#when his first reaction after finally figuring out his feelings for Charles is to immediately want to confess to him

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

I always have a soft spot for characters who have a protective streak for another out of gratitude for their kindness towards them, but Charles’ protectiveness towards Edwin really hits a particular way because it’s so so apparent that it’s specifically about wanting Edwin to feel as safe and as comfortable around him as Edwin made Charles feel in his dying moments. I’m going to shatter like glass.

[omiscurls]

Diluc, zhongli and childe reaction to their s/o breaking up with them after something they said, maybe after a week or so after they argument they think the s/o forgave them but they break up instead? I WANT THE ANGST

consequences

plot: reader decides to break up with the character after not speaking to them

contains: diluc, zhongli, tartaglia (idk how am i going to do this to my special boy but ill try my best)

warnings: angst, breakups, implied past toxic behavior

a/n: OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO HARD- I DONT HAVE THE HEART TO BREAKUP WITH PEOPLE

diluc

hopeless thoughts ran through your head as you fought with yourself about wether to enter angel’s share or not, hand halfway through to the doorknob. your mind hadn’t been made up just yet, you were still in between two very different scenarios - the urge to forgive him for his hurtful words growing stronger each day, as anger and other emotions subdued to loneliness and the feeling of a part of you missing, ever since the two of you stopped talking.

your mind flashed back to the exact moment when you looked into diluc’s eyes, always so soft and calm for you, forming a way of anger he never expressed towards you before. to the feeling you got right then and there that this man is not the same one you’ve met and fell in love with.

the process of coming to terms with that conclusion was as painful as the first strike of his angry glare, and even though he seemed to have realized the weight of his words right after saying them out loud, no matter how hard you tried, you could not erase them from your memory.

one strike of that pain, one memory of that night was enough to make you go through with your plan, door to the bar opening with a little screech.

it was like just another late afternoon, with charles tending the bar, knights and townsfolk filling the hot room, and the smell of alcohol traveling through the air.

“hi” you said to the bartender “is master diluc around?”

charles, busy with his work, quickly replied that he’s out back, opening a barrel. you nodded and went where his directions guided, pushing open yet another door to see the back of the man you loved, looking just as always from this angle, working over said chore. he didn’t even seem to mind the fact that someone walked in on him working.

“diluc” you said with a sigh, and he almost immediately turned around, tools falling from his hands and onto the ground.

“darling, hi” he replied quietly, walking over to you but stopping half way, eyes set to analyze your expression, figure out what was going on in your mind. “i’m glad you’re here safely, i haven’t heard from you in over a week” he added cautiously, as if weighing every word before deciding to say it out loud.

“well” you sighed again, once again going over wether you should actually break things off right then, mind taking pity on his troubled expression, tired eyes, on the obvious eyebags that were much more apparent than before, a sign that he didn’t catch too much sleep. “i had to come to terms with what i’m about to say”

he wanted to tell you he was sorry, he really did, but words didn’t seem to come out of his throat. obviously he was sorry, it was a bad day and he meant none of what he said, but you knew that, right? you knew he always cared for you and loved you… right?

he wasn’t the best with words, hence, the idea of apologizing with a gesture after you were done teaching him his lesson came to mind. a brilliant idea, one could never go wrong with a thoughtful deed for their significant other, just give him one more chance.

“and my conclusion is, we need to take a step back and… reevaluate things in our lives. i’m not saying this is the ultimate end, but what you’ve said, and how you’ve said it made me realize…”

you were making a good point. you were talking about your feelings. he should listen, but the only thing he heard was the blood pumping through his veins, and the two single words

the end

so there won’t be another chance? he won’t be able to prove himself? what do you mean, the end? the best thing that ever happened to him in his sad life was coming to an end because of him? but he was so careful, he treated you like his treasure, because that’s how he truly felt, like his lifeline, something he could never lose…

and all it took was one sentence too much, one glare too intense. for the first time in what, six, maybe seven years, his eyes began to water, as he blinked the tears back at a rapid pace.

“… and that was a shitty thing to do. i hope you know that. i don’t know if i had anything else i wanted to say, perhaps i did, but… that’s all. see you around, i guess” you mumbled, loosing confidence in what you were saying, taking one last glance at his lost eyes before turning around.

turning around from him, from the love of your life, was perhaps the hardest thing you ever had to do, and yet you did do it.

before you could reach the door again, though, a cold hand caught your forearm. your eyes met his, with just a glimmer of hope that he would magically say all the right words and somehow make you stay, you didn’t want to leave, yet knew you had to. if you wanted to preserve the respect you had for yourself, you had to leave.

why were you giving him time to say something?

his helpless gaze seemed to speak with a thousand words, begging, pleading you to not leave through that door, but as much as his lips did part, not a single word left.

he couldn’t say anything to hold you back, and you ripped away from his grip, turned, and walked away.

and just like that,

he was all alone, again.

he was gonna need a drink.

zhongli

tears flooded your vision, blurring every details of zhongli’s face, causing you to only see a pale color palette, instead of your favorite person, ever. maybe it was for the best, maybe it would make it easier, you thought, but that was a foolish thing to hope for.

even through the salty tears, you could make out his eyes, it’s glow never failing to guide you, and comfort you, now seeming to burn their way through you, through your body and soul.

“you’re stuck in another love, zhongli, we both know that!” you exhaled a bit louder than you intended to, the outcome sounding more like an accusation than a fact. “how can you ever say you love me, when it’s so obvious, and so apparent, that every time you look at me, you see someone else? you HOPE for someone else?”

you could only wish the words you spoke didn’t come out as a complete mess, because of those tears you were constantly choking on. desperation seeped through your voice, as the feeling of helplessness rose every time you looked at your lover and at the anguish, and confusion he presented.

how could he make this so hard? it’s not like you’ve presented some statement he didn’t know already, right?

you hoped your eyes would say all the things you didn’t trust your voice to. you hoped he’d somehow hear how all you ever wanted was to be enough, was to meet his standard, how it tore you open that every time he said <i love you> his eyes wandered everywhere but onto yours, how all his touches seemed absent, how all his compliments were truly about some other face, some other smile, some other kind soul.

the worst part was, how could you blame him? how can anyone, ever, blame someone for being in love, of all things? love was something beautiful, and once you’ve experienced it, you’re drowned in it forever, and don’t even want to see the surface again.

love is beautiful. when you’re the one who’s receiving it. love was beautiful, to you, too, when you loved how his wisdom flew through his words, how his kindness hugged your spirit, how his aura brought you comfort. you loved his eyes, you loved his cheeks, his lips, every single detail of his skin.

the love you felt made you complete, made you warm, until you finally realize the thing you should’ve seen much sooner.

that you were merely a mirror for him to look at someone else, someone long gone.

suddenly all the warmth you felt was directed back at you, burning you inside, making you wish you never felt it in the first place.

“aren’t you gonna say something?” you whispered.

his long fingers found their way to your hand, but you snatched it away.

if you fell onto his charms now, you wouldn’t be able to get out once more.

his breath hitched as he gathered himself to speak

“i want nothing more than to love you” he said, although quietly, it rang through your ears like the loudest of screams.

you scoffed.

“we both would’ve wanted that, then”

“and i’m sure i can, if you just—“

now, laughter was all that you were capable of letting out.

“zhongli, you can’t train yourself to love someone. and even if you could, then how do you think that would make me feel? like i’m so unlovable you had to force yourself through it to grow accustomed to a feeling similar to love?”

“that’s not what i—“

“that’s what it means! let it go, please, please just… let me go” you sighed, standing up from the bench over at liyue harbor that you were sitting on. the sun has begun to set on the other side of the sea, and you couldn’t help but notice, it would’ve been the perfect date.

“i do sincerely hope you’ll find someone who’ll love you just the same” he finally stated, as he gave up on trying to make you stay.

“why?” you chuckled “so i could make them suffer the same way you made me?”

tartaglia

(archons give me strength)

you found nothing but guilt, looking into the endless ocean trapped in his eyes. for the first time in forever, they glistened, but not with a spark of joy, like you always hoped they would, they shone a sickly shine, caused by a thin layer of tears, that didn’t dear to spill over his porcelain cheeks, almost as if afraid of making contact with the ruthless face of the number eleven of the fatui harbingers.

he could’ve easily been crying if only he let himself go. he would’ve been in tears, sniffing and coughing, but he just… wasn’t. he held those tears in the gates of his eyes, as if his life depended on it.

the guilt you found inside them, wasn’t his, but yours. you felt guilty, watching this composed, confident man fall into pieces right before you, crumbling before your sight. why were you doing this? you seemed to forget all those terrible things you’ve heard just from the way his irises begged for forgiveness and brows furrowed in inexplicable sadness.

but you couldn’t, no, this time you couldn’t.

“my word” you swore on dear life you’d burst into tears if your voice shook right now “my word is final. we’re over. and that’s… that’s it. you need to understand that there won’t be another chance.”

the moment his lips parted, you knew you were lost.

“i have told you so many times already, but i will say this as much as i need to, it will never happen again! i swear, on everything i love and everything that i am, i swear on life itself, i won’t ever let that happen again! you know i won’t! come on, i promise you, if there’s anything you can say about me is i do keep my promises, don’t i? darling, please…”

“promise yourself to heal and become better, first” you stated coldly, watching faith disappearing slowly from his fixed look.

“im sorry, you know i am, im sorry, im sorry, im so fucking sorry!” a scream left his throat as desperation took over both reason and self-respect.

“sorry isn’t gonna cut it”

“then what will? i’ll do anything, anything in the world, anything to prove myself to you. i get that you can’t love me, i understand that, but please, let me win your trust again.”

he said unnaturally calmly, compared to what he did before, and you got concerned immediately.

i understand that you can’t love me, his words rang through your head. oh god, what were you doing? guilt stroke again, right at where you felt your heart to be.

right when you wanted to turn around and leave, he must’ve sensed that, and pulled you into a tight embrace. not suffocating, as they often describe it, not toxic and desperate, but… as loving as every other hug you’ve ever received from him. as calming and grounding, even though you could feel his heart racing. he didn’t refuse for you to leave, he didn’t trap you.

you understood after a while,

he was saying goodbye. all the love trapped inside his heart seeped out onto you, all his feelings surrounding and engulfing you.

“let me promise you this” he whispered, voice shaking painfully “the next time i’ll see you, i’ll be a better man. someone you will be able to be proud of, someone worthy of both your trust, and love. i won’t stop until i’ll be enough for you to look at me without the disgust and fear you have now. i promise. i’ll be better.”

“until then, then.” was the only thing you were capable of saying before leaving.

as soon as the door shut behind you, you rested against a wall and covered your mouth with a hand, unable to hold your tears any longer.

you heard a cry through the door. so he does have some feelings left, after all

your daily reminder that requests are open [here]

[free-pool-trash]

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

[flamingredanon]

"I can't believe that an entire town was abandoned... Some crazy shit must of happened!" Rupert exasperated as he and his military group, plus the General, walked through thick forestry and dirt. The mission was simple enough, find the Abandoned town, make sure it's safe and take anything deemed important.

"Language Price. It isn't lunch time, you're on duty right now, Think about that." General scolded Rupert despite how far in front he was, how the hell had he even heard him?... Huffing a little, Rupert turned his attention to the, strangely silent, pilot that was next to him. Good old Charles Calvin, a blast to work with.

"Charles, you agree right? How freaky it all is?" Rupert asked as he fiddled with his gun, don't worry, the safety is on, for now. When all he got was silence in response, Rupert nudged an elbow into Charles side. "Huh?-" that got the Pilots attention. "What's wrong with you? You're all... Quiet." Charles blinked before a look of realization hit him.

"Oh!- hahaha um.. nothing. Just.. got a really bad feeling you know?.. About this mission?..." Charles chuckled nervously, looking around him suspiciously. Rupert made an agreeing sound. "Finally someone that agrees with me!" Charles smiled awkwardly in response. Suddenly, the group came to a halt and the general turned around to face everyone.

"Alright Men, behind these last bit of trees is the town. Remember, this town has not been looked into, we know little about it and danger could be anywhere. Got that?" "Yes General Sir!"

------

Charles was strangely anxious, really anxious... The building he was checking was big, old, empty... If he were attacked right now no one would know and he'd probably bleed to death, alone...

Charles shook his head. "Agh no! Shut up Charles. Your. Fine. What's wrong with me today..." Charles huffed and he continued to search through the house. The first floor was clear with nothing valuable, the second floor was the same. Charles was making his way down the stairs when he saw something... Peculiar. Peculiar as in, out of place.

There were crayon scribbles all over the wall right where the stairs were. Something that would be easily over looked when coming up. The thing that startled Charles a little was how fresh they looked. "Huh..." Charles said as he got closer, looking at them closely. They weren't scribbles, but instead a drawing of a stick figure with.. headphones going up the stairs...

"Wow what a.. terrifying coincidence." Charles laughed nervously. A creak behind him, caused Charles to swing around in fear, hand reaching for his pistol as he came face to face with- !

"W..what?..." Charles sputtered out as the person in front of him, the threat, was actually a small child. They looked about 10 ish, a black Toppat placed on unkempt black hair. Charles' brain processed this information... Slowly. However, when he understood that yes, he was in the middle of no where with his squad and yes a kid had shown up out of thin air!

"H-Hey buddy, how... How did you get out here?" Charles asked slowly, approaching the child cautiously, he didn't want to scare them. They blinked up at him, staring at him like he was the person who had just appeared. Their hands moved in a familiar way and Charles identified it as ASL. 'It was right.'

Huh? Wait what? "What do you mean bud? W-Who was right?" 'My Vision.' What?..

"Hey, look, I don't know where you came from but this place is dangerous. Let me take you back to my group alright?" That got a reaction, they shook their head and turned and ran off out the door. Charles shouted after them and gave chase.

"Hey! Wait! It's not safe!" Charles called out, trying to run through the tall grass was harder than he thought. The kid, who was a few ways away now, tripped suddenly and fell over. Charles stopped and immediately went over to help. "Aw buddy! are you ok? I told you it wasn't safe-"

"Get away from my grandson!!!" An angry voice yelled and Charles flinched, stumbling back. The kid got up and made their way over, to a man, a very familiar man! It was a past Toppat leader, Randy Radman!

All the yelling had attracted Galeforce and Rupert over to Charles, who was still staring at the older former Toppat leader and the kid hiding behind Randy, holding on to his bright pink coat.

"I knew the damned Toppats were involved somehow..." Rupert growled, pointing his gun at Randy.

Randy simply retorted "Didn't anyone teach you to watch your language infront of the elderly and children? And I haven't been in the clan in a good several years."

Rupert continued to glare as General Galeforce gave the order to stand down, clearing his throat before speaking. "Excuse Mr Price's language, his tongue can be quite foul, but he is a good soldier."

"Mr Radman, if you or the child know what happened here, it could be of great importance to us. An entire town disappearing is not normal by any means."

Randy found himself sitting down in the grass as he replied "Little Tin knows what happened here, I just came by because Tin texted me that bad things happened and everything was taken and that men in green were coming and he was scared."

Randy turned to Tin "I know the Government is usually not our friends here, but you need to tell the General everything that happened. I'm here for you if they try anything funny."

Tin nodded his head, adjusting his hat as he faced Galeforce, Rupert and Charles and started signing.

"The CCC took everyone here away, including my dads. They... they took everyone, then they cleaned out the buildings and houses to make it look like no one lived here. Dad told me to hide so I didn't get caught, that I needed to text my granddads or my grandpa when things were quiet."

Tin pointed at Charles before continuing "I saw you in a vision of the future, coming up the stairs. Since I was alone, I drew what I saw on the walls while I waited for grandpappy."

Galeforce spoke up "Did you happen to hear any of the CCC people talk about where they were taking everyone or did you atleast see what direction they left at?"

Galeforce knew these were probably tough questions for a small boy who had his fathers snatched away from him alongside so many other people.

Tin thought for a minute as he looked at the town before turning around and pointing to a dirt road. Rupert walked to the road and back as he said "It looks to be several van tracks sir, pretty fresh too."

Galeforce took out his walkie talkie as he spoke to Randy "You and your grandson should get somewhere safe, I am about to call in alot of people to handle this. I will atleast make you the promise that no Toppats will be arrested, with all this happening, getting these people home safely is far more important."

Randy nodded his head as he picked Tin up "Thank you, General. I'll give you the number to my phone so that you can call or text us when you rescue everybody. And do be safe out there, the CCC is no joke."

Galeforce, Charles and Rupert watched Randy and Tin walk away, with Tin giving a small wave before hugging Randy. Galeforce wasn't sure what going against the CCC was like, but he was making sure his men were more then ready.

[lilousmustaches]

Work this out

Jake Peralta x Reader

Warnings: Ladies stuff, i won't say anything else to avoid spoilers. 

Notes: Here i am writing again after 3 years.... a total new fandom. I am watching b99 and i'm so addicted, Jake is the only thing in my mind right now and i had to do this. It didn't go as i planned, but i hope it's ok. It's small and english is not my first language. Expect more of Jake x Reader here, it's my first try and voilá. 

Summary: Jake and the reader have a friends with benefits relationship and suddenly she starts to act strange. 

Another work day in NYPD's 99 precinct. It had everything to be another normal day. Well... normal as it can get down there. But it wasn't.

 Immediately when you entered the precinct, Jake turned his head up from his computer to give you a smile and probably a silly joke provoking you. But his smile vanished as soon as he saw you pass everyone with your head down, no good mornings and going somewhere down the hall.

 "Hey" Rosa called looking between Jake and the hall you just disappeared. "What's up with (Y/N)?" 

 "I don't know." Jake responded confused as everybody else in the room. You were a joyful person, always smiling and greeting every single person that worked there. 

 "What have you done Jake?" Amy asked angry assuming it was his fault since everyone knew about yours friends with benefits relationship that has been going on for a while now. 

 "What? Nothing" Jake answered quickly indignant with the assumption. 

 "No, Amy is right Jake." Boyle said getting up of his desk and coming closer. "(Y/N) is acting weird this days, yesterday she didn't even wanted to eat some of my salmon cookies. She loves that. And coming here and not giving my good morning hug? Definitely something's strange." 

 "Boyle is right on that one." Rosa agreed with her arms crossed. 

 "I don't know ok?" Jake answered frustrated with your strange behavior rising his hands in surrender. "(Y/N) didn't went to my place this last weekend, in fact I had barely seen her for the past days. I really have no idea... maybe she's just trying to dump me and trying to make it easier." 

 "Or maybe she's tired of waiting for you to ask her out on a real date and assume her as your girlfriend!" Boyle pointed raising an eyebrow to his friend. "You should tell her how you really feel." 

 "Yeah, haven't you kept her waiting long enough?" Amy agreed. Everybody that met you and Jake knew eventually you were going to stay together. You had the same kind of humor and the same sassy tone. So it wasn't exactly a surprise when in one of the squad's reunions at the bar, you and Jake got hammered and started to talk and laugh closer to each other. Not a long time after that, you both disappeared going straight to his house. "It's has been months since this 'friends with benefits' thing started." 

