#which is a wild thing to assume about a building full of strangers

[lauronk]

story time in the tags lol

"forgive and forget" WRONG! go to hell

[strangunddurm]

The Cabin

Masterlist

Pairing: Clyde Logan x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, self pleasure, fingering, masturbation, alcohol consumption.

Please accept my offering of my vision of mountain man Clyde.

A hike in the woods was meant to calm your mind and let you focus on yourself for a while; a sort of cheap alternative to going to a spa. However, you were anything but relaxed, and focused on everything except just yourself.

You were lost. Despite spending hours on YouTube trying to learn how to navigate, you had still taken the wrong turn and didn’t notice until it was too late. Thankfully it was the beginning of autumn, so it was still warm outside, and you didn’t need to start worrying about getting cold just yet, despite the sun slowly descending across the horizon.

The crappy phone which you had insisted didn’t need replacing had died long before you realized just how lost you were. You had a particularly bad habit of never charging your phone and it was coming back to bite you in the ass.

You had taken a, supposedly, easy trail. ‘Beginner friendly’ was the description your friend had given you when you asked for tips. You were cursing them mentally in your mind now, their definition of ‘beginner friendly’ was obviously vastly different from yours.

It had been hours, or at least it felt like it. You were steadily making your way through the granola bars you had packed. Your version of survivor mode consisted of trying to eat everything you could see due to anxiety, instead of saving it in case you’d be out here for hours.

It was the same rock you had passed a while back, you were sure of it, convinced that you were officially just walking in one big circle.

You hadn’t seen anyone else out on the trails which were surprising.; you figured trails were usually always packed with curious adventurers.

The snap of a branch pulled you out of your inner monologue, causing you to freeze and your heart to painfully contract in fear. You were sure that this was the moment you would die; a rabid coyote was surely bound to attack you at any moment. Were there even coyotes in West Virginia? You didn’t want to find out.

Turning around to see what it was that had made the sound wasn’t an option in your mind, it really wasn’t. Turning around would, in your mind, mean that you were accepting being mauled to death and despite your sometimes negative output you wanted to live for a while longer.

“Please, please, please don’t be a coyote… pleas-“ You let out a loud scream as a hand grabbed onto your shoulder, instinctively jabbing your elbow back to connect with the somewhat soft stomach of someone who was very much not a wild and crazed animal.

Whoever was behind you let out a low ‘ouff’ sound from your attack but did not seem overly affected otherwise.

“Sorry!” It was a man’s voice, judging from the deep tone of it. You whirled around whilst simultaneously attempting to take a step backwards, resulting in you falling to the ground ungracefully. There was definitely no chance you could run away from him now if he turned out to be less than friendly.

“Who are you?” You shuffled back against the ground, trying to put some distance between the two of you in naïve hope. The stranger, noticing your distress, put his hands out in front of him whilst taking a few steps back, increasing the distance between the two of you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare ye.” You surveyed him sceptically as he apologized. He looked like he was a nice person, but that only went so far, anyone had the ability to look nice. He blended into your surroundings, lacking the bright colours you were wearing; it was obvious that he did not share in your desire to want to be seen. He also looked like he was much more used to the woods than you were (not that it was hard).

“Are ye okay?” His question made you realize that you hadn’t replied, and you were still lying there like a seal on the ground. You stumbled up onto your feet with a huff, grabbing a stick that was laying by your hand just as you thrust yourself up.

It was a small stick, definitely incapable of causing serious bodily harm but you hoped that if you were desperate enough, it could poke out an eye. Or at least scratch it.

You held it out in front of you, wielding it like a sword. It was hard not to miss the smile that flew across the stranger’s face. You were most likely a funny sight, a flustered and oblivious city girl waving a twig. But you felt like King Arthur waving Excalibur and that was all that mattered. One lonely girl pumped full of adrenaline could do a lot of damage with a twig and a mean right hook.

“What do you want?” You spat. A tiny voice inside of you told you that you were being ridiculous. Here he was, a nice man probably just concerned over seeing you wander through the woods, obviously lost, so close to nightfall. But the devil on your other shoulder told you to trust no man, to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine and take off like a bat out of hell.

“I just wanted to see if ye were okay; it gets cold out here at night.” He still had his hands up like he was getting arrested. You considered his words carefully. You weren’t okay, you hadn’t planned on staying out until nightfall. All you were going to do was hike to the top of the mountain and go back down, but apparently, you were too incompetent to even perform that simple task.

“I called out a couple of times, but ye didn’t seem to hear me.”

“Oh,” You dropped the twig at the revelation. It explained a lot; you were after all notorious for getting lost in your thoughts and turning deaf.

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly as you lowered the stick to your side but still grasped it tightly (just in case). You sent him a small apologetic smile even though you didn’t owe him one.

“So, do ye need help?”

“Hmm…” Did you need help? You glanced around you, surveying your surroundings again. It was a lot closer to dark than you were comfortable with. The granola bars were all gone, you didn’t have anything warmer on than the fleece jacket you had dug out from the back of your closet. You had no way of contacting anyone and you were not competent enough to build anything close to a working shelter for the night.

You eyed him again as you thought over your answer. He seemed nice enough, he reminded you slightly of a big, burly bear. He was a behemoth of a man, standing tall and wide with dark hair and eyes, but there was some kindness there that made you feel as if you could trust him.

The thing that eventually won you over was his hand, it was obviously a prosthetic now that you were focusing on him. You hoped that a prosthetic hand meant that it was much less likely that he could grab a firm hold on you.

-

Clyde Logan wasn’t a very talkative man. If you were to google ‘mountain man’ he would pop up as one of the image results. The modern version of course, accompanied by the usual camo gear. You had always had a weakness for the lumberjack flannels and the thick moustache that tickled his lips had you wondering what it would look like drenched in your juices.

But it would be stupid attempting to seduce the grumpy man that had saved you from certain death, right?

He knew so much about the woods and the dangers that were surrounding you, making you realize just how stupid you were to be out there alone. But of course, he didn’t offer you all of this information on his own. No, you had to practically force the words out of his mouth, but thankfully you were the Master of Babble, and he was eventually forced to answer if he ever wanted you to shut up.

You were making your way to his cabin that was apparently just over a mile away. Clyde was leading the way with you practically walking on his heels trying to keep up with his long strides and sneaking looks over your shoulder in paranoia to see if anyone was following the two of you.

Clyde had said that it was too late to return to your car seeing how late it was. Apparently, you had walked in the completely wrong direction from the start and were now a couple of miles away from civilization. He had graciously offered you a sleeping spot in his cabin over the night with a promise to help you back first thing in the morning.

It was picturesque, Clyde’s cabin. Nothing less than what you expected of the man, and surprisingly a lot cleaner than what you had assumed from stereotyping.

“This is so cute!” You admired, sending a small smile up to Clyde with a tilt of your head. He almost looked embarrassed over your praise, only responding with a small huff as he took his shoes off and walking toward the kitchen area.

It was a studio type of situation. Everything was in one room: the small kitchenette, tv-area, and makeshift bedroom. Clyde had flipped a switch which turned on a light that illuminated the entire cabin in a soft glow.

“There’s a bathroom over there.” Clyde gestured to a door on the left, and you couldn’t help peaking in. You hadn’t expected a fully functional bathroom at all, seeing how you were in the middle of nowhere but here it was. And you were so grateful. Going potty in the woods was not on your bucket list.

“Are ye hungry? It’s nothin’ much but I have some sandwiches that we can eat.” Clyde ran his fingers through his hair as he asked the question nervously when you came over after your brief tour of the cabin.

“A sandwich would be great, thank you!” You took it gratefully from his hand as he offered it to you before plopping down on the couch.

You were a lot hungrier than you had though. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you unwrapped the sandwich and taking a bite.

“Have you had this for long?” You said after you had finished chewing your first bite, gesturing with your hand wildly to the cabin.

“Couple of years.” Clyde didn’t look at you as he responded, focused intently on his own sandwich.

He left it at that, not elaborating any further and you didn’t want to cross the obvious boundary he had drawn, so you stayed quiet.

You were never good with silence and awkward situations. When others were perfectly comfortable with silence you just had to talk. Googled had diagnosed it as a symptom of anxiety but you had never actually built enough courage up to actually have a evaluation.

“Do you like to read?” You had taken notice of the overflowing bookcase he had. It was hard not to, it was perhaps the biggest piece of furniture he had, spanning the length of an entire wall.

“Mhmm” Honestly, the hums he would do to answer your questions made you soaked.

“What’s your favourite?” He looked as if he was considering your question, leaning back into his seat and looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

“It would have to be In Search for Lost Time by Marcel Proust.”

“I love that book.”

“Is that so?” You nodded your head with wide eyes, happy to have found a subject to talk about. You loved books, yes, but to be honest you had never read that book. But you were hoping you could wing it enough so that Clyde wouldn’t notice.

“What’s your favourite part?” Okay, so maybe you hadn’t thought it through. You couldn’t hide the small wince you did at his question.

It would’ve been better to have said nothing at all, you just really wanted Clyde to like you. You didn’t know why; it wasn’t like you were ever going to see him again. It was just that there was something about him that made you want to kneel and say, ‘please daddy’ and you didn’t know how to get there with someone so reluctant to talk.

“Ye tryin’ to impress me?” He must be a mind reader.

“Oh, no I just-“ You trailed off, unsure over what to say that would not make you seem as desperate.

He stood up, watching you as he made his way around the room, but he wasn’t moving toward you; instead, he disappeared through the front door without a word.

You deflated like a balloon as the door shut behind him, sinking into the cushions and cursing yourself. Why were you so desperate to impress people? The answer was simple because you were you and you had an irrational need for people having to like you.

-

Clyde wasn’t gone for long. He had simply gone out to fill up on the firewood for the fireplace that you had neglected to notice before.

“It’s supposed to get below 30 here tonight.” Was it rude to say that you were impressed with how easily he did things despite only having one hand? It wasn’t that you expected him to not be able to function at all, it’s just that you were barely functioning yourself with two hands.

It had already started getting just a tiny bit colder, enough for you to have curled your legs onto the couch, leaning on the armrest with a blanket thrown over you. The cold was a fiend that you would never get along with.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are ye sorry for?” He looked truly bewildered over your words, stopping what he was doing and looking up at you from his crouched position.

“I shouldn’t have lied.”

“’S okay.” He continued with starting a fire. “We’ve all told a white lie.”

“That’s true, but I’m usually better at playing it off.” You joked and he shared a chuckle with you.

It was cozy once Clyde got the fire started. He turned off the lamp in the ceiling, muttering something about preserving a battery, opting to turn on another by the bed and then settled back down. He was sitting next to you this time, not across from you in the chair as previously. You could practically feel the heat radiating from his skin, he was so close. The couch was small, only a two-seater, but you suppose that he didn’t need much more seeing how he was only one person.

Clyde crowded your personal space. It felt like he was everywhere around you, suffocating you (but in the best way). He slung his arm over the back of the couch, just barely grazing your back. You were surprised with how forward he was being but decided not to question it too much, figuring he might take it wrong and shy away.

“Yer not from ‘round here are ye?”

“Is it so obvious?” Of course, it was obvious. You told him where you lived and there seemed to be a small glint of recognition in his eyes.

“Ye should get a guide next time, one of the rangers will take ye for free.” It was surprising how caring he seemed to be.

“One of the rangers?” You didn’t want a ranger to show you around the next time.

“Mhmm”

“Can’t you take me?” You diverted your eyes from his face as you asked the question, feigning being shy. You let them trace down his sculptured-by-God body, double-checking for a ring on one of his fingers. There was none, or well you assumed that it wasn't a wedding ring. It didn't look like one, it had more of a class ring vibe to it.

Clyde didn’t respond immediately. He was studying you, analyzing every crevice of your face it seemed like.

It was impossible not to get lost in his eyes. You tried really hard not to at first but gave up way too quickly. You wondered if he knew just how attractive he was. He had to have several ladies running after him, desperate for a getaway in his cabin in the woods.

“Do ye want me to?” He finally asked. It was obvious that he had tensed up at your question. His back was rigid, he was sitting as straight as you had ever seen a person sit.

“Maybe…” You were subconsciously leaning closer toward him, inhaling as much of his sent as you could discreetly. It was very vampire-like of you.

He smelled just as you thought he would. Like pine trees. There was just the smallest undertone of sweat and it drove you wild. It wasn’t usually your scent of choice for obvious reasons but on Clyde… On Clyde it was as if he had been doused in some kind of pheromones that made you completely drenched and mad with want.

You thankfully stopped yourself before you could release the moan that was bubbling in your throat. Who in their right mind moaned to a stranger that they hadn’t even touched over the way they smelled? (Only counting people that weren’t high or drunk, of course).

It was a battle getting you to lean away from Clyde again, but the rational part of your brain thankfully won. You had to dig your nails into your thighs, trying to pinch yourself through the fabric of your pants to bring you back to reality and gain some self-control.

“I’ll take you.” He promised with a nod, looking as serious as always. You wondered if he always wore that expression with everyone. You hadn’t been able to coax a lot of smiles out of him, despite categorizing yourself as a fairly hilarious person and having cracked some jokes on the walk to the cabin.

You sent him a small smile in response, feeling relieved not to have been rejected. That would’ve been embarrassing.

He surveyed you for a while more before finally asking if you wanted a drink.

-

The makeshift bar cabinet that he had was surprisingly well-stocked. Too well-stocked for him to be a raging alcoholic. You questioned him curiously about it. Finding out that he was a bartender was a welcomed surprise. You challenged him to make a drink you had never heard of, and he was quick to deliver.

It was delicious, making it easy to pay him compliments over his talent.

“I own a bar, ‘s called Duck Tape.” It was clear that he was proud over his business, with the way his chest seemed to almost swell with his words.

You told him about your own job, not exactly sharing the same enthusiasm seeing how your job was one of the main reasons for why you needed a stress-relieving hike in the first place.

You’d always been a lightweight. It was no secret; you had an uncanny ability to be able to get hammered on one glass of alcohol. Google told you that it could have something to do with your liver, but you did not want to go to the hospital to find out.

You neglected to think about this small fact when you asked Clyde to make you a drink and you were now suffering the consequences. You were drunk, or at least somewhere over the border of tipsy.

Clyde seemed to have relaxed from the alcohol as well. He was much freer in letting a laugh leave his body which had caused you to jump at first in surprise at the boisterous sound.

He had shuffled closer to you, or was it you that had shuffled closer to him? It had happened without either of the two of you noticing but you didn’t try to move away once you did.

You didn’t speak about anything of significance, not really. It was all nonsense, but you never wanted it to stop. Eventually, you mutually decided that sleep was a necessity if you were going to have the energy to get back to your car in the morning.

“Ye can take the bed if ye want.” Clyde motioned over the back of the couch toward the bed in the corner of the room. You glanced over at it, gnawing at your lip as you considered his proposal. Would it be inappropriate to say that you wanted him to share the bed with you?

The bed was too small for it to be shared in any way that wasn’t intimate which was exactly what you wanted.

You assumed that Clyde was as interested in you as you were of him. His hand was dangerously close to your knee as it sat on the seat of the sofa; if he moved his finger less than an inch it would graze your skin.

“Where would you sleep?” You feigned innocent.

“I’ll take the couch.” He knew what you were doing; you could see it in his eyes. They had grown even darker than before and were hooded as they watched you. It was easy to get lost in them, they were the most expressive eyes you had ever seen.

Both of you knew that neither of you would sleep on the couch that night.

There was a flurry of hands and all of a sudden you were in his lap, grinding down, lips connected to one another.

Clyde was a great kisser. Scratch that. He was amazing. He knew exactly how to make you completely drenched from just a few nibbles and strokes of his tongue against your own. He was a natural (Or a player, but you somehow got the impression that he didn’t lure innocent people to his cabin on the regular for a quick lay).

You could feel how hard he was despite the layers separating his bulge from your core. Hard and large and it made you dizzy to think about.

Clyde was taking his time running his hands up and down your waist, his right hand grabbing here and there, never moving under your shirt despite your obvious eagerness. A roll of his hips elicited a moan from you.

Your own hands weren’t shy in their movements; they were grasping onto his broad shoulders, holding on to the fabric as you tried to pull him closer to you.

He separated his lips from yours with a chuckle.

“Eager, are we?” His crooked grin was panty-dropping worthy.

He trailed his lips down your neck before you could reply, suckling gently over your pulse point.

The moan he pulled from you echoed around the room as you tilted your head to the side, allowing him more room to roam.

Your hands tighten their hold on his shoulders. You had always been extra sensitive around the neck and the combination of his lips and the tickle from his moustache was enough to send you into overdrive.

“Clyde…” You breathed out his name shakily, feeling tingles start to travel from your hands and up your arms from the excitement.

He hoisted you up surprisingly quickly from the sofa, causing you to let out a shriek in surprise.

He was strong. Of course, he was strong, you shouldn’t have expected anything else but still…

He carried you toward the bed, setting you down unceremoniously on the edge. You had to grab a hold of the sheet so as not to fall over.

“I want you to strip.” There was no room for arguing in his voice, and it was exactly what you needed. You didn’t want to have to think about your actions.

He was watching you intently, waiting for you to do as you were told, causing you to frantically reach for the zip of your fleece, pulling it down your arms and then throwing it mindlessly away from you.

Your shirt was the next thing that came off. Clyde’s gaze followed as your shirt revealed more and more skin. You didn’t miss the way he bit his lip hungrily.

Your bra wasn’t perhaps the sexiest thing you owned but you weren’t exactly expecting to be in the situation you were when you headed out that morning.

The bra joined the other items a bit slower. You wanted to drag it out; was it mean that you wanted him to have to suffer just a tiny bit?

You were basking in his obvious admiration of your body as you slowly slid the pants down and stepped out of them, leaving you in just your socks and underwear.

Perhaps it wasn’t the sexiest you had ever looked, but it was the sexiest you had ever felt, and that was the important part.

“Panties too.” He had started palming himself through his pants, huffing out small groans of satisfaction here and there. It had made you drenched and you did not doubt that it was obvious to him just how aroused you were.

You were finally standing there in front of him, completely bare, socks and panties having been removed. His eyes ran over every inch and crevice of you that was visible in the low light.

He was still fully dressed, having just unbuttoned his pants so that he could force his hand down to tug at himself.

“I want you to lay down and touch yourself.” Touch yourself? Couldn’t he do it? You opened your mouth to argue but one look from Clyde made you snap your mouth shut again.

The comforter was soft against your skin as you laid down on your back. You were shy as you separated your legs just enough so that you could slip your hand in between your legs.

The first touch was electric. You had never felt such a reaction from simply touching yourself. Sure, you were an expert in getting yourself off, but it never felt quite like this, not this good from so little.

You circled your bud, applying just the right pleasure that caused you to moan. Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily, getting lost in the feeling building in your belly.

“Open yer eyes.” He had moved closer, a lot closer, with surprising stealth as you hadn’t heard even a low scuffle of feet. His eyes were commanding the attention of your own as he scolded you.

You withdrew your hand automatically from yourself, moving it up to rest on your belly, thinking that he must want you to stop. You were wrong, however, for his eyes snapped down to watch it and he scolded you once again.

“I didn’t tell ye to stop.” He only moved away once more when he was satisfied with your continued movements.

He walked over to the single chair by the living room table, dragging it with him back over to the bed, placing it by the end where he would get just the right view of you working yourself.

He pulled his pants down before sitting down with a huff. He had gone commando. You let out a whimper of need at the sight.

Clyde Logan was the owner of the most perfect cock you had ever seen. It was so heavy that it had barely been able to bob against his stomach, despite his sitting position.

You arched your neck, trying to get a closer look. It was swollen and huge and pink at the tip. His thumb was working over the head, smearing the precum that had leaked out.

“Ye stopped.” It was a statement, and he didn’t need to give you further instructions for you to once again start moving your hand between your legs.

You let it travel further down this time, to collect some of your wetness with two fingers before bringing it up to your mouth and tasting yourself. Sweet and tangy.

Clyde didn’t make a single sound to let you know if he was affected by your actions, so all you could do was assume that he was, and that was enough to spur you on.

You brought your hand back down, inserting a finger slowly, testing the waters. You were more than ready, your walls giving way easily to the intrusion.

A second soon joined the first and you set a steady rhythm, pumping them in and out with a squelch as your walls clenched around your digits. Your other palm came up to massage at your breast, twisting the nipple between your fingertips.

Your chest heaved with your moans that were penetrating the air. It was hard keeping your eyes open with the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling but you had to stay focus, you didn’t want to miss a second of seeing Clyde slumped from the pleasure of his touch as he fucked into his hand.

“I want ye to make yerself cum.” You were more than happy to give in to this demand. Your fingers were moving urgently inside of you, and your other hand moved on from your breast, coming down to pinch at your clit and then rub tight small circles over it.

The heat that had been steadily building inside of you, blossoming in your stomach, was slowly taking over your entire body now. Your toes were beginning to curl, and you were fighting your eyes from rolling backwards in your head.

And then, it all became too much for you and you let go and the best part of it all rolled over you like tidal waves, washing through you, soaking you with that post-orgasmic glow.

You let your fingers slowly slip out of you, letting your arms fall to your sides as you watched Clyde get up. You didn’t know if he had come, having been too focused on yourself, but it didn’t matter, he still stood at full attention.

Your mouth practically frothed at the sight of him, you could turn rabid from the need that you had for him. A whine slipped out of your mouth, an arm lifting up to reach out for him, needing to touch him.

He came close enough so that your fingers could just barely brush against the fabric of his pants that he still insisted on having on.

Rage took over your body. It was an irrational rage, why did he still have them on? You wanted them off and you wanted them off now. You had to see him, all of him, before you went insane from the deprivation. Was it even possible? To lose your mind over not getting to see another person naked? You certainly thought so.

You sat up, leaning on one of your shoulders as you looked up at him with a glare on your face.

“Take them off.” He was thoroughly amused by your attempt at a demand. You didn’t achieve quite the same rumble in your tone that he had which left no room for arguing, but still, he conceded and pushed the pants down his legs until they were low enough to be kicked off.

His shirt followed soon after, almost hitting you in the face as he threw it carelessly toward the corner of the bed.

You couldn’t help but admire him. A work of art, good enough to be hung in the Met, that was for sure.

You got on your knees in front of him, the height from the bed aiding you in being just tall enough so that you could place kisses on his chest- You placed the first one in the middle, right over his sternum whilst looking up at him.

Your eyes stayed locked as you planted another kiss over his heart, the next on his right pec, and so forth. They circled around one of his nipples, letting your teeth give it a small nibble before pulling it with you just a bit before releasing it and letting it revert to its original state, hard as a rock.

It was starting to get more and more obvious just how affected Clyde was getting, his arousal much more prominent, if that was even possible. You could feel it against your skin, you didn’t want to touch it just yet, dragging it out for as long as you could.

You enjoyed watching him become more and more flustered by your actions. His chest was heavy with each audible breath, cock tapping against your lower stomach, begging to be touched, but you kept your hands away. They were holding on to his thighs, caressing them in small movements that were making their way toward his cock at snail pace.

“Ye gon’ tease me all night?” You let out a laugh at the ridiculous accusation. If anybody had been the one to tease, it was Clyde.

