#this is still very rough and i need to work her concern for her brother in more

[direwombat]

Its that time of the week! Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton (thank you~)

Tagging: @adelaidedrubman, @strangefable, @inafieldofdaisies, @detectivelokis, @baldurrs, @purplehairsecretlair , @confidentandgood , @kittiofdoom, @fourlittleseedlings, @poetikat, @gaeadene, @aceghosts anyone else who has something they want to share today! (But no pressure, as always)

been wrestling with ch 1 of kneeling at the crossroads so here's the rewritten intro~

In the dark cold of the Stranger's bunker, Deputy Sybille La Roux can finally breathe. Her teeth still chatter from the bone-deep chill she feels after spending who knows how long in her wet uniform, but it’s nowhere near as violent now that she’s in dry clothes. The old purple flannel is soft and well worn; the cargo pants are so loose and baggy that they’re nearly falling off her hips. But beggars can’t be choosers, and after everything that’s happened, she’s just grateful the man didn’t hand her over to the cult like he said he should.

The faucet drips at a steady tempo and the fluorescent lights buzz at a similar frequency to the ringing in her ears. She claws at the sink basin, leaning heavily over it and sucking in heaving breaths as she resists the urge to vomit into it. Lifting her head, the world spins just enough to get her stomach to lurch. There’s no way in Hell she isn’t concussed, but without a doctor, there’s not much she can do about that at the moment. 

She stares at her reflection in the cracked and grimy mirror. Not like she’s in much of a better state, herself. A deep gash, freshly stitched cuts across her forehead just beneath her hairline; less deep lacerations are scattered all over her face, including one slashing vertically over her lips; and throbbing in time with her pulse are the freshly bandaged second-degree burns that spread across her shoulder.

Heat. Fire. The smell of cooking flesh and agonizing pain of having to flay oneself to escape the burning chassis.

She winces and grits her teeth. Her head throbs at the memory -- or at least she thinks it’s a memory. It’s too vivid not to be. How and why she ended up ripping off a patch of her shoulder in a burning machine she can’t quite recall, and as she tries to dig deeper for context, all she draws is a blank. She remembers slogging through the mud. 

She remembers the haunting chorus of Amazing Grace echoing out into the night. 

She remembers Earl opening the doors to Joseph Seed’s church. 

And then nothing. Everything after that is just…gone. She tries to dig deeper, but the harder she does, the more it feels like she’s grasping at smoke; reaching out to grab the shadow lurking in the fog only to come back empty handed.

A dull pain settles in her temples and she takes that as her sign to give up. For now. Things will come back to her. She just needs to give it some time. Besides, all things considered, it could be worse. None of her injuries are debilitating. Sure, some are more painful than others, but all should heal in due time. Her maman always said to count her blessings where she could.

But she still looks like Hell.

“…and Hell followed with him.”

Pain stabs just behind her eyes and she physically recoils from the image of Joseph Seed pointing at her. Her heart pounds in her chest, panic forcing a shot of adrenaline through her veins. She needs to move. She needs to run. Her grip on the sink tightens. Every muscle in her body tenses, but she has nowhere to go.

Bile rises in her throat and she chokes it out into the basin. Her gums burn. Her eyes are bloodshot and watering. The thick, yellow, wad of spit and acid is tinged red with blood.

She hastily twists the knob, cupping her hands under the stream of lukewarm water and drinking deeply. It sloshes uncomfortably in her empty, cramping stomach, but it’s worth the soothing balm it provides. 

Everything hurts, but she endures nonetheless. 

She drinks her fill and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand when she’s done. The water stopper squeaks as she closes it, and the roar of rushing water returns to the rhythmic plip plip plip of the faucet’s steady leak. 

She can’t say she feels much better. But she also can’t say she feels any worse. She’s functional, and she’ll take equilibrium over deterioration any day of the week. 

Combing her hair with her fingers, she makes a feeble attempt to tame the mess of her short, dark, locks. Then, after drying her hands on her jeans, she ambles out into the rest of the bunker, looking for the man who pulled her from the river.

[reiderwriter]

😝 brain rot from my character ai scenario… the team goes out to a bar to celebrate and you wear a tiny little dress (just to rile him up obvi) but you also end up attracting a lot of male attentionand he gets SO jealous and protective of you he’s like sitting off to the side just watching you flirt with everyone and the team is like “he looks like hes gonna explode wtf” and then the SMUT HES ALL “they can’t have you, you’re all mine” “you really like all the attention huh? i’ll give you what you wanted” OMG it’s making me crazy i hope i described it good enough 🥰🥰

A/N: Is it really a reiderwriter smut if I don't have to clarify that 'I got carried away' at some point in the authors note? No, it is not. Thank you for the request. My brain is now equally rotted, oops.

Warnings: complaints, dirty talk, semi public sexual activity, partial voyeurism, fingering, hard/rough sex.

You weren't even dating.

Which made the situation even more frustrating for Spencer, and even more exciting for you. 

You'd always flirted with the man a lot, had been told multiple times to knock it off even after getting a little too close for comfort on a case. 

But you couldn't really blame yourself on that one. You'd had to do a quick takedown at a dive bar, and you'd been tasked with pretending to be a touchy couple at the bar to block the back entrance at the staff entrance. 

You'd draped yourself all over him, allowing yourself to get closer than you'd ever been before. 

If you'd just happened to let your hands fall down to his crotch, it was pure coincidence. So was giving his obviously erect length a few strokes through his jeans as he sat staring at you like you were his last meal and he was back in prison. 

Emily had to pull you aside after that one personally. 

You knew she was protective of Spencer, seeing him as a little brother, but it seemed like she was more protective of you at that moment. 

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” She'd asked, waiting carefully for your answer before she said anything more. 

Two could play at that game. “What is this concerning?” 

“With Spencer.” 

“I'm not sure what you mean, Emily.”

“Yes, you do. Listen, I don't care what you get up to in your personal life, but Spencer has a way of making others feel very… seen. He can get protective and pushy. And I just want to know you're ready for that, and you're not going to let it affect your work.”

“Is Spencer having the same talk?” 

She laughed at that. 

“Spencer? No. I already know it's going to affect his work, because it has since you joined our team. He still gets his job done, but I know where his priorities would lie if there were an emergency.” 

You'd shivered at that and excused yourself. 

If he was that obsessed with you, why had he not told you? Stepped over that line from friends to more than that?

You needed to force the issue, and you had the perfect opportunity when Penelope invited you out for drinks. 

“Y/N! Don't go, it's Friday night, we-” she said gesturing wildly to the team gathered around you, “are going to a bar. No, you can't rain check either.” 

“Can I at least get changed first?” 

“You need to get changed. We're going to a nice bar, Y/N.” Running off again to grab the rest of your team members and force their attendance, you grinned after Penelope. 

It was time to see exactly how focused on you Spencer Reid was.

And how willing he was to let you slip through his fingers.

An hour later, you were stepping out of your taxi, pulling your skirt down as you did. The short black dress had a terrible habit of pulling up your thighs to flash your underwear at anyone in a 10 foot radius. Usually, that bothered you, but tonight, you planned on using it to your advantage. 

After all, you'd left out the underwear tonight for a reason. 

Pulling your jacket around you tighter, you pushed the door to the bar open and scanned the room for your team members. 

“Y/N, over here!” Tara called you over, nursing a beer. Luke sat next to her, Penelope on his other side, and Matt on hers and completing the group was Spencer Reid. 

“Where are JJ and Emily?” You asked, doing your very best to ignore Spencer as you sat down next to him, practically falling into his warmth. You sat so close to him. 

“At the bar. Emily is convinced she can flirt her way to a free drink, and JJ is convinced she cannot. The girl she's working on now has to be 22 at most, so it could honestly go either way.” Penelope answered, and you felt Spencer shift slightly beside you. 

“Speak of the devil,” Luke said as the two women approached. 

“Well? What's the result?” You grinned up at them, letting your head fall back against Spencer’s shoulder as you gently rested your hand on his thigh. He sat silently for a minute, not moving and just taking in the conversation. 

“I've still got it.” Emily grinned triumphantly. 

“Maybe I should give it a try. There are a few hot male bartenders tonight. Who knows, I might score more than just a drink.” 

Spencer choked on the drink he was sipping as you spoke quickly, a few knowing looks passing between every other person at the table. You'd have to be blind to miss it. Or Spencer. 

“Spencer, are you okay? You should be careful, I wouldn't want you to choke. That's how I want to end my night, but it's not for everyone.” That one earned you a few snickers from the others and a glare from the man himself. 

“I'm fine, thank you, Y/N.” He smiled down at you and gave your knee a friendly tap that turned slightly less friendly as he pushed it further up your leg. 

The others had since averted their attentions, moving their conversation onto other things, but you and Spencer were still stuck in each other's orbits. 

Your heart beat faster until you were sure it could be seen, raw and fit to burst out of your chest. His fingertips brushed your hem. He was seconds away from realising that you were going to get the attention you wanted that night. 

Slipping just an inch up the hem, he twitched almost imperceptibly as he searched for your panty line, brows knitting when he couldn't find it. 

“What's wrong, Spencer? Searching for something that isn't there?” You enjoyed watching his frown deepen as he registered your words, but you enjoyed it even more when you gently pushed his hand away as you stood. 

“Well, I need a drink. Let's hope I can recreate your success, Emily.” You said, finally pushing off your jacket. The dress may have been short, but it was also low cut, burning the candle at both ends as your breasts threatened to spill over with any particularly deep breath. 

“Sweet lord in heaven! You didn't come to play tonight.” Penelope exclaimed, practically applauding your body as you twirled for her and showed off the form fitting dress, giggling all the way. 

“You said it was a nice bar, Penelope. I'm hoping there are also some very nice men here, too.” With a wink, you turned on your heel and strode to the bar, making sure your hips swung seductively with every step. 

You couldn't immediately give in and turn to see if he was watching you when you got to the bar, though, not willing to give him the satisfaction. You were doing it all for him, but you still didn't want him to know that.

It didn't take long for men to swarm you. They came one at a time, and you entertained them each as you waited for your unnecessarily complex cocktail order to be prepared. 

In the 7 minutes you'd been away from the table, you'd been approached by three separate men. They all tried lines on you, gave you their numbers and tried their best to woo you, but with Spencer’s eyes burning across your body as you leaned against the bar, you really couldn't have cared less. 

Still, you leaned in, giggled in the appropriate places, and took the numbers, knowing they'd never be called.

When your cocktail was finally ready, and the last one offered to fund it for you  You finally felt a hand at your back. 

“That won't be necessary, thank you.” Spencer ended the conversation, handing his own card over to the bartender as he kept his hand on your back, his body crowding yours. 

The man walked away in defeat, and you turned on him, sipping your drink as you refused to move away.

“Now why ruin all my fun, Spencer?” 

“You're really enjoying all this attention, huh?” He said, pushing your hair behind your ear as he leaned closer to you, his next word a whisper against your skin.

“I can see your pussy from all the way back there,” he said, tugging down your skirt slightly. You weren't surprised though  simply taking another sip and maintaining eye contact. 

“I know.” His hand, having slipped up to your waist, tightened as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You want everyone to see your dripping cunt? Want to let all the men here take a turn trying to catch your attention so they can slip in?” His voice was low, practically a growl as he licked his lips.

“No. I wanted to see how long it'd take you to come over and do it. By my count, that was eight minutes, correct?” 

“Good girl. Just remember that you're mine. I'm not letting anyone else have you.” Giving your face a gentle stroke, he let it trail down your body, subtly cupping and squeezing your chest on the way down. 

“All of a sudden, I feel very tired, Spencer. Take me home.” He wasted no time, grabbing your hand and gathering you up, your jacket and bag collected from the desk as he gave minimal answers to the others as you departed. To their credit, they asked minimal questions. 

The cold air hit you hard as you pushed the doors open again, but Spencer was unperturbed, pulling you over to his car silently, a strong hand on your shoulder helping you into the passenger's seat.

You dare not talk the entire drive to his apartment, so sure that any word from you would have him turning immediately to deposit you right back at the bar. 

He didn't, though, but he also didn't look at you or touch you. You sat squirming at the heavy atmosphere, suddenly desperate to know exactly what thoughts were trapped inside Spencer’s impressive brain. 

“We're here.” He announced, pulling up quickly and cutting the engine, climbing out in a hurry. 

You fumbled with your own seat belt as he pulled your door open, catching you up in his arms as he closed the door behind you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, letting him carry you up the stairs to his apartment.

His lips didn't meet yours until the door was firmly closed and locked behind you, and even then, he didn't immediately dive in. He out you down, and a touch of disappointment flooded your body as he completely entangled himself from you. 

It dissipated completely when his hand wrapped around your throat. 

“Let me be clear, Y/N. You are mine. If you want attention, I will give it to you. If you want to choke on something, I'm more than happy to provide it. If you want to dress like a little whore, go ahead, but don't forget who your sweet little cunt belongs to.” His fingers tightened with each word as you gasped for air, back resting on the nearest wall as his body pressed up along your own. 

“Do you understand?” He asked, and you nodded repeatedly, fast and desperate. 

“Good. Now, ass up on the bed. I'll meet you there.” You practically sprinted to the room in question, slinking up onto the bed. He said ass up, but you hesitated slightly as he quietly shut the bedroom door behind you, just long enough to earn a slap on your ass as he finally returned to your side. 

“You have to listen, Y/N. You wanted this, so you have to listen nicely.” 

“I'm sorry, Spencer, it won't happen aga-” He stole the end of your sentence as he slipped his fingers into you, gently working the two longest ones up into a frenzy as he finger fucked you. 

“Sorry, what was that? I don't think I quite caught your words.” You could only moan in reply as you buried your head in his pillows, ass pressing back into his fingers to help him get deeper.

“So needy. Look at this little black dress. You knew this was going to happen, right?” A third finger slipped inside you, and you screamed out in pleasure as he continued using you.

“Burying your head isn't going to work, Y/N. Your cunt is answering for you.” 

You heard the rattle of his belt unbuckling as his fingers finally slipped out, the emptiness only a relief for a second before his cock was hitting deep inside of you. 

Thoughts escaped you as you finally got what you'd been begging for for weeks. His every frustration was pounded into you as he tugged at your hair, pulling your torso up so he could hit even deeper. 

Pulling back your head with a hand on your throat he laid a barrage of kisses across your upper back and shoulders, making sure to bite and suck and nip as his spare hand toyed with your nipples, pinching and pulling. 

In a second, you reached your climax, not having the breath left in you to let him know before you tightened on his shaft and let your body fall limp under his hands. 

“I'm going to mop up our cum with this dress, Y/N, and then I'm going to make you put it back on.” With a final grunt, he pulled out, jerking his cock through his release as he shot his load right over your pussy lips. 

He collapsed on top of you, and you finally gave up your last bit of strength beneath him, enjoying the pressure of his weight pushing down on you again. 

“Thank god that worked,” you gasped, catching your breath. You smiled as he flipped you over and pulled the dress off your head, true to his word. 

“What worked, Y/N?” 

“This. You don't know the lengths I'd have gone to to get you yo finally fuck me if this hadn't worked.” 

“But suddenly, I'm curious, and I have all the time in the world.” You laughed lightly but snuggled into his chest again, meaning to sleep. 

“Unless you want to get dressed again now…?” 

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔙𝔢𝔦𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯

Mike Schmidt X male reader

This was requested from a really nice person on tumblr: “I completely fell in love with your Mike Schmidt x male reader, and I have an idea for part four, if you make one. So you know how in the movie the aunt hires Max and her brother to mess with Mike's job. Well, what if the aunt hires someone to break into Mike's house on a night when y/n is babysitting Abby. Idk really just seemed like an ok idea.” Hope I was able to satisfy your request.

Tags: Part 4 of this miniseries of Mike Schmidt x male reader. No use of Y/N. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Smut at the start. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Reader being called “good boy”. Blowjob (reader giving). Angst. Some small fight scenes.

Words count: 6000 words

If you have an idea for part 5, please let me know <3. I love spending time in reading others opinions

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

Part 1-part 2-part 3-Part 5-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8

The evening was cloaked in a heavy, golden light, the last rays of the setting sun casting long shadows across the small, familiar space of Mike's home. The day had been long, and you could see the weight of it in the way Mike's shoulders slumped, the fatigue etched in the lines of his face. He was standing in the living room, one hand resting on the back of the worn-out couch, the other rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that spoke of his tension and exhaustion.

Abby was already tucked away in her room, engrossed in some cartoon on the television at full volume, her laughter occasionally ringing out. You watched Mike for a moment, your heart aching with the silent burdens he carried, the unspoken fears that clouded his thoughts.

He hadn't noticed you yet, his mind clearly elsewhere as he stared out the window, lost in thought. You approached him quietly, your steps soft on the wooden floor. When you reached him, you gently placed a hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his worn jacket.

His head turned to look at you, and for a moment, the stress in his eyes softened, replaced by something warmer.

You stepped into the room quietly, not wanting to startle him, though he must have sensed your presence because he looked up, offering you a tired but warm smile "Hey," he greeted softly, his voice rough with exhaustion.

"Hey," you replied, stepping closer until you were standing beside him. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "You look like you could use a break."

Mike let out a heavy sigh, the kind that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul. He nodded, but the motion was half-hearted, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you. "Yeah, just...' a lot on my mind," he admitted, his voice low and rough, tinged with exhaustion

He let out a heavy sigh, his eyes flicking to the paperwork before meeting yours again "Yeah, it's just.. everything feels like it's piling up, you know?"

You could hear the frustration and weariness in his voice, and it made your heart ache. You knew how hard he had been working, how much he was sacrificing to make sure Abby had a safe and stable home.

But you also knew he couldn't keep going like this without burning out. He needed to unwind, and maybe you could be the spark that helped him do just that.

After all, there were better ways to relieve stress, and your lips were more than ready to offer a hands-on demonstration.

You hesitated for a moment, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you considered your next words. Despite everything you had been through together, talking about anything remotely intimate still made your cheeks flush with heat.

"Mike," you began, your voice soft, almost hesitant. He looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly in concern, and you could see the question in his eyes. “What if...I helped you unwind a bit? Maybe I could help you shake off some of that stress?”

For a moment, Mike seemed caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly as he processed what you had just said. Then, a slow, almost relieved smile spread across his face, and he let out a low chuckle, the sound filled with a mixture of affection and amusement.

“You'd think after all this time, and after all the times we've seen each other naked, you wouldn't be so nervous around me," he murmured, his voice softening as he reached out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your flushed skin. "It's adorable"

Your cheeks burned even hotter at his words, and you ducked your head slightly, feeling embarrassed but also touched by his reaction. “I just... I’m not the best with words, but I really want to help you, in any way. I hate seeing you like this.”

