrow—so where did Weirdmageddon end? Wasn't it in the sky too?"

"Oh," Dipper said. "It's just. Y'know. It's just a... place."

Bill gave him a sharp look.

Dipper swallowed hard. "No big deal. Just... trees and stuff."

Bill flipped up his eye patch, staring in the direction Ford had disappeared. Dipper could see the white of his eye turning red.

"Hey!" Dipper got in front of Bill, trying to block the view of the forest. "It's nothing important. You—you wouldn't even be interested. Really."

Bill just stared straight through Dipper. And then, before Dipper could react, Bill was on his feet and bolting past him. By the time Dipper turned around Bill was already across the creek, following the path Ford had taken.

"No no no, come back!" Dipper jumped the creek and sprinted after Bill, shouting, "Don't go that way, you can't go that way, Bill—"

There was a dark, quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest, as if no animals had dared visit the area for nearly a year, leaving it to choke itself on its own greenery. Bill was headed straight for the heart of it. He moved through the trees like a swimmer through underwater ruins, kicking off trunks to propel himself forward, grabbing branches to help twist his body around and between them without slowing down—more flying than running, gravity hardly seeming to touch him at all.

He barreled past Ford and his scanner without even acknowledging him. Ford gasped, "Wait—" He turned the direction Bill had come from.

Dipper was squeezing between two trees and tripped over a hidden root. "Grunkle Ford—!"

"Dipper! You still have the bracelet!" Ford pointed, "Run the other direction!"

"Right!" He turned around and squeezed back between the dense trees.

And Ford took off after Bill.

Wild brambles tore at Bill's skin and ripped at his hoodie; he ignored the pain, letting the prickles bite into him as he forced his way through the shrubs—

And then he stood in the clearing, gasping in unsteady breaths, his wide unblinking eyes staring.

In front of him, wide unblinking eye staring vacantly into the trees, was his corpse.

"Bill!" Ford fought against the brambles, trying to figure out how Bill had gotten through. "Don't touch it! We don't know what could happen—"

Bill lunged for the statue.

The bracelet snapped tight around his wrist. Bill's fingers were inches away from his corpse's outstretched hand.

Thirty feet away, Dipper's bracelet went tight while he was trying to scramble over an ancient log. He awkwardly tried to keep his balance on the log; rather than risk toppling back in Bill's direction, he flung his weight the other way, keeping the invisible thread between them taut by leaning so far over that if it weren't for the bracelet holding him up he'd fall to the forest floor.

Bill fell to his knees, clawing at the dirt and grass with his free hand and feet, desperate to drag himself closer in spite of the completely immovable bracelet.

It seemed impossible to Ford that the thin invisible thread wrenching Bill's arm back would hold him for long; Bill would sooner dislocate his own shoulder to gain those last few inches. Ford fell out of the brambles and seized one of Bill's legs. "Bill—"

Bill tried to kick Ford in the face. "You KNEW!" he shrieked. "You knew I was here this WHOLE TIME and you NEVER TOLD ME, you ANIMALS! I could have had my body back! I COULD BE HOME!"

That was exactly what Ford was afraid of. Gritting his teeth, Ford wrapped an arm around Bill's torso and the other around his neck, struggling to get enough purchase on the torn-up ground to move Bill.

Wheezing for breath, Bill tried to kick out one of Ford's knees. Ford took advantage of the split second one of Bill's feet wasn't dug in to drag him back; he only managed to move him a few inches.

But a few inches of slack on the invisible thread was enough to throw off Dipper's balance. He instinctively tried to flail back upright, overcorrected, and tumbled off the log the wrong way. "No—!"

Bill lunged out of Ford's hold, scrabbled across the last few inches to his corpse, and planted his hand on his stone face.

He froze.

Ford froze.

Nothing happened.

"N..." Bill grabbed his arm, grabbed his hand, as though trying to shake on a deal with his own body; nothing. "No." He sounded more confused than anything. "No, no, nonono..."

He hung off the statue by his grip, pressed his forehead against their joined hands. And then he let go and slowly put his trembling hand on the dead face. And then he sat there, breathing shakily, every few seconds sucking in a hitching gasp that made his shoulders jerk.

Ford gingerly got to his feet, brushed his clothes off, and looked at Bill. He didn't move for a moment; then reached for Bill's shoulder; then stopped, curled his hand into a ball, clasped it behind his back, and turned away. "Dipper," he called. "You can come back. It's..." He cast one last glance at Bill, then forced himself to look away. "It's safe."

By the time Dipper caught up, Ford had made his way back into the overgrowth, leaving Bill alone in the clearing. Dipper started, "What...?" but fell silent when he saw Ford's face. He looked past him at Bill and winced.

Ford shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled, "We should give him..." Dipper nodded.

Bill remained kneeling for less than a minute. Then he leaned forward, used his sleeve to wipe some of the moss off of his dead eye and the bird crap off his hat and hand, and unsteadily heaved himself back to his feet. He moved like he was very, very old. He glanced over his shoulder at Ford and Dipper. "What're you two staring at." His voice sounded like somebody was attempting to strangle him and his smile looked like a zombie had pulled its skin back on wrong. "You should've said you were waiting on me. I was just..." His eyes briefly unfocused. He shook his head. "Just taking a break." His cheeks were dry. He hadn't even cried.

They stepped back as Bill wove around the brambles. Dipper swallowed hard and asked, "Are you alr—"

"Of course I am." Bill plodded mechanically toward the path out of the dense dark woods. 

Ford asked, "Do you want t—"

"What I want is to get wherever we're pitching our tents before nightfall." Bill pulled his eyepatch back in place. "You're making us camp, right?"

They had no choice. If they wanted to get to the top of Trembley Falls, reach Gravity Peak, and get back down the same day, they had to be ready to ascend in the morning. They couldn't afford to go back to the shack tonight. "Are you s—"

"What were the readings like," Bill asked.

Ford hadn't even gotten as far as taking readings around the statue; he'd still been checking the perimeter of the overgrown zone when Bill ran past. He looked for where he'd dropped his scanner, picked it up, and checked. "215 micro-rips detected. Higher than baseline levels, but—not even as high as readings around the portal."

Voice thick with venom, Bill said, "What a surprise."

When the forest had brightened again and the creek was visible, Bill turned to travel upstream alongside it. Dipper pointed across the creek at Bill's backpack. "You forgot your..."

"Right," Bill said tiredly. He hopped across the creek. 

And gasped in shock when, instead of floating across as before, he landed heavily in the middle of the creek. He squeezed his eye shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long, silent inhale; and then he climbed out and grabbed his backpack. This time, he put enough force behind his jump to make it back across the creek. 

Dipper and Ford exchanged a look. Ford said, "Do you need a minute to dry—?"

"No."

"You could catch a cold in those damp—"

"I knew how germ theory works on your planet when your gill-breathing ancestors were still swimming around in their own feces," Bill snapped. "When I say 'no,' it's not because I don't understand, it's because I don't care. Don't treat me like I'm ignorant and don't act like you care."

Ford's jaw tightened. No, he didn't care. Bill accepted basic human decency as easily as he offered it. "Fine. Catch pneumonia."

"Fine!"

Ford pushed past Bill to lead the way to the lake. He tried not to notice how Bill was trembling.

####

Maybe ten minutes passed in silence before Ford worked up the nerve to say, "You—know why we didn't tell you." It was the closest he'd get to an apology.

Bill was silent for a long moment. "Of course I do." It was the closest he'd get to accepting it. "When I get my power back, I'm going to invent a very clumsy, easily startled species of bird whose feathers are scalpel blades. And then I'm unleashing a million in the shack, barricading the doors, and blowing an air horn."

Dipper grimaced. Ford muttered, "Thanks for reminding us not to feel too bad for you."

Bill let out a raw, broken laugh.

It was a very quiet hike to the edge of the lake. 

####

After spending the first half of the expedition trying to hurry Ford and Dipper up, now Bill was the anchor slowing them down. He trudged so slowly that Dipper kept having to stop to give his bracelet a little slack; but Bill kept moving, and Ford and Dipper agreed without speaking not to say anything about it.