“Are you going to tease me all night?” You threw the question back at him, biting your lip with an innocent smile.

He growled. He actually growled and you could feel how it caused a trickle to roll down your leg.

“Didn’t yer mammy or daddy ever teach ye not to talk back?”

���They didn’t actually” His eyes had steadily grown darker and darker as the evening progressed and were now on the border of black.

He smashed your lips together, grabbing a hold of your face with his right hand with a bruising grip. He kissed and nipped at your lips before pulling back and pushing you back onto the bed.

He was quick to follow you onto the bed as he guided you to lay on your back, spread eagle, with him kneeling between your legs. His hands were on his hips as he watched you. You squirmed under his gaze, trying to create some type of friction anywhere that would aid in bringing you closer to another release.

His kisses started on your inner knee, building their way up at a torturous pace. He didn’t leave a kiss between your legs; instead, he just hovered there so you could feel his hot breath tickle you before continuing.

You were practically sobbing for more when he finally made it to your lips.

“Please, you have to…”

“I have t’ what?” He looked completely serious as he looked down at you, balanced on one hand. He was expecting an answer from you, and you didn’t know what to say. You obviously wanted him to fuck you but for some reason, you were too shy to say it.

“Mhm… thought so,” He hummed before dropping down to his elbows pressing his entire body onto you.

You could feel all of him. His skin was electric against your own and you could feel his length brushing over your clit. He rolled his hips in a small wave and you arched your back from the moan that escaped you.

It had all built up so much that the smallest touch from him could cause you to completely fall apart, despite the orgasm you had had. It was because it was different when Clyde was the one that touched you; your own touch was nowhere near adequate in comparison.

He rolled his hips again, this time applying just a bit more pressure and you couldn’t help but to widen and draw up your legs slightly, wanting to give him easier access.

“I didn’t tell ye tha’ ye could move.” You were trembling from need at his words. You needed more; couldn’t he understand that?

You were reluctant as you started to bring your legs back down, but he (thankfully) hooked his left arm around your leg, stopping its descent. He hoisted it up to rest by the side of his hip as he simultaneously sat back upon his haunches.

“Do ye need me inside of ye?” Your head had started nodding before he could even finish the sentence, causing a wicked smile to spread across his face.

“I need t’ be inside of ye too.” They were the most glorious words you had ever heard.

His right hand gave a tug at his cock, but it didn’t need any more preparation. It was hard and as ready for you as you were him. He grabbed a hold of base, stabilizing it as he dragged it through your sweet and slickened folds before slowly slipping inside.

Your walls easily gave way for him as he finally pushed in due to your overflowing arousal. He stretched you as wide as you would go with little pain and raw pleasure. You were clenched tightly around him, walls squeezing him in a vice grip, trying to draw him in even deeper.

You could feel yourself grow more and more manic in your need as he sunk deeper and deeper into you. It was as if all other senses had disappeared and all you could focus on was his powerful thrusts that were drilling into you.

He kept your right leg at his hips, whilst his other hand was hoisting your left over his shoulder after just a few deep thrusts.

You choked from the warmth that spread through your body from this position. He was deeper than you even knew you could take him. The head of his cock tapping at your cervix with every drilling thrust but there was no pain, only excruciating pleasure that made tears leak from your eyes from happiness.

The carnal need was as fervent within Clyde as it was you. He couldn’t take it slow; his thrusts were forceful and intent on driving you to your next orgasm as quickly as he could.

“Fuck, ye feel good.” Clyde hissed. “Such a sweet an’ tight little pussy.”

Your eyes could barely focus on him, only catching small glimpses of him with his hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture that was collected there. Your hands were grasping onto the duvet, needing something to hold onto in desperation.

His thrusts were precise and well calculated; he hit that spot inside of you over and over again that made you let out guttural moans.

But he enjoyed torturing you and he suddenly came to a halt, retracting from you completely.

“Move over.” He helped to guide you in your haze. Your own movements were thankfully still quick despite your barely lucid mind as you shuffled to the side, and he laid down on the bed.

Clyde’s hand was supporting his base, helping it stand tall, ready for you to penetrate yourself onto it. You threw your leg over his hips to straddle him. You hovered over his cock, looking down to see how you were dripping on to him.

You didn’t stay there for too long before mounting yourself onto it, dropping down with a pant as you engulfed him within you.

The pace you set was frantic, chasing climax. Your hands came down to rest on his chest to better help you push yourself up and down his cock. The sound of your skin slapping against his echoed around the room, driving your wild.

He was a sight for sore eyes underneath you. Lost in the madness and wild from it all. His desire and pleasure were so clear on his face from the way his mouth was parted and the way his eyes admired you, following your every movement.

He used his right hand to help you ram down onto him again and again.

You got on your feet, gaining better leverage than you had had before on your knees, bouncing up and down. You were so, so close; you could feel your orgasm simmering there underneath the surface, you just needed a small push to get there. And Clyde delivered that small push.

“Yer such a good girl, takin’ me so well. You just love bein’ fucked, don’t ye?”

Your walls clamped down on him, legs shaking as you came to a stop, being unable to continue as you fell forward onto his chest, overwhelmed by the pleasure that filled your body.

He received you in his arms, letting his hand caress over your spine as you continued to slightly convulse from your orgasm.

“Such a good girl” He crooned in your ear with a kiss and tug on your lobe.

Clyde wasn’t as sweet when he pinned both your arms to your sides with one of his, holding you in place as he started slamming his hips up into you, chasing his own pleasure.

The sounds that came out of your as he rammed himself in over and over again were indistinguishable. You were gushing around him, your entire body vibrating from another orgasm, but he still didn’t let up. His hips were starting to stutter, however, thrusts being off-pace as he pounded into you.

And then a sharp thrust was accompanied by a husky cry as he ejected deep inside of you. He managed to pump into you a few more times as your walls milked him, your mixed climaxes collecting at his base.

You were exhausted, unable to move so he stayed there, deep inside of you as he grew flaccid.

You thought it was a fuck for the history books.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Dating and Goodreads

Back for Day 8-Blind date (how the hell do u guys come up with good title fics i struggle so bad lol). I wasn’t really going anywhere with this one, but when i read all of the others and saw how fun the fics were, i decided to finish this one.

also for Summertime and Fresh Strawberries, I deliberately left it blank but I can’t hold onto the secret bc two people were curious as to what happened, so i’ll let the rest of you know that aelin and rowan decided to keep summer and be a cute little family, bc im a sucker for happy endings lol (unless its angst, it’s safe to assume that all my rowaelin fics have happy endings bc they’ve all ready been thru so much and even in alt fics i need them to be happy lmao)

anyway, on to the next one. hope you enjoy!

1.8k words

cw: none

Aelin was a confident woman, something that she was proud of. But that didn't mean that there weren't times she didn't feel self-conscious or awkward and full of doubt.

Because right now, all those negative feelings were swimming inside of her.

And those feelings were just magnified today, especially since she had gotten fired only a few hours beforehand. It was utterly unexpected, she had never received any prior warnings, and while she was a fighter, Aelin didn't feel like stepping into the ring for this one. Not when her boss was a demon from hell that made life unbearable and she had to physically push herself into entering the work building.

Aelin told herself that it was for the best. She was miserable there and hated working in an office typing up the worlds most boring reports and working in a space that was entirely too drab.

But she wasn't looking forward to job hunting. Aelin was aware that she could ask her friends for favours, but if Aelin did something wrong, she didn't want it reflected back onto whoever helped her.

And she was still a little peeved over the damned argument she had online again with that haughty prick on Goodreads. Aelin wasn't sure why those arguments kept going, but each time she would post a review, White Tailed Hawk would respond, telling her that she read the book wrong and this and that and blah blah blah.

Aelin repaid the favour each time, telling him how he was wrong and he had no reading comprehension skills. And on and on it went until Aelin or whoever the fuck that guy was went back to their own lives.

Depressingly, it was the most fun she had some days.

Shaking her head, Aelin forced herself to think of the now and not of her shitty day. Still she sighed, not quite believing that she had agreed to this blind date. Couldn't believe that she had let Aedion convince her it was a good idea.

Aelin had said no at first, after Aedion had voiced his offer, and her cousin left it at that. But days went past, and he would bring up the topic of Rowan, about the things he had said that day, how his dry sense of humour took some time to get used to but once you figured it out, he was actually pretty funny, how he had finished a project perfectly and this and that.

But it got to her, annoyingly. So the other day when he was helping her out with some housework that was a two person job, Aelin told him to set up this date. Aedion cheered as if it was the best thing he had ever heard, telling her how she and Rowan were the perfect match for each other.

Aelin rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything of the assessment.

She had only agreed because it was getting frustrating being asked at every family event if she was dating someone, when she was going to give her parents grandchildren (that question pissed her off the most, as if Aelin was nothing but a birthing machine and that was all Aelin could contribute to society), and who was going to look after her when she was old if she didn't have children (because apparently carers didn't exist).

Aelin was also lonely—she could entertain herself just fine, but she did like the idea of coming home and talking to someone that could respond. She loved Fleetfoot and her enthusiasm when Aelin came home, but human companionship would be nice.

But Aelin didn't have high-hopes for this date because the universe liked to kick Aelin's ass from time to time, she suspected that they were going to hate each other.

Taking a deep breath, Aelin got out of her car, smoothed down her romper and went inside the restaurant, head held high.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't believe that he was about to go on a blind date. That Aedion had convinced him to go out with his younger cousin. He hadn't dated anyone since Lyria and he knew that his dating skills were going to be rusty as hell. He had been with Lyria since they were nineteen, married at 23 and divorced at 31; he had been single for the last two years.

It had been...fine, a little strange, after being with someone for so long to find himself a bachelor. Rowan never thought that he would apart from Lyria, but their relationship had just faded. Long before the divorce, it had been more like a housemate relationship than a marriage. He wasn't surprised when his ex-wife had come home after work with divorce papers. He had only stared at the paperwork for an hour before he signed the forms. Truthfully, Rowan was just glad that he was still on good terms with Lyria, that they could still talk to one another from time to time.

Rowan had almost called her earlier today, to ask how the hell dates went, but felt that it would have been crossing some invisible line, so he didn't call and instead had Googled the questions instead.

They didn't really help.

Rowan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, telling himself that if things went wrong, then it wasn't the end of the world. That if he had to be a bachelor for the rest of his life, then that was fine. He had plenty of ways of keeping himself busy—he had a good career, a nice house, plenty of books to read and to argue online about them with.

He had one earlier today, actually, with Queen of Wildfire about a new release that Rowan had eagerly read within days of its release. And once again, he ended up with an argument with the woman about the messages and themes within the book.

It was stupid, he knew, to be at his age and to be fighting online with a stranger, but something about this woman just had his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Some days he looked forward to it, as embarrassing as that was to admit. He didn't really want to look into himself to figure out what it all meant.

Eyes drifting to the dashboard, Rowan realised that his date was about to start. Popping a mint into his mouth and smoothing out his clothes, Rowan took a deep breath and left the car and went to his first date in twelve years.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too bad.

X X X X X X

The date had started out a little awkward, but that wasn't a surprise to Aelin, because what blind date started smoothly?

It picked up after Rowan admitted that he was divorced and that he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do. Aelin appreciated that stark honesty and admitted that she too had no idea what to do.

Since then, the conversation went well, the food was good and Aelin had even swiped a few bites of his dinner because it just looked so much better than hers. Rowan had playfully grumbled underneath his breath, but smiled as he said it.

It was going really well. Maybe the universe had decided to give her a break for the rest of this evening. There was a part of her that maybe wondered if they would have sex, because the man did look fucking fantastic, but at the same time, she didn't want to rush anything in case this actually turned into something more.

“What's the dumbest thing that you've done recently or in the past?” Aelin asked. There was no such thing as small talk between them—Aelin had all ready asked if he believed in aliens and was glad when he said yes, because “it's ridiculous to think that we're alone in this wide universe of ours. It makes sense that there'd be other lifeforms out there.” Which was pretty damned close to Aelin's reasoning as well, so asking him about stupid moments felt like nothing in comparison.

Rowan smirked at the question and took a moment to think before answering. “I engage in online arguments.”

“Really? About what, exactly?”

“It's stupid. But my all my arguments occur on Goodreads of all places. Not Facebook, or YouTube, or Twitter, but Goodreads. It's never anything insulting but just arguments about how wrong some people's in depth reviews are.”

“Fair enough,” Aelin said, “I've been known to do the same thing as you. There's this one user on there, White Tailed Hawk—a stupid name if you ask me—and he just never...” Aelin stopped when she noticed that he stopped eating and was just looking at her weirdly. “Rowan? Are you okay?”

“Do you, by any chance, go under the name of Queen of Wildfire?”

Aelin blinked, and then blinked again, and once the pieces fell into place, she knew right then and there that the universe really hated her. She let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing throughout the space. Aelin wasn't really sure what to say, because it was true what he said; it had never been insulting, but ending up on a date with the man she had regularly arguments with was just...she had no words, other then, “It really is a stupid name.” She took a sip of her wine, needing to do something other than wanting to bang her head against the table.

“I couldn't think of anything else to write.” And it wasn't also his favourite animal, he had told her that earlier.

They lapsed back into the awkward silence of earlier, both picking at their food.

But Aelin didn't want this night to go to waste. “It'd be stupid to let something as small as this get in the way of whatever this could be,” Aelin said, deciding to be blunt.

Rowan nodded. “It would be. Although I have to be honest, you really have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to Call of the Wild Winds.”

Aelin just about stormed off when she noticed his playful smile, his eyes sparkling bright. Laughing, Aelin threw a bread-roll at his handsome face, and once he caught it and split it in half for them to share, they went back to their earlier conversation.

And when Rowan walked her to her apartment door and kissed her on the cheek goodnight with a promise to text her later, Aelin couldn't help herself by telling him that all his opinions sucked and that he had no idea what he was talking about—all with a big smile on her face as Rowan sputtered as she closed the door on his face.

They spent the rest of the night texting, and all of Aelin's earlier woes faded away. And she looked forward to tomorrow, despite the horror of job hunting. Maybe the universe will finally let things turn around for the better for her.

Aelin went to sleep with a smile on her face, all because of White Tailed Hawk.

And on the other side of the city, Rowan also fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[aminiatureworld]

Time and Chance

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,028

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Confessions are tricky things. Sometimes it takes week, maybe months, maybe years of building up courage for one to happen. And sometimes life throws the oddest wrenches in our paths.

In which the reader confesses.

Author’s Note: I may or may not have decided to go full sappy this week, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you guys with my overbearing angst. Also I thought it was cute. Originally I wasn’t sure if I wanted the reader to be the one doing the confessing or whether it should be the character. I decided upon the reader on a whim essentially, with the idea that I could do the character later. We’ll see! The title today is reference to one of my favorite novels, written by Sharon Kay Penman. If anyone likes historical fiction I’d highly recommend it.

Today’s characters are Albedo, Childe, and Diluc. Tomorrow will be Kaeya, Xiao, and Zhongli. And maybe Keqing.

Like I said in my past post Happy Valentine’s Day! Although this time it’s Valentine’s Day proper.

Albedo

In your defense, who wouldn’t fall in love with Albedo?

The mysterious alchemist of Monstadt; sharp as a tack, insatiably curious, and blessed with an ethereal sort of beauty on top of it. Who wouldn’t fall in love with such a person?

And that was the problem. You’d sort of taken it for granted that everyone loved Albedo, and in that assumption you’d found a particularly distasteful discovery. That if everyone loved Albedo then you were hardly going to be the only one asking after his time. And, following that line of thought, you figured it’d be incredibly rude – not to mention supremely irritating for Albedo – for you to confess your feelings.

And it wasn’t as if you two were the closest in the world. Although you wouldn’t say you were total strangers either. You instead drifted in that odd in between; more than acquaintances, not quite friends. Or at least that’s how you interpreted it. Albedo didn’t seem to be the person with inclinations towards friendship in general, a not altogether untrue or wild assumption, so you remained content where you were, happy with the conversations you had, with the times he’d trust you with a piece of equipment or would explain to you in detail what he was working on. I mean, surely that was enough?

Absolutely not. Even in your state of perpetual irritation and fretting over your feelings, you knew that simply ignoring them was a ridiculous solution. When did that ever go well? Miscommunication was the relationship killer, no matter what type, and what could be more of a misunderstanding than this? You didn’t even know what he thought of you for Seven’s sake!

So you’d resolved yourself to telling him. Even if he’d be irritated surely he’d appreciate your honesty. And even if he didn’t you needed to tell him, for yourself if not for him.

It was with this in mind that you approached him one afternoon as he was working outside.

“Um, Albedo?” Your voice had taken on a slightly weak tone, as if you didn’t have enough air all of a sudden. It sounded weird, and you kind of wished you didn’t have to hear it. But that was par for the course when dealing something like this, although it didn’t make it any easier.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t notice you there.” Albedo turned around to look at you. You noticed that he’d swapped his regular tools for a paint set and an easel. Glancing at the painting you were struck by how he’d somehow managed to depict Cider Lake so accurately with so few brushstrokes. Never did you think about how the slight ripples that appeared in it could look a bit like circles. It was altogether impressive, and for a moment you forgot what you were doing, or perhaps you’d pushed it out of your mind.

“Was there something you wanted to ask?” Albedo’s voice pulled you out of your artistic musings. Evidently you weren’t going to be able to get out of it now. Come hell or high water, you were going to tell him.

“Well, so… you see, I… I really love you and your work!” The words came tumbling out, dropping like stones in the suddenly charged atmosphere. Almost immediately your nerves were replaced with a distinct sinking sense. “Uhm, rather. I mean –” you tried to begin again, but your voice had suddenly turned quite small, and you found yourself unable to continue.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Albedo’s voice was calm but not unkind, for a moment you felt your face grow warm. Was this actually going to happen? It’d be impressive considering how you’d botched it. “I’m so glad to hear there’s someone else interested in my work. I find that unfortunately a great many people take the world around them for granted. That you do not is commendable.”

You found you weren’t really sure what to say; admittedly the only thing going through your mind at the time was something along the lines of Holy shit. Holy shit I fucking blew it.

Okay, so maybe that was an absolute train wreck. Still, you’d gotten that far, and at this point you felt like it’d be harder to stop and deal with the memory of your botched pseudo-confession than to try again. So you steeled your courage and after a week or so you found yourself ready.

This time you tried for as he arrived at work. Originally you were going to wait for afterwards, but you found the anticipation was tearing you apart, and so decided for before. The anticipation, combined with your slight exhaustion, was nearly unbearable; and a not so small part of you kept telling yourself that this was a terrible idea, but you were too far gone.

“Fancy meeting you here at this time.” There was certainly surprise in Albedo’s voice, but he was smiling, and didn’t seem to mind at all when you stammered out that you wanted to ask him about something. He simply nodded, before unlocking his lab and gesturing for you to go in first.

You loved Albedo’s lab. Various pieces of equipment gleamed in the early morning light, everything properly labeled and put away; a stark contrast to the clutter of Albedo’s desk, filled with papers and the odd sample. The whole room was surprisingly nice in general, floors made of wood, painted over with a type of resin as to keep it from being properly damaged, multiple windows keeping the space surprisingly airy, and the smell of various herbs filling the air, though not so much as to be overpowering. You’d once mentioned to Albedo that the space seemed much to homey to be a proper lab. He’d merely laughed, replying that all homes should be comfortable, no matter how out of the ordinary.

Now you used said comfort and familiarity to ground yourself. This time you’d do it. This time for sure.

“So, um about my question?”

“Yes?” Albedo replied, dropping a few things on his desk. You took a breath, steadying yourself before pushing on ahead.

“Well… you know when I told you I liked you and your work?”

“Of course. I was very happy to hear it.” Albedo’s tone remained opaque, you had no idea how your words were registering.

“Well, you see, I wasn’t being completely clear. What I meant was more… well… well I like you, more than your work.” Seeing the look of confusion on his face you sped up slightly. “Not that I don’t like your work of course! It’s just, it’s just…” you were foundering again, feeling stupidly embarrassed. Becoming more and more frustrated with yourself you shook your head. “What I mean is I like you. Personally. And I like you a lot, more than just as acquaintances or as maybe friends. And I know that this is kind of out of the blue and kind of intrusive, and I’m sure there are a lot of people who like you. But I just wanted to tell you because, well I don’t know, just because.”

You took a deep breath, feeling as if you’d said altogether too many words. Glancing towards Albedo you saw a look of slight shock on his face. A feeling of dread was creeping up on you. Maybe it would’ve been better to say nothing.

“Well, I’m certainly flattered,” Albedo began, all your hopes beginning to sink. Urging yourself not to look away your nevertheless started picking at your fingernails, praying that at least the rejection would be over soon. “though I’m not really sure what you see in me. I’m hardly the ideal sort of person. And there certainly don’t seem to be many people who like me.” Albedo paused then; staring at him you found yourself in slight disbelief, sure that the sudden blush painting his cheeks was a figment of your imagination. “That being said, I cannot say that I don’t reciprocate your feelings. In truth I feel quite foolish now, only for assuming you were uninterested and refusing to try my hand at my own confession.”

“Really?” You didn’t mean for the tone of your voice to come out as so utterly disbelieving, but you couldn’t help yourself. Slightly light-headed you took a step forward, closing the space between you and the suddenly bashful alchemist in front of you. “You like me too?”

“Yes.” Albedo nodded slightly. “And, well, since you like me as well, might we…”

“Might we?”

“Might you do me the honor of becoming my partner?”

You found yourself giggling hysterically, half from the sudden release of nerves half from how ludicrous the situation had turned out to be. Seeing Albedo, looking for the first time uncertain and nervous, you stopped. Your face burst into a smile and you nodded.

“This is quite dramatic. But of course, of course I will.”

“I’m glad. But, might I say something?”

“Yes?”

“I wish you’d told me after work. If only because I’ll never be able to concentrate now.”

 Childe

If you had to describe your crush on Childe in one word it would be: idiotic. If you had to describe it in a sentence it’d be; incredibly irritating but also impossible to ignore.

You liked Childe, you liked him a lot. And you couldn’t blame yourself. Childe was the ideal sort of partner; charismatic, athletic, with eyes that could make your heart skip a beat and hair that was asking for you to run your hands through it. Childe was attentive too, full of words that would make anyone swoon a bit, and always ready to listen, agreeing with you on every point and reacting just as you wished.

But that was the problem. Childe was a façade, his personality had been honed to be as sharp and as deadly as a knife. Of course he was understanding and charismatic and a perfect person to hold a conversation with, what else could one expect of a member of the Fatui?

At first you’d desperately tried to ignore your feelings, as if they were somehow embarrassing. You felt vaguely guilty for carrying a flame for Childe, as if you’d managed to fall into a trap you’d seen a ways away. It was an unpleasant feeling to be sure, and you tried to bury it as much as possible, sure it’d go away.

But it didn’t go away, instead your feelings somehow seemed to become more and more stubborn, as if insisting on leading you down the path that many fools who interacted with the Fatui had fallen down before. Childe was at the forefront of your mind.

You noticed when he passed by you, shooting you a blinding smile which always turned into a self-confident sort of smirk, no doubt a result of your inevitable blush. You noticed the way he always seemed to ask after your interests, but never failed to avoid more personal topics that might make you uncomfortable. You noticed how he laughed at your odd half-jokes and the way that his hand brushed your once, causing you to withdraw your own as if burned, stammering out a “nothing” when he asked what was wrong.