 "Look guys." Jake said with a frustrated sigh rolling his eyes. "(Y/N) and I have talked about this. She's not ready yet for a relationship, she passed a hard time with that son of a bitch ex of hers. She needs time and I respect that."

 "Oh here she comes." Rosa alerted and quickly everybody went back to their places and pretended to be working. You came out of the files room discussing something with Terry. 

 "Okay (Y/N), we can work on that. Good job." Terry said with a sweet smile going back to his desk, and you to yours. You sat down in silence still not looking around organizing your paperwork, but notice everyone quiet and you could literally feel their stares burning on your skin. 

 "What?" You finally said looking around to your colleagues and everybody tried to disguise murmuring a lot of 'nothing' 'just working'. Everybody unless Jake. He was watching you intensely trying to figure out what was wrong. 

 Your eyes locked for a second and you could see that he was worried, and that broke your heart even more. This wasn't supposed to happen right now. Your heart was beating fast and nervousness took over your body. You quickly turned your attention to your desk again and took your purse pretending to organize something there. 

 "Good morning squad, today..." Captain Holt started to say walking out of his office but stopped in his tracks when looked over your desk and catch the sight of something inside your purse. He looked back and forth you and Jake. "Oh..." 

 "Oh what? What oh?" Jake asked fast doing his classic bite lip when he was anxious, trying to figure out what Holt saw that he didn't. 

 "Hmm" Holt said looking at Jake like he didn't know what to do now. "(Y/N) please come to my office." 

 Jake watched you get up and follow Holt into his office, closing the door behind you and closing the shutters. He strained his eyes shaking his head in denial. Ok, this was how things was going to go? Fine! He was a detective and he was so on for this investigation.

xXxXxXxXx

 Jake wanted to stay and see your expression when you got out of Holt's office, but duty called and he had to be on the streets all day. He put everyone on the precinct working on the case '(Y/N)'s secret 0.1', and every minimum suspicious movement, they were oriented to send him a message.

 Charles really took it seriously. 

 Nothing useful thought. Man he was frustrated, he solves all type of cases everyday but he couldn't figure out what was wrong with the women he liked? It was driving him crazy! 

 It has just grown dark when Jake entered back the 99, some people from the night shift was already there and he could only spot Boyle from his friends.

 "Hey Jake! Did you read my messages? Did you find them useful?" 

 "Hmmm... Yeah Charles, of course, thank you." Jake said after pondering the answer in his head although It was no useful at all. Charles told him every single one of your steps through the day, Jake wanted to know if you did something strange not your constant need to pee on that day. "(Y/N) already went home?"

 "Actually no, I just send you a text, didn't you read it?" He asked feeling insulted but continued when saw Jake's face. "Ok, she and Terry are still working on that case but (Y/N) got hot, she said she needed some air. She's on the roof." 

 "Hot? (Y/N) is always cold." He said confused but suddenly something clicked and everything started to fall into place inside his head. "I got go."

 His steps were fast to open the door for the roof and he immediately spotted you looking at the city view. You didn't turn but he knew that you knew it was him. 

 "Hey you." He said softly slowly approaching you until he was by your side. "I was worried today, you know?" 

 "I kind of got that.... Charles followed me into the ladies bathroom three times." You said making you both laugh. "So what it was? Like a secret case that everybody worked? How was it called? '(Y/N)'s secret 0.1?'"

 "What? No. I wouldn't go that obvious." Jake answered laughing nervously. Oh man, you knew him too damn well. "But yeah, was definitely working on that case. I worry about (Y/N). You were pushing me away, you didn't even answered my calls this last weekend. Sure, you could be done with our casual thing or whatever, but I know you. I knew it was not it." 

 "Jake, look..." You said with a sigh but he interrupted you. 

 "I was confused as hell this morning, but suddenly everything clicked. Yesterday you didn't want that weird salmon cookies Charles brings. I adore you but those are nasty as fuck, by the way. You didn't drink coffee when you got here today, you always do that. And not greeting anyone? That means something happened yesterday night that got you worried." Jake said and paused waiting for a reaction, but he took your silence a sign to continue his deduction. "Of course you could be suspecting for a while now, and that's why you have been avoiding me. Captain saw your purse when he got out of his office. He saw your tampons, am I right? Untouched. Your usual period date has already passed, and everybody knows when it is because of how much pain you feel. Usually stays only in paper work those days. Constantly needing to pee. But none of it hit me until Charles said you were feeling hot. You're always cold and asks for my jackets. Those are all symptoms of...." 

 "Hit me Sherlock." You said and waited for his right answer.

 "You're pregnant." Jake said finally, his face softening. "It is mine?" He asks feeling insecure but he changed his mind when saw your face. "Dumb question. Shouldn't say that. Of course it's mine."

 "I'm so sorry Jake, I just didn't know how to say it. You're right in everything, I started suspecting since last Friday but only took the test yesterday." You said starting to feel tears in your eyes. "And yes, Captain Holt found out in seconds. I just begged him not to tell you."

 "Traitor" Jake said furrowing his eyebrows. "I'm just confused on how that happened? We always use condoms." 

 "I was thinking that too, until I remembered that night on Gina's birthday that we got really drunk and had sex on the bar's bathroom." You said and he agreed, both smiling at the memory quickly coming back to the moment. "I am so scared. We're not even together and I..." 

 "Wait, that's what is troubling you?" Jake said feeling his hands shaking and his heart beating incredibly fast. "(Y/N) I like you ok? For a long time now. I just didn't think you were ready yet for a relationship, I was respecting your time. But oh god, I'm so in love with you it hurts. Of course it's not the perfect scenario, but we gonna make this work, I won't leave you to take care of this baby alone."

 He said sincerely looking in your eyes and you nodded feeling some tears starting to fall down, you hugged him tight feeling his strong grip on you. Jake kissed your forehead, rubbing your back to calm you down. 

 "I'm in love with you too Jake, so much, I want this to work out." You said softly into his neck. 

 "It will." He said giving a slow chaste kiss. You stayed hugged for a few minutes but suddenly he gasped and started to hyperventilate. "Holy shit! I'm going to be a dad. What if i can not be a good dad because mine abandoned me when I was little? I'm going to be a dad." 

 "Hey" You said to drag his attention back to you, watching his wide eyes staring at the horizon. You knew it was your time to calm him down. "You're going to be a great dad. You are already proving this to me by not letting me be alone. We will work this out remember?" 

 "Yeah..." He sighed feeling calmer looking into your eyes. "We will work this out."

[oh-ranpo]

like an ever-expanding universe.

pairing: owen joyner x reader an: so, this was sent as a request, but somehow I got out of control with it, so it ended up being longer than I expected it to be lmao I hope you enjoy! request: a pair of exes (let’s say hypothetically in the middle of filming season 5 of JatP and reader came in during season 2 as a new character and the actress is the same age as him/Savannah and they hit it off but eventually broke up) try to get the other jealous so they can get back together. disclaimer: also, I just wanted to say that in a relationship, communication is key, so while jealousy is fun to write and read about sometimes, we stan healthy relationships with open communication : ) word count: 3.5k+

“You should really just talk to him.”

You scowled at Savannah from where you were sitting at your vanity as you had been working on getting ready for the evening.

“Talk to him? After finding out that he was bringing a date? No, Savannah, I need to get even.” Savannah sighed as she shook her head and fixed her gaze on the phone in her hands.

“You two are going to drive me crazy.” You pretended that you didn’t hear her this time as you turned back to fixing your appearance. Either way, it didn’t matter what your friend said because your mind had already been made up. 

When you found out that Owen wasn’t showing up to the cast party alone, you had been hurt. Sure, the two of you had broken up over a month ago, but you hadn’t been ready to move on yet, and the fact that he seemed to be took you by surprise. Your friends tried to tell you that it meant nothing, but you channeled your devastation into indignance and all you wanted to do was make him jealous enough that he could feel what you were feeling now.

Your relationship with Owen hadn’t always been so complicated. In fact, it used to be the best one you had ever experienced. When you landed a recurring role in season two of Julie and the Phantoms, you had immediately hit it off with the blonde drummer. There was a connection that you shared that everyone around you could see, and it surprised no one when you confessed your feelings for one another just a couple of months after meeting. Three years and three seasons of the show later, you had been sure that you had found The One.

And then, things managed to fall apart.

It wasn’t like anything dramatic had happened, and when you looked back on it, you weren’t even sure what had spurred the reaction. Just, one day, Owen said that he needed some time apart, and for some reason, you had agreed. You didn’t really want to break up, but you were still fairly confident that he was your person and you truly believed that he would make his way back to you. You were both young and it could be overwhelming when you felt so much for someone so early in life. You never doubted your feelings for him, however, and you thought the feeling was mutual… until you learned about her.

Charlie swore that he had nothing to do with it when he told you, but you also knew that it was one of his friends. You didn’t blame him, of course, but that also didn’t stop the hole that had formed in your chest over how beautiful she was. Just knowing how good her and Owen were going to look side-by-side made you feel even worse. She was the reason why you had decided to go all out in hopes of grabbing someone’s attention, most of all, Owen’s. It was dumb and childish, but you were sure that it was the only way to make you feel better.

Savannah didn’t bother you about your questionable plan again, however, by the time you were both ready to leave, you had started to lose confidence in yourself. You didn’t say anything to your friend though as you still continued to laugh and chat about the night ahead, carefully avoiding the topic of the boy that you were hoping to win back. And while you were on your way to Tori’s apartment with Savannah, Owen was having nerves of his own while getting ready in the apartment him and Charlie shared.

“Do you think this is going to work?” Owen asked his friend as he ran his fingers through his golden locks anxiously. Charlie gave him a look from where he was sitting on the couch. He had been ready for a while now, but he was still waiting on his friend to show up and for Owen to make up his mind. 

“Do I think that you taking another girl to this party is going to help you get back together with a girl that you never should have broken up with in the first place? No. Absolutely not.”

Owen sighed as he leaned against the arm of the chair he was standing next to. He had thought about cancelling with Jamie for a few days now, but he couldn’t get himself to do it. He knew she was excited to go, and while he also knew that you were aware, and probably hurt by the knowledge, of his date, he had made a promise. A stupid, selfish promise, but a promise all the same. 

He knew Charlie hated the whole thing, as he had told him multiple times, but when there was a knock at their door, they both knew that it was Jamie and there was no turning back now. As Owen started towards to the door to answer it, Charlie called his name and Owen looked back over his shoulder at the brunette on the couch. 

“You better figure out a way to deal with this without hurting anyone any further. I’m serious, Owen.” It wasn’t often that Charlie got that look on his face, and Owen slowly nodded in understanding. He just wasn’t sure how he was going to manage pulling that off.

When he pulled open the door, Owen was greeted with a big smile from the brunette on the other side. He did his best to smile back, but now that all of this was really happening, he was more nervous than ever.

“Owen, you look great!” Jamie cooed as she stepped in through the door and pulled him into a hug. Owen quickly hugged her back and his eyes met Charlie’s over her shoulder. The stern look was still on his face and Owen swallowed roughly.

“Thanks, so do you.” 

It was going to be a rough night, and really, he had no one to blame but himself.

x.x.x

Your eyes couldn’t help but search the room for his face as soon as you stepped into Tori’s apartment, but it quickly became clear that Owen was nowhere to be found.

“He’s on his way. Charlie just texted me,” Madison informed you when she saw the dejected look on your face. You felt silly that you were being so obvious about it, but you did your best to brush it off. 

“Good for him. I think I’m going to go mingle a bit. See you later, Mads.” You didn’t look to see if Madison rolled her eyes like Savannah had earlier in the night before starting to make your rounds. You wanted to make sure you were having a good time when Owen finally did arrive.

There was a good mix of new and familiar faces, so you had plenty of conversation partners to choose from. You wished you could say you were so wrapped up in conversation that you didn’t notice when Owen walked through the door about half an hour later, but you always had a sixth sense when it came to him. You did try to ignore it though, as you moved a little closer to the cute new boy you had started talking to. You couldn’t quite remember his name at the moment, but that was a problem for another time.

You could hear his voice no matter where he was in the room, and while you tried to ignore it, you could tell that it was getting closer and you were having to fight every instinct you had not to look over at him. The only thing that helped you maintain your composure was the fact that every time Owen would speak, it was soon followed by a higher, more feminine voice that you were sure belonged to his date. The last thing you wanted while you were trying to work the room in a positive way was to be struck with the heartbreak you were sure to feel by seeing them together.

“YN, there you are!” Charlie called excitedly, pulling you out of your conversation with William? Or was this one David? Either way, you forced a smile onto your face as you turned to face your friend and cast mate.

“I’ve been standing in the same place all night, Charles, I can’t help it you’re oblivious,” you teased as he pulled you in for a hug, and a part of you wished that he would have remained oblivious for a little bit longer. You could tell that William, David, or whatever the cute boy’s name was, was about to ask you to dance. It would have been the perfect opening for you to try and make Owen jealous. 

When Charlie hugged you, you glanced over his shoulder to see that Owen was standing not too far away, and while he probably should have been paying attention to the conversation that was happening around him, you were surprised to see that his gaze was fixed on you. He had a drink in his hand that was going ignored, and while his date was excitedly chatting with Madison and Jadah, he seemed to be ignoring them as well.

Slowly, you pulled out of Charlie’s arms, and with one glance in the direction you were previously looking, he immediately knew what was going on. You saw his shoulders deflate a bit out of the corner of your eye as he looked at his friend and then back to you.

“You two need to talk,” he stated, and you could hear the exasperation in his voice. It was similar to how Savannah had sounded earlier in the night, and you quickly turned so that your back was now to the blonde, and you gestured towards the boy that you had been talking to before Charlie walked over.

“Well, I was kind of in the middle of a conversation when you came over so… maybe later.” You weren’t being very mature about the situation at all, and while it looked like Charlie wanted to say so, he threw up his hands in surrender and then walked away. You didn’t mean to come off so harsh, but Owen had been the one to mess everything up, so reasonably or unreasonably, you thought that he should be the one to come fix it.

Another hour or so passed, and neither you nor Owen approached one another, instead opting for a delicate dance around each other, pretending that the other wasn’t there except to occasionally share a few glances. You were trying to keep your spirits up, but anyone you would hear his date’s voice, or you would notice that Owen was laughing at something she said, you could feel your heart break more and more. Your hopes in making him jealous were fading, and you were starting to truly realize what a stupid venture it had been in the first place.

Eventually, you broke away from the third cute boy conversation of the night to head to the bathroom. You needed a moment to yourself as you could feel your emotions starting to get the better of you, and you just needed to take a breath somewhere where you wouldn’t hear Owen’s, or his date’s, voice. 

Once you made it to the bathroom, you closed and locked the door before turning to face the mirror as your hands gripped the edge of the countertop tightly. You took one, two, three deep breaths but the pain in your chest wasn’t subsiding. You took a good long look at yourself, and you wondered why you had been silly enough to think that, if Owen had broken up with you, he would suddenly want you back just because you put effort into how you looked for this one party. Your relationship had always been deeper than that, and that translated to your breakup as well. The breakup that you still didn’t understand. The breakup that you had never wanted to happen.

You didn’t know that, while you were having your breakdown in the bathroom, Owen was slowly falling apart in the middle of a room filled with people. He had been trying so hard to keep his cool all evening. However, from the moment he saw you when he stepped through the door, he knew this was all a horrible mistake. He should have cancelled with Jamie. Maybe he should have stayed home and not come to the party at all. He was overwhelmed with feelings and he didn’t know how to express them in a way that anyone else would understand. This heartache was all his fault, and it was something that he could have prevented entirely if he hadn’t been just so stupid. 

“You should go talk to her,” Jamie murmured into his ear just a few seconds after you had disappeared down the hall. The words took him by surprise as he looked over at the girl that had come here as his date. “Whatever is going on between you two… I think it deserves a conversation.” Owen’s brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what was happening. 

“I- I really don’t-“ he started, but Jamie stopped him with a small smile and a shake of her head.

“I think you do. I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching her all night – I mean, I would have to be blind not to – and I’ve also seen the longing looks she’s thrown your way as well. She’s been silently begging for you to say something, and believe me, I get it. I’ve been in a few complicated relationships before but… it doesn’t have to be complicated if you don’t want it to be. Just go talk to her.”

The guilt must have been evident on Owen’s face at her words because Jamie reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder as she gave him a genuine smile. 

“It’s okay, I’m not mad. I could tell from the beginning that your heart was somewhere else. But you’re a good friend, Owen. I promise, there are no hard feelings.”

For a moment, Owen genuinely didn’t know what to say, but Jamie gave him a gentle shove towards the hall where you had just disappeared, urging him to do as she said. This time, he didn’t need her to say anything more. The bathroom door was the only one that was shut when Owen investigated the hall to try and find you, so he took a deep breath as he walked over to it before lifting his hand to knock. 

Even though it was soft, you jumped at the sound and you quickly wiped at your eyes where tears had started to form, hoping to brush them away.

“I’ll be right out!” you called to the person on the other side, and you took one last deep breath before pulling the door open. You froze in the doorway when you came face-to-face with Owen, but it was clear from the look on his face that he wasn’t at all surprised to see you. “Oh, Owen.”

He looked nervous as his blue eyes studied you, and you could feel your heart pound hard in your chest at how close you were to one another. This was the first time you had actually said a word to him in a while, and even though he still hadn’t said a word back, you were sure now that he had sought you out on purpose.

“Can we talk?” he asked, confirming your previous thoughts. You nodded slowly, and he stepped to the side so that you could move into the hallway and then follow him farther down until you came to the doorway of the guest bedroom. He motioned for you to step inside, so that you could have some privacy you assumed, and you did just that as he closed the door behind you.

“Where’s your date?” you asked, your voice hard as the question left your lips. You had no idea what Owen’s intentions had been getting you alone, but the devastation from the entire situation was still sitting heavy in your chest, and it was hard to ignore.

“She’s, uh, she’s not really my date,” he replied, clearing his throat as he spoke. You could still hear the nervousness in his tone, and when you turned to face him again, he was rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, at least not anymore.”

Even more confusion washed over you as you stared at him, and he took a daring step closer to you.

“And why not? Did you decide you don’t have feelings for her too?” The words that were flowing from your lips now were completely fueled by the hurt that you had been harvesting over the past month, and while Owen flinched a bit at your tone, he didn’t get angry.

“That’s not- YN, that’s not why I ended things, and I hope you know that,” he murmured, his hand falling to his side as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I don’t know that. Honestly, Owen, I don’t even know what to believe at this point. I used to be… I used to be so sure that you were the one person I would always understand, and yet now, I feel like I barely even know who you are.” The tears had started to form behind your eyes again, and your voice got caught in your throat as you started to get choked up. Owen’s face fell at your words and you could tell they were affecting him too. Good, you thought. He needs to know.

After taking a deep breath, Owen began speaking again.