His expression softened even more at that, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell. "You always know how to make me feel better," he said quietly, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest on your shoulder, his fingers gently squeezing in a reassuring gesture.

"And if you're offering... I'm not going to say no.”

His lips met yours. They were warm and soft, moving with a gentle but insistent pressure that made your heart skip a beat.

You kissed him back with just as much intensity, your free hand moving to cup the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

Mike's hand tightened around yours, his grip almost desperate as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against your lips in a silent request. You parted your lips, allowing him in, and the kiss became more urgent, more intense.

His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until you were nearly in his lap, your bodies pressed together.

You reached up, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

"You're such a good boy," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something more primal.

The praise sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help the soft whimper that escaped your lips at the sound of it.

"It's okay," he murmured, his hands sliding down your arms to gently grasp your hands, guiding them to the waistband of his pants.

Mike's breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he watched you, his gaze filled with a mixture of affection and desire while your fingers began to undo the button of his pants. The intensity in his eyes made your own pulse quicken, and you felt a rush of heat pool in your stomach as you worked the zipper down, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge beneath the fabric.

He leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. He was so warm, so solid beneath your touch, and it made you ache with need.

Your hands slid down his chest, your fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt before slipping underneath, your palms meeting the warm skin of his abdomen. He shuddered at the contact as he deepened the kiss even further, his tongue exploring your mouth with a desperation that made your pulse race.

Mike let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through his chest as you pushed his pants down, your eyes widening slightly as you took in the sight of him.

He was already hard, his arousal evident as it strained against the fabric of his boxers, and the sight of it made your own breath hitch in your throat.

"You're doing so well," Mike murmured, his voice rough with pleasure as he gently guided your hands to the waistband of his boxers, encouraging you to pull them down. "Such a good boy for me."

The praise made your head spin, your body flushing with heat as you followed his lead, pulling his boxers down until his length was fully exposed. You bit your lip, your gaze fixed on him as you took in every inch of him, the way he throbbed with need, the way his breath hitched slightly as you ran your fingers along the length of him, testing the waters.

Mike's hand slid into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he guided you down to your knees, his grip firm but gentle.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you saw the hunger in his eyes. "Please, Mike," you whispered, your voice trembling with need as you leaned in and let your head rest on his thighs, your breath ghosting over the sensitive skin. "I want to make you feel good."

He let out a low, guttural groan at your words, his hips jerking slightly in response "Do it," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

That was all the encouragement you needed.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against the tip of him, your tongue flicking out to taste him.

The salty, slightly bitter taste of him filled your senses, your tongue swirling around him, tracing every vein and ridge of his cock.

You slid your tongue up one side and down the other, slowly sucking him in as you began to take him deeper.

Mike's reaction was immediate, his breath hitching as his grip in your hair tightened, a low groan rumbling in his chest. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice rough and raw with pleasure. "That's it... just like that... good boy..."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you moaned around him, the sound vibrating against his dick as you kept moving, taking him deeper with each bob of your head.

Mike's hips began to move in time with your motions, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps as he fought to keep control, to keep from losing himself entirely to the pleasure you were giving him. But it was a losing battle, his control slipping as he let out a series of low, guttural grunts, his hands tightening in your hair as he pushed you closer, his need for release becoming more urgent.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "You're so good... so fucking good."

You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, the tension in his body building with each passing second, and you knew he was close. You doubled your efforts, taking him as deep as you could, your hands gripping his thighs for support as you moved faster, more insistently, wanting nothing more than to push him over the edge, to hear him cry out your name as he came.

And then, with a low, broken groan, he did. His release hit you with a sudden, overwhelming intensity, the salty warmth of him filling your mouth as he came, his entire body shuddering with the force of it. You swallowed him down as you continued to work him through his orgasm, milking every last drop from him until he was spent, his chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath.

He leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his hand gently stroking your hair as he whispered, "Thank you"

His arms wrapped around you, holding you firmly against him. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

Mike grunted slightly as he shifted, trying to get a better look at you. “I wonder if you’ll ever stop getting all flustered and shy around me.” A small, teasing smile played on his lips, a rare sight that made your heart skip a beat.

Mike sighed, his hand gently stroking your thigh as he murmured, "I should get ready for work."

You knew he was right, but the thought of letting go of him, even for a moment, made your heart ache. Still with your butt seated comfortably on his lap, you tightened your grip on his chest, your voice soft and playful as you whispered, “Stay a little longer.” You laughed lightly, the sound a mix of genuine amusement and a hint of longing, hoping he’d catch the underlying wish in your words.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss while his hand squeezed softly your waist.

“I wish I could.”

You nodded, understanding, even though it hurt to let him go.

Reluctantly, you untangled yourself from him, watching as he stood and began to gather his clothes.

When he put his security vest on, he turned to you and stepped closer, the distance between you closing as he reached out, his hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder.

He glanced over his shoulder towards Abby, who was still, in her room, engrossed in her drawing. "Listen," he began, his voice dropping into a more serious tone, one that made you instinctively pay closer attention. "My aunt... she's been pushing harder lately. She's still doing her best at making our life a living hell. I wouldn't put it past her to try something drastic."

You frowned, your concern deepening. "What do you mean? Do you think she'd actually do something?"

Mike let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of his stress. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. "But I've got this bad feeling. Just be careful as always, okay? If anything feels off, anything at all, promise me you'll call."

You nodded, doing your best to project confidence. "I will. Don't worry, I'll keep Abby safe."

Mike's expression softened, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over his features.

"Alright," he said, his voice steady but still carrying that undercurrent of worry. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his lips pressing against your hair as he whispered, "I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay safe."

The door opened with a soft creak, and Mike stepped outside, disappearing into the twilight.

Abby was already in her room, her small frame bent over a large piece of paper, crayons scattered around her like a rainbow explosion. The television murmured softly in the background, playing one of her favorite cartoons, but her attention was fully captured by the world she was creating with her drawings.

As the clock ticked closer to her bedtime, you suggested a quieter activity to help her wind down. You decided on a movie, something light and fun that wouldn't keep her up later with nightmares. She chose one of her favorites, and you settled down on the couch together, the soft glow of the television illuminating the living room.

But as the minutes passed, you started to notice something strange. It was subtle at first-barely noticeable-but it grew more persistent with time.

A faint noise, like the creaking of floorboards, echoed from somewhere in the house. You dismissed it at first, telling yourself it was just the old house settling, but then you heard it again, louder this time.

Your heart skipped a beat as you strained to listen, but the noise stopped as quickly as it had started. You glanced down at Abby, who was completely engrossed in the movie, blissfully unaware of anything out of the ordinary. Not wanting to alarm her, you kept your concerns to yourself.

Then, you heard something else.

footsteps.

They were faint, but distinct, coming from outside the house. You tensed, trying to discern where they were coming from, but they seemed to move too quickly, as if someone was running around the perimeter of the house.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. "Abby," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady, "I'm just going to check on something, okay? I'll be right back"

She nodded absently, her eyes still glued to the screen. You gave her a reassuring smile before slipping off the couch and heading toward the front window. The footsteps had stopped, but you still felt uneasy. You moved carefully, peering out the window into the darkness beyond.

At first, you saw nothing, just the faint outline of the trees swaying in the night breeze. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw movement. A shadow, darting quickly between the trees. You blinked, trying to focus, but it was gone before you could be sure.

Your heart was pounding now, your grip tightening on the curtain. You leaned closer to the glass, scanning the yard for any sign of life, but the night was still, save for the rustling leaves.

You were just about to pull away when the phone rang, the sudden noise causing you to jump.

You cursed under your breath, feeling foolish for letting your nerves get the better of you, and hurried to answer the phone. "Hello?" you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"Hey, it's me," Mike's familiar voice greeted you, instantly soothing some of your anxiety, "Is everything okay?"

You exhaled a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. "Yeah, everything's fine," you replied, though your voice still held a hint of the tension you'd been feeling. "What about you? How's work?

Mike sighed, the weariness in his voice evident even over the phone. "Boring. Me and the cameras tonight, keeping an eye on everything." He paused for a moment, as if debating whether to continue. "I- I was thinking about you," he added, his tone shifting to something softer, more intimate.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Oh? And what were you thinking?"

There was a brief silence on the other end, and you could almost imagine him fidgeting, trying to find the right words. "Well, I was wondering if, you know, maybe later on, when Abby's asleep, you'd be up for... helping me out a bit? Like you did before I left."

You felt a spark of excitement at the idea. You knew exactly what he meant, and the thought of it made your pulse quicken.

"You mean... like phone sex?" you teased, keeping your voice low so Abby wouldn't overhear.

Mike chuckled softly, and you could hear the relief in his voice. "Yeah.. something like that. Only if you're up for it, of course."

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a grin. "I think I could be convinced," you replied, letting a playful edge slip into your tone. "Though I'm not sure you'll be able to focus on your job afterward."

"Who says I'm focused on it now?" he quipped back, his voice carrying that familiar blend of affection and humor that you loved so much.

You laughed quietly, feeling more at ease now than you had all evening. "Alright, you've got a deal. But I should probably warn you, Abby's still full of energy, so it might be a little while."

"That's okay," Mike said, his voice dropping to a lower, more suggestive tone. "Just thinking about it will keep me going until then."

There was a brief pause, and then Mike spoke again, his voice tinged with affection. "I love you, you know that?"

You felt your heart swell at his words. "I love you too, Mike. I'll see you soon."

You hung up the phone, feeling both relieved and anxious. The house was quiet again, but the sense of unease hadn't entirely dissipated. You quickly went around, double-checking that everything was locked, before returning to the living room where Abby was still watching her movie.

She looked up at you with a smile and you forced a smile back, trying to appear calm.

You couldn't help but glance at the window again, half-expecting to see a shadowy figure standing there.

But there was nothing. Just the dark, quiet night outside.

Eventually, Abby yawned, her small hand rubbing at her eyes. You glanced at the clock, realizing it was getting close to her bedtime.

"Alright, little artist," you said with a playful smile, gently taking the crayon from her hand. "I think it's time to start winding down."

You helped her gather up the crayons and paper, placing them neatly on the table for her to continue tomorrow. Then, you guided her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her small hand warm in yours as you led her through the bedtime routine.

Once Abby was ready for bed, you tucked her in, pulling the blankets up to her chin as she snuggled into her pillow.

"Are you okay, Abby?" you asked softly, wanting to make sure she wasn't picking up on any of the tension you were feeling.

She nodded sleepily, a small smile on her lips. "I'm okay. I like when you're here," she said, her eyes earnest as she looked up at you.

She snuggled deeper into the blankets, her eyes never leaving yours. "Because Mike smiles more.”

The statement caught you slightly off guard, but you smiled gently, curious about what she meant. "He does? What do you mean, Abby?"

Abby nodded earnestly, her face serious as she explained. "He doesn't smile a lot, you know. But when you're here, he does. Sometimes it's just a little one, like he's trying to hide it. But I can see it."

"He talks about you a lot too," Abby continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if she was sharing a secret. "Like when we're having breakfast or when he's helping me with my homework. He misses you when you're at college," Abby added, her brow furrowing slightly as she recalled something else.

"He gets grumpy sometimes when you're not here. He doesn't say it. He doesn't laugh as much, and he's more quiet."

You reached out and gently squeezed her hand, feeling an overwhelming sense of love for both her and Mike. "Thank you for telling me that, Abby. It means a lot to hear that. Sweet dreams, okay?"

"Okay," she murmured, already drifting off as her eyes fluttered shut.

You stayed there for a moment, watching her breathe softly, her small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. There was something so peaceful, so innocent about her in that moment, and it only made you more determined to protect her, to keep her safe no matter what.

Finally, you quietly slip out of the room and close the door behind you.

The hallway was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the lamp in the living room.

You made your way back to the couch, intending to relax for a bit, maybe read a book or watch something lighthearted to take your mind off things.

But as you settled onto the couch, you couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that had been growing since Mike left. It wasn't anything specific, just a gnawing feeling in the back of your mind, like something wasn't quite right.

You tried to push it away, focusing on the book you'd brought with you, but the words seemed to blur together, your mind too distracted to make sense of them.

After a few minutes, you gave up, setting the book aside and leaning back against the cushions with a sigh. And that's when you noticed it. A flicker of movement outside the window, just at the edge of your vision.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes darted to the window. For a moment, there was nothing, just the reflection of the room in the glass.

But then you saw it again, a shadow passing by, quick and almost imperceptible.

You stood up slowly, moving towards the window with cautious steps, trying to convince yourself that it was nothing, maybe just a trick of the light or an animal passing by.

But as you reached the window and peered out into the darkness, you saw it again this time, clearer.

A figure, moving through the shadows, too close to the house to be anyone just passing by.

Your heart began to race, your pulse pounding in your ears as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing.

You backed away from the window, moving quickly but quietly through the house to check the locks on the doors. The front door was secure, as was the back door, but the uneasy feeling in your chest only grew stronger.

You returned to the living room, trying to decide what to do next. Should you call Mike? The police? You didn't want to overreact, but the thought of someone lurking outside the house, especially with Abby asleep in the next room, was enough to make your blood run cold.

And then, as if to confirm your worst fears, you heard a faint scratching sound, like something sharp scraping against wood.

It was coming from the back door.

Panic surged through you, your hands trembling as you fumbled for the phone.

You quickly dialed the number of the eerie place Mike was working in, your heart racing as the phone rang in your ear.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"There's someone outside," you whispered, your voice shaking with fear. "I think they're trying to get in."

There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a soft curse. ""I’ll call the police and then head over. Don't open the door for anyone except me, okay? I'm on my way.” Mike instructed, his voice firm despite the worry you could hear.

You hung up, your mind racing as you quickly moved towards Abby's room. The scratching at the back door grew louder, more insistent, but you forced yourself to focus on getting Abby to safety.

"Abby, sweetheart, wake up," you whispered urgently as you shook her gently. She stirred, blinking sleepily up at you.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

"We're going to play a game," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear that was threatening to overwhelm you. "We're going to hide, and you have to be really, really quiet, okay?"

She nodded, her wide eyes staring up at you, filled with trust. Her innocence made your heart ache, but you pushed that feeling down, focusing on the task at hand. You gently move towards her "secret fort."

You helped her crawl inside, making sure she was comfortable and well-hidden under layers of blankets. The space was cramped, barely big enough for her small frame, but you knew it was the safest place for her. You reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, giving her a reassuring smile even though your insides were twisting with fear.

"Stay here, Abby," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "No matter what happens, stay here until I come back for you. Don't make a sound, okay?"

Abby nodded, her lips pressed into a tight line as she did her best to be brave. "I'll be really quiet," she whispered back, her voice trembling slightly.

You smiled at her, trying to mask the fear you felt, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Good girl," you said softly, your heart breaking as you closed the fort, hiding her from view.

You stood there for a moment, your hand resting on the top of the dresser, as the reality of the situation began to sink in. The house was too quiet now, the silence pressing in on you from all sides. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribcage as you strained to hear any sound that might give away the intruder's location.

You knew you couldn't stay in Abby's room, it was too risky. If the intruder found you, there was a chance he would discover Abby, and you couldn't let that happen.

He seemed to know how to move in this situations, locking her room from the inside would just trap you in it.

You had to draw him away from her, give her as much of a chance as possible to stay hidden.

With every muscle in your body tensed, you quietly slipped out of Abby's room and moved toward the hallway. The shadows seemed to shift and dance around you, the darkness feeling thicker, more oppressive than before. You paused at the door, listening intently.

The scratching had stopped, replaced by the sound of footsteps moving through the house.

He was inside.

You held your breath, every muscle in your body tense as you listened.

The footsteps were getting closer, each one sending a fresh wave of fear crashing over you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to decide what to do.

You moved quietly but quickly down the hallway, each step measured and precise. You didn't dare make a sound. The house now felt like a trap, each corner a potential hiding place for the intruder. You reached Mike's bedroom door and slipped inside, closing it gently behind you.

Mike's room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon filtering through the thin curtains.

You pressed your back against the wall beside the door, your breath shallow and rapid. You could hear the intruder's footsteps growing louder, closer. The sound sent a chill down your spine. Your mind raced, trying to come up with a plan, but every idea seemed more desperate and hopeless than the last.

And then the footsteps stopped, just outside Abby's room.

Your heart lurched in your chest, your breath catching as you realized the intruder was inside Abby's room. You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms as you searched for any possible thing to hit the man.

You knew you had to stay hidden,but when you heard the faint rustling sounds coming from Abby's room, your heart sank. You peered through the small crack in the door, barely daring to breathe as you saw the intruder crouching down beside Abby's bed, carefully placing something under it. The glint of metal caught your eye. A knife, long and sharp, was placed there deliberately.

Your blood ran cold as you realized what he was doing.

He was planting evidence.

Trying to make it look like Mike was keeping dangerous items where a child could find them. He wasn't just trying to scare you, he was trying to destroy Mike.

The intruder moved with an unsettling calmness, methodically working through the room as if he had all the time in the world. He opened Abby's dresser and placed something inside, something small and white that you couldn't quite make out.

Pills, likely. Perhaps the prescription Mike had mentioned in passing, the ones he rarely touched now but kept for nights when the insomnia got too bad.

Anger flared in your chest, hot and consuming, as you watched the intruder desecrate Abby's room, turning it into a scene of fabricated neglect.

How could someone do this?

How could they be so heartless, so cruel?

You leaned forward slightly, your eyes darting to where Abby was hidden, ensuring she was well-concealed. As your foot stepped down on the floor, it creaked loudly, shattering the silence.

His covered head snapped up instantly, and your eyes locked for a heartbeat before you jerked your head back inside the room.

The sound of his footsteps grew louder, each one faster and more urgent than the last, echoing ominously through the hallway.

Panic surged through you. There was nothing here, nothing even remotely close to a weapon. He was getting closer.

The door creaked as it was slowly opened, the movements of the man careful and deliberate. You pressed yourself against the wall, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

But it was too late.

His eyes swept the room, and in the dim light, they locked onto you.

For a heartbeat, time stood still. Your eyes met the intruder’s, and in that instant, you saw the raw terror flicker in his gaze as he realized he was caught. The silence was shattered as he lunged at you, his movements frantic and desperate. His hands, cold and clammy, reached out to stifle your scream.

The force of his attack sent you crashing on the floor, your head slamming into the floor with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in your skull, your vision blurring as you tried to fight back, your hands pushing at him, your nails clawing at his arms in a desperate attempt to break free.

His hands found your throat, squeezing with a terrifying intensity, cutting off your air.

You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to breathe, but his grip only tightened.

The world around you began to spin, the edges of your vision darkening as your strength started to fade.