By the time they reached the lake, the sun was just touching the rim of the mountain curling west around Gravity Falls. The water had risen so far, it flooded the roots of the trees nearest the shore. Far down the shore, distant dark dots, locals were doing cannonballs off the submerged pier, reveling in how high they could jump, how slowly they fell, and how their splashes hung suspended in the air.

Under the unusual conditions and with night coming on, Ford decided that it wasn't safe to try to set out for the cave under the falls. They'd camp on shore and start in the morning.

This, unsurprisingly, started another fight with Bill. "If we were falling behind, you should have said so, I'd have picked it up—!"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't want to imply you were too ignorant to tell the time—"

"The time isn't the issue, I just didn't think you'd give up for the night before it's even civil twilight—!"

Dipper just found a low hill to pitch his tent on.

When Bill noticed, he broke off the argument, flung his hands in the air in defeat, and crouched by the lake to sulk and study the water. He reflexively scratched his arm, pushed up his sleeve with a frown, and read the soothsquitos' message. "'Deeth in the mourning,'" he muttered. "What's deeth? That's not a word."

Maybe they'd been trying to spell teeth, Ford thought. Why would they warn Bill about teeth?

Ford pitched his tent, he and Dipper made a fire, and they attempted to reconstitute some of Ford's dehydrated astronaut food to mixed success. Bill stayed by the lake and tried to eat the cereal he'd brought, but gagged on the second handful and decided dinner wasn't worth the effort.

As Ford cleaned up after dinner, Dipper rummaged through his backpack. "Hey, Grunkle Ford. So..." He pulled out a portable chess kit. "I brought this to Gravity Falls back when I thought this would be a normal summer and I thought we might go camping? And, well, here we are, and I guess things are kiiinda weird, but, I mean... might as well...?"

Fiord smiled wanly. "I think that's just what we need to unwind."

They unrolled Dipper's canvas chess board and took several tries to set up the pieces on the uneven surface. Ford let Dipper take white; he figured the younger and less experienced player could use the advantage of going first.

Bill wandered over with a can of cider early in the match and crouched at the edge of the firelight to watch. He had rolled his sleeves back down, tied his bow tie, and flipped up his hood, and in the dimming flickering light he looked disconcertingly like his real self. He hadn't bothered to stuff his hair into his hood, and it gave the impression that some strange golden internal organs were spilling out of a gash beneath Bill's eye.

After watching for several minutes, Bill said, "Dibs on playing the winner."

Ford and Dipper said, "No."

"Why not!"

"Because we don't like you," Dipper said.

"Oh, come on." Bill ignored Dipper, turning toward Ford. "Remember how much fun we used to have?"

"I remember that you're an incorrigible cheat and made every game miserable," Ford said.

Bill reeled back. His face was hidden under the shadow of his hood, yet somehow the shadow gave off the impression of fury. He chugged half his cider, unslung his backpack, and dug around inside it. "Who wants to play against humans anyway." He unscrewed a bottle of cold medicine, topped off his cider, and poured the concoction down his throat. "Ugh. You're not even any good. Black's got mate in three and I bet neither of you can see it."

Ford and Dipper stared at the board, trying to find the looming checkmate.

Bill stood. "I'm gonna go hallucinate, pass out, and hallucinate some more. More fun than hanging out with a couple of nerdy losers playing a stupid game of..." He trudged off toward his tent, muttering to himself.

Ford concluded that Bill was probably making up the mate in three—although not confidently—and returned to the game with a sigh. "It will be nice to drop him back in the shack," he muttered.

Dipper nodded. "Yeah."

Ford won—not in three moves—and they started a new game. Several minutes in, Dipper asked hesitantly, "Grunkle Ford? Do you really think the micro-rip theory...?"

Ford pursed his lips, but admitted, "Out of all the locations of concern, you could argue that the spot in the sky where the rift spent a week floating has the highest probability of sustaining lasting damage, so we still need to check. But..." He shook his head. "Based on the empirical evidence—I'm beginning to have my doubts."

Dipper's shoulders relaxed; part of him had worried questioning the Acceptable Theory would be taken as disloyalty. "Then, what do you think about Bill's...?"

Ford snorted. "'Gravitational eclipse' explanation?" He propped his chin in his hand, thinking. "I'm only certain of two things: Bill knows exactly what's going on; and he's hiding something he doesn't want us to know. Everything he's told us so far is what he wants us to think is the truth, and because of that, any of it could be lies. He hasn't given us anything we can independently verify in any way—just vague claims he expects us to take his word for and refuses to elaborate on. Even if he is telling the truth, it doesn't matter. We have to act like... not like he's lying, per se; but like what he says has no correlation with whether it's true."

And thus had been the case with everything Bill had said and done since his capture. Every power he claimed he still had, and every power he acted like he'd lost. Every bit of magical, historical, or interdimensional trivia he spouted off to make himself sound smarter. Every sweet thing he'd said to Mabel, every favor he'd offered Stan—and every time he'd told Ford he wanted to be "friends."

Dipper nodded. "Mabel says that's just how Bill talks. He doesn't care about whether what he's saying is true, he just tells you what he thinks should be true."

Ford would have to keep that in mind when talking to Bill in the future. "That girl's a wizard with Bill. Maybe she's right." Still—he had a hard time believing that figuring out what Bill was really saying had actually been that simple all along. (Maybe he just didn't want it to be that simple, after all the time he'd wasted.)

Ford glanced down at the ring the Hand Witch had gifted him. The first time she'd given it to him in the eighties, she'd told him that if the ring ever turned black, he'd chosen the wrong friends and doomed himself. He couldn't tell if it was just the firelight, but as he looked in the deep blue cabochon now, he swore he saw a swirl of black spiraling beneath the surface. He wished he knew what that meant—was he supposed to trust Bill more, or had he already absentmindedly taken something Bill had said on faith that he shouldn't have? Had that swirl first appeared only now during the eclipse, or when Ford had started studying the miniature grimoire Bill had gifted him? Was it even due to Bill? Ford hadn't studied mood-ring-o-mancy.

Dipper snuck a rook onto Ford's back row. "Checkmate."

Ford huffed. "Well done." He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even noticed Dipper lining his rook up.

Dipper pushed Ford's king over. It dramatically fell in slow motion.

They packed up the chess board, put out the campfire, and slept uneasily.

####

In spite of the sedative cold medicine, Bill couldn't get any decent sleep. It wasn't even a good trip. Every time he shut his eyes for a few minutes, he hallucinated/dreamed that he was locked back in the shack staring at the high attic ceiling, or staring silently at Soos's bedroom—or watching over the town graveyard from high above; or locked like a hunting trophy in a glass display case in some local hick's darkened den; kidnapped and tied up beneath Gideon's bed; closed in a dark airless leather box; preserved like an ancient relic in the museum; hovering above Gravity Falls' valley and trees in the still night sky —

—or petrified in the middle of a quiet knot of overgrown plant life deep in the forest. 

Or still in the tent but with his head wrenched around wrong, unable to move or feel his limbs, staring out at an angle that should have been impossible—until he awoke with lungs heaving to find his body was right and he wasn't dead; only for the humanity of his shape to reassert itself and he envied the stone corpse.

He crawled out of his tent, threw up his ill-advised concoction of cider and cold medicine, and collapsed, slipping in and out of a delirious doze until morning.