“When I told you that I needed space, it wasn’t… it was never because my feelings for you changed. At least, they didn’t change in the way you thought they did. They didn’t go away, and they didn’t get smaller… they got bigger. My feelings for you grew every single day for three years, and I thought that eventually I would reach the peak of them, but no. The things I felt, and still feel, for you were expanding like an ever-growing universe and it scared me. It scared the hell out of me because I’m only 20 years old, YN. This… this is adult, real-life stuff and I didn’t think that I was ready for that yet.”

A range of emotions washed over you as you took in his words, and you barely noticed how he moved closer to you as he spoke. It wasn’t until you could practically feel his breath fan across your face and his hand brushed against yours that you realized he was right in front of you. If you were to reach out, even an inch, you could feel him. All it would have taken was one small motion to confirm to yourself that this was all real. There was a short moment of silence that fell between you, and when he realized that you weren’t going to speak up, he continued.

“But the truth is, nothing has felt right since the day we broke up. I didn’t think I was ready for us, but really, I’ll never be ready for a world where there is no us. Seeing you here tonight and thinking that you were dressed up for someone else, and just knowing that you thought I was trying to replace you with someone else, I just…” He hesitated for a moment as he tried to think of the proper words to conclude with. “You don’t have to forgive me, because I would understand if you didn’t. But I need you to know that I love you, I have always loved you, and I will continue to love you whether we’re together or not.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as soon as he finished, and his lips turned up in a sad smile as his hand lifted quickly to wipe it away. It was an action that he couldn’t help himself from performing, and as soon as his fingers made contact with your skin, you leaned into his touch without hesitation. Even after the tear was gone, Owen’s thumb still brushed against your cheek as he seemed to be taking you in.

“I’m so sorry for putting you through this,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think I’ll always be sorry.”

You couldn’t take it anymore as you felt the full wave of relief and pure love fill you from his confession, and you leaned up onto your tiptoes so that you could close the distance between you as your lips crashed against his. Kissing Owen felt like coming home, and his reaction was immediate as he cupped your cheek with his hand and his other hand came around to rest against your lower back, pulling you closer. You probably should have apologized for how you had been acting as well, but you knew that you could do it later. Right now, you needed this, and it was clear that Owen did too.

“I love you too, Owen,” you mumbled against his lips when you pulled away a few seconds later. “Always have, always will.” Then, you were kissing him again, and all the sorrow from the evening, and the last month, was slowly lifted from your shoulders and you felt like you could breathe again.

tags: @crybabyddl​ @chrlsgillespie​ @calamitykaty​ @alexpjoyner​

[chocolate-parfait]

Hiii! I saw that your requests are open, and I want to ask for a Mozart scenario 👉👈. MC/Reader (whichever you prefer) has gone back to her time for a long time (even tho she wasn’t planning for long) but when she comes back she also has Mozart’s kid in her arms (but everyone knows before him coz he is obviously at his piano lmao). So the residents plan to surprise him? If it’s too specific feel free to ignore this. Make sure you sleep sufficiently and drink some water😗😗 thank u in advance :)

Sorry it took me so long! I barely had the time to sleep this past month😳 I hope it was worth the wait-

A gift from Fate - Ikemen Vampire (Mozart)

“I don’t think we should listen in on them...” The cherry haired man whispered.

“Shh Ai-chan. Mozie-kun might hear us!”

“Tofu lover here is right, old Newt. And how could we pass up a chance of seeing that cold-hearted wolf shed a tear or two? It’s a once in a lifetime occasion!” Added the writer, resting his left hand on the scientist’s shoulder.

“Ugh, why did I even ask you two, of all people... Sebastian, tell them something already!” Isaac lamented once more.

“Unfortunately, Master Isaac, I’m afraid to say I’m quite curious myself to see Master Mozart’s reaction. It’s for scientific purpose, after all.”

“For what?” Nine pairs of eyes flew to the butler’s figure.

“Oh, nevermind that.”

"Leonardo, would you mind throwing your cigar away? They'll catch the smell of it" Comte’s placid tone filled the small space.

"What, you curious too, "Comte"? Heh, as his majesty desires" Leonardo complied, putting out his cigarillo against the ground with a dramatic gesture, gaining a displeased glance from the nobleman.

"...thank you. Oh, I believe he's almost there. Everybody, please be quiet."

As their sire spoke these words, all the vampires got closer to the small opening of the door. Some could barely see anything, but the wooden surface was thin enough to let any and all sounds reach the hidden listeners’ attentive ears.

The person that had them all hidden in a small storage room adjacent to the parlor was none other than Mozart. The love of his life had just returned from the future with a surprise of a companion glued to her side, but the man was yet to show his face. He had been, as always ever since her departure a couple of years before, focused on composing his tunes, now devoid of their old brightness and tempo, just like the composer himself.

It was as clear as day that, although his external composure remained unchanged, his heart had decided to freeze himself, a thick layer of frozen indifference to hide a pain akin to that of being torn in half, cruelly and mercilessly. Whenever he let his guards down even the slightest bit, he found himself on a battlefield over which time had no influence whatsoever, and where the ice and snow perfectly preserved the destruction and desolation born from his loss. The blood from a still fresh and open wound laid on the ground, as strong winds hit him with the warm whispers of a long-lost sun, nowhere to be seen.

That was the devastated state in which his being was left in, unaware of the sympathetic smile Fate was now offering him.

That day, a mysterious note found its way between the pianist’s hands, the words “Meet me at 18.00 in the parlor. It’s a matter of utmost importance” written in an impeccable cursive of other times, clearly belonging to one of the many inhabitants of the mansion. When it came to such intimate business, they usually preferred keeping a certain distance from unfolding events, but seeing the hesitation and fear of rejection on the woman’s face, they had all agreed to lend her a hand and give a little pull on the red string that connected the two lovers.

As punctual as ever, when the clock’s hands moved to the predetermined time, Mozart knocked stiffly on the door, finally making his entrance in the scene.

Barely two steps in the room and he found himself stuck in place, incredulous eyes fixed on the feminine figure in front of him. His violet eyes immediately found her face, and his body moved towards hers, attracted by an invisible force that had kept them tied to each other in spite of time and space. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, though his feverish dreams and hazy memories couldn’t hold a candle to the real her.

As impatience shook his body with a strong wave of trembles, with a quick movement he trapped her in a soul-crushing embrace that overflowed with all his longing and love; as his arms tightly caged her to his torso, he nuzzled her neck, finding her warm skin with the cold tip of his nose.

One deep inhale, then another. And another one.

She smelled divine.

Oh, how he had missed that dazzlingly sweet scent, those soft locks tickling his pale cheeks now flush with various emotions, that small pair of arms circling his body and squeezing him tightly. Was this a dream? Had he finally reached the afterlife for a second time? If so then he didn’t want to go back. If living in an illusion meant being with her then he was ready to throw away the real world with no second thoughts. But this, this was real. His mind had already acknowledged it, leaving the heart behind to process its own feelings.

“Meine Geliebte-” (my beloved)

“Mozart-”

They said in unison, voices mixing with harmony in a euphonious melody.

As he pulled back a little to look her in the eyes, a small voice came from behind her body. “Mama...” When Mozart lowered his eyes to meet the small figure’s, he was met with a small child, around 4 or 5 years of age. Before his thoughts could even reach the idea of betrayal, he couldn’t help but notice how every single feature, although still not fully developed, was a mixture of one of his and his lover’s own. The similarity was painfully clear, but once more the brain outrun the heart, and Mozart felt his heartbeat fall to his stomach.

“This is...” The woman started with a wavering voice, maybe from the emotion or perhaps because of insecurity. “This is our son, Charles.”

“Our... son...?” The pianist slowly repeated, trying to give more time to his now nearly-exploding heart.

Bending down to meet those violet orbs so similar to his own, he smiled fondly, reaching a hand out to slowly caress the boy’s head. As he did so, a myriad of realizations hit Mozart like a carriage running at full speed. He could not believe he had missed his son’s birth, his first steps, his first words. The fruit of their love, a life born out of their union. No amount of apologies and care could give him back all that, and the thought brought tears to his eyes.

“Papa! No leave Mama anymore!” The boy suddenly pleaded as he threw himself between his father’s arms. Oh, but of course he wouldn't. How could he? Not anymore. He wasn’t so stupid as to let that damned door separate them again, and not even God could part them anymore. But would the boy understand? He was but a stranger to him, and he did commit the terrible mistake of letting the only person he truly cared for slip away from his grasp once, so how could he blame him for having such thoughts?

“No, I won't. I promise you.” Placing a warm hand on his son's back, maybe as a way to seal his vow, he brought the small, trembling body closer to his chest, trying with all his might to instill in him the sense of security that only a father's embrace can give.

After silently witnessing the whole scene in solemn silence and stillness, smiles and some tears bloomed on the woman and the secret onlookers' faces. As the child shakily whimpered in his finally-found paternal figure's neck, his mother kneeled by his side, where Mozart's arm took her in as he pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. Their passionate reunion could wait for later that night, now all that mattered was being together, aware of each other's presence, warmth and smell. That was more than enough. “Thank you for coming back. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

Unfortunately for them though, an interruption soon came to disturb their peace. Low whispers came from behind the door, and the pianist's trained ear caught them with no effort.

"Woohoo, that was a good one, Wolfie!"

"Shouldn't we just go already? If he were to catch us he'd go on a rampage"

"Still, I wish I could give him a round of applause! It was really moving~"

Mozart turned his violet eyes, now chilly with cold annoyance, towards the source of the hushed voices, silencing them immediately. Though he would have to thank them for the note, he knew they wouldn't have let him hear the end of it with their teasing comments and jokes. Before his thoughts could take the highway to a possible massacre, Charles' brought his attention back to where it belonged.

"Papa... can you show me your piano?"

Such a simple request brought spring into his heart, once plunged into a state of eternal winter. Feeling his every cell overflowing with love and gratitude he simply nodded, adding: "Sure, shall we go?"

Well, his revenge could wait for later. Now he had a lot of catching up to do, both with his love and son, and making them wait longer was definitely unacceptable.

Perhaps Fate had truly decided to be a little kinder to him in his second life.

[echotrinityme]

You will be loved Chapter 16: A Confrontation

Henry was put on suicide watch and was still in the hospital, Galeforce, Charles, Ellie, Rupert, Dave, Victoria, and Henry's parents were coming up with a plan to help Henry get away from Dominic.

The General offered Terrence Suave and Randy Radman to stay on the base while Henry is in the hospital recovering, Victoria was instructed to find Dominic's whereabouts and to make sure he doesn't go nowhere near him.

Rupert and Dave informed everyone on base about Henry's situation, the reactions of the base were of course furious and they now wanted to help Henry.

Konrad and Calvin volunteered to help Victoria with her search for Dominic, Charles and Ellie won't leave Henry's side.

They have been visiting every day and talking with him, mostly about his relationship Dominic and how he met him.

Henry finally told them he almost got raped by a gang and that's when Dominic saved him, he was so nice back then.

"I didn't know you were talking with your dads, Henry." murmured Charles.

Henry was explaining how he met Dominic and Charles felt super guilty about that night, if it weren't for him listening to Calvin, Henry wouldn't have run away and Dominic wouldn't be abusing him.

"It's ok, I made mistakes too but at least now I'm getting help from you guys and everyone else." assured Henry.

"Yeah but I made a stupid mistake of listening to Calvin cause he led me to believe that you were talking to your special person."

"Guys, we need to think about what to do with Dominic?" added Ellie, who was sensing tension between them.

"Yeah." agreed Charles, he sighed and he rubbed his temple in irritation.

"But Henry, how come you didn't tell me or the General?" asked Charles, with sadness in his tone.

"Dominic threaten to kill me." said Henry, bowing his head down.

Charles and Ellie now have more reasons to help Henry, Dominic is dangerous now and they need to find him as soon as possible.

The door open and the others turned to see Rupert and Dave entered the room, they come by to see how Henry was doing.

"Hey Rupert, Hi Dave." said Charles, he waved at them and Ellie waved at them too.

"Hey, guys."said Rupert, he was exhausted and so was Dave.

"You look exhausted."

"Yeah, it's taking forever to find Dominic. It's just like he went AWOL and there's seem no trace of him." said Rupert, Dave nodded and he sat down on a chair.

"That doesn't mean he will come back to get Henry." said Charles, with an angry expression on his face.

"I'm a former police officer, Charles." said Rupert with an authoritative tone.

"I helped former victims escape their abusive partners and made sure they are safe. " he continued.

"I also did the some cases too." added Dave.

"However, not as much as Rupert."

They all heard a sniffle and they turned to see Henry sobbing quietly, Charles and Ellie immediately rushed to his side. Dave also went to his side but Rupert stayed at his spot.

"Hey Hen, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" questioned Charles who was hugging him gently, keeping mind of Henry's bandages.

"I don't deserved this." signed Henry while his tears were streaming down his face.

"No don't say that." said Ellie, she was rubbing his back softly.

"Henry, you are in trouble and need our help." said Charles.

Dave wanted to say something but he stopped himself because of poor word choice, Rupert on the other hand went up to Henry and he stared at him with determination.

"Henry, I know you have done some things like crime and theft in the past but you don't deserve to be in an abusive relationship." assured Rupert.

Henry was looking at him, his eyes red and glossy. He bowed his head and rubbed his temple.

"We will find Dominic and keep you safe."

Henry felt a little better after the motivation speech Rupert gave to him, he smiled for a bit.

Ellie had to leave to help Victoria so she left and said her goodbyes, Rupert and Dave had to go too and also said their goodbyes.

Charles and Henry are now all alone, they both stared at each then quickly turned their heads in embarrassment.

"Hey Hen...there's something I need to tell you." murmured Charles, he faced Henry who was trembling a little.

"What is it?" said Henry. He spoke for this question, he stared down at his bandages in morbid fascination.

Self-mutilation to some people is an escape, an addiction, a need to feel alive, and to make themselves feel pain. Henry never understood why people hurt themselves but now he knows.

Some people drink, some people smoke, he was never a drinker and a smoker. He chose the other option...cutting, that almost cost him his life if it weren't for Rupert and Dave.

"When we first met at the helicopter I piloted when you got kidnapped by the Government, I thought you were gonna betray us..."

Henry listened and Charles continued "But you didn't...instead you got us the evidence to take down the Tophat Clan."

"I was shocked that you wanted to join us after you got pardoned." explained Charles.

"We spent so much time together, to the point that I was developing a feeling...a warm feeling."

Henry continued listening to what Charles is saying to him, he was deep in thought. He wondered if he should confess his feelings to him before something bad happens to him.

"You see...I have feelings for you." whispered Charles.

Henry's mind went blank for a moment, did he hear that right? Did  Charles confessed to him he has feelings for him? Henry blinked and shook his head.

"Henry?" asked Charles, tentatively.

"What did you say?" questioned Henry, slowly.

" I said, I have feelings for you." repeated Charles.

That's what he said alright, he was not hearing things. He waited so long to hear those words coming from Charles' mouth, however he thought he was too late because certain things that he can't control.

"How long?"

"Since you joined us, Hen."

"I see."

There was a heavy silence after the exchange, Charles bit his lip and waiting for Henry to say something, Henry was looking at him with a small smile on his face.

"I have feelings for you too." said Henry, his face flushed.

Charles stared at him for a moment, he had heard the one thing he's been wanting to hear from him. He was ecstatic! Despite Henry being in a relationship, he stilled had feelings for Charles.

Without warning, Charles leaned into Henry's lips and kissed him. Henry blinked but kissed back, it was a passionate kiss. Henry held Charles'face with his right hand while his left was still holding Charles' left hand.

They stopped to breathe for a moment, their faces were red but they both needed that. Charles wanted Henry but got manipulated by Calvin and it cost Henry to get into a abusive relationship with Dominic.

Charles leaned his forehead onto Henry's and they both smiled for the first time in ages, no matter what happens, Charles will protect him.

"Ahem." said a voice out of nowhere, they both jumped and turned to see The General, Terrance Suave, and Randy Radman standing in front of them.

Henry's Dads stared at Charles like they wanted him to get away from him while Galeforce shook his head in amusement, Charles felt intimidated by the two men who were glaring at him.

If looks can kill, he will be already 6 feet under. Henry on the other hand was snickering quietly and his expression was interesting to say the least, he quickly signed them that Charles was not a threat.

"You must be Charles." said Terrance, he had his arms crossed and leaned towards him with an angry expression on his face.

"Yeah, who are you exactly?" questioned Charles.

"The name's Terrance Suave and this is my husband Randy Radman."

He introduced himself and pointed to the colorful man who was waving at them, who watching his husband trying to be intimidated towards Charles.

"We are Henry's dads." added Randy.

"Oh! Henry told me about you guys...you look familiar and I don't know why."

Charles sheepishly said that and he rubbed his head awkwardly, he turned to Galeforce for help who expression's didn't change.

"Why am I like this? thought Charles.

"Yeah and where the fuck is this Dominic guy?" interrogated Terrance.

"We don't know but we promise we will find him, Mr. Suave." said Galeforce, his expression finally changing into seriousness.

"Good, I don't want that son of a bitch near my son." growled Terrance, his husband noticed he was getting angry and went to calm him down.

Charles was still holding Henry's left head and Randy noticed this and motioned Terrance to witness the intimate act between them.

Randy smirked at him and Terrance decided to pull aside to talk to him, leaving Randy alone with Henry and Galeforce.

"Uh sir? Why did you pull me out of the hall? asked Charles, he was nervous about this.

"To talk." replied Terrance, his tone emotionalness.

"About?"

"Your feelings for Henry." stated Terrance bluntly.

Charles was caught off guard by that statement, he never expected Terrance to figure it out his feelings for Henry. Was he that an open book?

"What about my feelings for Henry?"

"You love him...don't you?"

"Yes, I realized that I love him from very beginning." said Charles, in his sincerest voice.

"Then how come you're not with him? How come he's with that...animal?" questioned Terrance, his voice low and cold.

Charles recoiled in fear and took a step back from Terrance, Terrance has a point. Why wasn't he with Henry? And why is he with an abusive asshole? He can't answer both questions.

They were both manipulated and it hurt like hell. Charles look down at his hands and his vision blurred with tears, Terrance saw that Charles was beginning to cry and he put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Look kid, I don't know what you have been through lately but I know you love him and wouldn't hurt him."

Charles stared up at him, his tears streaking down his face and Terrance felt bad for him.

"However, the only way for both of you to be happy is to win him over." continued Terrance.

"You'll have to protect him from Dominic and if you see him...shoot the bastard." finished Terrance, firmly.

Charles stopped crying and stared at him in shock, he wiped his tears to give him a determined look on his face. He nodded at him in agreement and Terrance smiled at him.

"Oh and one more thing." said Terrance to Charles before they headed inside.

"What?" asked Charles, curiously.

"If you fail to protect Henry, I will fucking kill you." threaten Terrance, he walk back inside without another glance at Charles.