You fought with everything you had, your survival instinct kicking in as you tried to pry his hands off your neck, but it was no use. He was nearly double your size, his weight blocking you down on the floor, his strength overwhelming.

Your vision tunneled, and the last thing you saw before the darkness claimed you was the cold, unfeeling eyes of the intruder. Your hands fell limp, your body going still as the fight drained out of you.

The pressure on your throat increased, and then...

nothing.

A loud crack echoed in the room, followed by a muffled scream of pain.

The intruder convulsed violently as a muffled scream of pain erupted from behind his mask. He stumbled backward, away from your lifeless form, writhing on the floor as the electrical current tore through him.

Mike stood in the doorway, his face twisted with fury. He held the taser that Vanessa had given him for protection after Abby was taken at Freddy's, and he was already moving towards the intruder, who was writhing on the floor, his screams of agony muffled by the mask he wore.

He lunged forward, pushing the intruder back on the floor with his body as he tried to get back up. His fists rained down on the intruder’s face with ferocity, each punch fueled by a combination of fear, anger, and desperation.

His grunts filled the room, each one punctuating the brutal force of his blows. There was no mercy in his movements, only the desperate need to protect, to punish.

The intruder's attempts to fight back grew weaker with each passing second, his body limp and barely responsive under Mike's relentless assault. His fists were driven by something primal, something that transcended reason or logic.

The world had taken too much from him already, and he refused to let it take any more.

Time seemed to stretch on forever as Mike continued his brutal assault, his rage all consuming.

But then, as if from a great distance, something cut through the fog of his anger. A small, almost imperceptible movement, a gentle touch on his shoulder. His body tensed, but he hesitated for just a fraction of a second. The rhythm of his punches faltered, the force behind them weakening as a different kind of awareness began to seep into his mind.

Mike's breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with exertion. His fists hovered above the broken, bloodied form of the intruder, shaking with the effort it took to hold back.

His vision was blurred, the world around him slowly coming back into focus. The room was a mess, blood staining the floor and the walls, and there, just within his line of sight, was you watching him, your eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place.

Mike turned to you, his hands trembling as they reached out to touch your face, as if to make sure you were really there, really okay.

"I thought... I thought I lost you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Without another word, he pulled you into a deep, desperate hug, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe.

You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him as the adrenaline slowly faded.

Mike buried his face in your neck, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "you’re okay... you’re okay...”

Mike pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze searching your face as if needing to see for himself that you were really there, that you were really okay. His hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your cheeks.

His eyes flicked to the bruises on your neck.

"I'm okay," you reassured him, though the pain in your throat made it hard to speak.

"I love you," Mike murmured into your hair, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache

"I love you too," you whispered back, feeling a sense of peace wash over you despite everything that had happened.

After a few moments, Mike reluctantly let go, his gaze shifting to the unconscious intruder on the floor. The man was still breathing, though barely, his chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths.

You moved back to the fort where Abby was still hidden, her small form curled up under the blankets you hide her in. Gently, you knelt down beside her. She was asleep, her breathing soft and steady, unaware of the terror that had unfolded just outside her door. You carefully scooped her up into your arms, holding her close as you carried her out of the room.

Once the intruder was tied up and secure, Mike returned to you, his expression softening he saw you with Abby and he reached out, brushing a hand gently over her hair. "She's okay?" he asked quietly, his voice filled with concern.

You nodded, smiling softly. "She slept through the whole thing. She doesn't know."

Mike let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension drained from him. "Good," he murmured. "That's good."

The sound of approaching sirens filled the air, growing louder as they neared the house.

The authorities arrived quickly and the intruder was taken away. He soon confessed to being someone hired by Mike's aunt in a desperate attempt to discredit him.

The police officer's words felt distant as you replayed the night's events in your mind. It was only when you felt Mike's hand squeeze yours that you were pulled back to the present.

"Let's get you checked out," Mike said softly, concern still evident in his voice as he led you to the waiting ambulance.

You nodded, exhaustion finally catching up to you as you allowed him to guide you outside. The cool night air hit your face, a stark contrast to the warmth of Mike's hand holding yours.

The paramedics were gentle as they checked you over, their hands moving carefully as they assessed the bruises on your neck and the minor injuries you'd sustained during the struggle. Mike stayed by your side the entire time, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos of the night.

When they were finished, Mike helped you into the back of the ambulance, where you sat together, the silence between you filled with a thousand unspoken words. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close.

His grip on you tightened, as if the very thought of what could have happened was too much to bear. "I couldn't lose you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not you, not Abby. You both mean everything to me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to gently touch his face, your thumb brushing against the stubble on his cheek. "We're okay, Mike," you said softly, your voice filled with a quiet strength. "We're safe. And we'll get through this together."

If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

[6ix9inewiturmom]

Safe Word- Matthew Sturniolo

Summary: Your boyfriend Matt decided to get a little too rough with you and you needed to use your safe word

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Smut, P in V, Unprotected sex (wrap it in a snickers wrapper if necessary and desperate), safe word, crying, rough!dom!Matt, Sub!fem!reader, degradation, praising.

A/N: I LOVE YOU GUYS THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT!! This is kinda loosely based on that one scene from Fifty Shades of Grey when Ana uses her safe word!

PSA: DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR ANYTHING THIS IS MY WORK! I wrote this! dont use this for “inspiration” or anything else!

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I had been teasing Matt all day. I purposely wore my sluttiest outfit to an LA party the triplets were invited to and of course, since Matt and I are a package deal I went with him. My outfit consisted of a tiny black latex skirt with a graphic baby Tee and black thigh-high heels. I knew he hated this outfit, he wasn't insecure, he just loved being possessive over me in a healthy manner. We hadn't had sex in about a week, our schedules were not matching this week to give us any time together besides when we both got home we were too tired for anything else besides sleeping. All in all, we were both sexually frustrated and I desperately needed to be dicked the fuck down by him.

The music was loud and the lights in the enclosed venue were nonexistent beside the area lights that were flashing colors around the place, and with all the drunken people around I doubted anyone was looking at me anyway.

Matts's hands gripped my waist pulling me closer to him as my hips swayed to the music and loosened my body from the lack of freedom I've had.

“When we get home I need you faced down and ass up” Matt growled in my ear placing a small kiss on my neckline making shivers go down my spine.

“I'm really feeling this party Matt so we should stay a while” I smiled devilishly knowing he couldn't wait any longer to have me all to himself.

My response only made his grip on my waist tighter. He let out a small grunt as he pushed my ass into his now very obvious boner.

“You feel that? you feel what your slutty little outfit does to me?” he whispers in my ear and softly nibbles at my ear.

“I honestly have no idea what you're talking about Matt,” I say smirking knowing damn well exactly what he meant.

“Fuck this” he says gripping my wrist softly and dragging me around the venue finding his brothers.

“Matt, what the fuck?” I say almost whining.

“Hey so Y/N isn’t feeling well, do you guys wanna come with me or do you want to call an Uber home when you wanna come home?” Matt questions his brothers still gripping my wrist as I sit there like a child being dragged around Walmart.

“Oh girl I'm sorry, too much alcohol?” Nick says laughing.

“No actually-” i start before Matt interrupts me.

“Yes she had a little too much and doesn't realize she had that much” Matt says looking at me with disapproval.

“Just call an uber Matt” Chris says as his arm is wrapped around some girl he probably just met tonight.

Matt nods and pushes through the crowd of people still grabbing my wrist. We find our way to the car he opens the door for me practically shoving me into the passenger side as he gets in the driver's side.

Matt pulls out of the parking lot at a rather concerning speed making my head jolt back “Jesus Matt could you at least be safe getting us home… fuck” I say in annoyance.

Matt doesn't reply he just places his hand on my upper thigh and softly grips it. I place my hand on top of his holding his intex and middle finger.

Matt speeds through the interstate hurrying to get him only making me wetter and wetter by the second, questioning in my mind all the things he'd do to me. How he would thrust his cock deep into me, the way he would have his arms around my waist so tightly, thinking about all the nastiest shit he would whisper in my ear as his cock hits all the right places in me. All these things pacing through my head make my thighs subconsciously squeeze together which matt obviously caught on.

“Such a dirty fucking whore” he whispers under his breath.

My lower lip gets trapped in my teeth at his words, i. Always loved the way his voice got lower as he spoke to me sexually.

After what felt like hours we finally arrived at the house, quickly ran around to grab my door for me and once again, he gripped my wrist softly yet firmly as he unlocked the door and guided me to our bedroom.

Matt's eyes darken with more than just lust, he slowly creeps up behind me and rips my shirt right in half making me squeal.

“Matt are you serious” my jaw dropped to the floor watching my shirt fall off my arms.

He once again didn't answer and unclipped my bra allowing it to fall off my shoulders and down to the floor. His hands crept their way to my hips dropping my skirt off from them as i step out of my skirt.

He pushed me down on the bed by my shoulders and used my ankles which were dangling off the bed to flip me over with my ass in the air and my face in the mattress.

This has got to be the quickest this man has undressed. In no time his cock was free slapping his stomach and he was completely bare. He quickly spit in his own hand rubbing his spit down his shaft and spreading it around. He moves a little closer to me using the excess spit from his hand and spreading it around my folds making my hips jerk forward and sending a smirk to his face at my reaction.

He aligns his cock with my entrance and immediately bottoms out. “You think you're so fucking cute” he grunts out as his hand pushes my head down on the mattress as he thrusts his hips into mine. “Teasing me all fucking day huh? You think you're all innocent? Making everything think you're a sweet innocent little whore? You want everyone to know you're a fucking slut” he spits as my head further into the mattress.

The room was filled with my moans and cries of pleasure and the sound of my ass recoiling from his hips as he thrusts into me at an almost ungodly pace.

“MATT” I muffle out.

“Oh, you like that? You like my fucking dick being shoved so deep in your tight pussy” he groans out.

“MPHF- MA-MATT” Tears form in my eyes as his hand repeatedly smacks my ass leaving a red and white handprint on my ass as his cock abuses my cervix.

“Such a dumb fucking slut already” he laughs out as his grip on the back of my throat gets tighter.

“BUTTERFLY” i scream out with tears streaming down my face, lifting my head to the best of my ability which sends Matt into a panic, and immediately pull out and flipping me over to face him.

“Baby? Are you okay? did i hurt you?” his hands cup my cheeks wiping away the tears that had been pouring out of my eyes.

“Y-y-yes” i whisper out as i flince at his touch.

“S-shit” he studders out “Where did I hurt you, my love?” his voice softens.

“Y-you h-had y-y-your hand o-on the back of my-my throat a little too tight” My breathing shudders “I-i I couldn't breathe” I sniffle out.

“I-am so sorry sweetheart, you know i would never internally hurt you, i-i-i just got carried away” he looks down fiddling his fingers.

“N-no i-i-i know..” my voice trails off as my eyes water.

“Come here” he opens his arms for me to lie in them as his hands run through my hair. “I'm so so sorry” he whispers.

“I-its okay” as i bury my head in his chest.

“Sh sh, don't speak” he kisses my head. “I was too rough with you, you felt the need to use your safe word” his voice cracks as tears of his own start forming in his eyes. “I promise you i won't be that rough with you again” he kisses my head again.

I lift my head up a little “n-no i like when you're rough i just like my ability to breathe matt” i softly smile.

He returns a smile before placing a loving small kiss on my lips and laying back as my head lays back on his chest.

“I love you” he whispers out slowly massaging my scalp.

“I love you too” I mutter before falling fastly asleep in Matt's arms.

“I love you most” he replies kissing my head and also falling into a deep slumber of his own holding me the rest of the night.

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A/n Pt 2: AHH THIS ONEE I STG I JUST KEPT TYPING AWAY SO I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE!!!! And tysm again for over 500 followers!!!

XOXO

Gabs 💋

[underthe-redhood]

our last chance

- a/n: it's mentioned that the reader is the daughter of bruce and selina, but it's never mentioned that she's biologically related, so you could definitely interpret it as her being adopted by them!

8. blueberry icing

- synopsis\\ you watch as dick runs off after batman betrays him for the last time, causing the family to fall apart. after an explosion, and a time machine, with a speedster to help you, you have one last chance to stop history from repeating itself.

• word count: 1,253

• masterlist

INCOMING CALL: dick :3

you quickly looked up at bart, very nervous about why dick could be calling. "pick up before it goes to voicemail!" bart panicked.

"relax, there's no way we got caught," you tried to reassure him but your tone was dripping with anxiety.

"hey y/n, turns out barbara's not here. she texted saying she got an alert, is everything okay?" he asked.

this wasn't totally unexpected but nonetheless your heartbeat was speeding up. "oh uh, i can probably go down to the batcave and check?" you offered, hoping he wouldn't take you up on it.

"no that's okay, we're probably just gonna pick up some donuts and head back. they have blueberry icing, you really like that one don't you?" he suggested.

"yeah i do, you're the best," you said. saying that out loud made some of the guilt go away, because it reminded you why you were doing all of this.

"anything for you," he chuckled before hanging up. you were a little worried that your plan was going to lead to them having fights; but then that was sort of the point, wasn't it?

"what now?" bart asked you. you thought about it for a second, you couldn't just cause one small inconvenience and then move on to the next step of the plan. obviously you would need to cause several more for this part of the scheme to actually work.

"i think we should keep this up for at least like another week or so,” you told him. he nodded his head at you a little bit.

“won’t it seem suspicious if the problems just suddenly stop though?” he asked with slight concern.

“not necessarily,” you said. “if we can make the problems seem subtle enough then it should just seem like they went through a little rough patch.”

“okay yeah, that makes sense,” he said. “but what exactly are we gonna cause next?” he asked, still not totally clear on the plan. but, to be fair, neither were you as you still hadn’t even perfected the plan yet.

“i’m not really sure yet,” you looked down as you thought about it. “oh!” an idea came to you. “she works at the university’s library, so we could pose some fake events there and convince her to work extra shifts to help out with it. the more time she spends at the library, the less time she’ll have with dick,” you proposed the idea and he looked at you in thought.

“i mean yeah, i don’t see why that wouldn’t work,” he said. “we could also try convincing dick to spend some time going over some extra training with the titans. i know starfire really loves it when he comes back to visit and he seems to enjoy getting to help us out every once in a while.”

“that’s perfect,” you smiled. “then it won’t just be babs ditching dick, so it won’t be a ton of negativity just immediately dumped onto them.” you hugged him out of joy, you were so thrilled because it really seemed like things could actually work out and that you could actually get your brother back.

bart loved that you were hugging him, and he couldn’t deny that being around you felt just a little bit more special every time. it was clear to him that he was falling for you, but it didn’t bother him or freak him out. you had always been so perfect to him, even when he only saw you as a friend. it only made sense to him that he would start to catch romantic feelings for you as well.

however, he could tell that you hadn’t caught onto his actual feelings yet. you just assumed that he was a flirt the same way his cousin was before he finally got a girlfriend. and while bart was a bit like wally in some ways, it was different with you and it always would be. the real question to him, however, was how you felt about him. he knew the feelings of closeness and trust were mutual but he wasn’t sure you reciprocated the same feelings.

and, in a way, he was right. the same way you hadn’t noticed the way that he liked you, you hadn’t picked up on the subtle reasons that had led to you acting the way that you did. you weren’t sure why you let it slip that you thought he was cute. you weren’t sure why you felt bubbly when you tried to think about why you called him cute. you considered the possibility that you liked him, but you weren’t sure if you were overreading your emotions or not. that, and you already had so much to worry about with dick that you didn’t think you even had the time to really think much into it.

and so, you let it go. as special as bart was to you, you knew that you would have to work that out later. at that moment you had to worry about dick. it was a little heartwarming, however, to think about how you would never have to worry about bart. he would always be there for you, and for that you were so thankful.

“i’m sorry about your time machine,” you brought it up as your tone became faintly sorrowful. “i know going back home means a lot to you.”

“it’s okay,” he said. “the longer i stay here the more reason i have not to leave.” you didn’t know that he was referencing you, and he was maybe a little glad about that. you meant so much to him, that he would rather tease you about relationships as a friend then try one out when it wasn’t meant to be and risk everything in the process. as long as he got to be around you, it didn’t really matter to him what role he was playing.

his statement filled you with an odd feeling of joy, and still you weren’t sure why. “still, i’m always here for you too.”

then it was his turn to smile, “thank you y/n, that really does mean a lot.” but then his smile became more of a smirk, “so back to when you said ‘if we ever date’..” he trailed off.

you felt flustered, “oh my god you know what i meant!” but there was still that little voice in your head that wanted you to put more thought into it then, rather than later. because, did you know what you meant?”

“i’m just saying, fake dating is such a common trope that your brothers would never suspect it as part of a plan to rewrite the timeline,” he was doing a damn good job at selling you.

“i feel like we might just end up there with the grave i’ve been digging for myself,” you warned him. “why do you want this so bad? is this your way of secretly getting me to fall madly in love with you,” you joked.

“maybe it is, maybe it isn't,” he said with a goofy grin. he was so charming, you really were glad that the two of you became friends– even if it was under tragic circumstances. “i should probably get going before they all come back, though.”

you nodded, “i’ll call you tonight?” he had taken a few steps back but was still looking at you.

“i’m looking forward to it birdie,” he winked, and then he sped off leaving you feeling flustered once again.

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my ex I had sex?

This has been rolling around in my head for a while. I'm pretty concerned I did the wrong thing and was needlessly cruel.

My (20X) ex-boyfriend (25M) was pretty self-obsessed the entire time we were together. We has known each other for 8 years and got together when I was 17 (I know this part is fucked up, I've come to realize it since).

He always expected me to be there and spend all my time with him. Example: One time he got mad at me for falling asleep when I had a crown on my island in animal crossing and made a public show of it on the group I was opening my island to, consisting of both my brother and my cousin. He's overall just very clingy and doesn't really seem to think anything is ever his fault from my friends' perspective, and eventually mine as well.

Anyway, I tried very hard to get away from him, but since we had been using the same Skype group for years and he was the one I told everything to, it was pretty difficult to do, until my current girlfriend (21X) came into my life and I could cling to them instead of this dying, toxic relationship.

I ended up deleting Skype and not initiating conversations with him. He started using Discord to talk to me occasionally, and I kept it polite but distant. He kept trying to work his way back in though, and I could tell. Largely innocuous things, like sending little hearts and stuff, and continuing to make sexual remarks after I told him I didn't want him to anymore.

So here's where it gets rough.

My ex had this girlfriend who left him and stopped talking to him altogether. Eventually she got married, and he took it very personally and hated her husband. I promised I would never leave him the way she did.

Well, I met up with my girlfriend for the first time and we immediately clicked. That night, like the title says, we had sex.