But still you refused to tell him. Surely that was what he wanted, another person who could be called upon to give information to the Fatui, or perhaps assist in their dirty work. That wouldn’t be you, that would never be you.

It was snowing on your way home, blocking out the normal sounds and casting the world in an eerie sort of beauty. You wished that it wasn’t so late, cursing yourself for once more forgetting how early the sun set. It didn’t help that it was blindingly cold, and that you were dressed for weather that was at least ten degrees warmer. Hurrying along you were thinking about the meal that you were going to have, unaware of the slick patch of ice lying in front of you.

“Whoah, be careful!” You were yanked out of your thoughts with alarm. Glancing around you quickened your pace, shoes slipping immediately on the ice. However instead of a hard fall on the street you found a pair of arms wrapped under yours. Glancing up you found your face only centimeters away from Childe’s.

“Sorry for causing that.” Childe’s voice was clear as a bell, marking the contrast between the two of you in your mind. Lifting you up he chuckled slightly. “I should’ve realized that a random voice yelling at you would be alarming. Nothing bruised I hope?”

“N-no.” You managed, face burning. You’d never gotten this close to Childe before, not really, and the experience was going straight to your head, as if you’d suddenly gotten very, very drunk. Shaking your head you shifted your glanced towards the ground. “Thank you.” You managed, although your voice was soft enough to be inaudible. You were still trying to process what was happening. One question kept replaying itself in your mind, why had he called out, why had he noticed you?

“I’m glad!” Childe’s voice was a beautiful thing, and you found you couldn’t really think when listening to it. “I was a bit worried I wasn’t in time.”

“Yeah…” you replied. Suddenly the situation dawned on you completely, and you found yourself looking at him with no little suspicion. “Why do you pay so much attention to me?” You blurted out.

“What do you mean?” The expression on Childe’s face was one of perfect confusion, but you could tell that he’d been somehow caught. The tone of his voice was suddenly muddied, as if you were hearing his uncertainty for the first time. This gave you courage to press forward.

“I mean it. Why, why do I always see you? I mean, why do you even pay attention to me? I’m not the kind of person to forget who you are, the fact that you’re a member of the Fatui. I won’t be roped into your schemes, no matter how much I like you.” Shit. That last part was supposed to be only in your head. For a moment you weren’t sure if you hadn’t actually hit your head somehow.

Childe looked frozen, his expression blank, filled with disbelief as well as… bashfulness? If that’s what it was it certainly didn’t fit the normal vision of Childe, still you found yourself somehow compelled by it. This was a part of the real Childe.

“I… didn’t realize you’d notice. Now I feel found out!” He chuckled again, but this time it was distinctly nervous, and he turned to the side slightly. Suddenly he paused, and his eyes snapped towards yours. “Wait, rewind. You like me?”

“…Yeah.” I mean what were you supposed to say?

“I can’t believe this.” The widest grin spread across Childe’s face, and he started bouncing on his toes slightly, it was very cute you could give him that.

“You’re ignoring the rest of my words. Personal feelings or not I still hate the Fatui, and I still don’t know why you’d target me anyways.”

“It’s cause I like you, can’t you tell?” Childe’s words rammed into you, utterly unexpected; seeing you shake your head he once more closed the space between you two. “No, I mean it. I like you. I just can’t believe that you like me back.” He let out another huff of laughter. “I can’t believe I’m this lucky, I’ve never been this lucky. Well, I’m sorry that I came off like I was some Fatui creep, I promise my occupation doesn’t include systematic wooing of civilians.”

“How can I trust you?” You were trying to stand your ground, but in reality you’d already fallen. The situation was too much, and what little resistance you’d managed to hold on in the past weeks was tearing to shreds before your own eyes.

“Because I wouldn’t lie about this.” Childe was suddenly still, his expression deadly serious. “I promise I wouldn’t lie about something like this. The fact is I like you, I like you a lot. I know my job is… unconventional to say the least; I also know that it’s entirely fair if you don’t want to associate with me because of it. But at least trust in my feelings being real, okay?”

What could you do? You nodded, a short “I trust you” falling from your lips. The feeling of happiness was surprisingly sedate, mixed with nerves, yet also somehow filled with contentment. It felt so good, it felt so good just to let go and accept what had happened. You liked Childe, you liked him so much, and he like you too. What more was there to say?

“May I ask you something?” Childe asked, voice slightly husky. Your faces were once more barely apart, and you found that you could stay like this for ages and ages.

“Yes?”

“May I hold your hand?”

You let out a laugh, smiling brightly as you slid your hand into his.

 Diluc

You weren’t even sure how this one happened.

It wasn’t that Diluc wasn’t the perfect kind of guy, I mean if he wasn’t you probably wouldn’t be falling madly into one sided love with him. It was just that you two didn’t actually have much of a chance to interact with one another, what with him being the manager and part time bartender of a surprisingly vast winery, and with you being an adventurer and someone not likely to get plastered any time soon.

But the few times that you had interacted with him, usually something to do with guarding the alcohol he was exporting, had been enough to cement an intense infatuation in your mind. There was just something about him; whether it was his voice, his polite yet intense form of speech; his mannerisms, always perfectly on time with what he needed, something which helped you and the Guild immensely; or his general charm, okay look he had great hair; you’d simply gone mad for him.

And mad indeed you were. Though you weren’t about to become a stalker – besides being incredibly creepy on principle since when did that land a person in anything but jail – you’d taken to trying to find out a least a little more about him. Because if you were going to be infatuated with someone it should at least be for more than his organizational skills and the fact his hair would look great in a high ponytail.

And what you’d found out only built upon your crush. The fact that he found the Knights of Favonius lacking, though perhaps a bit unconventional, was ultimately reasonable, or at least justifiable. You liked also that he refrained from drinking, and not just because the idea of ending the night sick in the bathroom was something that haunted you a bit. The more you learned the more you wished that you were in a situation where your feelings could be reciprocated, or at least where you could become friends of some degree. Really you just wanted him to notice your existence, sure he could pick you out in the endless sea of adventurers.

So you planned on introducing yourself at some point, at least as his almost designated wine protector. The only problem was when. Diluc seemed to be busier and busier these days, and when he was around he seemed muted, as if he was carrying something. You couldn’t bring yourself to add to his burden your own baggage. So you said nothing, and as your crush grew so did your dejection.

It was a lovely summer evening and, seeing as your apartment had becoming stifling in the daytime, you’d taken a walk, snaking through the streets of Monstadt before exiting via the back gate, glad to see there were no guards around. Walking down towards the banks of the lake you slipped off your shoes and dipped your feet into the water. Letting out a sigh you sat down and tilted your head back, enjoying the slightly breeze on your face, trying to take your mind off of the past months of agony. The world faded into background noise, and you found yourself in a state of pseudo peace, glad to have it, if only for a moment.

“Watch out!” A familiar voice broke through your reverie. Turning your head towards the source of your disruption you saw a masked figure as well as a cryo abyss mage. The mage, having correctly decided you were going to be easier to deal with than the actively armed person, suddenly appeared right in front of you. Acting on instinct you pushed your hand in front of you, letting electricity bloom from your fingertips.

As the abyss mage lay stunned your felt an arm wrap around your waist, dragging you a ways away. “Wait here.” The person carrying you said, before running back to fight. Finally getting a good look at your savior it was all you could do not to gasp. Despite being the cold hard truth you still found it hard to believe, and for a second you wondered if you hadn’t passed out somewhere and were having a particularly fantastic dream.

Finally the fighting was over, lifting yourself up you jogged over to the man who could only be the Darknight Hero.

“Master Diluc?” The words flew out of your mouth.

“Just Diluc please.” Diluc shook his head. “Forgive me for being a bit rough. Cryo abyss mages and electro users rarely work well together.”

“It’s perfectly fine!” You replied eagerly. “Really, thank you!”

Diluc offered a smile in reply, one that immediately made your heart seize up. Suddenly you remembered who the person in front of you was. Seized at first with something akin to embarrassment you also came to a sudden realization. This might be the only chance.

“Diluc?”

“Yes?”

“Well, can I say something?”

“Of course you may.” Diluc relaxed his stance, leaning slightly forward. Your face was burning, you really weren’t expecting something like this to happen, but it was now or never.

“I realize this will be quite sudden, but I… I like you.” You felt the urge to add on something, some explanation or apology, but unfortunately, or perhaps thankfully, you found you couldn’t say anything more. Running your fingers through your hair you lowered your head slightly, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

“Can I say something?” Diluc’s voice was gentle, and you couldn’t help but look up at him. Though you wouldn’t say his stance had changed very much, he somehow seemed more relaxed, something you weren’t expecting.

“Of course! I realize what I said must really be a shock, I’m really sorry.” You let out a pathetic sort of laugh.

“Don’t be sorry. I realize what I’m about to say must be equally as shocking. But, the fact of the matter is I like you as well.”

“I didn’t realize you knew I existed!” You replied, still not ready to drop your defense mechanisms. Diluc stared at you, a perplexed expression on his face.

“I’m quite surprised by that, I thought that my request for you to be the guild member in charge of the Winery would’ve been an indicator. Forgive me, I didn’t realize that you were unaware.”

“I thought that was a decision by the Guild to make things easier.” You admitted. “Although I guess I just didn’t want to admit that you might be aware of my existence.”

“Why?”

“Because that would’ve been scary! I mean, what if you didn’t like me, not in that way, just… in general.”

“Well I like you a lot.” Diluc’s voice was soft and warm.

“I like you two.” You replied, voice barely above a whisper.

As he escorted you back to your home the two of you spoke about a myriad of things, some important and some quite mundane. You found that having your feeling reciprocated had truly opened up something in you. Suddenly everything seemed so much realer, made manifest by Diluc’s presence. You couldn’t believe it really. What had failed with months of planning had succeeded in a matter of moments.

And all because of an unsuspecting abyss mage.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Would you guys have any sterek recs with full-shit Derek? Especially any that involve wolf cuddles with Stiles

Yeah!

Where The Wild Things Are by DeadWalker

(4/4 I 30,409 I Teen)

Derek finds a boy in the woods. He might not have realized it then, but that is the moment his whole life changes.

Fucked Up Like You by damnfancyscotch

(2/2 I 37,702 I Teen)

The boy was dirty. Very dirty. Most likely from the trap he’d been found in, the leg snare Derek figured, even though Peter hadn’t mentioned what type of trap it was. Mud dried and flaked off in patches on his left forearm, caked into the front of his sleeveless rough-hewn tunic and threadbare pants, up from his bare feet all the way to his knees, a dark streak painting the right side of his neck and continuing up into his clumsily cut brown hair - clearly he’d done it himself with a knife and perhaps no reflective surface, though judging by his appearance, a pond or puddle could have done just fine for him. Derek realized a lot of the spots he assumed to be mud were actually moles that dotted all along the boy’s skin.

Derek watched as the boy studied him back in silence, sitting with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He stared hard at the crescent-shaped insignia picked out in silver and green sewn onto the dark gray fabric over Derek’s heart, a slight frown wrinkling his brow. The boy had to know about the Hales if he was part of the Argent pack.

“What’s your name?”

“St… Stiles.”

Point me where my life begins by Gotta_seduce_the_Rainbow

(4/4 I 39,430 I Explicit)

When Derek wakes up without his memory, he is left with nothing but a note he wrote himself. He no longer remembers anything personal, not himself, not anyone else.

The note is pointing him towards the town Beacon Hills and once he is there, he is greeted by strangers telling him “Dude, I didn’t know you’re back in town”, which is confusing. Apparently, he grew up in Beacon Hills, but left a few years ago without telling anyone about it.

There is this one stranger, who calls him dude and has the most amazing scent. Derek might just want to start his new life here. With this person.

The New Normal by midnightcas

(27/27 I 63,392 I Teen)

After Stiles gets hurt...again, Derek puts him on the metaphorical supernatural bench. Meanwhile, Stiles tries to have a normal life and make normal friends. But when a new pack comes to town and the Hales start getting threats, things start to get a little....not normal.

Just the Same by ericaismeg

(7/7 I 68,066 I General)

Something is seriously up with the captain of the lacrosse team. There's just no way Derek Hale is human. *** “I was wondering if you're even human. You move so quickly. I mean, it's ridiculously fast. No human should be able to move that fast, y'know? It's unfair for us. I mean, it's obvious you work out, and I don't, so that could be why, but like...I was just wondering if you were human, that's all.”

“Stop talking, Stilinski, or I'll—”

“Put me on the bench all season?” Stiles asks knowing full well that Derek Hale can't threaten him with shit.

Extraordinary by HyperLittleNori (Shiguresan)

(8/8 I 109,942 I Explicit)

An awkward encounter with a man of few words in the laundry room of Stiles's building sparks a chain of events that will change the way he sees the world forever. A little story about finding a place for oneself and someone to share that place with.

[p-artsypants]

P-Artsypants Fic Masterpost!

This information is always available on my blog. 

Find most, if not more, of these fics on:

Fanfiction.net | Archive of Our Own | Wattpad

(~AU’s, *Finished, ❤️Author’s Favorites)

Kingdom Hearts

~❤️Rage Awakened AO3 | FF.net- Ten years ago, Terra, Aqua, and Ventus lost their fellow apprentice, Sora, in Deep Jungle. Now, they are to return with two new students, Riku and Kairi, to lock the heart of the world. All the while, something watches from the trees. Feral!Sora AU

My Kingdom for a Heart AO3 | FF.Net - The curse of being one of the Princesses of heart, is that there’s always someone out to get you. As Xemnas looked failure in the face, he reached out in a last ditch effort and destroyed Kairi’s heart. Now her friends must travel the worlds again. Sora, to find a way to recover Kairi’s heart, and Riku, to make amends to those he has wronged. All the while, the darkness grows. [Unfinished, on permanent hiatus]

Miraculous Ladybug

One Shots

*❤️Amalgam- When an young man is rejected for being ‘incompatible’ he turns into the akuma ‘Amalgam’ able to fuse two people together. And later Adrien and Marinette would debate if it was lucky or unlucky that they got hit. (Also Available in Russian)

*Sing We All Noel- After receiving the worst Christmas present ever from his father, Chat Noir finds himself out on the streets with nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. Thankfully, Ladybug finds him and brings him home.

*Speechless- In a world where everyone has a soulmark, the first words their soulmate will say to them, Marinette is born without one. But Adrien Agreste has two. Curious, considering he’s mute.

*❤️Tunnels of Love- The night started out with an accidental kiss from Adrien Agreste, and ended with her bleeding in the Catacombs of Paris. Ladybug, the wielder of the miraculous of good luck. Yeah right. (Some blood)

*The Reveal That Wasn’t- First Parts My ending to kittybug’s Tumblr Prompt

*What A Mess We’re In- Ladybug has a lot on her mind, and when Chat Noir bugs her enough, she tells him she’s going to confess to her Crush, Adrien Agreste. Chat’s reaction is not what she’s expecting.

*Oblivi-oh no! - A retelling of Oblivio, except Ladybug is the only one to lose her memory. How will Chat deal?

*Bad Day (3 chapters) - Marinette was Ladybug! This was Adrien’s luckiest day ever! Except it wasn’t, because all his good luck was used up in one go. Turns out this might be the worst day of his life.

*One Win, So Many Losses- Marinette was forced to break up with Adrien. It had been a low blow from Gabriel, to be sure. But she was Ladybug. She’d find a solution…right? An alternate ending to Chat Blanc, where Adrien doesn’t Cataclysm the akuma.

*❤️Five Minutes- Gabriel has had enough of all these girls fighting over Adrien. He decides it’s high time Adrien picks one, and arranges the perfect opportunity for him to do so. Each candidate has five minutes to present why they’d be a good girlfriend. Marinette decides to take this opportunity to shoot her shot.

~*Panache- Every eligible maiden was invited to the Prince’s ball. That included Marinette, scullery maid in her own household. But her stepsisters destroyed her dress, and she can’t go to the ball in rags. Or can she? (Cinderella!AU)

*Perfect, No Matter What-In which Gabriel sets the bar even lower for himself, a reveal happens because of pain medication, and the new guardian actually goes to Chloé for advice.

*Crushed- Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.

*Lovelace- Convinced that he's unlovable, Adrien is quickly thrown for a loop when Marinette confesses her love for him out of the blue. An akumatization and reveal later, he changes his mind about being unlovable.

Long Fics

*❤️Longest Night- (FF.net | Ao3) - The day started out sucky to begin with. Her crush ousted to the class and Adrien. Lila taking pride in exacting her revenge. But by the time patrol was over, a young man was dead, and Ladybug’s identity was at risk. Lila was the least of her concerns. Good thing Adrien was taking it all like a champ. (Rated M for scenes of torture)

*❤️Nine Lives- (FF.net) When Adrien Agreste is scheduled to go to a Military School in Germany, Chat Noir must make a critical decision. Does he give up his Miraculous? Or does he give up his life as Adrien? I’ll save you the trouble of guessing, he gives up being Adrien.

*Tender Words- When Marinette finally gets the guts to confess her feelings for Adrien, some things go so wrong, and other things go so right.

*Integrity- Overwhelmed with her responsibilities, guilt, and drama, Marinette has an emotional breakdown in front of everyone, and even hands over her earrings in a moment of weakness. Only for a few seconds, but the damage was done. Adrien’s pretty quick on the uptake like that.

~Much Obliged- Everyone deals with grief differently. Some take to drinking, others devote themselves to charity. Adrien Agreste? Well, he became a cowboy. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a witch, one of very few in the world. She knows what it’s like to be doubted, and assumed delusional. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. Or maybe it’s just because they both like big hats. AU where everything is the same, except instead of superheroes, Adrien is a Cowboy and Marinette is a witch. (Unfinished) (Based on a AU by @bugaboo-n-bananoir)

*I’ll Handle This- “I’ll solve all your problems,” Plagg had said. “You just have to agree to it.” A fixed relationship with his father, Lila to stop bothering him, and Ladybug to fall in love with him? Who wouldn’t agree to that? Except Plagg was the God of Destruction and Chaos and had a more…hands-on approach. Adrien just wants his body back. (Body swap fic)

The Ghost of Smokey Joe- Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

How To Train Your Dragon

One Shots

The Vikings Have Their Tea (FF.Net | AO3)

Arranged Marriage- Takes place at the beginning of HTTYD

❤️Breathe- Survival of the fittest

~Childhood Friends- At the Sandbox

❤️Easy Fix- In which Hiccup has a bad day

~Fashion Designer- Astrid needs a fill in

❤️Frozen- In Which Astrid takes a Dip and things get frisky (Rated M)

❤️Headache- In Which Hiccup hits his head….really hard

❤️Heir- In Which Hiccup is Picked (Longer version by FateCharms)

Illness- In Which Stoick is a dad

~Illusionist- Trick gone wrong

~In the Walls- In which there’s a poop ghost

~Knocking On The Wrong Door (2) - A chance encounter

❤️Messages- Astrid is Frustrated with Hiccup’s obliviousness

~To Mirkwood- Hiccup is not a dwarf

~Monster Falls- Hiccup and Astrid take a dip

❤️Mute- In which there’s a quiet stranger

~Music Video (ImgHS)- He didn’t expect it

❤️Operation: Lovebirds- In Which the gang makes a plan, and Hiccup gets Drunk

~Over- Too many nightmares

~Partners in Crime- A normal day at work

~Pirate- Astrid is the greatest treasure

~Prince- He doesn’t want to be a broken King

❤️Sorting Things Out- In Which Astrid gets her ducks in a row

~The Dragon and The Dame- Beauty and the Beast Au

The Pit- In Which Hiccup is rescued

Hide and Seek- Part 1

Lost and Found- Part 2

Long fics:

*❤️Infernal Responsibility- Being the son of the chief takes brains, courage, and a lot of patience. But at his father’s the request for marriage, Hiccup decides he has had enough. When he seeks out a life of ease, he runs into more than what he bargained for.

*❤️Roses and Lilies- “Astrid, you and I both know you’re much tougher than I am. You’re more brave, and a better fighter…but just for a little while…could we pretend that I’m the one protecting you?” “Oh gods yes!” (Also Available in Spanish!)

*~What the Water Gave Me- The sea is a wild and dangerous thing, something that cannot be foretold or predicted. Hiccup discovered this many years ago, in human naiveté. Yet, what was meant as a sacrifice became a new life, one like no one could comprehend. He now finds himself once more in the unknowing hands of those that sentenced him to death. He only prays things will be different this time. Merman!AU

*Parasite- Soulsnatcher Dragons are rare but deadly. But, As Hiccup finds out, it’s the eggs you have to watch out for.

*~320 State Street- Gobber’s Goods. A Hardware Store that was rumored to have everything you needed. She thought she only needed a job. Turns out, she needed a lot more than that. (A Modern AU no one asked for)

*~❤️The North Tower- When Finn Hofferson died, Astrid inherited his castle in Wales…and a whole lot more. Something sinister lurks in the North Tower.

*~❤️Boy Toy- AO3 - At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is nowhere to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It’s safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?)

No, You Go First- AO3 - The Chief of Berk was a headstrong viking, stubborn and full of pride, and willing to do whatever it takes to keep his village safe. But for a moment, he puts that aside, and listens to his son. In which Hiccup convinces his dad not to make him go through Dragon Training, and the subsequent changes that follow.

*In Due Time- AO3 - As another illness sweeps through Berk, Gothi needs another ingredient for her medicine…one that doesn’t exist anymore. Fortunately, she kept that old spell book around for such an occasion. Big Hiccup is sent to five years into the past, and his younger self sent to take his place in the future. But it’s only a few days, what could go wrong?

Trollhunters: Tales from Arcadia

❤️Arcadia or Bust- In Which Arcadia welcomes back it’s underground citizens.

Teen Titans

Oneshots:

~Big Brother- Don’t turn out the light (Horror)

Dear Jason- Bruce Writes a letter

Just Drawing- Bruce thinks about Robin

The Prisoner- Starfire is Guilty

Of Mustard and Three Foot Purple Tongues- A collection of Oneshots and Drabbles

Long Fics (*Finished):

*~❤️Carol of the Bells- High in the dark Bell Tower of Notre Dame, there lives a mysterious bell ringer. Legend tells of the angel who fell from the sky, and the curse she bares. There are few who know her true identity though; her master, the priest, and the acrobat that performs on the streets below. Based loosely on ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ RobxStar and slight BBxRae

*No Escape- Three years ago, Starfire escaped an Alien race called the Gordanians, to arrive on Earth. They’re back, and ready to put Starfire back where she belongs, behind reinforced Titanium bars. Robin’s not about to let her go…if only he hadn’t got captured first. How does it feel to be the alien, Robin?

*Now you Know My Pain- When the new Villain, Gender Bender, comes to down, the Titans find themselves in an odd situation. They’ve been turned into the opposite gender against their will! Now in order to change back, they must learn to understand the gender they’ve turned into. Rated T for obvious reasons. A great read if you’ve ever wondered why girls or guys do [blank].

*Paint it Black- Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City’s crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a relation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? Actually, contains NO OC.