####

(I have been so looking forward to inflicting this chapter on y'all. Hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you think, and if you thought that was bad then stay tuned for things getting even worse for Bill!! 🎉)

[h0rnyauth0r]

being stuck in a power outage with ghost, who you don’t get along with <3

i'm sorry to take months between content :( i hope everyone's doing well! i missed writing so much!

word count: 2.8k

warnings: reaader w/ vagina, use of good girl, cumming inside, unprotected sex, and other smut-typical moments

you can admit when you’re wrong to basically anybody, really. like right now, you know it’s a bad idea to sneak off during a briefing about the mission you’re going to be going on, but listening to ghost for any longer will have you ripping your hair out and screaming.

you hate that man with a passion, with the utmost sincerity of your being. he pushes you more than the others, he constantly ridicules your movements, and he always compares you to everyone else. just the other day you were ordered to run two extra miles for ‘misbehaving’ by talking with soap about holiday plans.

you’d say he has plans to get you to the point of dropping 141 and moving on, but you know that won’t happen. you’ve grown to love the team, even if he may ruin things. his targeting of you hasn’t reached a point where it’s putting you or others into danger, so as far as you’re concerned you’ll be staying.

it’s a rainy day today, clouds shifting across the sky slowly with a dark and gloomy grey making the world around you seem so sad. you love the rain. the distant thunder cracking down as it begins approaching the base. you’re not sure if the storm might interrupt the plans for later, seeing as it may impact flying out.

you shrug the thought off as you enter one of the side rooms, often used for private meetings and for you, reading. the doors here often use a pin code or a keycard to get into for security reasons, which makes things easier despite the dependence on technology.

you want to read a new book that gaz gifted you, saying that he highly recommended it to you after reading it himself. you never thought he’d be into romance novels, but here you are reading a book thats cover displays a withering rose and mentions a scandalous plotline between a ceo of a company and his newest intern.

you take a seat on one of the many chairs and finally open the cover, reading the first few notes and getting started on the first chapter. the writing is decent, and you find yourself enjoying this tacky plotline more than you anticipated.

time passes, and it’s probably been around ten minutes before you hear the sound of the door unlocking followed by heavy footsteps. you know you’ve just fucked yourself over when you hear a deep sigh. it’s ghost.

“figured you’d be here. why did you skip my briefing? it’s important information.” his voice is stern, angry.

you roll your eyes at his reaction and tone. “i can easily just get the info from price, he has the folders. besides, i already know what we’re doing and i’m already packed for leaving.”

the footsteps get closer and his arms reach around your front, snatching the book from your hands and slamming it shut. “if you had actually come to the meeting like any sensible person, you’d know our mission is postponed due to the storms.” he snaps, watching the way you angrily turn around and face him.

you glare at him, “just because it’s been canceled doesn’t mean you can interrupt my reading, lieutenant.”

now he’s rolling his eyes at you, arms crossing with your book still in his hand. “i don’t give a shit about your reading. you can’t disregard the rules here and think you’ll just get away with things because you’re close with price. at this point, i’m not letting you go on the mission. you can stay here since you like it so much.” his voice sounds like a father scolding his child, and you grow angry at the mention of not being allowed to go on the mission anymore.

“you know i can just talk to price and get this settled myself, simon. i will go where i want. now get out and leave me alone if you’re done treating me like a child.”

he slams the book down onto the table in the room and clenches his fists, turning to the door and getting a keycard out to unlock it.

that’s when the whooshing sound loudly interrupts any movements, lights going out and power ultimately failing. you almost immediately groan out, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. the only bit of light is from the crease of the door, and you can practically feel the anger radiating off of ghost.

“uh, the gen should kick on right?” your voice breaks the silence, feeling awkward about even speaking to the man right now.

“it would’ve already. must not have petrol left.” he says, and you can barely make out him taking a seat in one of the chairs in the room.

it’s nearly impossible to see, and the odds of this happening were so slim that you’re now regretting going into this room in the first place. you should’ve gone back to your bunk, but now you’re trapped here with the lieutenant and you don’t know when things will be back.

a loud pounding on the door startles you, and you hear soap’s voice scream at the door. “gaz is getting some petrol now! we were out of supply, the shipment was running late!” he screams, and you wince at how loud he’s being.

“thanks, soap! hopefully he’s back soon.” you say loudly, sinking onto the floor and sitting with your back against the door.

“should be a half hour.” ghost grumbles, and you nod at his words before flushing when you realize he can’t see you nod.

for a few minutes, neither of you say anything. you want to say something, maybe even apologize for your behavior. you know it was wrong of you to skip out on the briefing, and he’s never going to be nice to you if you continue acting out.

“hey, i’m sorry.” you say quietly.

“huh?”

“i’m sorry. for missing the briefing. it was a bad idea. i know it’s not a good look to skip out on those, so i just wanted to apologize. just because we don’t get along doesn’t mean i can fuck with our team’s organization.”

you hear him breathe in deeply, probably contemplating the words to say in the moment. you feel a little nervous with his silence, almost finding yourself feeling worried about him.

he speaks up though, “i understand why you did it. i’m hard on you, more than the others. it’s because you’re stronger and i know you can handle yourself.”

his words make you feel happy, and you actually find yourself smiling because of something he said for the first time ever. you never would’ve thought that this man sees your strength and resilience.

“thank you. can i ask you something?”

“shoot.”

“why do you punish me for talking with soap, or any others for that matter, but not them too?”

he doesn’t reply, and you don’t exactly expect him to. the quiet is mildly overwhelming and has you worried that the small step forward with the older man may have already regressed.

you hear him stand up, though, and take a seat beside you in front of the electric door. the proximity makes you anxious, but his voice is what makes it less intense.

“admittedly, i don’t like seeing others talk with you like that.” his words hold weight in your head, your neck cranking downwards to process. you’re stuck taking in what he said, contemplating what exactly it means.

jealousy? you want it to be true, in the most selfish way. maybe he sees others as a obstacle to you. but you’re certain it’s actually because they may be distracting you from your potential.

“do you think they’re distracting me or something? because they aren’t.”

he lets out a puff of air, which you could assume is the closest you’ll get to hearing his laugh. curiosity, and more importantly, embarrassment, have you growing flustered with that reaction.

“what?” you ask.

he sighs. “i know they’re not distracting you, love.”

your face grows hot, a state of deep embarrassment combining with confusion. his hand reaches out and touches your arm, and you look in his direction with anticipation at what he’s up to.

“i was jealous, since i wanted you to talk to me instead.”

you unintentionally gulp, swallowing harshly and nodding even though you’re in the dark with him. his hand slowly moves up your arm and ends up caressing your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as you suck in a breath.

“w-why?” you ask.

“can’t you tell why? i thought you were observant.” his voice is closer, right in your ear and you find yourself shivering. a pool of desire is bubbling up in your abdomen, thighs instinctively rubbing together for any tension.

you never would’ve thought that ghost had any interest in you with the way he’s treated you, but you can very much tell now. his very touch is sending sparks through your body and you can’t help but hope he’s willing to fuck you into these cold floors right now.

“i-” 

“shh.” he puts his hand over your mouth and your eyes roll back pathetically. if he can have such an impact on you with just words, you can only imagine how good he would be in other areas. 

your teeth dig harshly into your bottom lip when his other hand begins reaching for your thigh, kneading into the skin as it moves up and closer to your clothed pussy. he begins massaging the skin there and you whimper desperately.

your panties grow more and more soaked with every passing second and you find yourself staring deeply into his eyes through the darkness. you can see the look in them and it speaks volumes. he knows that you’re completely turned on by him and he’s smug about that fact.

his hand digs into your face and it kind of hurts, but you’re more overcome with the feeling of his other hand pushing at your pants to care about anything else. “you want me?” he asks, voice gruff and lustful.

his hand moves from your face.

“yes.” you whisper breathlessly, willing to do anything at the moment for him.

“good.”

both of his hands tug at your pants, fiddling with the belt and eventually lifting your body up to take them off. your panties stay on, but he fingers at the fabric to rub at your folds.

“do me a favor, yeah? lean against the table for me.” he says, slapping down on your ass as you jump and do what he says. you lean against it like he said, purposefully sticking your ass out so he has more room to work with.

“good girl.” he whispers in your ear, hand pushing your panties aside as his index and middle fingers start circling your clit. you whimper out at the feeling, craving more but allowing him to help prep you for whatever might come.

his fingers are ruthless with their movements, circling and then diving into your wet hole. they curl over and over again before going back out to tease you more. and it isn’t long before you feel your panties soak and you’re practically panting from the amount of pleasure he’s given you.

you can feel yourself getting closer to cumming on his fingers, thrusting your hips back to feel more. “please, more.” you whimper out, and he actually chuckles at your begging.

“more of this?” he asks, pushing three fingers into your hole and curling them to hit that soft spongy spot inside. you cry out when he does that, thighs shaking and knees nearly giving out.

“yes!” you say, feeling like you’re about to teeter off of the edge and absolutely falling apart when his other hand starts to play with your clit again.

you don’t even know what words or sounds come out of your mouth with the force it hits you, his hands coaxing you through it with several chants of ‘good girl’ being whispered into your ear.

his fingers pull out once you’ve come down from your high, a wet sound making you particularly embarrassed with how soaked you are for him. you can hear him taking his belt off behind you and you’re more than eager to feel his dick in you now than you were before.