(I need to make it clear that I had told him at this point multiple times I wanted to break up and just be friends, trying FwB at one point just to ease him into it, but at this point I wanted nothing to do with him aside from polite conversation. I had also told him he needed to get therapy before I would consider getting close to him again, and he still hadn't attempted to get therapy.)

The next day, while I was trying to enjoy the event we were at, my ex sent me a picture of a heart-shaped stone. I sent back a picture of the two of us at the event.

He asked who it was, and "I can't believe you went without me smh" (probably a joke. probably.)

I responded back, "we had sex last night"

He immediately got more formal, asking why I would do this to him and saying his ex and I have a lot more in common than I think. I then explained to him that I was sick of him doing the things he had been doing, and he claimed it was all platonic.

We haven't spoken since, except once when I let him know his art was in an AI database.

So.... AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[ladylilithprime]

Day 9: Moon

('18. THE MOON--Hidden enemies, danger, calumny, darkness, terror, deception, occult forces, error. Reversed: Instability, inconstancy, silence, lesser degrees of deception and error." --A. E. Waite

This is eventually going to be chapter one of a much larger work, which will be posted on AO3.)

IN THE WAKE of the fire at the apartment just outside Stanford and the near-death of Jessica Moore due to demon interference, Sam Winchester had needed to pull his brother aside and explain, slowly and carefully and with an eye to the exits, exactly why he didn't just think he could - shouldn't - go back on the road hunting and chasing down their missing father. Contrary to what Dean had obviously thought, it wasn't because Sam was bound and determined to have a normal life. It really was, as he had said, about trying to be safe. Not safe from monsters, though-- safe from hunters. And keeping everyone else safe from him.

"It happened when I was on the way out here the first time," Sam had explained in a low voice as he tried not to be obvious about watching for when his brother would catch on and pull either his gun or the silver knife. "Without a car and with not much money, I was hitchhiking my way across state lines, and had to trade a couple favors for bus fare the last bit. Turns out, one of those favors had a little extra going on and didn't think to warn me until the condom broke."

"Extra... what, like AIDS?" Dean had asked, frowning as concern broke through the clear discomfort and unhappiness at the subject of how Sam had paid his way with no money or support from him or their Dad.

"Like lycanthropy," Sam had corrected quietly. Seeing Dean tensing, he had hurried on to add, "Once he realized what had happened, which didn't take long, he was very apologetic and took the time to explain about himself and what was going to happen to me. When he found out I was coming to Stanford, he helped me get in touch with both the local pack and the local coven of natural witches so I would have a support system. They weren't too thrilled when they found out I'm a Winchester, no real surprise there, but they helped me sort myself out to keep myself and everyone else safe."

Dean had sat silent for a long moment, and Sam had let him. He hadn't relaxed at all, but Dean hadn't pulled a weapon, either. At length, Dean had taken a deep breath and let it out very slowly before nodding. "Okay, little brother. Tell me what you need and how I can help."

Jess had been the one to out herself to Dean as a natural witch and one of the coven members, sitting up against the raised back of the hospital bed with bandages around her stomach. She had also identified her and Sam's friend Brady as the one with a bodysnatching spiritual hijacker-- one who had gotten real chatty in his irritation that he'd had to wait so long to get to someone close to Sam to set this up because of "her" wards.

"Damned demon thought I was the reason your apartment was the magical equivalent of Fort Knox," Jess had huffed tiredly, her voice still rough from smoke inhalation. "Good news is the demons don't know about your monthlies. Bad news is, he was definitely trying to kill me to send a message to you, something about your mom. Makes me wish I'd snuck a look at my Aunt Jenna's off-limits books so I might've known how to fight him off...."

Sam hadn't liked it, but couldn't argue with both Jess and Dean that a targeted attack like that on the anniversary of their mother's death was a pretty good sign that Sam should get away from Stanford for a while. Jess had kissed him on the cheek, then given him a fired and glazed ceramic pendant strung on an adjustable braided leather cord with a pentacle surrounded by sun rays on one side and a spiral of runes and sigils on the other. She had explained the purpose of the pendant and the symbols, the large one that guarded against possession because Brady hadn't been the only person she had noticed feeling itchy and reeking of sulfur, and the runes inscribing a spell of concealment that would prevent anyone and anything who didn't know what he was from ever noticing anything strange about him in either form.

"Get yourself a nice little aluminum dog tag to go on there with it and you won't have to take it off when you shift," she had said with a wink, which had made Sam blush brightly and Dean howl with laughter.

He threw a pillow at Dean's head when his brother had brought him the engraved heart-shaped tag a week later when they reached Blackwater Ridge, but he'd put it on the cord with the pendant that was working exactly as Jess promised.

THE THING ABOUT being a werewolf, aside from the strength and speed and newfound appreciation for flea collars, was that changing species hadn't actually changed anything about Sam. He still preferred salads to burgers, even if he privately conceded the dietary requirements of more protein, iron and fat. He still hated the violence and killing parts of hunting while excelling at the research and interviews portion-- if anything, his extra senses made him even better at sussing out secrets and comforting upset witnesses. He still ordered stupid fancy coffee with cream and vanilla and cinnamon even if he would drink whatever black and unsweetened gas station diner swill Dean handed to him with barely a grimace of complaint.

He still had psychic powers that gave him visions of the probable future.

"I dreamed about the fire well before it actually happened," he admitted to Dean quietly over a beer, the meeting with and revelations from Missouri Moseley still fresh. "I always dismissed it because why would Jess even be in my apartment in the first place under normal circumstances? Best friend, sure, but she didn't live with me! The only reason she was there when you broke in was because she had too much to drink at the Halloween party earlier and trusted me to take care of her without taking advantage!"

"Gotta admit, though, from the outside it looked a lot like she was your girlfriend," Dean pointed out, a bit uncomfortably. "'Specially when I said Dad was on a hunting trip and you didn't excuse us from her presence 'cause she already knew about that."

"So demons are making the same assumptions about me as my brother?" Sam snorted. The humor faded quickly as he stared at the beer in the bottle. "Whatever the demons want with me... it feels like it's connected to these visions, or at least these powers. Which means it's probably not just me being targeted."

"Bunch'a kids with psychic powers all on some demons' shit list?" Dean grimaced and downed the rest of his beer. "Welp, our job's saving people from supernatural crazy shit. Can't get much crazier than that, right?"

"Let's hope," Sam sighed, draining his own beer before excusing himself to go down to Missouri's basement for moonrise. Dean waited all of half an hour after the moon was up before taking a second beer and sneaking down to the basement after his brother to find a massive dark brown and gray wolf flopped over on his side on the basement floor. The wolf's ears and nose twitched and he whined softly, but didn't move or even lift his head until Dean had sat down on the basement steps.

"We'll figure this out, Sammy," Dean murmured. "Even if it comes down to you and me against the world."

The tentatively wagging tail was the only response Sammy could give him, but it was enough. Dean stayed on the steps all night, even past moonset and Sam's return to human form. Their lives were weird and dangerous and all kinds of fucked up, but Dean absolutely believed that there wasn't anything that Earth or Hell or even fucking Heaven could throw at them that they couldn't handle together.

The alternative was unacceptable.

[jacksdinonuggets]

Angel Dust coming back to the hotel after a particularly long day of work with Val, baby Vaggie noticing her big bro feeling down, and even if she doesn't fully understand why he is so sad in her regressed state, she decides to try to cheer him up by being silly, making him gifts, and making him play with her?

Finished! it's like an in-between fic. not really a minific but not really a normal length oneshot. I just came home from the convention and right away started editing.

Angel had come back to the hotel after a long day at work. So many days he had regretted signing his soul away to Val. the lobby was a mess. All of Vaggie’s little gear was scattered around. He had to make sure he didn’t step on one of her car toys as he fell onto the couch, groaning as the bruises on his body were still a bit tender.

“Bubba?” He heard a familiar voice and sat up, seeing little vaggie at the foot of the couch, looking up at him while clingling to her stuffy. She wasn’t in her pajamas yet which confused him a bit

Yet, he forced a smile, trying to make it seem like everything was okay.

“Hey Vaggie, what are you doing up? Isn’t it bedtime?” He picked her up and sat her on his lap. It was about 7:45, Vaggie would usually start getting ready for bed around this time.

“Chawlie letting me stay up till 9,” She said.

“Is she reaaalllyy?” He asked, suspecting that she may be lying

“Mhm! She saids dat since i was a wittle bigger today, I could stay up later!” she answered. She could sense something was wrong with her big brother though. He seemed, sad and tired.

“Does bubba need a bedtime?” 

“No, sweetie, I don’t get tired as quickly as little ones like you do,” he pinched her cheek lightly.

“Bu’ you seem sads ‘nd tired,” Vaggie pointed out. It was hard to keep up his big bro face when all he wanted to do was rot in bed and have another existential crisis. 

“Work was a bit…rough today,” He replied.

“Wough, how?” She asked.

Angel did not want to explain what sexual abuse and physical abuse was to her in her regressed mindset. It might traumatize her littlespace.

“Bubba was treated unfairly,” He decided.

“Dat’s mean. Why woulds someone do dat?” 

Angel sighed. How he wished he knew, “I don’t know, sweetheart, some people are just mean without a reason,” 

Vaggie frowned at that. That wasn’t a good answer! She wanted to know and maybe figure out how to help.

She wanted to cheer her big bro up! He seemed really upset and she wanted to do something to help. She thought about what to do while he bounced her on his leg. Then she had an idea! She would make him something! A picture would help! She crawled out of his lap and grabbed a piece of paper and crayons from the floor

“Whachya doing, babydoll?” He asked, peeking over her shoulder.

“No wook!” She shooed him off. He backed away and waited for her to finish whatever it was that she was doing.

Angel waited a bit. He got pretty curious to what baby vaggie was drawing but with her exorcist reflex, she knew immediately when he was trying to glance over.

“No wooking!” she’d yell at him. He would back off, surrendering.

Finally, she was finished after a couple of minutes. She had a bright smile on her face, very excited for her big brother to see it.

“Oki! You can wook now!” She held up the picture, proudly, letting him see it. It was a picture of Angel inside of a biiigg group hug from all of his hotel friends with a happy, smiling sun in the corner.

Angel smiled. Those nasty thoughts that no one really cared about him, went away. It was like magic. A tear slipped out but he quickly wiped it away to avoid concerning the little.

“Bubba okay?” Vaggie asked, very much seeing that tear slip out.

“Bubba is great, sweetie, thank you. I’m gonna hang this up in my room.” He promised. She seemed really happy that he liked it and gave him another hug. He squeezed her small body with all four of his arms. He was so happy that he had people that cared about him.

[fictionadventurer]

2024 Victober Wrap-Up

I spent October almost exclusively reading Victorian works. Mostly short stories and novellas, a couple of novels, one play. I even read several things I had planned to read (with several more surprise impulse reads).

The Rector by Mrs. (Margaret) Oliphant

Premise: The first short story in the Carlingford Chronicles. After fifteen years as a fellow at a university, a man takes on his first assignment as a parish priest, and learns he may not be as prepared for the work as he thought. My Thoughts: The beginning was rough, but as soon as the rector comes on the scene, it becomes surprisingly lovely. It reminds me just a bit of Elizabeth Goudge in how compassionately it explores the spiritual journey of a middle-aged man struggling to discover his true vocation.

The Executor by Mrs. (Margaret) Oliphant

Premise: The second short story in the Carlingford Chronicles, about man who becomes executor of a will that deprives a poor family of the inheritance they'd expected. My Thoughts: It's pretty dry and forgettable, though there are a couple sweet moments of the romance. Mostly useful as backstory for the next book.

An Ideal Husband by Oscar Wilde

Premise: A woman threatens to destroy the career of a morally-upright politician by revealing a secret about his past. My Thoughts: This play is about politics and a moral dilemma. Of course I loved it. I was surprised at how earnest (pun not intended) Wilde sometimes was about the material, while still throwing in a lot of characteristic humor.

The Doctor's Family by Mrs. (Margaret) Oliphant

Premise: Third story in the Carlingford Chronicles series. A novella about a doctor whose drunken brother returns from Australia trailed by his wife, children, and the wife's take-charge sister, whose devotion to the family interferes with her blossoming romance with the doctor. My Thoughts: Nettie is a fun character, but the story is so repetitive, with the same stupid obstacles coming up over and over, that it got very frustrating. The doctor did not deserve her.

The Doctor's Wife by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

Premise: A practical country doctor falls in love with a dreamy young girl whose expectations about life are shaped by the novels she reads. My Thoughts: I read the first few chapters, and I still love Braddon's style and her characters (especially the one who's a sensation novelist!) but I just couldn't motivate myself to keep going with it when there were so many other books fighting for my attention. I do plan to finish it.

A Dark Night's Work by Elizabeth Gaskell

Premise: It's a novella by Elizabeth Gaskell. What more do you need to know? My Thoughts: I wish I'd gone into this story blind, because knowing the twist that drives the story made the beginning much more stressful than it should have been. I really struggled through the first part of the story, but after about the halfway point, things started coming together, and I was riveted. I loved the characters (or loved to hate them). This features another of Gaskell's heavily flawed but loving fathers plus some sweet love stories and deliciously thorny plot twists. Not my favorite Gaskell, but a good read.

The Making of a Marchioness (alternately, Emily Fox-Seton) by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Premise: A penniless upper-class woman who has resigned herself to a life of singleness unexpectedly attracts the attention of a widower with a title. My Thoughts: In a month where I was feeling not-very-cheerful, the cheerful Emily was such a delight. Burnett always has such a wonderful blend of the romantic and the practical--the world can be beautiful and wondrous, but also has its sorrows and mundane concerns. Emily's situation is explored with a depth that means the story never feels like fluffy wish-fulfillment. The presentation of the Indian characters is very exoticized (even as the characters themselves are actively trying not to be racist) and melodrama gets just a bit over-the-top, but overall it was a sweet little book that makes me want to seek out some of Burnett's other adult novels.

A House to Let by Wilkie Collins, Charles Dickens, Elizabeth Gaskell, and Adelaide Ann Proctor

Premise: An elderly spinster moves to London and becomes desperate to learn why a house across the street never gets rented out. The framing story is written by Collins and Dickens, with short stories by Gaskell and Dickens and poems by Proctor inserted in between. My Thoughts: The framing story gives us one of Collins' delightfully vivid first-person narrators. Gaskell's story, "A Manchester Marriage", is far and away the best short story I've read by her, featuring excellent characters, a sweet love story, a heartwarming story about caring for a disabled child, a tragic twist, and one of the funniest proposal scenes I've ever read; this is now one of my favorite Gaskell stories and a highlight of my month. The Dickens story is kind of amusing in its weirdness, but not something I'd ever need to read again. The poems by Proctor were...there. The mini stories don't blend in well with the wider narrative, and the ending doesn't live up to my hopes for the beginning. Overall, a three-star (sometimes two-star) read with a five-star story by Gaskell.

Enoch Arden by Alfred Tennyson

Premise: A blank-verse story about a woman who marries a sailor and the troubles that result. My Thoughts: After I found an old pamphlet version of this poem sitting in a collection of handouts in a church, I just had go to my car and read the poem online. It's surprisingly readable, and a good story, but sad. (I still have no idea why it was in a church display).

Reuben Sachs by Amy Levy

Premise: A young Jewish man returns to London after a trip abroad and must choose between a burgeoning political career and his love for a poor woman. My Thoughts: This short book cemented Amy Levy as one of my favorite Victorian authors. While I was struggling through the wordy style of two of the later books on this list, her breezy, underwritten style was such a delight. She portrays family relationships with so much warmth and wit, and her style sometimes leaves me marveling at how she writes scenes exactly the way I would have written them. Judith was a marvelous character--I loved her family situation, her romance troubles, the internal journey she goes on. The religious element was surprisingly relatable, because it turns out this book isn't about Jewishness specifically (though there's a lot of cultural stuff in the first half of the book), but about secularism vs. tradition, and how cultures and people fail when they worship success and ignore intangibles. I've been thinking about certain scenes (the ballroom scene! the scene with her father! the callback at the ending!) ever since I finished. When I read these obscure old books, I almost never walk away thinking it deserves to be a classic. This deserves to be a classic.

A Struggle for Fame by Charlotte Riddell

Premise: Follows the different careers of a young man and young woman who leave Ireland to try to make it as writers in 1850s London. My Thoughts: A struggle to read. I loved the characters, the story, and the lovely descriptive passages. I was fascinated by the exploration of the Irish experience in England, and all the info about the Victorian publishing industry. But the writing style was so indirect that I was mentally diagramming sentences just to figure out what Riddell was saying half the time. The kind of book that I liked better when I wasn't reading it than when I was. Glad to have pushed through and finished it--the two stories came together in a lovely way.

The Time Machine by H.G. Wells

Premise: A scientist builds a time machine and travels to a far future where humanity has massively changed. My Thoughts: Wells' ideas about human nature and how humanity will evolve are complete nonsense from a Christian perspective, of course, but as a story, I thought this was pretty good. Very imaginative and engaging, with some excellent sense-of-wonder scenes. Having mostly consumed time travel stories that take a fantasy approach, it was fun to see the characters discussing the concept scientifically. The maybe-romance weirded me out, but it made for a final line that almost made me cry from how beautiful it was.

No Name by Wilkie Collins

Premise: After their parents die, two sisters learn they have no legal right to their inheritance, and one sister plots to get it back. My Thoughts: The first section might be my favorite thing I've read by Collins. It's such a warm, loving domestic atmosphere with complex and sympathetic characters and one of the best sister relationships I've read. After the two sisters separate, it got less compelling. The narration distances us from the main character's POV, the writing style becomes ridiculously wordy (where he could say, for example, "she opened a window", he'll explain how she walked to the window, looked outside, considered opening it, walked away, walked back, put her hand on the sill, lifted the sash, etc.), and the villains are unpleasant to spend time with. But there are also some very fun characters, and I do love a good con, so I kept pushing through. The final section returned to that domestic atmosphere I loved from the first section, and it tied together so well that I am very fond of the book as a whole. There's something special about a sensation novel that gets you thinking, not about how contrived the author's plot twists are, but about the beauty of God's providence.

[sjsmith56]

The Gilded Age, Part 2 - Preparations

Summary: After deducing the location of HYDRA’s activities the Avengers make their preparations for the battle.

Length: 7.5 K

Characters: Amelia, Sergeant Barnes, the rest of the Avengers, Virginia Stark.

Warnings: A plan goes awry, Amelia is given a harsh introduction to the emergency medical needs of the Avengers (blunt trauma, bullet and sword wounds).