*Saving Grace- “When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk upright or speak coherent sentences and all you’ll see is my mask and my voice repeating in your head…Weak. Richard Grayson, I am not tough, I am everything that you fear.” Happy Ending! Smudge of RobStar. NO Slash!

Other Fandoms

Final Fantasy XV

❤️Requiem for Pitioss-“O King. The god’s have heard your cries. Know that we weep with you. The Oracle’s calling has not yet been fulfilled. But…Lunafreya as you know her cannot return the way she was.” Noctis looked up, hopeful. “But she can return!” Canon divergence from Chapter 9. Happy ending. Some spoilers.

Final Fantasy X

I Do…I Guess? - “I would…like to ask you something.” “Shoot.” “Well…if it’s not too much…I’d like to ask you…to marry me.” Knowing what’s to come during her pilgrimage, Yuna asks Tidus to marry her, strictly for convenience and having an official next of kin, of course. Starts after Luca and how this decision would affect the rest of the story.

Beauty and the Beast

*❤️Behold the Beast- A Oneshot alternate ending to the Animated Film

Cinderella

*❤️Midnight- “When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will be broken,” the fairy godmother had warned. A retelling of the story, when Cinderella doesn’t escape the ball in time. Oneshot

*So This is Love- What if Jaq and Gus hadn’t made it in time to help Cinderella? A new twist on the ending of the classic Fairytale, and what lies beyond the story. She still gets her happy ending and her Prince, and her step family gets their just deserts.

Sleeping Beauty

*❤️A Love Song Back To Me- Maleficent saw the loophole that stared her in the face. Prince Phillip would break the curse in time, for sure. After all, he was betrothed to Aurora. So in an effort for her evil plan to stay in action, Maleficent takes care of the young prince herself. Phillip never imagined having to live off the land like the birds above. Alternate twist on the classic Disney tale.

Escaflowne

Down Feathers- Hitomi’s depressed. She’s been away from Van too long, he comes back to visit her…but what if something went wrong with the transfer? (Not finished. Never will be finished. Mwahaha) Circa 2012

*Angel’s Wounds- Fanelia’s been victorious in their most recent battle with Basrum. Unfortunately, someone is wounded and just seeks solace in his love that lives so far away. Post Anime.

Momma Look Sharp- With the war between Fanelia and Basrum finally coming to a close, the kingdom is celebrating. The young king, however, is suffering from an experience unlike any he had before. Van finally seeks solace in his wife.

[thewitchandtheassassin]

That World (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Part two of “Alone With You” happy ending style.

Words: 3171

Warnings: Uh, alcohol, language and some angst? Lemme know if I missed something.

A/N: Holy shit. One hundred percent wasn’t expecting a longer fic to be my coming back fic but this thing had a mind of its own. And, I just really want to thank y’all for sticking around. It means so much and I’m happy to say I think I’ll be staying for a while this time. But either way, WE GOT A NEW STORY HOLY FUCK!

-X-

She knew she shouldn’t have walked out. She knew it wasn’t what she’d wanted, but the words had gotten stuck in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to let them slide off her tongue. So, instead, she’d taken the coward’s way out and left.

Left you broken just beyond the door closing behind her.

You’d never just been a way to pass time. Well, maybe in the beginning it had started out like that, but after the third time you’d let her in, something warm started creeping into her chest. You’d always assumed multiple people kept her company but the truth was…

There was only you.

She hadn’t meant to keep you in the dark – to make you feel the way you did – but she’d wanted to protect you (or maybe she was protecting herself. Those lines were a little blurred, if she was being honest with herself). She thought letting the distance hold you apart would keep you both safe but all it seemed to do was break hearts.

-X-

Hours became days and before Natasha realized it, it’d been a month since she’d heard you, seen you. She’d ignored it at first – the longing gripping her chest – but it was becoming overwhelming. She was reckless and withdrawn (more than normal). She was snappy and irritable and the team was worried.

“Nat, seriously, what’s going on?” Clint asked, flopping down beside Natasha on the couch in the common room.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha jerked to another page in her book, eyes scanning but not seeing the words printed. “Nothing.”

He reached out, grabbing her wrist calmly. “That’s a lie and we both know it. Talk to me.”

Natasha swallowed drily, fingers flexing around the book in her hands. Her tongue felt like it weighed a million pounds inside her mouth, threatening to suffocate her if she dare speak. A familiar pain traveled through her, the icy memory of the Red Room’s punishments creeping up her veins and pooling in her stomach.

Clint was startled to see tears filling Natasha’s eyes and he ripped the book from her, tossing it aside and gathering her in his arms. One hand stroked her hair while the other kept her close, murmuring soft reassurances to her.

“I fucked up,” Natasha hiccupped. “I-I should’ve stayed. I should’ve told her…”

His brows furrowed but Clint remained silent, waiting for his oldest friend to continue.

“All she wanted was for me to stay and I didn’t,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

Something dawned on Clint. “Is she who you used to go see after missions?” he inquired carefully, ignoring the tension that seemed to stiffen her muscles.

“…yes.”

Nodding, Clint leaned back and brushed a lock of hair from Natasha’s face. “If you’re this upset, you need to go to her. Tell her you regret leaving that night – that you regret leaving her. Wallowing isn’t doing anyone any good,” he advised, smiling sympathetically.

“I’m afraid she won’t forgive me,” she admitted brokenly. “I never told her anything. Not about missions or my life or anything. I kept her so far in the dark that I don’t know how to bring her into the light now.”

“You’ll never know until you talk to her,” Clint said. “If you care about her this much, you need to talk to her. Otherwise it’ll be entirely your own fault that you lost her.” He knew his words were harsh, but she needed to hear them. If he tried sugarcoating it, she’d never leave the couch.

Natasha’s face scrunched as she forced back tears. He was right. As much as she wished he wasn’t, he absolutely was.

“Okay,” she breathed, determination befalling her features. “Okay.”

Clint smiled, patting her shoulder as he stood. “C’mon. I’ll drive.”

-X-

The drive to your apartment was silent aside from the incessant tapping of Natasha’s fingers on her thigh. She was trying to prepare her speech, like she was readying for battle, but she knew the moment she looked into your eyes it’d be useless. This wasn’t something she could sweep under the rug with a seductive look or a sensual kiss. She had to actually talk.

She was going to throw up.

Sudden terror gripped her as they stopped in front of the building. “I can’t do this.”

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, you can. Go talk to her. I’ll wait here until you say otherwise.”

Bottom lip snagged between her teeth, Natasha inhaled sharply and tossed open the car door before storming inside and up to your floor. With every step her heart thudded a little harder, but she ventured on, blinking sporadically to keep the tears at bay. Fist balled tight, she knocked twice behind rocking on her heels.

Silence.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Natasha’s head tilted. Only stillness greeted her as she stared at the door mocking her. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side, which was bizarre considering your floor creaked just at the entrance.

Her eyebrows nearly touched as she tentatively reached forward and knocked again. It was well past nine at night, so where the hell were you? A nasty thought crossed her thoughts and she faltered. What if you’d already moved on? What if you were on a date? What if they were in there?

The old woman who lived next door peered out of her apartment and stared at her. She could see the emotions warring on the beautiful woman’s face.

“Excuse me, miss,” the woman called, garnering Natasha’s attention. “She’s not there.”

Natasha’s head snapped around. “O-oh. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

The woman’s pursed lips concerned Natasha. “I don’t think you understand, sweetie. She doesn’t live here anymore. Moved out about two weeks ago.”

All the blood drained from Natasha’s face and her lips parted slightly, a deeper concern blossoming in her stomach.

“None of us know where she went either,” she admitted. “We just saw her leave one day and the next, the landlord was trying to find new renters. It’s a shame too. She was lovely. Always helped me with my groceries.”

“She’s…gone?” Natasha repeated slowly, glancing at your door like she expected you to throw it open and laugh at your elaborate joke. This was just a joke…right?

Smiling sadly at Natasha, the old woman studied her. As a former nurse, she’d seen many people walk into her hospital with a similar expression; regret and devastation marring their features, waiting for someone to yell “surprise” or hoping to wake up from a bad dream.

She silently prayed this woman would someday find you and right whatever wrong caused that look; she’d always hated that look.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she mumbled before closing her door, the quiet click sounding like a thunderous boom in Natasha’s ears.

The urge to slump to her knees was crippling but Natasha forced herself upright and staggered out of your (former) building, dragging herself towards Clint’s car. Her fingers felt numb as she gripped the handle, dropping into the passenger seat. She said nothing and he didn’t push.

You were gone.

-X-

Traveling the country had never been something you’d really considered before. You liked having a steady home, steady relationships – a steady life. But two weeks after Natasha walked out of your door, you decided to throw caution to the wind and try it. You had more than enough money to survive for a while so you tossed your bigger items into the storage and began a trek across the country, headed west.

Was it irresponsible to quit your job and break your lease all because a woman didn’t love you? Probably, but you didn’t care. You needed something new; something wild that could help mend the shattered shards of your heart.

So you found yourself in a little town in Ohio two weeks into your trip, a cheap beer in hand as you looked around the bar. You weren’t trying to catch anyone’s eye, merely curious of your surroundings. Plenty of people were scattered about, filling the air with small-town liveliness.

A feminine hand caught your attention out of your peripheral and you discretely glanced over. Long digits traced across the edge of the wood.

“I might be mistaken but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around here before.” Her voice was like a warm breeze in the middle of September and you couldn’t stop yourself from gazing at her.

She was pretty, relatively speaking, though she didn’t hold a candle to the woman who’d prompted this trip. But she might be pretty enough to help you forget.

“You’re not wrong,” you smirked, sipping your beer as you watched her eyes flicker to your lips.

She offered her hand, skin smooth and gentle against yours. “I’m Lucy.”

“(Y/N),” you replied, letting your fingers brush the palm of her hand as you let go.

Hopping onto the stool beside you, she raised a finger and the bartender handed her a drink. You weren’t sure if he’d been simply waiting for the gesture or if it was just a lucky coincidence but you weren’t going to question it. You were a stranger, what did you know?

“So, what brings you here?” Lucy asked, raising her glass to glossed lips.

You shrugged. It’d sound pathetic to admit all of this started because of a woman, right? An Avenger but still…

“Road trip,” you hummed, eyes drifting through the crowd again.

Lucy chuckled, smirking at you over the rim of her drink. “I’ve heard a lot of people say that but that’s never the full story, is it?”

Your gaze jerked back to her and her smirk deepened.

“Boyfriend troubles – or girlfriend?” she wondered, her glass thumping on the bar as she set it down.

Sighing, you acknowledged her probing with a humorless laugh. “Technically? Neither. She was never my girlfriend.”

Lucy’s brow arched, curiosity brimming in green eyes. “Oh?”

You downed your beer. “Yeah…” you didn’t exactly want to offer information but the need to vent was pulsating into your bones. No one knew the story; hell, no one had even known you had an occasional bed partner. “I had feelings for her but she walked out and never came back, so I decided a trip across the country wasn’t such a bad idea.”

Lucy gave an apologetic hiss and patted your arm. “Ouch.”

“But,” the corner of your mouth tugged up, “I’m sure some good company would help take the sting out a little.”

-X-

Finding out you had left was a blow Natasha hadn’t anticipated. She’d considered calling you from Clint’s car but the idea you had blocked her number gave her pause. You’d left for a reason, so she should honor that…

And she did try.

But, as another week drifted into two, she was crumbling inside. She’d spent many years trying to correct all the mistakes she’d made over in her youth but now she had no idea how to fix this one. You’d never been hers – though through no fault of your own – but it felt like you’d taken a chunk of her heart wherever you had gone.

In the end, it wasn’t even her who found you.

Tony Stark was many things: arrogant, a billionaire playboy, but not stupid. He’d seen Natasha losing herself and, while he might butt heads with her often, he hated the misery that lingered on the outskirts of green. So, as any friend would do, he stole her phone.

Your number was easy to find since it was the only “civilian” number on there, aside from Laura Barton. Natasha was nothing if not minimalistic.

Minutes later, he pinged your phone and had FRIDAY tracking it.

“Boss, what should I do with this information?” the AI wondered, curious – well, as curious as an AI could be.

“Send it to Agent Romanoff and tell her I better be her best man at the wedding,” Tony replied coolly, wandering off to go bug Pepper before Natasha could come skin him alive.

When FRIDAY alerted her of Tony’s meddling, she did consider hurting him for less than a second before she was racing out of the Compound and towards a jet. Yes, flying a million dollar get to win back her not-ex’s heart was dramatic but she was an Avenger.

And Avengers were good at dramatics.

-X-

You hadn’t left that little Ohio town yet, which honestly surprised you. After spending a night drinking with Lucy, you’d followed her home…

And slept on her couch.

She’d been wonderful to talk to – and you’d been right about the company – but sleeping with her had never been an option. You weren’t going to use someone like that, even if she was a stranger. But, she’d offered her couch and nearly two weeks later, you were still there. She’d argued with you about finding a motel, telling you she liked having someone to fill the silence of her little apartment.

So you stayed.

Right now, you were tucked in a little coffee shop, a mug in front of you as you waited for Lucy. She was off getting things ready for her upcoming art gallery in town so you’d been left to your own devices (which was fine). You were absently flicking through your social medias, listening to the locals discuss a plane that had touched down outside of town. You weren’t really paying any attention to it but the silence that enveloped the shop as the door opened certainly caught your notice.

You peeked over your shoulder, eyes widening as a disheveled – but still unnaturally beautiful – Natasha strolled over. She looked dress for war, but the uncertainty in her eyes left you frozen. In all the months you’d known her, she’d never looked so scared before. Like you were a wild cat that would either spring at her or dash away if she got too close.

“Hi,” she greeted, voice raspy and alluring.

You gaped, your throat suddenly so dry that it burned. You could tell your silence hurt Natasha but your lack of running away helped lessen the fear swirling inside her stomach. She cautiously grabbed the chair across from yours and dragged it closer, though she kept a respectable distance between you.

“W-why…how…um, huh?” you sputtered, trying to gather your thoughts. You had so many questions that wanted out and no idea how to ask them.

“You left New York,” she stated plainly, as if that explained everything – which, it did not.

“Yes?” you replied, though it definitely sounded like a question at that point.

Natasha cleared her throat, green dancing between your mug and the floor. “I was a coward,” she muttered, “The night you said you couldn’t do what we were doing anymore. I wanted to stay, but I was scared. Scared of what happens if I let you get too close; scared you wouldn’t like the real me. So, I left. But when I came to talk, you were gone.”

Her gaze almost felt accusing but you both knew she wasn’t angry with you.

“I –” you stopped yourself from apologizing. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You were the wounded party.

But looking at her, you wondered if maybe you weren’t the only one hurting.

“I shouldn’t have left,” she continued, lip trapped between perfect teeth. “I should’ve stayed when you asked and I’m sorry I didn’t. I should’ve told you I wanted more too. I should’ve given you everything instead of taking it. You were never just fun for me – and I wish I’d told you that sooner.”

“Nat,” you exhaled, watching her shoulders slump. “I wish you had too.”

She nodded, her hair obscuring your view, hiding that face you loved so much. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but can we try again? Try to have something real this time? I can’t promise I’ll be perfect but I really want to give us a shot. Because losing you? It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt.”

Your tongue was lead in your mouth, pressing it to your teeth. Thoughts swam through your mind at millions of miles per second and you wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. The air felt ten degrees hotter and you were fairly certain everyone was looking at you but you didn’t dare look away for even a millisecond.

“Hey, everything okay?” Lucy.

You didn’t even know she had arrived and suddenly the world felt like it was tipping on its axis. Natasha’s hair fluttered as her head snapped to the new arrival and you could see her heart turning to dust as she assumed the worst. Lucy’s eyes were on you but yours never left Natasha.

She didn’t say a word, merely kicking out of the chair and rushing from the shop, leaving you stunned. Another flurry of emotions and thoughts erupted in your brain but you knew one thing: you had find her.

You couldn’t lose her again.

Bolting off your chair, you lurched out of the shop and glanced about frantically. A glimpse of her black outfit was the only sign she’d ever existed in this little town and you surged after her, pushing your muscles in a way you hadn’t since you were forced to run a mile in gym.

You weren’t going to let her leave you again. If she left, there wasn’t going to be a third chance – and you knew it.

Catching her arm just outside of the trees that you assumed lead to her jet, you dragged her to a halt, breath escaping you in pants as you stared at the back of her head. This felt like something out of a stupid romantic comedy but that wasn’t your biggest concern.

“Natasha,” you started, though she hurriedly cut you off.

“It’s okay,” she sniffed, clearly fighting off her sorrow. “I get it. You don’t have to explain.” She was silently begging you not to. She couldn’t handle it if you did.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you assured her, tugging on the skin-tight material clinging to her body. “Lucy’s just a friend I made when I stopped here. She’s not…we’re not…”

Instead of struggling to find the words, you simply jerked on Natasha’s arm, bringing her crashing into you. Her hands found your shoulders and yours cupped her face, thumbs brushing the stray tears away. You had so much you wanted to say but you’d been taught actions speak louder than words so with a rush of courage, your lips brushed hers.

She gasped, her lips still against your own and you wondered if you’d made a mistake. But, as she sagged into you, she fervently brought her mouth to yours, kissing you desperately. She clung to you like you’d disappear, arms coming around your neck to keep you close.

When air became a necessity, you pressed your forehead against hers and smiled. “Want to take a road trip with me?” you asked breathlessly, giggling as she nodded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Maybe this was that world after all.

[kiranatrix]

Yosuzume. A art (by @ikathemadhatter) and fanfic (by @kiranatrix) collaboration for @deathnotetober​ [Day 8 - Wara Ningyo]

Characters: Beyond Birthday, mentions of L, Roger, and others // Rating: T (occultism, mention of suicide and the LABB case)

Summary: Beyond’s shinigami eyes have always set him apart and given him knowledge no human should possess. His obsession with divining and controlling the future has led him to develop his own rituals, which weave themselves into his life and the events of the LABB case.

I.

Beyond Birthday was under his bed when they came to tell him that A had died, repeatedly flicking a zippo open and shut and counting Roger’s footsteps.

He’d already known something was going to happen today; his eyes had told him the ‘when’ and the birds had told him the rest. He’d laid down in the forest past Wammy’s House and listened, divining how it would happen as he had since childhood-- the patterns, the trills, even the silence held meaning for him. Beyond knew he was magic, was different from others. He was a stranger in this world and yet could channel what magic was here using rituals and systems of his own making.

Magic always had a price and he’d gladly paid it in this case, throwing the needed items into a small fire in the woods. Something precious to him-- one of his Akazukin Chacha manga. Something from the target-- a lock of A’s hair he’d snuck in to clip in the night. Something he’d killed-- an enormous spider he’d caught in the attic. And finally, a piece of himself. Beyond pricked his finger with his switchblade and let the blood drip into the fire. Five or six drops should be enough for this ritual since it was only information he needed. Wasn’t like he was trying to make something happen. Powerful magic required a greater sacrifice.

When Roger had left, Beyond grabbed the straw doll he’d prepared for this, the wara ningyo that would absorb evil as A passed to the next world. Equally important was that it would absolve him of the sin of foreknowledge. He couldn’t have saved A, but he knew it was still a very grave sin and one he didn’t want on his conscience. It was nailed to the sacred tree that the birds had told him of years ago, and when he immediately felt better, he knew it had worked.

II.

A few days later, the birds told him someone important was coming to Wammy’s House. Beyond assumed it was for the funeral but when he asked, they said no, the person was coming for him. There’d been murmurs among students in the halls about who would be the next successor to L now that A was dead. Beyond had the next-highest test scores to A but that didn’t mean he was a shoo-in given what Roger liked to term ‘his instability.’ Roger’s opinion didn’t really matter; it would be L that would pick and Beyond had it on good authority that L was also exceedingly odd.

Beyond craved to know the numbers above L’s head, but L had always stayed away. Roger and Wammy had attempted to purge the school of any mention of L-- certainly any pictures had been spirited away-- but they hadn’t counted on Beyond’s birds tattling on L’s habits. He’d spent quite a lot on sacrifices over the years to hear every detail he could. There were a few old owls that remembered L’s walks in the woods where he would mumble around a lollipop and crouch down to sweep aside leaf litter and draw diagrams in the dirt with sticks. Wild hair, dark eyes, wiry as a willow. Dark crescent moons under his eyes, skin pale as fresh eggs, lips that were constantly worried by a thumb. Beyond laughed when they told him L peed on anthills and once got sick eating the wrong kind of berry.  Maybe L was human after all.

It didn’t diminish his distaste for what L represented. Didn’t make his resolve to best the man any less intense. Like A, once upon a time, Beyond had idolized L and this path they’d been corralled into. But like A, he’d gradually become disillusioned by the pressure and the rigid expectations.

Clean as clockwork, Beyond was pulled aside after A’s humdrum funeral and taken to an office with only a laptop on the desk. It was a test and he knew he was being watched by cameras hidden in old portraits or the pompous school regalia on the walls. It was unfair-- L’s eyes could see him but Beyond remained blind. The man had been in here, though, and just as his ritual predicted, he thrilled to spot a single short, coarse black hair when he bent to tie his shoes. He pocketed his prize, stuck in a piece of chewed-up gum.

He later found out he passed the test and L had chosen him as his successor. Roger offered it with dry congratulations and Beyond forced a smile, but it made no difference to his plans. The ritual had told him he had to leave Wammy’s House forever. His path was not behind L but over him. Beyond would create a case that would baffle L to the end of his days, and then he would die.

Another wara ningyo was nailed to the tree on his way out, absolving him from the sin of leaving all the others behind (he cut a few corners and only included the hair of the kids who hadn’t been dicks to him. Fuck the rest of them). He had no choice. The ritual was never wrong.

III.

Beyond traveled all over the world but listening was hardest when he ended up in Los Angeles. Car horns and the noise of the city drowned out the songs of whatever unlucky birds lived here. There were pigeons galore but they were too stupid and didn’t know anything of value. They knew L told lies but that was hardly anything new so he didn’t bother making the sacrifice for that.

He’d haunt the pet stores instead, whispering to the parrots and budgies and canaries to find out how close L was to finding him. Some were so tame to have forgotten the meanings of their language and only told him gibberish. Eventually, he scraped together enough money to rent a sordid room in Skid Row and buy a few wilder finches from the shop. Finches were always smart. He slowly befriended them with millet and jam and they were full of ideas and revelations. He made his sacrifices in an old oil barrel in the alley behind his apartment building but he had to be more careful these days. He was running out of things that were precious to him and couldn’t spare as much as before.

As the sweltering days of July passed, he made ten wara ningyo just like the finches said. Four dolls for his first sacrifice, three for the second, two for the third, and one for the last and most important victim-- himself. The first nine dolls would banish evil and absolve Beyond, just like the one he’d made for A and the Wammy’s kids. The tenth had a different, opposite purpose, but magic was flexible as long as you knew the rules (his rules). It would be a curse upon L, woven with the strand of the man’s hair he’d secreted away months ago. Beyond didn’t know the numbers over L’s head but this curse would attract some terrible misfortune to L like iron to a magnet. It was the most powerful magic he’d ever attempted but he was giving everything of himself this time; the signs all pointed to success. He would baffle the World’s Greatest Detective and prove himself superior. His magic was something L could never understand.

