#this is basically a slice of life fic if we’re being honest

[helaintoloki]

Bloom

pairing: Jacob Black x reader

warnings: yearning, heavy amounts of fluff, Jacob’s characterization is heavily retconned but in a good way (bc smeyer did him dirty)

notes: i honestly wasn’t sure about posting this but here it is. details of the story have been changed and this takes place outside of the movies in its own timeline. see more notes at the end

summary: you’re still adjusting to this new life you’ve found for yourself, but the promise of forever with your soulmate makes it all worth it

“You’ll catch a cold standing there all day.”

Your daze is broken by Emily’s lighthearted scolding, and you find yourself reluctantly pulling away from the wooden doorframe to join her in the kitchen. Outside it drizzles softly on the secluded cabin, and though the room is warm from the heat of the oven and the goods that bake inside, you still find yourself yearning for the arms of your boyfriend. This life is still new to you, you’re still adjusting to the idea that the mythical creatures featured in your favorite novels and horror films are real, still trying to comprehend the intensity of the imprint, and the distance makes it harder.

Emily, a veteran imprintee, notices your discomfort and shares your worry for the boys who have yet to return from patrol. She holds seniority over you in both age and experience, but she understands your feelings and knows exactly what you’re going through, so it isn’t surprising for the two of you to find yourselves together now. When the pack is out guarding the land, you cling to each other for comfort and company, and it makes the ache tolerable. You’d only been introduced to the group two weeks ago, and though you chose willingly to accept this new lifestyle, you still found yourself overwhelmed by it all. It was a normal response that would fade away with time, but until then the woman took it upon herself to see that you adjusted comfortably.

“I know you’re worried, but they’ll be back soon. Sam said it was just a routine patrol. And,” she continues with a playful grin, “it’s almost dinner time. You know how much those boys love to eat.”

Her lighthearted humor prompts a small quirk of your lips as you attempt to smile, but it’s hard to let yourself be at ease knowing your mate is out there and you can’t be with him. Routine patrol or not, you never know when danger will strike— he can handle himself, you know he can, but accidents happen don’t they? Your thoughts are beginning to spiral, but a gentle hand caresses the side of your face in what feels like maternal affection and pulls you back to earth. Suddenly, you find yourself feeling exhausted. It’s been a long day, a long week, and the chaos is starting to catch up with you now.

“I think you should lie down,” her honeyed voice croons, “get some rest.”

“But I’m supposed to help you make dinner,” you try to protest, but Emily merely shakes her head with a smile.

“I can manage,” she assures you. “Besides, I promised Jacob I’d take care of you until he gets back.”

The mere mention of his name is enough to knock the breath out of your lungs and have your heart aching for his presence; you knew you loved Jacob when he took you to watch the sunrise at First Beach when you were thirteen, but that juvenile love was nothing compared to the intensity you now felt burning in your chest for the boy who had become your soulmate. Noting the dazed look on your face, Emily smiles in reminiscence before giving your arms a comforting rub.

“Take the guest room down the hall,” she says. “The faster you fall asleep the faster the time will pass, and before you know it they’ll be back.”