Author notes: There were no antibiotics during this time period, other than one that proved to be toxic. Many medications were based on poisonous substances like arsenic and mercury, perhaps with the supposition that if it was toxic to people it would be toxic to a bacterium. This recipe for aloe vera salve is adapted from https://bottegazerowaste.com/blogs/zerowasteliving/how-to-make-a-diy-aloe-vera-gel. One of the ingredients listed, xhanthan gum was not discovered until the 1960s. Gelatin is considered a substitute for that product. Since he was an MD and chemist, I thought Bruce Banner would be hands on in producing his own medications. The medical treatment described is consistent with the time period. Divider by vecteezy.com.

<<Part 1

Part 2 - Preparations

Immediately on her arrival at the library, Amelia made an educated guess where the sleeve protectors were, wanting to protect her blouse from picking up ink as she was poring over the newspaper copies. They were high up on a shelf but before she could pull a kick stool over, Sergeant Barnes reached over her and picked out a pair, handing them to her. He took his jacket off, rolling up only the right sleeve, ready to assist her. They started with the newest copies first, poring over every page looking for ads, or brief news items written in a way that wasn't completely natural. Amelia found the first one, a response to another ad published previously. Once decoded, using a code that assumed the most numerous letters were the letter E, the response was Meet at Hell's Kitchen as ordered.

"So, we have a neighbourhood but not a specific location or time," said Amelia. "Are you familiar with the area?"

"Very much so," replied Barnes. "It is not a place for ladies or genteel society. We need to narrow it down in order not to attract attention from the other gangs there who may be inclined to join in on the fray."

Opening the newspaper from the day before, Amelia began to pore over it, while Barnes tackled another newspaper. He caught the message that was answered in the most recent copy, trying several codes before he was satisfied.

"Pier 81, at 9 pm." He looked at it and grimaced, then noticed Amelia looking at him. "It is not a safe place at all. Part of me is concerned we are being lured into a trap. This code is too easy."

"You are capable of handling them, are you not?" she asked, concerned.

"We are, but we'll pay for it. There must be something important and pressing that they are planning if they're not using a more secure code. Let's continue as we still have two hours before the briefing."

They both found several messages, some of them contradictory and naming different docks. Barnes swore softly under his breath, then caught himself.

"My apologies. I meant no disrespect."

"None taken, Sergeant Barnes," she replied, smiling. "On my journey in the Colorado Rockies I was exposed to all sorts of rough language by the guides as well as my father and brother on occasion. I took it in stride."

He smiled back at her, and they continued their work up until there was only five minutes left before the planned briefing. Pulling the sleeve protectors off as they walked, they rushed to the elevator while Barnes put his jacket back on at the same time. On the 21st floor the others were already assembled around the table, looking expectantly at the couple. Amelia noted a few new faces, specifically a very young man, with smooth cheeks betraying his youth and a tall muscular blond man seated next to a tall but slender dark-haired man.

"Our newest member of the Society, our librarian, Miss Amelia Winston," stated Mr. Stark. "You three can introduce yourselves to her momentarily. What have you found out?"

Barnes gestured to her to speak for them both.

"Confirmation that whatever is going to happen will happen on a dock in Hell's Kitchen at 9 pm," stated Amelia. "Unfortunately, there were several contradictory messages as to which dock." She noticed a map of New York on a large board, fastened on wheels so it could be moved. Moving over to it, she picked up some coloured pins from a small box. "Here, here and here. Sergeant Barnes is of the opinion that it may be a trap to lure you in and divide you."

"He wouldn't be wrong," stated Captain Rogers. "What does your gut say, Buck?"

"I think Pier 81 is where the action is. It is run by Wilson Fisk, who has been just as much a thorn in our side as HYDRA. If anyone is working with them, it's him."

"I agree, but I think we should still have eyes on the other two locations." Stark thought for a moment. "Hawkeye, you go to Pier 76. If you see anything, you set off a flaming arrow and we'll come running. Kid, I'm sending you to Pier 84. You have some of those fireworks still?"

Peter Parker, the young Avenger nodded. "Yes sir, I can attach them to the big crane and set them off. They'll be visible everywhere."

"Excellent, form your groups, determine your tactics and meet on the roof before 8:30 pm." Everyone stood up and split into two groups, one headed by Captain Rogers and the other headed by Sergeant Barnes. "Miss Winston, please come with me."

She followed Stark to the stairwell, going down one flight of stairs to the 20th floor. As soon as she entered, she was enthralled by what was obviously Anthony Stark's mechanical lab. There were all sorts of automatons, mechanical men, in various stages of construction. Gaping at them with an open mouth, she walked slowly past them as Stark strode further into his laboratory. He stopped at a table, then opened a drawer and pulled out a device, handing it to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A moving picture camera," he said. "I wish you to document our departure from the rooftop." Her eyes widened. "We are leaving by airship. It will only take minutes to get to the docks and gives us the element of surprise."

"You have an airship?"

He smiled. "I have many forms of travel." He opened several drawers pulling out half a dozen film canisters. "All you have to do is insert one of these then press the advance control then feed the end piece into the second canister. Don't expose it to the light. I have some gas lamps on top that should illuminate the airship enough for it to show up. Once we are out of focus, you stop the filming but leave the gas lamps on for our return. Convey the camera back here. I will develop the film on the morrow." Her mouth was still open, and he gently put his finger under her chin to close it. "There are many wonders in this world and this lab holds most of them."

He demonstrated the process of feeding the film from one canister to another then pointed out the start and stop controls. Next, he pulled a tripod out of a cupboard so that she would have a stable platform to mount the camera, showing her how to lock it in place. Dismissing her with a wave he stood in front of a large cabinet and opened it, showing a large metal body, coloured in red and gold. There were gears at the chest, elbows, shoulders and knees, as well as coils to provide spring to his jumps. Amelia had seen drawings of Stark's suit of iron, but this was the first time she had seen it in person. It was impressive, futuristic, and magnificent.

Taking the camera, tripod, and film in hand she took the elevator to the library, intent on taking a moment to familiarize herself with the moving picture camera. She was so immersed in her task she didn't hear the approach of the tall dark-haired gentleman behind her until he coughed politely. Letting out a small shriek she turned to see one of the three men she was partially introduced to.

"My apologies, Miss Winston," smiled the man, his dark hair almost matched by his dark suit. "We were not introduced properly. I am Loki Laufeyson. I must say, I was impressed with your analysis of the coded messages to come up with three locations for us to concentrate our attentions on this evening."

"Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson," she replied. "Sergeant Barnes should share in the compliment as he was quite skilled in determining which code was being used."

"Ah, yes, the Sergeant," he smiled, although his eyes remained neutral, if not a little guarded. "He does expend a great deal of effort in making himself indispensable. A word of caution, if I may ... the man has a rather unsavoury past that occasionally interferes with his effectiveness." She frowned and he changed his tone immediately, to something more conciliatory. "That's not to say he is untrustworthy. Rather, he is hampered by his reputation at times."

"I will take that under advisement, Mr. Laufeyson," she replied, applying a colder attitude to her voice to show her displeasure at his impropriety at talking about another gentleman behind his back. "Were you not implicated in your own scandal? I seem to recall it being in all of the newspapers, resulting in you being disowned by your foster father for a time."

"You are well-read, Miss Winston, and correct. I will leave you to your work."

He bowed his head slightly and walked away, his bearing still erect and proud. Once he was back on the elevator, Amelia shook her head at the impudence of the man. It made her wonder why he was included as an Avenger, considering his own past. A strange sound drew her attention to a system of tubes inside her office and she walked in, smiling when she recognized a pneumatic message tube system. A cylinder lay inside one of the tubes and she pulled it out, opened it, then retrieved the message from inside.

Miss Winston, your presence is needed in Dr. Banner's lab, 19th floor.

Since she wasn't sure how to return the message yet and didn't want to expend precious time in determining the procedure, Amelia hurried to the elevator, taking it to the 19th floor. When she entered, she was just as enthralled with this lab as she was with Mr. Stark's. This one, more scientific in appearance, with all sorts of chemistry experiments set up and in various stages of completion, appealed to the logical side of herself. A section of it was also set up as a small medical unit, complete with operating room, examination room, and what appeared to be a place for recovery.  Dr. Banner smiled as she approached him.

"I wanted to know how your medical skills are," he stated. "I'm aware you are an experienced hiker and outdoorswoman. Do you have emergency medical skills?"

"Very basic ones," she admitted. "I can set a splint on a simple break, treat a wound, and apply stitches to basic cuts."

"Well, it will have to do," he said. "In the event my other being is in charge I will be unable to provide medical assistance to any of the Avengers. Your predecessor also acted as my assistant, but she was also a graduate nurse. She got married and decided to start a family, making that her new vocation. Do you feel confident enough to provide emergency care?"

"I'll do my best," she answered. "Does anyone else have the training?"

"Mrs. Stark, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, but the latter two are often more injured than the others. Their abilities allow them to punish their bodies more, although they usually recover faster."

"Their abilities?" There was so much she didn't know that wasn't public knowledge.

"It's not my place to talk about them when they aren't present," said the shy doctor. "Let's just say, they both underwent a process that allows this recovery. I will let them explain further when they are ready." She nodded and turned to leave but he hailed her again. "The ground support force has their own medical unit. Since our main force of operatives do this in secret due to their special circumstances, the majority of their emergency medical care will fall to me, you and Mrs. Stark. I will spend time training you to be a nurse as part of your assignment and have every expectation that you will succeed."

"Thank you, Doctor," she answered, elated at the faith he was putting in her.

As she stepped out of the lab, she walked right into Sergeant Barnes, startling her with the strength of his being, as he seemed as immobile as a great tree. Gently, he held her arms in his hands until she was steady then let her go.

"Miss Winston, I apologize for startling you," he said, his deep voice a soft rumble. He looked at Dr. Banner's lab. "I take it you just learned of your additional duties as a nurse. I'm sure you will apply yourself to it in an exemplary manner."

"Thank you, Sergeant Barnes, I will do my best." They both stood for a moment, barely looking at each other then she nodded. "I better find out what more I can do to help the Avengers prepare."

"Very well, carry on."

He grimaced at his clumsy expression as she glided away, her graceful walk burning itself into his mind. It had been mere hours since he met the young librarian, less than an hour since the scent of her perfume tempted his olfactory senses and James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant of the United States Cavalry, on secondment to this special force, wondered if he could think of anything else but her until he saw her again. She was truly an exceptional woman, eagerly accepting the tasks being assigned to her. How was she not already married or at least promised to one of the numerous eligible bachelors from one of the more prominent New York families? Such a woman could be the making of any man, even him. For a moment he pictured her on his arm, a lovely beauty to cherish and protect. Then it was immediately countered by his own thoughts. If she knew your past she would turn away in disgust. With a barely disguised sigh he resumed his visit to Dr. Banner, who looked up at the imposing figure as he entered the lab.

"Sergeant is everything alright?" he asked, detecting some distress on the man's countenance.

"Yes, Doctor," he stated. "Do you have a moment to check the back of my shoulder? I experienced some discomfort there last night, and during my morning ablutions I detected some irritation in one of the scars when I looked in the mirror. I am almost out of the salve to soothe it, as well."

"Very well, go into the examination room and remove your upper garments," directed Banner.  "I will examine you when you are ready."

Stepping into the room, Barnes took his gloves, jacket and waistcoat off, then undid his tie, removing it along with the collar. Unbuttoning his trousers he pulled his shirt out, then undid the buttons on that garment, pulling it over his head, then removed his undershirt, before refastening the fly on the lower body garments. Sitting on the table he avoided looking at the metal arm and hand, a ghastly reminder of his time as a prisoner of HYDRA.

Dr. Banner knocked before coming into the room, acknowledging Barnes' reticence at exposing his body to another. His eyes were drawn to the steel prosthetic that had been melded with the soldier's shoulder, part of a gruesome experiment that saw the organization named after the mythological beast, attempt to turn a living breathing man into a biological automaton, fully under their control. The metal itself was as it always was, pristine, gleaming steel that hid an engineering marvel beneath its surface, despite its evil origins. With the soft touch of his profession, the doctor examined the scarring at the front of the shoulder portion of the prosthesis, looking up at the stoic man's face for signs of discomfort.

"The front seems to be normal," he murmured. "You haven't experienced any pain on the chest portion?"

"No, it's only in the back, in the area that is the least accessible to me," replied Barnes, solemnly.

Banner repositioned himself to the other side of the examination table then pulled a moveable lamp closer to Barnes' back to see better. He saw the irritation right away and gently palpated it, feeling the spike in skin temperature immediately as his fingertips grazed the skin's surface. Quelling the sigh that he almost made, Banner silently damned the men who inflicted this abomination on this good man. In their zeal to transform the Sergeant into something mechanical they had ignored many of the basic rules of medicine, starting with the one that all doctors should be a slave to; to do no harm to the patient.

"Is the salve still working?" asked Banner.

"Less and less," admitted Barnes. "I have had to apply more. What took a dab from my finger before, now takes the application of several repeated attempts. Steve has been helping apply it and noted the increase in temperature on the scars."

"Your body has become used to it, so it has become less effective. I've been working on two new salves, one using the aloe vera plant; the other honey. We can try one of them. I will take some time to compound one of them now. The other may have to wait until we return from tonight's excursion. You may get dressed now."

It took several minutes for Barnes to get dressed and come out to the lab from the examination area. He waited patiently as he watched Dr. Banner pull some stalks from a spiky looking plant, called aloe vera, that sat on a shelf near a window. First, he slit the stalks open then he pressed them gently, causing a liquid to seep out into a beaker. Next, he took a small amount of gelatin, and mixed it with glycerin, until it turned into a gel. After measuring out a small amount of the aloe vera juice he mixed it with 9 times the amount of distilled water, before stirring in a couple of drops of witch hazel, using that as a preservative. Finally, he combined the two compounds, stirring it gently to mix it well. Locating a small sterile jar, he poured the mixture into it.

"It will take a few days for it to thicken to the point where the substance will stick to the skin. Start with small amounts and smooth it in well. If it helps, I will make a larger amount for you, but we'll try it out first."

"Thank you, Doctor, I appreciate this," said Barnes, slipping the small jar into his inside pocket.

Leaving the lab, Barnes returned to the common area on the 21st floor, seeing members of his team discussing the layout of Pier 81. Parker, who knew the layout best was there, giving them his views on the optimal places to get the best cover once the bullets started to fly. As he approached, the Sergeant could hear the insulting tone of Loki's voice as he challenged the young Avenger.

"If you know this area so well, why aren't you with us?"

"You were there at breakfast, Loki," stated Barnes, glaring at the man. "He was assigned to watch a different pier in case Pier 81 was a misdirection. If nothing happens at Pier 84, I'm sure Peter will join us."  He addressed the young Avenger. "Any chance of your vigilante friend being around as well?"

"I wouldn't doubt it," replied Parker. "I'll send a note to his contact, advising him we'll be around."

"Every pair of hands helps. Are we all clear on our responsibilities tonight?" Everyone nodded, even Laufeyson, grudgingly. "Very well, make sure you eat well, you'll need your strength."

The others dispersed from the chairs as Barnes watched Amelia repairing a broken belt from Rogers' uniform, expertly resewing where his sword scabbard had pulled away from the belt. She had obviously undertaken such a repair before, perhaps for her father or brother, or maybe when she was on her tour of the Colorado Rocky Mountains, repairing a leather harness. Her versatility was evident as she noticed another portion of it had loosened. Without even asking, she proceeded to complete the repair.

"She is an accomplished woman," said Sam, who stood near him. "I've noticed her tackle several tasks this past hour, all of them with the same level of concentration and skillfulness. I am surprised she is unattached."

"Perhaps she seeks her own fulfillment first, before putting her needs second to that of a husband and family," murmured Barnes. "Although, any man fortunate enough to win her love should recognize her fine qualities and strive to keep her at his side as his equal, rather than under his thumb. A woman like that as a partner for a lifetime can make a good man great."

"We agree, sir," said the Falcon. "She is formidable in the best sense of the word." He looked at Stark who gestured for his attention. "Excuse me, Buck. Stark requires my presence."

After all the preparations were completed, an early dinner was served once again in the large dining room. This time Amelia sat beside Sergeant Barnes. It was obvious by her comportment that she was not unfamiliar with dining in fine company, as evidenced by Anthony Stark's inquiries to her.

"Miss Winston. I understand your father is a prominent citizen of Chicago. Would you share with the others his profession?"

She chewed her food, then lowered the utensils while she answered. "He is a prominent lawyer who has spent much of his career working with architects, helping them negotiate with the planning commissions in the city so that the artistic vision and functional requirements are both met. As you know, Chicago is the home of the Prairie School style of architecture, promoted or influenced by visionary architects like Frank Lloyd Wright, Alfred Caldwell and Marion Mahony Griffin, among others. I grew up visiting building sites with him and my brother, immersed in an atmosphere of creativity and purpose. We were included in many social gatherings of those people plus other progressive thinkers. Not once was I ever told that something wasn't ladylike or inappropriate. I speak three languages other than English, grew up riding horses, learned to fire a rifle, can build a campfire and a lean-to, and as I enlightened Dr. Banner this afternoon am capable of providing basic emergency first aid. I am always in search of understanding and illumination, finding it in many of the unique experiences my father has exposed me to. I attribute that to my father's belief in the liberality of my upbringing."

"That is why I recruited you," he beamed. "After reading the published account of your travels in the Colorado Rockies I was sure you would be a fine addition to our company.  Just by what I've witnessed today, you seem to be a capable individual."

"Here, here," said Sam Wilson, raising his glass of wine to her. "I agree fully with you, Anthony. I believe she has already made her mark on our society in more ways than one."

Others raised their glasses, including Sergeant Barnes, as they drank to her tenure with SHIELD. The meal was full of laughter and conversation that covered many topics. It ended when Jarvis appeared at the doorway and nodded at Stark in what appeared to be a silent signal. The older man nodded back and rose from the table.

"Well, the hour has arrived for us to perform our final preparations," he stated. "Meet on the roof at 8:25, complete with weapons. Miss Winston, you will film us prior to our boarding the airship, as well as when we lift off. Good luck, watch your backs, and let's stop HYDRA in their tracks." Several people chuckled, including Mrs. Stark and Stark grinned. "I'm a poet, a man of many talents."

He clapped his hands as both he and his wife went down to his mechanical lab. The others gathered at the elevator or walked down the stairs to their apartments to dress in their uniforms. Amelia went the furthest, to the 16th floor library to pick up the movie camera and tripod. She loaded the film, then placed several more film canisters in a pouch that she slung over her shoulder. Stepping into the elevator, she pressed the button for the 21st floor, going up alone. Mrs. Stark had already told her that the roof above that floor was accessible only by stairs. She climbed them easily, coming out to a full view of the city of New York, laid out in all of its glory, entranced by the large airship that was anchored at the edge of the roof. Fastening the camera to the tripod, she aimed it at the doorway from the stairwell, planning to film everyone as they came outside. The first to arrive was Sam Wilson, complete with a falcon on a leather gauntlet on his arm. He was also armed with pistols, looking very intimidating. He was followed by the brothers, Thor and Loki, each dressed in dark, almost black clothing, both with swords, although Thor also carried a large club in one hand. Thor came straight to Amelia, offering his hand to her.