Beyond released the finches the day he met Misora, hoping their wings would lift them above the smog to somewhere magic hadn’t died. They didn’t know where they would end up and neither did he, he only knew that his magic would work. It always did.

[readinginthereadyroom]

I’m thinking about when gordon said “word travels fast. you know how hunters talk” (spn 2x03). and bobby’s living room piled high with stacks of lore, pastor jim’s secret room, ellen’s roadhouse.

sam and dean are stumbling into john’s world. a world of hunters who help each other out, who share stories and lore—a community. one that sam and dean know nothing about.

and that’s because john never brought sam and dean to the roadhouse. never let ellen look after them or jo befriend them. instead he leaves them behind at motels, or at pastor jim’s church, or at bobby’s scrapyard. places where he thinks they will be isolated. where other people (besides himself) can’t influence them.

this is an abuse tactic. luckily for sam and dean, it doesn’t always work. we find out later how bobby becomes their stand-in parent. they are his boys. and that fight dean mentions bobby and john had? the one where bobby threatened to fill john up with buckshot (spn 1x22)—I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that was about bobby taking issue with how john was raising sam and dean. because bobby knows about abusive fathers.

and obviously there were repercussions. sam and dean hadn’t been back to the scrapyard since bobby threatened john (we don’t know when it was, but can assume it was years ago). just a couple lines but they speak volumes. hints at a john and bobby qpr divorce arc where john keeps the kids.

back to gordon. he’s a john mirror. like john used to, he drives a muscle car (a blood red el camino) with it’s own secret cache of weapons (notably in the backseat, where sam and dean would sit in the impala). gordon is the john who leaves his kids at a motel, so he can “go-it-alone”. the john who salivates over the details of a hunt, a broken and twisted man who believes all monsters are monsters full stop end of story.

gonna reference myself and say that yes, the narrative of season 2 is about who and what are monsters. and that includes dean (after his many brushes with death) but also john. if season 1 asked *where* is john? season 2 is asking *who* was john? was he a hunter or was he a killer? was he ever actually a father?

because john very obviously had a life outside of sam and dean. which, 20+ years later, they are only now learning about. ellen says there was a time that john “was like family” (spn 2x02). except that john didn’t have his actual family with him.

we will see this pattern repeated in a later season with adam.

and it’s because of john’s example that dean finds it so hard to let people in—he calls ellen a stranger at one point and he’s right! he and sam don’t know her at all, even if their dad did. and it’s also so very very confusing. john said one thing and did another.

dean’s job is to protect sam—and that includes from their dad. their family is complicated and messy and came with empty stomachs and bruises. and was very strictly limited to four people: dad the drill sargent, dean the soldier, sam the baby, and the martyred memory of their mother.

and yes, gordon is a good hunter. ellen doesn’t deny that. but he’s also bad news. and he’s bad news BECAUSE he goes it alone. john is supposed to be redemptive because he had a community, because he was a father.

only he’s not. because john is also a mirror of dean’s. dean is willing to see the grey lines between monsters and humans. he goes back to bobby. he eventually trusts ellen. why? because dean is also a parent. he (and not john) raised sam. made sure he wasn’t just safe, but looked after. and he LISTENED TO SAM. sam saw that lenore wasn’t evil—and convinced dean. sam reached out to ellen and trusts her—and convinced dean to too.

we haven’t heard the iconic line “family don’t end in blood” yet (spn 3x16). but that’s what we’re building toward here. with john outta the picture we’re starting to see sam and dean branch out of thier isolated nuclear family. to step into a community. into a new family—one they choose.

[second-chance-stray]

Rp Log: Cravs meets Dornn.

Cravendy Hound ‘s evasive maneuvers have led her far beyond the reaches of Gridania - hell, she’s nearly in Coerthas, at this point. But the ones following her (a pair of clearly Ul’dahn lalafellin adventurers) are equally determined to find her, and Sea Wolves tend to stand out. It’s hard to hide when you’re literally several heads above the crowd. For now, she’s made good distance between her and her pursuers, and she ducks behind a rock to take a breather.

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn || In swift trot, and swifter pursuit yet, did the waddling of teeny-tiny Lalafellin feet soon encroach upon the desolate--and terribly Lunar Golem-deprived--platform, cascading upwards to Dalamud's shards. Whether bickering or pants drew more sound was heretofore unknown--but it was not wholly long before the fledgling lass, secluded as she was behind her choice of rock, felt a much more swollen, dark shadow dwarf her from behind. Atop a comparably /larger/ rock (of which there were many >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > around here, surely), twin rubies smote down upon her, embellished with a squint of scorn, as the brilliance of the Moon slipped betwixt the wolven pelt adorning the giant's noggin. "The -eyn- time I -try- to find mohtfryd in the most desolate corner of the Hylt..." His voice rang clear, with a low, guttural thrum as he barked quietly. "Who the blaethyll are ye even, lass?"

(Cravendy Hound) what a glorious entrance (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) Ironically she caught him in a time limbo (since this likely happens just a moon ahead of current date likely) (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) AKA at the climax of his current mini-arc (Cravendy Hound) mini arc?! :O (Cravendy Hound) whats been going down (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) You're the first person to get a proper taste of it before anyone else. (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) You'll find out. (Cravendy Hound) oh daym, early access (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) Just like with your art! (Cravendy Hound) his 'wild mountain man' arc, I will assume then >:D (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) In part, ish.

Cravendy Hound hadn’t been expecting company, not anywhere...but especially not out here. So focused she was on watching for the two lalafell adventurers that she didn’t notice his shadow cast over her space. It was only when he spoke that she snapped, like a rubber band held tense breaking without warning. She whips around and points a gun at his chest, her teeth bared with a cornered stray. “Who the fuck?”

Cravendy Hound keeps her gaze steady on the newcomer, but the sound of steps echoing throughout the bluff remind her of her present predicament. She brings her voice down to a harsh whisper. Gods, she doesn’t have time for this. “Keep yer bloody voice down! I could ask ye the same.”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn || The band upon his hues may've concealed much to him where physical sight was concerned; but in the world of aether, the faint flickers and fluctuations of the pursuers, as well as the pursued, came in clear as crystal. "Keep yer blaetstymm down? Just the opposite, lass." He knew full well--if not too well--the garb of those pledged to Ul'dahn gutters and less formidable circles. A stiff grunt and a flare of his nostrils broke the peace, as he straightened his form upon the rocky outcrop.>

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > To the heavens, his spine had fled; and to the Lalafell, his voice thundered. "Ye who step on soil uncharted, would have yer freedom bartered..." Raising a palm in warning, the aetherial wellspring of Dalamud's remains soon began to bleed deeper into the land, coalescing under the very rock he held domain over. "Turn -back- now or with an axe in yer breast." With each of his words, a star upon the gown of night was drowned out--dark, foreboding clouds began to roll all the closer in, >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > drowning moonlight out, each pale strand waning out with each of his wovels.

Cravendy Hound ‘s face drops from snarl to frown at the stranger’s stunt, but it’s too late now. Voice like that carried far and there was no chance it would go unnoticed. She presses her back against her rock and waits, listening for their response and waiting for an opportunity to flee. Killing these two would simply make things worse.

Cravendy Hound - The lalafell pair turn to look at Dornn. With Dalamud serving as his backdrop, he makes for a formidable foe, and one of them is clearly unnerved by his warning. But the other stands their ground and waves at him in greeting. “Hello, good sir! We don’t mean to intrude on private affairs, but there’s a dangerous criminal hiding in these lands, and we mean to bring her to justice. Have you seen anyone else around?”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn raised his proud chin taller, his vigil unbroken upon the parleying Lalafellin. It wasn't long before the boon of his deep voice interjected, crashing against the offered greeting. "Judged. By. Who." He slowly uttered, the raised limb curling into a commanding fist towards the offending couple. The tresses of aether soon enough began to drench the land from Dalamud's copse, rising to figuratively soak his feet within it. Ever patiently, he awaited their response, even as the crackle of >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > thunder soon began to drift through the blanket of clouds--an eerie downpour of rain carried upon the light sway of wind.

Cravendy Hound - The cowering lalafell tugs at the others sleeve, desperate to leave this place with their lives intact, but the other pays no mind. “Weird weather we’re having! But, ah, of course. Let me refer to my documents.” The foolhardy lalafell pulls out a document. A few words here and there are drowned out by thunder.

Cravendy Hound - “By the order of Lord ------ of the Uldahn merchant’s circle, Cravendy, a Seawolf female of roughly twenty seven summers, is wanted for the following crimes. Theft, destruction of property, attempted assassination, vandalism, public drinking....” The list goes on and on and on, with items both extreme and absurdly mundane. When the lalafell is finally done, they roll up the document, chest puffed and proud.

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn appeared particularly unnerved--if not, peeved--the moment the Ul'dahn banner was thrown into the lot of the meeting. Without moving his noggin, through his blindfold, his hues locked upon Cravendy's own, a secluded brow lifting in query. Not that she could see it. Ere long, his own voice rose to combat the claims. "Ul'dahn, aye?" It was with terrible difficulty that his tongue kept his accent under restraints, but so far little seemed to evade him. "Neither scoundrel nor ne'er-do-well >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > passes through these lands unscorned, this corner moreso than any other. No tarrying devil living abides about us now, as the land broke them like as not, long afore. Ye may go back to yer crooked purse-masters at ease o' heart."

Cravendy Hound grows pale, not sure if she should be more concerned about the lalafell adventurers or the strange man. She rubs at her temples as a headache builds.

Cravendy Hound - Fear finally takes hold of the less brave lalafell, who’s sent scrambling away back north and away from these rocky bluffs. Now alone, the other lalafell takes a step back, feeling unnerved. “If that’s so, could you lead us to a body? Our employer was very clear that if the target could not be taken in alive, he wanted proof that they were taken care of.”

Cravendy Hound - “Specifically, and this was the lord’s very words...’Her stupid red bandanna, if not her head.” The lalafell calls out. Cravs looks up to Dornn and shakes her head no. What now?

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn retracted the immense limb back to the swell of his waist, planting his fingers sternly atop it. Maintaining the glare from afar, a guttural growl began to underline his tongue, as the swell overhead grew far more ripe with levin; fit to properly burst. "Those bartering with the Forest's ways must pay the price--you may see the body, most certainly." His voice gradually gained in echo, until the bellow began to ricochet against every nook and rocky cranny. "If you have a mind to offer up >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > your own flesh. An eye for an eye, a due price wagered in blood and bone. Yet, with your companion now perished..." His right paw rose aloft once more, deliberating over the matter with a cup of his chin. "There'd be none left to report to your masters. Provided he, too, has not perished. 'Tis a grave, grave death sentence to wander the Forest alone... And as it stands..." His glare refocused on the gallant Lalafell, his shoulders noticeably squaring. "You are all... Alone."

Cravendy Hound - Upon being outright threatened with death, the lalafell’s courage begins to waver. One step back multiplies into many, though they keep their front facing Dornn. “A-ah, I never quite understood, er, Gridanian customs? I see! W-well, thank you kindly for your aid. It would seem this corner of the woods hides many secrets, a-and it would be foolish to go searching for them alone.

Cravendy Hound - Once they’ve backed up as far as they can go, they bow, and then quickly duck behind a rocky turn to search for their companion.

Cravendy Hound lets out a breath, but the tension doesn’t leave her shoulders. She still has her gun trained on Dornn’s form, and with the other two down, has the freedom to speak once more. “...What game are ye playin’.”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn gave a most curt nod to the departing Lalafell, the strength of his voice unwavering ever still on. "Report to your master that your villain is long since perished, as ye claim for it to have strolled through these woods. Of that, ye can be certain as far as Gridanian customs go." Once finally he felt the aether of the land up once more--and the Lalafell were truly dispersed--his hues opened again, steering his steely countenance down at the lass afore him. A quizzical expression formed >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > upon his lips, yet his feet knew little rest; with a light prance, he took abandon of the rock below him, effortlessly finding ground anew. "You place your judgement into the barrel of your... Firearm? -That- quick to hand out hollow justice?" Regardless, he strode fearlessly in front of her, planting both of his palms upon his armored waist. "Go on, then. Pull the trigger."

Cravendy Hound steps closer and closer still, until the other end of her flintlock is pressed against the metal of his breastplate. A familiar sensation washes over her. Ansty and impatient and eager to gun down any who even glance at her in the wrong way. That is who she was - but is it who she is now? Cravs narrows her eyes but pulls the gun away, arm falling slack to her side.

Cravendy Hound: “Why did ye ‘elp me back there? And what are ye doin’ to these lands.” The questions fill the space like hot air, more akin to demands.

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn stood near motionless as she pinned the cold steel against his armaments, yet the shot never shuffled through the barrel. "You interrupted my training, merlswys." He chose to, as ever, make his mind known, ere he took to her own query... Not that he'd answer any in particular, either. His lips maintained a neutral bend, as his knees bent ever so slightly lower, his hulking frame descending to match her height. "...Unharmed, ja?" He deeply thrummed, allowing his accent to unfetter once more.

Cravendy Hound pouts, sensing that she’s not going to get any clear answers from this guy anytime soon. She glances behind her at the entrance of this opening, double checking that no ones around. “Bah. I’m fine. I...” A simple thank you would suffice, but the words get stuck in her throat. Damnit, and she had been working on this! Cravs shakes her head and tries to convey her feelings in another way. “I would’ve been fine without ye buttin’ in.”

Cravendy Hound internally dies. Wrong words, Cravs! WRONG.

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn momentarily stood half-dumbfounded--not certain as to what to make of her wording, it would not take him long to catch on, either way. A gradual half-smirk decorated his lips, as his fist arose, pounding twice-over against his broad breast. "Aye, I am all but certain those villains rightly -cowered- at yer hidin'-behind-the-rock skills." His smirk soon grew into a nostalgic smile, as his chin respectfully in a bow. "Rhotdornn Aerst-born, syn von Hyrtfyr. At yer service, and yer family's."

Cravendy Hound: “Tch! I easily could’ve dealt with them. Just that’d make things worse, so I didn’t.” She trails off. It wasn’t as if she was in the clear after this. Her pursuer’s lord held a grudge that ran dangerously deep, bordering on obsession. He wasn’t the type to give up easily.

Cravendy Hound: “Rhotdornn Aerst-born, syn...Seven ‘ells, what a mouthful.” She pauses. “Hyrtfyr. Now that’s somethin’ I didn’t expect to ‘ear, and out in bloody nowhere of all places.”

Cravendy Hound: “Ye ‘eard the two midgets. I go by Cravendy, but ye can just call me Cravs.” She shakes her head in disbelief. Either he was pretending, or he wasn’t, but that didn’t change the strangeness of the situation. Two Sea Wolves from the Northern empty, far from any body of water, meeting all the way in the boondocks. Seemed more likely to win the lottery.

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn ensured a cacophony of steel and plate arose, as his large arms made their perch across his breast. "Oh, aye--ye were positively -burnin'- with eagerness to tear their faces off behind yer rock. Luckily, I averted such a gruesome an' terrible fate on their behalf." His better spirits soon felled, as his brows knitted lower, the grip of his arms tensing tighter. "...So, ye know. Hrmph." An acknowledging nod was issued thereafter, in the company of a subtle, guttural grunt. "Honour to ye, >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > Cravendy. Rather strange name, now that I think of it..." Regardless, he would dwell even less upon it. With his right arm so far up, he straightened anew, only to notice a faint, crimson flicker come alive; a soft glow swelling beneath his arm-piece. "...Bah, me apologies. Y'mind if I steal that snuggly rock of yers? Jus' clear some good distance, would'ja."

Cravendy Hound: “I’ll deal with my shite at my own pace, alright? I can’t go around blastin’ new ‘oles when I’m barely keepin’ the ship afloat as it is,” she mutters as she takes a step back from the rock. A hint of a smirk perks up her lips. “Just like ‘ow yer dealin’ with yer own, little Hyrtfyr.”

Cravendy Hound has walked a safe distance away from the rock and waves her hand out to it, as if saying ‘you do you.’

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn felt a thin chuckle bubbling within his chest at that. The eight-fulm ice giant took great humour at being titled little more oft than not, no matter how rare it might've been. "Sterrdyn nurture their inner beast by overcoming trials and tribulations. Aye, 'tis true." He idly mused, his left palm aiding with the sleeve of its twin limb. Without much effort, the straps were removed, bringing to bear his massive, pale brawn; yet upon its flesh, vibrant, crimson runes were soaked with >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > terrestial aether. Curling his palm into a fist proper, he assumed a lower stance, focusing his thought. Rolling his burly neck in unison with his mountainous shoulders, the large Sea Wolf steadied his breath, focusing solely on the aether of his arm... And ere long, a sudden lunge saw him spring forth, near-pouncing on the unfortunate outcrop. A discharge of vermillion aether soon bore its full brunt through his fist, imparting a moderate tremor upon impact... And with an instantaneous >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > crackle, the boulder began to buckle, splinter, and break away--only for smaller shards to fly yonder, scattering to the four winds in a mighty, thunderous blow. As he struck, a rallying cry swept the land... Only to die down as quick as it had come, leaving the man panting rather heavily at its end. "...Guh." He muttered, wiping away at his brows with his still-clad paw. "...Blaeti residual aether welled up too much while I entertained... Yer lil' guests... Oughta be fine now."

Cravendy Hound eyes the runes, trailing the scarlet swoops to where they begin and end. With a residual aethersense, granted to her by an ‘old friend,’ she watches with interest as Dornn swells and releases his energy against the boulder. At one point, she turns away, unable to look directly at its source, but the moment passes.

Cravendy Hound: “Ye look like ye can stand to get some sun. Haven’t seen skin that pale since lookin’ at a newborn’s arse,” she muses, though the joke stands to partially cover up her reaction. “Can’t believe ye were serious when ye said ye were trainin’...”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn maintained a focus on his breathing first and foremost, but to little avail--eventually, his own aether would betray him, prompting his bulk to topple just slightly--his fist pounding against the ground, as he knelt low. "Gah... Still more work t' be done, 'twould seem..." Dissatisfaction ran deep in his words, yet he shook his head to clear out the wayward thoughts. "Eugh... Where I hail from, 'tis one o' our staples. I'm a Captain by title, so ye'll have t' take that complaint up t' me Ma>

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > an' Da fer givin' me fairer skin, aye." Not that it was particularly /too/ fair, given the plentiful peppering of crimson hairs dotting the arms generously. "'Course I blaeti was. What else would I be doin' in this man-forsaken wasteland where only aether an' rocks bloom?"

Cravendy Hound: “I’m not foolish enough to face a Mother’s ire, so I’ll stick to pokin’ at ye,” she crosses her arms with a smile. “I don’t know. Maybe yer a rock enthusiast. If ye were, ye wouldn’t be the first I’ve met.”

Cravendy Hound observes his form, and without thinking she shifts into a pugilist’s crouch. “If ye shift yer back leg just an ilm back, like this, it might ‘elp yer balance. Then ye can channel aether a bit more efficiently, if ye catch my drift.” She freezes, and quickly goes back to standing around, though it’s clear she’s a little rattled. “If yer lookin’ for tips.”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn did, for a rare wonder, drop his staunch, stoic posture, as she hit the nail on the head. Bellowing out not a storm of arcane, but a raucous laughter, he finally wobbled back onto his feet, turning about to face her--palms finding solace once more upon his hipbones. "Aye, first bloody Sage I've encountered in this laents!" He knew Hell--and then he knew a Mother scorned. It virtually saw his own hairs stand on end. "Aye, a fellow fisticuffer...?" He observed her form with keen interest, >

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn > craning his noggin with a gentile tilt as he picked up her stance--only to blink in confusion as she withdrew so swiftly. "When I aerst soaked 'pon these shores, I took a muchly similar path. Alas, now once more... I stand on the ol' precipice o' decidin' which path t' take--this time, in the Hyrthymlian art o' runic combat."

Cravendy Hound: “Ye could say that. More akin to dirty fightin’...I didn’t go to no school to learn ‘ow to punch.” Her jaw clenches as she recalls the unfortunate path she took to learn such a skill. But this seemed a good way to repay the favor, and so, Cravs relents. She shifts back into that familiar stance, fists at the ready and eyes wide open. It feels like putting on a second skin.

Cravendy Hound: “If yer trainin’, why not I give ye a live lesson?”

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn contemplated the offer in tandem with planting his gauntlet back on--fortunately, the runes glow began to dissipate dramatically, at the release of potent, forceful aether. Humming within his throat as he wagered the options, he idly began to muse out a retort. "Mm... A scrappy fighter, then. Not too shabby..." He wagered, glancing up at her in suit. "While I can't share muchly o' our traditional technique with the outside world, I would 'ardly mind seein what ye got in store."

Cravendy Hound snorts. “Couldn’t give two shites about what’s traditional and what’s not. All that matters is who’s standin’ at the end.” And with that said and done, she dashes at him without warning. A battle waits for no one.

Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn would, naturally, welcome the pounce without tapping into his runic aetherial reserves. Assuming a squared, defensive stance, the bearish Wolf spread his digits apart, ready to properly grapple the gal's tackle until dawn finally struck.

(Cravendy Hound) so many questions NO ANSWERS but one day, some answers. To dornn's shenanigans (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) Oh trust me it'll just be (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) More questions (Cravendy Hound) we're both holding like, mysteries about our characters like playing cards )) (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) Naturally, that's the fun of it all~ (Cravendy Hound) and I am awful at poker )) (Rhotdornn Hyrtfyrsyn) Excellent~

[gagmebucky]

thank you to taylor @blessedbucky​, mia @theamericanfalcon, liz @marvelous-mr-stark, raechel, shayla, lauren, courtney, em and tina for allowing me to write this content as well as my beta reader kat @angel-fire​! love you all!

read the full synopsis and excerpt // read chapters snippets here.

o. in which you accidentally send your nudes to your brothers’ best friend. (includes reader’s pov, bucky’s pov, mentions of sexting.)

—

Initially, taking the photos—exposing yourself in such an intimate state to another—you were hesitant. It wasn’t the possible repercussions, i.e. revenge porn, that gave you pause but more-so an insecurity in your own body. Having never done something like this before, you briefly dithered between whether you should or not. 

Ultimately, however, you do. The guy had spent money on you, went through the trouble of finding something you’d like and shipped it discreetly. And when you slip the racy number on, your insecurities wash away and leave excitement in its wake. Everything about it you love, and it has you preening in a solo photo shoot you’re eager to show off. 

After a good time of selfie shutters bulking your phone’s storage—positions of you scantily-clad standing, sitting, a cross of both—you finally relent. There’s too many pictures to pick from, but you do. Three poses that optimize the best aspects of the outfit and that you think he’ll like the best have you buzzing in anticipation of his reaction. 

Giddy, you tap them directly on the album app and click the share button; you input the letter B in the ‘To:’ slot. Since there’s only two contact names under that letter, his name shows up immediately, the first with the nickname Bucky beneath it. You gloss over that and in quick succession, you quickly hit the contact and press send. 

For a split second, you’re proud: you’ve taken this e-relationship to the next level like he wanted, and he’ll be happy with you. Then it hits you like a brick through glass. A replay of your actions travel to your brain, and you belatedly realize what your eyes saw—your thumb smearing too low on the screen, so instead of Brock as the recipient, it’s Bucky. 