Charles on the hand, was scared out of his mind. He has to work harder now, he doesn't want to let Henry and his dads down. He sighed, hoping if there's a light at the end of the dark tunnel they all in.

It's been a couple of days and Henry was allowed to go home but he needed to see a therapist, he was ok with it as long it will help him get better.

Henry was not allowed near his apartment and he temporarily moved in with Charles to make sure Dominic doesn't find him, Charles took extra measures on taking care of Henry.

He put all sharp objects hidden away and did most of the housework, Henry was a bit annoyed cause he felt helpless but Charles assured him he's not.

Charles was cleaning up some stuff when he looked at the clock, it was 4:30. Henry should be back from therapy now, he waited and waited.

When it was 5:30, he was worried about Henry. He went to the General's office to inform him he's going to look for Henry, Galeforce nodded him and to remind him to be careful.

Charles searched for places where Henry could be, which is not alot since he's been kept on a tight leash. He decided to search Henry's apartment and he found that Henry's door was opened.

He peeked in and looked around and heart stopped on what he saw, Dominic was holding Henry by the neck and he was struggling to get free.

Charles burst in with a gun in his hand mako the other two jumped by suprise, they saw Charles and Dom while still holding Henry pulled out his own gun and aimed at Charles.

They both stared at each in anger and Henry started to sob quietly making Charles' heart broke.

"Well if it isn't Charles Calvin." sneered Dominic,nastily.

[castielista]

Lasers and distractions

A Cherik laser tag AU

So, this little fic is the first one I ever write, and it has encouraged me to keep writing. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and please, feel free to leave your opinion or criticism, I’d adore that. <3.

Prompt: the old but gold "take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. Then shoot me and walk away"

Words: 1508

Read it on Ao3

Charles, Erik and their colleagues go laser tagging, a game in which Charles has always excelled. But Erik turns out to be much better than him, and Charles is very distracted by that fact.

“Fuck." Sean fell awkwardly on the ground.

By the time he lifted his head up to identify his shooter, Erik had put his gun aside and was already far away, moving silently, searching for his next victim.

Charles watched it from a safe distance.

The afternoon the group decided going laser tagging, mainly at Hank and Raven's insistence, every single one of them had bragged about how skilled they were at this kind of games. And Charles, maybe more than anyone else, had boasted about his rather excellent aim, and his top-notch ability to sense enemies at a considerable distance.

"Darlings, you really believe you stand the slightest of chances?" he had said solemnly, his finger pointed towards them. "You'll witness what a telepath is capable of," he threatened, knowing that, as always, he would suppress his powers.

Since he was a child, Charles had thought that using his powers to get ahead was unfair, so in those games, he lowered them to a minimum. Erik, of course, couldn't disagree more on this choice. Nevertheless, now that his rivals were fellow mutants, Charles considered loosening up his powers a bit, and either way, he had already enjoyed himself terrorizing his colleagues, who knew deep down that Charles was far more powerful than he deliberately appeared.

But then there was Erik. He hadn't said a word in the whole afternoon until he directed a sly look towards Charles, insinuated a smile, and with the most innocent of voices he said something that no one really understood, "I will love seeing you do that, Charles.”

Now Charles understood what that had been all about. He most certainly did. By the end of the first fifteen minutes, more than a half of them were out of the game, and those left had been intelligent enough to stay as far away from Erik as possible.

And from his hiding place, Charles watched him in genuine awe.

He was dangerous (worryingly so, taking into account that they were only playing with harmless guns), but he couldn't possibly get his eyes off him. Erik didn't give away the slightest sign of unrest, and looked as if he was having a real blast of his own massacre. His gestures were subtle, deadly-aimed, as he got close, fired and vanished again. Never hesitated. His body always delicate as a feather and precise as a fine watch.

He looked like a dancer.

Charles thought that had to be the most erotic thing he had seen in his life. They had been together for more than eight years, and one would think that by that time they would have got used to each other’s quirks, but he kept finding it mesmerizing whenever he caught these glimpses of Erik being so... Erik.

He was so absorbed by it that if it wasn't for the skills that he had previously bragged about (and that he did possess), he was sure he would've been knocked out at the very beginning.

After a while, he shook his head. Enough was enough, he decided. It was time he took action. Erik could be an unstoppable force of nature (and an absolute delight to watch), but until that moment, Charles had been unbeatable. He prepared his gun and targeted Erik, trusting his brilliant aim.

But he blinked and his prey was gone.

Well, he thought, he should have seen it coming. It would’ve been too easy. Charles grunted as he lowered his gun and turned around to take a quick look. Maybe Raven wa-

"Charles."

It took him a millisecond longer than usual to pull the trigger, and when he tried, Erik had already taken his gun away from him with insulting ease.

"Erik?"

How could he..? How in hell did he manage to get there so easily?

Now Erik stood still in front of him. God, damn him and his natural elegance. Charles' eyes wandered mindlessly over his figure and for a moment he felt as if Erik had done the same, but he was too distracted to know it for sure.

"Charles, love, I can protect you. We could form an alliance, if you wanted."

An alliance? He sounded perfectly calm as he looked around. He was telling the truth, Charles told himself, brushing the very surface of Erik's mind and checking his words.

"You... you are amazing at this. Where did you... how did you find me?" Charles tried forcing his voice to sound even. He failed.

"I’ve been feeling watched for a while now." Charles could almost see himself blushing. Erik seemed incredibly serious, but there was a suspicious twinkle in his eyes. "Come on, Emma must be close," he said, returning Charles his gun and moving in front of him in order to protect him. "Follow me."

Charles hesitated. He would've sworn that Emma was already out.

But Erik's hand settled on his shoulder wanting to guide him, and instinctively, he followed him. Of course he did. He would've followed him to the ends of the earth. Even if in this game he was not completely sure of his intentions, Charles knew Erik wouldn't let anyone shoot him. At least, he thought, any other that Erik himself. No one trusted him as deeply as Charles, and they were both well aware that this utter faith was entirely mutual.

At that moment, more than anything else, Charles wanted to play Erik's game. He wanted to stop reading his thoughts and let Erik guide his curious mind, so that's what he did. They walked through halls and walls for a couple of minutes, ready to fire, guiding, protecting and trusting each other.

Suddenly, Erik turned abruptly towards a hidden corner, grabbing Charles from the collar and dragging him along. As they turned around, with his usual finesse Erik used the motion to place the telepath's back against the wall, while he kept a hand on his shoulder and trapped Charles with his weight.

They locked eyes for a moment, expectant, restless.

It was Erik who, after making sure there was no one near them, finally made the last inches that kept them apart disappear, kissing Charles fiercely, as if that would be the goal of the game.

Charles offered resistance for less than a second, before he helplessly let himself go into Erik's lure. Immediately, he moved one arm over his shoulders, and began petting Erik’s hair, which had been perfectly combed until that moment. Erik did the same with Charles, digging his fingertips into his much messier hair, toying with brown strands. As he did that, Erik's mouth started wandering around the side of Charles' neck, and left a handful of kisses there.

Charles let out a soft moan and felt its impact on Erik's mind, who felt encouraged and began biting the skin between neck and collarbone.

In the midst of that cloud of love, arousal and desire, Charles realized that he could easily reach for his gun. It only required a simple gesture, and he would most certainly win.

He didn't do it.

"I- I love you... Erik," Charles murmured.

He couldn't help it. Charles tended to be excessively verbal when they made love, or when he simply felt overwhelmed by Erik, and damn it, he was feeling overwhelmed by him at the moment. Though he often complained about his inability to shut up, Charles knew for a fact that Erik actually loved when he did that.

So maybe it was that what changed Erik's expression. The sheer desire in his eyes became a much more affectionate stare, and he slowed down the rhythm, as if he wanted to take a moment between kisses to study Charles carefully. Then he placed a hand on his cheek and brushed his thumb over Charles' lower lip. And he let out a sincere smile.

Surprised, or maybe just fascinated by Erik's last reaction, the telepath gave into the more languid pace, and he returned the smile. Because he felt, indeed, happy. Because with Erik, the complex and dazzling Erik, he felt at home.

By now, the kisses had stopped. They pressed their foreheads together, both seized by a soft feeling of euphoria, filling silence with their shallow breathing. And Charles knew, he was willing to make that little moment last forever.

A noise. Sudden. Metallic.

Charles' eyes opened in an almost comical way. “Erik?” he wanted to say, but his throat had stopped working.

Did he just...? Now, Erik couldn't stop grinning, satisfied. Without getting his eyes off Charles', he tenderly dragged a lock of brown hair away from his face, and put aside his gun as silently as he had pulled it out. There was a red light on Charles' vest. Of course he did.

For the last time, Erik crossed the little distance that was left between them, and pressed his lips lightly on Charles', "We can continue this later. I wanted to take care of you personally.” Then, he drew back, looked at Charles tenderly, and just before turning away and leaving, he said, "I love you, Charles."

Thank you so so much for reading <3

[banditthewriter]

Trust Is Earned - Charles Vane - 6

Here we are at part 6! Thanks to everyone for their reactions to this story. I’m enjoying reading your theories. 

Warning: Descriptions of violence and torture

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

------

There had been plenty of noise from the front of the shop but you ignored it in favor of working on the dress you had bought the fabric for. As you started to work on the stitching around the hem, you heard voices rise sharply. One familiar voice brought you out of your rooms and into the shop immediately.

Just outside of the door to the shop, which was barely open a crack, was Billy Bones trying to strong arm his way past four of The Ranger crew.  

“What in God’s name is going on here? Release him this instant,” you demanded as you pushed past the men that were surrounding Billy. 

“The captain told us to stop anyone from coming into the shop,” one of the men said indignantly as you shoved at his arm.

“Oh did he? Well perhaps he meant anyone that means me harm and I promise that The Walrus boatswain does not mean me harm. Let him pass.”

The men obviously didn’t want to disobey Vane but you could be intimidating when you wanted to be. They must have collectively decided it would be easier to explain to Vane than it was to stop you because they released Billy and let him follow you into the shop.

They didn’t let you shut the door though.

With the four of them just outside of the shop, you directed Billy to follow you into your rooms. God help the man that tried to storm into your private living space without your permission.

“I thought The Walrus was out on a hunt.”

“We were. Caught an easy prize on the way to our lead, needed to bring the perishables back to Nassau before we go back out.” After a beat of barely there silence, “Why the fuck are four gunners from The Ranger repairing your front door?”

“Possibly because their captain was the one that originally broke the front door,” you said as you went over to where your dress was waiting for you.

“Never mind that. What the fuck happened to your face?”

Ever the eloquent gentleman. You reached up and touched the swollen skin around your eye before you turned back to Billy.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” you said evenly. “Would you like some tea? I might have some rum hidden somewhere if that’s–”

“Stop with the pleasantries and tell me what the fuck is going on Y/N.”

You rubbed the bridge of your nose as you turned away from Billy. This conversation had been inevitable but you had thought you’d have a little more time to figure out a way to put it succinctly.

“I was attacked. Captain Vane has loaned me some of his men until the culprits have been… dealt with.”

Billy marched across the room and grabbed your arm, pulling you around to face him.

“Did he do this to you? Is that why you’re scared? Is he holding you prisoner here?”

You shook your head sadly.

“That’s a lot of questions Billy,” you admonished softly, knowing you needed to get him to calm down before he made a serious mistake. “No, Captain Vane didn’t do this to me, no I’m not scared of him, and no I’m not being held prisoner in my own home. Like I said, they are keeping me safe.”

Billy reached up to touch your face, the corner of your mouth where the split lip was starting to heal. Then he reached down to check under the cloth around your neck. You watched as fury crossed his face at the sight.

“Who did this to you?”

You tried to push his hand away from your neck but he wouldn’t budge.

“I have already said that it’s being dealt with. I don’t need you to run off half cocked and make things worse.”

You hadn’t meant to say that, but the words came out in a rush anyways. Billy’s fingers tightened on the edge of the cloth around your neck until you could feel the strain of it against the back of your neck.

“This is his fault, isn’t it? Vane. No one would have a reason to go after you, you’re just a candle maker. It has to be his fault.”

A laugh poured from your lips at that. You weren’t sure why you were laughing, because he had called you just a candle maker or because he blamed Vane when the events of late could all be traced back to Billy’s decision to bring Silver to your shop.

Either way, you laughed until your lips hurt. Billy had loosened his grip on the cloth, surprised by your sudden onset of mirth. Then his hand went around the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

“I’ve heard what they’ve said on the beach about you and him. I know it’s bullshit, I just don’t know why you’re going along with it. What does he have over you? I can help you, you know that I can. I’ll take you to the beach, take you to The Walrus. We can have Eleanor Guthrie help us.”

You reached up and cupped Billy’s cheek, your smile sincere as you stared up at him. There had always been something so earnestly pure about Billy, pirate though he was. There was a softness about him that he let out around you, around anyone he cared about. It was that sweetness that you had attached to, to allow it to grow without realizing what it meant.

He was half in love with you and you didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t fair to him.

“What you’ve heard about us is simply how it is. I don’t need protection from him.”

Billy reached up to cover the hand you had on his face.

“He’s a monster Y/N.”

You opened your mouth to say that no, he was simply a pirate, but you didn’t have the chance. A different voice cut in instead.

“Is that right?”

Both you and Billy turned to the door where Vane stood. It probably wouldn’t have been such a shock if he hadn’t also been covered in blood with his sword still in hand. 

Billy immediately pushed you behind him, his hand going to his hip but finding no sword to draw. You knew that you probably only had a short time to diffuse the situation before there was bloodshed. That in mind you carefully walked around Billy to place yourself between the two pirates.

“Billy, you need to leave. The Walrus needs you, it’ll be leaving soon for the hunt. Come now, I’ll walk you out.”

You gave Vane a glare but he merely raised an eyebrow as you grabbed Billy’s arm and began to pull him from your rooms. Billy went along, but you could feel some resistance. You had done right to mention his ship and the fact that the men needed him. Hopefully he was more duty bound to them than he was to you at that moment.

“Y/N, he’s–”

“I’m well aware of what he is, Billy Bones. Now you need to get back to your ship and I need to… get back inside. Please,” you added when it seemed that Billy wasn’t going to budge.

Finally he nodded and turned to leave. There weren’t any men outside of the shop anymore so perhaps Vane had dismissed them when he got there. As Billy made his way down the road and out of sight, you let out a sigh and shut the door to your shop. It closed easily, more locks added to the inside for you to use.

Once that was done, you took a deep breath and made you way back into your rooms.

Vane was at the water basin against the far wall, his hands turning the water pinkish and then red as he wiped off the dried blood there. It was also on his clothes, but that was a lost cause.

You walked over and grabbed a cloth that was usually used to dry one's hands. You dipped it into the water before you reached up to start to wipe the blood from his forehead first.

“The boatswain come to save you from the monster?”

You gave him a baleful stare before you continued your work.

“Because of the attack and things he finds to be impossible,” you said softly as you ran the cloth over the bridge of his nose and then across his cheekbone. “He’s not sure how these things are happening to just a candle maker.”

Vane’s hand reached up to grasp your wrist. He didn’t use his grasp to pull your hand away or to guide the movements. It was almost as if he just wanted to touch you.

“You’re not just a candle maker.”

Warmth filled you at those words, but you didn’t react. Instead you switched hands so that you could ring the rag out and start on the other side of his face. 

“Am I to assume this is the blood of my attackers?”

“It’s not my own,” he said in a lilting voice, a tease. When you didn’t give him even a smile for the joke, he sighed. “It’s not Eleanor Guthrie’s either, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“It’d crossed my mind,” you admitted as you moved the cloth across his jaw and then down over his neck. “Do we know if it was her behind it?”

He pulled away from you at that. With a dry cloth in hand, he turned away and went over towards the fire.

“Found a promissory note on one of the men. Wasn’t signed, but it was her handwriting. I dropped it on her desk… in the hand of the man who had it.”

You closed your eyes at that confession. He’d dropped a severed hand on Eleanor Guthrie’s desk while standing covered in blood. It was a miracle he’d made it out alive.

Or maybe not a miracle. As much as Eleanor seemed to hate Vane, she never made the moves to actually rid herself of him. Perhaps you could understand why.

“I’m assuming that won’t end favorably.”

“I simply told her that an attack against you was an attack against me in my eyes and that if anyone else had concerns about my ability to lead my men, they would do best to bring those complaints to me directly.”

Days ago you had been assuring Eleanor that there was nothing going on between you and Vane and now he was dropping a bloodied hand on her desk and declaring the two of you to be some sort of unit.

You thought about how it was with Jack and Anne. They were both their own entities to be sure, Jack Rackham the quartermaster to The Ranger and Anne Bonny a feared and infamous pirate in her own right, but they were also a pair. It was Jack and Anne, Anne and Jack, rarely one without the other.

Is that what the future held for you and Vane? To be spoken of in the same breath even if you were alone. How many of your conversations or interactions lately had centered around your fictional attachment to the captain?

And that was the rub of it all. This was all happening due to a fiction that the two of you had created. You had a business partnership that was lucrative and profitable, but that was it.

You weren’t even sure you could consider Vane a friend.

“Thank you for what you did,” you finally said as you settled back down into the chair where you had been working on your dress. “I know that you didn’t do it for me but because it was a threat to you, but I’m still grateful that I won’t have to sleep with one eye open for now.”

Vane turned away from the fire and looked over at you. He tossed the cloth he had grabbed onto the table with the basin, not caring that it fell into the water. He took a few strides until he was in front of you. You watched as he reached out, those fingers gently caressing your cheek and down your jaw, much like you had done when you cleaned his face.

“Of course I did it for you.”

Those words were beyond unexpected. You could feel your body heat rising in reaction, butterflies erupting in your stomach. Before you had a chance to process the words, to even think about a response, he dropped his hand and headed over towards the door.

“I’ll keep at least one of my men here with you for a while, to make sure there won’t be any repercussions.”

He gave a quick nod in your direction and then he was gone.

And you? You were left with a mind swirling with things you weren’t sure you could ever truly figure out.

------

The garden had been long neglected so you decided to spend part of the day with your hands in the soil. The Ranger had been at sea for almost a week and it had been the most mundane week you’d had in months. People shopped, you made deliveries, you joined friends at the tavern for meals. 

One difference is that you had a shadow for these things. The man that Vane had left with you was named Edgar. He was large and looked mean, but you’d found him to be the most polite pirate you’d had the pleasure of dealing with in a long time. 

You refused to let him sleep outside and he refused to sleep on the couch in your front room so the compromise was a cot that he slept on in the shop. You made sure he ate, tried to make him leave your side to enjoy the whores at the brothel while you ate in the tavern, but he was a good sentry. 

He stayed nearby while you tended to the garden, listening to you as you talked aloud to the plants and discussed the different uses for the herbs that you usually grew. Your neglect of the garden meant a lot of the plants looked unfit for use, but you were determined to fix your mistake.

“Hasn’t been enough rain for those,” a voice said from the other side of the fenced in garden you were in.