The room is small, but the dim light of the bedside lamp and quilted sheets are cozy and inviting as you clamber under the covers and settle into the soft mattress below you. Picture frames line the wooden walls, a faded china pot filled to the brim with marigolds sits on the dresser crammed in the corner of the bedroom, and outside the rain begins to fall harder against the roof over your head. The blankets are heavy and warm, and it isn’t until now that you realize just how cold you are. All day you’d been glued to your spot by the door waiting for a sign of his return only to come up empty handed, and the wind certainly hadn’t done you any good. A distant howl sounds from outside, sending shivers down your spine as you burrow deeper into the sheets and watch the shadows grow along the walls. It isn’t hard to fall asleep then, and you find yourself immediately drifting into a dreamless sleep, waiting for Jacob’s return.

~~~

“Hey, what did I say? Save some for y/n and Jake.”

“What ever happened to ‘you snooze, you lose?’”

“Come on, man. Do you really want to see what Jacob will do to you if you eat his girlfriend’s dinner?”

The animated chatter is what wakes you first. As you start to focus you detect the sound of the radio playing quietly in the kitchen, tuned to Emily’s favorite station and playing a song you can’t quite recognize due to the voices that overpower the singer’s gentle hum. Though the lamp is still on beside you, the room feels darker somehow, and when your eyes finally begin to adjust after the last bought of grogginess is rubbed away, you spot the figure sitting quietly on the edge of your bed. He smiles, kind and gentle, eyes full of love and adoration, and you’re barely able to refrain from flinging yourself into his arms right then and there.

“Jacob?” You murmur, voice hoarse from sleep. “When did you get back?”

“About an hour ago,” he explains with a sheepish smile, reaching forward to caress your cheek with the tips of his calloused fingers.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You nearly pout, prompting a soft chuckle to come tumbling past his lips.

“You needed the extra sleep. I’m only waking you up now because dinner’s ready and you need to eat. I hope you’re hungry because Emily made spaghetti.”

The mere mention of food has your poor stomach grumbling loudly, and despite your embarrassment Jacob grins in amusement. The last time you’d had spaghetti had been before this whole imprint thing came about; Jacob hadn’t yet begun the change, and you’d sat outside his house with him and the Clearwaters and the Swans eating plates of pasta on your laps and laughing into the late hours of the night. Your face had ached from all the smiling you’d done, and you still remembered the stolen glances and lingering touches you’d shared with the boy that night. You realized then that Emily had made the dish specifically for you, an attempt to maintain normalcy in your now vastly changing life, and you appreciated the gesture.

“Let’s go,” Jacob says then, taking your hands and helping you out of bed. He allows you a moment to freshen up before leading you out into the main room where the group of boys sit crowded around the table chatting in between bites of food. The space seems almost comically small compared to their size and stature and energy, but somehow they all seem to fit.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Embry greets teasingly upon your entrance, earning a warning glare from your partner.

You smile sheepishly in return and offer a small wave of greeting before shuffling towards the stove to fix your plates. Emily smiles upon your arrival and asks, “Sleep okay?”

“I did. Thank you… for this. For everything,” you express earnestly.

“Hey, we’re family now. You don’t have to thank me,” she replies kindly. “Besides, it’s nice having you around.”

“Y/n/n,” Jacob calls, pulling your attention away from the woman. “Let’s sit outside for a minute.”

You look to Emily for approval, afraid that your absence during dinner will be considered rude, but she merely gives you an encouraging smile before handing you two plates of spaghetti and sending you off. Jacob holds the door as you maneuver your way out onto the porch, taking refuge on the wooden bench hidden away in the corner of the deck by the hanging pots of plants and greenery. The rain is gone now, and though the air is cold and frigid you hardly notice due to Jacob’s body heat enveloping your own.

You eat in silence for a while, merely enjoying being in each other’s company without feeling the need to speak. His presence is enough to soothe the ache that had made a home in your chest during his absence, the unspoken connection growing stronger with each second spent beside him. Your plate of spaghetti is long forgotten as you sit and admire your mate, taking in the sharpness of his features and the warmth of his deep brown eyes, reaching forward to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen loose from his braid— your handy work from earlier in the day, before he had left for his shift.

“You okay there?” Jacob teases with a grin, noting the way you absently run your fingers along the outlines of his tattoo.

“I just missed you is all,” you murmur quietly. “It’s hard when you’re gone.”

“I know. But it’ll get easier with time,” he soothes. “Thank you for sticking with all of this, with me. I know it isn’t easy.”

“I love you, Jacob. Sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind, like nothing makes sense, but when I look at you…”

“The other stuff doesn’t matter anymore,” he finishes for you, swallowing down the lump in his throat before pulling you into his embrace. Despite his brute strength, he holds you so delicately in his arms, like you’re a prized treasure meant to be handled with care. He’s warm, almost unbearably warm, and still you find yourself burrowing further into his chest for the comfort you’ve been seeking all day. Resting his chin atop of your head, Jacob cards his fingers through your hair and begins to murmur sweet nothings into your ear.

“Do you remember the sunrise on First Beach?” You whisper after a moment of silence. Though you can’t see it, Jacob grins at the memory.

“How could I forget? You fell asleep in the sand and I had to carry you back to my house. Seeing you asleep in my bed made me realize you weren’t just my best friend anymore— I think I always knew, even before the change, I knew it would be you. It’s always been you.”

Your heart feels as if it’s going to burst at the seams with Jacob’s confession, and when he gently tilts your head upward to meet his gaze you follow the movement without a second thought. His warm breath fans over your face, his eyes looking upon you so deeply it feels as if he’s staring into your soul, and the moment your lips begin to quiver with desperate anticipation is when Jacob finally pulls you in for a kiss.

His lips are sweet and soft, and his hands are warm as he cups your whole face in his palms. Nothing else matters nor exists around you anymore, and the only thing your frazzled mind can focus on his him— his smell, his touch, the feel of his hair tangled in between your finger tips as you pull his braid apart, the heat radiating from his bare chest. Your heart is thumping loudly in your rib cage, and you think Jacob can hear it by the way he begins to smile into your kiss. You feel whole and unconditionally loved by the man who bares his soul to you, who is sworn to protect you until his last breath, who has loved you since you were children and will continue to love you forever.

The rain begins to fall again, but neither of you notice. Instead, you enjoy your moment of peace tucked away on the porch of Emily’s cabin.

This is your forever, and you can’t imagine anything more perfect than this.

notes: thanks for sticking around until the end, hopefully you enjoyed it! i’ve been rereading new moon and when i got to the part where they spend the day at emily’s cabin i knew i had to write this. the wolf pack always seemed like such a cool group to be around and definitely deserved more than to be used as a plot device, and Jacob deserved a better story than what Meyer gave him. I did my best to change some of the details such as having Jacob keep his long hair and good personality and such. Anyway, requests are open so if you’d like to see more twilight pieces just shoot me an ask! And please be sure to check out this link to help support the Quileute tribe.

[bibbykins]

Vulnerable in The Dead of Night (M)

I wrote this QUICK, so if it’s bad, I’m so sorry, but I just wanted to get this out ASAP, so I hope you like it! Also, pls feel free to give me your thoughts or ask any questions, I love to answer them!

NOTE: This is part of The Household’s Bunny series, which I recommend you read before this bc otherwise, it may not make sense.

Summary: Taehyung finds himself consumed with self-loathing and crushing loneliness. You find Taehyung standing alone in the kitchen late at night, happy to see him again for the first time in weeks. The usually playful and flirty man is left with his feelings when faced with you in the dead of night.

Genre: Soft Yandere! Taehyung x Chubby! Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+, soft yandere tendencies, obsessive/possessive thoughts, crying, loneliness, self-loathing, abandonment issue, adopted person feeling unworthy of love, kissing, hickeys, cunnilingus, precum, blowjob, swallowing, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, this is a yandere fic so unhealthy relationships are throughout this series

Taehyung felt like he was losing his mind, and maybe he was. What could he be doing wrong? How can you not know how he feels? How can Jimin get his point across better than him? 

Do you not like him?

His pacing in the kitchen ceased at this thought. 

No.

Surely, no. You liked him, right? You told him you did.

Although, that was before he and Namjoon had basically disappeared from your life these last two weeks. Is he that replaceable? 

The nagging insecurity of his childhood crept up. Flashes of tears, isolation, and craving for love tugged at his mind. He shook his head. He wasn't a 6 year old watching his father leave him. He wasn't a 14 year old in a foster home. He just wasn't that 17 year old in a new home, trying to adapt. That wasn't him anymore. Taehyung was loved now, by many. So why not by you? 

He blew out a shaky breath before finishing his glass of room temperature water. He was still dressed in his suit, having just gotten home from the final session of the blasted weeks-long project that kept him from you. His tie was more suffocating than ever but could not find a reason he deserved to undo it.

Too enraptured in his own thoughts, he didn't hear the soft pad of slippers downstairs or the tiny pants of regaining your breath from the nine flights you just went down in the dead of night, "Tae?" Your breathy voice sliced through the chaos in his mind and he let out a breathy chuckle, thinking he was going insane, hallucinating your voice.

Truly, he felt useless. He felt sub-human. He felt every piece of shit adult who turned his back on him must be justified if this was the best he could do. If a smokescreen of lovability with no love was his peak. If being alone with only hallucinations was the closest he could get to companionship-

He nearly choked on his water when he felt arms wrap tightly around his midsection, "Tae, you're home!" Your voice cleared the cloud of self-loathing and he looked down to see your half manicured nails, most of the polish chipped off. He slowly placed his hands on yours and was relieved to find you weren't a hallucination, "I missed you." He could feel your mouth moving against his suit jacket as you squeezed him a bit harder.

He let his eyes close as he relished in the feeling of you nuzzling into him, missing him. 

Worried when he said nothing, you moved to detach yourself but he held your hands firmly, "Tae?" You questioned only for him to hum lightly.

"I missed you so much, little lamb." His voice was soft, the softest you'd ever heard it as his thumb stroked your palm, "I didn't know you missed me." His voice held a fondness you had never heard from him before. Usually, his tone was light and playful but now, he was almost melancholic.

Did he genuinely feel that way? The panic of one of the men you found yourself falling for each day thinking you didn't like him as much as you did take over and you moved for you both to face each other. Tae merely blinked before you were in front of him, hands holding his face, not searching in his eyes but looking to express something with yours, "Of course I missed you." You pouted, "You all mean the world to me." 

He searched for any sign of a lie. He'd seen it time and time again from people in the entertainment industry, but with you, it was nothing but pure honesty, "Little lamb." He commanded your attention even though he already had it as you let your hands settle on each of his shoulders, "You mean that?" 

"I would never lie to you." You didn't miss a beat before looking at him further, realizing he is not acting like he usually does, "Are you okay?" You asked lightly, eyes traveling over his form, hands working to undo his tie as you've done before when he asked you to help him, "Oh gosh, that must feel so suffocating this late at night." You mumbled and undid two of his top buttons. He grabbed your hands as you worked at the second button, making you look up.

"Do you wanna know how I feel, baby?" He asked, eyes a little darker now as he drank in your form, wearing a mere long shirt that reached the middle of your thighs with no shorts in sight. You nodded and his grip on you tightened but wasn't painful, "Jealous." He rasped and you looked up, confused, "Jealous that you don't cum for me or crave me like you do everyone else." His voice was strained despite neglecting Namjoon's own lack of experience with you.

You blinked, "I mean if you want sex, that's okay." He let go of your hands, one of his hands moving to grip your hip as the other cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb, "But you know that sex is just that, I mean, I like closeness and it makes me feel good, so I do it. But I also know that being sexually attracted to me doesn't mean you want me as your partner- oh!" He cut you off by pressing you roughly against the wall, his hand now cradling the back of your head to prevent you from getting hurt.

His gaze burned into you and you averted your eyes but the hand behind your head went to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his own, and what a fierce gaze it was, "Who made you think that?" He snapped and continued when you struggled to respond, "Who convinced you that you're not just as worthy of pleasure as you are intimacy? Love? Companionship?" 

You were dumbstruck. Part of you wanted to ask how long he had because you had a list. You remembered every person who made you feel that way whereas they surely forgot you moments after you either did or didn't succumb to their desires. Instead, your eyes began to water, "Why are you…?" You forced out, blinking back your tears, "I don't...I don't understand." You shook your head.

"I don't want to fuck you so bad just because you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen." Your breath hitched and your mind couldn't properly process his words, "I crave you." He breathed, leaning down, "I've been agonizing over how to come to terms with the fact that I feel so fucking strongly for someone who has no obligation to feel the same." Before you could even respond, he placed his mouth on yours in a bruising kiss.

You responded immediately, trying your best to convey your feelings in this sloppy kiss, tongues intertwined as you needily moaned when his hand wrapped your leg around him, but he didn't grind into you, he just pulled your closer. The kissing lessened in urgency and increased in passion as he gripped you with a near bruising force, "Tae…" You groaned into his mouth and found yourself nearly crying. You held him closer and he squeezed you to him.

"Yes, baby?" He moved to kiss lightly at the corner of your mouth, mouth moving to. kiss at your tears. He didn't need to ask you why you were crying. He knew. He felt it too. He felt the relief that came with being held close, being kissed, and is wanted as much as another wants you.

"Do you mean it?" You asked, crying more now, "You…"

"I feel so strongly for you." He affirmed and you shook your head, having a hard time believing him, "And that's so frightening because you could just leave and I..." He breathed shakily, head tucked into your neck, "I don't know how everyone else is holding it together when I know they feel the same-"

"I do too." You had to say it before you wouldn't, "All of you, I do." You sniffled, "But I can't find a reason why you guys would feel anything for me too." Your voice was breaking and he just crushed you to him further, "And I don't know if they feel that way, and-" You cried further, "I-I need to go to bed, I need to-" You tried to pull away from his crushing embrace to no avail. 

You whined a bit at this. Your mind was scattered, and you didn't know what to do. There was so much going on yet nothing going on at all. You received a confession and so did he and yet, everything felt so complicated. The doubt of anyone wanting to be with you strangled your very being and made you want to stay in your room and never think about it again. Live alone in mediocrity and loneliness.

"Promise me you're not scared." His words were demanding but his tone was pleading, "I...I know it's a lot and I know I never act like this, but just, don't avoid it, don't avoid me." He sniffled and you relaxed, "The fact of the matter is, we feel the same about each other, the rest will come in time." He was regaining his composure and slowly you began to calm down. He was right. It was just you and him. Everyone else is at bay, they will get their time. You don't have to wake everyone up to know their feelings. You have time, "I know Jimin said his piece to you too, and we're not going anywhere, so please, don't go." His voice was stable again as he tucked in the scared and lonely little boy that haunts him sometimes and set his mind straight.

You nodded against him, honest and understanding of his words. You were nervous, sure, but only time would tell. If you run, you break your heart. But if you stay, you could either get your heart broken or get everything you want. It's a risk that you don't know how to calculate, but it's a risk you're willing to take. Maybe Taehyung is right and everyone feels the same about you in a way you could only dream. Just maybe.

He lets you go and you look at him, flawless as ever. His face was minorly red, tears minuscule and long gone by now, "We should go to bed." You murmured as Taehyung reached up to wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks and he nodded. 

He held your hand as he pressed the elevator button, lightly scolding you for taking nine flights of stairs in slippers with no traction, "Wow, you tell me you tell me you like me and now I'm getting chewed out." You giggled, the feeling of someone fussing over your safety was quite refreshing.

He looked at you incredulously, "If you fell or hurt yourself, all hell would break loose." He chided and you hummed.

You broke out into a goofy smile, "You like me." You giggled and the man next to you gave you a side-eyed glare before giving up on containing his own smile.

"Yeah well," He paused for a moment, smiling to himself, "You like me back." He chuckled and you felt your face heat up. 

He squeezed your hand and you watched the floors tick up to your own, "Tae?"

"Yes?" He asked, noticing your voice got quieter, more unsure. 

"Do you have anything to do tomorrow or do you want to stay with me tonight?" You forced out, nervous he would say no. 

Little did you see, he broke out into a cheerful smile and thanked his lucky stars before responding coolly, "I'd be honored to stay with you tonight." 

The elevator dinged just in time and you held his hand all the way to your bedroom before finally standing to face him. You studied his face for the nth time tonight. He was still beautiful each time and the moonlight only further deified his beauty further, "You're all so beautiful." You mused, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"And all yours." He breathed.

You scoffed, "Sounds impossible." 

"Start believing, my darling." His voice was as smooth and deep as ever and you looked into his eyes and found an emotion you'd never seen before. 

Maybe you could do this. Maybe Taehyung was right and all 7 of them felt the same. Maybe you were deserving of sex and love.

And quite possibly it was your own resignation of maybe of the whole situation that made you reach up and push his suit jacket off of his shoulders. Confused, he still shrugged off the jacket, letting it fall to the floor. You reached up and began undoing the third button on his shirt. With more of his chest exposed you reached your hands up and feel the exposed skin of his chest softly, "Baby, what are you- fuck!" You cut him off, leaning up to suck onto his neck harshly before licking the spot. Your breath hit his neck, "You have got to be careful or I may not be able to control myself." You merely smiled before licking a stripe along the column of his throat and you could feel the vibration of his groan against your tongue before kissing along his jaw, "I don't want you to think I just confessed to you so I could come up here and-" He cut himself off with a strangled growl as you shifted your leg up for your thigh to brush against his erection.

"I like how cumming feels knowing you're still going to like me the next day." You spoke honestly and Taehyung wanted to find every person who didn't make you feel that way, "Unless you don't want to do anything, which is fine." You nuzzled into his neck, "I just, want to be close to you in more ways than one." 

He pulled back to look at you properly and found no doubt in your eyes. With Jimin, sexual acts had been a show of emotions. Now that you thought about it, even what happened with Yoongi and Jin felt like something different than what you were used to. In each sexual encounter, there was a level of care, making it feel so alien. Even with Jungkook and Hoseok, there was something there that you didn't know, intimacy. And yet, it felt so good.

Nevertheless, he asked, "Are you sure?" You nodded and he smiled, head dipping down to kiss you deeply. You continued your work on the buttons of his shirt while your tongues felt each other. Your hands went to his belt, undoing the Italian leather before you pulled away from his mouth and began kissing down his neck and his hands intertwined with your hair, "Baby, you don't have to make me cum." He breathed and you sucked at his neck to protest.

"I want to feel you in my mouth." You whined, hand reaching into the pants you unbuttoned to grip his dick over his briefs, "Please?" 

He nodded, eyes heavy, unsure how he could ever say no to you in the first place, "On the bed though, I don’t want you to hurt your knees." His voice was soft and you giggled at his wholesome request but nodded anyway.

You sat on the bed as he rid himself of his mostly taken-off clothing. You both tangled into each other as he kissed while he laid over you on your bed. You lightly pushed him to flip over so you were on top of him, legs straddling his hips. His hands glided over your thighs, squishing the skin gleefully as you continued peppering kissing down his chest, pressing your core into his bare erection, making you let out a needy moan, “You’re so hard.” You whispered, mouth sliding down his body.

Before you knew it, you reached his dick and of course, it was pretty. You wrapped your hands around the base and he sucked in a breath through his teeth before you licked at the precum at the tip before taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and he let out the most delicious grunt,” So good to me, my little lamb.” He praised you in a gravelly voice and you felt yourself get wetter as his hands curled into your hair, “Fuck, just like that.” He groaned as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him further. The dark room was filled with sounds of you drooling all over his erection as he praised you and was very vocal with his pleasure. The praise made you moan against his dick in delight, “My little lamb likes to be praised, huh?” He cooed, voice strained and breath heavy as you nodded, never letting his length escape your lips, “So perfect for me, aren’t you?” You hummed in delight as he threw his head back, fingers tensing in your hair as he did his best to not pull it or push your head down. However, determined to please, you guided his hand to push you further, nodding to let him know it was okay. He was gentle as he guided your head, his other hand intertwining with yours as a sweet gesture. You bobbed rhythmically and you could hear his noises becoming less and less controlled, “Fuck, I’m getting close.” He warned and you responded with a strong suck that made his hips lift off the bed, “Where do you want me to cum?” He asked urgently and you answered by looking up at him through your lashes with a look way too innocent for someone about to drink down his cum. It was that look that sent him over the edge and you felt him cum in your mouth. You drank him dry before letting his dick go with a resounding pop.

“Did I do well?” You asked and, his hand still in your hair, pulled you to him as he nodded before planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Perfect, baby, perfect.” He was breathless but still intent on kissing you deeply as he sat up, hands going to your thighs to grip the hem of your shirt, “Can I taste you, little lamb?” He asked and you nodded.

“Please.” You whined as he kissed your throat, going over the hickeys you had from the other me in the house, all of them mostly faded except for the one Jimin gave you. He lifted the shirt, only detaching from marking you to strip you of your clothing. He laid you down as he slipped your panties off, groaning at how you were glistening.

“You this wet for me, sweetheart?” He spoke huskily and you hummed desperately as his finger slid from your clit to your drenched hole slowly, “I really wanted to go slow, but fuck,” His finger slid in with little resistance much to his delight, “You’re just so ready for me, aren’t you?” You nodded, panting as his finger fucked slowly into you and he raised a brow, expecting you to be verbal.

“Yes, yes, I’m ready Sir, please.” You gasped out, fighting the urge to wiggle your hips as you confirmed with the honorific you trusted him enough to give yourself fully.

“Just because you’ve been so sweet to me,” He leaned down, breath fanning over your drenched core, “I won’t make you beg this time.” He kissed your clit, making you twitch before his tongue licked a stripe from your clenching hole to your clit, making you gasp, “You taste so fucking good, no wonder Jin and Yoongi were so smug for days.” He rasped and felt you clench around him further, “Oh?” He chuckled darkly as his tongue flicked your clit, “You like when I talk about the others? You wish they were here watching you squirm around my finger?” You writhed in delight as he slid another finger in, “You wish they were here helping me get you off so pretty, holding you down so you’ll be still like a good girl?” He teased you and it only soaked his fingers and tongue further as he slurped you intently. Taehyung had been waiting what felt like his whole life to have you come apart in his clutch and feel your sweet cum on his tongue.

He tasted you intently, fucking into you a little quicker as he let you squirm around him. He would be lenient and kind this time around, because of both of your desperations and tearful confessions. There was so much to feel and so much to taste, and he just wanted to have you crumble in his clutch. You were well on your way to be his, theirs, and he would be yours in return. He wanted to channel his hunger for you as he moaned into your pussy. You were already getting off by making him cum and now, you were unsure how long you would last if he kept flexing his tongue and running it over your clit as he curled his fingers in your cunt, hitting a particularly sensitive spot that made your back arch off the bed.

He murmured dirty and sweet nothings into your pussy as you clutched the sheets with a death grip, doing your best to not push his head into your core. You wanted him to have total control over your body and pleasure in this moment, “You’re getting close.” He cooed teasingly and you nodded, spurring him to take his fingers out.

You cried out as he chuckled, sucking your juices from the two fingers, “Please, I wanna cum, please, please!” You whimpered, pushing your hips up as he let his fingers go from his mouth.

“Shit, you’re so fucking cute.” He groaned, hands pinning your hips to the bed as you squirmed, “I’ll make you cum, baby, don’t worry.” He kissed at your clit, eliciting a desperate cry, “You just have to be really good for me and cum while I fuck you with my tongue.” He licked at your hole as you nodded eagerly, “Can you be good for me and do that?” His voice was dripping with lust.

“Yes, Sir, I can, I will, please!” You babbled, having been so close to cumming just moments ago.

You calling him Sir made his teasing nature disappear as he slid his tongue into you with a groan on his end and with you nearly screaming as he fucked into you. He moved inside of you as your walls fluttered, slowly clenching more and more as you could feel your high coming. It was when his hand went to rub quick circles onto your clit that you came with a strangled moan.

His tongue fucked you through your high and he only pulled away when your back settled back onto the bed and you were trying to catch your breath. He kissed your stomach before going to put on his briefs as he slid your panties back on. He hovered over you, placing a quick kiss on your mouth as you wrapped your arms around him, humming in bliss, “You’re such a good girl.” You keened at his praise as he placed a kiss on your cheek before rolling over to pull you in his arms, holding you tight.

“Now you get to be smug.”You giggled tiredly, eyes closing as you listened to his heartbeat.  

He chuckled, equally tired as he kissed the crown of your head, “I already am.” He mused, “Goodnight, little lamb.” His voice was soft and sweet as you could only muster another blissful hum.

Now, you were starting to understand what was so different about all of your sexual, or near-sexual, interactions with almost everyone. It was the emotion in it. 

You’ve had people say they liked you, get what they want, and then never see you again. However, the guys, barring Tae and Jimin, hadn’t said they liked you, but they tried to communicate it. They held you close, they stayed to cuddle with you after. There was care in the way they touched your body and it was liberating. It was frightening, the idea of getting used to something that could just go away one day, but nevertheless, you let your consciousness fade, knowing he would be there tomorrow morning.

Tip Jar

[wandanatfluff]

The Life That's Left To Live - Part I - Take Me Home

Series (This part:) Fluff

Prologue | Part I

Summary series: You’re a little girl when the avengers find you. Natasha becomes kind of a mother to you. Then about 7 years later when you’re 21 you go live with the avengers again for a while, because they need your help with something. The avengers are like a family to you. Wanda is still new to the avengers and doesn’t know what happened in your past. You sleep in Wanda’s room in an extra bed and the two of you become friends. You are a quite happy, social and spontaneous girl, but there’s a sad/depressed side to you that sometimes comes to the surface.

Summary of this part: Natasha calls you with information about your brother and you go to the Avengers compound, where you meet Wanda.

Pairing: Natasha (mother figure/mentor) x Female Reader Wanda (platonic (for now at least)) x Female Reader

Warnings for this part: -

Word count: 2.2 K

A/n: To be honest I think it turned out okay, I spent quite a while on this. Title: Take Me Home, by Chord Overstreet. The fic isn’t directly based or related to the song. The title just fits ;-). The series title is a line from Love Is War, by RUNAGROUND. I hope you enjoy it!

Source: Pinterest

Absentmindedly you listen to the person in front of you. Some annoying colleague that is going on and on about a something that you would have done wrong. They had been going on for almost ten minutes and by now, you had stopped listening. Your mind drifted off to happy memories. It was something you did quite often. By reliving old memories once in a while, they would become recent in your mind again, which made it easier to go back to them, when you were feeling low. You thought about your younger self on the back of your brother’s bike, your small arms wrapped around his waist, your head pressed against his back. It had been his birthday and he had gotten a new bike. You didn’t like bikes, but when he asked for you to ride along the neighborhood with him, you gave in. Your childhood was filled with a lot of fear, but your brother always seemed to take that away. He was in almost all of your joyful memories. He was your safe place.

Your phone chimed, snapping you back into reality. You excused yourself from the ‘conversation’ and left the room. Once you close the door, you answer your phone.

“I owe you Nat! You saved me!”

“Hey Y/n… What did I save you from?”

“Some colleague, who was being incredibly tedious.”

“Need me to kill anyone?”

“Uhm… No. But what are you calling about?”

“We got new information about your brother and we need your help with it.” You fell silent for a moment at the mention of your brother.

“Oh... What is it?”

“I’m sorry Y/n, I can’t tell you over the phone. You’ll have to come to the compound.”

“Okay… I can do that. I’ll leave tomorrow morning and be there around dinner time?”

“Perfect. See you then.”

After cooking yourself some dinner you went to your room to pack. You dug deep in your closet to find your weekend bag. It had been a while since your last trip. You don’t travel that much. To be honest, you don’t travel at all. Your daily routine leaves just enough time for your daily work-out, some me-time and occasionally a movie. Staying busy avoids overthinking stuff, or well… overthinking more specific things. It took you a while to build up a routine. Have breakfast, work out, drive to the office, do your work, pretend to listen to the gossip from your fellow colleagues during the lunch break. Not that anything about your life is very challenging, but it’s just enough to keep you satisfied and to survive. Every now and then when you have a day off, you go shopping with a friend.

You are quite the cheerful girl. You are spontaneous and kind, people get along with you. You have a few friends, but none really close. The only close friends or family you have, are Nat, Steve, Tony, Clint, Thor and Bruce and you haven’t seen them in the while.

You had to empty your entire closet, but you finally found your white weekend bag with the subtle, pastel flowers pattern. You smile at it. It had been a gift from Nat. You used to have a boring and old grey bag, so she had bought you a new one. After you throw the bag on your bed, you start to fill it with clothes. You had no idea how long you’d be gone, so you packed for five days. Once your bag was fully stuffed you zipped it closed and threw it over your shoulder, making you way back to the living room.

You throw your bag next to the counter and are just about to get yourself some coffee, when the bel rings. You grab your phone and see Natasha standing in front of your door through the camera. Natasha had bought you a doorbell with a camera, to be sure you were as safe as possible when she wasn’t there. Aware of the camera she smiled at you through it. You chuckle at the sight and walk to the door to open it for her. Moments like this remind you of how amazing Natasha is. She had the key to you appartement, but chose not to use it, so she wouldn’t unnecessarily scare you.

“Surpriseee, figured I’d pick you up myself!”

“Hey Nat, come in!”

You take her jacket and hang it on the coat rack.

“How are you doing?”

“Good, actually. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just coffee, please.”

“Got it.”

You go back to the counter and get yourself and Nat some coffee. You open the fridge and get two pieces of the pie that is left from your graduation ceremony. With two slices of cake and the coffee you go to the living room. You hand Natasha, who has sat down on the couch, her coffee and put the cake on the side table.

“Oehh, is there something to celebrate?”

“Yup… I got a job!”

“Y/n! I am so proud of you. I knew you could do it!” Tears begin to well in Natasha’s eyes and she puts down her coffee to give you a hug. You bury you head in her neck and let out a small sniff. She knew what it meant for you to get your first real job. The small party one of your friends threw had been basic. Everyone had congratulated you, but Natasha was the only one who truly took her time to express her happiness. She was the only one who knew what it meant to you. It had been a long way, a long, long way, but you made it! You did it!

She had been there with Steve when you graduated. She had driven six hours, just because she knew what it would mean to you, having her there. It had been a surprise, she hadn’t told you she was coming, so when you saw her from the stage you had broken down in tears.

You catch up a bit, after which you both go to bed. You turn the sofa into a bed for Natasha so she can sleep on it, but before you rest your eyes, Natasha helps you fill another suitcase with clothing. She laughed at the sight of your single bag and suggested you’d pack another suitcase.

*** After six hours of sleep Natasha wakes you up. You take the time to get out of your bed, you take a shower and put on some make-up. In a pair of light skinny jeans and a lively orange tank top, that complemented you tan, you sit down at the kitchen island. Natasha had made you breakfast and after you finished it, you got in the car. The ride would take about six hours, so before hitting the road, you stopped at the supermarket to get some snacks and drinks for on the way. After three hours you had a pit-stop at the MacDonald’s to get some lunch. You ordered the food via the McDrive and ate it in the car on the parking lot. When the food was finished you hit the road again. You had switched places, meaning Natasha would finish the drive to the compound. Natasha was still sipping from her milkshake in one hand, her other hand on the wheel. You leaned against the door with you head on your arm. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin as you dozed off.

A bump in the road woke you up.

You shot up straight. When you realized there was no danger, you leaned back into you chair, resting you head against the headrest.

“Slept well, princess?” Nat teasingly said.

“Nat!” You stumped her shoulder with your elbow. She grinned, but kept her eyes on the road. A comfortable silence fell and you closed your eyes again, not intending to sleep again though.

“No, but for real. How have you been sleeping?” You knew what she meant. She wanted to know if you still had nightmares. They would still terrorize your nights sometimes. You would wake up sweating and shaking. Wide awake you would sit in the middle of your bed at midnight, tears running down your cheeks.

“Uhm, okay, I guess. Some nights better than others.” She turned her head to look at you, giving you a sweet smile. She laid her hand on your leg, her palm up. You put your hand in hers, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Now we’re talking about sleeping, a few rooms are under renovations, so the rooms are full. You can sleep in Wanda’s room. She has an extra bed on her room.”

“Is she okay with that?”

“I think so.”

“You didn’t ask her!?”

“No, but I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

“Nat…”

“Just kidding, I told her she would have to share her room with you.”

“And…?”

“She was fine with it.”

*** With your suitcase in your hand, your bag over your shoulder and music in your ears, you enter Wanda’s room. On the right side of the room there’s a king-sized bed with two chairs and a coffee table on the left side of the bed, next to the window that covers the entire back side of the room, providing a view of the trees and water next to the compound. On the left side of the room there is a large wardrobe, a door to the bathroom and in the corner there’s a single bed, parallel to the window. Above the bed there’s a shelf with a plant, some books and a light string. The room wasn’t very decorated, there weren’t many personal items. One wall was painted in a grey tone with a hint of purple and there was a purple bedspread, covering the lower side of Wanda’s bed. On the nightstand was a photo of Wanda, standing next to a boy with white hair. You figured it must be her brother, Natasha had told you about the twins and the tragedy. Apart from the photo and some plants, there was nothing personal in the room.

You walked to the bed you’d be sleeping in and dropped your bags on the floor. You sat down on the bed and with your feet still on the ground you let your back rest on the bed, closing your eyes as you take the time to take in the feeling of home. To be honest you feel more home at the Avengers compound then at your own appartement. After a few minutes you got up from the bed and put on some upbeat music as you start to make the bed.

Singing along to the music cheerfully, you put the duvet in its cover. With both corners of the blanket in your hands you shake the cover over the duvet. With the music in both your ears you didn’t hear someone come in, so when you feel a hand on your shoulder, you are slightly startled. You quickly stop the music and take out your AirPods. You turn around to lay your eyes on a beautiful woman with coper locks flowing over her shoulders.

“You must be Y/n.”

Wanda knew who you were, your name would regularly come up in a conversation. She didn’t know much about you other than your name. You were kind of a mystery to her. She was new to the team and hadn’t personally met you yet. One thing is clear to her, though. No one bothered to mention how gorgeous you were. With a lump in her throat, she looked into your eyes, once you had turned around to face her. The woman that was standing in front of her seemed like a nice, cheerful person. She had a beautiful smile on her face, but there was something in her eyes that showed her happiness hadn’t always been a given. She took her in, her hair up in a high pony tail with curtain bangs accentuating her face, she was wearing an orange tank top, which showed off her tanned skin, on top of light flared jeans and elegant black ankle boots. Jeez, she was beautiful.

“Guilty as charge.” You responded. “It’s my pleasure meeting you…”

Witty too. You reminded her of her brother.

“Wanda.”

“Ah Wanda! Natasha told me so much about you. Nice to finally meet you. Oh, and Natasha said I could sleep here for the time being. Is that okay with you?”

Natasha talked about her? That was a good thing… right? To be honest Wanda was rather intimidated by Natasha. Even though she had been welcomed with open arms into the group, once, you know, she had switched sides, it had been quite hard for her to adjust to the group.

“Yeah, she told me. It’s fine”

“Cool”

“Do you need help with the bed?”

“Oh no, I’m done.”

She noticed the bed was nicely made and saw your weekend bag, half under your bed.

“You can use that dresser if you want, and if you want to hang any of your clothes, you can put them in my closet.”

“Oh thanks!”

“No problem.”

“I was about to start dinner, the rest should be back in an hour.”

“I’ll make sure I’ll be there on time, I wouldn’t want to miss whatever culinary art you intend to make.” You said teasingly.

“Great, I’ll see you in an hour then

[skellebonez]

I hear people talking about Sandy basically being a human shield and it gave me an idea with #79 for Silktea Angst. Huntsman notices some scars on Sandy's back and when he tells Huntsy he got them while protecting his friends it leads the spider demon to think, less then highly of team MK. (not that he thought highly of them to begin with) - Pixel Anon

Well I can’t argue with that! After all... I was hoping to expedite a chapter two of a certain fic I started...

How did you get that scar?

Huntsman went over his clothes one last time before returning back to the spider lair, making absolutely sure there was no left over cat hair clinging to his coat or pants. No one could know where he just was. No one could know anything about the conversation he and Sandy has just shared. No one could find out about...

A shudder wove its way up his back, born of concern and fear of being discovered. He couldn’t believe he told Sandy that much.

But he did. He hadn't told the other man every single thing, but if anyone knew he'd certainly have hell to pay. Something about Sandy, the warmth and openness he held despite what Huntsman had done, just drew all of it out of him. Maybe it was the fact that the warmth he exuded was such a stark contrast to the coldness added to his home since the Lady Bone Demon arrived.

He couldn't even blame it on the idea that the tea was secretly a truth serum. He'd told everything before he'd even taken that first sip.

And then that smile...

A thump resounded through his chest.

... oh.

"... oh no," Huntsman whispered to himself as he snuck back into his home, careful not to alert anyone to his presence and careful not to let his internal revelation stumble him as he felt that same odd thump in his chest as before. The one from when the other smiled at him, the second smile that was far softer than the ones he was greeted with before.

It was at that moment Huntsman knew... he may have messed up.

~

"You're back sooner than I expected," Sandy said nonchalantly as he opened his door at 5 past midnight the next evening. He gave him the other kind of smile, the one that was too wide and open for his liking, and welcomed him inside without question.

Huntsman hadn't needed to sneak out this time at least. He'd had time to plan, make sure that he covered his tracks properly like a good hunter did when going after their prey, and to come up with a reasonable explanation for his absence in the night. Given what they were planning behind the Lady Bone Demon's back that was easy enough.

While Syntax would be a better lead for finding certain things they need they needed him back in the lair to plan and build. Huntsman, on the other hand, could sneak and find and bring things back much easier than his more technologically impressed counterpart. And while he may have lied about where exactly he was going to hopefully get what he needed, Sandy...

He knew Sandy wasn't just muscles and tea, even if he had mocked him for it before. The boat he lived on was proof enough of that.

"I want to tell you more," he started slowly, sitting down on the couch and watching as the calico cat that had approached him last time stood and sat on the arm across from him. "And... Ask for your assistance."

Sandy paused what he was doing, tea cups only left partly filled for a moment before he continued as. "With what?"

"My Queen has a plan," Huntsman began, and this time he didn't hold anything back.

He told Sandy about what really happened at the festival. How he'd seen her true face after stealing the demon revealing mirror. How MK had snuck into their lair and had fought Spider Queen in shrunken form (he did not miss the shock and confusion and then a sad realization on Sandy's face at this revelation, but shouldn't he have known that already? it wasn't that long before he'd gone to retrieve the flower in the first place). How they had a plan, something that may just be enough to halt her provided they were able to complete it. How he and his two counterparts had looked at their plans and realized they may not have enough time on their own.

How Sandy's offer was probably one of the only things he could think of that could help them at this point. When they were quickly running out of time.

Sandy had brought him some tea half way through his explanation and said nothing the entire time. Just kept watching him and nodding his head to show he was listening.

"And now you know exactly the depths of the trouble we're in," Huntsman finished gravely. He held his empty cup in his hands, glowering down at the loose leaves in the bottom.

"I'm gonna be honest with you," Sandy started, swirling his own cup with a far off look on his face. "I didn't... I didn't know most of this. MK never told us about going into the sewers."

"What?" Huntsman asked incredulously, looking at the other in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"I am!" Sandy insisted, face firm and worried. "Until last night I didn't even know it was the Lady Bone Demon you were working for! He hasn't told us any of this, just that someone was working with the Spider Queen and that's it. This explains his reaction to the game though..." He trailed off, looking deeper into his cup as if the tea would spill all of the secrets he needed to know.

"I thought heroes were supposed to be more honest than that." Huntsman scowled, jolting a bit as the calico climbed into his lap. At least this time he didn't have to worry about removing every cat hair, stray cats were common in the city and it wouldn't be odd for him to encounter one while out, though he would certainly still try.

"MK's a good kid," Sandy said softly, standing with a sigh and rubbing the back of his neck. "But... I think he thinks he has to deal with this on his own. To prove something."

"That's stupid."

This time Sandy leveled him with a glower, rough and harsh and not unlike the one he was met with during their fight. It made him freeze, a cold shudder running through him at the memory of the scenery around them he'd watched whiz past him as he ran.

The mountain that was more crescent moon hole than mountain now.

But that glower only lasted a moment, Sandy sighing and rubbing his face. He looked... tired. More tired than just from staying up late... had he slept after their last encounter?

"MK's not stupid," he defended as he sat back down. "But I can't deny that his choice to not tell us anything, no matter the reason, is foolish at best and dangerous at worst. I need to talk to him."

"Will he believe you figured all this out on your own?" Huntsman raised an eyebrow. The calico's claws dug into his legs as she, he was certain the cat was a she now, made herself comfortable.

"No. But I don't have to tell him you told me now if you want these two visits to remain a secret. I'll tell him you said something when I got the flower that was making me worry and that I put the pieces together over the last few days."

This made Huntsman pause himself, looking at Sandy with a narrowed gaze. "That's... shockingly generous of you."

"I know what wanting privacy feels like," Sandy said easily and something akin to a cold knife stuck itself in Huntsman's stomach as he remembered their fight once again. "...Thank you."

Again, this surprised Huntsman (there was a lot of that about this night it seemed). "For... what?"

"Telling me all this," Sandy said with a gesture of his arm and that damn smile. "You didn't have to. But you trusted me enough to do that anyway."

Trust... did Huntsman trust Sandy? Or was his just concerned enough for his Queen and his own life to push any distrust aside for the sake of their survival? Or was he just lonely with only a distracted queen, his old companion, and the newest addition who he already didn't see eye to eye with as regular company that didn't show frustration at his presence? So lonely that someone smiling at him so genuinely made his heart (yes, he was certain that was his heart now) thump harder than he ever remembered it doing in his life.

"... don't mention it," it what he chose to reply with instead of confronting any of those thoughts head on. Especially that last one.

He could unpack that later. Or never. Preferably never, but something told him that wasn't going to happen.

"Well!" Sandy suddenly announced, standing up and clapping his hands dramatically with that too wide smile back on his face. "I'm hungry! And I have just the perfect snack for this next batch of tea!"

Before Huntsman could argue that he wasn't hungry himself Sandy had turned around and was off into his kitchen, the sudden movement making the calico cat startle and jump off Huntsman's lap.

And then the spider demon was alone.

The temptation to take what he needed from the boat, wherever it may be hidden, and leave was strong. So strong. But he knew that if he did that the rest of his plan would be for nothing. He knew they needed more time and that wasn't something they could buy. Not anymore, not when the Lady Bone Demon had so much of what she needed already. But more help could make up for that time... and as much as he knew that his Queen would be furious with him for going behind her back, for seeking help from one of the Monkie Kid's friends of all people, he cared more about them living than her wrath at this moment.

Maybe he would have felt different if he was faced with that wrath head on, but he wasn't.

So instead, for whatever reason he told himself that wasn't just "sheer curiosity", he stood and followed the other man part way into the kitchen as quietly as he could manage and watch. And then he noticed something he'd seen before.

He couldn’t help but stare. He had noticed them during their first encounter on his boat, but hadn’t paid attention, really. Too focused on the conversation at hand and worrying about how this could all go horribly wrong. But now... now he couldn’t help but stare at Sandy’s back, wide and vast and muscled and scarred. Little nicks and wide chasms of slices and cuts and stabs littered his spine and shoulders, each of varying levels of age and healing. So much more than on his chest.

Sandy said he didn’t fight unless he had to, so... Huntsman had to ask.

"How did you get that scar?"

"Which one?" Sandy countered almost immediately, and Huntsman realized he may have been more aware of his surroundings when in his own home than Huntsman had given his credit for.

"Any of them. All of them. Take your pick."

He didn't look away from his back. Sandy didn't turn to face him.

"Most of them are old," Sandy started, the scars moving as his shoulders moved to prepare whatever it was he was making. "Pretty obvious some of them are recent. I told you I don't like to fight, but my friends..."

Sandy trailed off, most likely looking for the right words to explain. But Huntsman realized the implication long before he had the chance.

"Don't tell me you've been making yourself a meat shield for your friends," he said with a scowl. The idea of him doing that for people who were supposed to be heroes... for some reason he didn't like that at all.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Sandy countered, turning around with a plate of some kind of cup up sweet. "They don't really like it, but if my friends are in danger I want to protect them. Sometimes I forget I'm not invincible like other people."

"Wow, sounds like bad decisions are just a theme for us," Huntsman said under his breathe with a scowl, regretting saying that the second it left his mouth.

Sandy hadn't seemed to have heard him though, or if he did he made no indication that he had been offended by the statement. Which... seemed to be a pattern with the other. He didn't seem to get offended by much unless you were hurting his friends directly.

... Huntsman realized he had no idea what that felt like on either end.

But it struck him as odd, and foolish. His friends should be able to take care of themselves. He'd seen even the human scholar fight during the festival and in the celestial realm, he wasn't nearly as strong as everyone else but he put up a decent defense. For Sandy to jump in front of them to take a blow, and for them to allow him to do that...

He scowled even deeper than before. Had they no pride? No shame in letting someone else take the hits for them like that? Foolish indeed!

"You gonna sit back down?" Sandy asked after a moment, shocking Huntsman from his thoughts, gesturing to the couch. "You still haven't told me what you need."

"You sure you trust me enough to give it to me?" Huntsman asked as he sat back down, reaching to push away the plate of sweets from his side of the table. He had no interest in food at the moment.