“No, no, no!” you whisper as your heart hurtles like a jackhammer stuck in your rib cage. 

A part of you insists it’s your paranoia playing tricks on you, and that’s a valid rationale because this whole thing does worry you about getting caught. Except, upon checking its legitimacy, you confirm what you accidentally did. There’s no mistaking it, now, because with your brightness turned up full, your partially nude figure stares you in the face underneath of a thread between you and your brothers’ best friend. 

James Bucky Barnes—the man who’s nicknamed you bambi because the numerous times he’s seen you face-plant over your own footing, the twenty-four year old who still ruffles your hair when he greets you, the soon-to-be business owner who dates certified models—has a trio of your attempts to be seductive; bottom lined with text you hope comes off likewise seductive.

Mortification swallows you. Your skin burns hotter and hotter by the second. Sure, you’ve embarrassed yourself before: you fall a lot, and you’re awkward conversationalist. But never something of this magnitude, not something that makes you seem so desperate and pathetic. 

You can imagine him opening the messages. He’d immediately assume, understandably, it’s a come-on; a girl trying to be a woman’s failed goal to enthrall a man like him, his best friend’s kid sister’s pitiful effort to be anything other than just that. As if you could ever measure up to the types of women he dates. 

And, yes, there’s been a time where you had a crush on him. But it’s not your fault when he looks like how he does, a rugged example of masculine sex appeal, and treating you the way he does, teasing but with a twist of kindness, and the fact that he’s the only non-blood related man allowed near you. 

But that time has passed. Even then, you knew the one-sided attraction was delusional to have. You were—still are—so sure about it that you never even dared to fantasize about him and the rumors that used to trek behind him about his sexual escapades. There’s no hidden desire to be with him, and that worsens it because it’s not like you’d feel any relief in knowing his reaction. You don’t care about his reaction in the first place!

Now, no matter how much you will insist it’s an accident, there will always be a dubiousness about it. With how close your families are, things are going to be tense. Because there’s no forgetting he’s viewed you like that, and there’s photo evidence of it. 

It hits you then. The extremity of your fuckup douses you in ice, and your muscles freeze because you register that since he knows about your family borderline patriarchal values concerning you, he has to tell them you’re taking nudes, and it will be over for you. 

It has taken you twenty years of your life to finally venture outside what your family has allowed, to sate your curiosity of what exactly your fathers and older siblings have kept so strictly from you: sex and all the goodness it entails. 

It has taken you an additional six months to explore in-depth and build the courage to start something tangible, to wander the depraved side of the internet where strangers did things to each other that made you want to do things with someone of your own: stirring foreign but oh-so amazing feelings in your nether regions. 

For twenty-six weeks you carefully treaded across in order to ensure your family had no clue what you’re doing, clearing your web history and using incognito mode, all your accounts anonymous, keeping your notifications on silent in case anyone becomes suspicious of who’s continuously contacting you. 

One hundred and eighty-two days later—in the middle of which you started your sex-based communication—of preparing to lose your virginity, your family will find out what you’ve been up to, and your life will be hell. 

Everything has been going so perfectly. You found a guy enough distance away he isn't affected by your family’s influence, middle-aged so he’s experience and doesn’t mind handling a virgin, and is willing to drive an hour to meet you at a specified hotel when the time comes.  

All that hard work down the drain. 

You toss your phone and jump to your feet. Panicked, your bare feet pad back and forth on your rug-covered wood floors. Your teeth gnaw at your thumbnail as different scenarios of how everything will transpire flit through your head. Each one is more terrible than the last, and your anxiety heightens. 

Somewhere in your disquietude, it occurs to you. Your brothers are downstairs and so is Bucky, but it’s ten o’clock at night, and that means they’re gaming. That particular activity coined a rule that all players have to stow their phones in the guest room. The specifics are blurry but it was something about Bucky interrupting the session due to excessive texts. 

It’s an opportunity. A chance that you can creep downstairs, swipe his phone and delete your mistake—hell, you’ll break his phone if you need to—before he’s any the wiser. 

“And—” Bucky Barnes drawls out the vowel as the rough-textured ball hurls through the air and swishes sharply into the hoop. “—nothin’ but net.” He relaxes from the perfected basketball follow-through stance, hands dropping to his sides, while he regards his old friend with a cocky smile. “Beat that, Rogers.” 

Steve snorts and catches the ball when it bounces onto the concrete. Palming it in one hand, he dribbles it twice and trades positions so instead of being stationed next to the hoop, he’s descended to the driveway curb where the established three-pointer line is. 

“You still got it, Barnes,” the blond admits, loosening his shoulders and spreading his footing to be a width apart. His right hand balances the ball from below, elbow tucked underneath, while the left splays against the side as his knees bend, and he springs up. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he releases the orange sphere at the top of his jump. It catapults in a flawless arc and drops through criss-crossed netting with a similar swish. His lips curve with satisfaction as he adds, “But, so do I.”

Bucky laughs and seizes the ball as it falls free. “Callum and Henry have no idea they’re going to get obliterated,” he says, coming to slap his palm in an affable embrace. “Fair warning, they’re still as sore losers as they were five years ago so be prepared for that.” 

Steve Rogers chuckles. The former fourth to their high school cliquè, he’s aware of just how bad sports they are. 

After graduation, he left out-of-state to pursue a degree in technological engineering, which he acquired last month in May, prompting his return back to New York. Between the four of them, Bucky and Steve are the level headed ones so he’s glad to have the support to handle the wild children his childhood best friends are. 

“Speaking of,” Steve starts, dirty blond eyebrows knitting as he glances around the neighborhood’s cul-de-sac. “Where are they? I thought Henry was supposed to be waking up Callum? If we aren’t starting yet, then can I get my phone back?” 

Bucky clicks his teeth. “Yeah. They’re probably stuffing their faces right now. Their sister went grocery shopping and got a cake so. . .” He waves his hand in gesture before continuing in vehement passion on the second point, “The whole phone thing is bullshit, though. I miss a few winning shots ‘cause I was busy with some pretty little thing texting me, and now there’s a ‘no technology rule’.” He scoffs and folds his arms. 

Now that he thinks about it, he could totally have his phone right now. And he’s more interested in having it than usual. There’s this girl he’s been seeing frequently at local parties—six feet tall with gorgeous brown skin, always done up in intricate eye makeup, silver tongued (he’s very interested in her tongue) when she speaks—and he’s finally gotten her number. She could be texting him, and he doesn’t even know it! 

“You know, yeah, we should get our phones back if those assholes want to take all day,” Bucky decides, agreeing with steps toward the closed storm door, but opened front door until he hears the inquiry:

“How is Y/N, anyway?” Steve’s voice is genuinely and harmlessly curious behind him, and he stops in his tracks because Bucky remembers the poorly hid crush he harbored for you. “I saw her instagram the other day, and she must be quite the heartbreaker.” 

Spinning around to face him, Bucky lifts a brow. “Huh?” Then he processes the implication that you’re out dating and such. The mere prospect has him surprising laughter. 

With their dad and his girlfriend on a tour of the world, the three of them are the only ones in the household. Given you’re the baby of your siblings, despite being an independent twenty-year-old, your older brothers have taken it upon themselves to ensure you focus solely on school work. Callum and Henry know exactly how to threaten their message across that you are not to be bothered, and anyone who tries will end up battered and bruised. 

He shakes his head. “Nah. She’s not with anyone, hasn’t been ever,” he tells him. “If you thought Callum and Henry were overprotective back then, you should see them now.” 

Gunmetal blue eyes blink surprised at him, and there’s a faint battle between delight and disappointment. “Really?” He shoves his hands in his sweats and falters somewhat. “It’s gotta be hard considering the way she has grown up,” he says but Bucky’s face scrunches in confusion. “You can’t tell me you don’t see how cute she is.” Before he can respond, Steve adds, “Obviously I wouldn’t ever see or be with her in that way—I wouldn’t betray Callum or Henry like that—but objectively, you can admit she’s gorgeous, right?” 

Bucky has to take a moment and genuinely consider it—consider you—because he hasn’t before. (Other than noticing the genetic similarities to Callum, who shares your eye and hair color but is a shade lighter than you, and Henry, who shares your complexion and eye color, but his hair is darker than yours.)

There’s no denying your looks are better than most: the structure of your face works beautifully, dazzling eyes framed by your lashes and occasionally accentuated by mascara, lips usually adorned in gloss or anything that keeps them hydrated which could be described as alluring, and your hair is almost always done, sometimes switched up in style. But there’s an inherent innocence there, a sweet and clumsy awkwardness, and maybe because he’s watched you grow up, four years your senior, but it just doesn’t do it for him. 

You’re his best friends’ baby sister, for God’s sake. He’d never at you like that in the first place. Especially not when he’s been aware, in the past, you harbored a schoolgirl crush on him. It was painfully obvious, to your chagrin, but he found it adorable—flattering but unsurprising considering girls flock to him like seagulls to boardwalk french fries. 

Currently, he’s sure you know he won’t ever pick you—under principle, under the lack of attraction. Other than pleasant smiles and occasional small talk mixed with teasing, you don’t gaze at him with starry eyes anymore, at least it’s waned significantly as you matured. 

Back to the question: “Uh, no, not really. Even if Callum and Henry didn’t care, I don’t think I’d be attracted to her,” he answers truthfully. Your purity doesn’t provoke his sexual attraction although it does invoke a duty of protectiveness. “She just isn’t my type.” 

Steve arches a brow, a surprised playfulness in his expression. “Oh? Then what is your type, then?” he asks, nudging him with his elbow. ‘Cause from what I remember you’re up for anyone and everyone.”

“That makes me sound like a whore,” he feigns offense but digresses into a fit of chuckles as he thinks back to all his various sex-capades and Steve flashes him a look that says aren’t you? “Yeah.” He nods with a prideful chortle. “But I’m into more frisky girls, y’know? Ones who’ve been everywhere and done everything. They’re brass and loud and just do whatever the fuck they want. I like to be one of those things.” 

Behind him, his best friend, Callum’s orotund voice rings out between the pressurized shh of the storm door, “Buck’s into slutty girls, Steve.”

He cringes at the diction. “Don’t call ‘em slutty. Sounds degrading when you guys say it like that.” Most of the time, he agrees with him—and his brother—but when it comes to women, there’s usually a dissent and a need for correction. “But yeah. I prefer girls with experience,” he declares strongly. “They don’t get attached like girls with... less experience do.”

Callum rolls his eyes, bounding down the porch stairs to the recently pressure-washed driveway, and he plucks the basketball out of his hands. “Here we go again. Bucky and his ‘I hate virgin’s’ campaign,” he mocks, shaking his head. “Doesn’t make any sense to me ‘cause everyone knows virgins are the tightest.”

This time, Bucky is the one to roll his eyes. “Well, that doesn’t make any sense considering tightness isn’t dependent upon whether it’s their first time ‘cause, y’know, vaginas stretch, you morons.” Sometimes he has no clue how Callum passed sex education (then he remembers that he bribed the health teacher). “Meaning a girl can have sex, then after a period of time, her virgin ‘tightness’ eventually returns. The only reason virgins may seem tighter is because they’re usually nervous.” 

The look on Callum’s face says that what he just said went right over his head. “Whatever.” He shrugs and starts dribbling the ball half-heartedly. “I just know the woman I end up with better be a virgin.” 

“Right!” Henry’s likewise orotund voice, a pitch higher, speaks after he pushes through the glass door. He presses to the court-slash-driveway, wiping icing off his mouth. “That’s marriage material. I’m not fucking around in a relationship with no woman that’s been fucked already, y’know?” 

Bucky’s eye twitches, jaw locking for a millisecond. “But you guys aren’t even virgins yourself,” he points out their hypocrisy. When they look at him to rebuttal, he automatically knows it’s going to run his blood pressure up and it’s not worth it. “You know, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You guys have fun with your conversation.” 

Swiftly, he whirls around and heads for inside. The last thing he hears is Steve’s ambivalent, “I get the appeal of virgins. But you know, I don’t think it really matters. I think it just matters if you’re into them, and if they’re into you. I wouldn’t care either way but. . .” 

The air conditioned air greets him coldly, and he revels in it. The June sun is killer, though perfect weather for playing a game outside, and the chill dries the sweat beaded on his forehead. He pads down the foyer, turns the corner to the bathroom and enters to take a much needed leak. 

Bucky has so much brotherly love for your brothers: neighbors since being in diapers, his mother the female figure in their life, and becoming and remaining best friends for over twenty years. There’s only one thing that grates his nerves when it comes to them and that’s their view of women is somewhat skewed. Sometimes—most of the time—went the topic comes up, he’s always one second away from throttling them. 

Hopefully after he pisses, they’ll be talking about something else, and finally they all can play basketball. It. 

Flushing the toilet, he goes onto wash his hands. He lathers up in orange antibacterial soap and rinses the suds off with hot water. There isn’t a towel, at least not a clean one, so instead he just lets the remaining droplets drip onto the floor. 

Emerging from the bathroom, James pauses and absentmindedly wipes his hands dry on his mesh-polyester shorts. His attention automatically draws to the guest room’s closed door adjacent to his position. A decision strikes him, and he steps forward and casts a curious glance down the corner. 

When boisterous and distracted laughter filters through the front door and down the empty corridor, it springs him into action. He figures there’s no harm in checking his phone while he’s here. He’d been especially resistant to giving it away because he’s engaged in a particularly stimulating conversation with a particularly titillating woman—popular in her own right, he can’t afford to miss his shot with her. 

His fingers turn the knob, and he shoulders through. The furniture is decorated and accented in yellow and white, condition otherwise pristine, save for the phones littered across the king-sized poster bed’s fluffy duvet. He strides across gleaming light oak floors and hones in on the only golden-colored, rubbed encased titanium. 

As he grips it, long digits curling around the back, pinkie supporting the bottom, thumb tapping the screen to life, he can hear the dwindling of high-spirited jesting through the en-suite’s rectangular horizontal slider window; a wondering of where he’s gone has him speeding up. 

Although he’d been gone for under an hour, his screen is bright with various notifications, social media accounts and text messages. He ignores the former and searches for the latter, specifically the contact, Val 😛💦. Scrolling quickly, he comes to a stop but not because of his original intent. 

His head cocks, and he knits his brows when he sees your name instead; formally nicknamed, bambi, due to your penchant for clumsiness and general fragility. You don’t text him—except for that one time you needed to be picked up from the library—and considering you know he’s just outside, his baffled curiosity is further spurred. 

With a sideways swipe of his thumb, your thread enlarges on the high-definition display. He isn’t sure what he expected, but this? Oh, this, definitely is not it. His eyes widen as the content loads, and reveals you, in all your half-naked glory. 

“Shit,” he breathes out raggedly, blinking multiple times because he has to be seeing things. But, nope, it’s still you—looking like that, wearing that. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your brothers are beginning to call his name, demanding his attendance, and he froze in shock, unable to tear his stare away from the girl who’s tripped over her own feet more times than he can count; the wallflower who spends all her time studying in her room; the forbidden fruit who’s innocent has always stirred a vigilant feeling inside him—now stirring something hard between his thighs because there you are. 

Like always, your hair is done prettily, wispy-lashed eyes big and inviting, a saucy pout to your glossed lips. Your flawless complexion seems to glow in the reflection of the mirror, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of the warm lighting, or if it’s the confidence you exude in your faux-innocent expression from where something so sinfully sexy. 

Three photos, and every single one is like a punch in the gut; displaying your usually hoodie-hidden figure in its bare, exquisite form. The skimpy white two-piece caresses your breasts in a lace halter top, leaving a teasing amount of cleavage. Your navel exposed, he becomes aware of how soft your skin would be. Moving lower, your untouched flower is wrapped in a thin thong with a bow on the center of the waistband. 

A million things flit through his head; a million disgusting things he never thought he’d think about you. 

The main one is every sort of attraction these snapshots arouse. A laser slices down his center and sears him to the core. The multiple poses calls every hungry part of him to attention, the curve of your breasts, the contours of your hips and the jut of your ass. And he shoves to the darkest recess in his mind because that’s just an innate reaction to lingerie. (Right? Right.)

He combats your images with that of Val: knows-what-she’s-doing and equally promiscuous as him Val. The anthropology major who downs beers within seconds and tongue kisses the first person she sees afterwards. 

The next is the one he focuses on, that you would take these and send them to him—as if he’d betray your brothers like that. Second-hand embarrassment strikes him because he knows if you’ll send something as risky as this, he’ll have to formally reject you and break your unreciprocated pining heart. 

He grimaces at the thought. This is why he doesn’t do virgins and the less experienced in general. The inherent strings are a killer, and he resents the drama; and it’d be ten times worse with you because of the added complications of your siblings. 

In fact, he hears something beyond him, coming down the hallway, and it’s probably them, but he can’t stop rereading your text accompanying the photos, partially imagining how it’d sound in your delicate voice: 

bambi (4:21PM): is this as pretty as you imagined? did i do good? just tell me what you want, and ill do it. i want you. soon, please - and yes, ill beg. i promise itll sound even better in person. 

[read it in its entirety on my patreon - one time fee of $5 to access!]

[vidimillion]

idk if ur still doing jasico hc but if u r... college aus! what majors, background, etc? i love college aus

i love them too anon. i love them too. (thanks for the req!)

the university library is packed with people studying for midterms. some people are sitting on the floor, with no chairs left. a ways away from the louder parts of the library, by the windows, there's a really cute guy who's got a small table all to himself. the cute guy sees jason desperately looking for somewhere to study and pulls his bag off the other chair at the table, silently offering.

jason sits down and tries to work, he really does. he's got all his architecture and literature textbooks out, and it works for a little while. jason notices that among the guy's textbooks, there's a few open poetry books that he seemed to read on his study breaks.  jason recognizes a few of them and feels a nagging desire to say something smart, something that strikes up an interesting conversation with this really cute stranger, "emily dickinson was a lesbian."

his faces goes red as he dies on the inside. surprising him, cute stranger stares at him and says something along the lines of, "oscar wilde and michelangelo were definitely gay too."

jason learns the cute boy's name is nico di angelo, and it's gotta be one of the prettiest names he's ever heard used by a real human being. he introduces himself and nico tells him his name is pretty. they're both double majors, something they impressed eachother with because they hadn't often heard of other people taking two majors. nico double-majors in economics and psychology, which impresses jason a lot. jason double-majors in english and architecture.

they're fast friends, and apparently great study buddies because they make it a schedule to study together nearly everyday. they meet up at the library, the yard in front of the school, campus gardens, family-owned cafes off campus. they get to know each other a lot, and realize they're in a few of the same psych and classical studies classes. apparently, nico's that one kid who was late to class and scaled the side of the building to climb through the window. nico discovers that jason's the kid who poured a 6-hour energy into a starbucks black coffee with twelve shots of espresso in it.

more under cut

after exams are over, they both feel dread at the thought that they won't meet up as often anymore. well, it's a lie, they're friends now and they ain't ever gonna let each other go.

they figure out they've got a ton of mutual friends— so many it's odd they've never met before then. percy the bio major who's on the swim team, annabeth who's in the same architecture course as jason, reyna who majors in business and polisci and is the only other person they know who's a double-major. they start by hanging out with their mutual friends, then they introduce each other to their other friends. soon enough, practically everyone they know is in the same friend group.

the ENTIRE group ships jason and nico. they want it to happen so bad in fact, that they literally set them up??

the theatre club is planning a modern— and lgbt friendly— reimagination of one of shakespeare's classics. piper and percy trick nico and jason into "helping them make their audition tape", when in reality they're not sending the audition tape for themselves. jason and nico get the parts of the two main characters.

that's a story for another time though. in short, it works, and jason and nico start dating after opening night. piper and percy are proud to say that they're the reason why.

they planned to have their first "date" date at a poetry slam, where nico's friend's band would play. there was a power outage, so both events were cancelled. instead of rescheduling the date, nico got the idea to bring jason to the roof of his apartment building with his ipad and some snacks. they binged a few movies and watched their part of the city light up when the power came back on.

jason's roommate just moved out and he really can't afford his apartment on his own. no matter how appealing the thought of living with nico sounds, it's way too soon to ask him if he'd move in with him. surprising him, nico asks jason if he'd like to move into nico's apartment— the one he lives alone in which is far nicer than jason's and is 50% paid for by his dad. nico says it's because jason's building doesn't allow dogs and he'd want to bring his dog with him if he moved. hazel and reyna know it's because nico would prefer jason to live in a less cramped space. jason agrees anyway.

nico technically has two dogs, one he co-owns with percy who's name is mrs. o' leary. the second one is a pup of his father's purebred rottweiler cerberus— she's half bear hunting dog, retaining ceberus's coloring but is far larger and far fuffier. her name's amelia. jason fucking loves her, but he's a cat person at heart.

jason successfully convinces nico to adopt a cat—  a gorgeous grey ragdoll who he's named tempest the second, after the cat from jason's childhood.

everybody will assume that between the two of them, nico's the sleep-deprived one. they're not wrong, but most people don't know that jason's even fucking worse. his skin is just so perfect that he never gets eye bags. he can go for almost a full week without sleeping. nico hates this but jason says nico does the same thing.

"no babe, it’s not the same, the longest I've gone without sleep is four days and you haven't slept since last tuesday."

nico has a habit of humming and softly singing when he's bored or distracted. once, jason had his head in nico's lap and nico was combing through his hair with his fingers. nico suddenly begins to sing really softly, something italian that jason's never heard before but if he has he can't tell. he falls asleep in like under five minutes, which surprises nico because jason's so stubborn about sleep. at first he doesn't know why jason fell asleep so fast, until a little over a week later when jason asks him to do it again. (nico thinks it's really fucking cute.)

in reality, nico knows why jason doesn't sleep that much.

before nico met jason, he kind of thought that jay was a spoilt rich kid who played lacrosse in high school or something. he always admired that jason was very hardworking— had two jobs and worked his ass off for his grades, and still spared time for his friends. he didn't realize until later on in their relationship that he was kind of right at first— jason hailed from a rich family, but they didn't want to pay for anything unless he was studying to be a lawyer like his dad. nico loves that about jason— he had the option to have his tuition, his rent, everything paid for as long as he studied something he had no passion in. and he decided he'd rather work.

(and when jason told him, it broke nico's heart because he knew what being abandoned by your family like that felt like. hades is a far better father now— he pays nico's tuition, half of his rent and actually enjoys communicating with him— but nico still remembers his life when he wasn't. it's a little bit of the reason why nico asked jason to move in with him, so that he didn't have to work so hard for rent as well as tuition)

that's all i've got anon i don't know anything about the college experience i'm sorry

[meloncubedradpops]

Repo! The Corona Opera

For every rotation that Earth has completed around the sun since the dawn of humanity, humans have created art to cope with the realities surrounding our everyday life. We weave stories in songs, movies, plays, books, paintings, and so forth, that help digest the world around us and provide an entertaining escape from the cruelties we endure. Some stories take place in abstract universes or in the future, and we rely on what we know in our present reality to build upon these fantasy societies. My favorite movie, Repo! the Genetic Opera, certainly makes this list. We are currently experiencing perhaps the most surreal year of our collective lives, and with each passing day I argue that we find ourselves closer to the world crafted in Repo. I have seen this movie, at least 20 times. If you haven't watched Repo! the Genetic Opera or you haven't seen it in a while, I recommend giving it a view. The movie is unique in that it falls under three distinct genres: musical, horror, and sci-fi. And while the jury is out on whether our future society is going to go full on gothic aesthetic, I can say that the Repo! movie experience offers a glimpse into a dystopian fascist post-plague world wrapped in unapologetically hilarity with a heaping side of camp. It doesn't offer any spiritual cleansing that our souls collectively need, but it does show us what a new normal could look like if we really go off the rails.