“you ready?” he asks, and you can hear him using your wetness to coat his cock before he’s lining it up against you and rubbing the tip against your folds.

“fuck, yes.” you mumble to him, eyes rolling back and nails digging into the table harshly as he pushes into you. the tip is so thick that it hurts at first, but once you’re used to it you think you might cum again just from the sensation of him filling your cunt.

“holy shit.” you moan out the words once he’s balls deep, the pressure against your insides feeling so fucking good. you lean down more into the table, and his hands grip your hips tightly as he prepares to move.

and when he does move, you’re breathless. you’ve never been with someone so big who actually knows what they’re doing, and the feeling alone sends you absolutely reeling and wanting this to never end.

“please, go harder.” you say softly, moaning when he listens to your words earnestly.

the table creaks loudly as his pace picks up more, hips hitting your ass hard as he fucks into you with more and more force. he decides to grab around the front of you and pull your back into him, an angle that has you moaning louder than you want to admit.

you can only hope that nobody hears you, but with the slapping sounds of his hips crashing into you and your noises it’s obvious that something is happening in this room right now.

“need to be quiet for me, can you do that?” he asks you, and you shake your head while whimpering out a ‘no’.

his hand grabs your face again, covering your lips and leaving your nose out so you can breathe. he decides to really start pushing it after this, thrusting harder and faster than you thought he could go.

you feel like you’re going to cum again soon. “‘m close.” you whimper against his hand, feeling his free hand reach down and start working your clit like it’s nothing.

you throw your head back when his hand is practically vibrating against you, cumming on his cock and moaning so loudly that the hand over your mouth clamps down harder to muffle your noises.

you can hear his breathing picking up too, small grunts and groans coming out as his own orgasm starts to approach. you’re still clenching on him from cumming so hard, and it sends him into a spiral.

the table you’re against starts moving from the force of his thrusts as he groans out and cums in you, fingers digging into your skin as his hips stutter and slow down. 

you feel so very full- from his dick and his cum at the same time, the feeling of cum dripping out and down your thighs making you shiver a little bit. he pulls out of you and you collapse against the table, breathing heavily.

“thank you.” you whisper, catching your breath as you fix your panties, pull your pants up, and allow your panties to become drenched in both of your fluids.

“it’s nothing.” is all he says, fixing himself accordingly.

you can hear a whirring before the lights slowly turn on, flickering for a moment before powering on completely. you look at him as soon as the lights are on, seeing his usual balaclava covering his face.

he’s looking right back at you, and no words need to be spoken when you get a good look at him. you start walking towards him and right as your hands are getting ready to lift his balaclava up, the door whirs open and soap is standing there.

you know you’re very close to him and immediately feel hot, backing away and looking to soap. “oh, hey.”

he looks between the two of you, a small smirk forming on his face. “it’s about time!” he exclaims.

“soap, don’t.” ghost says, shaking his head and looking to you. his hand reaches out and grabs onto yours and you find yourself gaping at the sight.

he leads you out of that room and down the halls towards the living quarters, eyes never losing that glimmer of lust towards you as you get down to his room.

“you’re gonna have to stay quiet or soap will complain, the walls are thin over here.” is all he says before you enter the room together.

neither of you get much sleep that night, and both receive an earful from soap and a few others come morning.

-

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All Things End 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss (death, miscarriage), and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Arvin Russell

Summary: Newly widowed, you take a job at the local grocer to make end's meet.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your shoulders bangs and you falter, setting the bag of flour back on the flat. It’s been bothering you lately, mostly in the mornings. The joint burns when you raise your arm too far and there’s a knot right under your shoulder blade. You hold back a grunt and try again, heaving the heavy sack onto the shelf, a dusting puffing onto your apron.

You reach for the next but find it no easier. Before you can take the next, it’s lifted out of your grasp and easily placed on the stack. You look up at the man as he grins at you. You know him but everyone knows everyone around here. 

You might know his name but you don’t know much of Arvin Russell. He’s younger than you, much younger. You knew his father when he was still around but he died years ago. Funny how those things go.

“Let me get this” he chimes and hauls another sack onto the shelf. 

You stand straight, hands on your hips, “please, you don’t gotta… it’s my job.”

“They got a lady like you doing all this?” He asks as he tosses another like it’s nothing. Are they really that heavy or are you just getting weaker?

“Really, I can’t let you–” you grab the other end of the sack in his hands.

“I don’t mind,” he insists.

“That’s nice but my manager–”

“Ah, don’t worry about him,” he shrugs and a strand of his reddish hair droops down his forehead.

“Really, it’s fine,” you tug on the sack again.

“My mama taught me not to let a lady do the heavy lifting,” he argues.

“Well, I’m sure she meant the young pretty ones,” you wrestle away the bag and do you best not to teeter, “you’re nice but I gotta do this.”

He lingers, watching you, waiting for you to falter. You hold your breath as you ignore the fire in your shoulder. You’re embarrassed. When you were his age, it wouldn’t be a real task. He can’t understand the way the years eat away at you, though you suspect he understands some things.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” he says as he takes a can from the shelf, paying special attention to the baking powder label.

“Couple months ago…” you say vaguely.

“Mmm,” he nods and puts the can back, “I… awful what happened to your old man.”

“Yours too,” you counter and cringe, “sorry, I–”

“It’s okay, you get it,” he says, “never really goes away, does it?”

You shake your head, “not really.” 

You drop the last bag on the shelf and huff. You wipe your hands on your apron and grab the dolly handle, pumping the flat up on the wheels. Arvin steps back to the other side of the shelf to clear your path.

“Thanks,” you steer past him.

“No problem,” he hums, “have a good one.”

You keep on, turning the flat towards the warehouse doors. You push through the swinging doors and leave it with the rest for Casey to load or unload. You roll your shoulder but it only makes it worse. You whimper and kick the doors open with your foot as you go back onto the floor.

There’s no hiding since you started at the grocery store. Every face is familiar, every eyes is judging, they all know who you are, and they all look at you with pity. The whispers are often louder than that. 

‘Poor thing.’ ‘Did you hear how her husband went?’ ‘Never even had a child.’ ‘Never one that lived.’ 

Your grief makes for good gossip. You ignore their wagging tongues. You need money if you want to keep the house and what Ben left behind, isn’t enough to last. It’s the only thing left of him and you can’t let it go.

You go up to cash and take over at the till. Lynette puts her basket on the counter as she greets her in her crowlike voice. She’s the worst of them. Everyone knows she sits on her phone and makes her rounds, calling to gather intel like some mafioso.

“Did ya hear?” She beams, “Molly’s having a fifth.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you put on a fake smile as you play minion.

“Don’t know yet if it’s a boy or a girl, though I think she’s got enough of both–” she suddenly covers her mouth, “oh, hon, I forgot, I’m so sorry–”

“Hm? What do you mean?” You hold back your agitation.

Of course it wasn’t an accident. She’s needling for something. She wants to see you crack. Life hasn’t been kind but you’re just fine with it. You’re getting on.

“It’s just… I know it’s been hard and now… Benny’s gone…”

“Ben,” you correct her, unable to restrain that ounce of distaste, “it’s life.”

“Mmm, you have my sympathies,” she places her hand over her heart as you scan a dozen can of discount tuna. She must have a pantry full of Atlantic skipjack.

You grumble as you focus on your work. She won’t get much from you but you sure she’ll make something up. She’s got too much time for her own good. Her only hobby is talking. You read out her total and accept her check, tucking it under the drawer. Only your goodbye is genuine as you’re all too happy to see the back of her.

You look over as Arvin approaches. Unlike Lynette, he takes the items from his basket and sets them on the counter. You could sing just at the simple consideration. You ask him if he wants a bag as you start scanning.

“Should just need the one,” he says, “slow day?”

“Always is around here,” you shrug, wincing at the tug in your shoulder.

“Don’t mind, it’s my day off,” he smiles, “but I hope it goes by quickly for you.”