He didn't get to do that, Sandy's hand reaching out and grabbing his wrist instead.

His hand was warm and firm and calloused from years of whatever it was he had done before and from working on tech. His fingers slipped under the cuff of his coat slightly and Huntsman could have sworn that the other man could feel how fast his heart had begun to beat in response.

"I told you before," Sandy started, pushing his hand back away from the plate. It was that Huntsman realized he had slipped something into his hand. "I don't trust you, not yet. But I offered you that second chance."

"Y-yeah," Huntsman stammered out as he wrist was let go of. He yanked it back, looking down at what was in his hand. Another tea bag and a different sweet. Store bought and wrapped. A simple fruit flavored hard candy, nothing more. But given to him all the same. Something he could choose to eat when he wanted... or not at all. Maybe that meant something, maybe it didn't.

The warmth that seemed to linger on his wrist felt like it did though.

"Now, what do you need? I can't guarantee I have it, but I'll do my best to help."

Huntsman's scowl remained on his face as he explained what materials they needed and what they were hoping to find to expedite a few certain old creations in their building of what they needed.

His scowl remained as Sandy handed him everything he needed, bidding him a safe return to his home with a yawn when he made his leave.

It remained as he rushed back to the lair, back to his Queen, to present the treasure trove they needed to get everything back on track. As Syntax looked at him in suspicion. As he returned to his own quarters holding his wrist, wanting to feel the same warmth around it that was now missing again. As he snuck a cup of hot water into his room and he dipped the tea bag into it and waited.

It only dissipated as he opened the hard candy, popping it into his mouth as he took a sip of the new tea.

The natural sweetness of the new tea tea mixed with the mouth punching sourness of the hard candy.

Huntsman couldn't help but smile, just a bit, as the flavors mingled in a way he knew many people would find unappealing. But he loved it. Sour and hard mixed with sweet and smooth.

The big guy was more insightful than he thought.

[peralta-guaranteed]

Oh god loved so so much the best friend siblign AU and I wonder if, when u got time and u feel like it, would you write how the story goes, i imagine all the family quite happy bc the really get close to Jake they like him and love how happy makes Amy and the fact now he is one more of the family but a super mad and angry Jorge who doesnt like them so they fight for their love IM SORRY I JUST GOT SO EXCITED IT WAS AMAZING

aw don't apologise for being excited!!! That's always the best reaction to a fic or hc!! - in true Peraltiago fashion Jake + Amy decide to keep their... thing a secret for a while until they really figure it out, because they sure as heck did NOT go on three dates before that smooch fest at the diner, and tbh only the knowledge that Charles+Gina+Rosa are still snoring at the apartment back there keeps them from racing back and uh, making it official 😏 - (Jake thinks about his empty dorm room for a hot second but then realises that Charles might come back in the morning and there is NO WAY he's making Amy go through that) - they never manage to go on an actual date though because Amy is always busy with school (double major yooo), so mostly Jake just hangs out at Amy+Rosa's place... the same way he did before... except for when Rosa leaves and he can finally cuddle his non-girlfriend-girlfriend (titles have not yet been chosen) - they only go officially bf / gf when Amy gets hit on at a party (by Teddy) and immediately realises she actually has a NO THANK YOU response ready now as Jake rounds the corner with their drinks! "Sorry, I'm here with my boyfriend actually" she says and gives him a quick kiss and he's dumbstruck for a second but then immediately joins in - their friends find out before the family does, though, simply because they are shit at hiding so the trio ends up stumbling in on various moments. Charles sees them holding hands somewhere on campus and thank god he got the mildest reveal because even that almost makes him faint. Gina does not believe for one second that the hickeys on Jake's neck are 'bruises' from some sort of 'ultimate frisbee' mistake and basically pins him down until he tells her the truth. Rosa, rather unceremoniously, simply runs into Jake in her hallway. At 3am. Both in their underwear. Good thing they lived together before and were actually kind of used to that. - when Jorge finds out, he's not really angry,mostly just... confused. Like, what? Jake? And his sis? Aren't they.. friends? When did this happen? Also kind of not cool, dude, you shoulda asked your friend, her brother, before you- "Oh so now you get to have a say in what I do and don't with my life? Like we're back in the 50s?" No Amy that's obviously not what I mean I just-.... fine okay you can do whatever you want - Matteo is absolutely overjoyed when Amy tells him. Like YES, you go girl, get you some nice college slice of beef cake, if you hadn't I probably woulda tried my turn next Thanksgiving (this is all shouted into speaker phone when she calls him just to make Jake feel extra awkward... the not-twins are little troublemakers if they want to) - and, well, once Matteo knows, the whole family knows. The brothers are mostly happy about it (except for David but who gives a fuck about that), because yeah Jake is a great guy and they already involuntary tested him for all Santiago-related situations, but they're definitely going to test him a bit more the next time he visits (he's been re-invited to Thanksgiving before all of this anyway, and Camila was considering Nochebuena too because he told them how his family didn't ever really do Christmas so he'd probably stay at college during winter break... which is an absolute no-go in the eyes of the family matriarch) - to be honest, it's mostly Camila (and Victor) who have a bit of a problem with it. Yes, Jake was a wonderful guest, as chaotic as he was, and yes, he's become somewhat part of their family already, but that was as Jorge's friend. Being their only daughter's boyfriend, of which so far she has had only two before him, is a whole different ballgame. And what got overlooked as 'quirks' of his is now harshly judged as 'possible problems'. - so when Thanksgiving 2 : family harder with a vengeance comes around, Jake is absolutely terrified of making a bad impression. Even if he's already made an impression on all of them, several times, over the past two years. But still. He tries to be on his best behaviour (and is immediately teased and taunted for it by

the Santiabros) and at the same time tries to keep a friendly distance from Amy to be inappropriate (and is immediately rebuked by his girlfriend basically hanging off of him like a koala the entire time). - Victor takes him aside for the Shovel Talk after dinner, when the rest of the family is gathering on the porch like usual. Jake expects about 7 more Shovel Talks to come the next two days they're there, but this one is obviously the worst, because Camila joins in. He's pretty much this close to signing some sort of contract promising he will never even bend one hair on their daughter's head when Amy barges in and saves him by dragging him off to the porch swing. - And then Jake gets his Thanksgiving dream of Amy cuddling into him under the blankets while having a beer with the Santiabros, and the way he holds onto her to make sure she doesn't fall off the swing, and the way she falls asleep so quickly and so deeply in a way she never has when anyone else of the family shared the swing with her, makes the Santiabros realise that their Shovel Talks are absolutely not needed.

[melatovnik]

ok ur top faves wangxian fics go

hey yati! 🥰️

alright, so first things first, here’s a big wangxian fic rec list i made a while ago, if you wanna check that one out too! consider the list below part 2. these are all my faves so far since my last rec list (as you'll quickly see, i have a LOT of faves).

and just a fyi/psa/disclaimer for anyone reading this: some of these fics have disturbing themes and/or kinky/freaky sex! make sure to check the authors’ tags and notes before reading. also, much like my first rec list, there’s going to be a mix of mdzs and cql canon, characterizations, dynamics, etc., so bear that in mind.

....ok GO

live from new york by varnes | rated E | 87K words | THE snl au fic!!!! yes, by snl i mean saturday night live. this is perhaps the best and funniest story i've ever read, period. varnes is a fucking genius. read this fic.

Wei Ying lets out a long, ugly groan. “I am fine, Lan Zhan. Everybody is overreacting, it’s so embarrassing for all of you.”

“You had undiagnosed pneumonia, which you walked around with for weeks until you passed out during dress,” Lan Wangji corrects him. “It got a big laugh, until everyone thought you were dead.”

He keeps his voice even and does not tell Wei Ying that it had been Lan Wangji who caught him, who called the ambulance, and who rode with him to the hospital, where he was yelled at by nurses who wanted to know why he hadn’t noticed that Wei Ying couldn’t stop shivering or string proper sentences together.

“Rumors of my demise have been vastly overstated,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, I’m already feeling much better. Basically fine. Really almost completely back to normal, so stop babying me and tell me why the fuck you let your stupid brother hire the worst man in the world to host our show.”

-

OR: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

swiss cheese theory by varnes | rated M | 19K words | sequel to snl au fic!!!!!! another must-read.

The Swiss Cheese model of accident causation likens human system defences to a series of slices of randomly-holed Swiss Cheese arranged vertically and parallel to each other with gaps in-between each slice. Defences against failure are modelled as a series of barriers, represented as slices of the cheese. The holes in the cheese slices represent individual weaknesses in individual parts of the system. The system as a whole produces failures when holes in all of the slices momentarily align, permitting "a trajectory of accident opportunity," so that a hazard passes through holes in all of the defences, leading to an accident.

OR: Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go to the courthouse.

OR: “Sweethearts,” the city clerk had said, very gently, “you’re already married.”

best friends forever by varnes | rated T | 17K words | alright, so like, strictly speaking, wangxian isn't the focus of this fic, BUT. this fic is so good!! it is seriously so good, and it made me fall in love with jin ling/lan jingyi. also, it's varnes, so read it!

It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion.

Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married.

-

OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged.

Things spiral from there.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm | rated E | 171K words

The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank.

Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

love, in fire and blood by cicer | rated E | 360K words | i actually haven't finished this one since i was reading it when it was a WIP, i need to reread it and catch up fjdskl;fjsd, but i love it very much!!!!!! oh my god he wanted to look nice for his husband..... 🙃 [screams with mouth closed]

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan."

(In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn & Yuisaki | rated T | 55K words

A new plan hatches in Wei Wuxian’s head. If this nocturnal, bottom-feeding, slimy, invasive mudcat posing as a beautiful actor thinks he can sway Wei Wuxian with animal pictures and a sob story and an unbelievably stilted way of texting with still no dick pictures in the first five minutes of conversation, he has another thing coming. Wei Wuxian’s got it, alright, he has this in the fucking bag.

~

Wei Wuxian plots to expose a catfish using strategic memes and turtle pictures while wiggling his way out of family dinner. Lan Wangji just wants companions.

there’s no promised goodbye here by Yuisaki | rated T | 54K words

Jiang Cheng stares at him. “Didn’t you say you broke up five months ago?”

“Yeah.”

“So why do you have a picture of you two kissing taped to your fridge?”

“Because we’re too broke for magnets,” Wei Wuxian explains, then considers that statement. “Well, I’m too broke for magnets. Lan Zhan probably refuses to buy them because he’s trying to have lofty ideas about the moral failings of materialism.”

~

Wei Wuxian navigates the trials of living with his ex-boyfriend in apartment 1301.

paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 | rated E | 54K words

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

a paper friend by sunzu | rated G | 5K words

Lan Wangji finds a paperman far from its body and helps get it home.

-Or-

Lan Wangji unknowingly meets Wei Wuxian for the first time.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl | rated E | 37K words

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

Lead Me On Through by mrsronweasley | rated E | 55K words | oh look another canon-era practice kissing fic fjdskfl;ds

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I'm Rich by x_los | rated E | 58K words | ok so i know that in my spiel above i said to mind the tags, etc., but actually pay no mind to the first two relationship tags for this fic. i PROMISE that this isn't that sort of dead dove fic fjdksl;fjs;lifkj. i. it. it's wangxian. don't sweat it. don't even trip. just—this fic fucking rules. it's completely insane and it slaps. wei ying is a girlboss and a bitch and i like her So Much

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los | rated M | 14K words

In the month between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leaving Yi City and their attending the cultivation conference in Lanling, Wei Wuxian discovers a locked room in the Jingshi. It is a mystery that clever and curious Wei Wuxian is doing everything in his power to avoid solving.

But the rose was awake all night for your sake/Knowing your promise to me by x_los | rated E | 8K words | resentment tenties~

The resentful energy occupying Wei Wuxian's body like an enemy army is very interested in giving him Lan Wangji, tied up with a bow.

Wei Wuxian is hoping that Lan Wangji (who is far too noble and very keen to save Wei Wuxian's misguided soul) doesn't find out about any aspect of that.

Mo Money, Mo Problems by x_los | rated M | 3K words

After the Mo family perishes in distressing and mysterious circumstances, Wei Wuxian, still reeling from his reincarnation, tries to dip back into their manor for a little travelling money. (Forward planning! What a concept!) Lan Wangji catches him immediately, and is highly unimpressed (read: furious) with Wei Wuxian’s decision to run away from him in the first place.

Standing Engagement by x_los | rated M | 18K words

Lan Wangji believes he and Wei Wuxian are essentially engaged. While they search for his missing betrothed, he accidentally reveals as much to Jiang Wanyin. Now everyone in the cultivation world knows about the imminent marriage, except for Wei Wuxian himself.

Coming Back to Yourself by acernor | rated E | 22K words | genital swapping for fun and nonprofit!

Lan Wangji gets cursed with a ~woman's body~ and has to orgasm to go back. Since he's 1) a virgin 2) super repressed and 3) SUPER gay, he has no idea what to do.

If only he had a super nosy friend who's read lots of erotic novels who could help him figure out what to do... hm...

Save a Sword by etymologyplayground | rated E | 5K words | a fic inspired by the above fic!

Lan WangJi presses a kiss into his throat, which draws a shivering whine from him. "Like this," he agrees, his voice so low. Then he slides one warm elegant hand down Wei WuXian's chest to his belly, and then to his — to his —

--

fan ending for acernor's fabulous masterpiece "coming back to yourself" because i'm a huge goofball and that fic fucks

Our Eyes on the Road by etymologyplayground | rated E | 23K words | brought to you by lore (the author) and Orville Peck's hit song Drive Me, Crazy

Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.

"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.

"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.

-

Lan Zhan is driving to Chicago. Wei Ying tags along.

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner | rated E | 7K words

A meet-cute, a first date, a sleepover.

Let's take a ride round the curves of desire by feyburner | rated E | 6K words | yeah........... uhh, yeah.

Wei Ying was sprawled on the floor in front of the oscillating fan when Lan Zhan got home from work.

The Roots Grow Riotous by hansbekhart | rated E | 105K words | a beautifully crafted, emotionally harrowing fic. i should warn you (since it's not quite tagged as such) that while wangxian is endgame, the overall story doesn't have the sort of happily-ever-after ending you might expect. i’ve seen it described as open-ended but hopeful and cathartic, which i find to be a pretty accurate assessment

Sometimes Lan Zhan doesn’t work through lunch. Sometimes he makes conversation with coworkers in the halls. Sometimes he goes home instead of spending the last hour trawling through Grindr. But mostly, that’s exactly what he does. The sameness is comforting. His life spools out in easily measured increments: capsule collections, yards of hand dyed textiles, ninety day lead times, sell through figures, cost of goods sold.

Every date in manufacturing can be calculated backwards and forward from a single horizon point: the date that the goods must arrive into the country where they'll be sold. Other than that, nothing else really matters.

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie | rated E | 76K words | i can't recall a fic ever affecting me as much as this one did. one of the best stories i've ever read. so, so, so crushingly beautiful. it's viscerally distressing/upsetting at times, especially at the start, so please heed the tags and author's note (they provide a way to skip the beginning scene if needed)!

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

请兔子吃晚饭; treating a bunny to dinner by yiqie | rated T | 3K words | read this one to recover from the above fic

It’s not really about the food. Being able to share it in the same space is its own kind of magic.

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie | rated E | 69K words | and then read this one to feel harrowed again, this time in canon-verse!

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable by yiqie | rated M | 7K words | read this one to recover from the above fic (this time in canon-verse)

“You don’t know? In Yiling, there’s a tree at the edge of town, one that stands at the fringes of where the city ends and the Burial Mounds begin, called the Lover’s Tree. They say if you write a letter and nail it to its branches, Yiling Laozu will receive it, and he’ll reply.”

你的阳光下; wanna hide in your light by yiqie | rated T | 2K words | :')

Lan Zhan shuts off the water before it can start getting cold, because Wei Ying still needs to take one. Any other day, Wei Ying would have slunk in, pretending to be annoyed that Lan Zhan started without him, and neither of them would have want for hot water, but Wei Ying is still asleep.

From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed | rated E | 38K words | get (orange) CRUSHED!!!!!!!

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

[In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.]

Pentimento. by orange_crushed | rated E | 73K words | this fic briefly gave me a serious case of career envy :/ ......but seriously, this is an absolute must-read!!!

When Wangji was eighteen he’d walked into the first class of his fall semester painting module and there’d been a boy in a hilariously ugly floppy knit hat sitting cross-legged on the floor at the front of the room. He’d had a sheet of canvas paper taped to his board and his board clamped between his legs and a tackle box of brushes and tubes—a real fishing tackle box, with a fish-shaped logo on it that said BASS, not one of the nice art supply storage boxes they sold in the campus bookstore, like the one Wangji was carrying—open beside him. Everyone else had settled into the rows of stools and easels, but that boy had stayed on the floor for the whole two hour and thirty minute studio. Wangji had looked at him and thought, that idiot’s back is going to hurt.

[Former best friends Lan Wangji, paintings conservator, and Wei Wuxian, art handler, meet again and realize... neither of them were actually in unrequited love.]

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed | rated E | 25K words

His fingers are still clasped between Wangji's. In the mirror Wangji watches him tuck his coat between his thighs so that he can fuss with the tucked-in hem of his shirt, tousle up the side of his hair, all one-handed. "I hope what I'm wearing is okay."

"It's good," Wangji says. "You look good."

"I guess I must," Wei Ying says, and then he smiles and bites his teeth into his bottom lip for a second, devastatingly, and before Wangji can drop dead the doors to the elevator slide open, and the hostess station appears.

[In which lonely businessman Lan Wangji meets the right wrong person and changes the course of his life.]

The dreamers. by orange_crushed | rated E | 17K words

“Stop mothering me,” Wei Ying protests. “Why don’t you ever listen?” He scowls at Wangji, but then the lure of the clean water is too much; he sits grumbling and strips off his vambraces and loosens the collar of his robes and wipes himself down in the steam. Wangji sits on a stool and watches him, and after a while Wei Ying slaps the rag into the bowl and glares back. “Are you going to sit and stare the whole time?” he demands. “You want to see me strip naked and give my filthy evil self a good scrubbing, huh?”

Yes, Wangji thinks.

[This is a story about a horrible war and a beautiful dream; about grabbing happiness where you can find it, and not letting go.]

mercy, tear it down. by orange_crushed | rated E | 31K words

“You want me to call you good?” Wangji says. “To make you feel good?” Wei Ying makes a wretched, soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat. “Then will you be good?”

“Uh,” Wei Ying says. His lashes flick down again, nervously. “Good how?”

Wangji hasn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Kingfisher Feathers by Anonymous | rated E | 83K words | WIP (7/10 chapters, last updated 4/13/21) | omg omegaverse!!!! @/ this anon author... keep up the great work! also i have feelings for u

With an almost trance-like detachment, Wei Wuxian touched his own neck, his fingers skimming over the fresh mark. The bite wound had stopped bleeding, although he had no doubts it would open again if agitated.

Bonded.

He was bonded for life.

"Shit," he whispered. He looked over at the sleeping form of Lan Wangji—the Second Prince of Gusu and, until his brother was found, the sole heir to the throne. "Oh, shit. Lan Qiren is going to kill me."

----------

Lan Wangji goes into a fevered rut and accidentally bonds with Wei Wuxian. When they next meet, he remembers none of it, and Wei Wuxian is determined to keep the bond a secret—even when he's sent to the Cloud Recesses to be a consort in Lan Wangji's harem.

(tl;dr concubine!wwx is already married to emperor!lwj, who has no idea. drama ensues.)

Pull out game weak by 74243 | rated E | 23K words | featuring the hottest meanest dom top lesbian lwj of your wildest dreams. i hope ao3 user 74243 is having an amazing day

Wei Ying swipes right.

Extra Time by Anonymous | rated E | 28K words | fic inspired by the above fic! seriously good

How Wei Ying learned to stop worrying and love the strap (an AU of 74243's Pull out game weak)

Superfan by 74243 | rated E | 19K words | ao3 user 74243 writing banger after banger as per usual

“I’m not going to apologize for my job,” Wei Ying said, “so if you want to give me some kind of lecture--”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “You misunderstood. I am...” she paused, as if considering the best way to put it. “I’m a fan.”

Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes by 74243 | rated E | 7K works | i'm just going to list all of ao3 user 74243's fics, ok? that's what's gonna happen here

Wei Wuxian was a little surprised herself, although she felt bad for being surprised. Of course it didn’t really mean anything about you, how you presented, Wei Wuxian knew that better than anyone, but all the same it was hard to reconcile Lan Zhan as an omega.

(wwx makes an error of judgment)

If the shoe fits by 74243 | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying loses a bet.

the And they were roommates series by 74243 | rated E | 19K words total

That was the other thing, when Wei Ying had moved in. She’d scented Lan Zhan immediately, the sandalwood and smoke rising off her, almost before she’d taken in Lan Zhan’s straight posture, her narrowed eyes. She’d known that Lan Zhan could tell, too. At the end, when they’d talked about the rent and Lan Zhan’s nearly finished PhD and Wei Ying’s working hours, Wei Ying had said, casual and effortless, “And you don’t mind that I’m an omega.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said.

Chef's kiss by 74243 | rated E | 7K words

Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.”

“There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.”

(Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

Gold-palmed Warrior Quest! by 74243 | rated E | 13K words

When Lan Wangji suggested that they camp along the way to the Unclean Realm, rather than staying at inns, Wei Wuxian had been sceptical.

Dway! by 74243 | rated E | 6K words

“Hm,” Wei Ying said. “You like it rough, though, right? You seem like that kind of alpha.” When she saw Lan Zhan’s expression she raised an eyebrow. “What? Was I wrong? Are you tender and sweet? Do you cry?”

“You were not wrong,” Lan Zhan said. “I do not cry. Do you?”

tgif by 74243 | rated E | 17K words

Today Lan Zhan says that if Wei Ying cannot control her mouth then she will have to tape it shut.

On the ground by 74243 | rated E | 5K words

“I think you will like it,” Lan Zhan said.

Does your mother know by 74243 | rated E | 5K words | editing this rec list on a monday morning to add this brand new fic fresh off the presses. thank u ao3 user 74243 for feeding us so well 🙏

“Lan Zhan is such a well-behaved girl,” Madam Yu said.

all that and more by Euphorion | rated E | 20K words

Wei Wuxian locks his phone and puts it down, blinks at his ceiling, and picks it up again. The pictures are still there.

His first thought is that Lan Zhan meant them for someone else. That he just woke up at—he checks the timestamp—6:30 am on a Sunday and decided to go absolute full nuclear seduction option on some poor boy he met on Grindr, who would now be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to him because Wei Wuxian had a bad habit of distracting—of—oh.

Pieces of last night start to resurface and paste themselves together in his head. He winces.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones | rated E | 77K words | of my faves, this is one of my favorite... faves. top faves. incredibly fun and silly and hot. just... oh my GOD, wei YING!

“I know! Why don’t you try it? Let me go and I’ll lend it to you!” Wei Wuxian bribed hysterically, desperate to escape from this encounter by any means necessary. And then, his eyes blew wide, realizing what he just said. ‘Wait— just what am I offering Lan Zhan?!’ he thought. How was he so stupid, how did he just offer that without thinking—

“You want me...to use it… after you?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice unusually faint.

~*~

Wei Wuxian's test of mysterious, literally magical sex toy goes awry when Lan Wangji finds him in the woods 'experimenting' with it and it ends up in Lan Wangji's possession.

Unfortunately, neither of them is aware that the toy is anchored to Wei Wuxian's body. Too bad Wei Wuxian invited him to try it.

Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers | rated E | 60K words | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is a really good fic

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “…playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

none in the forest so bright as these by saltyfeathers | rated E | 6K words

Wei Wuxian puts a hand to his head, brain lost in fog. “Lan Zhan,” he pants. “Why are we here? Are we on a hunt?”

As Lan Zhan tries to remember, his brow furrows. He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know.”

“This is bad,” Wei Wuxian says. When Lan Zhan cups his cheek again, sparks burst behind Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s not,” he says unthinkingly. Sighs, almost. Lan Zhan looks at his own arm like it's betrayed him. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and presses his face into Lan Zhan’s palm. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs. “What’s happening to us?”

out in the garden, there’s things you hid away by saltyfeathers | rated E | 121K words | oww oww oww 😣😣😣💘

There is a man with empty eye sockets and tears of fire in Wei Wuxian’s dreams. Tendrils of smoke curl around him in sleep, pressing at his most vulnerable spots, seeking entrance, slipping between his ribs.

When he ignores Lan Zhan's offers of help, he declines rapidly. He will die. Or, he should. Anyone else would.

Instead, he flees. And transforms.

crawling through your door by saltyfeathers | rated E | 12K words

Lan Wangji kisses him. When he pulls away, he speaks into the silence between them, because when he is with Wei Ying, he so rarely considers. “Why don’t you touch me anymore?”

Lan Zhan Works for the Historical Society by saltyfeathers | rated E | 7K words | some real real good lesbian action up in here

Pretty Lan Zhan. Beautiful Lan Zhan. Ice queen Lan Zhan. So intimidating and femme and coldly polite in public, yet meaner than a man in the bedroom. Wei Ying has slept with men before and none of them were mean-nice to her like Lan Zhan.

threadfic by saltyfeathers | not rated (each chapter rated/tagged individually) | 34K+ words | WIP (11/? chapters, last updated 3/15/21), but it’s a collection of stand-alone oneshots

semi cleaned-up wangxian twitter threadfic.

【已經打動我的心】So Sing To Me All Night by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | arrow writes wei ying so exquisitely well. i was weepy the whole time read this fic. for the best experience, i recommend following along with the accompanying spotify playlist.

No one listens to the radio in this day and age, but somehow from a bunch of left clicking and right clicking, through Facebook and Twitter and Youtube, Wei Ying finds himself on the WQHS homepage—the UPenn student radio station, promising eclectic tastes from a variety of hosts. Wei Ying can't remember giving a shit about his old college's student radio before he dropped out, but it's eleven at night and he has nothing else better to do. He clicks on the button that says Listen Here! and waits to be impressed.

get wild by aroceu | rated E | 24K words | 🔥🏀🔥 BASKETBALL FIC 🔥🏀🔥

He was looking for a specific reaction—to get Lan Zhan to lash out. All hard edges and demanding, the same way during the first scrim, Lan Zhan's dark voice had made him loose and obedient, itching to both rebel and obey at the same time.

It's them, whatever it is, but it doesn't belong on the basketball court.

~

Wei Ying didn't expect to enter a weird... something-with-benefits-plus-power-play with the captain of the Gusu basketball team. He's not sure if it's worth it.

without a warning by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | 🥺️🥺️🥺️

“Blegh,” Wei Ying says. “I hate being sick, Lan Zhan… my throat is so sore… why do I talk so much?”

“Stop talking then,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t mean that,” Wei Ying says, in his half-asleep daze. “I know you’ll never admit it, Lan Zhan, but you like it when I talk.”

your honor i’m a freak bitch by aroceu | rated E | 6K words

Wei Ying gestures to his outfit. His hands are buried deep within the hoodie; he’s mostly gesturing with the sleeves. “Well, it works with the whole get up, you see?”

“The…” Lan Zhan looks down at where his fingers are toying with the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs. Wei Ying pretends he is not shivering. “…skirt. And these stockings.”

“Thigh highs, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, batting at him with the end of a sleeve.

Play It By Ear by aroceu | rated T | 7K words | MY HEART !!!

In the virtual airplane flying over the island, appropriately called Yiling, Lan Zhan watches as bits and pieces of the island load in. There are many Statues of David, a gothic teacup ride, and, from what Lan Zhan can see, an entire field of spoiled turnips.

hanguang-jun @/hanguangjun Do you need turnips to sell?

timmy and tommy in a trenchcoat @/yilinglaozu oh! no haha! 😅 those are from a while ago but my brother insists i keep them there

for the ~aesthetic~

the key that our souls were singing by aroceu | rated M | 5K words

“I haven’t seen you since—Gusu, was it?” Wei Ying says. “Oh my god, it’s been so long. I didn’t even know you were LGBT! Unless you’re here as an ally, which is also totally cool—”

“No, I.” Lan Zhan coughs. Her throat feels dry. “I am a lesbian.”

abort retry fail by aroceu | rated E | 21K words

Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into. Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He'll be even better—or at least, try to be just as good of a husband as he would be, without his memory loss.

Blackout If You Were Mine by aroceu | rated E | 9K words

Wei Ying likes to wear chokers a lot. So Lan Zhan buys some for him. Then, testing their limits, collars.

Wei Ying wears those, too.

-

Or, the one where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan accidentally stumble into a BDSM relationship.

eleven thousand meters & airborne by aroceu | rated E | 5K words | 😎✈️😎

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying join the mile high club.

many fox given by defractum | rated E | 24K words | can't go wrong with foxxian and dragonji content 🦊🐉

Lan Zhan is glaring at him. That's probably fair.

The last time they'd seen each other, Wei Ying had been digging through Lan Zhan's garbage. They'd made eye contact over the shredded bags, the week's trash scattered around him like stinky, oversized Lego.

Lan Zhan's eyes had been wide with horror, and Wei Ying's had been equally wide with feigned innocence. He'd reached out slowly, maintaining the eye contact, and then flipped over the food waste bin full of onion peel and carrot skin as a distraction and slunk off into the night. Probably not his finest moment.

-

Modern AU dragon!LWJ meets fox!WWX.

the tamed by defractum | rated E | 12K words

If the Second Jade of Lan insists on bringing the Yiling Patriarch as his guest to the next Cultivation Conference, he must first demonstrate a control over the Yiling Patriarch and his unnatural abilities.

The letter lies on their desk for days.

-

Post-canon, Wei Ying is invited, sort of, to a Discussion Conference.

us in a king-size, keep it a secret (say i'm your queen, i don't wanna leave this) by matcha_ado | rated E | 3K words

People always said Wei Ying was a royal pain in the ass. They were absolutely right, of course, just not in the way they thought.

it is wednesday my dudes by jelenedra | rated M | 4K words

Wednesday nights at Cloud Recesses strip club are always a little weird, but usually they're not this horny. Whatever Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get up to, Mianmian is not going to be the one to clean it up.

i'm the one for your fire by occultings | rated E | 43K words | cherry magic au! love it

Wei Ying, virgin and noted heterosexual, gets hit with a curse of an unusual nature on his 30th birthday — through physical contact, he can read the minds of others around him.

Enter Lan Zhan, hot former rival and current coworker, whose true thoughts about Wei Ying are nothing like he expects. (A loose Cherry Magic AU)

a thousand teeth, yours among them by darkredloveknot | rated E | 11K words

A one night stand in the time of zombies.

hoe to housewife pipeline by lanzhancore | rated E | 5K words

“You type fast,” Wei Ying murmurs, making a futile attempt at conversation while he waits for him to be done with… whatever. “Not to be pushy, but do you plan on fucking my ass anytime soon?”

or: wei ying has been thirsting after lan zhan for three slutty slutty years

can you feel it by lanzhancore | rated E | an instant classic

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying asks finally, eyebrows drawn together. “Is everything okay?”

Thumbs stroking circles into his skin as if to comfort him, Lan Zhan says, “Don’t panic.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, sitting up on his elbows. “What did you do to my ass?”

“Nothing,” Lan Zhan says, convincing nobody. “But we need to go to the hospital.”

or: wei ying really should have sprung for the model with the flared base. he learns this lesson the hard way.

because you're mine (i walk the line) by lanzhancore | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying is freshly cream-pied and still trying to remember where his legs are when Lan Zhan outlaws masturbation.

or: wei ying fucks around and finds out

payload by lanzhancore | rated M | 3K words | babysitter wwx + dilfji, what more could you need

Wei Ying has a whole five hours and thirty-six minutes to calm down but when he hears Lan Zhan’s key turning in the front door lock later that evening he has to cling to the couch cushions to keep from marching into the laundry room to retrieve the briefs so he can wave them in Lan Zhan’s face and demand to know who owns them.

or: lan zhan's self-restraint is not limitless

the to the brim series by verseau | rated E | 14K words total

Wei Ying wants to rob him, but it wouldn’t even be satisfying, since this guy is just—giving away money. With his nice fingers. Maybe Wei Ying will just bite his fingers, and that will give the same endorphin rush as robbing him. / a day told across five parts.

get that message home by verseau | rated G | 2K words | ohhhhhhhhh myyyyy godddddd 😭

Sizhui's father cannot haggle. It is a shame on Sizhui’s honor to have such an honest father.

Author's note [i'm including it here because it's golden]:

there is a scene in arrested development where lucille, who is on the opposite spectrum of humanity as lan zhan, asks, "it's a banana, michael. how much could one cost? ten dollars?" there are no bananas in this story.

dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau | rated E | 27K words | a particular favorite of mine 🔥🍆💦🕳🔥

Wei Ying discovers himself.

trust your fingertips by plonk | not rated (but really rated E) | 15K word | 🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️ plonk you’ve done it again!

Lan Wangji must suppress a shiver at every brush and press of Wei Wuxian’s fingers.

Under different circumstances - less public ones - he would welcome touch, given that his body is in such an aroused state.

Alas, his circumstances are these: sitting quietly while Wei Wuxian, the famous (infamous) Doctor of Yunmeng, digs his fingertips into Lan Wangji’s shoulders and chest and sides and hums thoughtfully.

Doctor, Doctor by YunmengLotus | rated E | 4K words | mmmmhmm!

Wei Ying needs to get a prostate exam. How ever will he deal when the world's hottest doctor walks through the exam room door and tells him to bend over?

TAKOYAKI by ariskamalt | rated E | 3K words | lan zhan gets jealous of his own damn appendages. meanwhile, wei ying is just having a good time.

Lan Zhan…cannot always feel or tell what his tentacles will do.

His free hand curls into a fist. Underneath his skin, the tentacles give a little squirm, as if aware of the challenge he has just issued them. No touching Wei Ying unless he says so, because he wants to touch Wei Ying first. They squirm again, as if to say, Tentacles: 1, Lan Zhan: 0.

That will just have to be remedied.

Or, as phnelt first described: Tentacle-ji with the semi autonomous tentacles getting jealous of his tenties for touching Wei Ying in places he hasn't yet

Outage by SugarMilkTea | rated E | 3K words | [cough] 😳😳😳

The power goes out in Lan Zhan and Wei Ying's rural home in the countryside. Lan Zhan takes advantage of the darkness to give in to one of his baser urges, and Wei Ying's first rural power outage experience is about to get a lot more interesting.

big hands (i know you’re the one) by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 8K words | NICE. 🔥🔥🔥

“Not a big talker, hm?” Wei Ying tilts his head to one side. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m a good enough conversationalist for three. My tongue is multi-talented and—”

He has just enough time to feel her palm on the back of his neck and think, oh, her hands are so big, before his words are being stolen into her mouth.

darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 7K words

“Are you done playing around?”

Knowing that’s not what either of them actually wants, Wei Wuxian reaches up to tickle under Lan Wangji’s chin. Soft little scritches, coaxing motions—Lan Wangji is weak to all of them.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

(or: five times Lan Wangji paid special attention to Wei Wuxian’s interest in being his gege.)

put him on his knees, give him something to believe in by dustyloves | rated E | 2K words | if the title is quoting WAP, then you should know by now it’s gonna be some of that good filth

The next time Wei Ying kisses him, Lan Zhan is careful again. Wei Ying seems determined to make it very difficult.

the hard way by dustyloves | rated E | 9K words

"Anyway, you make it sound like something lewd is going on," Wei Ying complains. "It's all totally above board. She's just being a nice person. It's just one kind alpha grad student offering one room of her huge house to one beta undergrad in need, what could be more appropriate than that?"

// Wei Ying makes a mistake and finds out the hard way.

Exhibition by sevenless | rated E | 5K words

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “The forbidden section, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“You’re not afraid of being heard?” Wei Wuxian thinks aloud. A smirk creeps onto his face, eyes glinting. “Or could it be that Lan-er-gongzi actually wants to be heard? Seen? Caught?” He skips in front of him, blocking his way. "Disciplined?”

Lan Wangji’s ears, as always, betray him.

a history of the body by northofallmusic | rated E | 14K words

Wei Ying's body hurts sometimes; she lets Lan Zhan help her.

A fic about the complicated nature of having a body, and also the versatility of sex toys.

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering | rated E | 36K words

The reboot completes, and Wei Ying’s brain smashes this information together into two mind-shattering thoughts. Number one, he knew very well already, and is now further seared by defined muscles and a mouth-watering tattoo into his every waking moment: Lan Zhan is the hottest fucking person on the planet.

Number two: that guy wasn’t visiting Lan Zhan’s neighbour, he was visiting Lan Zhan, which means:

Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks.

;

Lan Zhan has been Wei Ying's best friend for years. Literally, years. How did he not already know? How has he missed this most important of facts? And more importantly, how is he ever going to get over it?

watching my heart go round by typefortydeductions | rated E | 38K+ words | WIP (2/4 chapters, last updated 5/2/21) | lan zhan i love you baby 💞

Lan Zhan falls apart. As it turns out, that's not the end.

~

oh man this list is so long sd;jfkdsjfhhh

yati, i hope you find some stuff in this pile here that you’ll enjoy! it's not an exhaustive list, so check out the authors’ other works and bookmarks for more goods, if you feel so inclined 😙💕

[floral-and-fine]

Curious Misfortune part 1

Modern AU

Sandor Clegane x female reader

Warnings: part with guys acting like jerks/creeps

Summary: During the holiday season, the reader finds herself in a small town after she breaks up with her boyfriend.

A/n: The whole inspiration for me starting this fic is the idea of Sandor in flannel. Thank you @luna-xial​ @ewokiee and @liamakorn for the help

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, as you passed another sign on the highway. None of the small town names looked familiar, and it was far too dark out for you to recognize any landmarks.

You clutched the wheel tightly, angry, and upset over the whole situation you found yourself in. Your damn phone didn’t get any reception out here, wherever you were, and you were hungry, tired, but mostly pissed.

In fact, you wouldn’t have been driving at all tonight on this unfamiliar highway if it hadn’t been for your now ex-boyfriend.

You had come out all this way to spend a nice Thanksgiving with his family, but when you and him arrived, his family had been nothing but rude to you. They nitpicked about everything, your outfit, your job, your education, nothing was good enough for them.

You had hoped that Jaime would’ve done something about it, stick up for you, defend you, however, he pretended not to notice. When you finally couldn’t take it any longer, and you brought it up to him, he acted like an ass and tried to convince you that you were overreacting.

God, you wanted to smack him across the face. You really were better off without him.

You groaned as you glanced at the time, you should be somewhere warm right now, eating pumpkin pie covered with whip cream, but instead, you were...lost, most likely.

Yet to be perfectly honest with yourself, you weren’t in a rush to get back home, because being there meant you’d have to face the aftermath of your failed relationship. Who would move out? Who gets to keep what? If only it could all resolve itself on its own.

You passed a sign, this one indicating that the next town was a mile away. You really ought to stop somewhere, get something to eat at least, that is if anything was still open, it was a holiday after all.

Taking the exit, it led you to a small community, a simple kind of place with small homes and just the basics. As you drove down the main road, you noted that most of the businesses including small diners and restaurants were closed.

It figured the best you could probably do now would be to get a bag of chips or something from the gas station. Just as you were about to give up your search, the blinking red light of an open sign caught your attention. The establishment was just some local bar with just a couple of beat-up old trucks parked out front.

As you got out of your car, you hoped they served food, or at least something besides peanuts, noticing that you were hungrier than you had originally thought.

Opening the door, the few patrons inside turned their heads. You could tell they weren’t used to unfamiliar faces stopping by. There were only a handful of people, a small group of guys by the pool table, a large man in a flannel shirt at the bar, and an old bartender.

You smiled shyly as they watched you walk up to the bar, finally returning to whatever they were doing before once you sat down.

You sat on a stool that was a couple of seats away from the stranger, he didn’t seem to want any company or make any small talk.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender asked, approaching you.  

“Are you still serving food?” You asked hopefully.

“Yep,” he nodded, reaching down and then handing you a menu.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” you said practically giddy. Quickly, you looked over the options and gave him your order.

As you waited for your food, your eyes wandered over to the man at the other end of the bar. He had dark brown hair and a thick beard, even with him sitting you could tell he was easily over 6’. He sat there quietly, eyes focused on the TV above as he drank his beer. There was something about his posture and intense gaze on the screen that made you feel as though he was avoiding turning his head to look at you.

As you wondered why you almost jumped out of your seat when the bartender placed a plate in front of you. You grinned looking at the spread, before picking up your fork and digging in.

Distracted by the food, you didn’t notice the man taking a quick glance in your direction. He’d never say anything out loud, but you were rather pretty and awfully sweet it seemed.

He couldn’t help but overhear you tell the bartender all about your woes. You talked about your damn ex and his stuck up family and how you had no idea where the hell you were.

Seems like your Thanksgiving was worse than his.

Just as you were about halfway through a slice of pie, the group of boys by the pool table were starting to get rowdy. They were so drunk that they were practically spilling beer on each other and the floor and yelling about stupid bullshit.

The man tsked, annoyed with their behavior, as you tried your best to ignore them and focused on finishing your pie.

“Alright fellas,” the bartender started. “I’m cutting you all off for tonight.”

“C'mon old man,” one of the guys started, most likely the leader of the group. “We’re just having some fun.”

It was obvious they were all looking for trouble, from the smirks on their faces to the way they were holding the pool cues. They slowly closed in on you and the bartender like prey.

“I ain’t gonna repeat myself,” my bartender stuttered. “Get out.”

“Why don’t you make us,“ the leader sneered looking down at the old bartender.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat as they crowded around you. Clasping your hands on top of your lap, you looked down anxious over what might unfold. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as one of the boys gazed at you like a piece of meat.

“Hey,” he whispered, leaning in so close, that you could feel his breath on the side of your face. “That pie looks pretty sweet,” he purred before he swiped some whipped cream off your plate and licked his finger.

You clenched your eyes shut, feeling sick to your stomach, as he then proceeded to touch your hair.

However it didn’t last long, the man at the end of the bar roughly yanked the boy away from you and practically threw him across the room, before addressing the group.

“Listen you little fucks, unless you’d like me to drag each one of ya out by your hair, you better fuck off,” he snarled.

Swallowing thickly, they scurried to exit, looking absolutely terrified.

You took a few deep breaths to calm your nerves and opened your eyes, quickly wiping away a couple of tears.

Turning around, you looked over to the stranger to thank him, but your mouth hung open for a moment as you noticed the burn scars on the side of his face. They were all over his cheek, forehead, and part of his jaw.

Immediately, he turned away, taking his wallet from his back pocket and leaving some cash on the counter.

The bartender shook his head, grabbing the money and handing it back to the man, “Keep it, Sandor, it’s the least I can do.”

“It was nothing,” Sandor replied, heading towards the door.

Quickly, you got up from your seat and made your way over to him, you couldn’t let him leave without thanking him properly.

Gently you reached out grabbing his hand to stop him. “Thank you,” you said, giving his hand a light squeeze.

He glanced down at you, keeping the scarred side of his turned away from you. “Don’t worry about it.”

You shook your head and smiled up at him, “I was really freaked out, I’m glad you intervened.”

Sandor flushed a little under your gaze, making you smile more. He really seemed like a sweet man underneath it all, maybe a little rough around the edges, but still sweet.

Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed his cheek. “Good night.”

“Night,” he mumbled, the blush on his cheeks had now spread to his ears.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and took out his keys, giving you a nod before pushing the door open. Sandor paused letting out an exasperated sigh when he saw the condition of your car outside.

“Those fucking cunts,” he muttered under his breath. They had smashed the windshields, busted the headlights, and slashed all the tires.

“Girl,” he started, turning back around and looking at you.

“Yes?”

He rubbed the back of his head, “looks like you won’t be getting anywhere tonight.”

“What?” You squeezed past Sandor to get a good look. Your eyes went wide over the state of your car. This fucking day had to have been the worst one in your entire life. Not being able to hold back any longer, you started to cry.

Sandor stood there awkwardly, watching as sobbed into your hands.

It was getting late now, almost midnight, the bar would be closing soon, and he already knew none of the local mechanics were open.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a ride,” he said, placing a large hand on the small of your back. “We’ll get this all figured out in the morning.”

You peeked up at him, lowering your hands slightly. “What?” You hiccuped.

“You can stay at a motel for the night,” he explained. Sandor wouldn’t blame you if you said no, figured you might be cautious accepting a ride from him, but the least he could do was offer. He wasn’t sure what other options you had.

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you nodded, “Alright, thank you.”

“My trucks this way,” he said, guiding you towards it with his hand still on your back.

“Oh,” you perked up. “I need to grab my bag.”

You grimaced looking at the state of your car up close. Those jerks, hopefully, your insurance would cover the damage.

Popping open the trunk, your face fell when you found it empty. In your rush to leave that dreadful house, you must have left your luggage with your ex and his horrible family.

“Fuck,” you huffed, startling Sandor.

He watched in amusement as you stomped around yelling, cursing up a storm, and waving your arms around. You even kicked your car a few times.

Finally, getting it all out of your system, your attention turned to him. “Could we please stop at a convenience store or something on the way,” you said in a defeated voice.

“Get in the truck,” he nodded, opening the passenger side door.

The drive was a quiet one, giving you a chance to admire the small town’s charm. Besides the assholes from the bar, it seemed like a decent place. You were fortunate that Sandor was around to help you, who knows how this night may have unfolded without him.

“Sandor,” you started, curiosity getting the best of you. “Why aren’t you with your family for Thanksgiving?”

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead as he answered you dryly. “Don’t really have one. I’ve got a brother but I’d rather eat shit than spend a minute with him.”

“I see,” you muttered. “I’m not close to mine either.”

He pulled up in front of a small store, the sign indicating it was 24 hours.

You were pleasantly surprised that Sandor joined you inside to shop, he followed behind you as you browsed, his hands tucked into his pockets as shuffled along. You told him that he could’ve waited in the truck, but he shook his head, muttering that it was fine.

It didn't take long, you only needed a few things to get you through until tomorrow, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant.

You placed the shopping basket on the counter, the cashier gave you a polite smile, but it faded when she noticed Sandor standing beside you. She intentionally avoided making any eye contact with him.

Before you could get your wallet out from your purse, Sandor had already handed the cashier some cash. Before you could protest, he grabbed the plastic bags and headed for the exit.

“I appreciate it, but you didn’t have to do that,” you said, once both of you were back in the truck.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve had a rough day,” Sandor interjected.

As he drove, you took a moment to admire him like you had done back at the bar. He was an intense person to be around, but what caught you off guard the most was his thoughtful and considerate behavior.

Arriving at the motel, Sandor sighed, “I know it doesn’t look like the nicest place, but the staff are decent people.”

You smiled, “Thank you again, tonight probably would’ve been a lot worse without you.”

As you were climbing out of the truck, Sandor stopped you.