As things stand, right now, so much of our daily lives and culture are impacted by the coronavirus. All of our institutions have been impacted, from school, to work, to family, to the way we interact with strangers, and especially our economy. We have all felt the effects in one way or another, and honestly? Most the impacts are of our own undoing, for better or for worse. I am going to write three pieces analyzing Repo! the Genetic Opera. First I will create the foundations that bridge our contemporary life and the world of Repo! Second I will explain how the Repo! universe operates under the definitions of fascism. And third I will weave together parts one and two into our contemporary world (particularly in the context of the United States) to highlight the dark path we heading towards. My viewpoints are of mine, and my own alone. Let's dive into part one.

Part I Repo! the Genetic Opera takes place in the year 2056. Humanity was on the brink of collapse as a result of a medical crisis that caused massive organ failure.

I never gave the premise much thought, at least not until recently. We aren't given much detail beyond the fact that entrepreneur Rottissimo "Rotti" Largo solved this crisis through his company GeneCo. GeneCo provides organ transplants that can be repaid through a payment plan. Witnessing the coronavirus unfold in real time and seeing its wrath, particularly on severe cases, honestly makes me wonder if the writers had some sort of "super plague" in mind when creating this universe. For the purpose of this analysis, I will assume that humanity suffered at least one infectious disease crisis. And just to reiterate covid-19 particularly, we really *don't* know what it's going to do to us long-term. Let the parallels begin. 

The world in Repo! the Genetic Opera, operates as normally as the citizens possibly can, which appears to be quite limited. I have noted how dated some the technologies look.

For a world 30 years in the future, it lacks cell phones and easy access to internet. When we enter Shilo's world (aka her bedroom!) she watched Blind Mag sing on a busted up tiny ass TV and the program itself looks like an ad on Home Shopping Network.

The Graverobber is shown reading headlines on a newspaper. The news reporters shown in the ribbon cutting ceremony during the 1st Italian Post-Plague Renaissance have old school cameras with flashbulbs.

The most contemporary technology appears to be a Wish.com version of an Apple watch, and even that looks like a leftover prop from Spy Kids.

Obviously the people who made this movie intentionally inserted these anachronisms, but why? This is a science fiction movie after all. I speculate that they reverted back because the impact from humanity's crisis resulted in an overall professional "brain drain" from the sheer volume of professionals that dropped dead. In fact every scene depicting medical procedures looks dimly lit and lacking in sanitation. We will see this as we struggle to contain the coronavirus, at least in America. Healthcare workers have already died from this thing, and I am sure many prospective college students will have second thoughts about a career in healthcare. I mean hell, look at no other than GeneCo itself. That company employs workers called "Genterns" who are most definitely not in full PPE. I don't doubt their medical expertise, but they appear to be disposable (please see: that time Luigi killed one for NO REASON in "Mark it Up").

On that note, it really was quite incredible how China built the pop-up hospital in Wuhan in under 4 days, but it was also not the most safe or structurally sound building by far (it collapsed, people were hurt!). Maybe at this point, the people in Repo! don't have much of a choice. I am sure there were likely legit hospitals, but the fact that the Renaissance had gross surgery tents is a bit unsettling.

This is a world that is completely built upon the social more of valuing your health above all else. There had to be a turning point in the GeneCo business model where they really played on up-selling organs for the benefit of "genetic perfection". "I needed a kidney transplant desperately. GeneCo showed this single mom sympathy. This makeover came for a small added fee. Now I look smashing on live TV!" Imagine signing the documents for your power of attorney while actively going into renal failure, when your doctor chimes in with an up-sell for breast implants. When all is said an done, your body is now not only functioning again, but you're hot! Even in a post-plague dystopia we are still holding value to having a nice rack. What's not to love about GeneCo? Obviously we know right away that GeneCo has a dirty side. Rotti Largo personally lobbied to make organ repossessions legal, and he does not hesitate to recollect his property. The concept itself is, of course, wild. In America, our healthcare system is incredibly broken and expensive.  You would wonder how it could get worse without us backpedaling many steps on the industrialization timeline. And in a lot of ways, I could see a company like GeneCo thrive here. We already hate the poor, and we have political think tanks that salivate over the idea of cutting social programs that keep people alive. Our president has wanted to repeal the Affordable Care Act while many people are unemployed during a pandemic. In Repo! we hear about those who don't pay, but obviously there are plenty of people who do. Those who can will happily pay, either for vanity reasons or to stay alive.

And while society cites Rotti as being a "hero" for humanity, we see more and more evidence that the crisis is both not under control and life is cheap.

His son murders multiple people, in front of others, with seemingly no repercussions. In the scene where Shilo meets the Graverobber for the first time, adjacent to the graveyard and tombs owned by wealthy families who could afford grave markers, lies a poorly constructed wall hiding thousands of corpses piled on top of one another. We even get a glimpse of a truckload pouring more onto the pile. I would not be surprised if there is a disinformation campaign there keeping the public in the dark (although you'd think the smell would be unbearable at this point).

There are multiple indications that propaganda works in society (still), and no one is getting the full picture of how much of a raw deal the people in Repo! have. We see poster after poster about GeneCo, in the literal absence of other corporations. 

And a lot of them bear resemblance to 20th century Russian propaganda. It would be a real shame if the goals outlined The Foundations of Geopolitics: The Geopolitical Future of Russia were actually realized. Imagine going to visit your mother's grave and hearing commercials for hardcore analgesics play through the cemetery. Also, there's a police presence too. Apparently the police are called Genecops and have authority to execute any assumed graverobbers on site.

Imagine the hellscape it would be to live in a world where your loved ones may have died from a terrible pandemic, and you face a non-zero chance of an over zealous cop murdering you thereafter, and because their qualified immunity bypasses the judicial system entirely...oh wait. Anyways let's circle back to the Graverobber character.

Graverobber's role in Repo! appears to be minor on the surface. Rotti's daughter, Amber Sweet, appears to almost despise her relationship with him. And that relationship involves him supplying Amber with what he describes as the "21st Century cure". This cure you ask? A super effective painkiller with the clinical use to accompany GeneCo surgeries. This drug is called Zydrate, and it has a street version that he acquires and sells, with clients including Amber Sweet.

Graverobber makes his living sucking the glowy blue brain corpse goo and injecting them into people on the streets. Yum!

Not everyone who needs an organ transplant can pay for it all upfront. Luckily for them, GeneCo provides payment plan options! The caveat to this is if you fail to make those payments, legally GeneCo can come and repossess your newly acquired organs. If you find yourself past due, you will soon see the last face before your doom, the Repo Man. He will harvest GeneCo's property, and it won't matter where you are or what you are doing. There is no anesthetic, and you will likely die! This was all made legal through Rotti's lobbying efforts.

Society, as it's set up today, allows for property repossessions. This can be as straightforward as a repossession of your vehicle to as heartbreaking as a foreclosure on your home. At the end of the day, the impacts of that are difficult and life changing. Currently millions of people in America are out of work, and the threat of losing everything is at stake for many. We could lose our homes, our vehicles, and our sense of purpose. And while many government bodies have created temporary moratoriums, they have not provided any substantial financial relief to keep the proverbial repo man at bay. What went wrong in this dystopia to normalize the concept of death due to nonpayment? Fascism! Ah yes, the dreaded f-word. In my next essay, I will outline the 14 characteristics of fascism and how it relates to the universe in Repo! After I will relate that to our modern world so that we can try and stop this from becoming our reality.

[sadienita]

Maison des cartes - The High Priestess

Shapeshifter!Gahyeon x Reader (feat. Youngeun of Rolling Quartz)

Word Count: 6.4k

Contents: wild animal attacks, animal violence, some gore, yelling, aggression

Previous | Next

~

loss of inner voice repressed feelings

~

You grabbed the papers and got up off the floor. At least laying down had helped you out. You hadn’t hit your head or hurt your back and that was good. The house itself wasn’t big so you were hoping that creaking sound was the front door. You didn’t know how many rooms there were but something had opened.

However your stomach sunk when you walked into the hallway to find the front door closed. You tried the handle but to no avail, it was still stuck tight. You were still trapped. But all the rooms on the main level had been covered right? Other than a small bathroom that you couldn’t get into that afternoon.

You froze as faint sounds of whispers hit your ears. It sounded like a woman’s voice, but she was saying so many things at once, some in languages you didn’t know. You kept your breath quiet, knowing that whatever was there could see you anyway, squeezing your eyes shut as your heart raced and the whispers grew louder, as if getting closer.

Finally you spun around, if you were going to die you might as well face it.

As soon as you opened your eyes the whispers stopped. A whimper left your lips as you spotted the open door in front of you. That door had been jammed shut in the afternoon and yet now it stood open with a flight of stairs beyond, leading up to the second floor. Clearly, that was where you needed to go next.

“I hate this, I hate this so much.” You grumbled under you breath as you climbed the stairs. “It’s so much worse going upstairs.”

The floorboards creaked under you feet and you grimaced with each step. Something was definitely watching you now and you could feel it. But you had no choice but to keep going until you could get that damn door open.

An open door down the hall caught your attention and you moved towards it slowly. Something about the upstairs was even creepier. It was more dusty, more cobweb covered. The floor creaked more and it looked untouched, as if no one who had broken in had made it up here.

A whine left your lips when you peered in the open door. The room was full of furniture, all of which was covered in white sheets, as if waiting for the day someone came back. The only thing uncovered was a large, king sized bed with posters and hung with a light, airy, albeit moth eaten fabric.

Your eyes landed on the card sitting neatly in the middle of the bed.

“Well at least this time I have a bed to lay on,” you muttered as you walked through the room and climbed onto it. You placed the music next to the pillow before taking a deep breath and grabbing the card.

~

You gasped as you sat up suddenly, your lungs greedily sucking in the air they had so sorely lacked. There really was no way to get used to that horrible feeling but at the very least it was less and less disorienting the more times you did it.

You looked around quickly, trying to get your bearings. You were in a small tent and you could hear the din of voices and excitement outside. The circular table you had been laying on was covered in a messy pile of tarot cards. You organized the pile, trying to figure out where you’d been dropped when someone pulled back the curtain for the door.

“You have one more for today.” The woman peering in said.

“One more…?” You questioned, knowing you probably sounded dumb.

She rolled her eyes. “One more fortune to tell,” she sighed.

“Ah,” you said, feeling tense. “Send them in.”

You heard chatter and what sounded like a protest before a young woman was pushed into the tent, clearly a little disgruntled over being there. She smoothed out her skirt and straightened the shawl over her head before sitting across the table from you.

“I’m Gahyeon,” she said plainly. “I’m sorry about this, my mother insisted I have my fortune read before I marry. I know your day was almost over.”

“It’s fine,” you hummed, trying to figure out how you would read her fortune. “Uh, take some cards.”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, clearly not buying it, but doing it anyway. You watched her hands, assuming you needed to do something to help her and wondering what it would be. She handed you the cards and you caught sight of something on her wrist, what looked like a tattoo, covered mostly in her clothes. Some kind of animal.

You placed the cards on the table slowly, having no clue what they meant but stuck on the tattoo. Was there a chance she was a shapeshifter? Could you make that guess? Maybe not all the ones you met would be witches. Maybe some would be something else.

“Can you touch each card for me?” You asked, hoping it didn’t seem like you were stalling. Gahyeon rolled her eyes again but did as you asked. As she reached across the table her sleeve pulled back and you caught sight of the tattoo of a leopard on her wrist, so lifelike you thought it might jump right out of her skin. You regarded it until she pulled her hand back quickly, tugging her sleeve down and your eyes snapped up to her face, just catching the pendant hanging around her neck.

Another leopard.

“You-” You stopped, properly taking in the cards and recognizing all the ones you had seen in the house so far. You still weren’t sure how to read them but could that really be a coincidence.

“You wanted to know about your marriage?”

“Look you really don’t have to do this. I don’t really believe in this stuff anyway but if I don’t do it my mom will freak out. She thinks it’s a bad omen or-”

“A cat.” Gahyeon stopped talking, staring at you with wide eyes. “That- uh- you’re like a cat, that’s what I’m getting.”

Perfect, now you had to bullshit something. But you were guessing that your suspicions were correct, at least.

“You’re independent, you like to have control over your life but-” you searched the cards below for more words and their faces stared up at you, giving no help. “You feel… turbulent.”

“H-” Gahyeon seemed in shock as she listened to you.

Might as well run with your hunch. “You need to find control and balance or this- all of this- it’ll all fall apart. You can’t build a future like that, without control, without a sense of who you really are.”

Gahyeon stared at you, mouth gaping. She was shaking slightly and you were worried you had overdone it but at least you knew she knew you knew what she was. Either that or you had frightened some poor woman half to death. But you thought your guesses might be right and what she needed was to learn how to control it.

“That will be all,” you collected your cards and she clamped her mouth shut, nodding numbly before stumbling her way out of the tent. You organized the cards into a neat pile before slipping out the back of the tent.

~

You wandered through the busy carnival as the sun slipped lower in the sky. Lights came on as you did so, drenching the whole place in colour. Everything seemed as if you were viewing it in a funhouse mirror. Things seemed just a bit too exaggerated and distorted.

You wondered if this was a magic carnival. That might explain why it was so odd, well more so than a non magical one anyway. Then again you still didn't even know where you were taken. Were you in your own world? In a different universe? A different time? You had no clue, just that you had to help in some way.

At least you had a clue this time.

You wondered where Gahyeon had gone. Meeting up with her was your next step but you weren't sure where she might be. At any rate you wandered to the outskirts of the carnival, hoping to spot her leaving and gazing at the forest just beyond the open field.

You didn't like this place. There was something so unsettling about the lights, about the cartoonish features of the space around you and it felt as if it was just a little bit outside of time. Like things were standing still in the worst sort of way that made your stomach lurch. The further you got from the music and the lights the more calmed you were but something about it still freaked you out.

"You!"

You jumped at the sudden angry yell as you looked around before your eyes landed in Gahyeon, her face flushed and her expression unkind.

"You're the one!" She stalked towards you and you stepped back. She nearly closed the distance anyway, grabbing the front of your shirt and speaking to you in an angry whisper. "How did you know?! No one is supposed to know!"

“I-I- Your tattoos,” you said quickly, shaking slightly from the sudden confrontation.

“You can’t tell anyone!”

“I wasn’t going to!” You said quickly. “I want to help you.”

Gahyeon regarded you skeptically. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Because I can.” Those were bold words. “I think I can, I mean.”

Gahyeon let go of you. “Well someone needs to,” she muttered. “I can’t get married like this. I can’t…” She took a deep breath. “It’s getting dark and I need to get home.”

“I’ll come with you,” you blurted out and Gahyeon gave you a strange look.

“Why?” That was a good question. Why should she let the random stranger who freaked her out stay the night?

“The carnival moves,” you said, hoping that seemed like a legitimate answer. “I don’t have a place nearby.”

Gahyeon sighed before looking at the darkening sky. “Fine, just hurry up. We don’t have much time before nightfall.” She grabbed your hand and pulled you with her away from the carnival.

~

Gahyeon’s cottage was cozy. The little fireplace filled it with warmth that staved off the nip in the air outside. She was a good host, even if she did seem a bit wary of you. She was the first not to trust you so quickly but that was fair. She didn’t know you. She just knew that you knew her secret and you were saying you could help her.

Which you hoped you could.

She knew. She knew she was a shapeshifter so that was the first step. She already knew that she did change but you were guessing she had no control over it. Arem had an enchanted necklace. Did Gahyeon need one too? She had to do it on purpose right? She had to practice to be aware of herself, to remember who she was.

“Stay in your room,” as Gahyeon took away the tea you were sipping on she gave you a warning. “Lock it and stay in there. I know that I’ll change tonight but I can’t control myself. I’m…”

“You’re barely aware of it, like it’s not even you.”

She looked at you sadly. “I almost wish I didn’t learn, didn’t figure it out. It would be easier if I didn’t know. Now I- it’s like I can see through its eyes but I’m trapped inside. It’s hazy and spotty what I remember but it gets stronger every time.”

“You can learn to control it,” you said. “You will.”

Gahyeon didn’t meet your eyes. Instead she looked out at the moon, rising through the sky. “You should go to your room.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You questioned.

Gahyeon set the mugs in the sink. “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

You nodded slowly before rising from your seat. Gahyeon motioned to your room and you went into it, giving her a half hearted good night before closing the door. You locked it the way she’d told you and heard her locking the other side. The minutes ticked by and you looked around the room, grabbing a book and sitting on the bed to read it.

You heard the front door of the cottage opening, creaking on its hinges. Footsteps in the main room before something crashed to the floor. You rushed out of bed and to the door when you heard Gahyeon’s groan and stopped. You listened through the door, knowing she told you not to come out but worried that she might be hurt.

Until you heard a growl.

A low, saw-like growl. You kept your breaths quiet as you pressed your back to the door, wondering how strong it was. She had lots of locks on it. That had to be for a reason. The growls outside the door got closer and you pressed your lips together to keep quiet.

A roar came from the other side before a loud bang on the door. You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming as claws scratched at the far side of the door and another roar came before Gahyeon banged against it again.

Tears stung your eyes as the bangs and roars continued. You pressed your back against the door harder as if that would keep it in place and buried your face in your knees, biting down hard on your lip as if the sound was what was tipping off the beast outside.

You mouthed silent “pleases” as you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping for a miracle, hoping for something that would keep you safe. The question crossed your mind again.

Could you die?

A howl in the distance caught your attention and the growls stopped. You listened to the silence for a moment before the large paws on the other side of the door bounded away, running out into the night.

~

Your back hurt as you started, waking up from your sleeping spot against the door as Gahyeon called your name from the other side. You shook out your head, taking in the way the sun streamed through the windows and shakily you stood. Your hands were unsteady as you undid the locks on the door and slowly opened it. Gahyeon had a somber, guilty look on her face and you let out a gasp when you saw the back of the door, scratched up with deep gouges.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed shakily. “I lost track of time. I-I should have left sooner.”

“I’m okay,” you said, nodding quickly. “I’m fine and that’s what matters.”

“Wh- What do I do?” She asked. “H-How do I stop this?”

You moved through the room and sat on the couch slowly. “I met another.”

“You did?!” She said.

You nodded. “In- Well somewhere else. She has this necklace that could stop her from changing.” 

Gahyeon’s hand came up to her own pendant, thinking. “It was enchanted?”

“I think so.” You said.

“Then I need one, I need to get something enchanted.” Gahyeon stood up and started rummaging through her things.

“Do you think it needs to be specific?” You asked.

“No it’s not that I- I need something to pay with. Things like magic are never free.”

“Money?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“No, some…” Her shoulders dropped as she picked up a glittering flower broach. “This was my grandmother’s. I was supposed to wear it for my wedding.”

“You can give something e-”

“No,” she said. “No it has to be special to me. Otherwise it’s not worth it to her.”

“Gahyeon…”

She shook her head. “Come on, she lives close to here, just a couple hours walk. We can make it there and back before sundown.”

Gahyeon took your hand and pulled you from the cottage. You wrapped yourself tighter in your clothes in the chilly morning air. She led you into the shade of the forest quietly, keeping her eyes away from the claw marks on the nearby trees. Away from what looked like a dead animal out of the corner of your eye.

“How long have you-”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

“Do what?”

“You don’t have to pretend to care. You don’t have to talk to me like I’m-”

“You’re still a person.”

She’d eyed you. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well I don’t like the silence, so humour me.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “I don’t know when it started exactly. I know about two years ago I realized I was blacking out, losing my memory. I thought it was nothing, just fatigue and forgetfulness. A few weeks ago I… Well I realized that it wasn’t just fatigue. I realized I was changing. That’s when I noticed the tattoos, like they were hiding from me and one day they were just… there.”

“Do you remember last night?” You asked.

“I wish I didn’t,” she grimaced.

“Ah.”

She sighed. “So what about you? How do you know so much?”

“I-I-” You chuckled nervously. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“I shapeshift into a leopard. Is it crazier than that?”

You thought for a moment. “I’m not from here.”

“There’s got to be more to it.”

You sighed. “I was… sent here. I’m… I’m trapped somewhere else and the only way to get out it seems is to figure out whatever I’m supposed to do here.”

Gahyeon laughed. “You were right, that does sound crazy.”

“Hey!”

You carried on chattering on your way through the woods. The walk was long but Gahyeon seemed to warm up to you a bit and it was nice to talk to her. It was different from the others, but you had a clear path here. You knew what your goal was pretty easily this time. You just had to make sure you did it.

The woods around you grew thicker and though the air chilled you it didn’t scare you so much. Maybe you were just getting used to this all. How many days had you spent on these quests now, and yet only hours had passed at home. It seemed impossible, but then from the second the door was locked none of this was possible. Still, you might as well go with it at this point.

Soon enough an old, gnarled tree came into view ahead. A door was visible in the front of it and eerie lanterns that gave off a yellow-green light hung around the entrance. The sight was spooky but Gahyeon seemed calm, if a little somber, as she walked you closer and through the door.

The inside was hazy, thick with some kind of smoke or incense. Gahyeon pulled you close to her side as you looked around and she stopped you from stepping any further.

“She’s a powerful enchantress,” Gahyeon whispered. “And unlike you, she actually can see what’s to come.”

“Why didn’t you come to her in the first place.”

Gahyeon rolled her eyes. “She can be…  Just- Let me talk, okay?”

“Okay,” you hummed.

Gahyeon took a deep breath before leading you through the dwelling. Around the center of the tree the smoke got thicker. You coughed slightly, waving away some in front of your face before seeing the young woman sitting ahead of you. Pink hair cascaded over her shoulders and as she turned to look at you, you could see that her eyes were white and milky.

“Gahyeon,” she smiled slowly, her voice was gentle and high. “And you bought a friend.”

“Youngeun, I know you told me not to come back b-”

“You need me to enchant your pendant.”

“Y-Yes,” She said. “You know I’ve been having trouble and I-I brought something you might like.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Gahyeon,” Youngeun said. “I want something from them.” Youngeun’s gaze shifted to you and she pointed at you slowly in a way that unsettled you.

“Youngeun they just came with me, I-I’m the one who-”

“If they’re not willing to pay then this is over,” Youngeun said simply.

“I’ll pay,” You said quickly. “Gahyeon you need this.”

Gahyeon pressed her lips together but nodded. Youngeun let out a giggle. “Splendid! Give me the pendant.”

Gahyeon quickly handed her the pendant and you stood back and watched as she started to speak in a strange language. The pendant glowed thoroughly under her hands as she did so and her eyes grew brighter, shining out into the room. You shifter closer to Gahyeon, a little afraid as Youngeun said her incantations. Something about it was very unsettling and you were starting to wonder what you had agreed to but you couldn’t back out, this was your only way home.