“Eh,” you mutter as you put a can of maple beans in the paper bag. Those were Ben’s favourite, you’d make him with sausage and a bit of your blueberry chutney. “Hope you’re not spending your whole day doing errands.”

“Just this,” he says brightly. You look at him as he beams, watching you with that grin. He’s polite, his father would be proud. “How much do I owe ya?”

You give him his total and he counts out bills from his wallet. You return his change and a receipt. He tucks them away as you go to grab his bag. He’s quicker, scooping it away before you can get it.

“I got it,” he says, “you take it easy.”

“Uh, thanks, have a good day,” you stand straight and your cheek ticks as a strike of lightning runs up the back of your neck.

“Shoulder won’t get any better if you don’t,” he tuts as he struts around the end of the counter.

You furrow your brow as you watch him go. He offers a small wave before he sets his sights to the exit. You turn back to the till and grip the edge of the counter. How did he know?

[startaee]

not an equal.

reo x reader; reader wants to be independent, but reo doesn't see the point of it.

pt.2, a second chance

tws, overworking, slightly toxic relationship, power imbalance.

reblog if you like it!

plsplspls don't let this flop /open to constructive criticism,, just don't be rude!/ if this goes well, ill definitely post the comfort part !!

“reo you can’t be serious…” you sighed heavily, rubbing the temple of your head. “what, pookie? i missed ya’. and my schedule’s free for the day so-” his cocky smirk was wiped off when you slammed your laptop shut.

“well. news for you, but mine isn't.” you got up from your desk, walking towards him, each step you took, felt heavier.

you were tired. you’d been working for 7 hours straight. not by force, but by choice. there was a promotion coming up and your senior, (and mentor) had hinted that your name might be on the list. you wanted to give your best. which resulted in you overworking yourself for the past week. only ever taking a few breaks to nap and eat. this was only temporary, just till june ended, and you were finally given the higher salary, bigger office and more authority. just like you deserved. 

“woah, what’s up with the attitude?” reo furrowed his eyebrows, slightly raising his hands as a form of defencelessness (?). 

“this is the third time you’ve shown up to my office, reo. and it’s the last time, i tell you to never. ever. do it again.” you said, your eyes bloodshot due to the lack of sleep and the anger you felt at this moment. sure, he missed you. you missed him too, but this promotion was something you’d dreamed of for years now. you were so close and wanted to make sure everything was perfect. however, your boyfriend showing up to work three times in the same week wasn’t going to impress your higher-ups.

“hey, don’t snap at me, alright? this is the most of you i’ve seen all week!” he raised his voice, pointing at you accusingly. that’s when it hit you. you were arguing with a man-child. no, it wasn’t funny anymore. he’d been served everything on a golden platter since the time he was born. sure, he works hard now, but he’d have never made it so far if it wasn’t for the fact that he was born into the right family. you took a deep breath, turning to face a wall, because you couldn’t stand to see him right now.

then you remembered, and you felt your anger rise back. “yeah, well, what about the times you went to the US for up to two weeks?” your head snapped back to him, watching his face turn into an amused one as he scoffed. “y/n. sweetie, that’s different.” he smiled, a hand reaching out to cup your face. despite how gentle this must have seemed to the audience peeking into your office from outside, to you, it felt cruel. cruel, humiliating, and offending. feeling tears well up in your eyes once you realized how he saw you, you shut them. your friends, your family, everyone was right.

reo mikage was not on your level. he would never be. and most importantly, he’d never see you, the same way you see him.

“how…” you mumbled. “how…is it different…?” you knew the answer. but you wanted to hear it. just to be sure. 

“darling, c’mon. don’t be like that. you know, my work is, y’know? actually important…” he smiled at you as you blinked your eyes open, biting your lip and nodding. tears slipped down your face, and as his thumb immediately reached out to wipe them, you took a step back. 

“and mine isn’t.” you stated, wanting to laugh at yourself for even telling your friends that your boyfriend, respected you and saw you as an equal. 

“oh, don’t cry, y/n. want me to talk to your boss? i could make things much easier if ya let me.” he raised his eyebrows, sending you his signature smile as he walked closer to you.

your face felt cold. you felt tired and betrayed and sleepy and pathetic. “reo?” you said, turning your back to him as you made your way back to your desk. wiping your own tears, you made a decision. a decision that you wouldn’t regret, but would certainly make him think about his actions for months. 

“we should break up.”

[anki-of-beleriand]

In the darkness you said goodbye

Summary: Wanda makes a mistake, and she thinks she can tlak herself out of it.

Warnings: Cheating, F/M sex, bittersweet ending, Wanda is to blame.

Pairing: Reader/Wanda - Reader/Carol - Wanda/Vision

Author's note: This story is an experiment, mostly I want to see how it goes as a one shot, and second just want to see how it goes with Wanda. I hope you guys liked it, as always English is not my mother tongue so forgive me my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Second part: In the light you love her

 Winter was your favourite time of the year.

The snowflakes falling on the ground, and the sound of Christmas jingles around the streets was enough to put you on a good mood. It had been five years since Thanos was defeated it and the Blip was reversed changing the shape of the universe, the stories people told were now shaped for a past that defied everything they knew.

Midgard had certainly changed in the last years; new heroes were born and the old ones were ready to step aside and give way to the new generations. Your face lifted up to the Avengers Tower standing proudly in midtown Manhattan while the cold of the early afternoon surrounded you in a comforting embrace.

You smiled to yourself, music blasting through your ears while your hand closed around the small box you had worked your ass off to get for this special date. Your phone vibrated, the ringtone you attached to Natasha’s name breaking through the music and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sudden interruption.

“Yes, mom?” The voice at the other end chuckled, and you allowed yourself a tender smile.

“I’m just making sure you’re okay, kiddo, no need to be a brat about it.”

���I am okay, more than okay, I’m super okay!”

“So, you’re nervous.” The older woman replied, and you gulped chewing on your lower lip.

“I am, I’m super nervous.” You confessed, the hand closing around the small box as you spoke. “Tasha, I love her, I…god when I lost her in the Blip, I almost lost myself to darkness…”

“I remember, Y/N, I know it was hard for you.” And Natasha remembered those dark times, you had always been an open gate to darkness.

The very nature of your species made it easier for your heart and soul to give into darkness, your powers were not only a manifestation of your mutation but also a warning sign of what you were capable of doing. But Natasha never gave up on you, and from the moment Thor brought you in and she took care of you, you became the woman Natasha knew you could be. Then, Thanos happened and Natasha could see for the very first-time what Thor and even Loki meant when they said that you were born out of pure blackness. You became unfeeling, careless, cold and almost cruel…

The moment you lost Wanda, on that battlefield watching her disappeared, that was the first time Natasha feared you.

You turned around destroying every single servant that Thanos had brought with him, your shadows covering Wakanda just before they perished in screams of pure agony. Darkness had covered you, and everything would have ended in disaster if Steve hadn’t knock you out; not many understood the deepness of your love for Wanda, but Natasha had been there to see the growing friendship, the affection and the tender moments stolen in between their teenage years.

Natasha had seen the relationship grow from afar, and she could tell you were far to in love with Wanda to not suffer with her lost. But even after you woke up, it wouldn’t be until everyone went looking for Thanos in space that you really broke.

Natasha still remembered when you crumbled to your feet after having destroyed an entire fleet of Chitahuri while looking for Thanos with Carol. How you cried until she put her arms around you, and you finally let go of the pain of losing the woman you loved with all your heart and might. You cried for days, and soon every surviving Avenger was afraid of losing you, of not being able to reach out to you. Natasha hated to see the suffering in your face, the whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to talk and explain that you were hurting so badly you didn’t know what to do.

It took time, but eventually you started recovering. Tony and Steve, as well as Carol and Rocket helped in the process. From them you learnt about your past, and your planet, they talked to you about your origins and your powers, and Natasha was happy to see you recover.

You became not only an Avenger, but also an amazing woman.

And now, after five years of having defeated Thanos and recovering the woman you had been in love since you were fifteen years old, it was just fair for you to have a happy ending.