You looked up and smiled at Captain Flint who was looking at the proof of your hard work. Edgar edged around the garden while you stayed on your knees in the dirt, his hand on his side where his pistol was. You gave a brief shake of your head to call him off but you knew he wouldn’t stand down until Flint left.

“I’ve been remiss in my gardening habits,” you admitted as you looked around at your handiwork. “Are you much of a gardener?”

“I like to learn a little about a lot of different things,” he admitted as he fingered one of the tomato plants near the fence. “Do you sell from the garden or is it just for you?”

You stood up and dusted off your skirt as best you could.

“I sell some, but mostly it’s just for myself. This is a large garden and I’m just one person. Usually,” you said as you shot a look over at Edgar. 

He didn’t seem to notice that you were talking about him.

“Your man. He’s one of Vane’s, isn’t he?”

You hadn’t had many interactions with Captain Flint, but the ones you’d had told you that he rarely asked a question if he didn’t have a good idea of the answer. You knew that no conversation with him was just one thing. He was always putting a double meaning in his words.

“He is.”

Flint looked from you to Edgar. You could see the calculating look on his face before he spoke next.

“Would he allow me to take you for a short walk?”

You were sure that he wouldn’t like it, but you had an idea. 

“Of course. Edgar, you’ll watch the shop while I walk with Captain Flint, won’t you?”

Edgar was already shaking his head but you hurried around the fence to where Flint was standing.

“Surely I’ll be safe with Captain Flint. It’ll be up to you to keep the shop safe in my absence.”

The men of The Ranger knew that you were the reason they were making the money they made currently so they knew it was in their best interest to keep you and your shop safe. Plus Vane had made the demand so it was to be followed to the letter.

In this case, you had boxed the man in. He couldn’t say no without causing a scene and he wasn’t aware that it wasn’t particularly necessary to keep the shop open.

Plus you didn’t think it would matter much if Edgar was with you or not. If Flint wanted to kill you or kidnap you, there was likely not much one man alone could do. Edgar obviously knew that because he gave a nod to you and stepped back.

Flint offered you his arm and you accepted it gratefully. He had an air about him, the same one that made you think he was part of the Navy before he came to Nassau. The residual air of a gentleman made him a good choice for Eleanor Guthrie’s favorite pirate. At least now that she wasn’t sleeping with Vane.

“Is there a reason that Vane is keeping one of his best in the vanguard here to watch your shop?”

You knew that accepting his offer to take a walk would leave you open to an inquiry like this. While you couldn’t be sure what he was planning, you were confident that you could keep up with him.

“I was attacked a week ago. He left his man with me for protection, but like I said, I’m sure I’ll be safe with you today.”

It was a pointed jibe that he didn’t respond to. Instead he directed you down the winding path that led from the store and towards the beach.

“It does make me wonder how you plan on continuing the act of being neutral if you’re sharing a bed with Charles Vane.”

Gone was that gentlemanly air, replaced by the steel of the pirate captain that everyone in Nassau knew and feared. You tried to subtly pull your arm from his grasp but he didn’t let you. Instead he tugged you down the path a little harder. 

“It’s not an act, Captain Flint, and who I’m sharing a bed with doesn’t change that. I think you’ll remember that I shared a bed with one of your crew for the last few years and yet you had no qualms about my ability to be neutral then, did you?”

It might not have been the best plan to antagonize the man, but you weren’t happy with this particular line of questioning. From others, maybe, but from someone on The Walrus? From this captain? It angered you enough that you forgot that you could very well be in trouble.

Your free hand went to your pocket where the dagger that Vane had given you sat. Hopefully you wouldn’t need to use it today.

“The difference as best as I can tell is that you were merely sleeping with my boatswain. This affair with Vane is a different sort.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard something like that either. What was it about Vane that made people think that this wasn’t just a casual thing between the two of you? People heard that you and Vane were intimate and they assumed wedding bells. Or something permanent at least.

“I assure you that what I have with Vane, while none of your business, is as casual as what I had with Billy.”

The two of you stopped and you looked forward to see where you were. You hadn’t noticed that you had been leading off the main path and towards the trees until that moment. In front of you strung from a large tree were two men, naked as the day they were born. 

Their bodies were starting to decompose, animals picking at the corpses. They were both beaten beyond recognition, their bodies mutilated horribly. Across each of their chests was carved the word ‘revenge’. 

You gasped and looked away.

“Casual. If this is what Vane does for a casual dalliance, I’d hate to see him seriously involved.”

Flint came in from behind you, but he didn’t hurt you. He simply gripped your chin and forced you to look at the bodies again.

“Recognize them? I’d understand if you can’t since their faces have been caved in. They were members of the crew of The Tempest. They’re the men that attacked you.”

You saw that one of them indeed only had one hand. The other had been deposited on Eleanor’s desk.

Flint wasn’t here for you. He wasn’t here for Billy or for the members of The Tempest, not even really here for Vane. He was here because of what happened with Eleanor. 

He needed to protect his source of income, just like Vane did with you. 

“Your concern has been noted,” you said fiercely as you pulled your chin out of his grasp. Then you did more and took a step away from him, from the bodies. “Perhaps this conversation would be better had with Vane instead of with me as I’m not in control of his actions.”

Not that you actually expected the two of them to ever sit down to talk. Flint and Vane were at odds more often than not. They had in common that they were pirate captains in Nassau, but that was the end of it. From there the two men were almost as different as night and day, if both were as dark as midnight and dangerous as a pit of vipers.

Maybe they did have more in common than you originally thought.

“I am going to go back to my shop before Edgar decides to see what is taking me so long on this walk. As always, Captain Flint, it’s been a pleasure.”

You didn’t want to turn your back on him but you didn’t have any choice. It took every ounce of your willpower not to turn and look behind you. Instead you walked with purpose back up the street and towards your shop.

Edgar was still where you had left him. When you walked past him with the intention of going into the shop for a moment to regain your composure, he grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him.

“If you do something like that again, I’ll lock you in your shop until the captain gets back.”

You glared up at him and yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You could try but I promise it would not end well for you. And if you put your hands on me again without my permission, I’ll gladly bury a dagger into your throat. That is the only warning you’ll get from me.”

You stormed away from Edgar and into the shop, slamming the door and locking it as well.

Then you fell to your knees in the middle of the floor, desperate to catch the breath that seemed to have been knocked out of you weeks ago. 

How had things gotten so out of hand?

X

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[adenei]

Auror 99 - Chapter 9

Hey y’all! Sorry about the hiatus with this one. I’m so stoked to share that the inspiration is back and I’ll hopefully be back into this one to finish it out!

Slow State of Affairs

The next few days moved slowly. Despite various stakeouts and more research on the state of Vampire affairs in the United States, England, and Italy, they still had very little on Gerteso. He hadn’t been spotted at all entering MACUSA. It was starting to feel more and more like a wild goose chase than anything because they weren’t making any progress. 

Hermione had taken to spending her free time reading Amy’s Harry Potter books. Amy had been kind enough to go back to her apartment and get the rest so that Hermione could see what Rita had written. Ron and Harry had no interest in reading them, so Hermione would just share how accurate they were, which was incredible. Hermione had become convinced that Rita had other unregistered Animagi working for her, and their sole job was to spy on Harry and gather as much possible information as they could.

“You read faster than me,” Amy had commented when Hermione had finished the first three books in two days. “Would now be a good time to tell you that there are also movies?” she asked hesitantly.

Hermione had just taken Goblet of Fire off of the table. She looked at Amy. “What? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Um...no. Should I not have said that? I thought you might want to watch them, too.” Hermione’s jaw dropped as Amy went on quickly. “They’re really not as good compared to the books! The screenwriters....they really changed a lot with the char- I mean, with you all. We don’t have to watch them if you don’t want-”

“Oh, we’re watching them. As soon as the guys get back from their stakeout today.”

“What’d I miss?” Rosa asked as she came in the door. She’d been at the station in a briefing with Captain Holt and Kingsley. 

“Just making plans for the evening. Any news?” Hermione directed the conversation back to the case.

“Still nothing. Jake and Charles haven’t seen anything. Not sure what the other two are up to. Shouldn’t you be researching the case and not what some bitch wrote about your lives?” Rosa raised her eyebrow in question at Hermione.

“I’ve researched everything I possibly can. Until we get a trace on Gerteso, I won’t know any more than I already do.” It was true. 

They knew Gerteso’s motive, they’d learned everything they could about how the vampires worked, even down to known hangouts and possible headquarters. But there’d been no movement to suggest anything was happening. So, Hermione had taken solace in the books. 

Hermione continued to ponder Rosa’s words as she set the children’s book down, her mind wandering back to the case. Harry and Ron were staking out different vampire hangouts in an attempt to get more information on the Cryptic, while Jake and Charles manned the entrance to MACUSA. Could there be an angle they hadn’t yet taken in the attempts of making a breakthrough?

Her thoughts were interrupted as Jake and Charles walked through the door with Chinese takeout in hand for the evening. “Anything new?” Amy asked them hopefully.

“Nada,” Charles said as Jake shook his head. 

“Whoever this guy is, he must relish in taking his time.” Jake said in frustration.

“Well, if he’s taking his time, there has to be some reason for it,” Rosa added.

“But what is it? That’s what we can’t figure out,” Hermione thought out loud. 

Continuously stumped over it, she shook her head and checked her watch. Harry and Ron should be back soon. As if on cue, her husband and best friend walked in the door with a simple shake of their heads. Once again, no luck.

Everyone sighed as they began tucking into the food. They were all tired and losing motivation. Something needed to give, and fast. In an effort to make conversation, Amy said, “So, Hermione and I are going to watch the Sorcerer’s Stone tonight. Maybe even Chamber of Secrets if it’s not too late.”

Harry and Ron both looked up. “What’s she mean ‘watch Sorcerer’s Stone?’ Hermione?” Ron was looking back and forth between Amy and his wife.

Hermione let out a deep sigh as Boyle said, “You didn’t know there are movies, too?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harry said.

“Bloody buggering hell,” Ron muttered.

“If you don’t want to watch it, I’m sure I could download the second Die Hard. There’s more than one TV here…” Jake suggested.

Harry and Ron thought about it. “We should probably watch it. At least we’re not watching ourselves...just watching people act like us.”

Amy looked excited, but also nervous. “I feel like I should warn you, as an avid fan, the books are MUCH better than the movies.”

“What d’you mean by that?” Ron asked.

“Well, the first few movies are a fairly good adaptation of the books, but as they go on, stuff gets left out or changed.”

“Wait, so it’s bad enough the story of my life is in a children’s series, then it was made into movies, and those movies don’t even do the books justice?” Harry said in dismay. “Can this get any worse?”

“Well, not really for you, no,” Boyle said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked.

“You’ll see,” Charles immediately went back to his food. Ron looked at Amy for further clarification.

“The screenwriters changed some of the characters. But we may not even get to the later movies, so I wouldn’t worry about it,” Amy said quickly.

“Great,” Harry said. 

They all finished their meal and cleaned up before settling in the living area for the movie. Harry and Ron gladly took a beer from Jake who was offering them up. Maybe alcohol would make the experience easier. They settled into the movie, and by the time they reached the end, Hermione had to admit that, all things considered, it wasn’t terrible. She didn’t speak at first, though. Instead, she waited for Harry and Ron’s reaction.

“Of all the stink people gave about my eyes growing up, they chose an actor who didn’t even have green eyes?” Harry finally said. Everyone burst into laughter at that, and the tension seemed to be released from the air. 

“I suppose it was fairly close, all things considered,” Hermione acknowledged.

“Ron, were you really that much of a badass on the chess board?” Jake asked.

“I- yeah, I guess. They downplayed the injury, though,” Ron said as his ears turned pink.

“Well, it is a kid’s movie,” Rosa commented. 

“How close was the depiction of Voldemort?” Amy asked eagerly. 

“Er, pretty close. Quirrell really was the perfect host,” Harry told her. “And the turban was the perfect disguise to cover him up.” 

“I always did wonder how well Voldemort breathed in that thing,” Ron said, as everyone chuckled and agreed.

The conversation had continued on about the various characters and how closely the characters did or didn’t match their real life counterpart. But Hermione had stopped listening. She was stuck on something that Harry had said. The word disguise kept playing over and over in her mind.

Suddenly, Hermione looked up at the rest of the group around the room. “That’s it!” 

“What? Hermione, we might need to have a talk if Alan Rickman as Snape gets you off…” Ron joked.

“I- What?” Hermione looked at him. She didn’t let the confusion of his words bother her for very long, though. “Nevermind that. What if Gerteso is using a disguise to get in and out of MACUSA?”

“What makes you say that?” Jake asked.

“Well, you’ve been staking out the entrance every day. After the altercation in the alley, he’s bound to remember you! He’s been so secretive and getting away with things for so long. Of course he’s not moving around in the open, especially now that he knows we’re onto him! He must be disguising himself!”

Realization began to dawn on everyone. “You know, Hermione, you might just be onto something!” Harry said.

“And we’ve been spending all this time in underground vampire bars, when we should be watching MACUSA!” Ron said. “Hermione, you really are a genius!”

Hermione blushed at his words. Even after years of marriage, his praise always meant the world to her. Instead of thanking him though, she said, “Always the tone of surprise,” as she smiled at him. 

It was always their ‘thing’ that they said to each other, though perhaps the whole world also knew, too. She’d have to make a note to check for that when she got to the seventh book. If Rita did have such close tabs on them, even during the hunt, she had to give her credit for not selling them out to Voldemort…

“...Earth to Hermione,” she heard Jake say, “So what do you suggest tomorrow’s plan be, then?”

“Oh..right, sorry. Well, Harry and Ron should probably go investigate in the wand records office tomorrow.”

“But we don’t know what we’re investigating,” Harry said. “It’s not like we know The Cryptic’s actual name.”

Hermione furrowed her brow as she thought about what Harry had said. He was right, but before she could work it out herself, Amy chimed in. “What if you don’t need to know his name? Is there a visitor log you can track?”

“Yes! There’s a general sign in at the lobby, and another more detailed one in the wand records office. They don’t typically let anyone in that office.” Hermione answered.

“So if Gerteso’s been there, we’ll have a way to see what he was looking for,” Boyle said.

“Or what he found!” Jake added.

“And if he hasn’t been yet, he’s still working out a plan to get what he’s looking for successfully,” said Rosa. “If that’s the case, we’ll be more prepared to catch him.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Hermione’s mind was in overdrive, formulating details for tomorrow. “Now, we plan.”

[sambergscott]

i'll promise that i'll love you for the rest of my life

one giving the other flowers, as requested by @rosalitadiazz AGES ago, also dedicated to @397bartonstreet for the initial idea of amy sleeping in/just being the best and @nine-niall for helping with the marriage highlight reel.... and for making me listen to heartbreak weather on repeat for the last few days and coming up with this title

happy anniversary to jake and amy!!! (also since the ep aired 2 years ago today i'm not *technically* late thank u very much)

One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes after marrying Amy Santiago (or, two years), every moment is as wonderful as day one. He still feels the same rush of excitement when he sees her waiting by their car at the end of a shift, the same swell of pride when she introduces him to someone as her husband, the same “oh my god we’re actually married” moment when he catches her rings glinting in the sunlight. It’s been the best one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes of his life. And while he appreciates every single second they have together, knowing how in their line of work things can change all too easy, their second anniversary presents the perfect opportunity to remind her that everyday he gets to be with someone as amazing as her is crazy to him.

He has flowers, a handmade card, he even hoovered and she’s still asleep.

She never sleeps this late.

Everyone knows she’s the morning person in their relationship and he’s the Get Out Of Bed After Snoozing The Alarm Seventeen Times person. They live together, share a car, and yet most mornings he ends up riding the Subway, squashed between an old woman and a nerdy looking guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, Amy rolling her eyes when he gets to work mid-briefing. The rare days she can get him out of bed early usually involve some kind of bribery using food and/or sex.

The point is, he’s supposed to be the one sleeping in past 11 AM, but ever since their doctor prescribed Clomid to help stimulate ovulation and boost their chances of making a baby, their roles have been totally reversed like Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday.

Pregnant Amy falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. The couch, the car, the cleaning cupboard at work when she was trying to find some Nuclear-strength cleaner to remove the stench of Charles’ lunch from the air before she hurled again.

She could sleep all day if he let her and he quite easily could. She looks so peaceful and cute and free from the stresses of her family asking why they waited so long (well, long for Santiago standards) to start a family. Plus, the messy hair and tiny bit of drool on her chin are impossibly endearing in the way only she can be.

He smiles and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands - like his thoughts - drifting to her growing bump as they inevitably always do.

This time next year they’ll be celebrating with their little boy or girl, telling them all about the insane, magical day that was May 15th 2018. Of course, it might be some time before they can fully grasp the TV-worthy drama of the creepy phone call, the bomb in the vent, the ex-boyfriend proposing - twice! - and the wall of Amy photos, but they will sure as dammit know how beautiful their mom looked in her dress and how happy their dad was when Grandpa Holt finally announced them as husband and wife.

“Can’t breathe,” his wife squeaks, finally awake. “Arms too tight.”

“Oops. Sorry, babe.” He kisses her by way of apology; sometimes when he gets to thinking about that day, about seeing her walk down the shredded paper aisle under the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by the very people who watched them fall in love, he kind of forgets where he is and what he’s doing.

She’s always had that intoxicating effect on him. That’s never gonna change.

“Time is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Twenty five to,” he pauses to brace himself for her reaction, “...twelve.”

“Twelve?” Horrified, she moves to get out of bed and yeah, he knows her so well. “Let me go,” she huffs in frustration when he forms a barrier to keep her from leaving.

“No can do, Santiago,” he says authoritatively. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone and you’re pregnant. You need to rest. We’ve both got the day off, our dinner reservations aren’t until 8. Just let your husband take care of you for a couple of hours.”

She chews on her lower lip, making her contemplative face that he recognises from sitting opposite her for so many years, preferring watching her piece together the leads in a case rather than work on his own. “Fine,” she eventually concedes. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Happy anniversary,” he returns the sentiment, kissing her again because, well, he can, one of the perks of marrying Amy Santiago (alongside a perfectly organised sock drawer and getting to hang out with the best person in the world 24 sevs). “I got you these,” he adds, procuring the daffodil bouquet he found online.

“Jake,” she sighs dreamily, placing the flowers on her nightstand. “They’re beautiful. And my favourites.”

“I know,” he smirks. He may not be Santiago level smart, but he’s smart when it comes to all things Santiago. “Also made you this.” He hands over the card.

She opens it, instantly tearing up at his sweet message inside, the dam bursting when she notices the scrawled message written with his wrong hand from their unborn baby. “Mine sucks in comparison,” she laments, passing him his card before locking her eyes back on the words ‘happy anniversary to the world’s best mama’.

“It does not suck,” he reassures her, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to savour it for all times. I want to be buried with it.”

She rolls her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought you wanted to be buried with your original copy of Die Hard.”

“OK, Die Hard and your card. Rhymes for a reason, Ames.”