“Here,” he grabbed something from the back and thrust it at you. “You can wear that instead of having to sleep in your dress.”

You looked at the flannel shirt in your hands, your eyes crinkling as you grinned, “Good night, Sandor.”

He nodded, “I’ll be back in the morning.”

He watched from the truck as you went into the lobby, wanting to be sure everything was alright before putting the truck in reverse and leaving.

[athenasbloodyspear]

Say Something to Stop Me: Chapter 3

Writing Master List | Say Something to Stop Me Master List

Please note: This fic describes depression, anxiety, panic attacks, past/referenced non con and domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion.

The next month at the compound passed much better than the last. You started training with everyone in the gym again and actually paid attention to your exercise routine.

Bucky had come to find you one morning in your room, a few days after the Peter incident, and had reiterated to you that he didn’t want to push you to talk about anything, but that he was there for you if you needed him. You had thanked him, blushing all the way up to your hairline when you thought about how you had clung to him and sobbed into his chest. He had just tucked his fingers under your chin to make you look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m glad I could be there for you when you needed me.” You didn’t have any words, so you had just nodded. Then you’d both gone down to the gym for a long morning of training. The place on your chin where his fingers had gently held had tingled all morning.

Tony sent you out on a couple of really easy missions to scope out a few buildings. It was just you wandering the busy streets of a few towns in Russia. Even though it was devastatingly cold, it felt good to be out and working again. Your head felt clear, you had a purpose and something to focus on.

The two appointments you had with the therapist so far seemed… fine. The first was very formal and slightly uncomfortable. You were a person who had to keep their cards close to their chest their whole life, and spent a good portion of time only telling the smallest amount of the truth you could get away with. You were constantly juggling secrets, so spending an hour just talking about yourself was not something that came naturally.

The second appointment was a little better. You didn’t know if you’d ever feel comfortable actually talking about what happened to someone you didn’t know, but you had opened up a bit about feeling lost, like the world is duller lately and she seemed to think that was something that lots of people struggled with. It was enough to lift a little bit of weight off your heart.

You finally finished all of the Fast and the Furious movies with Peter and had started spending the evenings in the common area eating dinner and sharing drinks with everyone. You were still more quiet than usual, but you supplied the occasional joke (usually at Sam or Bucky’s expense) and generally just started to enjoy yourself a bit more.

One evening, just about a month after your panic attack, you were all settling down for a movie in the common space. Everyone was going to watch the Lord of the Rings series together after Tony and Sam had been appalled to discover that no one (not even Peter) had seen any of them.

You were tucked on the couch between Bucky and Peter with a movie theater size bin of popcorn on your lap. Between the teen boy and the super soldier grabbing hand fulls, the tub was almost halfway gone and you hadn’t even hit play yet.

“Jesus you monsters! Don’t eat it all before the movie even starts.”

“It’s not our fault you’ve been making us wait for 15 minutes.” Peter said through a mouthful of half chewed popcorn.

“Ew Peter! Swallow before speaking please. We’re waiting for Tony. He’d be pissed if we started without him.” You snarked back as you stood to go pop more popcorn.

Heathens. You thought to yourself, rolling your eyes.

“Hey Friday?” Peter yelled at the ceiling. “Where the fuck is Tony?”

You heard Steve mutter “language” under his breath across the room. Sam threw a pillow at him. Bucky dropped his head back onto the couch and cackled.

“Shut up grandpa.” You threw over your shoulder.

As you started to turn back around you caught the blue of Bucky’s eyes staring at you. He still had a huge smile on his face, but his eyes were scanning down the length of your body. His gaze paused somewhere around where you knew the top band of your Calvin Klein underwear was peeking out over the top of your sweats. You felt your whole face flush a bright red, your body temperature skyrocketing.

Bucky’s eyes drifted back up and locked with yours. He gave you a small smirk before turning back around to berate Steve for being a stick in the mud. It didn’t seem possible, but your blush seemed to spread across your chest and you could feel a small amount of sweat build on the back of your neck. What the hell? You closed your eyes and shook your head a bit to try to clear the flush from your body.

Calm down and just pop popcorn.

Just then Friday's voice spoke up “Tony is in the elevator on his way.”

“Thank fuck.” Sam said, which caused more grumbling from the lounge chair occupied by Steve. You giggled quietly to yourself as you poured some popcorn kernels into Tony’s fancy popcorn popper.

You turned to grab some butter from the fridge and almost slammed nose first into a rock hard chest. Two arms wrapped around your biceps to stop your forward momentum. Bucky chuckled softly.

“Whoa princess. Need any help?”

“Uh. Can you grab some butter?” You lifted your eyes off the small bit of skin showing above the neckline of his shirt (was he wearing a gold chain???) and locked eyes with him.

He looked at you for a second, the corner of his lip curled into a lopsided smirk. “Sure thing, Doll.”

He let go of your arms and turned to the fridge. You found your eyes scanning the rippling muscles of his shoulders and down the expanse of his back to his slim hips. It felt like you were peeling velcro apart when you finally forced your eyes to return to the popcorn machine.

Oh my god. Get your shit together.

Suddenly the door to the common room swung open “I have a surprise for you!” Tony’s loud voice called from the doorway.

Then you heard a booming voice (one you hadn’t heard in just about a year) bellow “I’m back midgardians!”

You swung around, jaw practically on the floor, to see if it really was who you thought it was. “THOR!” You squealed. You ran at him full steam. His rumbling laugh almost brought tears to your eyes as you launched yourself into his arms. He picked you up and spun you around. You pulled back to look at him with both palms on either side of his face. “How are you here? Why are you here? Is everything okay?”

He laughed, still holding you about a foot in the air and said “Well, Heimdall had brought me news that my bestie had begun to reside in the compound” you giggled when Thor used the term for best friend you had taught him the last time he was here “And I realized I had not returned to learn of your stories for over a year. It is about time that we ‘overturn the tea,’ is it not?” At this you, Peter and Sam absolutely lose your minds laughing.

“What?” Thor asks “It is time, is it not?”

Steve, Bucky and Tony are looking at the three of you in very obvious confusion. Between wheezing and fits of giggles you finally squeak out “It’s spill the tea, Thor.” This causes Peter to fall into another fit of laughter.

“What do you mean, ‘spill the tea’? Is that a game?” Steve asks.

Thor finally sets you down and turns to Steve while You, Peter and Sam try to catch your breath. “Lady Y/N taught me that midgardian phrase. I am told it means to tell dramatic stories, often those that involve your enemies.”

“Oh my god, Thor I missed you so much.” You laugh and hug him again. He wasn’t kidding, you two were besties. He was so interested in midgardian slang, movies and music and it seemed that most of the time you were the only one who had the patience to teach him things. Whenever he visited you two were basically inseparable and he never failed to make you laugh.

“What were your plans this evening, bestie?” You thought Peter might have an asthma attack or something if Thor kept making him laugh this hard.

“We’re watching a movie! Would you like to join?”

“Indeed!” Thor bellowed. He finally stepped away to great everyone else, giving big bear hugs to everyone. You wandered back to the kitchen to collect the popcorn that Bucky had finished making.

“I didn’t know you and thunderman were that close.” Bucky commented as you grabbed the giant bowl from his hands.

“Well, we don’t see each other that often, but he’s such a sweetie.” You snag a handful from the bowl and shove your face full of popcorn.

“Hm.” Bucky mumbles. He’s looking at the ground by his feet. He seems almost… upset?

“C’mon. We can finally watch!” You give him a little hip check before walking back into the living space. You plop down on the couch, this time between Peter and Thor. Bucky takes a spot in a lounge chair next to Steve. You notice his eyes snag a little too long on the blonde giant next to you.

After the movie is over, and some heated debates between Tony and Thor on which character is the best, you all decide to order some pizza.

You’re struck again at how wonderful it feels to just spend the evenings with your best friends, drinking beer and eating pizza, laughing at the stories Thor tells about Asgard.

When you were living off site, you didn’t have any friends besides… Him. It was supposed to be your little slice of the world separate from your life working with Shield. You tried to keep everything as compartmentalized as possible, but it was hard to make friends when you never really left the apartment and couldn’t be honest with anyone about who you really were. You hadn’t ever realized how lonely you had been for the 3 years you’d lived away from the compound until now. The energy of a room full of your favorite people was intoxicating.

Everyone was standing in the kitchen around the island, drinking beers and chatting. Vision and Wanda were sitting on the couch a few feet away being absolutely adorable. Thor, Steve and Bruce were swapping stories at the end of the island. Nat, Sam and Bucky were picking on Peter. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

You had just cracked open a new beer and started pouring it into a pint glass when Thor spoke up from across the counter.

“So, Y/N, what became of that man Elijah with whom you lived?”

Oh. Shit.

Mid-pour the beer slipped through your fingers and crashed to the counter. Beer went everywhere. Your hands and forearms were covered in sticky residue. Instantly your heart rate spiked and it was all you could do not to let your knees buckle and collapse right there onto the tile.

“Oh. Uh…” You mumbled out. You had to place your palms flat against the counter to keep your hands from shaking. You stared at the kitchen counter top where your glass sat between your hands, trying to force oxygen back into your lungs. It was silent for a bit too long and you could hear the drip drip drip of beer falling from the counter onto the kitchen floor.

“You lived with someone?” Wanda asked from the couch, looking very perplexed.

No one had really known about it. Tony knew, of course, because he needed “a damn good reason” for you not to live at the compound when you first got added to the team, but you had begged him to keep it a secret. Peter sort of knew, only because when he would drop by sometimes he could sense there was someone else in the apartment.

Thor knew because he had brought Asgardian liquor with him one time and you had stayed up on the couch in the compound and gotten hammered and it just sort of slipped out. You’d said something like ‘Oh he’s gonna be pissed when I don’t come home tonight’ and then Thor had questioned you and you’d just sort of… spilled. Well, not everything, but he got most of it.

You just… hadn’t told anyone else. It had started because Elijah had asked to be kept separate from your working life. He didn’t want your relationship overshadowed by “super people” who “didn’t have any idea how to be normal.”

As the years passed, it just started to be a habit, that you would keep secrets from Elijah about what you did at work, and you kept Elijah a secret from everyone.

You could feel everyone in the room staring at you.

“I’m sorry Lady Y/N… I was not aware that everyone did not know you lived with your fiancé.” Thor said softly from the other side of the counter. You winced. You could feel black spots forming in your vision as you tried to keep your breathing normal.

“It’s okay. Um. Yeah. That uh… didn’t work out.” You squeaked out. You couldn’t lift your eyes up to look at anyone. You were focusing all of your energy on not falling apart in front of them.

There was more silence, everyone in the room clearly reeling from learning that not only had you lived with someone for three years, but you were supposed to have married a man none of them knew. The only sound was the continual drip of beer off the edge of the counter. You couldn’t take it anymore.

With a choked “excuse me” you bolted from the room.

You missed Peter saying your name and getting up from his chair. You missed Nat pushing his shoulder back down with a whispered “let her be Peter.” You missed Thor looking at Tony and saying “I should not have said that” and Tony shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. You missed Sam staring down at his hands on the counter, lost in thought. You missed Wanda and Vision sharing a look. You missed Bucky launch himself from his seat to follow you, and Steve snagging Bucky’s arm to stop his forward momentum.

~0~

You crashed through the door to your room and flung it shut behind you. Leaning your back against the door, you slid down to your butt, hugging your knees to your chest. You started rocking back and forth and tried to slow your breathing down. You knew, after talking to your therapist, that this was a panic attack. In the logical half of your brain, you knew you weren’t dying, that no one was trying to attack you or kill you. You knew you could breathe oxygen just fine.

However, it definitely felt like you were dying.

You kept trying to heave oxygen in, but the longer you sat there the more your brain spiralled. You just kept thinking of the silence. The clear feeling of hurt that radiated off your friends, your family.

Your brain warped that silence, filling it with false ideas of your friends sharing accusatory glances. Of their hatred seething from them. Of their distrust and dislike of you bubbling to the surface. You scrubbed at your face. “No no no no” a mantra falling from your lips.

This wasn’t real. Your brain was trying to convince you that they hated you, but they hadn’t done any of the things your brain was trying to tell you they had. They weren’t like that, they didn’t find out things about you and immediately decide you weren’t worth it.

You leaned your head back against the door, knocking it a few times against the wood, trying to clear your brain. You couldn’t think about what happened. You couldn’t change it, you just had to focus on breathing now.

Easier thought than done.

There was a soft tap on the other side of the door, causing you to jerk forward reflexively, like you’d been burned.

“Hey sweetheart. Are you… okay in there?”

Bucky. Oh god. Not again. You refused to let him hold you again while you got nasty snot all in his mechanical arm. It simply wasn’t an option. You opened your mouth to tell him to get the hell away, but the only sound that came out was a small choked cough.

Ah. Right. You couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay. If you want your space that’s totally fine. I’m just… gonna sit here, okay? So you’re not alone. I’ll be right here, on the other side of the door, if you need something. Just try to breathe, okay?” Bucky murmured from the other side.

You were on your hands and knees now, staring at the door, gasping like a fish out of water. You could see the shadow of his feet just on the other side. You saw the light shift as he must have sat down. You heard a soft “thump” as his back hit the door.

There was something about that soft thump that instantly stabilized your racing heart. This was… good. There was no pressure of trying to talk to him or having him look at you while you were panicking, but you knew he was there. It was calming in a way you didn’t fully grasp.

You sat back on your feet and stared at your hands in your lap.

“If your hands tingle, I always find that if I tap each finger to my thumb one at a time, it helps.” Bucky suggested softly through the doorway. You tried it. Tapping one finger tip to your thumb at a time, starting with your pointer. Once you got to your pinky you reversed the order. After a few times, you realized your breathing had evened out and you could see more than just the tunnel vision in front of you.

You looked back up at the door. Bucky’s shadow still hovered just under the frame.

You cleared your throat and croaked “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You stayed there for a while longer, shifting your weight to one side and swinging your legs around to extend them in front of you. Eventually you laid back on the floor of your room and stared at the ceiling again. Your breathing was even and slow, and your muscles finally felt like they had lost all the tension.

You let your eyes fall shut as you melted into the rug underneath you.

~0~

You woke with a start, dreams of angry brown eyes and a messy flop of blond hair haunting you as you sat up in bed.

In bed.

How did you get here? The last thing you remembered was laying back on the entryway rug and closing your eyes…

Bucky.

You groaned and covered your face with your hands. Not again. At some point, you were really going to have to stop breaking down in front of him.

It was then that you remembered him giving you the advice of tapping your fingers to steady yourself. He had said something about him doing it… there was a sick feeling in your stomach thinking about Bucky suffering alone through that.

You stepped out of bed and went to take a long scalding shower before getting dressed. You should find Bucky this morning and thank him… again. You threw on a pair of sweatpants and a matching cropped sweatshirt, shoved your feet into your sneakers and stepped into the hallway.

“Friday?” You asked softly.

“Yes?” Friday’s lilt came down from above. She sounded softer than usual, almost like she was matching your sound level.

“Where is Bucky?”

“Agent Barnes is on the training level.”

“Thank you.”

You took the elevator down and stepped into the gym. It seemed like everyone was up early and in the gym this morning, crowded around the sparring mats.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you stepped up between Nat and Wanda to look at whatever it was that everyone else was watching.

They didn’t have to answer you, it was quite obvious. Thor and Steve were wrestling to the absolute death in the center of the mat. Steve was putting up a really good fight, but it looked like Thor had him beat.

“Oh my god.” You chuckled. Of course, everyone wanted their shot at sparing with the demigod, especially the super soldiers. It was rare to have a chance to spar with someone who was stronger than the serum made you, so every time Thor came he always did a few rounds in the ring.

You watched as Steve tried to wrap his legs around Thor and flip him over, but Thor had such a good wrap around Steve’s waist it just wasn’t going to happen. Thor brought one arm up and wrapped Steve in a vise-like headlock.

“Yield, little man. I have bested you.” Thor boomed out.

Steve hesitated, but eventually he tapped Thor’s forearm, signalling defeat.

Thor hopped up and started bouncing on his toes. “It was an exceptional attempt Captain, but you have gone soft since I’ve been in this realm.”

Steve groaned as he dragged himself up from the floor. “That, or you’ve somehow gotten stronger.”

Thor’s eyes popped up and found yours with a mischievous glint in them. Not unlike the one you’d seen in Loki’s eyes many times.

“Ah, Lady Y/N has awoken! Just in time for me to crush her into the floor!” Thor chuckled and beckoned you onto the mat.

“My god, Thor…” You groaned, pulling your sweater off over your head revealing your signature calvin klein sports bra you had thrown on that morning.

“I know I’m a god my lady, but the question is, what will you be?” Thor snarked at you. You just rolled your eyes.

“I’m not really dressed for this currently.” You retort, pulling your sneakers and socks off and tossing them to the side of the ring. You catch Bucky’s eye from where he sits just outside the ring. He looks like Thor has already thoroughly beaten him this morning, all sweaty and panting.

I want to lick the sweat off his chest.

Your head twitches involuntarily at the thought that just popped up unprompted in your mind. Behind you, you hear Wanda snort.

Great.

You send a small smile in his direction, to thank him for last night, he nods in recognition as he takes a big gulp of water from his water bottle. You turn to Thor and raise your fists in front of you.

“Alright big guy, lets see how long I can last.”

~0~

It’s surprisingly long, actually. What you lack in brute strength, you make up for in agility. According to Peter, you lasted two whole minutes longer than Bucky and five longer than Steve.

Doesn’t matter, you still feel like you’ve been hit by a truck. Or lightning.

You’re standing in the middle of the ring, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath when Thor places a hand on your back.

“Lady Y/N, I would love to accompany you to your room for some of the ‘girls day’ time.”

You chuckle. Thor loves doing facemasks and drinking champagne with you on your couch while you chat about anything under the sun. He asks nearly every chance he gets.

“Sounds great” you pant “Go shower and meet me up there in 30?”

“I will make haste.” Thor winks and turns to go.

You take a few more seconds to catch your breath as everyone goes back about their own workouts or heads up stairs. When you lift your head, Bucky is still packing up his gym bag just outside the ring.

“Hey, Buck?”

He looks up “What’s up?”

“I just… wanted to thank you. For last night. I know you probably have questions--”

“I don’t want to hear anything you’re not ready to tell.” Bucky cuts you off. “And don’t worry about it. Whenever you need me, I’m there.”

He’s finished putting things in his bag and starts to walk away. Something in you really doesn’t like that he’s moving away from you and you scramble to come up with something to keep him here, even for a second longer.

“Do you want to grab dinner?” You blurt.

He stops with his back to you for a moment before spinning around. “Dinner?”

“Uh…” Oh yeah. Real smooth. Really normal of you. “Yeah. Like, maybe we could go to that bar down the street tonight… and catch up?” You bite your bottom lip. You feel like such a freak right now. You’re asking him to dinner? Really?

Bucky’s eyes dart to your lips for a moment before bouncing back up to your face, but it’s noticeable enough that you instantly blush. You can feel the blood racing up to your face and you have to actively resist the urge to cover your cheeks with your hands. Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?

Bucky smirks at you and then clears his throat. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good. 7:00? We can take my bike.”

“Yeah perfect.” You choke out. “I’ll see you in the garage.”

“Great.”

He turns and leaves, once he’s far enough around the corner you slap a hand to your forehead and double over again. Oh my god. You were going to ride on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle to the bar down the street tonight and have dinner.

This should have felt normal. He’s Bucky. He’s your friend. You used to go grab breakfasts and coffees all the time together.

But something about this dinner felt way different. Your heart was hammering in your chest.

Oh god. What were you going to wear?

~0~

Thor scared the shit out of you when you stepped out of your bathroom wrapped in a towel thirty minutes later.

That’s right. Girl time.

“Jesus Thor.” You placed a hand on your chest as you gaped at the demigod sprawled on your couch.

“I know that guy! Isn’t he the son of a midgardian god?” Thor quips back, unperturbed by how badly he spooked you. “You left your door unlocked. I brought up all of the bottles of champagne that I was able to uncover in Tony’s not-so-secret chamber of wine. I thought you could decide which to begin our afternoon with.”

You laughed at that. He had indeed. There were easily twenty bottles of champagnes of different vintages on the table near your entry. Tony had a massive wine cellar that he always said was for “special occasions only.” Thor being here was pretty special, so hopefully he didn’t get too mad if a few of these bottles went missing.

“Let me put on some comfy clothes and grab some face masks.”

After you had dressed, applied a beautiful green tea facemask all over Thor and your faces and popped a bottle, you finally settled on the couch with Thor.

“Lady Y/N, I first want to apologize for bringing up something that you had shared with me in private in the presence of the team. I was unaware that it was something you desired to keep a secret from everyone. I’m honored that you shared something personal with me and I am deeply sorry for not respecting the way I should.”

You blinked at Thor. You’d almost forgotten that he had been the one to bring up Elijah last night. You’d thought so much about Bucky’s back against your front door and going to a dive bar with him tonight that you’d managed not to worry about the events of last night.

“It’s totally chill Thor. You didn’t know. I also… don’t really know why I kept it from them? I just hadn’t said anything so I was just caught off guard and didn’t know what to say. You know?”

“Yes! You did look quite upset. Did something unfortunate come between you?”

A mirthless laugh escaped your lips. You stared into the glass of bubbles in your hand. “You… could say that.”

“Is this one of those topics that you’d prefer to discuss, or one that you’d prefer to leave to your own heart?” Thor reached out with his foot and tapped your knee with his toes.

You smiled before lifting your eyes to his. “I think I’d like to keep it in my own heart for now. I’ll tell you someday, okay?”

Thor lifted his glass of champagne in your direction “To many more afternoons of scattering the tea!”

A giggle exploded out of you “It’s spill Thor! Spill!” You lifted your glass to clink with his, relaxing into the couch.

~0~

At approximately 6:48 in the evening you decided you simply were too antsy to stay in your room and stare at the ceiling for a minute longer.

You had a wonderful afternoon of “girl time” with Thor. He had stayed for a few hours, telling you about all the silly court drama that he knew was happening back in Asgard. It had felt so… normal. It was glorious.

After he left, you brushed your hair and looked at yourself in the mirror for probably twenty minutes before deciding against any makeup.

It’s just two friends going to dinner.

You had thrown on a pair of black combat style pants, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket over top. Casual, but still a little nicer than the sweats you had been wandering the compound in for the last two months. You still hadn’t fully wrapped your mind around why you were so nervous.

You take a deep breath, shove your feet in your combat boots and decide to just head to the garage now. You don’t want to keep him waiting, and you can just admire Tony’s cars while you wait.

The elevator drops you off in the lower level where all of the team's personal vehicles are parked. As you step out of the elevator, the door to the stairwell opens to reveal none other than the man himself. Bucky.

He looked… amazing. There. You admitted it. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, a black henley unbuttoned enough to confirm that he did indeed wear a gold chain and that he had a small scar at the top of his right pec.

As he walked he tossed a faded leather jacket on and the movement gave you a brief glimpse of skin where his shirt rode up.

Did this garage just raise in temperature by like 20 degrees?

You fought the instinct to fan yourself.

“What’s the matter with you princess? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckled as he breezed past you toward where his Harley Davidson was parked in the corner of the underground lot. His shoulder just barely brushed yours as he passed.

Somehow, you found your voice. “Do you always take the stairs?”

He didn’t turn around to respond “When the elevator is occupied.”

Well. That was… logical. Duh.

“Get your little ass over here, I’m starving.” He called behind him as he approached the bike.

You felt yourself blush from your hairline down to your toes. “Excuse me?”

“I said get your little ass over here so we can get to that bar and order.” He spun around and gestured to the bike, like he was a presenter on a game show showing you your prize. He patted the leather seat twice. “Your little ass goes here.”

“Right…” you mutter under your breath. God what the hell is wrong with you? You walk over to his bike in silence. He throws one leg over the machine, straddling it and hitting the kickstand. You paused momentarily beside the bike. “So, no helmets?”

Bucky turned to look at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face “Sweetheart, you’re superhuman.”

You just rolled your eyes at him as you finally swung your leg over the side of the bike. “Doesn’t make road rash hurt any less…”

He chuckled as he reached back to grab both of your hands “I’ll take care of you, doll.”

He pulled on your wrists until you slid forward a bit on the leather seat. Your hips were now slotted against each other, your chest melded against his back, your thighs in line. He wraps your hands around his abdomen so that your hands rest on the planes of his stomach. Then, he pats your hands twice, softly muttering “Hold on tight.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your forehead between his shoulder blades. You could hear the door to the underground garage rumble open. You took a deep breath before whispering “Okay…” into his back.

Bucky punched the gas and you took off into the crisp evening air.

[egelantier]

Yuletide Recs

Having had two days of more or less nothing but reading fics, I come bearing recs!

First of all, my amazing gifts:

The Goblin Emperor

For Thy Principles

The nohecharei of Edrehasivar VII were unparalleled in their defense of his person, but there were limits to even their prowess. When Maia first developed the fever, Cala quickly determined that it was not the end result of a magically-based assassination attempt – and from there it had to be left to the court physicians.

Maia falls ill, and Csethiro protects him as best she can.

Beautifully gentle Maia sickfic, with Csethiro holding him together. For me all for meeee.

Benjamin January Mysteries

Dry as a Bone

“Oh. Well, I’ve been better, maestro, been a hell of a lot better to tell truth.” Shaw stared at him for a long moment, and he was stunned to see honest to God grief in his eyes. Even when Shaw had just lost his brother he had been so much more himself than this lost man currently standing before him. “Not that I mean to put anything extra on your shoulders, I’m sure you’ve got enough of your own shit going on at present moment, but it seems like I’ve just lost my job.”

Shaw loses his job, and finally confronts Ben about trust (and lack thereof) between them. It’s GREAT.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

A Distraction Worth Losing

They may never be together, but the gods would have to move heaven and earth to split Rune and Brand apart.

Brand, Rune and The Kiss incident. (Poor messed up babies, somebody save them.)

And fics of the collection:

17776, Astreiant, Raksura, Frederica, The Gentlemen, The Goblin Emperor, Hades, Innkeeper Chronicles, Jeeves, Kate Daniels, King Arthur the movie, My Next Life as a Villainess, Nirvana in Fire, No. 6, Psmith, The Secret Garden, The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty, Swordspoint, The Tarot Sequence, Teixcalaan Series, The Temple of the White Rat verse

17776: What Football Will Look Like in the Future

so far, so fast

When Manny gets a craving for some fancy meal he had once, over ten thousand years ago, Nick decides he’s gonna fulfill that craving, no matter how hard it is. Because real romance is about making the impossible happen for his husband.

Goddamn transcendental.

Go Get It

Sometimes you start out just planning to get some groceries with your husband, and next thing you know, you’re committing to join the most hopeless team in college football.

Nick and Manny decide to play. It’s perfect.

Afterlife

A young man dies six months before the end of human death; his loss saves five lives, which end up much longer than anyone expects. (A series of worldbuilding vignettes about original characters in the 17776 setting.)

Made me cry, in a very cathartic way.

Astreiant Series - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett

April dressed in all his trim

A quiet evening in spring.

Sweet little slice-of-life with lovely sensory details.

Books of the Raksura

The Second Consort

“When Glow arrives, be friendly and welcoming,” Ember said. “Not scary.”

“Why does everyone think I’m going to scare him?”

Chime said, “They can see your face when you look at him.” He paused, glancing over at Moon. “That face, that’s the one.”

Ember sighed. “I remember being in his position. It’s pretty nerve-wracking coming to a new court and not knowing what’s going to happen to you there - whether they’re going to welcome you or shun you, whether you’ll make new friends, whether a queen is going to claim you…” He came and put a sympathetic hand on Moon’s shoulder. “Glow is probably worried about all of those things, and missing his home and clutchmates, and it’s our job to try and help him relax.” For a moment Moon thought he was just being soft-hearted, until Ember added, “He won’t open up and tell us what’s really going on unless he’s relaxed.”

Jade takes in a new consort, on Moon’s permission, and everybody is delightfully adult about it.

Frederica

Lady Alverstoke

Frederica commences her first Season as a married woman by planning a ball, promising most straitly that her husband will have nothing whatsoever to do …

Sweet and funny slice-of-life post-happy-ending for canon.

**The Gentlemen (2019) **

Even

The week after he intercepts Fletcher, that squirrelly little cunt, outside the London Miramax office, Raymond reluctantly ventures down to Brixton.

Under normal circumstances, Raymond tends to give this part of Brixton a wide berth, but he has unfinished business that needs attending to. Of course, that doesn’t mean he has to like being accosted by the overwhelming smell of greasy fish and chips when he pushes the car door open, doesn’t mean he has to be pleased about stepping into a piece of chewed-up gum the moment he sets a foot on the kerb.

But then, he can always take a shower after an errand in Brixton. The deep-seated discomfort of unfinished business doesn’t wash off that easily.

Raymond tries to pay Coach back for saving his life, and it doesn’t quite go as planned :D

The Goblin Emperor

The Archduke’s Discovery

Prince Nemolis goes on a journey, and learns a bit more than he wanted to know.

Really great point of canon divergence, and true and precise character voices.

Hades

all the spaces between us

For a place full of the dead, crammed with ghostly shades and nothing but the endless lull of eternity unchanging, gossip sure travelled fast in the Underworld.

Or, Zagreus mulls over his relationship with Thanatos while the rest of the Underworld get overly invested.

Slow, slow, slowest of burns.

Innkeeper Chronicles - Ilona Andrews

A Quick Trip

“It’ll be a quick trip,” Maud said, more to herself than to Arland. “No one will even notice we’re gone.”

Pirates are plaguing an ally, just outside of vampire space. Maud and Arland don some aesthetically beat-up armor and try to get more information from the pirates themselves. Of course, plans only last until you meet your enemy. Or your enemy’s giant alien attack boar.

Excellent canon voice, action/adventure sprinkled with badassery and hilarity.

Jeeves & Wooster

August Thirteenth

Discovering that this is not the first August thirteenth that he’s lived through, that certainly was a head scratcher. Luckily Bertie has the stalwart presence of his man’s man, Jeeves.

Very, very great and satisfying use of the time loop.

Kate Daniels - Ilona Andrews

lookin’ like a snack (cake)

It took Barabas a while to figure it out, because he wasn’t used to not being taken seriously.

Barabas considered several ways to phrase it, and finally settled upon, “Do you have a thing for twinks?” Christopher knocked his head back against the headrest: once, then again. “Is that a yes?”

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

When Goosefat Bill finds himself in a difficult situation, the last thing he wants is the King to show up and “help”, in his own unique and unexpected way.

Goosefat Bill does not need to be rescued by his King. But he might just enjoy it a little.

My Next Life as a Villainess (Anime)

All I Have To Bring Today

Catarina and Sophia had been discussing the latest in the Devilish Count series, and Sophia had mentioned how romantic the surprise picnic the count had planned for his lover was and how she wished for someone to surprise her like that.

“What about you, Catarina? Have you ever wished for someone to sweep you off your feet?” Sophia had asked.

Catarina makes a choice! As sweet and as hilarious as the canon.

Nirvana in Fire

Adverse Event

What a pitiful man must he have become, if the only thing he could provoke in bed was a monologue on his character flaws.

: or, the famous strategist mei changsu plays xanatos speed chess against truth serum: the fic.

Mei Changsu gets hit with an accidental truth serum; it doesn’t stop him from lying to himself, but it does buy Jingyan a clue.

Records of the Land of Xiang

There was something of Xiao Jingyan there, in the firmness of his jaw, the unforgiving slash of his brows, and most clearly in the eyes that neither saw nor conveyed deception. But Long Zhan was not Jingyan, could never be, no matter how much Changsu might wish otherwise, because Jingyan was dead.

In service to a very-much-alive Prince Qi, Jingyan dons a Jianghu-typical disguise and infiltrates the Jiangzuo Alliance to suss out this Mei Changsu fellow and see if he might be useful in helping them re-open the Chiyan conspiracy case. Basically, a slightly ridiculous premise where everyone is running around the Jianghu with masks, multiple identities, and secret agendas.

Fascinating and fun AU scenario that delves, among other things, into Mei Changsu the jianghu chef, not Sir Su the court schemer.

suffering as I suffer you

The first time Jingyan stays the night at Su Manor, he discovers an uncomfortable truth about Mei Changsu.

Excellent extrapolation of Mei Changsu’s illness into his nightly routine - with Jingyan watching…

Here, In Our Arms

With the world put to rights, however briefly, Xiao Jingyan and Mu Nihuang take the opportunity to make a fuss over their beloved Lin Shu, and will not take no for an answer.

Sweet moment of comfort.

Find the Coals Amid the Ashes

Despite Changsu’s assertions, Lin Chen is a well brought up person. He would never violate his host’s privacy during a social call. It would be inexcusable, for example, to break into a marquis’s private alchemy lab in the middle of said marquis’s birthday party, in order to search said alchemy lab for certain hard to find medicinal herbs, which one has reason to believe can be found therein. These would be the actions of a man without honour, of a man who has only desperation to his name.

Lin Chen crashes a party and makes a new friend.

The best team up ever :D

Dead Letters

Mei Changsu isn’t the only schemer in Da Liang.

Fei Liu fixes things, in the most Fei Liu way imaginable, and it’s great.

No. 6

All Good Things

In the midst of a crisis for No. 6, Nezumi returns to Shion’s side.

A reunion! And cuddling.

Psmith

The Psky Is The Limit

“As this ship’s Orator, my mission is still as it was in the beginning and shall ever be, world without end. It is to hail any message sent by comrades from outer space and pass it on to you verbatim. Well! The hour, I say, has come. The Word has come into being. Here comes Psmith, bearing news of great mirth: the intercom has spoken.”

(A Mike and Psmith Space AU)

Psmith in space! Hysterically funny Psmith in Pspace, at that.

Psmith Pops In

Psmith reached over and solicitously loosened Mike’s scarf, his fingers brushing the skin of Mike’s neck, and that young man, to his horror, felt heat creeping up from where gloved fingers brushed his bare skin. Really, this blushing nonsense was getting out of hand. Ever since Psmith had tried to take the blame in the case of the painted dog, Mike had developed an inexplicable habit of turning hot and cold around him, and these odd responses had become more and more frequent.

Very funny! And then very tragique! And then jussssst right.

The Secret Garden

The Space Garden

When Meri La Nix was sent from the Mars colony to live with her aunt at Missiles Wait Manor, nobody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. But some of them thought it.

Beautifully inventive space retelling - with gardens, still.

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty

The sky spinning above him

In which there’s a jewellery thief on the loose, Tang Fan plays dress up, gets a mild concussion and also a boyfriend.

Frothy, sweet, well-grounded and hot. Also hilarious (check the end note!)

truth in fiction

Three days after Wang Zhi leaves the capital, bits and pieces of his extensive library begin arriving at Sui Zhou’s house.

Sui Zhou is really committed to research and accuracy in Tang Fan’s porn. It’s delightful.

Time don’t fool me no more

“The electrician is a Tang dynasty spy,” he says, dumping some of his eggs in Tang Fan’s bowl.

Tang Fan nods, shovels more food in his mouth, and starts talking again.

Past or future, Tang Fan has Priorities. And Sui Zhou is weak.

Meeting at the End

Sui Zhou knew he never should have let Tang Fan go alone. He knew he should have gone with him.

Really, really great and desperate whump. Super satisfying.

clever boy

Tang Fan never spares a smile for any of the girls at Wang Zhi’s establishment, he’s noticed. That’s alright, though. It means Wang Zhi gets his attention for himself.

Wang Zhi falling, falling hard; it’s delightful.

a bold and brilliant sun

“You’re sure you didn’t do something to it? They don’t usually stall out,” Sui Zhou says. He looks away from Tang Fan, out the windshield at the endless rust-red of the planet.

Tang Fan pouts at this, and slumps down on the edge of the console, feet propped up at an absurd angle against the pilot’s seat. “You think I’d fake a mechanical issue just so that they’d send a sexy Fleet crewman out here to rescue me?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he giggles. “Okay, I would do that, but I promise that this time the problem is real.”

Space AU! Most excellent space AU condensing all there is to love about the canon in one perfect package.

Blind Taste Test

Wang Zhi invites Tang Fan to evaluate Joyous Brothel’s chefs — but it’s Tang Fan and Sui Zhou who are really being tested.

Wang Zhi, ever helpful :)

Authorial Intent

Sui Zhou and Tang Fan end up in hot water yet again. Kinky sex ensues.

Hilarious, kinky, heartfelt, and in character.

Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner

Chrysopoeia

It struck Alec that this would have been much easier if their positions were reversed. Richard would have known what to do if he’d been dragged back here with a hole in his gut. He was quite simply not supposed to be the one on this end of the equation. In fact, it was possible he had done something very bad to deserve this.

Richard is wounded, and Alex is coping. Excellent h/c and excellent bloodplay and sharp, painful slice of Alex’ POV, excellently rendered.

At first — this was just like him — he thought he was hearing god. But it was only the man in the bed, whose face had turned toward him on the ragged pillow.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

Third’s a Charm

Addam asks a favor of Brand.

Addam asks Brand for help, which ends up being exactly what Brand and Rune need.

Pretty good

Five times Brand crawls into Rune’s bed and one time Rune crawls into Brand’s.

Brand and Rune, through the years.

Teixcalaan Series - Arkady Martine

Also in the Act of Reaching

When Three Seagrass arrived at Lsel Station, she was, officially at least, traveling as a private personage. She had missed Mahit and the possibilities they’d both chosen to turn away from. She also had– would always have– a gaping hole in her life where Petal had once stood.

It was simply that, left on her own, Three Seagrass wouldn’t have let either absence drag her to the ass-end of beyond.

Reunion, metaphors and realigment. Subtle and clever and just right.

The (concept of the) World Was Wide Enough

Yskandr Aghavn comes to the world like a drowning man comes to shore, but he is living on borrowed time. Teixcalaan has so many wonderful things to choke on.

Teixcalaan has had his heart for all of his life, has elevated him, corrupted him, and discarded him.

It is Lsel that he thinks of as he dies.

Temple of the White Rat Universe - T. Kingfisher

If Grace Is Too Much

Zale is given a case by Bishop Beartongue which turns out to be more complicated and personal than a holy advocate-priest would prefer.

Clever and sweet and carefully shocking, but in a very right way.

Outreach

“We don’t generally assess the… cursédness… of objects, trees or otherwise,” Beartongue said.

Utterly delightful.

[pixelzprince]

Circuit - Lore Fic

FINALLY!! This lore fic has been about two weeks  in the making now, and finally we can post it!

It’s a bit of backstory regarding Incandescent and Chill (and Wolvesbane, a bit) and the misadventures the thrill-seeking young dragons in the Hewn City get up to - basically an excuse to write a bunch of headcanons for the Shade. And let’s just say, when the most cursed city in an entire Flight territory is way more saturated with magic than usual.. something’s bound to go horribly wrong.

Warnings: Some mild horror themes, unreality/slight derealization/existential crisis stuff, you know. We’re dealing with the 10% More Eldritch Shade here after all. Also, mentions/implications of bullying, eugh.

Probably the darkest thing we’ll actually write out in our character lore, to be honest though things get better after this, it’s just a Not So Pleasant inciting incident-

With that out of the way, onto the show!

"So it's like, a ghost-themed biking group?" Chill had asked on the way to the venue. "Sounds.. kinda forced to me, to be honest." 

His neon friend let out a poorly stifled guffaw, briefly lifting a claw from the handles of her bike to hide her grin. "I don't think you're in any position to say that, Mister 80s band tees."

Chill frowned, clinging a bit tighter to Ink's shoulders as they zoomed through the night aboard the latter's tricked out three wheeler bike; Incandescent's parents hadn't allowed her to get a proper motorcycle, and all Chill had was his old mountain bike, though the Mirror couldn't truthfully say he felt all that safe clinging to the spiny shoulders of a Banescale for dear life on a vehicle meant for one.

Thus, he'd urged her to drive as slowly and carefully (the damage to his "coolness" didn't go unnoticed) as she could manage given her high octane lifestyle - giving them much time to talk on the trip. Plenty of time to sling banter and waste breath meant for more valuable discussions.

"Right, so... you really capitalize on that Halloween aesthetic?" Chill tried again, wording his question carefully to dodge Ink's edgy defenses; for how nice his friend could be, she was like a spring-loaded trap full of retorts ready to snap given the right ammunition. "Everyone thinks you're some sorta cult, but it's just for the rep, right..?"

Ink quirked a wry grin, teeth glinting in the low lights of the city. "Something like that." Her spines rattled with something akin to excitement, making Chill quietly yelp and adjust in the seat to avoid getting skewered. "Reputation's power, right?"

Chill fought the conditioned urge to shoot some witty sarcasm back, though his contemplation was interrupted as the bike came to an abrupt halt, worsened by the sudden prickling of scales against his arms.

"We're here," Ink supplied.

She slid off the bike, radiant scales glistening in the neon lights of the shopping center. Chill barely caught the discarded helmet slung at him, the weight smacking against his chest and knocking the air out of him. He called after her as he fumbled, "Heavy helmet for a hard head!"

Ink gave no indication that she'd heard him, merely striding off towards the parking lot of a nearby pizza place. Chill frowned, disappointed in the lack of acknowledgement. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the childish irritation, before hesitantly beginning to follow Ink.

He kept his head held low, eyes shifting around to observe the creeping murk of the city's almost unnatural darkness; even at only dusk, even with the piercing glow of dozens of light sources (the motorbikes' custom lights, the LED of the storefronts, the subtle hues of his own luminous capsule trait, his overwhelmed mind rattled off) the Hewn City's oppressive night seemed to leech as much warmth and luminescence as it could.

And this was Light territory; a shudder went through Chill as he dared to imagine what Shadow or Ice's expanses looked like at night, away from most sources of radiance.

Slinking past an unrelated crowd congregated by the road (they smelled of pizza, sweat, and ozone, probably some sports team, ugh), the Mirror soon reached his destination, a small group of dragons around his age, some younger, all gathered in the darkest corner of the parking lot.

How convenient.

Some were lazily leaned against their bikes as makeshift lounges, while others stood almost like guards, alert and scanning the area. Chill caught the eye of one of the latter category, a Nocturne with strikingly patterned scales. Their eyes widened as their gazes met, before they scowled and turned away slightly. They muttered something to their companion, a rather anxious looking Fae who was half coiled by the tail around a metal-studded bike just a tad too big for them. The Fae looked almost as out of place as Chill, wearing a brightly patterned hoodie and trying to look tough, though the amusing juxtaposition did little to reassure him.

Just what kind of crowd was this-?

Ink tugged him over, draping an arm over his shoulder in a gesture that, outwardly, may have seemed protective. Chill frowned and glanced up to see the mischievous, "I'm dragging you into shenanigans" grin that betrayed otherwise. He wilted under her conniving gaze, silently resigning himself to whatever hazing or crimes this so-called "biking club" had in mind.

Vandalism? Petty crime? He couldn't say he was up for it, himself, but he hoped whatever the group of off-kilter rebels had planned would at least be fun in the moment. Anything but bike racing, at least...

The wind began to pick up a bit, drowning out some of the quieter chatter around him. He allowed himself to relax, if only a tad bit; perhaps they were just.. hanging out. Loitering was a crime in some places, right? Passive crime, "safe" crime. Chill, figuring that the others had no interest in hanging out with him, distracted himself by counting the treasure in his pockets, wondering if he had enough to get himself a slice of pie. He may have been half Fae, but anyone, enhanced Mirror senses or not, could smell the thick, syrupy scent of apple cobbler wafting through the air from the pizza place.

It was all... so passive. Boring, but pleasant.

Of course, something had to give.

After what seemed like ages of tense stillness, Ink spoke up suddenly, her voice rumbling like a foreboding storm cloud, which Chill felt from where he was currently hugged to her side. Of course, the calm before the storm was over.

Despite everything, her voice was a tad comforting, a familiar sort of "danger" instead of the alarm bells that had initially screamed from every other corner of this place. Chill clung to her subconsciously, glaring out at the others and trying to tune out whatever was said, to just focus on the pure tone... dissociate into the void, or however the halfhearted joke went.

Despite his efforts, a few words slipped by, "Summoning" and "power" and whatnot. Part of the ghost gimmick, he assumed. He shuddered from the sudden, brisk breeze that whipped by, though instead of being hugged closer, he was abruptly shoved towards the center of the crowd.

A yelp escaped him as he stumbled to regain his bearings, his claws painfully catching on some uneven pieces of concrete. He hissed, swaying, before he  glanced around to see what he'd missed in his half-attentive musings. 

When had they formed an actually cohesive circle..? And around him specifically..? He looked back at Ink for explanation, though she averted her gaze. The wind rushed by, now deafening. It'd picked up unnaturally quickly, and Chill soon located its source, a growl ripping from his throat as he once again met the eyes of the Nocturne.

Airborne Parchment?! Where would they get something like that? Instead of using the windbound material for its intended purpose of bringing life to drawn objects, the supposed leader of the group was merely willing forth elemental gales of wind into existence. They didn't seem to have much hold over it, but control wasn't the intention, merely... power.

"What are you doing?!" Chill hollered. He snapped out of his stupor, storming towards the amateur spellslinger. Their eyes seemed to widen a fraction, perhaps in shock, though before more words could be exchanged, their previously awkward Fae companion leapt into action, shooting forth and headbutting Chill right in the stomach.

It wasn't a very hard hit, rather a precise one. Capsule dragons were known for their vulnerable stomach area, and sure enough, Chill reeled back, hardly able to prevent himself from crumpling to his knees back in the center of the circle. He was freezing and burning all at the same time, battered by brisk winds and the uneasy sort of thrum that rippled through the earth itself.

And yet, finally, through the gale, voices rang true. "We've never done this before, true.." It was a tinny, raspy voice that grated on Chill's ears. "But but but!! Someone naïve was needed to call forth the Shade. Call forth, not use as a vessel. He won't be hurt."

"So he's the flippin bait you mean?! Can it with the sugarcoat." A painful shockwave rattled Chill's senses as Ink screamed from somewhere above him. "And you've never done this before? He's a test dummy if anything-"

Her hands are blazing with light, undoubtedly, as she growled, "You said you knew what you were doing."

"Silence," a third, cool voice intercepted. It reverberated much stronger than the rest. "It has already begun. The artifact will draw the Shade near."

The Shade? 

Chill's eyes stung as he forced them open, and he instantly regretted it. His surroundings were awash with too-bright colors, the dragons around him more like blobs of light against the pitch of his surroundings. Alarms blared in the back of his disoriented brain, and he bared his teeth, trying to stand. His claws uselessly scrabbled against the suddenly slick concrete for some purchase, and by the time he managed to stand, he could faintly see something somehow darker than the existing murk rising from the cracks.

Liquid dripping upward, unburdened by the constraints of reality.

And all fell silent, as if the world itself paused to gaze into the void.

He watched it for a moment, himself, mesmerized by its headache-inducing, impossible blackness. It swayed in an inviting, inquisitive manner, hardly blotting out the dull panic slowly igniting in the Mirror's bones. Only the very edges of its fluid form seemed to reflect light, almost like a cartoonish outline that barely detracted from how otherworldly the substance was. 

The Shade..

A quiet, almost breathless whisper shook the stillness, "It worked..."

And Chill's world exploded into white hot pain, impossible fireworks set aflame behind his eyes.