“You have grown so much since I first met you, Y/N. Wanda is a lucky girl, you know?”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one, I just hope…I mean…” You stood by the gates of the Tower, trembling while cleaning up your sweaty hands. “We’ve been talking about having children and all, and I just… I don’t know if I’m a mom material but…”

“You are. You are, Y/N, now stop stalling and go get her, kiddo. I love you.” Natasha stated in that motherly tone you had come to love as well, you chuckled when you heard Yelena in the background and Natasha cursing in Russian.

“Okay, okay, don’t kill auntie Lena, and stop cursing. I call you when …. when I can.”

“Please have loud, sweaty sex with your soon to be fiancée, and call us when you finish!”

“Yelena!”

You chuckled shaking your head while hanging up.

The building was mostly empty, there was only one security guard that greet you with a polite smile and a mug of hot chocolate on his hands. You went past him into the elevators, your finger selecting the floor Tony had given to Wanda when he first finished the Avengers Tower.

You stood there hearing the music, your hands completely sweaty while your heart hammered hard against your chest. There was a deep void inside your stomach, and you couldn’t help but lifted your eyes to the numbers on the screen. You knew that day would be the day, today had been your last active day as a hero, and Tony had already hired you as normal everyday scientist in one of his investigational facilities. Wanda still thought you were in Kamar Taj with Strange and a girl that had shown to his doorstep, so tonight would be a great surprised that you hope would finally give you your happily ever after.

When Wanda came back, trying to build your relationship with her had been hard.

Wanda found it difficult to adapt herself to a life she was not used to, she found it hard to find out you had travelled around the galaxy being a hero with someone like Carol Danvers and Rocket. At first, you found it funny that Wanda was jealous of Carol, but then it was not only Carol but also your new house in Westview, or the bicycle you bought to go around the city. It was about your job at Stark’s Industries and your lack of interested in being a hero. Then it was you leaving your hero life behind and wanting to be normal, or to gather the new generation of heroes…

Your relationship with Wanda had been rocky, to say the last, after she came back.

But you had learnt that time and communication fixed everything, and after a while the both of you talked about what you really wanted. About your future, about your hopes…and you realized that Wanda wanted nothing more than a life with you. To build a family, and to be happy. She was finding it hard to do so, in a world that had moved on without her, and you made sure to let her know every day that your life had been nothing without her in it.

You smiled putting the ring from your pocket.

Now, finally you could close the last gap and asked Wanda to marry you. You had given up everything in your old life, to start your new life with Wanda.

“Okay, here we go…”

The door of the elevator open and you stepped inside the living room. The place was decorated with candles, and the sweet aroma of Wanda’s favourite perfume. You furrowed your brows, looking around the place you could see her back, and some of her things scattered around.

You walked down the halls, stopping dead on your tracks when your eyes fell upon something you did not recognize. It was a dark jacket. You looked around the scene, and then you caught the sounds. You felt dizzy, your body burning while your stomach dropped leaving a foul taste in your throat.

The hallway was dark, most of the doors were closed but the last one at the end of the hallway. Yellowish light came from it, and as you approached it you could tell it was the light coming from different candles. You were trembling, all of a sudden you felt cold and empty.

A heavy weight positioned above your shoulders, and your heart trembled at the sight before you.

Wanda was on the bed, sprawled and legs wide open with Vision on top of her. Both were naked, and Wanda was throwing her head back grabbing the bedsheets tightly, Vision was trusting inside her whispering in her ear.

Your eyesight blurred for a moment, but your presence went unnoticed and just as you came in, you left. You were staggering around the hallway until your knees gave up and you fell with a soft thud, tears rolling down your eyes and the ring you had made for Wanda fell to the floor.

A part of you, the darker part, ignited a fire inside you ready to scream and bring down the hole building with Wanda and Vision in it. You wanted to make them suffered, for them to experiment the sheer pain you were experimenting at the moment. But another part, the one you had gained with your family and friends simply told you to go.

And so, you did. Falling into the shadows you disappeared leaving behind the ring you had made to Wanda as promised to her, a commitment, and show of your love for her.

Later that same night, Wanda cringed shivering as she exited her room. She placed a hand on her face, shamed and self-disgust filling up her mind, just as she thought of the passion that Vision ignited in her. She knew she needed to put a stop to the affair with Vision; she knew that she had to do it soon if she really wanted to move forward with Y/N and actually started the family you two had talked about. But Wanda was afraid to do so, she was afraid of the consequences, of Vision not understanding, of anyone finding out…

Wanda was strolling down the hallway until her feet stepped on something hard on the floor. She furrowed her brows, and her expression soon changed as she realized it was a small box. At first she thought this was one of Vision’s attempts to get to her heart, but then Wanda felt her stomach dropped and her heart ached painfully in her chest.

Inside the box there was a ring.

And suddenly, Wanda realized how stupid she had been.

Wanda stood there, her eyes wide open filled with tears. She made her way to the door, but you were no longer there, the room was still dark and when she turned on the lights her gazed fell upon the dark box you had been carrying for almost five years.

“Wanda…” Vision said behind her, but Wanda couldn’t do or say anything at all, her eyes completely fixed on the ring you had brought to her.

It was a start.

A green start resembling a spiralling galaxy, the shank of the ring made of white gold.

Your name and hers written around it, the date you two said I love you to one another right beside them.

It was at moment that Wanda realized how stupid she had been.

_________________________________________

“You really have some nerve to come here, Wanda.” Natasha stood by the door glaring at the redhead, her arms crossed though she could sense Yelena getting her weapons ready.

“Natasha, I need to talk to her.” Wanda was on the verge of desperation.

For more than a month she had tried to reach out to you, to try and get to talk to you and explain herself. Wanda knew that whatever you had seen, whatever had happened, she would need to do more than explain what had happened. Why she did it. You were nowhere to be found, and everyone had closed their doors to Wanda who only got disgusted faces, and harsh words thrown at her.

She knew she was risking a lot by coming here, but it was her last chance.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.” Natasha stated, her eyes glaring at Wanda. “Now, if you excuse me…”

“Natasha, please…” Wanda all but begged, she had tears in her eyes and it was quite evident she had not sleep in quite a while.

Natasha hesitated; she wondered if Wanda understood the gravity of her sin.

The former Black Widow almost went to the Tower to kill with her bare hands the red head. Y/N had come home, a scream of pure pain leaving her lips just as tears rolled down her cheeks. It took Natasha almost an hour to get Y/N to tell her what had happened, and she was so heartbroken she curled up on her bed and cried while holding a hand to her chest.

No one knew the reality of a broken heart.

How much it hurt, how it made your body cold and ached as if a thousand knives went through your every nerve. Y/N spent three days on her bed, ignoring everyone and everything around her. For a brief moment, Natasha had been afraid of the darkness growing in your eyes, day in and out seeing it covered your iris and expanding little by little.

“You broke her heart, Wanda.” Natasha stated through gritted teeth. “You broke her, and she loved you more than life itself. I can’t tell you just how much she loved you and how much you messed up…”

“I know! I know! I know!” Wanda screamed putting a hand on her face. “I know screwed up! I KNOW!”

Natasha seemed unfazed by the outburst, and Wanda broke in front of the former Widow pleading with her eyes.

“Please, I just need…”

“She is not here.” Natasha finally said.

“What?” Wanda winked confusedly; Natasha hesitated before speaking.

“She left two days ago.”

“Where? Why?” Wanda panicked, she glanced at Natasha then back at Yelena. “Where is she?”

“She left the planet; Loki came in and took her away.” This time around it was Yelena, the blond-haired woman smirked nastily at Wanda. “And we don’t know when she will be back, perhaps never, and if she is lucky, she may meet someone that won’t break her heart.”

Wanda stood there, lost and crushed by this news. Natasha hesitated for a moment, a part of her feeling this was not the best way to give the news. The woman stepped forward moving past Wanda.

“She is not coming back anytime soon, Wanda, so if I were you I would just let go.” Natasha turned to look at Wanda. “She waited for you, she almost lost herself for you, she was going to marry you…”

“I know! I just…god, this is so mess up!” Wanda wrapped her arms around herself. “I need to…I…I just…I need her…”

“You’re too late for that, Wanda.” Natasha then turned around and left.

Wanda stood there.

She was alone, lost and desperate, and without a single clue as to where you were or how to reach you out. Not a single way to talk to you, to explain to you…Wanda fell to her knees, her hand reaching out for the ring in her pocket. Tears rolling down her cheeks, and her mind a pool of confusing thoughts.