“You’re such a dork,” she responds, stifling her laughter. “Can’t believe I’ve been married to you for two full years.”

“I know.” He grins. “What was your favourite part?”

Her eyes glimmer with excitement and love and memories of their first anniversary before things turned upside down. “Are you suggesting we do a marriage highlight reel à la NBA inside stuff?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’ll go first. NUMBER FIVE,” he yells in his spot on Ahmad Rashad impression, earning a giggle from his wife. “Number five is that dress you wore on my birthday. Your butt looked the bomb in it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Two years in, she’s used to the constant “your butt is the bomb” comments, often uttered at the most inappropriate of times like when she stands up to brief the squad or play soccer with her brothers, much to her chagrin and their delight.

“Number four,” she quickly moves on. “The time you taught me to play Mario Party and I beat Wario on the first try.”

“That was my worst moment,” he groans.

“And that’s why it’s my best.”

He sighs, considers debating it, engaging in the classic back-and-forth that is the very foundation of their relationship, but it’s moot. She was way better than him. Santiago’s learn fast. It’s in their genes or something. And despite the crushing disappointment when she beat Wario with ease and dork danced her way to the kitchen to grab them both an orange soda, it was still a very fun night and a worthy moment in the highlight reel.

“Number Three. The York murder.”

Immediate understanding spreads across Amy’s face, but he explains anyway.

“I spent three days working that case and you just came in, saw the board and solved it right away.”

“I’m very smart,” she jokes lightheartedly.

“You are,” he agrees, his voice coming out softer and sincerer than even he imagined. “I love that about you. I love your brain. I love how good you are at your job, at figuring out puzzles. I love that you listen to NPR and know so much about the font Helvetica and have read, like, a million books. I love that you do a crossword every night and I love how proud you look when you give me a sports clue and I actually get it right. I love cheering you on at Trivia Nights even when Kylie can’t stop glaring at me. How lucky am I to have the smartest wife in the world?”

Touched, she can barely compile her thoughts to reveal her Number Two.

“The night at Shaw’s, at Hitchcock’s second divorce party, your speech, the way you kissed me, the way you were so gentle when we got home,” she sniffles. “It was special and made me feel so loved and if I say anymore I’m going to cry again, so you go.”

He chuckles knowingly. The pregnancy hormones have been making her extra emotional lately, they can’t even watch commercials anymore without her fully weeping. And while last year Pam and her twisted bowels interrupted before they could get to Number One, this year Number One is obvious. Clear as day. And there’s no one to interrupt.

He pretends to think about it for a minute (because he will always love teasing her, married or not). Only when she grabs his arm and digs her nails into his skin does he put both their hands on her bump and smiles. “Obviously this little guy or gal is Number One.”

She smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

His own face falls. “Ames?”

“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it?” She sighs, thinking back to calendars and fertility appointments and the strict no nacho policy.

“Yeah,” he says, “it has. But this next year is gonna be the best one yet.”

“I mean... We’re probably not going to sleep a lot.”

“You might not sleep a lot but I sure will,” he teases, his words falling flat. “Just kidding, babe. Obviously I’m going to get up for all the feeds and diaper changes and whatever else this kid throws at us. Gonna be there for you both. No matter what.”

The pregnancy hormones strike again and she starts crying and, honestly, he can’t wait for this baby to get out, for more reasons than one.

“BRB, I’ll go make your favourite breakfast to make you feel better, don’t grow anymore body parts while I’m gone.”

He returns seven minutes later with pancakes, a ton of fruit, decaf coffee and another kiss. He climbs back into bed, devours his own Nutella pancakes and posts his favourite blurry, drunk on Champagne and love selfie from their makeshift wedding reception at Shaw’s, on Insta with a caption about how he promises he’s gonna love her for the rest of his life.

And he keeps that promise.

[sie-werden-nie-vergessen]

“Ruth and Ephraim as a couple” headcanons/AU, ft “Sarah in Boston”

@shapeshiftersandfire, so here it is. I finished way earlier than I anticipated, but I just started typing and here it is!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=muFFeiBUffQ (this song is required listening when reading these headcanons. It IS Ephraim and Ruth’s theme song. I recommend starting it at 3:14 because that point of the song is the section that really gives me Ruth and Ephraim vibes) 

First off, there is SO much covert flirting. SO, SO MUCH FLIRTING.

Ephraim is definitely having an identity crisis on the way home after the card game.

He gets home and Deodat asks him how the party went and he just kind of stands there like an oaf.

“It went fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“No Yes”

“...okay”

Deodat doesn’t believe him but he assumes that maybe Ephraim was just rejected by a date or something. Little does he know…..

“Fire Meet Gasoline” is a very good analogy to their relationship.

Because not only would it be passionate

But their relationship would probably also develop very quickly

They wouldn’t rush things, per se, but the “crush” phase is definitely very short for them

They’re both very outspoken and confident, so they very quickly open up about their feelings rather than beating around the bush.

They’re both very passionate people in terms of personality, and even when Ephraim is open-minded enough to fall for Ruth, they still inevitably clash with their opinions

They don’t fight but they definitely debate.

But in a healthy way. The debates can get heated but not in a hostile way. They’re just both very opinionated and they get very passionate about their opinions and their different thought processes.

 “I know I’m right!” “Yeah well I know that I”M right!” “Well I think I’m right because xyz” “Well my reasons are abc” “...that’s a good point. But I’m still right ;)”

So it probably looks like arguing to some people, but they both know that it’s all in good humor so neither Ephraim or Ruth are actually hurt by it or anything

They actually think it’s a good source of entertainment.

They once got into a heated debate about the correct color of socks in the middle of the new Mill Valley department store just to see the reactions of the cashiers

The aforementioned cashiers were horrified

Ephraim was arguing in favor of brown socks, and Ruth in favor of gray.

They ended up buying both colors.

Ruth now buys him brown and gray socks for a gag gift every Christmas (were gag gifts a thing in 1898? No clue, but I like the idea so I’m running with it and not researching something for once).

Ephraim keeps her a secret for a long time, for obvious reasons.

Ruth doesn’t mind this because she understands his reasoning behind it. 

She takes it as an opportunity to introduce him to her family and friends.

Ephraim gets along great with her brother Charles, and almost immediately the “future brother in law” jokes start.

Ruth is surprisingly embarrassed by this.

Ephraim teases her for days about that fact.

“Finally! I finally found something that embarrasses you!”

Ephraim goes to her performances and cheers her on (he always brings a bouquet too)

He sits in the front row right at the bottom of the stage and claps the loudest when she comes on stage.

Ruth is big into theatrics and has an entire setup of smoke cannons and mood lighting that announce her entrance.

She steps into this cloud of smoke and raises her arms dramatically and announces herself

Ruth loves to wear the color red because it looks so striking against her pale skin, but she secretly loves lighter shades of blue even more (they just don’t give off very strong “mystical” vibes, so she sticks to dark reds when she’s in the spotlight)

She works as a fortune teller and does card tricks as well

She loves to hear the ridiculous rumors and urban legends surrounding the “mystical powers” of albinos and then she incorporates that into her routine

“ALBINOS CAN READ MINDS” okay, well now she does mind reading as a new trick

In reality she’s just a very analytical person so it’s easy for her to pick up on small body language or vocal cues

Ephraim always asks her to tell him her fortune and it inevitably turns into some sappy “well I think you’ll end up marrying an amazing circus performer who just so happens to also be the most beautiful woman in Pennsylvania” thing

Ephraim definitely agrees with her “fortune”

He tells her about Sarah pretty early on in the relationship. He doesn’t want to hide anything from her.

He isn’t sure how she’ll take it, especially considering the fact that he was complacent in Sarah’s abuse for years until he really got out into the world and realized that everything he “knew” about albinism was wrong.

Ruth is definitely shocked but she assures him that he’s not some sort of monster, because he realized that what his parents trained him to think was wrong and he was able to grow from that.

One day when the rest of the family is out, Ephraim sneaks Ruth into the mansion (with the help of Sylvie and Lou Lou, of course) and she goes down to the cellar to meet Sarah.

Sarah is absolutely floored that there are others like her.

Of course she knew, because Ephraim told her when he returned from college and made amends, but when she sees it infront of her eyes it’s still a shock.

Ruth and Sarah hit it off instantly, of course.

Ruth promises to take Sarah to see a circus someday

Sarah can’t wait to see the elephants.

A few days after the secret meeting, Ephraim decides to tell his family about Ruth.

He tells Harold, thinking that maybe Harold would understand

But Harold just rats him out to Deodat and Delanie

They’re furious, of course

They don’t tell Gertrude because they claim that it would give her a heart attack

And tbh, it might

Gertrude figures it out anyways from the deranged yelling that comes from downstairs

“After all we’ve done to hide Sarah, and now you do THIS?!!”

“Mother, there’s nothing wrong with her.”

“She’s a circus freak!”

“By choice. She enjoys working in sideshows. That doesn’t make her a bad person.”

“Are you sure she isn’t just trying to mooch off of OUR money?!”

“She’s very wealthy, Mother. She works because she enjoys it.”

Deodat has more or less the same reaction.

Harold just can’t believe that Ephraim would “betray” the family in that way.

Ephraim tells Ruth the next day, and they decide to take Sarah away and leave for Boston.

Charles helps with the legal side of things, and pulls a few strings with his lawyer friends in Pennsylvania to have Sarah legally emancipated from her parents.

The trio moves to Boston and temporarily lives with Charles and his wife Louisa.

Louisa is smitten with Sarah from the start and insists on baking her ridiculous amounts of gingerbread.

(For no reason, really, but Louisa just has a thing for gingerbread. Sarah doesn’t complain)

Sarah gains quite a lot of weight in those first few months, and for the first time in her life she weighs a healthy amount. 

Ruth takes her clothes shopping often, and she insists on buying Sarah the nicest and newest fashions (even though she grows out of them so quickly now. It’s as if 18 years of growing have finally caught up with her at once).

Sarah hugs Ephraim for the first time after she and Ruth return from their first major shopping trip. Ephraim almost cries, and Ruth grins so hard that her face hurts. 

Ephraim wasn’t sure if Sarah could ever forgive him, but that was proof enough for him.

Ruth gives Sarah her first diamond necklace. It’s the one that Ruth wore the day she met Sarah. Sarah had said that it was the prettiest thing that she had ever seen, and Ruth saved it for her until they reached Boston. It was an informal adoption gift, really.

Ephraim and Ruth eventually buy a nice brownstone in Boston. It’s a few streets away from Charles and Louisa’s home, and there’s a large park across the street.

Sarah loves to sit in the park and watch the swans and ducks on the pond.

Sometimes Ruth and Ephraim go with her, but a lot of the time they let her go alone. They know that she’s been through a lot, and that sometimes she needs time alone to process everything. 

Sometimes she comes back with tears in her eyes, but no one mentions it. Ruth brings her a cup of tea or a piece of gingerbread (Louisa is always sending over fresh gingerbread) and offers her a shoulder to cry on, if she needs it.

Ruth takes Sarah to meet her fellow albino circus performers. For once in her life, Sarah feels truly accepted and understood when she stands in a room surrounded by people like her.

There are so many children in the room, and they’re all so loved by their family members, regardless of their albinism. It makes Sarah sad at first, but she’s also happy to see that they were raised in loving households instead of abusive and hateful ones.

For their first Christmas together in Boston, Ephraim buys Sarah a Kodak No. 2 Bullseye Camera. When the first Kodak Brownie camera is released a few years later in 1900, he buys her one of those as well.

He tells her that she can use it to document her new life in Boston.

The first picture she takes is a picture of a sleeping Ephraim.

He’s sitting in an armchair next to the Christmas tree, surrounded by wrapping paper and plates of half finished cookies.

Once the picture is developed, she puts it in her new photo album that Charles and Louisa gave to her.

When Ephraim woke up, Sarah asked to take a picture with him. 

Of course he obliged.

She keeps that one in a frame by her bedside.

Sarah has a whole pile of her “treasures” that she keeps beside her bed, but that picture is at the center of it all. 

Ephraim notices it one time when he’s helping Ruth collect the laundry, and it touches him more than he can say.

For her gift, Ruth arranges for Sarah to take some writing classes at the local women’s college.

Sarah is thrilled. She starts to write stories other than horror.

She still loves scary stories, but she finds a new love for children’s stories and romance novels.

Little Women is her favorite (Ruth is delighted! It was her favorite book too!)

In 1900 Ruth and Ephraim have a son. They name him Eli, in reference to Sarah’s middle name (Elizabeth).

Sarah is the proudest aunt you’ve ever seen. 

Ephraim and Ruth go on to have more children, but Sarah has a special bond with little Eli. He is the first baby that she ever held.

The odd little family on Pearl Street is probably the happiest family you’ll ever see.

Sarah eventually marries the son of one of Ruth’s circus colleagues. 

His name is Thomas, and he’s a quiet man.

He loves birds too, just like Sarah. 

He and Sarah go bird watching often.

They go on to have a large family. 2 out of the 5 children have albinism, but they love all of their children the same.

They live a long life.

Neither Ephraim, Ruth, or Sarah ever return to Mill Valley. They’re more than happy to let the past remain in the past.

Bonus: Harold In Boston Headcanons/AU

Once Ephraim does reach out to Harold, and he’s surprised to learn that Harold has also distanced himself from their parents.

Gertrude died in 1899, and shortly after that Harold’s fiancée Violet died of tuberculosis. With his ties to Mill Valley significantly loosened, Harold took an extended business trip to Philadelphia where he eventually opened his own publishing company. After the mercury scandal at the mill, Deodat and Delanie are essentially ruined and Harold is free to pursue his own interests independent of the mill.

He goes to visit Ephraim in 1900 to congratulate him on the birth of his son. 

It’s tense at first, when he see’s Sarah. He isn’t sure how she’ll react to him.

She’s wearing a white lace dress with small puffs at the sleeves, and pale blue ribbons at the cuffs and waist of the skirt.

Her hair is in a soft gibson girl-esque style, and Harold realizes that it’s the first time he’s ever seen her in anything other than the old gown she always wore back in Pennsylvania.

“Hello Sarah”

“Hello Harold”

He isn’t sure what to do at first, but Ruth quickly introduces herself to abate the awkward silence.

He’s never met Ruth, but he quickly understands why Ephraim likes her so much.

After he meets the baby and pleasantries are exchanged, he wanders off into one of the upstairs rooms of the home.

(Sarah left the room once Ruth brought out the baby. She loves Eli, but she feels awkward being everyone all at once, as if she’s intruding on something she isn’t, of course).

He accidentally goes into Sarah’s room, only to find her at her desk writing.

Her room is nothing like the dark basement she used to call home, and Harold is thankful for that.

“So, you still write?”

Sarah jumps in her chair a little, before suddenly whipping around. She’s still not good with loud or sudden noises, even after 3 years of safety.

Harold cringes when she jumps. He hates that he still scares her.

When she composes herself, she smiles a small smile. “Yes, I still write.”

Harold asks what she writes about these days, and she tells him that she writes children’s stories.

It’s a sad irony, considering the mercury scandal, but Harold doesn’t tell her about that yet.

She had left Mill Valley before the worst of it, and he knows how much she loved those children.

After they talk for a while, Sarah eventually invites him to sit with her.

They sit side by side on her bed and she shows him her notebooks.

He’s surprised by how much she’s grown since he last saw her. She’s a little taller now, and she’s gained a lot of weight. Her face isn’t hollow anymore, and her eyes are bright now. Her hair is shiny and thick, and she truly looks happy.

She only shakes a little when he’s so close to her. Harold still scares her a little, but Ephraim promised her that no one would ever hurt her again.

Sarah trusts Ephraim immensely, so she’s willing to trust Harold too

Still, it’s a little hard for her to have him in such close proximity.

Harold notices her discomfort and moves a few inches away (still close enough to see her notebooks, but far enough that it gives Sarah a safe buffer). Her nerves calm down once she has a “safe zone.”

Harold finally works up the nerve to say something.

“Sarah, I-”

“I know. Ephraim told me.”

“He did?”

“He did”

“Well...that’s...that’s good.”

The next thing that Sarah does shocks Harold to his core.

She reaches out, her hands shaking, and grabs his hand.

“I know that you didn’t mean it - what you did to me -...not really, anyways. I know you’re different now.”

Harold squeezes her hand in return, and she stops shaking.

“Thank you”

Sarah smiles

“Of course”

Ephraim happens to pass Sarah’s bedroom on his way upstairs and nearly dies of shock at the site of them. Harold doesn’t notice Ephraim, but Sarah does.

She bursts out laughing, because Ephraim genuinely looks horrified, shocked, and immensely confused.

“He said that he was sorry!,” she explained in a half yell in Ephraim’s direction.

Ephraim is still in shock, so he doesn’t say anything.

Harold is also in shock, but because of Sarah’s laugh.

The man genuinely didn’t think that it was possible, and yet here she was laughing.

When everyone recovers from their respective shocks, Harold is invited to stay for dinner.

This dinner invitation turns into a long term stay, and eventually Harold moves his business to Boston.

He buys the brownstone next to Ephraim and Ruth’s home.

He remains a bachelor all his life, never having truly recovered from Violet’s death.

Harold definitely earns the title of “World’s Greatest Uncle” in regards to Sarah and Thomas’ children.

By 1980 the neighborhood block is so full of Bellows descendants that it’s unofficially renamed Bellows Square

Ruth and Ephraim’s house becomes a local historic landmark, considering the fact that Ephraim went on to become one of the country’s early geneticists who (humanely) studied genetic disorders and medical conditions.

The house later becomes a museum in the early 90s, having been restored to the same state that it was when they once resided in it.

Sarah’s Kodak No. 2 Bullseye is put on display, but the crowning achievement is her collection of photo albums and notebooks. She went on to become a children’s writer and illustrator, basing many of her books on her experiences in Boston. 

The old Bellows Paper Mill is torn down in 1948 to make room for new housing following the G.I. Bill and the post-war Baby Boom.

None of the surviving Bellows are sad to see it go.

[carewyncromwell]

hella delayed reaction but skdfjasdlkfa BOYFRIENDS JACOB AND ASHE PIRATE AND SIREN COMBO ARE MY NEW OTP I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

*sniggers like an idiot* This message made me draw some stuff, so if y’all didn’t want a diversion from the next part of the POTC AU...too bad! You’re getting some AU!Duncan/Jacob, so deal with it.

Okay, so first things first -- Duncan (later Duncan Ashe) and Jacob Cromwell Roberts (later Black Jack Roberts) first collided after Jacob was “impressed into service” (A.K.A. kidnapped off the merchant ship he was on and forced to be his captors’ navigator or die) by pirate Howell Davis. While trapped on board on the Rover for the next two years, Jacob would (like in the old days trapped on the Revenge with his sister Carewyn) sing to pass the time. Most of the pirates didn’t mind too much as Jacob, like Carewyn, has a great singing voice, and honestly, there isn’t much to do to entertain oneself on a pirate ship.