~~~~~

A pulse. A pain. A thrum of negative power. 

A shockwave cuts through the souls of all in the crowd, invasive and calculating and yet erratic all the same. Wild to their perception and coiling and thriving with an intelligence beyond this world. It.. analyzes them, down to the core, samples their magic and minds, and then it's gone. 

The all-encompassing murk seems to draw in all light like an amorphous black hole. It's fluid and yet like plasma, burning and freezing, hollow and yet dense. It moves with a weight that's not quite physical, though fearsome and ancient all the same. Though as soon as the display of eldritch un-energy begins, it stills, settles, coalesces in the center of the circle in a more manageable form.

The summoning worked... or so they'd thought.

The Nocturne stares, captivated. The now useless parchment drops limply from their claws as they breathe, "Oh... Lightweaver.."

Ink breaks the stillness with a snarl, "Orbit!" and in an instant, the Banescale's upon the summoner, a tangle of claws and spikes and conflict. The summoner has no chance to react, the air knocked out of them as Incandescent crushes them prone to the ground and screams in their face, "What did you DO-"

They manage to whisper, "The summoning worked," though their heart's not in it. They cast a forlorn gaze towards the semi-solid insubstantiality. Their poor artifact, perfectly crafted to contain traces of the Shade... lost to this blunder. "At a cost..."

The sentiment sends Ink hysterical. "At a cost?" She devolves into wordless screams, all fight leaving her as she weakly shakes Orbit, who stares into the tearful gaze hollowly. Others break from their frozen state to attempt to break up the fight, life and energy, albeit a tense sort, flooding back.

Life cannot be paused for long, after all. The elements, however dimmed they may be, quickly resume their presence.

Ignoring the halfhearted tussle, the Fae from before hops down from his perch, silently striding past the "fight". His palms flare with magic, bright and cold and merciless, matching the shine of his eyes. Gone is the awkwardness, even in the face of the Shade itself.

The insubstantiality, which has collected into the form of the Mirror that it claimed, raises its "head" slowly, shakily in a false show of weakness. Its eyes, the only spots of light on it, blaze like searchlights, betraying its true strength.

The Fae speaks, that raspy tone adding a hint of menace to his words, "A failure.. another failure." He bares his teeth and snarls, "An expensive failure."

Another? The impossibly lightless plasma inches back, fan-like crests pinning back as it gazes into the wild eyes of disappointment and scorn. The Shade does not know fear... but all this creature knows is the impulse of fight or flight humming in its hollow core.

Something akin to a heartbeat pulses in its "chest". Quick, fearful, hardly present. Move, flee.

The fighting's died down, Ink dragged away from Orbit's huddled and silent form, and all the Banescale does is scream into the sky, into the speckled night. Yet the darkness she screams at is nowhere near the impossibility of the Shade which has claimed her friend.

Fear. The heartbeat stutters. Run.

Elemental ice, wicked and glowing, freezes the spot where the being had been mere moments before. The Fae spits a venomous string of blights, at the summoning, at the lost artifact, at the waste of time. But the residual darkness staining the ground isn't the Shade he'd aimed to erase.

It's already long gone, fleeing through the gaps of reality itself, through the tear from which it arrived.

~~~~~

Find safety.

Get out of there. Away. Far away.

But where..?

~~~~~

The fragment of Shade rematerializes in the subway. From the darkness itself, it's ejected, the ambient Shadow element of this world rejecting its unnatural presence and leaving it to sizzle in the fluorescent, buzzing lights of the few operational signs in this district.