She would wait if it was necessary.

She knew that you were hurt, and she would wait for you to have a chance to explain herself to you.

And then, she would make sure to show you that Wanda was yours. That you held her heart in your hands.

It would be quite a while before she would see you again. But Wanda would wait, just the same way you did.

_________________________________________

Winter was back.

You lifted your eyes to the sky, closing your eyes while enjoying the feeling the cold on your face. Your ears twitched catching the sound of laughter inside the house, turning around you saw Kamala Khan squealing like a fangirl while hugging Carol tightly. You smirked at the sight, Carol was still getting used to such shows ow affection and Kamala was certainly someone without any limitations in her PDA.

“Y/N!! Oh, did you hear?? I will help you guys move!!!” Kamala went back inside her house screaming at the top of her lungs, “AMMI!”

“Move?” You asked raising a single eyebrow, Carol winced making her way to where you were standing.

“Well, I was thinking that perhaps I shouldn’t be moving around so much, and that staying on Earth is not such a bad thing, after all.” Carol shrugged looking away from you, her lip caught in her teeth with her mind filled with thoughts and possibilities.

Overthinking her every step as always.

“I think Monica is going to love it, Kamala is screaming her appreciation…”

“And you?” Carol asked this time around facing you with just a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “You’re back again, what would you do?”

You had been away for two years, while you never stopped contacting Natasha and the others you had left earth with a single thing in mind. To heal. Your heart had been broken to pieces the moment you found about Wanda’s infidelity, you had cried and cursed and almost turned to darkness until you found yourself at the hands of Carol Danvers. For the second time, the woman took it upon herself to help you out, out of friendship she never thought she would get a chance with you; not after having heard of your story with Wanda and certainly not after she was back. Her odds didn’t improve one bit when she saw how heartbroken you were, Carol knew by then you needed a friend and that was what she offered you.

A friendship that, little by little turned into something else.

Still, there were times in which Carol doubt herself and the relationship she had forged with you.

You softened your featured, your arm wrapping around her waist putting her closer to you. She leaned in, nuzzling your neck before placing a soft kiss on your jaw looking for comfort. You smiled lowering your face until your lips met hers, the kiss was slow and sweet, and Carol smiled into the kiss.

“So, that’s an idea of what you want to do?”

“Ugh, gross.” Monica made a face while Kamala was looking at the scene with a glint of curiosity in her eyes.

“Okay, ladies, nothing to see here.” Carol tried to shush them away, but you wrapped your arms around her again, you turned her around and kissed her once more making Monica gaged and Kamala giggled nervously.

“Let’s give them a show, Danvers.” You mumbled in between kisses; she punched you lightly on the arm flustered stepping away from you before she decided to just follow your lead.

“Very well, I think it is time for me to go back to work but…” Monica turned to Carol wrapping her arms around her. “Please, Auntie Carol, tell me when you get there and don’t forget to keep an eye on the plane.”

“I won’t Captain trouble.” Carol said affectionately, Monica smiled sighing as she stepped back.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rambeau.” You gave her a hug, and the other woman glanced at you then back at Carol.

“You’re one to say, Natasha Romanoff is still waiting for you and you heard Fury…”

You winced fidgeting on your spot, you had heard Fury and Natasha was also waiting for you. You nodded scratching the back of your neck.

“I guess is inevitable.” You shrugged. “I will tell you all the gross details of these meetings.”

“I will wait for them anxiously, take care of Auntie Carol please.”

“I will, don’t worry.” You winked at Monica and stepped back to join Kamala and Carol inside the Khan’s family.

“Hey, are you okay?” Carol fixed your hair behind your ears, you nodded curtly pecking her nose.

“Yeah, let’s eat and then I will take you home, Captain Marvel.”

Earth had changed in the last two years she had been here.

The street were loudly, and the technology had certainly improved a lot. The stories were different now, most of them included the newest heroes in the cities, and the evilness lurking in the shadows.  You enjoyed the soft purr of the bike you had bought in Jersey City, Carol had her arm wrapped around your abdomen leaning against your body while you drove down the streets of a city you had not seen in a long time.

Up until now, you had spent your time in the guest room at the Khan’s family home. You had tried to say no, but Ms. Khan was very adamant that they would not stay in a hotel or something equally dangerous. And Kamala was beyond excited to have them both in her home, at least until all the moving details had been arranged and soon they would be driving down to Luisiana.

To say you were nervous was an understatement, it didn’t mater you had spoken with Natasha almost every day since leaving earth. Or that you had been kept up to date with the gossip around the Avengers and the newest additions thanks to Yelena, it was the fact that this little party would include Wanda as a guest. Two years ago, you had left your home running away from your feelings, your heart had been broken and you never thought it would mend. And while it took some time to get it back together, to actually allow yourself to feel and fall in love again.

You had done so.

Carol had become your world, but this time around you were careful to not lost yourself into the relationship. Carol was not an easy person, and while the road to happiness had been a bumpy one, you wouldn’t change a single thing of how everything happened. Not if it meant that at the end of the day she would wake up with you beside her, a mug filled with coffee and a morning of meaningless talks watching the space in the window of a ship.

“Wow, I don’t remember this building being here on my last visit.” Carol stated getting off the motorcycle, she glanced up to the building then turning to you.

“I bet Tony made some arrangements.” You smiled turning to the main gates, your hand seeking out hers.

“Are you ready?” Carol inquired tilting her head, you nodded curtly and then without wasting any more time, you two entered the building.

There were many familiar faces, but soon you found yourself being wrapped in a tight hug by none other than Natasha. You softened your face and your arms wrapped around her pulling her close to you, Carol watched from a distance, her lisp curling into a gentle smile before she turned around and left for the bar. These moments were for you, and you had been waiting to come back and see the people you love, Carol could understand that much. With a heavy heart, and insecurities filling up her mind, the woman made her way to the bar never noticing the redhead glaring daggers at her back.

“You look so good, Y/N, did you cut your hair?” Natasha put you at arm’s length, her eyes twinkling while the examine you with care.

“Yeah, a little and well I have to be on top physical form to be in space, so…” You smiled sheepishly, Natasha chuckled placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“How have you been?” Natasha finally asked and you just shrugged.

“Fine, I guess. I just come here due to a mishap of  powers between Carol, Monica and a girl called Kamala.”

“So I heard, quite the adventure I guess.” Natasha then hit you on your arm.

“Hey!”

“So if it hadn’t been because of that you wouldn’t have come?” Natasha was a little hurt by this, you shook your head lowering your gaze before shrugging.

“No, of course not. I did have plans…” You stated and Natasha was about to speak but trailed off just as her eyes caught another person coming towards them. “I knew I have to come back, and I was dying to see you all, I was just… waiting…”

“You were waiting for what?” Wanda asked behind you, and she wait anxiously for you to turn around.

You thought the moment you heard her voice again, that you saw her again your resolution would crumble and that perhaps you would fall under her spell once more. One of your greatest gears included your weakness to perhaps leave behind your relationship with Wanda and moved forward. But this never happened, and soon after you started healing it was easier to move on. Now, after two years, you stood before her and you realized you had been scared for nothing.

Of course, your stomach dropped, your palms started sweating and your head fluttered in your chest when you saw her again. She was still as beautiful as you remembered her, her voice still carried with it such a powerful tinge, something you had always loved from her.

But something else had changed, the shivering in your heat came along with an old pain and rage that went through your senses. You clenched your fists closed, but remained impassive while Wanda offered a tentative smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Wanda chewed on her lower lip before speaking, “do you think we could talk?”

You glanced out of the corner of your eyes to see Natasha standing closed to you, Yelena had stopped talking with a brunette in a dark suit, and both of them were walking towards you. You then lifted your eyes and soon you found the eyes of Carol looking at you with curiosity, after a moment the other woman smiled and nodded in understanding.

“I think we need to talk, Wanda, lead the way.”

Two years ago, on a day such as this, you discovered the pain behind a betrayal.

You glanced at the sky, the snowflakes falling slowly down the streets, the breeze caressing your warm cheeks while you waited patiently for Wanda to speak. The other woman had changed as well, she looked thinner, and tired, her hair was longer and she seemed quiet and alone. Wanda turned her stare to you and you could see their love and regret and loneliness.