"I apologize for not introducing myself sooner," he said, his voice a pleasant baritone. "I hope to spend more time making your acquaintance."

Before she could answer Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes appeared, both of them wearing the cavalry uniform of the United States Army. The uniforms were different than the traditional navy blue and grey one that Amelia was used to but just as dashing, even in their olive drab colour. Captain Rogers made certain to acknowledge her for the repair to his scabbard and belt. It was difficult for Amelia not to stare at Sergeant Barnes, as he stood almost regally, his senses fully alert, waiting for the others to arrive. He had a Springfield rifle slung over his back, as well as a sidearm. Within moments Natasha, Clint, Wanda and Vision arrived, each of them wearing close fitting garments that seemed more like what circus performers would wear. The two women wore snug breeches that showed off the shape of their legs. In any other mixed company, it would almost be considered scandalous but for this society, it seemed fitting. Both of them were armed with pistols and knives, while Barton carried a bow and quiver of arrows.  Vision, surprisingly had no visible weapons, but Amelia had learned he had considerable skill in firearms. The young Avenger, Peter Parker, arrived, also wearing a dark red and navy suit, but he wore a close-fitting knapsack on his back, with flexible copper tubing that was molded to his arms, ending just before his wrists. With sudden realization, Amelia understood that Peter was the man behind the mask of the Spider Crawler, able to create his own spider webs that could propel him through the air. His exploits had been published in the newspaper for several years but never had she thought the man in the mask would be so young. He smiled at her, then placed the covering over his face.

"His aunt worries about him, so we agreed to make his identity secret," said Mrs. Stark, standing next to Amelia. She hadn't even noticed the older woman's arrival. "There are some in his neighbourhood who see his Spider identity as a threat to the safety of citizens. He is dangerous but only to those who are on the wrong side of the law. His heart and intentions are pure."

"Where is Mr. Stark?" asked Amelia, "and Doctor Banner?"

"Doctor Banner is already on his way there," said Mrs. Stark. "He is always concerned about his anticipation causing him to lose control on the trip over, so he goes alone. As for Anthony ... you'll see. He does like to make an entrance."

The sound of roaring grew louder as it seemed something was rising from the side of the building to the roof. Suddenly, the iron suit that Amelia saw in the cupboard appeared as it lifted into the air, looking down at all of them. It seemed to be powered by glowing pads on the hands and feet of the suit, but it was definitely hovering, and Amelia had to restrain herself from clapping her hands with glee.

With Stark's appearance the others filed onto the airship and Amelia turned the tripod towards the lighter than air transport. The door attendant, Hogan, and two other men loosened the ropes that held it in place, and it raised up in the air, with Vision at the controls. Keeping the camera on it, until it was lost in night sky, Amelia stopped filming then looked at Mrs. Stark, puzzled by the older woman's worried countenance.

"Is everything alright?"

"Oh, I just worry every time," she said. "Come, I'll help you return these to Anthony's lab. We'll have a cup of tea while we wait. Hogan will be there, with his ground force, and will telephone us if there are any problems. This is the hard part, the waiting."

Mrs. Stark prepared the tea herself, explaining the cook and maid were dismissed for the evening. Bringing it out on a tray the two women settled in the darkened great room in front of the window that looked in the direction of Hell's Kitchen. Pulling her pocket watch out of her skirt pocket to check the time, Mrs. Stark looked ominously at Amelia.

"8:59," she stated.

Two minutes later it began as they witnessed the fireworks from Pier 84 and the flaming arrow from Pier 76 go off simultaneously. Both women stood up, realizing that it had been a trap, as it appeared that HYDRA was at all three piers and the Avengers were spread too thin. Hearing the phone ring, Mrs. Stark answered it immediately.

"I'll contact Fury for more backup, but they won't get there for some time, Hogan," she said. "Do what you can to help."

Turning the crank, she asked the operator to connect her with a number. Amelia didn't even hear what the number was or who Mrs. Stark spoke to, as she was watching the flashes of light from the piers, a feeling of dread filling her. Through the windows she could hear the sound of gunfire in the distance. A few moments later, the older woman was by her side and Amelia felt a hand grasping hers. Time seemed to slow as the two women listened to the battle for some time, occasionally seeing the flash of gunfire. There was the sound of heavier gunfire reaching them, and a small smile appeared on Mrs. Stark's face.

"Thank you, Fury," she whispered. "He's sent in the cavalry, probably Captain Rogers' and Sergeant Barnes' old unit. They are loyal to those two, even though neither of them is officially in the unit anymore. Let's hope it's in time."

"How could I have missed the clues?" Amelia blurted out the words. "The way the cryptograms were worded we couldn't tell if it was one pier or all three that were the target."

"Do not blame yourself." Mrs. Stark squeezed the younger woman's hand. "It's what HYDRA does best, cause chaos. We should go get the medical supplies and bring them up here as they will land on the roof. I'll have to cover the furniture with sheets as there is bound to be blood. Quickly, you head for the medical lab while I get the sheets. I'll notify the ground force medical staff to expect injuries. Their people will be brought in by ambulance."

It gave Amelia something else to think about as she ran down the stairwells to the 19th floor. As she burst inside, she saw that Dr. Banner had already anticipated the need for medical supplies since he had piled a cart high with dressings, antiseptic, medical instruments and anything else they might need. Pushing it to the elevator, Amelia took it up to the 21st floor then joined Mrs. Stark in covering the furniture in anticipation of wounded. A phone call from Hogan interrupted them with word that they would be lifting off shortly and would be landing in 30 minutes. While they waited, both women donned a clean gown over their clothing, then added an apron to it to provide extra protection.

Anthony Stark landed first, his boots thudding on the rooftop, then he quickly shed the components of his suit. As two other men appeared the three of them grasped the ropes dangling from the airship, since Hogan was now operating it. The moment it touched down, Vision carried Wanda out in his arms, taking her directly inside to Mrs. Stark. Thor and Loki held each other up but waved off any help. Natasha and Hawkeye limped in together. Amelia approached them but was also waved off.

"We're fine," gasped Natasha, "just roughed up a little. Peter needs help."

She looked past them to see Sergeant Barnes, his uniform torn and bloody, carrying an unconscious Parker in his arms. Leading him to the table in front of the bookshelf, Amelia washed her hands in a large bowl of water with carbolic soap while looking up at the tall soldier, his face struggling to mask his concern. Drying her hands she slipped on the smallest pair of rubber gloves she could find, thanking Dr. Banner for being thorough in his preparations and taking a clean working environment seriously.

"He's been shot," said Barnes, sombrely. "Took a bullet meant for me. It's in his shoulder. If you give me a moment, I'll assist you."

"Are you hurt?" She looked at him questioningly.

"Mostly my pride," he admitted. "We must have missed a cryptogram that stated all three piers were being used. Doesn't matter. I told you HYDRA was trouble and they proved it once more."

Moments later he was back, his uniform jacket and outer shirt removed, but wearing a sleeveless undershirt that revealed his metal shoulder and arm. Amelia glanced at it but said nothing, turning her attention back to Peter. Grabbing some cloths she poured antiseptic over one and began to clean the wound. Aware that Sergeant Barnes was putting on a gown and apron, then washing his hands, she tried to focus on the task at hand. When he stood beside her as he was drying his hands, he leaned close and spoke calmly.

"He'll be alright. He's strong in heart and mind. In many ways, he's the best of us for he was fighting the darkness for over five years on his own, since he was 14 years old and newly orphaned. It was chance that brought him into our company but he is one of our best.  Keep pressure on the wound while I open a package of instruments to remove the bullet."

She did as she was told then watched and listened as he expertly demonstrated the process of extracting a bullet. When he pulled it out and dropped it in a small bowl, he looked at the tray of supplies and found a wax paper envelope. Inside was a round disc that he applied to the wound.

"It's a special mixture of herbs that Dr. Banner developed to draw infection from the blood and the wound. It will keep it from becoming septic and help it heal."

Then he packed a dressing on it, wrapping gauze around the shoulders to keep it in place. Carefully, he lifted the young man from the table and carried him to one of the couches, covering him up with a sheet. Returning to the table he looked at the two bowls.

"If you could dispose of the old water, clean the bowls with carbolic soap and fill them up with hot water we'll treat our next patient." He looked over to where Natasha and Clint still sat, motioning with his head for them to be treated next. As Amelia changed the water, he changed the sheet on the table, then looked at Natasha, who approached gingerly.

"I'm fine, Buck, really," she said, unconvincingly.

Placing his hands on her ribcage he pressed lightly, moving his hands around her middle drawing gasps of pain from her.

"I thought so," he stated, with some resignation evident in his voice. "Take your jacket, blouse and corset off. You can leave your chemise on."

Displaying a little bit of reluctance, she began to undo her jacket, then Clint helped her get it off, telling her to listen to Buck. Her blouse came off, then her corset and she sat in her chemise, struggling to keep a stoic face. Sergeant Barnes shook his head ruefully.

"You took on two at once, didn't you?" he asked, without judgement. "One held you while the other punched you repeatedly. They don't play nice, Natasha. You have to be more careful."

"I sent one of them to his knees," she said. "It will be a while before he can try to have children."

She laughed then cried in pain. Barnes smiled, then looked for some envelopes, finding them and handing them to Clint.

"Willow bark tea, taken with food," he said. "No corset until the pain is gone, make sure she sleeps upright, and gets up to walk around breathing as deeply as she can. When Banner is back to normal, you come and see him."

He gestured to Clint who shook his head.

"I'm fine, really, and I know, as well as you do, what to do," stated the archer, who gazed at Natasha with affection. "Come on, my darling, let's get you changed into something more comfortable."

Barnes nodded then watched as the pair hobbled away towards the elevator. Amelia returned with a clean bowl of water, and stood waiting. Everyone else had been treated, except Barnes.

"Sit on the table," she ordered.

"I'm alright."

"You're bleeding through your apron and onto the floor. Now sit."

He sat on the table facing her, allowing her to remove the apron and gown. His undershirt was stained with blood around what was obviously a sword wound. Lowering his suspenders he allowed her to cut his undershirt off with scissors, revealing a well developed chest and abdomen, the upper portions covered in a soft-looking layer of dark hair. The wound was oozing blood.  Amelia produced a dressing, asking him to press it against the opening.

"You don't need to treat it," he began. "By tomorrow it will be healed."

"How is that possible?" she asked, as she began to wash her hands. He looked elsewhere, seeming reluctant to answer, and she stood closer to him, her dark eyes pleading. "Sergeant, please tell me."

He looked at his two disparate hands, one flesh and one metal, trying to come up with the words that he feared would mark him as something inhuman in her eyes. Then she touched his flesh hand with hers and his heart almost stopped at how soft and cool it felt. His eyes met hers, but he didn't see fear, only curiosity and compassion.

"I was a prisoner of HYDRA after our cavalry unit was ambushed when we intervened on a range war in Wyoming, about five years ago. I was shot multiple times, three in my left arm alone. They treated me for my injuries, and I thought it was to use me as a hostage to exchange for some of their soldiers that had been taken prisoner. I was so wrong. They were looking for test subjects, in an experiment to change the face of warfare. It was their intent to create a biological automaton, a living breathing person with mechanical parts who was completely under their control. When the wounds to my left arm turned gangrenous, I became their first subject. They amputated my arm then fashioned this monstrosity to take its place, attaching it to my bones. I was injected with multiple substances, all of them burning in my veins, while also being subject to incredible torture. Dr. Banner thinks it changed how my body reacts to extreme situations, like the madness of war, making me stronger, faster, and allowing the body to heal itself at an accelerated rate. Other than a bullet to the brain or the heart, I can survive just about any injury or infection. So, you don't have to do anything to this wound, other than dress it and fasten a bandage. In the morning it will have healed. In a week, the scar will be almost gone."

"How did you escape?" she asked, her hand still on his.

"Three weeks after I was taken, Steve was also taken prisoner, but he didn't have any injuries, so they injected him just to see what it would do to a healthy man. Within days, he grew in height and weight. The quickness of the transformation surprised them, and although they expected him to be changed in strength he hid his new abilities, waiting for the perfect moment to affect his escape. When he came for me, I didn't know who I was or what had happened to me, but he wouldn't leave me and practically carried me in his arms to safety."

He stopped at that moment, not wanting to share the whole truth with her, certain that if he did, she would reject him for the monster he was accused of being. But she didn't press him for more. Instead, she did as he asked, cleaning the wound, then placing a dressing on it, before wrapping a bandage around his waist. As she performed the last task her head was close enough to his body that he could smell her perfume.

"What is that scent that you wear?" he asked softly.

"Cœur de Jeannette," she answered. "I don't use much."

"It's lovely, I like it."

"Thank you." She smiled shyly, as she pinned the bandage together. "There you go, Sergeant Barnes. All done." She looked at the mess around them. "I'll clean up. You rest. I'm glad you're alright."

He accepted her words, then slid off the table. After gathering his clothes in the crook of one arm, he walked over to the couch, then gently picked Peter up, cradling the younger man in his arms. Instead of the elevator he used the stairs, and she watched him step down until she couldn't see him anymore. Turning back to the great room, she saw Mrs. Stark was already cleaning up, gathering the bloody sheets and placing them to soak in the laundry room tub. With the bowl of clean water that was left, Amelia cleaned the floor where Sergeant Barnes had bled, then took both bowls to the kitchen, scrubbing them in hot soapy water. She returned to the great room, sat on one of the armchairs, and wept, releasing the intensity of the evening. Feeling the warm arms of Mrs. Stark around her she bent her head to the other woman's shoulder.

"I was so afraid," she whispered. "I don't know if I can do this."

"I know, but you performed admirably," replied Mrs. Stark. "It isn't always like this but when it is, it's difficult. Try to sleep and see if the morning light gives you a different perspective. We believe in you, and you have a gentle manner that is soothing. Our heroes deserve that much, don't you think?"

Amelia nodded then pulled herself off of the chair. Taking the elevator down to her floor, she entered her room and disrobed, then pulled her hairpins out, running her fingers through the small knots that had formed. As she brushed her hair, she thought of how close she was to Sergeant Barnes unclothed chest, and how dispassionate he had been during her treatment of him. Still, it had been an almost intimate moment that had her recalling the heat that radiated from him as well as the manly scent that came through the smell of sweat, gunpowder and blood. The metal arm and shoulder had surprised her but instead of fear she found herself full of admiration for what the man had gone through. That he was a caring gentle man at heart was evident by how he treated Peter, followed by how he carried him in his arms down the stairs as easily as if the young man was a small child. Mrs. Stark was right. The heroes who formed the heart of SHIELD put their lives and wellbeing on the line, willingly. Certainly, she could learn to deal with the intensity of the situation if it meant that it comforted these brave individuals just a little. She could do this; for them.

Part 3>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[commander-wame]

☼ - Wame

☾ - Eldrid

☆ - Gixi

years after dreaming up a timeline for the main three i finally made one 👍

+ more context under the cut! anything commander-y in story not mentioned is glued onto Wame

Wame doesn't act on his Slaying a Dragon destiny for a long time. He needs a lot more guidance regaining his strength and working on his social skills than most other saplings before he can leave the Grove. Pale Tree's and Caithe's insistence just leave him feeling more pessimistic about the whole ordeal, he leaves to live in Cathal finding his calling as a ranger training Fern Hounds. His older brother Fehine is teach him in Mender skills.

Pre Personal Story

Wame and Eldrid awoke the same day. Wame first during noon, but his pod was so high up that his first meeting with the ground would've been his last if El hadn't found him slowly bleeding out 12 hours later when she awoke during night. They dreamt of each other, they recognise each other. Wame dreamt of slaying a dragon and saw Eldrid die a firey death. Due to his injuries to his spine and head he ended up Soundless against his will. Eldrid barely remembers anything save for a few glimpses, including Wame's face.

Eldrid is more adventurous and has slowly built a party of friends. Like lots of sylvari, she's obsessed with knighthood and wants to be one herself. She always visits Wame before and after an adventure. She wants a Wyld Hunt of her own, but never gets one. Neither of them admit to romantic feelings, being unable to feel each others emotions due to Wame' soundlessness.

Gixi is having a horrible teenage / young adulthood. School was a terribly rough time and the one college that accepted her booted her out after a few weeks due to 'incompetence'. Slowly cultivating mesmer skills in her spare time, but really wants to be academically succesful like an asura is 'supposed' to be.

Weeks go by and Wame is worried, and finally starts following his Hunt, but only really in hopes of finding El. During his travels he starts appreciating and caring for Tyria more. He's still pretty sure he'll be dead before reaching Zhaitan though. He joins Whispers, thinking their tracking skills and hidden knowledge might help him find El.

Personal Story + Lws1 + Lws2

Eldrid left one day and didn't come back. Unbeknowst to everyone else, her entire party was killed fighting creatures from the Mists. She was sucked into the portal the creatures came from.

Gixi turns out a pretty talented mesmer but still feels useless. Whispers ends up recruiting her, after Tibalts death she ends up becoming Wame's newbie partner. She has 0 confidence in herself. Wame and Gixi become good friends, Gixi gains Some confidence (but not a lot).

With Zhaitan dead, Wame is now fully invested in his, Trahearne's and Caithe's cause. Hasn't lost hope of finding Eldrid yet, but chances of her being alive start feeling more slim.

Gixi is now a very active Whispers agent. Wame is collecting friends (future Dragon's Watch) like pokemon. He doesn't tell them about Eldrid. The lead-up to HoT and its implications has him worrying that Eldrid ended up in the wrong part of the jungle.

Eldrid is ???.

Wame was captured and Mordrem Podded in Tangled Depths. Managed to resist and escape just about, but physically altered halfway through his Mordremisation. Finds his first pet Honeybee (fern hound) dead. Has a terribly hard time convincing Pact members and friends not to kill him on sight.

HoT

Very painful no good time. Gixi was on a crashed airship but survived. Mostly stayed in Verdant Brink scouting out survivors and getting them to camps unnoticed.

Finds a juvenile Smokescale, names her Sparkfly.

Eir's dead. Had to kill Trahearne. Life sucks but we keep trucking for Tyria's sake.