And yet, it relaxes, collapsing shockingly solidly upon the cold, smooth pavement.

It's silent for once, the normal hustle and bustle of the city having been driven out by recent damages done to this railway. Even the usual stragglers, kids like Ink's club, who normally loiter around the "spooky abandoned subway" for kicks have long since either gone home or to the park to camp out.

Not even the most daring of delinquents would test their luck napping in the hollow depths of the earth. Not in Light territory, especially.

They say Light, for all its pristine brightness, hides something eldritch. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows after all.

Perhaps, this is that something.

With that thought, the insubstantiality lets out a cry.

Get to safety. Hide.

It manages to stand, first shakily onto all fours, then to its hind legs. It limps towards the darkest corner, baking in the light, before it stumbles and trips to its knees again, gasping. The air passes through it, not that it needs to breathe; nonetheless, it curls up and forces itself to inhale and exhale, if only to replicate the life that it'd sensed all around it just minutes before.

Breathe.

It scrabbles at its chest its claws finding little purchase in the slick, incorporeal material making up its form. Frictionless, there's no way to scratch through to tear out the artifact inside, now bound to its metaphorical core.

It’s alive. ALIVE.

Yet the mere contact sends it reeling, light shimmering from within and just barely reflecting off its body, enough to outline its limbs among the tangled darkness, to give some definition to its form.

It’s… I’m real. I'm alive. I'm real.

The tentative balance of energy and nothingness snaps, allows life to win over, if only slightly. He remembers, his eyes glowing not with a pure, absent white like before, but with a blend of violet and fiery hues, a rapidly shifting twilight twinkling in his gaze.

Time releases a breath it'd been holding since the threads of reality first snapped.

They'd summoned The Shade, of all things. They'd tethered it to an artifact, which had tethered itself to him. He could still, if only faintly, feel his own magic humming beneath the oppressive gloom which coated (comprised?) his form, but it was.. contaminated, thoroughly so.

His poor excuse for a heart thumped once more, only seeming to beat prominently when he was struck with powerful emotion. He held his paws to his chest, focusing on that sound, willing it to continue, to prove he was still of the living realm.

Yet the heartbeat stilled soon enough, merely the erratic pulsing of a cursed artifact attempting to keep the Shade in check. To keep things in balance, in control.

The altruistic part of him was glad that such an artifact was now useless to that group. With such potential, to control even a piece of an otherworldly horror... he didn't even want to imagine what it could be used to bring about.

Petty crimes, he at least hoped. Petty crimes deluxe edition, don't get caught.

A bitter laugh escaped him, distorted and crumbling in the umbra. No need to worry about crimes now, at least. Their power... it was his now... it was him now. 

Or perhaps he was its. 

He waved a claw, watched it seem to flicker as if already cutting through atoms in the air with a single gesture, leaving smoky afterimages behind.

As the memories of the past thirty or so minutes flooded back, he realized, he can do just that, he has done just that, slipped out of the physical plane and just moved, perhaps faster than light for a moment, even. 

So that's what teleportation really was.

The childish part of him would've relished in the idea of obtaining cosmic power, like some sort of superhero, though he knows better. His own magic fights constantly within, a storm of elemental energy caught in an endless cycle of extinguishing and reignition, with the artifact in the center, regulating it all.

He's no superhero, and this is no origin story.

He stared at the high, arching ceilings, at the darkness that would've once strained even his Shadow element eyes.

He's no superhero... he's just a circuit.

[jovialjudgebonkalmond]

Inevitable, Ch 1

Aight. So, I got crotchety and decided to write a fic. Obvious disclaimer, I don’t own the characters or universe in which the story takes place - yes internet I am that old, thank you.

Summary: Monty is alive, in jail. A recounting of his experiences and memories and basically all those flashbacks we weren’t given in season 4 that I am butthurt about. It is AU in the sense that he is still alive whilst Clay & Co are attempting to frame him for Bryce’s murder. Obvious spoiler alerts if you haven’t seen season 4.

Pairings will be Monty x Winston mainly. So far this is all from Monty’s POV but that may change down the line.

Warnings include violence, sex, drug use, rape, murder, and basically everything graphic and bad you can imagine. Will absolutely contain smut. Oh, and swearing. Yay, debauchery. 

Word Count: 2,963

Another warning: I haven’t written fanfiction for like...15 years guys. Go easy on me. Also, please excuse the shitty username. I didn’t pick it and I am far too lazy to change it.

Another another warning: This is from Monty’s point of view. Clearly he didn’t view his actions with the totality of how devastatingly monsterous they were. I condemn his actions, he’s a rapist and deserved jail time. As we saw in s3 and in snippets of s4 he didn’t share that point of view. I think Monty is a dynamic character that’s interesting and I relate a lot to his back story. That’s why I was motivated to write this.

The air was thick, heavy, and moist. It had that stench of too many bodies crammed into an enclosed space, like the end of the night at a house party and you're still sober and all you can smell is stale sweat and the old farts that people pretend they aren't sneaking out when they're grinding on each other.

Not that I have much experience with being the sober one at the end of the night.

Montgomery de la Cruz kept his jaw clenched and shoulders squared as he walked to the dining hall. As he passed other men, all dressed in the same ugly orange jumpsuits, he made brief eye contact. Walking with your eyes down here was a sign of weakness and he had a target on his back from the moment he arrived. His shoulders, back, and ribs ached with his movements. It hadn't taken the other inmates long to get acquainted with him, a matter of hours really. The urge to hunch his shoulders and put a hand to stable his broken ribs was overwhelming, and fighting it made the vein in his neck throb annoyingly in cadence with his pulse and footsteps.

  White, black, brown, gnarled, wrinkled, scarred, baby-faced youth, tattooed or not.... Monty silently made an inventory of their faces and features. One way or another, they were all just fucking assholes waiting for their opportunity. It was baffling just how much it reminded him of high school. The dining hall even had the same layout as a cafeteria, the same dull drone of a few hundred pricks all talking at once. He scanned his I.D. and settled into the end of the meal tray line, leaving an arm's length of room between himself and the back of the inmate ahead of him. He was a slight, wiry Latino with a snake tattooed from his shoulders up his neck. Only moderately safer than lining up behind someone else. Race dictated almost everything here.

But his charges changed the rules. Sexually assaulting a minor carried out its own price in jail. He wasn't even safe within his own demographic. 

Which was fucking bullshit anyway. Tyler was basically the same age and it wasn't fucking sexual assault for fuck's sake.

Not that anyone here gave a fuck.

Oh, and then there were the murder charges. Fucking Clay Jensen. He grabbed the plastic tray from the stack. It was the same ugly beige that the cement walls were painted. There were slits for windows close to the ceiling like a low-rent basement suite in the wrong part of town, with that cage wire in-between the panes of glass. So small even a tiny bitch like Standall wouldn't fit through them. It was incredible how much the human body craved the fresh air and cool breeze of an open window the moment you realize you may never feel it on your skin again.

Lunch was by far the best meal of the day. The food wasn't...terrible. Today it was plain lettuce chopped up as a 'salad', sliced ham on white Wonder Bread, and some kind of from the bag frozen brown slop passed off as soup.  The silver lining was the butterscotch pudding. It reminded him of the milk cake his mom used to make him on his birthday, sort of. He stopped at each station and watched the inmates who worked the kitchen plop the items on his tray. The kitchen work was reserved for the favourites, for the most part. After all, what else are you gonna do on the outside with a record?

He looked for an empty table and dropped his tray on it with a soft clacking of plastic on poured concrete. The tables and chairs were rows of picnic style benches made out of concrete and steel, bolted into the concrete floor. They were hard, cold, and uncomfortable just like everything else in this fuckin' place. He supposed that was the point. Everyone here was just in the grown-up version of a time out corner... from life, possibly for life. He sat down, the cold, hard seat digging into the bones in his ass.

It was unnerving, intimidating... and so terrifying he had been breathless since the moment he arrived. Like a white hot fist was clenched across his whole chest, suffocating him with the weight of his fucking mistakes. So many fucking mistakes. It made his head spin like he was living in some kind of alternate reality or a fucking nightmare. Although, if he was honest...he always knew it would end up like this. Especially without Bryce around to clean up his fucking mess this time.

The hot night air whipped his face as he pressed on the gas pedal, the stars flashing by above him as he sped down the empty road. Justin reached between them and turned the volume up, blasting the music so he felt it pumping through himself like a weird tachycardia.

"I fucking love this song." He yelled, sparking up a joint. He took a few puffs off of it to get it started before passing it over. When he exhaled the air around them swilled with the familiar skunky aroma. Monty laughed, guiding the old Jeep with one hand and reaching for the joint with the other.

"Of course you do, its a shitty fucking song." he chuckled, inhaling in a slow pull. It burned at the back of his throat. He held it in for a few seconds before exhaling and shaking his head and passing it back.

"That's cheap shit."

"Well yeah, I'm not fucking Bryce Walker." Justin laughed, the streetlights illuminating his black eye. His mother had a new asshole boyfriend who picked tonight to use Justin as a human punching bag...and well that's what brothers were for. It's not like Monty had anything better to do, anyway. He flipped his signal to turn right and pulled into the parking lot by the rocky beach. They could throw rocks and sticks into the water, maybe set some shit on fire and get shitfaced. Justin took another hit off the joint and pinched the end out with his fingertips, rubbing the ash into his skin like a salve.

"Neither am I, man, neither am I..." he muttered. Justin and Monty weren't the most unlikely of friends. Justin was a bit worse off than him in the family department, sort of. But Bryce Walker? Sometimes he wondered if not for the team what was the thread that held them together.

"Fucking Bryce." Justin muttered as Monty cut the engine. The silence without the music was sudden and deafening. "Of course he's out of town with his dad on vacation."

"Probably getting laid." Monty added, laughing. Justin laughed too. Justin Foley was like...allergic to being alone. The fuckin' guy had kicked puppy written all over his face, always needing a lap to curl up in...and in the absence of that there was always a powder or a needle to get him through til the next adoption. But he was such a drag and a honest to god pain in the ass on the field when he was in withdrawal or detoxing. So. Monty was here to pick up the pieces before it jeopardized the team. And he didn't mind. It was better than being at home...

He pulled the keys out and stepped out. The California summer air meant he didn't need the doors or the top on the Jeep and he enjoyed the freedom. Justin matched his footsteps as they silently walked on to the rocky beach. His trademarked puppy dog eyes were mournfully eyeing the skyline where it met the ocean. Monty casually reached down and picked up a rock, watching it skip across the waves when he tossed it. Justin stuffed his hands in the pockets of his varsity jacket.

"Sometimes I wonder why he even fuckin' bothers with a couple of fuck ups like us." He muttered, casting his eyes down.

So that's what we're gonna do, Monty thought, we're gonna mope... fuck that.

"Now Justy, imagine how fucking boring his life would be without us. Just an endless string of bitches to rail and expensive scotch." He skipped another rock and glanced over, leaned in and gently knocked his shoulder into Justin's, knocking the other boy off balance. Justin laughed and locked eyes with Monty for a moment.

"I guess you're right about that yeah." he laughed. It was a small, unsure laugh at first but Monty saw the sorrow break a bit in his eyes. He was good at noticing these subtle things, noticing things was often what saved his ass. If you knew to watch when someone's eyes changed, or the way their muscles tensed and moved you could easily predict what they were going to do. Quite often this was what was between him and a clenched fist to his face.

Monty and Justin had similarities, Monty could admit that, but where Justin pulled inward and consumed himself, brought himself down, Monty hardened and clenched his fist right back at the world.

If he was honest, he thought Foley was weak. But that's what brothers are for, they protect each other. The strong look out for the weak, especially in their weakest moments.

"I mean, who are we kidding," Justin said, "He's going to go off to like Stanford or Princeton or something..." He leaned down and picked up a rock, running his fingers over the smooth, cold surface.

"You couldn't pay me to go to one of those stuffy ass places anyway." Monty countered, kicking at some of the rocks by his feet, scuffing a small trench into the sand beneath. "I get sick just thinking about it."

"Yeah." Justin agreed, "I just... all these fuckin' rich kids..."

"Yeah. And their tight pants and cardigans." Monty snorted, watching Justin's face break into another smile.

"Fucking cardigan's. Like a fucking grandpa."

"I'm not going to live long enough to get old, so I can't relate." Monty said loudly, almost like forced bravado. He liked being obnoxious, to smile out of spite.

"Yeah," Justin laughed, "You're gonna die in prison with a fuckin' shiv between your ribs."

Monty laughed, watching Justin release his rock with a flick of his wrist. It skipped once over the glassy surface before falling into its inky black depths. 

"And you're gonna die with a fuckin' needle in your arm...or-" His face cracked into a grin.

"Maybe you'll get the fuckin hiv."

Justin laughed loudly and gave Monty a shove.

"It's H-I-V,  dumbass."

"Yeah, but hiv rhymes with shiv. We'll both get ivved." He crowed proudly, shoving Justin back lightly with both his hands. Justin took a half-hearted swing at him, but he dodged it easily and picked up a piece of driftwood as he ran by, swinging around and walloping the other boy in the ass. Justin's legs buckled and he took a few steps, laughing and chucking  handful of small rocks at him. They pinged over his broad chest like hail on a shitty day.

"Fuck you, Monty!"

"Ohh wouldn't you like to though, Justy." Monty countered, turning around and dropping his pants off his cheeks. He bent over and smacked his own ass, "I'm waiting!" He laughed, his face breaking into a slightly demented grin. He felt the stinging welt of a stick being whipped across his bare skin and jumped, yanking his pants back up. He yelped, turning around, the grin not leaving his face.

"Fuck no, you'd like it too much. Perv." Justin pointed the stick at him. Monty picked up the stick he had dropped before and aimed for Justin's thigh, but Justin blocked it and whacked Monty again, this time in his side. They continued to chase, smack, and poke at each other, delighting in the mutual torment.

"Fuck you're relentless." Justin declared in defeat, dropping his stick with a laugh and holding his hands up with surrender. He was panting, his pasty skin clammy in the moonlight.

"It's one of my more endearing qualities." Monty said with a devilish grin as he bowed. "That and my abs."

"Fuck your 'roid ass abs." Justin half wheezed. "Think Bryce will read our obituaries from his penthouse drinking his fucking scotch?"

"Nah man," Monty laughed with a shake of his head, "They don't write obituaries for shitheads like us."

Monty was yanked out of his drifting memories when another man sat across from him with a thump that rattled the table. The boy stared at the man for a moment, one triangular quarter of his shitty dry sandwich poised in his hand as he was about to take a bite. He bit down and chewed, watching the intruder with feigned disinterest. He was good at this. Putting on a front.

Until he couldn't anymore, that is. Until the mask slipped and revealed the scared, desperate pile of shit inside.

The man was at least six feet tall, three-and-some hundred pounds, white as mayonnaise with a big ol' swastika on his bicep. He had an earring in one ear and some scars down his face, chest, and arms. Scratches. Wounds made from desperate, terrified women in self defense. He was bald as a gummy walnut, his scalp weirdly wrinkled and beginning to be dotted with age spots. He was at least mid-fifties, Monty figured. Total skinhead. Asshole. Word of mouth said his rap sheet was a few miles long, most recently connected to a decent string of raped and murdered girls and women. Almost all of them were involved in the sex trade, women or girls of colour. He was a truck driver who used his profession as a tool to evade the police, making it hard to pin him down because he changed locations across different jurisdictions. The varied age and ethnicities of his victims didn't help the police either. Some were as young as 12 years old, and others as old as mid 40's. He, too, was awaiting sentencing. Obviously whatever happened, he'd end up in a maximum state prison.

Couldn't fit the stereotype more if he tried, Monty thought, disgusted.

That's the shit end of the stick awaiting sentencing in a county jail. You get petty crooks like Tim Pozzy who likely won't even get real time, and then assholes like this behemoth pile of trash.

Monty chewed his food, watching silently as the neonazi asshole reached across the table and took his pudding. His fingers were fat, like pale bloated sausages. He opened it, maintaining eye contact with Monty. His eyes were an icy blue, and they seemed devoid of anything. They say the eyes are the window to the soul... and there was nothing there. It sent a shiver down the 18 year old's spine and made the hair on the back of his neck tickle. He smiled, showing that he was clearly in desperate need of dental care. He didn't have many teeth left, and the ones that remained were brownish-greyish nubs of rot. Monty thanked whatever god or demon that might be listening that he couldn't smell this guy's breath. It just looked like it would inevitably stink. The whole time he felt the old familiar build up, the inevitable time bomb tick, tick, ticking through his veins. His blood sounded like thunder in his ears.

How is it that I fuck with Ty-ty, just some fucking hazing, not a big deal...and I get labelled a pedophile and a rapist - a fucking rapist for fuck's sake - and this guy...this guy basically runs this place...

It's not like he wanted to fuck Tyler. That's disgusting. He wanted to hurt him, and he could admit that was wrong. Sure. But the little creep had ruined his life, and for that he had to pay. It was simple.

This asshole, though, was the real pedophile. The only difference was Monty had the audacity to target a white male, the untouchable. And this guy stuck to the easily forgotten targets.

He stuck out a surprisingly short, wide, tongue that looked like it was covered in herpes lesions and licked the foiled plastic lid of the pudding. Monty felt it come alive inside of him, blinding and electric. White hot rage boiled through his veins, exploding in his head and lighting every muscle in his body so that he had to move or it would consume him. He couldn't have stopped himself if he had wanted to try, and he didn't bother with the wasted effort.

In a swift, smooth motion he grabbed his lunch tray with his free hand and backhanded the other man up the jaw with it and stood. Before the asshole had time to react, he used his other hand to grip the top of his head - ham sandwich and all, and slam his face into the concrete table and the pudding. Blood and pudding spurted in all directions like a moneyshot of rage jizz and he felt relief hearing the echoing crack of the larger man's skull. He didn't even have time to bask in the afterglow of his violence before he felt the familiar thud of knuckles to the bottom left of his jaw, the blow eliciting a sickening pop and sending him reeling out of control. He stumbled, losing his balance as vision went static like a television without a connection. He tasted the all too familiar coppery flavour of blood filling his mouth. He spat and staggered and threw a blind fist out, feeling it connect to something, but what he wasn't sure. The immediate agony and crack told him it was in fact the fucking table and he probably broke some fingers. That's when he took a second, devastating blow to his head and everything went black.

[purpletigertaetae]

The Transfiguration Tutor

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 4307 words

Genre: Hogwarts AU, Slice of Life (as “life” as you can get in an AU) Fluff

Rating: PG

Warnings: None, I mean there's a lot of fluff, but not really any warnings

Notes: Okay, I’ve jumped out of my comfort zone SO MUCH with this fic (and this header that I made in like 0.2 seconds because I’m dumb and couldn't find anything I liked) Like I already don’t fluff well (If we’re being honest I don’t write anything well 😂), but this added Potterverse into the mix, which just GAH. This was actually supposed to be a oneshot for Namjoon’s birthday, but I’m so late I can't even use that excuse anymore. I’m so nervous typing this... But Enjoy! I hope you all like it! Also PLEASE GO CHECK OUT @thebluesyren‘s Moodboard! It’s what helped inspire this!

You stared curiously at the Ravenclaw prefect sitting in the library. His silvery hair parted carefully on the side, his thick rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and his thick lips twisted into a wry smile as he poured over his Charms textbook while twirling his quill over and over in his hand. You had been trying to work on your Potions essay until you saw Namjoon enter the library. You had carefully watched his every move while he gracefully maneuvered across the haphazard chairs and desks to find an empty corner. You watched as he approached the empty desk only to trip over his own two feet. He had smacked his hand on the desk to steady himself but had slipped some more, let out a stream of curses, and then he was lying on the floor his books around him; the ruckus causing everyone around him to giggle.

“Shh!” Madame Pince huffed from her desk, irritated by the noise.

Namjoon had stood up, brushed and smoothed his robes, sent a dimpled smile towards Madame Pince, and gathered his books to sit back down.

That was an hour ago. You had given up on your homework completely, doodling on extra parchment while staring at the clumsy genius. Slughorn would have to wait.

So, this was the boy who was supposed to tutor you in Transfiguration. Your grades, while stellar in every other class, were slipping in McGonagall’s class and she had worried you would not pass your final exams this year. She had told you to seek out a Kim Namjoon, well rather she had gushed over a Kim Namjoon and had told you to ask him for help.

“Kim Namjoon has the highest grades of this year. He will go far. You on the other hand, Miss Y/L/N, will need to improve drastically if you wish to continue on your path as a healer. You will need tutoring in transfiguration. And my recommendation is, you should ask Mr. Kim for help.” From McGonagall, that was high praise, and cause to worry on your end. You had decided that today would be the day you would talk to Namjoon, but you had been in the library for two hours, he for one, and still you were afraid to approach the handsome boy you were slowly getting softer for.

---

Three hours later and you literally had finished every essay due for the upcoming week except transfiguration. Namjoon, however, still seemed stuck on Charms. You looked at his face, forehead wrinkled in confusion, and decided that maybe you could strike up a deal.

You packed all your things and made your way over to his table.

“Namjoon right?” The boy looked up at you, confusion evident over his face. “Hi, I’m Y/N? Professor McGonagall told me to find you for some transfiguration help?”

His striking features smoothed out and a dimpled smile graced his face. “Hi Y/n. Yeah, McGonagall had talked to me, but uh, now isn’t a great time. I’m still struggling with the Charms homework.”

“Oh, is this the cheering charms essay? Here, let me see if I can help you!” You slid into the seat next to him, dropping your bag and books onto the table, while peering over his shoulder.

You carefully pointed out all of the information he had gotten wrong and explained the theory to him. Namjoon just watched you, eyeing you as you spoke, pointing to different passages in the textbook; your striking features looked lovely in the candlelight. Your eyes sparkled as you explained a particular passage to him. Your lips looked soft, and he caught himself wondering if that was true. Was he maybe falling for the intelligent woman sitting next to him?

“Earth to Namjoon? Namjoon? Namjoon!” He snapped out of his daydreams and looked at you, “Yes?”

“Did you get anything I told you?”

“Uhhh,” He scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and sighed, “Namjoon, you’re going to have to pay more attention! Now focus!”

“Wait, y/n,” he placed his hand on your forearm, stopping your writing, “Why don’t we become study buddies?”

“What?”

“Well, think about it. You need help for Transfiguration and I definitely need help with Charms. How about we help each other?” Namjoon leaned back against his chair and looked you dead on, a small smile playing on his face.

You examined the boy in front of you and then the empty parchment that was meant for the transfiguration essay you hadn’t even started. You definitely needed help, and you wanted a way to repay him. Helping him with Charms would be the ideal way, and maybe you could even become closer friends.

“It’s a deal.” You thrusted your arm out and shook to seal the deal.

Namjoon sat up and grabbed his quill again, rifling through the textbook to find where he last left off.

“Great! Can we finish Charms first and then go onto Transfiguration? I haven’t started Transfig yet so we can work together!” Namjoon started rambling, but you cut him off swiftly.  

“That’s fine, but I’m warning you. If we’re stuck here all night, you owe me a butterbeer!”

Namjoon looked at you and grinned, “Deal. So, I understand the incantation for the cheering charm, but I definitely am confused on the theory and execution.”

You sighed deeply and then dove in. This was going to be a long night.

---

Four hours later and finally you both closed your books and leaned back in your chairs, resting your eyes.

With your eyes still closed you asked, “What is the effect when the Cheering Charm is too strong?”

Namjoon replied huskily, “Fits of hysterical laughter. What is the incantation to conjure a flock of yellow birds?”

“Avis, and a gunshot sound and smoke are aftereffects of the spell.”

“By Merlin, I think she’s got it!” Namjoon cracked open an eye and sent a genuine dimpled smile your way.

“Well, I’ve got the theory down for sure, but I’m going to need help with execution-”

“Now? Y/N… I’m tired!”

“No, not now. I’m wiped, but tomorrow? After dinner? We can find an empty classroom.”

“That sounds like a plan!”

You sat up and started packing up your bag, Namjoon copying your actions.

You both left the library, some of the last ones to leave, said goodbye to Madame Pince and started strolling back to the Ravenclaw tower in a comfortable silence.

As you climbed the stairs, Namjoon broke the silence.

“Y/n, you excel in all your other classes, why do you struggle in Transfig? Not that I’m judging or anything! I’m just curious.” He began scrambling in fear of having offended you.

You laughed at his expression, and then spoke, “I don’t know, to be honest. Defense, Herbology, Charms all came easy to me. Transfiguration doesn’t. It requires a type of concentration I just don’t have.”

Namjoon looked at you thoughtfully.

“I can understand that. Charms requires a sense of certainty, a sense of grace that I definitely have not acquired,” he spoke as he tripped over his own two feet.

“See what I mean!”

You chuckled as you approached the Common Room entrance. You slipped in and noticed that it was basically empty, just three students snoozing near the fire.

You both climbed the stairs and then stopped right before you were to go separate ways.

“Good night Y/N. Thank you for helping me.”

“Ditto, good night… Joon.”

Namjoon turned to make his way to his room, cheeks bright red. You had called him Joon. Only close friends had called him Joon. He looked over his shoulder at your retreating figure and mused. That name coming from you had sounded so sweet. He really wanted to hear it again.

You turned and walked to your room blushing hard. Joon? Where had that come from? The boy was endearing, and you definitely were soft for him, but this was uncharted territory. Though… he was a gentleman and one you really wanted to get to know better. Who knew, maybe this would be the start of a beautiful friendship. You shook your head and got ready for bed. This would be a thought for another time.

--

Namjoon and you continued your joint tutoring together for the next couple of months. You saw each other so often that a friendship began to blossom. You would talk late into the night, discussing your aspirations as a healer and his aspirations to become part of the Ministry. Most of the time you even joined him for his rounds; his partner always “forgot” though you both knew she was always with her boyfriend. Your blood boiled but Joon would always shrug it off with a smile, “it’s nothing I can’t do Y/Nie, though you’re welcome to join me.” You two would roam the castle, ending up in the astronomy tower and gazing at the stars before walking back to your dormitories. Rumors began swirling about the two Ravenclaws in love, but you both remained oblivious and ignorant. People could think however they wanted.

As you both approached your final exams, you began spending even more time together; his friends became yours and your friends became his, until one large group sat together for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was a mixed group; his friends were spread into all the houses: two in Gryffindor, two in Hufflepuff and two in Slytherin. But they all got along, and they definitely were a band of brothers that soon became your closest friends.

The last Hogsmeade trip, was right around the corner, right after exams. Namjoon had wanted to go with you for the longest time, but every time he would chicken out and everyone ended up going as a big friend group. This time though, he was adamant to spend some time with you. He caught up with you as you walked back from the Herbology greenhouses to lunch.

“Hey Y/nie!”

“Hey Joon! What’s up?”

“I have to run, but will you come on rounds with me tonight? I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure!” With your confirmation, he ran off, leaving you confused. What did he want to ask? You worried that maybe he was doing well in Charms and didn’t need your help anymore. You worried in your classes, when he sat next to you but wouldn’t talk to you; you worried at dinner, where he was noticeably absent; you worried up until you met him in the common room for rounds. He ushered you out and into the corridor and you both began walking. Usually the silence between you two was comfortable as you walked, but today it was suffocatingly uncomfortable until you burst out.

“Kim Namjoon if you don’t ask me what you’ve been wanting to ask me soon, I will kill you!”

“Y/n just be patient. I’ll ask you soon.”

“Do you not want to help me anymore? Do you not need my help anymore? Do you not want to study together anymore? Do you not want to be friends anymore? What is it?! Please! Let’s just work together until our exams are over and then I promise I’ll be out of your hair! Can you just tell me what you wanted to ask?!” Your voice grew more and more agitated as you continued on and on until you ran out of breath. Namjoon beside you just remained quiet with a small smile on his face.

God, you were so cute when you were angry.

He waited patiently until you finished your tirade, walking and observing quietly. When you quieted down, he spoke.

“Are you finished? Calm down Y/Nie, I still want to help you with Transfig, and I definitely still need your help in Charms. I don’t intend to fail my exams and I don’t intend for you to fail yours. We’re still friends! And… oh look we’re at the Astronomy Tower! Let’s quickly take a look and then we can continue this conversation.”

You stared at him dumbfounded as he ran forward. He was about ask you something. Why on earth did he stop? Ugh, he was infuriating sometimes.

You marched up the stairs behind him ready to chew him out until you saw him looking out on the balcony. When you laid your eyes on him, your eyes widened and you audibly gasped. He looked ethereal. The moonlight made him glow, bouncing off of his skin as he stared into the sky. The stars were mirrored in his eyes and his hair shone like silver; he really was stunning. He turned back to you and beckoned you forward with his hand, patting the railing next to him. You walked up to him and looked up at the night sky and whispered, “Beautiful.”

You could’ve sworn he said, “you too.” But when you turned to him, he was still looking up, admiring the sky. For what seemed like eternity, you both were silent, admiring the swirling stars twinkling merrily.

Every now and then you would glance over to him, wanting to break the silence, but his beauty would take your breath away again and you would look back up, not wanting to ruin the moment. Finally, you lost patience and broke the hushed silence to whisper, “Joon, what did you want to ask me?”