As luck would have it, one day, Jacob’s singing caught the attention of a merman swimming by the Rover, who was startled by the sound of the voice and stopped momentarily to suss out whether it was another merman or not. He pretty quickly deduced that no, it was just a human male with an unusually attractive singing voice. Duncan probably would’ve tried to take this opportunity to lure the human male into the water and eat him, but considering he was alone and the ship was stuffed to the brim with nasty-looking pirates, Duncan decided it probably wouldn’t be prudent to do so. So instead he shadowed the ship for a while, thinking to follow it back into waters where more merfolk swam and, once there, attack the ship properly with reinforcements.

While following the ship, however, it seemed like every time Duncan came up to the surface, that one human male was always singing, and it was always in such a pained, aching sort of voice. This of course didn’t trouble Duncan exactly -- it was good to know that this human wanted something so much and that Duncan would therefore be able to figure out what he wanted and use it to lure him into his waiting jaws easily -- but as he followed the ship and listened to this young man’s voice in comparison to the others’ on board, he suddenly got the weird feeling that this human was...different, somehow. And so he situated himself on the ship’s anchor and listened a bit more carefully.

Merfolk have a pretty good ability to read the hearts and attitudes of humans just by being close to them, and although Duncan couldn’t get close enough to completely suss out what this human wanted, he got the feeling that his emotions were strong -- not just the sorrow and pain, but the resilience and determination, as well. The human was also very amusing, frequently running circles intellectually around the other men on the pirate ship and making Duncan bite back laughter. At one point Duncan even overheard an argument between the human and the pirates on-board where he demanded to be set free and mentioned his sister, insisting that she needed him and saying he would do anything if they’d just let him return to her. Considering that merfolk in general are not family-oriented (with a few lone exceptions), the level of passion in which this human spoke of his sister startled Duncan. He was more than used to people lusting after gold or flesh, but he’d never heard anyone speak so selflessly before -- being willing to lay down his own life not for himself, but for someone else. It was a stupid thing to say, Duncan thought, considering these pirates clearly had no reason to listen to him and him emotionally lashing out wouldn’t likely help anything...and yet, all the same, Duncan found himself drawn all the more. And so when the ship entered merfolk-inhabited waters...Duncan did not strike. Instead he left and found a meal elsewhere, but never forgot the ship called the Rover and the young man with the wonderful voice.

Over the next year, Duncan kept his eye open for the Rover. It zipped back and forth across the sea often enough, so it didn’t take long for him to figure out their route. There were several points he considered speaking to the human, or maybe even singing himself so he could hear him, but he always reminded himself that he didn’t know what good it would do. Sailors still by and large fear and distrust merfolk (though they often presume they’re all mermaids, not men), and Duncan had no way to help this human escape his circumstances whether he wanted to or not. He no longer wanted to lure him off the pirate ship with promises that weren’t true.

Once, while Duncan was following the Rover, the ship got locked in a huge sea battle, forcing the merman to dive deep below the waves to escape the cannon fire. When he emerged, he was shocked to find that his human had actually been made Captain -- “Captain Jack Roberts,” they called him. Duncan finally had a name -- and when he followed the ship all the way to its destination of Port Royal, he thought it would be the last time he would ever see him again. Duncan fought with himself about whether or not to approach “Jack,” but in the end, he lost his nerve. His heart broke when he saw his human leave the ship at a run, as if he never wanted to look back.

You can imagine how shocked and delighted Duncan was, therefore, when his “Jack” returned to the ship. The delight was short-lived, however, when Duncan learned the reason “Jack” had returned was because his precious sister was gone and no one knew where she’d disappeared to, so he was determined to search the seven seas until he found her again. Duncan could sense immediately that there were tensions aboard his ship in response to this, but “Jack” didn’t seem to -- he was too focused on finding his sister to give much care to anyone else’s thoughts on the matter. Duncan cursed the stupidity of this wonderful, bizarre human.

As Charles Cromwell later told Carewyn, Howell Davis’s old First Mate Patricia Rakepick decided to spark a mutiny on board the Rover and claim its captainship for herself. Rather than maroon Jack as per the Pirate Code, she determined (correctly, may I point out) that if he were left alive, he’d be more than smart enough to find a way off the island and be a thorn in her side later -- and so in a particularly brutal move, Rakepick shot him in the back with her pistol and pushed him overboard into the raging waves. In alarm Duncan, who had still been following the Rover, dived to retrieve Jack, covering the young man’s mouth with his own in a deep kiss to give him the ability to breathe underwater long enough that he wouldn’t drown while Duncan swam him away from the Rover.

Duncan eventually found a small island where he could pull Jack ashore. Knowing Jack was in bad shape and yet he had no way to help him on his own, Duncan made the risky and brave decision to leave the water, taking on human legs and stumbling into the closest town butt-friggin’-naked begging for help. The townspeople quickly gave him some clothes and Duncan then led them back to the beach where he’d left Jack, who dipped in and out of consciousness as Duncan lifted him into his arms and carried him to the closest doctor. Once his human was tended to, the two finally met face-to-face for the first time and exchanged names -- the human introduced himself as Jacob Roberts, or Jack, while Duncan introduced himself as Duncan Ashe, taking his last name from the contents of the ashtray in the parlor of the doctor’s home.

It wasn’t long after that Jacob made his deal with Davy Jones to steal the Rover back from Patricia Rakepick and the East India Trading Company, which officially branded him a pirate and set him on his quest to both find Carewyn and locate Charles or Blaise Cromwell so as to satisfy his debt with Jones. Duncan was and is the only member of Jacob’s crew who knows both about his deal with Jones and his backstory, and over the years, Jacob told Duncan all about his sister, Carewyn, and what a saint she supposedly was. Jacob constantly insisted that Duncan would love Carewyn when they finally met, which Duncan couldn’t help but doubt, considering that he found Jacob to be a rare exception among humans -- as it turned out, when they finally did, Duncan was amazed to find Jacob was right.

To this point, Jacob still hasn’t put two-and-two together about what Duncan really is, and Duncan hasn’t felt much desire to tell him, even though there are points he wishes Jacob could know that he really did save his life, and not just by pulling him out of the water. Nevertheless, Jacob did eventually figure out how much his First Mate really meant to him in the midst of the seven years they sailed together (yeah -- this guy is a brilliant scholar and captain, but when it comes to people, he really is an absolute idiot), and once he did, he was pretty forceful in making sure Duncan knew it too. By then, Duncan was more than willing to reciprocate, given how long he’d kept his feelings to himself -- so now Black Jack Roberts’s relationship with his First Mate Ashe is more than common knowledge among the crew. Anyone who would even think about underestimating either man because of this, however, is pretty quickly disillusioned when Duncan tosses them overboard or Jacob decides to dangle them by the back of their shirts off the bowsprint for a day or two.

[meowdymista]

In For A Penny - Arthur x Female Reader

Notes: Adult content for an adult game.

Words: 5220

Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Now on AO3!

Riding in to camp at Clemens Point, it quickly becomes clear a celebration is underway. The upbeat music and loud chatter advise a steady flow of alcohol, long before Bill staggers up to the hitching posts with a whiskey bottle in each hand.

“Mr Morgan! Have a drink with us!”

Arthur chuckles, rolling his eyes as Bill shoves the emptier of the two into his hand. “Thanks, Bill. What’re we celebrating?”

“I don’t really remember,” he slurs, continuing on past to his horse and raiding its saddle bag. “Sean saw some working girl in Rhodes…?”

Dismounting, he scans the camp and spots you by the fireside with Tilly and Karen. “A working girl, you say?” he asks, but Bill has found the opened bottles of fine brandy he robbed off some travellers earlier and is swaying his way over to the medical tent. 

He removes his hunted gains from his horse’s flanks and takes a large swig of the honey coloured spirit, not averting his gaze.

“Hey, Arthur!”

“Hey, Lenny, how you doin’?” He slams the carcass onto Pearson’s table and drains the bottle, joining the young man leaning against the tree trunk.

“I’m good. Hey, you heard about Sean?”

“Something about him and a working girl?” He looks over to you again, surprised by the camp’s reaction to you. Usually when an outside woman is brought in, the camp splits down the middle, with the women and Strauss on one side, and the more confident, virile men closest to the poor soul brought in for the evening’s entertainment. Somehow you have found your way into the former, with the exception of Javier who is singing on the dirt by your feet.

“Yeah, a girl he met in Valentine! He-”

“Art’er Morgan!”

“Mr Macguire.”

“Pour yerself a drink!” Sean pushes a tin cup into Arthur’s chest, raising his own into the air and sloshing it down on the group. “We’re celebratin’!”

“Tha’s clear enough to see,” he growls, smirking “But the details are still a little hazy.”

“Oh, it’s a good story, Mr Morgan! It’s a good’un. See, back in Valentine after you boys picked me up from them bounty hunters, I borrowed a few dollars of Bill to get meself cleaned up see-”

“Not that the smell changed much,” winks Lenny, earning himself a laugh. He pats Arthur on the shoulder and moves off to join the fire.

“Bastard,” scoffs Sean, scowling. “Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, I found myself talkin’ to a lovely lady with a beautiful face and, you know-” He gestures at his chest with his hands spread, laughing. 

Ignoring him, Arthur sniffs the cup. “What’ve you put in this? Stinks of moonshine!”

“Nah, it’s whisky! Maybe gin… Maybe bit of everything, but you’re interruptin’ me there! Again! Do you want to know what we’re celebratin’ or not?”

“Fine.” He takes a swig and almost spits it out. Definitely moonshine.

“Well see, of course I needed to support the local economy of that muddy town, so I take her up to bed and we have a grand ol’ time! Honestly, it’s up there as one of the bests!” (“One of the few in total,” comments Charles on his way past.) “Anyways, after we say our goodbyes and I throw her the I’m too young to be settlin’ routine, I ride back to Horseshoe. Tha’s the end o’ tha’, bla dee bla, and then we come crashing into this place.

"All’s well, Mr Morgan. It’s been a coupl’ o’ months and I figure, hey, we’ve had some good scores, I reckon I’ve earned meself a wee pat on the back since none th’ rest o’ you fellers are doin’ it for me. I decided to get me revolver all done up nice at the gunsmit’ in Rhodes when I see her fanning herself outside the parlour house.

“You could have knocked me down wit’ a feather, Arthur! She’s leaning up against a pillar, with her belly out here!” He gestures again, his hand two feet from his untucked shirt. “I thought I’d had it, Morgan! Saw my life flash before me eyes! Sean Macguire, washed up at twenty t’ree!”

“So, we’re celebratin’ you becoming a daddy?”

“Oh no, Mr Morgan! No, we’re celebratin’ that I’m not going to be a pappy, and Ol’ Scar Face gets to keep his title as shitty dad of t’year!”

“I can hear you, you son of a bitch!” cries John from the poker table. Sean waves a hand in his direction dismissively.

“What makes you so sure?” asks Arthur.

“Because she was knocked up before she met me!” He grins widely, trying to instill the same excitement in his audience. Instead Arthur shakes his head, taking another swig, before cursing at the cups remembered contents and tipping it into the grass. “I’m just going down in history as a motherfucker! Not a pappy! How great is that?”

“For the kid? Oh, I’m sure he’s thrilled to pieces!” he says coldly.

“Ouch! Would you rather have another Jack in camp?”

“I would rather you stop risking becoming a father if you ain’t ready to be one!”

“Is that what you told Marston?”

“It’s what every boy is told when he becomes a man!” Arthur grabs a beer from a nearby crate, trying and failing to hide his frustration. “I guess no one ever thought you grown up enough to say.”

The redhead staggers, clutching his shirt. “Ooft, Mr Morgan, you're pulling me heart out me chest! I thought you’d be happy for me!”

“Mm, more like happy for the kid in question.” He looks back over to you, watching you laugh. Immediately he feels himself relax. “So who’s she? You bring her in to celebrate, or somethin’?”

“Who? Y/N?” Sean tops up Arthur’s cup, but he doesn’t notice. At that same moment, you look up and meet his gaze. He holds it hungrily, but Karen interrupts, offering you another drink, forcing you to look away. “Nah, she joined us couple nights back. Musta been the first night you was off huntin’ if you’ve not met her yet.”

“Y/N? That her real name?”

“As far as I know, but you know me, I don’t ask much.” Sean laughs and walks away, leaving Arthur to drain his beer in one.

“Everythin’ alright?”

He starts, pulling his eyes off you to find Abigail getting herself a bowl of stew. Unable to remember his last meal, he follows suit.

“Yeah, just gettin’ lost in my head I guess.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean it. Sean, I mean.” She gives him a sad smile. “Think he’s just scared of what could have been and relieved it isn’t.”

“Well, like I said, if he ain’t ready to be a daddy-”

“No one’s ever ready to be a parent. Hell, I was scared shitless when I found out I was expecting Jack, and then John…” “John’s scared of his own reflection.” This earns him a laugh as he tears them each a chunk of bread to go with their meal.

“You can’t tell me you weren’t scared when you found out about Eliza?”

“Oh, Miss Roberts, you don’t know the half of it.” They chuckle quietly, the warm evening air suddenly sombre. “Terrified is more like it, but I guess that went away soon enough.” His eyes drag back to you and how your smile lights up by the fire. “Say, who brought in Y/N?”

Abigail follows his gaze to where you’re sat and shrugs. “I don’t know exactly. Probably one of the fellas since we ladies don’t go out much.”

He takes another drink from the cup in his hand, but it no longer strips his tongue of tastebuds. “Hey, you not sitting down to eat that?”

“Not tonight,” she smiles, walking away. “Jack’s already in bed. G’night, Arthur, don’t make too big a fool of yourself, y’hear?”

He doesn’t. There’s something about you that draws him in, something about the whole situation that isn’t quite right, but he can’t focus when his jeans are tightening over his hips. He shakes his head, trying to clear it, but when Karen leaves her seat beside you, his untouched stew hits the ground and his spurs clink towards the fire.

********

“And who might you be?”

You look up from the flames, surprised. The man towers over you, his face unreadable and his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. Before you can answer, he has lowered himself next to you, nodding at the guitar playing mexican by your feet.

“Javier.”

“Arthur.”

“Didn’t take you long to serenade the newcomer, huh?”

You blush as Javier chuckles. “Usted me conoce bien.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” The stranger laughs loudly, drunkenly, his knee knocking yours.

“We’ve been running together long enough, haven’t we?”

“Ah, s’true, you got me there.” He shakes his head, chuckling as he shoves a cigarette between his lips. You watch his strong hands fumble with the small yellow box. His broad thumb pushes the insert too far, losing the majority of the sticks to the turf between his boots, but he doesn’t seem to notice. You grow more and more awkward as you’re forced to watch him drop or snap matches by the handful. He curses and drinks from the tin cup he brought over with him.

You notice Javier watching as well, his fingers continuing to dance over the strings. He mutters something in Spanish, and the smirk spreads enough to flash his teeth. You can only guess it is a friendly insult of some kind, but Arthur seems to come to another conclusion. He nudges you, and nods at the Mexican.

“Have you met the tough Mexican freedom fighter? The one that ran away when things got nasty?”

You hesitate, not sure how to respond. Luckily Javier shakes his head, his tightening jaw the only thing betraying his irk. “Let’s not play this game again, Arthur. It gets messy too fast.”

He grumbles, distracted when he finally gets a match to spark. He tries to hold it to the tobacco, but it burns out before his hands steady. He grunts in defeat, tucking the crumpled cigarette back into his breast pocket and turns to take you in. Somewhat satisfied, he leans forward, his hot breath moving the hair you have tucked behind your ear.

“So how much do you go for?” Your eyes widen with surprise. You try to speak, but no words form. For some reason, this tickles him. “Well? Cat got your tongue?”

“Leave her alone, Arthur.”

“Aw, Miss Tilly, I’m only playing.”

“Is he bothering you?” she asks gently. You can’t answer, your head is reeling with the way he spoke to you so bluntly, like you’re a whore looking for work. She sighs and gets to her feet, pulling you along with her. “C’mon. Let’s get another drink, and leave these assholes alone.”

“What’d I do?” he asks innocently.

“What didn’t you do?” mutters Javier.

“Wha’s tha’ supposed to mean?”

Tilly walks you away to a quieter corner, apologising, but you laugh it off. After all, you can think now. His proximity had put your head in a spin, but away from the heat and the physical contact you could think clearly again. You assure her no offence has been taken; he’s drunk, and something about his breath made you believe his drinks were much stronger than yours.

You clink a couple of fresh beers in cheers, and when Karen swoops round again, you let her pour you another shot of whisky directly into your mouth.

“Take it easy, huh?” Mary Beth says, touching Karen’s arm, but the blonde is already travelling again, this time towards the Irish man in the green bowler hat.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” she slurs.

“Because you love me, darlin’!”

She laughs loudly, prodding him in the chest. “If I loved you, would I do this?” A crack reverberates across the lake, leaving the red head with a flaming red cheek.

“What was tha’ for?”

Mary Beth sighs in defeat, shaking her head at you. “She’s not normally like that, I promise. That boy is an exception.”

“Funny! I was just saying the same thing about Arthur!” You try to stop her, but she’s quickly confessed your strange encounter. Trying to hide your embarrassment, you find yourself infinitely grateful Tilly hasn’t heard everything he said. You like this group and don’t want anybody thinking less of you because of some drunken remark.

“Odd, he usually keeps to himself when there’s a new lady in camp,” muses Mary Beth.

“Abigail travelled with us a full month before he spoke to her.”

You set aside your empty bottle, feeling a little light headed. The two women muse, silently conversing in front of you until they’re interrupted with a shout.

“Where’s all this moonshine come from?” coughs Arthur, throwing aside a bottle he had found in the grass. “Is Sean trying to get everyone black out drunk?”

“Ah, not this time. That moonshine’s mine,” chuckles Hosea, walking over to pick up the bottle and return it to his tent. “I kept a couple back after we took it up to the Braithwaites. It comes in handy when making fire bottles and the like.”

“Well hide it somewhere more discrete, would ya?” Arthur splutters some more, following him. “I reckon Sean has already broken into your stash.”

“That would make sense,” sighs Hosea. You notice what had been five large bottles under the medical wagon has somehow dwindled to two. You also note that they are the same size and shape of the stuff Uncle had been drinking that morning, but you say nothing.

Following the women away from the campfire towards your beds, you see Mrs Adler close one of Mary Beth’s books she was reading by the lantern.

“It’s no good over here, ladies,” she grunts with disgust. “The boys are loud wherever you go.”

“Guess we had better wait it out by the water,” sighs Tilly.

“Hey, Y/N! What do you think of this?” Karen barrels her way to your side and, before you can greet her, she has tilted the contents of a tin cup into your mouth. The smell of alcohol alone is enough to bring tears to your eyes, and the other girls complain as you cough up a lung.

“Is that moonshine? And… tobacco?” you manage to gasp. 

“I can’t tell no more,” she slurs, squinting at the bottle. She turns around and pours you a cup from a different bottle. “What ‘bout this one?”