Eldrid meanwhile popped back into Tyria, extremely confused with no memories of what happened in the Mists. All she knows is that she feels angrier than ever and there's creepy voices in her head. It concerns her greatly that they sound like her dead friends, writes this off as grief. She hears about a commander with her dear friend's name, desperately wants to see him again. Follows rumours and murmurs of his presence best she can, but with no way to contact him ends up far behind.

Lws3 + PoF before the Departing

After the events of HoT, Wame 100% thinks Eldrid is long dead. Finds solace in taking care of Aurene's egg and eventually Aurene herself, being the only creature nearby who doesn't have a reference of what he looked like before the jungle, simply looking at him with love and happiness.

Whispers remember El from Wame's description of her. They don't trust her casually popping back into existence just like that and think something's up. Gixi is tasked with tracking and observing her, and if need be to keep her away from Wame if she gets too close. Gixi knows abt Wame's desire to find Eldrid and feels incredibly guilty, but ultimately doesn't fully trust her either.

Eldrid gains a reputation as the Rosewood Knight on her travels. Noble and kind with devastatingly high skill in combat and helping those in need, fighting with a rage and strange new magic people don't want see up close.

While following Eldrid still, Gixi was killed in the desert and promptly got Awakened by Joko's forces. On the grounds of her being asura, she's sent to Rata Primus. She... actually isn't too mad about this. Someone finally thinks she's useful for traditional asura stuff, like portals. It's nice to feel appreciated in the way you've always dreamed of even though you're dead?

PoF after the Departing

Eldrid followed Wame into the desert, FINALLY catches up with him just as he's about to be barbequed by the God of War himself. Heroically gets herself barbequed instead. Wame is now tripple traumatised (Aurene kidnapped + someone he loves who he thought died, now actually dying right in front of him + being horribly burned himself). Oh wow Eldrid dying a firey death in his dream was a prophecy. That Sucks.

Wame wakes up to horrible pain, burn marks, and Eldrid rising from the dead. 1 Tender mutual confession later and they're now dearhearts. Turns out she's still too angry about dying right before properly seeing Wame again and couldn't let that go. Kills God about it (mostly to save people but also out of spite). Wame is stressed about being unable help out, but has to recover manually instead of death-resurrection instantly.

Rytlock keeps his mouth shut about having seen Eldrid in the Mists. He didn't think the rampaging incoherent entity was a person. He awkwardly tries to help her with her new revenant powers she also got in the Mists.

Gixi, after Joko's death, now a free awakened, has a personality freeing and changing breakdown. Fully a mesmer master now that she knows her full abilities and can't get tired because she's a walking corpse. Glamours herself up to look alive. Isn't sure whether she feels happier or acts it.

Lws4

Wame is back on his feet. Eldrid is learning to control her rage and her powers. No time for dates all time for kicking Joko where it hurts.

Bangar shot Wame in the face. Wame lost his eye about, seeing as it was a Dragon Killing Bow and Dragon Killing Arrow. Eldrid, being the only sylvari nearby, tried her best to fix his face while he was recovering. She wasn't very good at it. Wame loses the eye but doesn't mind, just mad at Bangar.

IBS

Wame and Eldrid were having a decently relaxed time getting to know each other again and recovering from the trauma that was. Everything. Before charr civil war broke out. No time for dates again.

Gixi joins everyone in EotN and mostly stays there to help out, fascinated by Aurene and keeping Taimi and Gorrik company. Gixi still glamours herself but finally fully knows who she is. She likes being loud and happy and pranking people where possible. Having lived all her life in anxiety, she now wants to not care about what others think at ALL.

Killing Soo-Won luckily set Eldrid free without needing to kill her, but it nearly got to that point.

EoD

Turns out the voices in Eldrid's head weren't JUST her dead friends and restless spirits. Also the Void! Yippee! She turns into an incoherent powerful corrupted mess (again. but she doesn't remember the Mists). Wame and Gixi are having a no good time trying to not kill Eldrid (who seems the most powerful and clever of those corrupted). She always wanted a powerful destiny, but this isn't what she meant.

After that ordeal it's FINALLY time for some dates.

Eldrid having been the one who died and got better, received the honour of having Peitha in her head. Sometimes Peitha will slip into Wame's mind just to mess with him a bit and freak him out. Eldrid trusts Peitha and they both might feel wlw about it.

SotO

Wame would've liked some more chill time together but they all felt the itch of wanting to do Something. Rumours of strange people and portals sounded like a nice getaway. Ah crap.

Gixi wants IN on being part of a secret wizard society. WHY wasn't she invited. She bonds with Zojja.

[more tba when the story progresses]

[psalacanthea]

this is for everyone but mostly @tadpole-apocalypse who is of the very correct opinion that Astarion's sibling Petras is in dire need of bullying. I happen to agree, so I took a small break to write something in post-game. :P (is spoilery for my current fic but not hugely)

...

Astarion couldn’t be back soon enough.

People were trying to get Zynatheri to decide things, and utilize her power and parcel out judgments, and she just didn’t want to!  The way she’d explained it to Astarion was most sensible.  They were making a society of vampires.  The politics were going to be corrupt!  Why not start the corruption from the top, where it belonged?  She’d much rather be his puppet than do work.

And now Petras had showed up, knowing Astarion was gone, and demanded an audience.

She’d already been in the bath, of course, which meant she’d had to heave herself out, throw on some slippers and her robe, and storm down to the meeting room.  And then on top of that inconvenience, the part of the palace they did have access to was massive!  Enormous ebon corridors where every step echoed, gigantic frescoes of her horrible ancestors and their horrible spider goddess, every surface slick and shiny obsidian.  Even the smallest light penetrated far here.

Echoes, too, which she rather thought was the point– every single sound carried.

Dwarfed by the architecture, a clammy bite to the air making her skin prickle, Zyn passed through the hall and into a freshly emptied chamber.  The last of the crumbled stone had been moved, the bowed-in stone wall on the left side propped up and tidied up as best as they could.  It still looked…rough, but they had seven– six now– thousand vampires to look after.  Cosmetics were still a far distant concern.

Before they could try to hire stonemasons or wizards, they had to ensure said professionals wouldn’t be eaten the moment they stepped into the city.

It was rather touch and go.

Passing by a low torch, Zyn clutched at her robe, annoyance turning into frustration and amusement as she mulled over the irritating arrival.  Of course.  The instant he found out Astarion had left on an expedition to scout further into the city, Petras came to poke at her.  After all, she was a surefire way to draw Astarion’s attention.

And Petras very much did want Astarion’s attention, like any annoying little brother.

Not that she knew much about siblings.

In the antechamber outside of the meeting room, a huge vaulted space of ebon columns and recessed ornate sconces of blackened iron, Zyn paused.  She tucked her fingers into the component pouch at her belt, searching within until she found her sending wire.  Untangling it from the mess, she lifted it to her lips and hummed softly into it until it vibrated in her palm.

Closing her eyes, she sent her voice to her beloved.  “Petras has come to try something.  Little schemer.  I’m going to offend him terribly, so please be prepared.  I love you, dearest, so be careful.”

While she waited for a response, she tucked her wire back away.

Astarion’s voice reached her mind within a few moments.  “And I love you.  If he dies, he dies, but do try to keep him alive?  We need him to do the work we won’t.”

He’d managed to just hit twenty five that time!  Oh, excellently done.  His rhythm and pitch might be horrid at best, but her darling could handle a bit of wordplay.  

Steeling herself with that slightest snatch of Astarion’s voice to comfort her, Zynatheri began to do something she had to do so rarely now.  She was going to play a part.  Glad she hadn’t gotten dressed, she loosened the neck of her dark green, velvet-trimmed robe, letting it slide off of her shoulder, lazy and careless.  She tugged out the comb in her hair, letting it untwist, uncoil down to her ankles.  The delicate golden comb went behind her ear, contrasting the silver of her swaying hair.

Lazy, idle, uncaring- decorative.

An easy enough ruse.

With the embroidered silk of her robe sliding up her arms, she reached up and pushed open the doors.  Normally they were left open because they were so bloody big.  Petras must have closed them behind himself, for some petty purpo–

“Forgive me, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

The doors were pulled away from her hands, her weight shifting dangerously, and although she knew it would likely aid in making a complete ass of Petras, she still couldn’t bring herself to fall into his arms.  Yuck.  Avoiding his hands, she caught herself and stepped back, staring at him through the now-open doors.

Gods.

She looked at him critically for just a moment– hair unfortunately similar to Astarion’s again, despite the fact that he didn’t have the curls for it.  He was wearing his nicer set of clothes, which should have been respectful, but wasn’t.  All it meant to her was that he really was trying something.

“Yes, that’s clear,” she said sardonically.  His strength was severely lacking in areas other than physical.  A complete lack of charm, for one.

And he wanted to be Astarion?

The very idea was laughable.

Petras stepped back politely from the doors.  “I’m sorry, I should have reassured you.  There was no reason to hurry.”

Why was he being nice?

Ew.

“I didn’t,” she replied, swanning past him and heading for the far end of the table, where her and Astarion’s seats overlooked the rest.

“So you intended to meet me in…wearing that?”

Hells, she wanted to put a hole in him.  Or some lightning.  “I wear what I like in my home.  Please leave your notions of ‘society’ behind.  That world rejected you.”  She turned at the head of the table with a flare of her robe, hair annoyingly clinging and twisting.

Gods, right, this was why she kept her hair up or shorter.  Ugh.  It was so heavy.  “I would rather speak of a new world.  One that we create.”  She sank into her chair, gesturing for him to take his.

Much further down the table.

But instead, in some sort of power play, he walked up the line of chairs, running his doughy hand along each one.  Zynatheri tried not to be judgemental, but she was a bit of a snob when it came to hands.  His fingers were short, and not tapered elegantly.  They were repulsive in a way she hadn’t known she’d felt until they were attached to the man himself.

Now every time she saw someone with similar digits she would have no choice but to be disgusted.

“You cut your hair again.  I thought you’d been so determined to grow your hair out, now that you’re a ‘full vampire’ at last,”  Zyn said, refusing to be cowed when he leaned on top of Dal’s chair and stared down at her.  Sometimes it was difficult being the lone mortal.  

“You can’t still be holding a grudge over that,” he said, annoyance touching his face.  He even leaned back a little, his body language betraying his attempt to manipulate her by seeming friendly.  Well, more than friendly. "I didn't mean to kill them."

"But you did."

Here she’d thought he was coming to whine and threaten, but instead he was attempting seduction.  As much as these siblings of her lover infuriated her, she felt a deep and profound sympathy for them all.  They had all been harmed in the same ways, and had some of the same behaviors, and she could not help but give them grace.  Which was Astarion’s fault.  He was the one who had softened her heart to his past suffering, after all.

Was it any wonder that concern now extended to his siblings?

It was a strange sensation, the simultaneous desire to protect and care for them, mixed with the constant desire to cause them harm– bully them– both mentally and physically.  Was that what they called…siblings?  If so, a great many things she had read and witnessed in her life suddenly made much more sense.

 All of that to say, she was worried that if Petras was trying to seduce her, there was something very wrong with him.  That was dangerous.  The family, co-ruler, victim and tormenter both dynamic they all had was precarious, volatile.  If it collapsed, so would their delicate, tenuous grasp on the spawn in the city.

That might mean death for them all.

“Whatever you need, if it’s reasonable, I won’t block you– in fact, I’ll help you.  There’s no need for this,” Zyn said firmly, hoping that was all it was.  Maneuvering, and not…lust or a desire for her blood.  If it was bloodlust she could just smack him silly and not feel guilty. "I have no desire to pretend we're friendly."

A well-placed bit of vicious mockery and she’d have him sobbing.

In response, he leaned towards her, Zyn holding her ground with annoyance as he came closer.  When his hand darted out, grabbing her by the neck, she only felt relief.  Oh, good.  He’d come to do something stupid.

Petras glared down his nose at her.  “Listen here, cattle.  You’re going to watch your tone and do what I say, or I’ll snap this pretty neck of yours.”

Coming from Astarion that would have been attractive and threatening; Petras just managed sullen and bossy.  Hardly impressive.  Plus, the cattle thing, which was stunningly unattractive.  She stared at him flatly, eyes half-lidded, lips pursing into a line.  His hand tightened, fingers pressing into the sides of her neck.

Ugh, no, if she didn’t retaliate he’d ruin choking for her with those shapeless, ugly hands of his.

Rather than say something snide, she gathered her rising anger and breath while she still could, and screamed directly in his face.  The thuderwave hit him full-force, and Petras went arse over teakettle, hand ripped from her throat as he slammed into the heavy stone chair and then went tumbling to the black tile, landing heavily on his back and skidding.

“That’s it?!” she demanded, voice fighting with the echoes of her scream.  Zynatheri  shot to her feet and stomped after him, eyes blazing with fury.  “All of this just to do your best Cazador impression and attack me?  You pissing malcontent!  You whey-blooded simpleton!  Astarion isn’t stupid and your plan isn’t clever.  He’d uncover what you've done, and then you'll be dead!”

Petras pulled himself up to his elbows abruptly, hair just cut back into his old mimicry of Astarion’s falling into his face, making him look all the more stupid.  “I am fully capable of hiding a body!” he retorted, vibrating with pure offense.

Her own fury rose in tandem.  How dare he think for even a moment he’d be capable of killing her?!  “Even if you failed your way into success, he would never stop until he found out what had happened to me,” Zynatheri retorted, stepping in and kicking him back down to the floor, her hands balled up in her robe.  He started to struggle back up but she stepped in, planting her foot and shifting all her weight onto it. 

She ground her heel into his chest.

“You will listen to me.  Astarion’s survival is all that matters to me, and you being content enough not to do anything foolish is important to me because of that.”

His scarlet eyes blazed, lips pulled into a sour, furious grimace.

“All of us are better off because you are alive, so stop trying to die,” she said, dragging her foot across his chest as she pulled back, heel pressing the whole way.  Dropping her robe, she smoothed her hands down her soft hips, glaring down at Petras.  “But never forget– you are beneath me.”  She smiled, slow and mocking, their eyes holding with a vibrant intensity.  “So stay beneath me, or I might notice you when I’m feeling less…altruistic.  Your oafish presence offends me.”

His fingers clenched into fists.  “How dare you.  Let go of me!”

“Let go of you? You are entirely free to go,” she said, gesturing with one hand.  “Have you forgotten where the door is, I wonder?  What a very poor memory you have, Petras.  You attacked me.  Don’t play the victim.”

Why the Hells was he still lying on the floor?  She wasn’t even that strong, she couldn’t have kicked him hard enough to do any damage.  What a dramatic little twit.

Well, if he wasn’t going to leave first–

It was petty to step on his shoulder on her way past him, but she did it anyway.  A test, perhaps, to see if he would retaliate, but that was just an excuse.  The little arse had annoyed her.

He made a small sound in the back of her throat as she ground her weight into his shoulder, but that was all she heard apart from the soft echo of her own footsteps.  When she glanced back at the exit to the meeting room, he had pulled up to sit and was staring at her, rage barely contained.  She smiled, sweetly.

“Next time your humiliation will be public.”

Oddly, he didn’t snap back immediately, but the intensity of his stare grew all the more intense and venomous.  Perhaps he was learning some self-control.  When he spoke at last, it was mocking.  “I can wait.  Sooner or later, Astarion will tire of playing with his food and you’ll be just as dead.”

Was he trying to get her to smack him around more?  Ugh.  As if she was going to rise to such poorly crafted bait.

“See yourself out, little brother!” she sang mockingly, spinning dramatically and swanning through the doors.

It was an excellent exit despite the insults he was shouting after her, which she was quite smug about. Zynatheri shuffled through the antechamber, yanking her hair over her shoulder so it would stop twisting around her ankles.  Very good, very dramatic, hair like this, but she’d forgotten what a nuisance it was.  Well, Zyn might as well go chop it off.

Part of her did regret not teaching the brat more of a lesson, but– wait.

Had he been trying to get her to slap him around a bit more?  Was that all on purpose?  If so, that meant…oh dear.

Malice and misfortune, of course it was.

Zynatheri knew it was a waste of what power her poor body could handle channeling in a day, but Astarion was gone and she needed someone to share this with.  Without him, what was the point in anything?  If she couldn’t speak with him, why speak at all?

In her haste, mirth bubbling like a spring, mixed with the delight of sheer horror, Zyn Sent to her beloved without counting the words.  “Darling, oh my beloved viper!  My sanguine heart.  Come home, I’m suffering.  I may have just accidentally fed one of your brother’s fetishes.  Sorry–”

Her fingers clutched around the tangle of wire in annoyance as she was cut off, lips pursing.

“Well,” Astarion responded in her mind, highly amused, “I suppose curiosity killed my little fox, didn’t it?  Poor darling.  I’ll be home before you know it.”

Pouting to herself, she went skulking back to her bath to scrub the feel of his hand from her skin.  All she could do was hope she was wrong, and hope it never happened again.  Zynatheri had a small, sneaking suspicion that this was far from over, however.  Gods and archdevils, she wanted to kick the little pissant around some more.

But if he liked it...

Ugh, having siblings was complicated.

[chiisanakurisu]

Amagüestu

Hi y'all, it's been a while since I last shared anything of my writings, so there is a fragment of the current story I'm working on, which was submitted to @gigagendergt's Gt Autumn writing contest 😊

CW: slight mention of death, mentions of natural disasters, indirect mention of transphobia

“You know, I’ve thought about organizing a little Amagüestu party, just for the four of us.”

It was an unusually warm October evening. I was in the porch, chatting with Carmina while Tommy played with Sophie by the vegetables garden.

“Amagüestu?”

“You know, roasted chestnuts, sweet cider…”

“I know what Amagüestu is!” I replied, slightly annoyed, “It’s just…I don’t think it’s the best idea right now, Carmina”.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well…I don’t think it’s the moment to celebrate anything, the way things are. After what happened and how we have been struggling…I don’t see a reason why it would be appropriate”.

The old woman chuckled. “Fía, the only reason we need to celebrate is us. We are here, and we are together. And precisely because of the way things are we need it. Don’t you think we all have earned a bit of joy?” Carmina signalled subtly at the two kids playing a few meters away.

I glanced at them, and my heart instantly felt warmer. A chubby teenager boy, holding a child no bigger than his palm and wrestling her with his other hand ever so gently. If it weren’t for the abyssal size difference, anyone would have thought they were siblings. And truth was, Tommy had turned out to be like an older brother for littlest Sophie.

Even if I wasn’t in the mood for a party, I had to admit Carmina was right; this place and getting to be part of this makeshift family had been a true blessing. After losing my home and having to be relocated, Carmina had been the first in the village to offer me her house to stay and practically took me under her wing. A few days later I would meet Sophie, a child whose very existence was already a miracle. Despite not being more than nine centimeters tall, she managed to fill the room with her inner light. The beginnings had been a bit rough, but we quickly became fond of each other and now life without her was unthinkable. And as for Tommy… the beginnings had been rough too, and unorthodox to say the least. But he had proven to be a reliable kid who too had wanted to protect Sophie since their first meeting, and they adored each other.