He looked down at you. His expression filled with something you hadn’t seen before. Was it love? Unbeknownst to you, you were mirroring the expression back at him. His tongue flitted out, wetting his lips, and your eyes flickered down to the movement, admiring the curve of his lips. Your eyes flicked back to his, as he cleared his throat, and his eyes flitted down to your lips as he leaned forward slightly. You tried to say something, but your breath got caught in your throat as you looked up at him. You hoped for something, anything to break this spell, but in this moment, you wanted to test the softness of his lips with yours. You wanted to feel his hands resting on your hips, not on the railing. You wanted him to bare his soul to you and you wanted to bare your soul to him. Maybe, just maybe you were falling in love with him, your moonchild. He opened his mouth to speak and suddenly you were afraid of what he might say. Your stomach filled with butterflies as this handsome man began to speak.

“Y/N, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me after exams. You know I really need to buy some new robes and I could use a friend’s eye.”

Your heart, which had been somewhere in your throat, instantly sank like a rock. He what? He made it very clear in that moment that he considered you just a friend. All of this, baring your soul, the environment, the moon, the stars, the whole thing you had made up. He was just admiring the stars like he always did, and your imagination was running wild again. You tried to rearrange your face into a friendly expression, trying not to betray the heartbroken mess you felt inside. “Sure! I’d love to help you!” Your voice caught in your throat, but you shoved your feelings away and cleared it a couple of times, swallowing the lump thickly.

“Joon, it’s late, I’m tired, I think I’m going to head back. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You turned and left, trying to keep your tears at bay until you found your bed.

Namjoon, on the other hand, couldn’t stop cursing himself. The timing was perfect, the atmosphere was perfect! He could’ve kissed you and everything would have been perfect! But his bloody brain spoke again. He chickened out! He mentally slapped himself. He would have to do better. God, he had wanted to kiss you, you had looked like an angel in the moonlight. He mentally cursed again. He should’ve just stopped at asking you to Hogsmeade after exams. What possessed him to say friend? He clutched at his hair in despair and looked back up at the sky one last time. The stars still glinted, and Namjoon knew that this had been the perfect moment. Argh, stupid brain, stupid mouth, stupid Joon. He turned away from the balcony and trudged back to the common room, feeling sorry for himself. He needed to figure out a way to see this through properly. You and he belonged together, that he was sure about. He just needed to grow some courage and ask you out.

--

After that night, the entire group knew something was wrong. On the surface, you and Namjoon still studied together, still hung out together, but the dynamic had changed. It was as if you both were toeing on eggshells around each other. However, final exams were fast approaching and the time to think about relationships was gone. Everyone had decided to grace the library with their presence and the careful silence was broken too often. You and Namjoon were always left searching for an empty classroom to study both theory and practical applications. Your first exam was Transfiguration and Namjoon’s first exam was Charms. Needless to say, both of your nerves had been shot. You both had attempted to stay up late the night before, hoping to cram, but by eleven, you knew that you needed sleep. Namjoon and you had called it a night and decided to try to get some rest for tomorrow.

You tossed and turned in bed that night, unable to calm your racing nerves. If you failed this exam, you were done. If you got anything lower than an Exceeds Expectations, you could kiss your Healer dreams goodbye. Plus, there was the issue of Namjoon. You definitely did not want to let him down. He had spent countless hours tutoring you, becoming your friend, and maybe more. How would you face him if you failed? You turned over and watched the clock on your bedside table tick over and over, the repetition providing relief to your otherwise churning thoughts. Watching the clock, you finally fell into a fitful sleep.

The next morning you were up at the crack of dawn. You dressed quickly and found your way down to your favorite abandoned classroom. That’s where Namjoon found you over an hour later pacing back and forth, mumbling transfiguration incantations to yourself under your breath.

“Y/N!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and peered into your eyes.

You were jolted out of your fervor, “Namjoon? What are you doing here?”

“Hobi told me you were here working yourself up! Y/N I need you to stop worrying!”

“Stop worrying? How do I do that? This is the Transfig final! If I don’t pass this, I’m done! There goes everything, my healer dream, all that we’ve worked for! I’ll have wasted your time too! I just…” You rambled on and on without even a breath. Watching you, Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Baby, hey no! No!” He pulled you into his chest into a tight hug and kissed the top of your head. Somewhere within you, butterflies erupted again. He was holding you awfully close.

“Y/nie, you are brilliant, you know this material and I know you’re going to ace this exam. You hear me?” You snuggled into his chest further, nodding tentatively at his words. He rubbed your back comfortingly and peppered your crown with kisses. “You are my intelligent, gorgeous, brilliant girl and I know you will achieve all your dreams.” Namjoon softly spoke sweet nothings into your head while you calmed down from your impending panic attack in his arms.

Something, though, niggled in the back of your mind. Did he… did he call you his girl? What did that mean? You wanted to dissect his words further, but the great clock chimed 8:00 and you knew you had to assemble for your exam. You tensed at the gong, pulled away from Namjoon, smoothed your hair and patted down your clothes with shaky hands trying to calm your nerves.

“Y/N you are going to do great, you hear me?”

“Thank you Joon. Good luck to you too.”

Namjoon caught your hand in his and you both walked, in silence, to the Great Hall where you were then separated. Namjoon would take his Charms theory and practical exam first while you would take your Transfiguration theory and practical exam. You two would meet up again at lunch.

As you entered the side room, your eye caught Namjoon’s one last time. He shot you a thumbs up, which filled you with hope and you gave him a silly grin back. At the silly exchange your heart lifted and you, for the first time, felt confidence lightly flutter through you. You might just pass this exam.

Once you were seated and the exam had been passed out, you took a deep breath and flipped over the paper. Question 1: What is the incantation to conjure a small flock of yellow birds? Please state and describe the aftereffects. You grinned, remembering back to your first meeting with Namjoon and began furiously writing.

-

You came away from the theory exam feeling pretty good, albeit a little confused. Every question you had answered you could remember Namjoon’s deep voice patiently explaining and reexplaining. For some, you could even see Namjoon’s face in your head smiling that dimpled smile at you, his loud laugh when you cracked a joke. Namjoon had permeated this exam for you and his personality had maybe gifted you with the correct answers.

When your test group regathered, it was time for the practical exam. There were 15 booths set up, each with their own examination proctor. The proctor would ask questions and you would have to execute the spell. When you entered your booth, you were faced with a wizened old woman who introduced herself as your  examiner.

“Hello Miss Y/L/N, I will be your proctor for today. My name is Professor Caldwell. Are you ready?” You nodded, gulping nervously. “Then, let us begin. First, can you conjure this cup into a small dragon?”

You let out a small laugh, remembering how you had learned the spell in the first place. Namjoon had dragged a chest in to the classroom thinking that the bigger the object the easier it would be for you to conjure. However, you had ended up chasing a relatively large dragon around the classroom while Namjoon tried and failed to put out the fire on his robes. Shaking your head, you cast the spell, “Draconifors!” and the quill began to change. Smiling, the proctor looked at you and continued on. You attempted spell after spell, only stumbling once or twice until Professor Caldwell placed her test papers next to her and stood up to shake your hand warmly. “Congratulations, Miss Y/L/N, you have completed the test.” You looked into her warm brown eyes, edges wrinkled with smile lines, and hesitated.

“Miss Y/L/N? Do you have any questions for me?”

“I- uh, Yes, I do. But I am not sure you can answer.”

“Go ahead, and I will make that judgement myself.”

“How-,” Your voice came out squeaky with nerves. You cleared it and started again. “How did I do? Did I pass?”

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, I’m technically not supposed to answer that, but on my end, you’ve definitely passed. Barring your theory score, I’d give you an Outstanding for the spell work you have shown me today. Congratulations!”

At her words, your heart soared, and the widest grin spread across your face. You shook her hand tightly, thanking her profusely and raced out into the Entrance Hall, looking for Namjoon.

As you pushed past the throng of people, you both locked eyes and before you knew it, you were sprinting to him. People around you parted as you rushed up to him breathlessly. Instinctively, his arms opened, and you threw yourself into them, jumping up to hug him. You placed both hands around his broad, his wide smile calming your racing heart, as his arms came around you and caught your thighs, holding you up while you wrapped your legs around him in a bear hug. He laughingly set you down after hugging, “So I’m guessing that the exam went well? Mine went really well!”

“It went amazingly well.” You grabbed both his hands and looked up into his eyes, happiness overflowing your being. He started to pull away, but you stopped him. “Wait, one second,” He looked at you confused, and you giggled, “There’s something I want to try.”

With that you leaned up on the tips of your toes and pressed a featherlight kiss to Namjoon’s soft lips. As you left his lips, you whispered, “Thank you. For everything.” You turned to leave, but Namjoon tugged your arm back into his embrace, and pushed his lips back on yours. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding and wrapped your arms around his neck while his hands slid around your waist as he deepened the kiss, throwing all his emotions into it. Your soft lips melded together, as if finally meeting. After what seemed like an eternity, you two separated and leaned your heads against each other, caught in your own little bubble, until…

“Finally!” Yoongi and the rest of your group let out cheers and then the entire Entrance Hall was clapping. Joon and you turned bright red, and you hid your head in his chest, embarrassed by the attention. Namjoon let out his barking laugh and kissed the top of your head. “Jagi, I need to ask you something, and this time I refuse to mess it up. Go to Hogsmeade with me?” You nodded enthusiastically, still smiling widely and Joon caught your hand tightly and brought you in for another kiss. Turns out finding a tutor for Transfiguration really did help you.

A/N: ITS SO LONG, I’M STILL NERVOUS ABOUT THAT. God, I gotta get better at writing. Lemme know what you think. And Back and Forth isn’t done, I’m just lazy about updating. I promise I will update that soon!

[marybeatriceofmodena]

Long time no see, hey? 

Anyway. I didn’t have much time to post here and shit due to real life being a bitch, etc. but one thing I’m intent to do is post my thoughts about The Rise of Skywalker - because yes, I had people asking me about it. 

So, I’m more active on Twitter these days (you can find me @ irinadefrance), and there’s also my Dreamwidth account cosette_giry to which I REALLY don’t post often but I do intend to write more, especially once I graduate in April. I will also try to get a regular schedule for my Old Hollywood sideblog ( @laurenbacallls ) so there’s that too. I honestly need new blogs to follow on Tumblr since a lot of people migrated to Twitter, but I don’t have time to go search for new blogs. :P I also have a Pillowfort account, but I haven’t had time to really set it up yet. 

Rambling put aside, we need to talk about TROS. 

I’ll be honest: my expectations are rock-bottom for the film. Now, don’t panic, I could be wrong for all I know, I’m not gonna tell anyone to manage their expectations (and please do not send me panicked asks in my inbox, for the love of God, the amount of sleep I got this week (read here: next to none thanks to finals) is not allowing me to have the patience for that). 

Just so we’re clear, I don’t believe in JediPaxis’ leaks (whatever he got “”right”” probably comes from trailer footage/merch and no I’m not going to argue with anyone on that, as I said, no patience right now). Ben living and Reylo happening one way or another have “FOREGONE CONCLUSION” written in big neon letters above them, because if you want a solid explanation as to why, the American way, it’s because they’re the money makers and Lucasfilm will want to keep them, because ultimately, it’s about the money. 

So, my “worries”, if you can call them that, lay with other issues entirely. You may have some inklings of why if you read my TLJ ramblings. Overall, I liked the film, but whether I love it or whether I’ll change my mind completely about it will depend on how TROS works out. If I like TROS, we’re all good. If not... 

... well, I might say some things about the Sequel Trilogy some people will not like. I will do my very best to keep it constructive, have it be solely on a literary/critical basis, not make any personal attacks to real people involved - basically I won’t go on Fa/n/dom Men/a//ce mode. 

For instance, if we get the Beautiful Friendship Gang without a single hint of irony or tension - this may come as a surprise to Tumblr people but people who know me on Twitter will kind of know how I feel about the Non-Existent Trio - there’s a chance I may say things about the Resistance, how it’s written, especially in contrast to the Rebellion, how the characters are written, etc. People who think the Resistance is the best thing since sliced bread will probably not like what I’ll say. 

So of course, if I dislike TROS and go against the majority of the Reylo fandom or whoever by thinking that, don’t yell at me. Just unfollow. 

I’m saying this because I know some people feel very passionately about this, which I understand, especially with all the harrassment that happened. What I’ll say is not a personal attack on you. Seriously, if the film brings you happiness, I wish you all the best. I mean it. Just ignore the old crank right here. :P 

So see you all on the other side, and hopefully, it’ll be good. Otherwise, after ranting, I’ll probably come up with some good spite fic. 

[ravenvsfox]

Hi I love your band au fic! I was wondering if or when you were gonna write the next chapter :3

(thank you so much honey, here’s chapter four!!)

Their first show goes badly. 

They don’t practice for long enough, just two weeks of lyric reworking and transposition, Neil trying to bring his technique back from the dead, Kevin spitting and tearing his hair out.

They find themselves onstage like a machine with five separate motors and all the bolts loose. Andrew watches the way Neil’s shoulders turn into water when the stage lights hit him, the seam of dark hair that splits his scalp becoming a winding red river. 

It's the stupidest thing, how he looks copy and pasted out of history, a magazine rocker back from when that meant something dangerous.

Kevin plays over top of Neil’s vocals. Bouncy bass lines that spit like oil in a pan, so out of place that Aaron stops playing, confused. Neil sings louder and his voice strains and pulls apart so you can see the tendons in it.

The audience screams and whispers, they're not sure if Neil is here to stay, they don't know what it would mean if he did. Do I stop buying their albums? They murmur. Is this them selling out? Mainstream, pretty vocalist on top of their band like a wedding cake topper?

And then closer to the stage, tuned in, pupils swollen, Neil’s voice speaks to some of them like an open fire, turns their faces red, opens them up.

Andrew watches them with a kind of gratification, though he's not sure if he’s thinking of the band’s success or the way he feels the same draw as them, warming his hands on something as nuclear as Neil.

They slice the end off of their set. They can’t get their sound all the way together, even when the 50 fans they'd really reached shout for an encore. The rest of the venue leaves in ecstasies of conversation: who is he? Who is he? Who is he?

Or maybe that's the sound of Andrew’s furious thoughts, drowning it all out.

Or maybe it’s the mushrooms he took before the show. It’s the kind of high that pries everything apart and make him feel like he wouldn’t be able to hide even if all the lights were off, even if he had a hand clapped over his mouth.

Neil spins and starts to gather his microphone cord, preoccupied. Kevin puts his bass down carefully in its stand and shoots whiskey out of the bottle. He always makes the same face after, like it only hurts narrowly less than it helps.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks.

“Yeah, what was it?” Neil returns, like he was waiting for it. The house lights are on now, and all the sweat that made him look waxy and feverish as if by candlelight is now dark on his t-shirt and slick as grease in his hair. “You forget what dynamics are supposed to sound like?”

“I was trying to compensate for your horrifying lack of skill and professionalism,” Kevin says.

“Oh yeah? So you thought you’d play badly enough to drown me out? Interesting tactic.”

Kevin steps closer and Nicky stands in between them, guitar jutting out like a gate. “Kev,” he says lowly. “We're still getting it together. No one thought our first show was going to be groundbreaking.”

“Then why did we bother having it?” he snaps.

“Practice,” Andrew says. “Like everything else.”

“Yeah, hey, I’ve heard it makes perfect,” Nicky jokes nervously.

“That’s not fair to the audience,” Kevin says. “We can’t be figuring our shit out on the stage they paid money to—“

“Oh, but it was your fault, wasn't it Kevin. Let's be honest,” Andrew says. “You decided Neil was going to fail before we stepped foot on stage, and then you made sure of it.”

Kevin looks gobsmacked, and Andrew hears Aaron muffle a laugh. Neil looks back and forth between them, strung between surprise and suspicion.

“I didn’t—“ Kevin stops, puts a steadying hand on his stool. “I wouldn’t sabotage our set to—what—prove a point?”

“Because you’re above that kind of thing,” Neil says sarcastically. “Except that your playing is always going to come before other people though, right?” He seems to realize halfway through speaking that he respects this quality in Kevin, and his voice softens.

Kevin doesn’t answer, but his eyes are needly. “So you’ve all decided to pin this on me?” He’s looking at Andrew.

“Sure have,” he replies cheerily. “Don’t do it again, hm?”

Kevin swallows and thumbs the tuning pegs on his bass, upset. “I fucking hate you when you’re high.”

“Are we supposed to believe he's the love of your life when he’s sober?” Aaron asks flatly. Kevin’s opens his mouth, teeth bared like he’s going to reply, but instead he shoves a sheaf of notes and music off of his stand and storms offstage. Andrew watches the paper flutter to the floor.

“I didn’t need your protection,” Neil says.

“So you keep saying,” Andrew says, and then he follows Kevin to the bar.

______

Neil comes up when you google him, now.

Wymack released a clipped statement on behalf of Palmetto that Neil is the fifth member of Ausreißer and that yes, they know it's unorthodox to change the line up halfway through a tour, but they’re excited to be working closely together on new music. He runs it by the band before turning it over to the press, and Neil frowns all the way through it.

They do a handful more shows on the east coast where Neil and Kevin don’t look at each other. The audience swells, curious or infatuated with the singer whose voice lays on top of the instrumentation like oil on water.

Neil has a wicked panic attack in the motel bathroom when Nicky shows him his wikipedia page, no picture or credits, just a line of text that links him undeniably to the rest of the monsters. He starts wheezing, then falling, and Andrew squeezes the back of his neck and tells him over and over again to come back to himself and cut it out. 

Nicky stands with his hand over his mouth and tears in his eyes until Neil gasps and breathes deeply.

At a show in New York, Neil starts experimenting, playing with the audience, his presence taking up so much of the stage that the air starts to feel thin and hard to come by. He’s still a little high from the afternoon edibles they took, and his voice is throaty and loose. 

He makes a bad joke about Kevin's tattoo, something about his solos being like labyrinths, and Kevin grins, does an open slide down the fretboard that might as well be a thank you. When music is their primary language, they never fight.

Neil’s all over the stage, twitching with music, eyes closed. Nicky takes his hands off his guitar to spin Neil into his body and then out again, and the momentum sends him over to the drum kit.

He sings into Andrew's microphone, silver tongue, yellow hair long enough to stick to his cheekbones. For a moment, he wants him so completely that it makes his drumsticks tangle, a few beats bunching together like a clot in the rhythm. Neil’s eyes open, right next to him, car crash blue.

Andrew doesn’t look away, and in his head, pieces of lyrics start to hatch, bloody. Inspiration never used to come as easily or painfully as this, like Neil took a screwdriver directly to his brain and pried the words out.

Neil drifts away again, singing about not wanting to be seen, singing about the way staying alive is different from being alive. He always speaks Andrew’s lyrics like they’re just now occurring to him, and it makes him almost jealous.

He spends more time on stage than off. His talent loosens and rolls out like well-worked dough, voice going so relaxed and syrupy that it seems almost involuntary.

Halfway through one of their sets he sits in the middle of the stage, in a snake pit of wires, and sings clunky hard rock like a ballad. The rest of the band and the audience all crane towards him, listening for him like a pulse.

In private, they eat burger king in the van, Aaron dips fries in the zesty sauce that's meant for onion rings, Kevin plucks at a guitar to hone his skill on a broader fretboard, and Nicky squats outside the open driver's side door and tries to beckon a street cat into his lap.

Andrew lights a cigarette and wonders if Neil is aware of how he arches into the smoke like it’s fresh air.

"What are you doing?” Neil asks, leaning over the seat between them to look at Andrew’s open notebook, the cigarette between his fingers instead of a pen.

“Writing.”

Neil looks sceptical. “Lyrics?”

“The great American novel,” Andrew says sarcastically.

“Read it to me,” Neil challenges.

“You are bored,” he says. A side effect of his increasing comfort on stage is a dullness everywhere else.

“I’m trapped constantly in a van with shitty company.”

“Great, this can be your stop, then," Aaron says, waving a fry in Neil’s direction. There's almost no heat though. They all know that it’s too late to cut Neil out without surgical intervention.

“I’m great company,” Nicky says in-between kissy noises. The cat has wandered almost close enough to touch. “And I’m squandered on you.”

“When we get back to Columbia, I’m getting a hotel room,” Neil says.

“With what money?” Aaron mutters under his breath.

“The secret rolls of cash in his socks, probably,” Andrew says. Neil glares.

“Well anyway, you can’t,” Nicky says. “We’re supposed to play nice with the illustrious Foxes while we’re home, and we need to keep tabs on you.”

Neil looks surprised for a fraction of a second, but his expression settles quickly back into annoyance. “Hotels have phones.”

“The house is close to the studio,” Kevin points out. “I don’t give a fuck about what you do with your spare time, but we still have work to do.”

“And dinner. At Abby’s. The whole Palmetto family,” Nicky interjects.

“Is that—“ Neil wrestles with words for a second, coming up with dirty hands and not much else. “Normal?”

“Not really,” Nicky shrugs. “But this isn’t an average label. Wymack basically hand picked all of us. We’re kind of—“

“Don’t say misfits,” Aaron interrupts.

“Misfits,” Nicky finishes, with relish. “But he had the good sense to separate the pop from the rock and roll. We don’t exactly lead compatible lifestyles. I still think we should’ve gotten Renee, though.”

“We don't need two drummers,” Kevin says sourly.

“She plays violin too,” Andrew says. “We could have swapped out a guitar.”

“You’d sell out your own family?” Nicky says, faux hurt. Andrew gives him a blank look.

“We don’t have the right sound for violin,” Neil says. “We’d eat her alive.”

Nicky’s gotten ahold of the cat now, a smudgy grey thing, and it’s grappling up his shoulder with its claws. Andrew watches the way Nicky lets it slice him to pieces just for the feeling of something in his arms. “Yeah right,” he says. “You haven't met her.”

______

He meets her—and everyone else—a week later. Andrew starts drinking at noon just to prepare himself for the spectacle of it, the way Abby’s house will inevitably suck Neil in just like the stage did.

They’re all dishevelled when they stagger up the path to her front door, and the blinds are pulled but Andrew can see the yellow living room light and hear the roll of laughter from inside. His stomach sinks.

Neil picks his way across the grass behind him, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shoulders are up by his ears and his feet drag. Nicky passes a flask down the line and they each take a generous swig. Kevin raps at the door, and it swings inward almost immediately.

It’s Wymack, an over-full tumbler in his hand and sweat peppering his hairline. Andrew’s willing to bet that he was watching for them, on the outskirts of socializing, trying to keep an equilibrium between his Foxes and his Monsters.

“About time,” Wymack says. His gaze finds the flask that ended up with Neil at the back of the line. He rolls his eyes. “You all planning on being civil tonight?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Andrew asks, pushing past both Wymack and Kevin to get to the warmth of the foyer.

“Shoes off,” Abby calls from somewhere in the bustle spilling out of the kitchen.

“The liquor cabinet’s locked,” Wymack leans over to tell him surreptitiously.

“Like that’s ever stopped him,” Aaron scoffs.

“It better,” he warns. He looks at Neil again. “How you doin’, kid?” Neil nods noncommittally. “They pushing you around?”

“Trying,” Nicky says, smiling. “He won’t budge.”

“Good.” He reaches out as if to cuff his shoulder but Neil flinches away.

Andrew feels something in his chest, a sliver of rib or a ventricle wriggle away and dissolve. He pulls Neil away without thinking, just a brisk tug and a release. Wymack’s already looking away, but Nicky’s watching Andrew, mouth quirked.

“Hey,” someone calls. Matt, it turns out, tall and irritatingly affable as always, hair slicked almost vertical. He nods at the group, but beams and holds his hand out to Neil, who separates from Andrew to shake it. “Matt Boyd, guitarist for Foxes. You’re Neil, right?”

“Yeah,” Neil says. “Vocalist.”

“Man, finally,” Matt says. “I really thought they’d never find a guy. But anyone who’s survived the monsters this long has already impressed me.”

Neil shrugs keeping his eyes carefully forward. “They’re interesting.”

“Oof,” Matt says. “That’s one way to put it. No offence Nicky.”

Nicky shrugs. “Nah, I know what we are.”

“You gotta meet the girls,” Matt says, guiding Neil towards the kitchen. “Dan keeps trying to mother you and she hasn’t even met you.”

Neil looks uncomfortable, glancing back towards the band, but they’re all scattering, preoccupied with food and dishes, or talking shop with a reluctant Wymack, in Kevin’s case. Andrew moves silently with Neil, fingers numb from the booze.

The kitchen is loud, buzzing with fluorescents and conversation. Dan’s sitting on the counter, and it’s almost funny, the way her mouth hitches wickedly when she spots Neil, then deflates when she sees Andrew. Matt slips an arm around her waist, and she seems to find an emotional middle ground.

“Neil Josten,” Dan greets. “We’ve been talking about you all month.”

“Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Your choice,” she says, grinning. “I didn’t tell you what we were saying.”

“Hello Neil. Hi Andrew,” Renee says sweetly, waving.

“Renee,” he says. It’s a relief to see her. Her face is even as snow.

“By the way, I’m Dan. Wilds. I dunno if you’ve heard our stuff? I never wanna assume.”

Neil nods. “A little. You’re the lead singer?”

“Also on keys, on a good day. This is Renee Walker—she fuckin’ ruins on drums. Allison Reynolds, our badass bassist. And you met our guitarist,” she says, leaning up to press her smile into Matt’s jaw.

“‘From the Top’ is a good track,” Neil compliments stiffly. Andrew can tell from his awkward, twisting hands that it’s the only title he remembers.

They all cluck and groan, and Renee laughs, “it’s always that song. Really not our best.”

“It blows,” Dan agrees. “They play it at last call when they want to clear the place out.”

“Oh, they’re self aware,” Andrew says, quietly enough that only Neil seems to hear. His mouth twists a little meanly.

“So you sing,” Allison interjects, stepping close enough to toy with Neil’s collar, but he seems unfazed.

“Apparently.”

“In the middle of all that noise?” she asks, looking meaningfully at Andrew.

“I manage,” Neil says wryly.

“She’s just used to being the most grating thing in a room,” Andrew drawls.

Allison looks at him sharply. “So are you sober or what, monster? We going to have to lock up the knives?”

“Only if you’re stupid enough to think that I’m not carrying any.”

“Not stupid,” Dan says tiredly, “hopeful.”

“Naive,” he corrects. He’s feeling a little separate from his body. If Neil weren’t so caught up in this orbit, he’s pretty sure he could rope him into hotboxing the bathroom.

“Seriously Neil, are you juggling all of this okay?” Matt says, forehead creased like some sort of caricature of concern. Andrew was right, of course. They’ve only just met Neil and already they’re preoccupied, worried, slicing off parts of their lives to offer him. “It’s a hell of a thing to jump into all at once.”

“I’m fine,” Neil says. “I’ve jumped into much worse.”

Matt scoffs. “I guess that’s fair enough. Let us know if you need a little stability, okay?”

“I can handle myself,” Neil says, eyes flinty, and Andrew almost believes him. He keeps insisting that he’s on top of things, even when that mask of his is oozing blood and history. “But to be perfectly clear, I wanted to be a part of Ausreißer the second I heard them play, and that hasn’t changed. At all.”

Andrew chews and swallows this. His heart lifts, involuntary, and he has to go through the whole production of catching and strangling it like a bird.

“He’s one of them,” Allison says dramatically. “It’s too late.”

Dan rolls her eyes, but smiles at Neil. “That’s great, Neil. They’re a hell of a band, I won’t fight you on that.”

“For real,” Matt agrees. “If Kevin wasn’t such a raging asshole I would pretty much pay to jam with him. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Doubt he would hear me from inside his own ass,” Neil says.

Matt’s smile brightens. “Love that attitude. Can we borrow him?”

“Good luck keeping hold of him,” Nicky says from behind them. “He’s slippery. Right babe?” He squeezes Neil’s cheeks and gets his hand slapped away.

“But you like ‘em slippery, right Nick?” Allison says.

“Guilty. And I’m not the only one,” he says, and Andrew sends Nicky a warning look just as he glances meaningfully in his direction. Renee looks between them curiously.

“Well,” Matt says. “I’m fucking hungry. Anyone else feel like they haven’t had a home-cooked meal in a hundred years?”

“God, yes,” Dan says. “All they ever give me to eat are salads with half a teaspoon of oil or lemon juice or whatever.”

“Vinaigrette,” Allison corrects.

“Vinai-shit. I need something so greasy that it makes me sweat.”

“Matt’s right there,” Allison says, and Matt flicks her in the neck.

They bicker amongst themselves until Abby ducks her head in to tell them it’s time to eat. “Go ahead and serve yourselves, okay? And there’s, uh, cider in the fridge. No hard stuff until you’ve all eaten.”

“Thanks mom,” Dan jokes.

“Oh, please, I might as well be,” she replies, waving her off.

“Does that make Wymack our dad?” Matt asks slyly, obviously fishing. Abby gives him an unimpressed look and bobs back out of the room without answering.

“Come on monsters, new and old. Lets pretend we can stand each other sober,” Allison says, pushing off the counter.

They filter out, and Andrew hears Nicky say, disbelieving, “you guys are sober?”

Neil lingers in the kitchen, so Andrew leans up against the doorframe and waits.