Mary Beth grabs her arm. “Karen! What’s gotten into you?”

“Leggo of me!”

Whilst they argue, you take the cup from her outstretched hand and drink it down in one. “Wow!” You shake your head, looking into the cup as though expecting it to contain flames. “This one... raspberry?”

“Who knows?” She yanks her arm free and begins to stagger off. “I found two men making Moonshine outside of Rhodes. Think they’re experimentin’, or at least that’s what Arthur said.” She hiccups and laughs at you as the world begins to spin.

“Y/N, are you ok?”

“Sure,” you say, trying to blink your way back to single vision. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze your eyes closed and reopen them. Mary Beth and Tilly are looking at you with concern. Mrs Adler’s face is unreadable. You can feel your cheeks burning, but also feel the confidence blossoming in your chest. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Have you had moonshine before?” asks Tilly with concern. “It’s strong stuff.”

“A couple of times,” you admit, smiling despite yourself. None of the women look best impressed, but Karen rescues you, wrapping her arm over your shoulders after an about turn and drags you back to the party.

“Have all of you met my friend, Y/N?” she slurs.

“You’ve been with us two days now, is that right?” asks Charles gently. You nod, cheeks still scorching hot. You spot the brooding figure stood at the back of the group and somehow your cheeks grow hotter still. The distance allows you to see him in his entirety - his legs thickening at the thigh from the horse riding, the faded blue shirt tucked in at his narrow hips and stretching up to the thick broad shoulders. The crackle of the fire reflects in his eyes, and suddenly it’s not just your cheeks that are uncomfortably warm.

You don’t resist as Karen pushes another bottle into your hand.

“Who was it that found you?” asks Lenny.

“I wasn’t found as much as-”

You’re interrupted by a snort. “LENNAAAAY!” cries out Arthur suddenly.

Lenny groans. “Oh, not that again!”

He laughs that loud laugh to the group, staggering over to clamp a hand on the young man’s shoulders. “Here, we go out for one drink and I swear the next day the bartender tells me I asked every single person in the saloon if they were Lenny.” He doubles over. “But most of ‘em were white! And half of ‘em were women!”

“It hurt to find out what you think of me, Arthur,” teases Lenny.

Charles is watching the blonde man as he staggers, trying to calm himself down. “How much has he had to drink?” he asks no one in particular.

“Oi! Karen!”

“Uh oh,” giggles Karen, elbowing you.

“Where’s me moonshine gone?”

“Your moonshine?” Hosea intercepts Sean before he can reach you. “I think you’ll find that moonshine was camp supplies!”

“Yeah, Sean! Camp supplies.” She lifts your hand holding the bottle. “Thought you liked sharing?”

“Miss Jones.” Hosea turns around, voice stern. “Is that my moonshine?”

“No, sir,” she answers sweetly. “S’camp’s moonshine.”

He rolls his eyes as she takes another big swig, sloshes some into your cup and throws the rest onto the fire which immediately burns up. You can’t help but laugh at the degree of disapproval radiating from him. Taking the opportunity of your mouth agape, she tips the cup into your mouth and makes you swallow.

“First rule of drinkin’ is to never drink alone,” she states proudly.

“I feel like you’re supposed to ask first,” you gasp.

“Nah, that’s how you end up stuck in camp. If you want something, you have to go get it!”

“Mr Matthews!” squawks Miss Grimshaw from her bed. “God help you if you do not get that girl to bed!” “Shut up you old hag!” Karen retorts, stumbling as Hosea leads her away.

“Apologies, Miss Grimshaw. I’m on it!”

Blinking you realise you are the only one standing this side of the fire. The men are quiet, watching the flames eat at the logs, each of them in their own head. You can feel something watching you, and when you look up, you spot the same cowboy staring at you. As you lock eyes, he blinks and shakes his head as though coming to his senses. 

With a big sigh, he ambles towards the shoreline, dropping his beer on the ground as he passes. The world is swirling, but without his eyes on you, you suddenly feel invisible. Taking a deep breath, you follow him as best you can. You aren’t graceful and you certainly aren’t quiet, but the sound of deep sleep comes from the tents you have to pass, undisturbed even when you almost fall on top of them.

When he reaches the water he stops and leans his head back, looking up to the night sky. “You fool, Arthur Morgan,” he mumbles. “Why’d you have to be such an idiot? No wonder the women hate yer.”

You clear your throat and he flinches so hard, he almost falls over. You apologise, rushing forward to catch him. He grasps your outstretched arms and somehow manages to right himself. It takes a moment to realise you’re still holding on to one another.

“I’m sorry about before,” you begin, dropping your arms.

He mirrors you, shaking his head. “Nah, s’my fault. I ain’t ever been the best drunk.”

“I’m- I don’t mean that. I’m just…” You force yourself to take a deep breath.

“Listen, it was my mistake. There’s a lot going on, we gotta lotta plates spinnin’ and then I saw you, and...” He trails off, looking out at the water, sighing sadly. “I’m sorry for jumpin’ on yer like tha’.”

You follow his gaze out across the shore, listening to the waves lap gently over themselves. Dark smudges of geese fly through the moonlight and into the wisps of clouds that are starting to crawl in across the inky sky. Somewhere a laughing gull cries out, repeating itself like a grandfather clock on the hour.

“We’ve had… a lot to drink.” You close your eyes, but the world spins. He must see you wobble, because a hand touches your back before your eyes open again. You look up to thank him and find his eyes tracing your lips. You realise you’re biting your lip.

With a deep breath you straighten yourself up out of his arms. He doesn’t stop you, if anything it snaps him out of his trance.

“We’ve had a lot to drink and I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“O’course, Miss. I understand.”

You turn your head to look up at him, to learn more about the stranger, but instead you find yourself staring at the muscles in his arms and the soft halo surrounding them. You swallow, and try to drag your gaze upwards, but you’ve already seen the bulge in his trousers, and you don’t make it to his face before noticing the skin radiating from the top of his shirt. His chest, his shoulders, his entire torso looks strong. You wonder if it feels the way it looks…

“You were saying, Miss?”

You feel the words vibrate through your fingers and rumble right down your arm. It takes a moment for the sound to wake you, and when it does you realise your mouth is open and your hand has found its way into the V of his shirt.

He’s already looking down at you. You feel the pulse of desire between your hips and the warmth spread as his grey gaze transfixes you. “Y/N?”

Grabbing his upper arm in one hand and his neck in the other, you pull yourself up to kiss him square on the mouth. With no need for encouragement, he returns the pressure, pulling you flush against his body.

Your body purrs as his trousers tense against your skirts, and a groan escapes your chest as his teeth brush your neck. Your head falls back, your lungs already panting, your nails dig into his shirt. When something brushes the back of your head, you open your eyes to see that you’ve moved a little away out of sight of those still at the fireside. He has you pressed up against the wall of eroded dirt, kissing you deeply, squeezing your breasts and you accept his worship.

His hair is thick between your fingers and you hook your leg around him to pull him closer. The move takes him by surprise, but he recovers quickly, providing you the weight you yearned for. He returns the motion, one hand breaking free from between you and rustling up your skirts in search of your ass.

You lower your leg and shove him hard in the chest. He falls back, confused until your undergarments land beside his head. You try to dispose of his trousers the same way, but the suspenders won’t allow you access. Realising your intentions, he pulls them off of his shoulders, cradling your head in both hands as he continues to nibble your lip, your hands fumbling over his union suit.

Coming up for air frustrates you until you see his exposed chest. You trace your fingers over his skin as his grip moves to your hips, pulling you down onto that bulge.

“Get this thing off me now or so help me,” you moan. Eager to obey, he pulls the waistband of your skirt, making it crack as the buttons pop off. With help, you manage to lift the skirt over your head, your blouse already unbuttoned half way.

He pulls his arms free from the cotton as you tug his trousers from his legs, his feet wrestling clumsily as he tries to kick off his boots. You try to scoop the loose change back into his pockets, but he’s pulled you back on top of him, kissing you again, his hands exploring your exposed skin and tugging at the strings of your corset. You try to help him, but the thick member rubbing against the inside of your thigh wipes any pre-existing intentions

Your entire body stiffens as he slips inside you with a long guttural groan. Suddenly the urgency has dissipated and is replaced with a low throbbing tremor deep into your core. Instinct forces your hips to grind deeper onto him, forcing air out of your lungs to make room.

You can feel yourself building, feel his fingers digging into the bare flesh of your hips, your pelvises trying to make contact with each other. You lift your arms behind your head, stretching your upper body as though somehow you can make more room for him inside you and cram more of him in. He pushes your body up and brings you slamming back down before you can object, and you feel it again, the throbbing of your core as he slowly bounces you over his shaft, groaning.

Before the bubble can burst, he throws you off. You open your mouth to argue, but he’s scrambling to his knees, reaching for your hips and pulling you back into him. You don’t really understand until you’re on all fours and he pushes himself back inside. He begins to build up speed, and you can feel his balls slapping against your clit. You don’t know what to do with yourself, he’s hitting all your sweet spots, your hands reaching for anything to hold onto, but instead returning fistfulls of dirt, sand and seaweed.

Your eyes roll as the bubble of pleasure which has grown ever larger inside you bursts. You can feel your muscles squeezing, then pulsing and squeezing again as though milking him. You can hear him choking at the sensation and as the edge of your orgasm softens, you push back hard and pull away, lengthening each stroke.

Arthur cries out into the night as he empties himself of weeks of pressure. You can feel it pouring into you, feel him twitching against your walls, and you lean back greedily. Eventually there is nothing other than your shared panting. No snoring, no birds, barely any tide.

You land on your front, exhausted. A muffled thud confirms Arthur has also hit the ground. You can barely summon the energy to lift your eyelids - the orgasm far exceeds anything you have achieved on your own or past partners.

Eventually you roll onto your back. The purple of the night is retreating in favour of violet and soft pinks. Following the colours, you see the first trickles of the sun bleeding over the shrine of the camp. You let it wash over you, feel it cleansing your spirit.

Wondering if Arthur is still breathing, you lift your head. He is also watching the serene sunrise, tranquility smoothing the lines of his face.

The bark of a dog snaps you back to reality. People are stirring in camp and you are as good as naked on the beach. As though summoned by the horror, a chuckle ripples over the water.

“Have yourselves a good evening?” asks a man rowing past. You grab your skirts and whatever else is at hand and flee.

************

“What were you thinking?”

Arthur groans, pulling the blanket over his face, but it gets yanked straight back to his waist. “Not now. Please, Hosea.”

“Not now? Put your trousers back on, boy, before there’s a mutiny!”

He tries to reach to see if there’s evidence for the battering, but he vomits spectacularly over the edge of the bed.

“What the devil took over you last night? You! Of all people!”  Arthur is barely able to breath between retches, the remnants of the moonshine, spirits and bile, splashing against the crates. “You take the one girl here without a history and- what’re you doing over here? Go find your mother!”

“Calm down, she’ll get paid,” he groans, wiping his mouth as a loud giggle knocks another nail into his brain..

“Why has Uncle Arthur got his bottom out?”

“Ooft, mark the day, young Jack! Eyewitness accounts report that the sun does not, in fact, shine out of Arthur Morgan’s arse cheeks! Who’d’ve thunk!”

“Mr Macguire, make yourself useful and take the boy with you! And tell the women to stay the other side of camp too!”

“Aw, but they’re already gigglin’ about it.”

“No one will be gigglin’ when I’m finished! Now git!”

“Alrigh’, alrigh’, keep your pants on!” Sean’s cackle splits Arthur’s head open. He tries to move the blanket, awareness creeping in amongst the hangover as the infamous chortle sounds.

“Not you too, Dutch. Go see to the women.”

“My boy, you have royally outdone yourself this time.” His laughter booms off the trees. “Come along, Miss O’Shea, nothing to see here.”

“I think a lot of t’girls will disagree with you there, Dutch.”

“Especially Y/N if the stories are true!”

“Ain’t no stories to be tellin’! Everybody heard them!”

“Shee-yit.” Arthur groans, his memory hissing at the scratch marks on his back..

“Trousers on. Now. Before more people come ogling.” The chest by his feet creaks open, and clothes begin to rain on him. “And for the love of God, sort out the mess you made on the shore! Last thing we need is Pinkerton’s following the trail of bloomers to camp!”

He sits up with a grunt, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, eyes squinting at the bright light of the tent. Hosea kicks a lone worn boot away from the puddle, cursing.

“A little privacy?”

“Don’t make me laugh! You might not be a teenager, but I’ll throw you out by your ear!”

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” The old man gestures to the heavens. “Where to start? Disrupting the camp with your racket! Littering belongings for others to find! Playing buckaroo with the girl who’s here for her protection!”

“Her protection?” He scoffs, his hands shaking too much to button his shirt, but his stomach sinks.

“She didn’t tell you?”

He winces. “We didn’t do much talking,” he admits.

“Dutch found her robbing the trailers just above Rhodes. He was going to give her a ride home - to that run down place, Lonnie’s Shack - but Sean had scoped it that morning. Said some bandits rocked up and took out the father living there before setting up camp. So Dutch brought her here instead.”

“Bet you’re going to say she’s not even a whore at this rate,” he groans, trying to push himself off the bed, but the sight of his adopted father’s scowl knocks him back. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“Get up and clean up, mister!” Hosea kicks the chest and stalks away. “Before I give Bill his gelding tongs back!”

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The King Of Character Actors

CHAPTER SIX: The Actor, Charles Durning

Featuring Charles Durning

Around 1990, I was working as a bellman at a hotel near Harvard Square in Cambridge, Ma. One day when I was just about to get off, I was asked to help a guess, a celebrity to their room. I said OK, since I was getting off right after and probably get a tip. Turns out it was actor Charles Durning. He's been in a lot of movies, television shows and plays, the last was why he was in town. He had everyday looks, about 5’8”, a portly 300 lbs, thinning hair and a bulbous nose with a goatee, wearing jacket, slacks and sneakers.

"What's your son?"

"Daniel, Sir."

"Hope I didn't ruin any after work plans?"

After assuring him he wasn't ruining any plans of mine, I brought him to his room to get him settled in. We hit it off after I told him I came from a big family, too. He was a FUNNY man who told me the best stories for a half an hour and I laughed so much it hurt. There was something about him. I could tell that he was special. There was nothing Hollywood about him; he was the guy on the bar stool next to you, except he did more with his life than a busload of other people. This guy had it all. Despite that, I certainly wasn't about to do anything with anybody at work.

I ended up talking to Charlie as told me to call him over upward of six or seven times over several days in his stay. This was partly because of the errands he'd have do and partly because Charlie was such a consummate storyteller; witty, incisive, profane, that you didn't want him to stop talking. I was so happy to indulge him....(I couldn't say no)!

On one such errand, I picked up a package that arrived at the hotel for him and brought up to his room. I knocked, but got no answer. I knocked again; I heard movement before the door being unlocked on the other side. Mr. Durning opened the door; he had on a hotel bathrobe and the look on his face was of such pleasure. He greeted me with a hug, and almost yanked me in. After I gave him his package, we immediately started chatting his play and my day.

He was sitting on the bed with his legs apart. From under his robe I could see his cock and huge ball sack hanging down. There I was with that beautiful cock of his, plopped on the bed right in front of me. I think he noticed me looking and began to loosen the belt of his robe so I could see his heavy chest. The water from his shower showed in the cleavage of his big tits. Oh my, was I in heaven!

He started telling me dirty jokes and I was getting kind of uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. I didn't want to end up getting a hard on. Seeing Charlie's hung cock lying on the bed was such a turn on. I listened to him carefully wondering where the conversation would lead.

From time to time, he'd give me a glance as if he’s trying to figure out what my reaction would be. Then he'd look away followed by grabbing his junk. After the 2nd or 3rd “touching” I saw that his dick was reacting to his touch.

"Do you want it?" I finally heard him say as I haven't heard him the first couple of times he asked.

"Um… yeah?!" I blurted out.

“Then get to work then.” Charlie said with a devilish smile.

I can’t believe it. Charles Durning of all people, is telling me to get to work on his cock. What a dominate sexy man. I got to my knees and I slid my hands up his legs towards his crotch. I quickly open up his robe, causing his cock to snap back against his big belly. I couldn’t resist anymore and dove onto his cock. It was like a drug as his fresh manly scent fills my nose and sends me to overdrive.

Charlie's cock generously fills my mouth and causes my lips to stretch in order to accommodate it. I slide it all the way down my throat, taking the full length as Charlie throws his head back and groans. Grabbing the back of my head, he starts trusting his cock in deeper as he fucks my face. A dream come true, I thought as I feel his pace quicken before I started to gag.

As I started jacking him off to catch my breathe, I asked him if he’d been with a lot of guys before and he told me just not that many. Just a few blow-jobs. I told him he was in for a treat as I spat in my hand and applied to my hole. Charlie looked both excited and nervous, laying there completely naked with a huge hard-on. I told him I would take care of him as I climbed on top of him, guiding his cock into my hole with one hand and tweaking his nipple with the other. He was totally into the scene and with his eyes closed and a nasty grin on his face he was moaning with great pleasure as became his whore.

As soon as his dick made contact, Charlie immediately thrust all 8 inches into me. I gasped loudly, so loudly in fact that I’m sure the people in the next room heard. The old man was up my ass and I was begging to be fucked. He was grinning that nasty grin and telling me to take his cock and to ram my ass on his old thick man cock. Putting both hands on his chest and started bouncing up and down on his cock, telling him he could fuck me as hard as he wanted. With that, he started the most rhythmic fuck I have ever had! Who would have thought this older man could do it so well!

All I wanted was for him to seed me and own me forever as rode his cock like mad. I was begging for his load as I could tell he was getting close and I didn’t want to stop him.

"Get ready, boy I'm cumming, I'm cumming! He said as he drove his cock into my ass further than anything had ever been.

It was seconds later he exploded in my ass screaming "Take it all boy!"

Charlie was filling my ass up as I fell into his arms, covered in sweat and forcing our eager tongues into each other’s lusting mouths. I moaned with satisfaction as I turned on to my back, ready to jerk myself off, but I didn’t have a chance. Charlie immediately buried his face into my crotch. The sensation of his warm mouth and the touch of his hand on my balls were like nothing I had felt with another man. He pushed his head down on it as far as he could without gagging. I felt the head rubbing the back of his throat.

He was eagerly gobbling my cock and it was as if he was a starved man trying to satisfy his hunger. I began to run my fingers through his thick gorgeous gray hair. I started to push him down farther on my dick. I began to run my fingers through his gray hair as I started to push him down farther on my dick. Charlie opened his mouth and relaxed his jaw to take more in. I squirmed to let him know I was about to cum and he just shoved his head down farther on me as I began to erupt in his throat. I felt like gallons were leaving my body and he sucked every drop out of me.

"Lets do this again before I leave." Charlie whispered to me as I got dressed.

I agreed. This had been one of the best love-making session I had ever experienced and I wasn’t going to let it be the last. We managed to find time throughout the run of his play to fuck like wild rabbits.