A mentally ill woman from the city, a small-town old lady, a tiny little girl and a runaway trans teenager. What a group. Not bad for being in the middle of nowhere after the collapse of civilization.

 “Alright, I’m in” I replied with a smile. “I really hope there are enough chestnuts and apples to do this…I heard harvest wasn’t good this year” I added, a bit concerned.

Carmina smiled too. “Then we’ll all have canned peaches, and it will still be good.”

—

A few days later, I was picking chestnuts from a large bag with the help of Sophie, who Carmina had instructed to only get “the finest ones”. The young girl was doing her job diligently, almost yelling at me every time she would find the tiniest defect I hadn’t been able to notice. I was an endearing sight, although of course I took her orders as seriously as she deserved.

Once we were done, I set aside the basket with the selected chestnuts and allowed myself to stretch my arms.

“Will you make frixuelos for the party, Curuxa?” asked Sophie, sitting with her back against the wicker basket.

I chuckled. “Don’t you think it’ll be too much food?”

“I bet there won’t be a single one to spare, no matter how many you make!” replied the girl enthusiastically.

“Okay, okay”, I conceded, “if I have flour left after I’m done with the apple pie I’ll make some, promise.”

Sophie beamed up in response. I wasn’t exactly an expert in getting the dessert right, but I guess she just loved too much the anise flavored crepes sprinkled with sugar.

I set my hand palm up next to the girl, offering her a ride to the kitchen. “Come on. You can help me knead the dough, but only after you’ve washed your hands.”

Sophie didn’t think twice before hopping onto my hand.

—

I made my way to the porch, holding a freshly made apple pie with both hands and the basket with the chestnuts hanging from my bent arm. Sophie, as usual, was in my shirt chest pocket, peering out in excitement.

We saw Carmina and Tommy already there, a few bottles with sweet cider on the table. Carmina was setting the table while Tommy carried the grill. I smiled fondly, remembering the older woman assigning tasks and deciding Tommy would help her carrying the heavier stuff since she would need “the strength of a young man”. The boy had blushed slightly at the validating comment, and then accepted the assigned task with a smile.

Once it was all set and with the scent of roasting chestnuts filling the air, we were ready to start.

It was a delightful evening. Four people who couldn’t be more different sitting at the same table, laughing and enjoying a simple, yet delicious meal. The three humans couldn’t help glancing adoringly at the tiny girl sitting on the table by my side, totally unbothered by the giants surrounding her and happily digging into a chestnut that was bigger than her head. I was so happy that she was feeling so safe and confident around us.

“You were so right about the frixuelos, Sophie” I commented amusedly, “they didn’t last more than what, half an hour?”

“Told you so!” replied the child, and we all chuckled.

The sun had just set, and so our little party was over. There barely were leftovers, aside from some spare chestnuts. Carmina took them and solemnly threw them to the ground. “This is for the deceased to eat” she declared ceremoniously. Nor Tommy or I knew of the ritual, but we both nodded in respect. Sophie did seem to know though, as she stared longingly at the nuts on the grass covered ground. I cupped my hand around the child in a supportive gesture, and she leaned into it. No more words were needed; wherever her mom was, she would be safe and loved.

It was a good thing we had managed to find each other in these troubled times.

[natasha-in-space]

Hey mia what kind of dynamic would yoosung and saeran have in between them on the context of yoosung good/normal ending (aka saeran had blinded yoosung in one eye).

So in the yoosung valentine dlc, seven was in his jokester mood we have known him to have, which makes me speculate that between the good/normal ending and the valentine dlc (which are quite some years apart since in the latter yoosung is in his mid-late 20s) seven had rescued saeran and rika was secretly rehabilited without her being exposed of her crimes.

Seven would not keep his jokester facade and is also likely to leave rfa if he knew saeran was not okay (something he had discovered in that very route).

So with the assumption of seven rescuing saeran shortly after yoosung route and saeran meeting the rest of the rfa including yoosung. What kind of dynamic would the two have. I see both the potential for angst and some heartwarming moments as well

Pretty much the same as in SE, but with even more added trauma and guilt between them specifically.

MM endings are rather open to interpretation, so there are a lot of ways to imagine your own individual story playing out. I personally like it about them! So, it is very much a possibility that Mint Eye does get discovered and dismantled eventually, and that the twins do reunite. If we're taking a safer route, with Saeyoung staying with the RFA, and everyone working together without any added drama, then it'll pretty much play out similarly to the second SE.

Saeran will be recovering at the hospital until a specific point, and after that, he will be staying with Saeyoung in his bunker. How that whole thing plays out, and how differently it is from the SE, is completely up to you.

That said, I do think Yoosung will handle the whole crisis a bit more maturely, as well as play a more active role. If we're taking his character development in the duration of his route into account, he is way more determined to do whatever he can to help.

He also has a strong support system by his side in this scenario, so his issues concerning Rika will be resolved more painlessly and in a much healthier manner.

But, that raises the issue of Saeyoung not going through his own development that happens in his own route. And, you know what this means. Even if he doesn't leave the RFA, he'll still become distant and cold with them. The idea of Yoosung being the one who encourages him to open up and trust his friends is something I quite like. It's sweet, in a way, considering how Saeyoung supported Yoosung from the sidelines on his own route. I personally think that these two share one of the closest friendships in the RFA, so it's neat to imagine them encouraging one another like this.

So, there's that.

And Saeran? Well, Yoosung will only have a chance to interact with him directly after a long time has passed. I don't think his recovery will be any less rough than it is in the SE. Quite the opposite, actually. Poor Saeyoung will definitely experience a very difficult and stressful period. The rest of the RFA are going to be his main source of comfort and support. Maybe Yoosung and mc meet up with him from time to time, or maybe Yoosung prepares him some healthy food to eat up while they are stuck in the bunker.

I do think Yoosung will be sympathetic, despite everything. Especially after discovering all that Saeran has gone through. He'll forgive him for what he did, and he will be determined to help out in any way he can. He may not know Saeran, but he's Saeyoung brother, and that's all he needs to know. We do know that Yoosung is someone who will do everything for those he cares about. And Saeyoung is one of his closest friends.

That said... it's one thing to settle your feelings from the safe distance, and it's completely another to meet with this person again face to face. Yoosung's experience in Magenta was undoubtedly very traumatic. Despite not displaying much of a reaction in the game, he will definitely experience occasional nightmares, at the very least. I do like to think that he works this out in therapy, as he's determined to be the best version of himself, but...

That traumatic experience is still directly linked to Saeran.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, and I think Yoosung is not going to expect the reaction he will experience the first time he sees Saeran again. He's likely to freeze and enter a state of fight or flight. It's not intentional. It's a natural response to a feeling of danger. And it's something his mind and body do on their own. It won't be loud or intense, but it is very much distressing to him. Mc will probably have to put a gentle hand on his shoulder and lead him away. It's important to remind him that there is nothing wrong with what he is feeling, and that he shouldn't be hard on himself for that.

And, Saeran? He has no desire to be around the RFA in the first place. It's not comfortable and awkward. Sure, they may say that they do not hold any grudges against him... But, they are still the very same people he vowed to destroy so many times. Of course he'd feel uneasy and uncomfortable around them. It's a constant reminder of just how meaningless his life was up until this point. A cruel callback to the way he was manipulated, and just how much of a twisted monster he really is. Saeran is always quiet and closed off, but when he's next to the RFA?

It is multiplied tenfold.

And, Yoosung? Well, Yoosung is someone who he directly harmed. In a very sadistic and deliberate way, mind you. Saeran doesn't want to be disrespectful or anything, but his gaze will instantly go to the blind eye the young man has lost because of him. And then, the flashbacks will come rushing in. If Yoosung freezes up and goes into fight or flight mode, then Saeran has a straight up panic attack.

He remembers everything. Every disgusting detail of his actions. The sticky blood coating his fingers and getting under his fingernails, the sight of the whirling body before him as he holds it down without any consideration for its owner, the raging hate and an overwhelming desire to hurt clouding his every waking thought.

It causes him to feel sick to his stomach. I am talking sick enough to throw up. And he probably does.

What happened between Saeran and Yoosung on his route shouldn't be overlooked. The event was both traumatic and violent. It will leave them both with lasting consequences. In Yoosung's case, not only mental, but physical as well. And Saeran will never wipe that metallic smell of blood out of his head. Neither is he going to forget the fact that... really, he did that on his own accord. Nobody told him to harm Yoosung in such a cruel and purposefully sadistic way. He wanted to cause him pain. He wanted to make him scream and tremble from pain.

And, the worst of it all? It's not possible for him to pretend and say he didn't like it. Because he did. At the time, all he wanted was to hurt him.

Saeran already feels like a monster in the SE. I am honestly horrified to imagine how he would feel in this scenario if he ends up shooting V as well.

It's... It's a lot.

For the rest of his life, he will have to live with this. This guilt and knowledge of just what he is really capable of. And he wants to never forget what he did. Yoosung has lost an eye because of him. The least he can do is make sure that he carries some sort of consequence of that unforgivable event with him. It's a way of self-punishment. Not healthy at all.

So... yes, there is going to be a lot of very heavy baggage from both sides here. It's not impossible for them to form a stronger bond, if that's the picture you want to see for your ending. However, it will take a considerable amount of time. I'm talking literal years here. Lots of trial and error. Lots of messy situations and emotional outbursts from both sides. And, of course, therapy.

The thought of both of them coming to a sort of closure with each other is sweet, though. Maybe years down the line, as Saeran has to do a lot of healing and self-discovery of his own. But, it's possible.

[peacestale921]

𝔓𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔈𝔭𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔡𝔢𝟏: 𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫

Long ago,there were two races on earth:monsters and humans.

One day,however,one human was lying bleeding. Azriel,whose human soul he had captured,explained to the humans with tears in his eyes.

The humans empathized and decided to make the world a better place for monsters and humans to live.

What...?What's this...？

The chiriping of bady birds echoes in the sky. I somehow turned on the TV and heard the police officer support robot＿＿Metaton introducing the members of the police officer group.

Dr. Alphys is a doctor, not a police officer, so next...Undyne.

The introduction of a special type of police officer for monsters, is shown on the screen.

She can catch monsters with powerful magic...well, she's strong. Apparently, she is in training＿oops. The camera cut as soon as I thought I saw her face filling the......screen. I think it's amazing how close you can get in an instant.

Next shown was Papyrus, a human special type of police officer. Apparently he is busy on a mission, and Metaton is explaining him instead. He is friendly and kind, but has no mercy for criminals…I agree. I, too,

"must learn from his core strength..."

While I was thinking to myself, he moved on to the next introduction.

Next up is Papyrus' brother, Sans. He is a survivaillance special type police officer.The brothers are all very...huh?

......sleeping. I didn' t expect him to be dozing off when he is usually so firm…is he tired?

I spend my days as a prince, the son of a monster king, but to honest, even though I am a prince, I am still a child. There is not much to do, and if there is, it is only study. There is only so much I can do…but I would like to do something for the weary Sans.

He is always working hard for us and we need him to take a break once in a while.

"……He's still sleeping."

Even though he doesn't move that much all the time, he much be fatigued if he has to work almost every day without break. It would be bad to wake him up……. I brought a towel to at least keep him from getting cold. But apparently the shock woke him up.

"Oh, did you get up?"

He blinked and focused, then his eyes widened in surprise, "Eh, Prince??" I only mumbled.

"You must be tired. How about taking a break?"

When I suggested this, he became a little distressed. He may be thinking that he can't just abandon his important work, no matter how tired he is. But if he doesn't take a day off, his work efficiency will definitely drop. Sans would understand.

"umm…OK,try telling frisk."

I don't know if he was thinking about the work that was about to begin, or if my concern was conveyed to him, but it seems that he decided to take a leave of absence.

"Hooray! If you were to take many days off, you'll have to tell me!"

Sans lightly brushed off my unintentionally happy and slightly excited words with a “Ok, ok,” and headed for Frisk, still rubbing his sleepy eyes. Hehehe, I hope I was of some help.

A slightly overpriced chocolate chip cookie placed quickly in front of me. And a little further back, there is Sands with a big smile on his face.

"Do you want a rest?"

When I asked him a straightforward question, he seemed to have given up trying to deceive me and replied, "Yes." I asked him a direct question, and he seemed to have given up trying to deceive me.

Frankly, it is not a good idea to have Undyne or Papyrus or Sans out. These three are the heart and soul of the police force. However, I think they will be hard pressed to take zero vacation time.

We are not a black company, and it would be a problem if they get sick.

"Well, okay, I'll give you a rest."

"Really!?!?"

He leaned forward with a look of mixed surprise and delight on his face.

"When the vacations are over, I'll have you working as hard as you can."

When I added that, he looked as if he wanted to say, "Oh, no..."After that, he simply replied, "OK…," as if he had given up.

Rough audio reaches your ears.

"Azriel! I got some time off work!"

A happy voice and a familiar name.

The girl smiled with hatred.

Please help us spread the word about Peacrstale!

Canon:Undertale (by TobyFox)

Peacestale (by Peace)

Anime↓↓↓

[bluiex]

AAA HERE IT IS!! This turned out to be more Pearl-centric than I intended but I still like it :D There's a bit of Scarian if you squint but it can be read as platonic or romantic; whatever you like!

I've never written a sickfic before so I hope this is ok!! Enjoy!

- sickfic anon)

-----

Something was wrong with Scar, there's no doubt about that.

As pearl circled the city of boatem she counted on her hand how many people she could see, like she was taking attendance. She told herself it was for business purposes; to ensure everyone was out and about and working on something productive. In reality, she was just curious about what her fellow boatem members were doing.

As she counted, she took note of what her friends were doing. One - Grian was by his train, Two - Mumbo was tending to his farm, Three - impulse was busy tweaking his build, and… four? Where was Scar? Well, he was nowhere to be found, which spiked Pearl’s concern. It had been like that all day! Where was he?

Her feet hit the ground at Grian’s train, deciding that she should ask around first before jumping to conclusions.

“Griba!” she shouted, causing Grian to yelp embarrassingly. He turned to look at her with an annoyed expression on his face, which made her smile. It wasn't a good day if she hadn't annoyed her brother at least once.

“Yes, pearl? To what do I owe this pleasure?” He asked, annoyance and sarcasm coating his voice. To anyone else, it might have come off as rude. But Pearl knew Grian well and didn't overlook how his words were stitched together with fondness.

“Well as much as I’d love to bicker I'm actually here to ask if you’ve seen Scar at all today?” 

Upon her asking, she saw realization dawn on her brother's face, suddenly looking worried. Grian had been so busy all day with the G-Train that he hadn't really talked to anyone much. He completely missed the fact that he hasn't gotten his daily dose of Scar-time. That was incredibly odd.

“Come to think of it, I haven't. Have you seen him? Is he okay?” he asked, suddenly very worried. Pearl shook her head. 

The two of them ran through boatem on the way to the Swaggon. Surely Scar would be there, right? On their way, they met up with Impulse and Mumbo, who also hadn't seen their Top-hat-clad friend. Not a single person getting chatted up by their dear Scar even ONCE today? Something was definitely wrong. With their worries reciprocated and anxiety bubbling, they bolted for the Swaggon. What was wrong? Was he hurt? Was he sad? Why didn't he say anything? Did they do something to upset him?

Their minds came to a stop as they reached the Sawggon, burst into the entrance and found Scar fast asleep on his bed with Jellie nuzzled on top of him. Or.. he WAS fast asleep. Now he was sat straight up, sweating, and blushing from the embarrassing shout he just made. 

“W-well hello friends!” Scar spoke in a raspy voice, high-pitched and cracking. Man, they must have really spooked him. Deserved, Pearl thought. Scar scared them too!

“Scar! What's going on with you? Where’ve you been all day?” Pearl asked, still hopped up on concern. Impulse stepped in front of her with a warm smile on his face. 

“I think she's trying to ask if you're okay?” 

Scar blinked at them, still a little shocked from the loud surprise visit, before trying to explain himself. Unfortunately, before he could, he broke out into a coughing fit. That's when it hit them. 

Scar’s face was red, his voice was rough, and he was sweating. Jellie was meowing at him, clearly concerned and bumping her head against his chest. 

Scar was sick.

He cleared his throat, his friends now at his sides, asking if he was okay or needed water. They were sweet, and Scar appreciated it.

“I meant to tell you, but I must've fallen asleep! I think I'm sick.” he smiled sheepishly, thinking this would calm the nerves of his lovely friends, but they only seemed to look more concerned! Was it something he said?

“Oh Scar, is there anything we can do? Do you need medication?” Grian asked, uncharacteristically soft. Impulse and Pearl let themselves into Scar’s kitchen and started.. Well, it sounded like they were slamming pots and pans together, but Scar had to assume they were hungry. Though the noises made his head pound even harder than it was before, making him wince and hold his hands over his ears. Jellie meowed and looked at Grian like she was silently asking him to do something!!!

Grian looked at Mumbo, who didn't even need instructions. “I'm on it!” he said and clumsily ran to the kitchen to try and keep the noise to a minimum. Meanwhile, Grian sat on the side of Scar’s bed and fished out some pain meds from the bedside table, grabbing water from his inventory and helping Scar take it. Scar was perfectly capable of taking medicine on his own, but Grian seemed to really want to mother-hen him, so he didn't complain. The weight on the bed shifted as Grian crawled in next to Scar, guiding him to rest his head on Grian’s chest so he could run his fingers through his hair. 

“You’ll get sick” Scar protested, yawning. He already felt much better having his friends here with him. He was so grateful he had them. 

“Avians have good immune systems.” Grian lied. They weren't much different from humans like Scar, but he didn't want to leave. Scar smiled, draping an arm around Grian and feeling Jellie purring against his back. As Grian’s wings shifted to cover Scar, he felt the weight of the man increase ever so slightly on his chest, signifying that he had probably fallen asleep. 

It was peaceful until Pearl ran back in, asking about where she could find chicken broth, before getting shushed by Grian. Upon seeing the sleeping form in Grian’s arms, she smiled fondly, and waved her hand, saying she’d figure out where to find it.

Scar woke up an hour later to find all his friends hanging out and softly chatting around him, Grian’s hand still stroking his hair, and was brought “Impulse’s magic soup” after they noticed his consciousness. He felt so much better already, and Pearl made a mental note to make the "attendance check" a daily activity

AWWWEH YES CUTE SO CUTE

I love it qoq pearl and Grian rushing over to help then getting everyone else <333 gah this is so good