“You can go,” he says.

“Yes,” Andrew agrees.

Neil’s shoulders sag, and he covers his face with one hand. “I can’t remember the last time I—socialized.” It’s an unexpected piece of honesty, and Andrew purses his lips.

“It shows.”

Neil looks up, disbelieving. “What, do you think you’re the paragon of small talk?” He tilts his head, scrutinizing, and answers himself— “No. Too much like lying, right?”

“Ding ding ding,” Andrew says. “He misses nothing.”

“I can’t usually afford to.”

Andrew stares. Neil looks back, looking a little clammy, a little hyper-focused. “Or what? Something gives you one of those scars?”

“Did something give you scars?” Neil counters, nodding at his arms.

“Mm, no, still not a good enough trade.”

“Then I’m still waiting,” Neil says lowly, “for you to tell me what is.”

Andrew stares at a crack in the ceramic backsplash, feeling Neil’s gaze rove over his face. 

He suffers through it for an entire ten-count, then turns wordlessly into the dining room. Neil follows immediately, before Andrew can catch his breath.

The room is full, the usual healthy dose of tension curdling in the joy that people like Nicky and Renee and Abby can’t seem to help spilling everywhere. Andrew sits at the head of the table, and Kevin settles at his right hand. He nudges out the seat to his left with his foot, and Neil sits in it wordlessly.

Renee bows her head in prayer. Nicky reaches for a ladle full of potatoes and Andrew yanks his hand back until Renee smiles and waves them ahead.

“So Neil,” Abby starts.

“Don’t put him on the spot too badly,” Dan says, licking sauce off of her thumb and reaching for the iced tea. “We’ve done enough of that already.”

Abby raises her hands innocently. “I was just going to ask how long he’s been singing.”

Neil appears pristinely composed, accepting everything that’s passed to him. Every expression moves across his face like it’s designed to look like a certain emotion, one mask in a series. “As long as I can remember,” he says thinly. “When I had the chance.”

“Any professional training?” Her face is mild and pleasant, and it sets Andrew’s teeth on edge.

“He’s an amateur,” Kevin answers for him.

“More of a natural talent,” Nicky says warmly, winking at Neil.

“I see,” Abby says slowly. “How did you… I mean, how did the boys find you, exactly?”

“He was trying to steal from us,” Andrew says. Neil looks at him narrowly.

Matt guffaws. “What could they possibly have had that you wanted?”

Neil shrugs with one shoulder. “Whiskey.”

Matt laughs again. Wymack rolls his eyes. “They conveniently left that part out when they were pitching him to me.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Andrew asks.

“No,” Wymack replies easily. “But I would’ve double checked my locks.”

“I’ve never stolen unless it was absolutely necessary,” Neil says woodenly.

“Right, so with the whiskey you were what? Dehydrated?” Allison says.

“Ease off, Allison,” Dan warns.

“Broke. Homeless,” Neil replies, sipping water, pretending not to notice that he’s the stone causing all the ripples of stress in the room. “But it wasn’t really worth the guitar to the stomach, in the end.”

A wince shudders around the table, and Wymack squints in Andrew’s direction.

“Wasn’t it?” Andrew asks, thinking of the way Neil’s head had eased back when he pinned him to the ground, bright interest in his slitted eyes. “We gave you your stage. You’re halfway to a household name by now.”

He says it because he knows, he can tell, what that visibility is doing to Neil. There’s always a second, before he loses himself onstage, that he scans the crowd for something, and his face is unrecognizable with fear.

Those eyes find him again. “So you want me to thank you for the smashed ribs? Should I be thanking Kevin for the bruised windpipe too?”

“Would you?” Andrew says, faux sweet.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Matt says.

“Thank you,” Neil tells him, eyes dark, almost hollow. “Really. It’s almost like being at home again.”

He stares. There are people in Baltimore who want me dead. That’s what Neil had told him about his home. He’d torn out of the van like it was filling up with water when he woke up in Annapolis.

The look on his face was unforgettable. His panic was like a corpse thrashing with electricity, like someone had tried to animate a dead thing.

He can remember staring at the little brass Spears written in cursive over the mailbox, facing the slate grey front door, never knowing whether he would open it to find a home or a nightmare. He’s since realized that they can be precisely the same thing at precisely the same time, tempting as a hearth until someone holds your hands in the fire.

“Andrew,” Renee says, coaxing his gaze away from Neil, away from the whole smouldering pile of memory and obsession. She’s smiling gently. “Do you want some gravy?”

He nods slowly. Neil’s focus is on his food now, and Dan’s talking earnestly to Wymack. Dinner trundles on.

They bring out dessert before all of the main course is cleared away, and he eats the maraschino cherries first, licking syrup off of his fingers, then dissecting graham crumbs and whipped cream from the filling. He stares down at the creased, recently frozen base, the middle breaking apart without a foundation, the off-white cream.

He splits the crust in half and reassembles the cake as a sandwich. Dan wrinkles her nose at the mess. Neil folds his cherry into his napkin distastefully. Andrew suddenly craves a cigarette more than sugar, and even more than that he needs a way to get his thoughts out.

He stands, and ignores the way everyone lets their conversations go to look up expectantly. He brushes past the table, through the living room, and out the front door. 

The screen clatters behind him, and he lights up immediately, flicking ash at the porch when it withers in the wind. He thinks of Neil guessing, without trying, that small talk is a lie Andrew refuses to take part in. He hates him so viciously that he can feel it showing on his face.

He digs in his back pocket for a notepad and stubby pencil, breathing sour, woody nicotine.

pipe dream, he writes. pipe dream, pipe dream. He rips the sheet out and tears it to soggy pieces with his teeth. Then he writes:

I can always taste

salt and copper when I’m dreaming

took a pipe to my head,

but you’re the one who’s bleeding

breaking crime scene tape

to open the front door

invisible monsters

no one fights anymore

lying like a mouth on fire

we’ll go up in smoke if we get any higher

Salt and copper cocktails

rim the glasses red

better off dying than already dead

drink yourself home, the sting might kill you

pare back your skin, make it grow back new

just because you set my bones, doesn’t mean you own them

it’s never flower bouquets, always fists full of stems

you’ll have to kill me

if you cut me from this ground.

He puts the notepad upside down on the top step and grinds his boot into its spine. Then he paces down the front path and crouches in the grass, and when he puts his cigarette out in the frost, the fresh, cold air makes his chest seize.

He looks down at the ‘no’ tattooed on his hand, and he lets the word blur into a mantra in his head.

“What’s this?”

He wheels around, and finds Nicky leaning over the top step with his squashed book in his hands.

“Put it down,” Andrew says, moving quickly back up the path, watching Nicky’s eyes dart over the page and feeling his legs go rod-straight with anxiety.

“Oh, Andrew—“

“Put it down,” he repeats, “or I put you in the hospital.”

Nicky’s grip sags, and he struggles to stand upright. “You can’t just—are you honestly going to pretend this isn’t about him?”

He doesn’t reply, but he swipes for the book hard enough that he raises a pale line on the back of Nicky’s hand. He throws it to the side, out towards his parked car, and takes Nicky to the front door with a forearm braced at his throat.

“Fuck, Andrew, you can’t be serious,” he struggles to say.

Andrew starts to shake, rage and fear rising in him at once, twin tides.

“You’re writing songs about him?”

“I wrote lyrics for our new vocalist,” Andrew snaps, “because you requested it.”

“Not for him. About him,” Nicky says, a veil of sadness over his whole face. Andrew shakes him. “But Andrew, I don’t think he’s—“

“I don’t care,” he grits.

Nicky looks uneasy. “I think you do.”

“I didn’t ask for an opinion.” He hammers the flat of his wrist into Nicky’s neck, somewhere between a shove and a blow, then lets him go all at once. He sags into the doorframe, apparently more stunned than hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Nicky wheezes, and Andrew knows he’s not talking about the unsolicited advice or invaded privacy.

Neil’s face appears at the hall window, reacting to the noise of a scuffle before anyone else. His expression is difficult to parse, poised like a pen and furrowed like paper.

Andrew climbs down from the porch, gets into his car, and drives away.

[lilaswordsandthings]

That’s What Friends Are For Ch.2

A/N: It looks like this fic is going to end up being longer than I initially thought, and that is ok with me. *If You Like This Fic, Please reblog it/comment. We Fanfic writers need to help each other out. I’m Tagging all the usual suspects 

@illegalcerebral @dontshootmespence @reid-effect @stunudo @ultrarebelheart   

Chapter 2: A Thousand Questions

 A new case came in a few hours after Reid and JJ left for the airport. As Matt, Tara, Alvez, and Rossi filed into the conference room they couldn’t help but notice that two of their teammates were conspicuously missing.

 “Ok, now that everybody’s here, let’s get started,” Emily said.

 “Wait a minute, we’re not all here.” Tara pointed out.

 “Yeah, she’s right.” Matt agreed. “Where are Reid and JJ?”

 “They won’t be joining us. Reid was just notified of the death of an old friend, also the fact that this friend gave birth shortly before her death. It’s a long story and I promise I’ll explain everything to you guys later but right now, we need to get started.”

 “First the fiasco a few years ago, then he was abducted and almost sacrificed by a cult, now this…” Tata said.

 “Yeah… that’s why I sent JJ with him. I didn’t think it was a good idea for him to go alone. That’s said, it’s important that the rest of us hold down the fort while they’re gone, so let’s get started.”

 Sensing that was her cue, Garcia grabbed the remote, stood, and began the briefing.

 “Alright my pretties, this time you’re jetting to Beatty Nevada. It’s a smaller city about two hours northwest of Las Vegas. In the last two weeks, three women, all with dark hair in their early twenties to mid-thirties, were found. They were all stripped naked, bound, strangled, severely beaten, and sexually assaulted. They were all dumped on side streets or in allies, basically lightly traveled public places. It’s still pretty early out there so the latest victim was only found a half hour ago.”

 “And as soon as they were sure she was connected to the others, they called us,” Emily added.

 “Right off the bat, it’s pretty obvious we’re looking for a male offender. Men get off on this kind of violence, women don’t.” Tara said.

 “He could’ve chopped them up and/or buried them, even just dumped them in more isolated areas. It wouldn’t be hard in a city surrounded by desert, but he chose not to. It’s important to him that they’re found quickly, and in as compromising a state as possible. He’s getting off, not just on the violence, but on humiliating these women” Rossi theorized.

 “And once and Unsub like this gets started, it only gets worse. Wheels up in twenty.”

                                                         ***

 Meanwhile, JJ and Reid were in the air, flying to Las Vegas. Reid was sitting by the window, JJ was in the seat to his right. She watched as he stared hopelessly out the window. JJ could only imagine what must be running through his mind.

 “Spence, it’s gonna be ok.” She said.

 “How JJ? How, when we don’t even know how Becca died?” He asked.

 JJ couldn’t think of what to say, so she just looked at him, trying to appear reassuring. Finally, she asked: “How close were the two of you?”

 “We were best friends, she was pretty much the best friend I ever had outside of our team. What I don’t understand is why she never told me she was in trouble you know? The social worker said that based on the letter, Becca knew she was dying, but I talked to her the night before. She seemed fine. She didn’t mention anything about being in trouble, or that she’d just had a baby. I had no idea she was even pregnant. Now all of a sudden, when it’s already too late to help her, she asks me to raise her daughter? None of this makes sense.”

 “Well, I don’t know her, but I do know you. The fact that she chose you to adopt her baby, Spence, mothers, especially mothers of newborns, she’s trusting you with the one thing, the one person she loved more than life itself. She asked you to do this for her, for a reason. So I have to believe that whatever was going on, there’s a reason she didn’t want you to know but it wasn’t that she didn’t trust you.”

 “I just… I need to know what happened, and I need to make sure that nothing happens to Becca’s daughter.” He replied

 Just like that, his mind drifted back to the last time he’d seen her.

 3 years earlier

 When Spencer walked into the dimly lit dining room of Thompson’s Restaurant Grill, it looked empty at first. The sign on the door had said open but there didn’t seem to be anyone there.

 “Hello? Becca?” He called out.

 Suddenly, Becca popped out from beneath the bar. She was wearing a red tank top with a black, sleeveless leather vest over it. Her black hair was cut at shoulder-length and heavily layered, and her blue eyes were framed by thick black eyeliner. She had a glass in one hand, and a dishtowel in the other.

 “Well, if it isn’t one of my favorite people.” She said with a smile. She walked out from behind the bar and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “Where have you been? It’s been forever! We miss you around here…” she told him as she squeezed before letting him go.

 “Becca, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who still lives here who actually misses me.” He replied.

 “Dude, if I’m your only friend, that’s just sad. I don’t say that to insult you, I mean if that’s true, then that just proves what I’ve thought for years, that ninety-five percent of the human race sucks.”

 He chuckled. “You might be right about Las Vegas, but fortunately you’re far from my only friend.”

 “Good. I was about to ask you whose butts I need to kick.” She said as she set the glass down on the counter with a thud. “So what brings you back to town anyway? Your mom?”

 “Yeah, actually I’m in the process of moving her to a different facility. I came down to get the rest of her stuff. I thought I’d come say ‘hi’, before I left town.”

 “Well, I’m glad you did, want something to eat?”

 “Sure.”

 “Let me guess, the usual?”

 “How’d you know that?”

 “Spencer, I’ve known you since I was four. You’ve ordered the exact same meal every single time you’ve come in here for the last twenty years. You, my friend, are a creature of habit if there ever was one. The only variation is whether you want a soda or something with alcohol.”

 “How about water?” He asked.

 “Really? Are you changing things around just to disprove my theory?”

 “…Maybe…”

 She smiled. “Alright, coming right up, do want an orange slice?”

 “Isn’t it usually lemon?”

 “Not here. My house, my rules, and the first rule is…” she paused for dramatic effect, “weirdness is a good thing.”

 He smiled.“Alright then. Yes, put an orange in it.”

 “Way ahead of you.” She replied, filling a tall glass with ice water and getting an orange out of the cooler to her left. Before slicing it she turned to the kitchen door behind her, opened it a crack, and yelled into the kitchen. “Hey Pop, I need a turkey club with fries, extra sauce no cheese.” Then she finished what she was doing and handed Spencer his water.

 “So, how’s everything going?” He asked.

 “Great, I’m teaching graphic design as an adjunct professor at Alta. I only still moonlight here to help Pop out, since Mama can’t.”

 “That’s great!” he exclaimed. “I know you loved it when you were a student there.”

 “I did indeed.” She said. “Don’t think I don’t know the real reason you’re asking Spencer. It’s better now that I have my own place. I’m only here about twenty hours a week, almost all of which is spent down here and not up in our old apartment so, I hardly ever see her these days.”

 “You just told me that things are great, but you just said that like it’s a bad thing.” He pointed out.

 She sighed. “I guess, if I’m honest with myself, I kinda feel guilty about how much happier I am not being here as much.”

                                                    Present Day

 “Spence? You ok?” JJ asked, drawing him back to the present.

 “Y-heah, I’m fine. W-why do you ask?”

 “You’ve been staring into space for the last half hour like you were somewhere else. What were you thinking about?”

 “The last time I saw her. It was when I was moving my mom from Bennington to Houston. I went to look for her at her family’s restaurant. Even after she graduated from college, she still worked there part time helping her dad out. She was there, we talked, I had dinner. She seemed fine, happier than I’d ever seen her. Actually, it was like the life she wanted was finally coming together. Now I’m just wondering what changed.” He said, glancing over to meet JJ’s eye.

 She knew that look. Help me understand.

 “What do you mean?” She asked.

 “I mean, she’s fine, her career’s finally headed where she’s always wanted it to go, she’s cut almost all ties with her abusive mother and then…this… Even with the letter, social services wouldn’t have even notified me about the baby if they knew who the father was, so she either didn’t know herself, or doesn’t want him in daughter’s her life for some reason. I’m guessing it’s the latter. Becca was… a little rough around the edges but sleeping with and getting pregnant by someone she didn’t know just doesn’t fit. Then she gives birth, immediately abandons her child, and dies suddenly of no apparent cause on the steps of a church? None of it makes any sense to me.”

 “I asked Garcia to look into the last few years of your friend’s life so we can try to figure out what happened to her,” JJ told him. “We should have some answers by the time we land.”

 “Thanks for coming with me JJ.” He said.

 “Of course.”

 “Really…I… I don’t know how I’d get through this without you…”

 “I’m right here Spence. Whatever happens, I’m always on your side.”

 “You’re the best.” He replied, smiling for the first time since hearing the news.

 “So, you think she knew who the baby’s father is?” JJ asked.

 “Yes. Which means there must be another reason why social service can’t find him, I don’t think she wanted whoever he is to know about the baby.”

[nostalgicatsea]

Hi! If you're still taking prompts, stevetony + cheese wheel! (And also, I want to let you know that I enjoy reading your fics and I tried thinking of ideas from the fics you wanted to write but ugh, I'm no help there. If it helps, I actually got excited when I read the plots! I would read all of them!)

On AO3

The biggest block of cheese that Steve had ever seen in his entire life greeted him as soon as he got to his room after a long day of class. He stood in the doorway, nonplussed.

“Uh,” he managed to say intelligently, the strong stench permeating every inch of his room and apparently his brain so that he couldn’t think of anything other than “Big cheese in room. Why?”

“What are you doing? Put your bag down and let’s go. We’re late for dinner and I’m starving,” Sam complained. 

He stepped to the side to let Sam, who was trying to peek into the room from behind him, get a better view.

“Oh, that. I can’t believe it got to you in one piece,” Sam said as if this wasn’t odd at all but was rather something expected, which Steve couldn’t understand because he hadn’t ordered cheese, no one had mentioned getting cheese, and there wasn’t any note attached to it explaining where the cheese had come from.

Jan wriggled her way between them. “It came!” she squealed as soon as she made her way to the front, clapping with glee. “I wonder who delivered it. Maybe Vision? He wouldn’t care that much about trying a bite.” She eyed the wheel as if she were sorely tempted to slice off a chunk for herself.

“What’s all the—oh Cap, you’re back.” Patsy poked her head out of her room as if the cheese wheel had called to her—or maybe it was Jan’s shriek that had sounded the alarm. “Hey, could I try some? I’ve been waiting for Professor Pym to let you guys out to ask.” She pursed her lips at Sam’s snort. “Okay, the past three weeks,” she conceded as she walked over.

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked all of them, baffled. He turned to Patsy. “Three weeks?”

“Yeah…” she said slowly. “Did you forget?”

“I’m not sure how you could forget winning a wheel of one of the most expensive cheeses in the world,” Sam muttered.

“The most expensive—wait, win? Is this about the charity auction we had?”

“Yeah,” Patsy repeated, dragging out the word like she did the first time. She looked as though she were stuck between thinking he was pitifully dense and being insulted that he of all people got the prize when he clearly didn’t appreciate it the way she did.

Nothing about their conversation so far made any sense; if anything, Steve was more confused than when he had first entered his room.

“I didn’t bid for a cheese wheel,” he insisted.

“Yes, you did. Tony went up on the stage, and you shouted everyone down with an outrageous bid. No one wanted to fight you on it, remember? I thought Loki would, at least.” Jan held up three fingers, putting them down one by one as she rattled off her reasons. “I mean, he has the money, he loves antagonizing everyone, and he always raids Tony’s fridge. I’m surprised you went for it considering you don’t love cheese…that…much…” 

She trailed off and paused, staring up at him at the same time it dawned on him that he had made a fool out of himself and couldn’t back out now without looking even more stupid. Jan, Patsy, and Sam were crowded around him, blocking the only exit.

“Steve,” Jan said slowly, “what did you think you were bidding on?”

He could feel the heat of his blush creeping down his face and neck, and considering its intensity, he knew he was as red as a fire hydrant.

“Uh,” he said for the second time in minutes.

“And here’s Tony with his second offer of the night!” Jan said, introducing her best friend with a flourish. 

Tony sauntered onto the stage, basking under the bright stage lights.

“Our last item is another mystery gift. Like the ones before it, I can’t tell you what it is, but you know Tony gives the best gifts and I can personally guarantee that we saved the best for last. To most of you, it’ll be the most valuable auction of the night.” 

Jan winked and a strange, focused quiet that Steve couldn’t make any sense of rippled through the crowd, all conversation ceasing and everyone’s faces shining with anticipation as Tony stepped to the edge of the stage. 

“Jan says ‘mystery,’ but you all know what’s up for grabs,” he said with a smirk.

A few people gasped, and Steve glanced around to see several starry-eyed classmates before looking back at the stage again, taking care not to grip his paddle too hard as Tony opened his arms to the audience, inviting them to look their fill.

The bidding war had started almost immediately, the numbers jumping up second by second. Steve wasn’t going to bid, wasn’t going to do anything that made it obvious just how sweet he was on Tony like blurting out an extraordinarily high bid, but Tony had seemed taken aback by how fervent the bidding was and how many people were bidding on him—by the people who were bidding on him because some surprising bidders had come forward, and Steve…hadn’t been able to handle that.

“I didn’t know it was going to be cheese,” he said a little more defensively than he would have liked.

Sam gaped at him. “That’s all Tony’s been talking about for ages! What did you think the mystery item was?!”

“Tony was up there, and he looked uncomfortable,” he said instead of answering Sam’s question, his ears on fire. At this rate, his entire body would be as red as Tony’s armor. 

“Because Patsy and Kate were ready to murder Brian for it! And it got all weird when Otto joined!” Jan’s eyes grew as big as saucers. “Oh my God,” she said breathlessly, “did you think he was auctioning himself off?”

“Steve, America was one of the last bidders standing. America,” Sam said at the same time Patsy exclaimed, “You thought I was fighting for Tony? Why?! I’ve never shown any interest in him.” 

“We all know why. How long have we been talking about this?” Sam shook his head as though he couldn’t deal with Steve making a fool out of himself any longer. “He thinks Tony hung the moon, so of course everyone would want to fight for him. But he won’t make a move even though Tony basically broadcasted his feelings for him during his auction too.”

A denial sprung to his lips—he didn’t like Tony that way, and Tony winning his auction didn’t mean anything; he was just being nice, and he spent a lot of money on all his friends—but neither Jan nor Patsy showed any indication that they were surprised as though they had talked about this for a while, and a familiar voice came from behind him before he could speak, banishing all thought from his mind.

“Oh,” Tony said in a small voice, stunned.

He stood there, plates and utensils in hand, his mouth parted in shock. Natasha was behind him, carrying an assortment of fruit and crackers, unruffled.  

Never before had Steve wished the ground would open up and swallow him as much as he did now.

“How much did you hear?” he asked weakly, breaking a long moment of awkward silence where no one quite knew where to look.

“Everything after Patsy said she’s not interested in him,” Natasha replied. “So he knows you’re in love with him, and you know that he’s in love with you.”

“Natasha!” Jan cried, taking pity on both him and Tony. 

“What? Everyone but these two idiots knew for months, and Tony was going—”

“—to hang out with a friend, eating amazing cheese and watching Netflix—”

“Netflix and chill?” Sam replied a bit disapprovingly, as if he were disappointed on Steve’s behalf. “I thought you’d have better game than that.”

“No!” Tony held his hand up in protest before slamming it back down on the plates again, catching the knives and forks that had nearly slid off from the force of his emphatic gesture.

“Ohhhhh.” Patsy snapped her fingers. “You’re wine-and-dining him! That’s cute.”

“I—what? Fruit and crackers aren’t fancy!” Tony said, but he was flushed and his retort didn’t have much bite to it.

This was not going the way Steve had expected. He had seen Tony flustered before, but he was always able to cover it up quickly, either by appearing cool and collected or by managing to divert everyone’s attention while he tried to recover. He had never seen Tony like this.

A thought came to mind, vague and half-formed but with hooks that sank into him so that he could think of nothing else.

Surely if it meant nothing to Tony—which should be the case because he had never shown any sign of interest in Steve before and he flirted with everyone but him—he would have cracked a joke right now.

But he hadn’t and maybe that meant something. 

He couldn’t let that chance go if that were the case.

“Is it true?” he asked. “What Natasha said.”

Tony glanced at him, startled, and Steve could tell he was ready to say no, his heart already sinking, but something on his face must have changed Tony’s mind because he frowned and then bit his lip.

That settled it for him. 

“I’d like to talk to Tony alone,” Steve said to all of them firmly, his expression quelling any form of protest that might have otherwise risen.

Sam cocked his head at the others, stopping in the doorway before he left. “I’ll save you some food if I don’t see you at dinner,” he said kindly.

Steve knew Sam was offering to check up on him after, and he was grateful for it although if his hunch was right, it would be unnecessary.

“It’s fine. This’ll only take a few minutes,” he promised.

Sam nodded and Steve ushered the rest out before he closed the door and turned to face Tony. Tony hadn’t moved from his spot, and Steve was much closer to him than he had expected.

“Is it true?” he asked again, hope both emboldening him and making his words come out shakily. 

“The cat’s out of the bag.” Tony shrugged, giving Steve a rueful smile. “Why else would I have tried so hard to win your auction? I thought I showed my hand, to be honest.”

“You didn’t.” 

He remembered how nonchalantly Tony had raised his paddle and given his winning bid.

“It was the highest bid of the night, Steve.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Tony laughed. “Did you know what I—never mind, stupid question. Of course you did. I kept blabbing about the cheese all week. And I know that was against the rules, but I felt bad about people bidding on something they didn’t know.”

“No one would have minded. Everyone knows you give the best gifts. Sometimes when we don’t ask for any and you don’t need to.” He paused. “A lot of times, actually,” he added.

It was one of the things he loved most about Tony; he was the most generous and caring person Steve knew, never hesitating to offer help in any way he could. 

“Don’t you hate my robots?” Tony asked, but Steve could tell he was joking.

He rolled his eyes, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “Don’t start this again. You know I don’t.”

“I remember a lot of arm-wrestling that says otherwise.” Tony grew serious again, nervously picking at the gold circle lining the edge of the plate as if he could peel it off. “You seemed kinda nervous about it after you won so I thought the least I could do was show you what it pairs well with when you got it. But I get it if it’s awkward so I can just go.”

“Tony, I don’t even know what that is besides that it’s obviously cheese.”

“Then why—”

“I kind of—” he blurted out too loudly and too quickly, getting ahead of himself in embarrassment. He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. “I might’ve thought you were putting yourself up for auction.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “Wait, that’s why you’ve been acting weird lately? You paid that much money because you wanted a date with me?”

“No! I mean, yes, I do want to go out with you. I think Sam made my side of this fairly obvious, but…you looked really uncomfortable up there,” Steve said softly. 

He had hated how Tony looked, his megawatt smile flickering before turning bright again, but awkward and pasted on this time.

“Yeah, that’s because the whole idea behind the mystery items was to give people who couldn’t offer big bids a chance to win something and the bids got out of control real fast. But that was sweet of you, protecting me like that.” 

He smiled, and Steve wondered if he was teasing him or if he meant it because what Steve had done was mortifying, not sweet. He had misread the situation and had rushed into things, thinking Tony needed help when he had been perfectly fine.

“You could’ve just asked me for a date, you know,” Tony continued, completely unaware of Steve’s internal crisis. He was still smiling—but there had been a subtle undercurrent of nervousness below the surface of his words too, taut as invisible wire, making him sound less flirty than shy and making Steve recall a conversation that he had overheard some time ago.

Tony was a harmless flirt, Natasha had said. He flirted with everything that breathed because it was safe, never meaning anything by it or expecting anything to come from it. He always got flustered when it was reciprocated. 

And sometimes people flirted back because of that.

“It’s cute,” Tigra had said.

But Tony had never flirted with him even if it was supposedly safe. Not once.

For the first time, Steve wondered if it was because Tony was afraid of it meaning something, the way that it did now, when he couldn’t keep how he really felt from bleeding through.

He never could, now that Steve thought about it. Tony had always hidden behind masks and bravado when he felt that he needed to. It had taken a while for him to see past that. Once he did, though, he had been able to read Tony like a book, to see when he was joking and when he was putting on his public persona or was wary of showing that he cared too much.

Steve wondered what would happen if he pushed back. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Tony’s hip and slipping his fingers through the belt loop there, reeling him in before he could think better of it. He could hear Tony suck in a breath, surprised, and he wanted to chase it past Tony’s lips. But that would have to wait even if he did give in a little and lean over him, watching Tony intently as he spoke.

“Then this is me asking for a date,” he said seriously.

Tony’s eyes were big and bright with incredulity, as if he were struggling to believe his good fortune. 

“Yeah?” he asked, that one word so radiant with hope that he didn’t stand a chance of hiding it.

Not that Steve thought he wanted to, what with the way he was looking at Steve, entranced.

I think I know a bit of what that’s like, he thought because there was nothing else but this, his entire universe, bright and glorious and full of hope, existing just in Tony’s eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied, unable to look away.

“Okay,” Tony said, dazed, “you can have it then.” 

And Steve could see everything, all that Tony said and all that he meant.

You can have me.

“You have me too,” Steve reminded him because Tony had won his auction too and because everything Tony was offering, he wanted to give back to Tony as well.

Tony laughed. “I guess I do, don’t I?” he said, and when he reached up to kiss him, smiling against Steve’s lips, Steve thought that it had all been worth it, all the misunderstandings and all the embarrassing mistakes, because he had ended up right where he wanted to be.