“Why didn’t you stay?” She asked, her voice breaking by the end of the question.

You raised a single eyebrow snorting while shaking your head.

“You really asking that?”

“The ring…You were there…” Wanda started and you winced remembering that day, the old pain coming back as you remembered how it felt.

“I could have killed you and Vision.” You stated looking away from her. “I was so mad, so heartbroken, Wanda…I knew if I had stayed or said something…well, it would have ended in a bloodbath.”

Wanda winced wrapping her arms around herself, “I just…god, I’m sorry. I just…I’m so sorry for everything, I never…”

“What, Wanda? You never what?” You asked harshly, Wanda stepped back lowering her face.

“I was afraid, and I wasn’t sure of what I wanted, okay? I came back and you were already all over me, and I really didn’t know what you were expecting of me, and he was just there listening to me and…”

“And I didn’t? Wanda I asked you, everyday I tried to make our communication to work!” You huffed rolling your eyes at the excuses. “What were you hoping for, Wanda? A child? A dick? What?”

Wanda had thought about it in the last two years, she thought about her reason and why she had entered into a senseless affair with Vision. The truth was she didn’t know exactly why, she always thought that you had everything resolved by the time she came back, you had five years to organise your life and made decision for the future whereas Wanda had been trapped in nothingness until she came back to face a world she didn’t recognize. Vision had been the only one who understood, the only one who let her talk and expressed the way she wanted to about the situation, and in the midst of those conversations Wanda fell into passion and desire to make her life and indecision more bearable.

“I was just hoping everything went back to normal, and that…I didn’t feel so lost.” Wanda mumbled knowing her words meant nothing to you at the moment.

You sighed shaking your head, “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Y/N, I just…I…search for you.” Wanda mumbled, you nod curtly at her.

“I know.”

“I want to explain, to tell you that it meant thing.” Wanda stated lowly. “I wanted to tell you that I Lov…”

“Don’t.” You cut her off before she could continue. “Don’t say it, you don’t have any right to say to me anymore, Wanda.”

Wanda stepped forward, holding back her tears she made sure her eyes were locked with yours, her heart beating fast and her whole-body trembling.

“I love you.” Wanda said softly. “I’m still in love with you, and I just…”

“Can you hear yourself, Wanda? If you love me you wouldn’t have done…you would have come to me first! We would have talked about this, about us!” You exclaimed waving your arms around. “You wouldn’t have cheating on me just because you felt alone or misunderstood.”

“Y/N…” Wanda started but she cut off as soon as someone entered the balcony you two were in.

“Hey, baby, are you…Oh, sorry, I’ll be inside if you…” Carol interrupted glancing at you then at Wanda, before turning around and leaving.

Wanda clenched her jaw, turning to you eyes that flickered between red and green.

“So, you left two years and you have replaced me already?” Wanda asked bitterly, you snorted shaking your head.

“Nobody can replace you, Wanda. You will always be my first love.” You stated softly, your heart fluttering at the veracity of your words.

Wanda clenched her eyes close, you closed the distance between you and her standing right in front of her. Your eyes drifting for a moment to see the ring you wanted to give her on her left hand.

“Wanda I loved you with my whole heart, I thought you and I will be forever but after I saw you with Vision, I couldn’t take it.” You mumbled placing a hand on hers, Wanda shivered and she knew there was a finality in your tone.

When she imagined this meeting the outcome was different inside her head. She always thought you would come wanting to go back but not without some kind of request or penance so everything could back to normal. She never imagined the outcome of this would be for Wanda to experience the same broken heart you had experience two years ago.

“I didn’t want this to happen.” Wanda mumbled wrapping her arms around herself, you pressed you lips together stepping back a little. “I thought we…”

“Me too.” You replied.

Wanda was about to take the ring away, but you stopped her offering a bittersweet smile to her.

“I made it for you, so…it’s yours, Wanda.”

The other woman broke into a half smile, but she was looking just miserable, she caressed the ring and the tears fell down slowly.

“Are you…are you happy?” She finally asked, you scowled at that question.

“Are you?”

Wanda sighed looking away before nodding, “yeah, yeah I am.”

You pressed your lips together, lowering your eyes before looking at her.

“That’s good.”

The lie rolled out of her lips easily, and while it was quite evident you knew Wanda was lying neither one of you was about to say anything at all. Wanda put her arms around herself, she wanted to say something else, perhaps asked how long passed after you left for you to get together with Carol, or how exactly did you two ended up being a thing. But Wanda knew that wouldn’t help at all, if anything would make her bitter.

“I guess…you better go back, I…Carol must be waiting for you.” Wanda turned her back to you, her eyes to the city.

You stood behind her, your hand lifting to reach out to her.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if you were to look for her, perhaps to talk or say something, anything that might change your situation and hers. You thought the moment you went back to her, that perhaps the old flame would ignite and that you and Wanda could offer one another a second chance. You were afraid that perhaps what you felt for Carol was just…revenged, and just a sense to fill up a void left by the broken heart.

But it wasn’t like that.

And while a part of you would always love Wanda, she wasn’t the person you were in love with.

Carol was playing with her drink on corner far away from everyone else, she was looking gloomy while pursing her lips. You softened lightly, strolling directly towards her.

“Hey, Marv, why are you pouting?” You chuckled when she lifted her face towards you, her eyes going wide before she tried to play it off.

“I’m no pouting.”

“You certainly look like someone who is pouting.” You chuckled leaning in to peck her cheek.

“I’m no pouting, and what are you doing here? I thought you were still talking to Wanda…” Carol looked away trying to conceal her emotion, she didn’t want to look jealous or insecure, she was supposed to be stronger than this.

You leaned in wrapping your arms around her waist, “mm, I was but now I’m not and I think I want to go home, so…shall we leave?”

Carol narrowed her eyes at you, it took her a moment before she placed a hand on your cheek.

“Are you okay?” She asked, tilting your head slightly.

“I am.” You replied smiling softly.

“Did you two…clear things up?” Carol didn’t want to look eager, nor did she want to sound desperate. But she had always known the conversation with Wanda was something you needed to do.

It was a chapter of your life that was waiting to be closed.

“I did, we did.” You hesitated before continuing. “I realized that a part of me would always love Wanda, she was my first love.”

Carol nodded in understanding, her mind soon brought Maria to memory, and she could relate to what you were saying. She was observing you with care, your eyes gleaming lightly as they locked yours, and Carol felt her heart skipped a beat at the softness and love she found there.

“Then, I realized that you are the love of my life, Carol.” You said it so simply Carol felt her abdomen and her heart flutter, making her body tingle at the revelation. “I am in love you with you, and I can’t imagine anybody else I want to be with but you.”

You had heard before how many people stated Carol Danvers was a flat, unfeeling individual, that she was just too unemotional, and quite incapable of expressing emotion. You had discovered this was far from the truth, Carol was someone who felt too much and suffered in silence; she was just selective with the people she allowed in her life.

“I love you to, Y/N.” She mumbled just before closing the distance and kissing you softly.

“Mhm, I think we better go.” You said smiling goofily at her, “wait until we tell Kamala where we were.”

“Oh, no please, she is going to start arguing with us because we didn’t bring her over.”

“Don’t worry, I have it covered, I ask everyone for their signature.” You replied showing a small notebook you had stolen from Kamala’s room. “I think with this we are forgiven.”

“My hero.” Carol stated rolling her eyes, you winked at her before grabbing her hand and dragging her around the room to say goodbye.

Wanda watched from a distance as you and Carol said goodbye, your face never lost the brightness brough by your smile and your hand never left that of Carol who was following you with tenderness and love all around the room. The young witch knew she had messed up her chances with you, she knew the moment she saw you entered the Avenger’s Tower that what would happen that day would be a final conversation more than anything. Wanda felt her heart break to pieces, her eyes filling up with tears as she finally realized she was alone.

She had tried to cover her mistakes, and her emotions with a meaningless night of passion that had costed her happiness.

Now, as you entered the lift with a laughing Carol by your side, she realized that you had said goodbye to her a long time ago.

That day Wanda had broken your heart while hidden in the shadows.