The moments ticked on and the glow started to fade as Youngeun’s words grew slowed until she finally stopped. She picked up the pendant and handed it to Gahyeon who rushed to hang it around her neck.

“You must change,” Youngeun said. “If you don’t change once a month it will break. Your true hope lies in control.”

Gahyeon nodded quickly and Youngeun reached for you. Gahyeon pushed you forwards and your hands found Youngeun’s, unsettled by her unnaturally strong grip. She squeezed and you felt a rush of emotion run through you, like all of your recent memories were playing right in front of your eyes.

“You have been on quite a trip,” she smiled, the image of her hazy before you. You watched as older memories played in your head, reaching into your past. Youngeun reaching into your past into moments you had nearly forgotten. You tugged back a little but her grip remained strong and you felt dizzy. 

“Youngeun,” Gahyeon hissed.

“Fine,” Youngeun released you. “That was more than enough.” Gahyeon pulled you to your feet but Youngeun grabbed you before you could leave.

“You won’t die, not for real. But unfinished business needs to be finished.” She turned her head to look at you. “Make sure to finish it.”

“Okay,” you choked out and Gahyeon pulled you, thanking Youngeun and dragging you from the house.

~

Weeks passed by and the chill in the air got stronger. Gahyeon left at least once a week at night to change forms. You knew she hated taking off the pendant. You thought about what Arem had said, about how frightening it was not to remember what happened. You worried about her being all alone all night, about when she changed back and woke up somewhere strange.

But she seemed to be changing. She seemed more able to remember what had happened. More of it was sticking around and you thought maybe she was accepting it little by little. That seemed to be important and even though you felt you weren’t doing all that much at the moment, you were happy progress was being made.

You sipped at the tea in your mug as you sat on the couch, looking out the window at the colours of fall, still only a few leaves on the ground but brilliant colours filling the top branches, as if meeting the fiery sky at sunset. Gahyeon had left to see her fiancé for the day. They didn’t meet all that much and for good reason but she seemed a little more excited about the whole thing recently.

Your name was called excitedly as the door flew open, Gahyeon with a bright smile on her face. Her happiness was infectious, tugging at your lips and making you giggle before you even knew what was so amusing.

“You had a good time I’m guessing?” You said.

“More than that,” she chimed. “I mean the visit was wonderful but that’s not what I’m excited about.”

“It’s not?”

Gahyeon shook her head, still grinning. “I changed, on purpose.”

“Wait really?!”

She nodded quickly, holding your hands. “I did, it was harder to change back but I did it on purpose and for the first time it was all so clear! I can remember everything, I was so aware, so in control this time.”

“Gahyeon, that’s awesome!” You smiled.

Gahyeon reached around beyond her neck and undid her pendant before handing it to you. You looked back and forth between her and the piece of jewelry, feeling a bit wary.

“I want to show you,” she said. “I want you to see it, it’s so cool.”

“A-Are you sure?” you asked.

Gahyeon got up off the couch, “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

You gripped the pendant tight in your hand as you got off the couch nervously. You watched as Gahyeon took a deep breath before curling forward, spotted fur sprouting from her body. She transformed before you, growing larger and stronger until she lifted her head.

Her eyes were still the same. They still looked like Gahyeon’s as you called her name nervously, unsure if she was really still there or if she had gotten overzealous. She regarded you curiously, stepping a little closer and sniffing the air. Your heart pounded out of your chest as you reached a hand forward cautiously.

Something in her eyes shifted, her expression growing colder. A low snarl passed her lips.

“G-Gahyeon?” You asked, stepping back. “H-Hey.”

Gahyeon started to stalk towards you and you scrambled back until you tripped on the uneven floor and fell backwards. She reacted to your quick movements, pouncing forwards as you covered your face with your arm.

Fabric tore and ripped and you let out a cry of pain as her claws sunk into your skin. She cut through the flesh of your stomach like butter, in a smooth swipe that left you dizzy, screams tearing out of your throat in pain and fear as blood flowed down your side.

Gahyeon growled louder and somewhere in the back of your mind, some small part of you trying to keep you alive remembered the pendant. You peered at her and brought the pendant up in front of you just in time to stop another swipe.

Gahyeon stumbled back and whined. You let out gasps as you tried to call her name and your hand came to cover your side, ending up covered in blood.

“Gahyeon, I know you’re in there, please,” your voice was weak and your brain foggy but it seemed to do the trick. Gahyeon’s eyes shifted again, full of sadness before she shifted back, growing smaller until she sat up from the floor, panting and distressed. She rushed forwards and grabbed the pendant, fastening it around her neck again, her hands shaking as she tried to speak and find something to help you.

“I-I” Her words didn’t seem to come out as she pressed part of her skirt to your side, trying to soak up the blood. “I- y-” 

“Gahyeon,” your voice was breathy. “I need s-something.”

“Y-Yeah,” she nodded quickly, pulling off the layer of skirt and left it with you as she rushed to the kitchen. You panted, the pain searing and setting your body on fire. You pressed the fabric into your side a little harder, knowing you were bleeding through it.

“Th-This,” Gahyeon brought a bottle to your lips. “It’ll help with the pain, a-and stop the bleeding.”

You drank it gratefully, feeling it sink through your body. The pain receded somewhat, though it still hurt. Gahyeon brought another bottle to your lips and you drank again, missing what it was but feeling a tightness in your stomach, groaning at the feeling.

“I-I have bandages.” 

“Okay,” you sighed, closing your eyes and feeling dizzy. You heard Gahyeon run off and come back before she pulled the fabric away from your side. You started to waver in and out as Gahyeon gave you apologies, “I’m so sorrys” falling off her lips as she covered the wounds in your side.

~

The trees grew more and more bare in the weeks that followed. Gahyeon could sense your tension but you weren’t sure how to let it slip away. With her pendant on she was safe, she wouldn’t hurt you, and she had apologized enough times for a lifetime. She also helped with your bandages and went out to get more.

The potions she gave you helped, they dulled the pain and helped it heal but even so as it healed enough to not bandage it it still seemed that a scar would be left over. You didn’t know how long it would last. What happened to your body here didn’t happen in real life, right? You couldn’t die, right?

You took more walks when you could, and Gahyeon usually tagged along. You knew she was worried about you going out on her own, even if she was too nervous to change around you anymore. She was treating you like glass but you knew she felt guilty about the whole thing.

“I never liked this part of fall,” you said, breaking the silence.

“No?” She asked.

“No,” you sighed. “I like when it’s bright and colourful. But when all the trees die and you’re just… waiting for winter.”

“I don’t mind winter out here,” she said. “It’s pretty when it snows, you’ll see.”

“It’ll be chilly,” you said, “but I can imagine it.”

Gahyeon nodded, moving a little closer as the breeze blew through. “What were they like, the other one like me?”

“Arem?” You asked. “She was nice, or she is I suppose. She was aware of herself better when she shifted, she said it took months of practice.”

“Was she- Was she okay? Like was going to be?”

“Gahyeon,” you said. “You can do this.”

“I keep thinking, what if I get married, and we’re there in the same house in the same bed? And what if I change in the middle of the night and suddenly I don’t remember who they are? What if they just look like a…”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be afraid.”

“How can I not be afraid?” She cried.

“No no,” you grabbed her hands. “What I mean is, I think you need to accept it. It’s a part of you. I know you’re scared, I would be too. But maybe, I don’t know finding some peace with it, accepting that it’s a part of who you are for better or worse. Maybe even making it better.”

Gahyeon was teary-eyed as she regarded you. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I don’t think you have to right now,” you said. “But maybe it would help, maybe it would let you feel more in control all the time.”

“What do you think happens if I never learn to control it?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I don’t know.”

~

The last of the leaves were still clinging to the trees as the first snowfall of winter came. Months had passed since you first arrived. Cold clung to the air and the fireplace burned almost constantly in the little cottage, keeping the two of you warm. Gahyeon had the door replaced eventually and the scars on your body remained, though faded as if older than they truly were.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Gahyeon called to you as you swung the axe down into the wood.

“It’s no problem,” you grunted, pulling aside the broken logs, now the right size for the fire.

“It’s rotten work,” she said. “It’s hard, you didn’t have to.”

“I’ve been living here for months,” You laughed. “Helping out is the least I could do.”

“Hey, when are you leaving, not that I don’t like having you or anything but, what’s your plan?”

You stopped, stretching out your back. “I’m here as long as I need to be, until I figure it all out.”

“You almost sound like Youngeun,” she muttered and you laughed.

“I- Look as crazy as it sounds I just get dropped into these places.” Gahyeon stopped and leaned against a tree, giving you a bemused smile. “I’m here until I’ve helped you and then I’ll go. I don’t really have any say over it.”

“You were sent to help me?” She asked. “Like an angel?”

You snorted. “I don’t know if I would say that, but yes I’m here to help. I mean I woke up here right before you showed up in my carnival tent.”

Gahyeon thought quietly for a moment and you put another log down to chop, wanting to get a few more done before it got too dark. Gahyeon said a few words to herself and you let her think, giving her time and space to do so as you chopped. A few more swings of your axe before you looked back up at Gahyeon.

And your blood ran cold.

Three wolves stood behind, haunches raised and lips pulled back in silent snarls as they stalked closer to her, no doubt looking for a tasty dinner and thinking they had found it.

“Gahyeon!” You screamed, stumbling back into the snow and pointed towards the beasts. She looked up and ducked down just before the first pounced. Your heart raced and you screamed as you lost sight of her and the wolves turned on you, stalking towards you, the snarls on their faces almost like twisted grins. 

“Gahyeon,” the name fell off your lips like a whimper as you ducked down as much as the snow would hide you, screaming as the biggest wolf pounced.

A streak of yellows and blacks streamed in front of you and the wolf howled in pain. Your eyes followed the sight to the large leopard that was growling and pinning the wolf to the ground before slashing at his face.

You couldn’t help the whimpers that came from you as you looked away from her to the other two wolves who had chased after and were biting at her. She seemed to throw them away easily. No match for her strength, though their attacks were persistent. You watched her bite and throw them off of her until a closer growl caught your attention and you noticed one of the three moving towards you.

“Gahyeon!” The screech burned your throat as you covered your eyes and heard the sound of another growl before the whimpering of the wolf. Your eyes searched and found it wounded and limping and Gahyeon stood between you and the wolves and let out a ground shaking roar.

The wolves whined, finally backing down, whining and lowering their heads before taking off in search of other prey. Gahyeon watched them until they disappeared and her growling quieted. She shook out her head before changing form in front of you, back to the small woman you knew.

“Come on,” she said, “Quickly in case they think it’s wise to come back.” Gahyeon supported you to your feet and helped you back to the cottage, trying to calm you the whole way.

~

The sun was streaming through the window but you didn’t wanna get up just yet. Your warm, fuzzy pillow was too comfy to just get up and leave. You nuzzled into it as you tried to shake the bad dream of wolves chasing you down from your mind, shifting as your pillow shifted.

As your pillow… shifted…

You sat bolt upright and gasped before clamping a hand over your mouth. The large, warm, fuzzy pillow was in fact a large leopard. Your brain tried frantically to parse out what was dream and what was real from the night before as she stirred, blinking and then lifting her head.

There was Gahyeon behind the eyes, but you stayed frozen. You had been here before. Had she learned enough? Or would she forget herself again?

Gahyeon let out a low, chattering sound and a sigh before dropping her head down again. She just seemed tired but you were still afraid to move. Then again if you were remembering last night correctly she had saved you from those wolves, and lost track of her pendant in the process. She seemed to not be able to sleep, maybe from your own nerves, but she lifted her head again with a grunt before nudging you.

You let out a nervous chuckle and watched as she cautiously placed her head in your lap and gazed up at you with sweet eyes, almost as if pouting. You gently brought your hand to her head and petted her, earning a low rumble from her that had to be akin to a purr.

You stayed like that for a while, smile spreading across your face at her gentleness. She shifted over, chattering again until you scratched her chin and purring more loudly when you did so.

“You’re only staying in this form to get affection,” you teased.

Gahyeon let out a disgruntled grumble as she stood slowly before nudging you with her nose. You chuckled at her and watched her change back into her human self.

“I wasn’t, it was just nice and comfy and warm with all the fur.”

“Sure,” you giggled.

Gahyeon rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go and find my pendant.”

“What happened to it anyway?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” She said. “I threw it off and didn’t even think about it. I just needed to make sure you didn’t get eaten.”

“Thanks for saving me,” you smiled.

A grin tugged at her lips. “Will you be here when I get back?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” you said.

“Well then,” she took your hands. “Thank you.”

“For getting into mortal danger?” You chuckled.

“No,” She hissed, playfully whacking your arm. “For believing I could do it.”

“Hey you just needed someone to believe until you could,” you said.

“Yeah I think so,” she nodded. “At any rate, I couldn’t have done it without you. So, thank you, guardian angel.”

“You’re welcome,” you giggled. Gahyeon pulled you into a tight hug.

“And if I don’t see you again, I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” you replied.

Gahyeon let go of you and grabbed a coat before heading out the door with one last smile back your way. Even as she did you sucked in a big breath as the darkness wrapped around you. The words “A souvenir” echoed through your mind in a familiar voice as you were swallowed in shadows.

~

initiative inner voice

~

You breathed in deeply, feeling like you were getting better at holding your breath. You thanked the soft bed under your body as you turned your head and watched the card disappear, the sight no less eerie than the first time. You rested a hand on your stomach as the paper appeared and felt something odd beneath your shirt.

The blood in your veins ran cold as you lifted it back to reveal old claw scars on your stomach.

Masterlist

[merakiaes]

To begin with, I'm full of contradictions, utterly boring, very insecure and highly complicated. I would say my strongest personality traits are my kindness, calmness and sympathy. It's almost impossible to scare or upset me, because I always see the good in a person and recognize where anger, frustration and despair come from. There's no cruelty in me at all. I'm open and impartial towards everything and everyone, without any judgment or prejudice. I also have a calming/grounding effect on other people and animals, which is great because I honestly love all sorts of animals (I'm also a vegetarian because I refuse to intentionally hurt any animal). I'm always well-meaning and there to help others. I despise people who enjoy the suffering of others, just because they have the 'power' to. I'm very open-minded and I think that every opinion matters and that whatever someone has to say is important, at least to them and therefore for me. I will never ignore someone's sorrows and suffering and I try my hardest to help and comfort as best I can. But, even though I see the good in everything, I'm very insecure myself and have little love and understanding for myself. I have a very bad self-esteem and not a particularly positive self-perception, which mostly defines my actions. It makes me believe that I'm a burden to others and that I annoy them. I feel like I'm not "worthy" of love/there's nothing lovable about me, that there are too many problems in contrast to the little good things. Nevertheless, I would never change myself for anything or anyone, I am who I am. This is one of many reasons why I try to stay away and distance myself from others. For me, dealing and interacting with people is really difficult, because I'm so clumsy and nervous around them and easily feel like I'm making a fool out of myself. Another reason is that I fear to be rejected and thrown aside when someone sees how boring, problematic and annoying I actually am. It's also hard for me and incredible frustrating that I'm unable to articulate myself the way I want to, so that I mostly stay silent. And, since I'm a very quiet and rather shy person, I prefer people who initiate the contact and talk a lot/like to talk, who do the talking instead of me, but without intending to suppress myself. You would be surprised how timid and reserved I am, I'm sure you wouln't notice me in a room full of people if it wouldn't be for my different appearance (I'm always wearing only black, have dyed my hair a little and two ear piercings). Because I'm easily sad and not a funny/joking person, I like and enjoy people who are not too serious themselves. And I'm the most loyal person you'll ever find, once you earn my trust, I'll always be on/by your side, no matter what. I've always felt alienated from my surroundings, like I don't belong anywhere, like I'm the only cat in a room full of dogs. That's probably why I have a soft spot for the weirdos, outcasts, loners and "crazy" ones. Though, in my opinion, the definition of normal, crazy and real are very subjective. My whole life I've felt kinda judged, misunderstood and unwanted. People often falsely think that my unassuming nature is naivity and take my social-insecurity for aloofness and coldness. I'm also quite opinionated and aware of what I want, how I feel and who I am. I'm often questioning my surroundings, the traditions and rules and if I believe that something is wrong, I have absolutely no problem challenging others, even authority. I'm a perfectionist, which often leads me to overthinking and that can be equally good and bad. I'm absolutely clueless in romance and totally oblivious to flirting because I'm 100% inexperienced in this stuff, but I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic.

I crave physical touch and am literally melting into and bathing in any sort of touch, but I'm way too reluctant to initiate it. I'm rather sentimental with things given to me by people who I deeply care for, no matter how small or insignificant they may seem. Sadly, I'm not good with words to repeat how much someone means to me and I never know how to show/act on it either. I'm lazy, forgetful and sleepy most of the time and too much people, noise and light is exhausting for me. That's why I prefer to cozy up at home, watching a movie or TV show and listen to music. Music is my greatest passion, even if I can't sing or play an instrument. It's the most calming and therapeutic when it comes to my anxiety and depression and I could never live a day without it. When no one is around, I even sing along really loudly and off-tune. The meaning music has for me is hard to put into words, but it's my sanctuary for when I feel like my thoughts and feelings are suffocating me. You will never see me in the street without headphones in my ears and even when I'm at home there's music playing almost all the time. I could talk for hours about music and what it means to me. My taste in movies is more horror, fantasy and drama and in music it's rock, punk and pop, but for both I enjoy when it's themed around mental illness and real-life problems and when it's from the 80s and 90s. I like vintage things and would love to live in the 80's. I love the feeling of freedom and liveliness. My favourite weather is when it's gloomy and more cold, when it's pouring big fat drops and the air smells like rain and my favourite season is autumn because of the weather, colors, temperatures, flavors and overall aesthetic. I'm on the curvy-side and incredible insecure about it, although I really don't want to be. Once I trust you, I would love to talk for hours about music, movies, dreams, fears or anything alike and life in general, no matter how silly it may seems. I have a fascination for dark and macabre things. I also love to take late-night strolls, to gaze at the nightsky and literally feeling the freedom and infinity. My favourite colours are dark green, black, dark purple and gold. I love the scent of peppermint, cinnamon and the forest. I love plants and would love to decorate my home with them, but unfortunately I don't have a green thumb at all. I like ivy, lavender and roses the most. I wish I could live peacefully in a cottage, surrounded by a forest and many animals. I feel little conected to where I lwas born/am living and I'm deeply convinced that my soul belongs in the UK, always has.

+  Could I please request a male matchup for Stranger Things and Peaky Blinders? I'm female, she/her. (I know you said that no amount is too much, but I still hope that I didn't exaggerate here - and I'm sorry for any spelling and grammatical errors, english isn't my first language)

STRANGER THINGS

I ship you with Billy Hargrove!

This is somewhat of a controversial ship that can be both good and bad depending on the circumstances. I’m choosing to look at it from a positive perspective so bear with me.

Kindness, calmness and sympathy are your strongest personality traits and that is just what Billy Hargrove needs to bring him back to reality, because it is my opinion that the Billy we’ve gotten to see is only the version of himself that he has allowed us to see. 

Billy’s automatic response when someone tries to help him by digging into his emotions is to get angry and defensive. Why? Because he’s put so much time and effort into building up walls around himself in order to not have to feel all his pain over and over again, and every time someone comes and pokes holes in those walls, he snaps.

He’s so used to not being loved and being abandoned that he automatically assumes that people who come off as supportive are going to leave eventually, too. So in his mind, he might as well scare people away at once so that he doesn’t get his hopes up and ruins the walls that he’s put so much into. That’s just easier for everyone.

But although he succeeds in pushing people away by getting angry and therefore succeeding in protecting himself from more heartbreak, he still feels a subconscious guilt when seeing how much he scares people, because that’s how scared he is of his dad. He treats people like his dad treats him and it destroys him to live with that, but he just doesn’t know how to do anything else at this point because his only purpose in life now is to uphold those walls, by whatever means necessary, so while I don’t condone his behavior, nor do I support mentally abusive relationships, I do from a psychological standpoint, think that it would help Billy that you don’t get scared easily. 

Seeing people get so scared, even if it’s by his own doing, breaks him down more and more every time, a little at a time, and it would change everything for him to be met by something else than that immediate fear. He would be faced with an outcome he hasn’t experienced before, which is being seen as something more than a monster; or more specifically to him, being seen as something other than a replica of his dad, because I can guarantee you that that’s something that keeps him up at night. 

Anyone can say that they understand, that they know where someone is coming from, that even if they don’t understand, they can see a persons reasons. But a lot of the times, this is just a case of empty words. Billy knows this and that’s another reason that he doesn’t let people in when they try to get closer, and he proves his point by getting angry at them and seeing the way they react. All of them get scared and leave. Rightfully so, but it also does proves the point in his logic. 

You say that you have a calming and grounding effect on people which is something he’d really benefit from, as well. He naturally surrounds himself with people who match his energy; impulsive, wild, preferably illegal, with little to no thought of consequences. That’s his form of self-harm - to constantly surround himself with things and people that are bad for him, who likes his bad boy-image and encourages his bad behavior.

What he needs is something else entirely; and that is to be in a calm environment. He needs silence, peace, and even if just for a while, just anything but excitement. He needs someone who won’t encourage his chaotic and reckless lifestyle like most of the people he hangs out with do, in order to bring himself back down to earth and find himself again. 

Once he actually meets someone genuine and like-minded and realizes that they’re there to stay, he’d most likely accept the help he’s offered. And after that, he would be so loving toward his significant other because he’d never want her to feel like he does. He would want her to be the happiest person on the planet and if there’s something I’ve learned, myself, it’s that the people who love the hardest are usually the ones who have been loved the least. So if you were feeling insecure, he would lift you up and compliment you constantly, always let you know how beautiful and amazing he finds you, and how lucky he is to have you. He’d be so overly loving and appreciative toward you and everything you do that you’d rarely even have the time to get stuck with your self-doubt.

He, too, feels like he’s undeserving of love, because when has he ever been shown differently? So I also think it would give him somewhat of a wake-up call to see someone he cares about, or just such a kind, genuine person in general, feeling like that. At the same time, I also think he’d react strongly to the way you accept yourself and refuse to change for anyone despite all the self-doubt you have, because that requires an insane amount of strength. It would probably inspire him a lot to be better, himself.

Billy would, most definitely, be the one to initiate contact with you just like he does every other female in his presence. Maybe it’s my mind being too mushed together by all the fanfiction I’ve read over the years, but I feel that once he got to know you, he would just fall for you on the spot. Not just “fall”, either. He’d trip on his shoelaces, fall on his face and roll down a flight of stairs once he finally managed to wrap his head around the fact that you understand, that you care and that you’re not going anywhere.

After initiating contact and coming to that realization, he wouldn’t mind just spending time with you in silence. All that talking he does is nothing more than a façade he’s put up to feel less out of place, less pathetic about being so weak around his dad, but it’s not the real him at all. Billy has been cold and guarded for so long that he, just like you, no longer knows how to communicate his feelings through words, either. Instead, he tends to show his emotions through his actions, so I can imagine there being a lot of silence. Mutual silence.

Would he still enjoy having genuine conversations with you? Yes, absolutely. As would he never hesitate to joke around if you felt down and needed to laugh. But he would also feel safe enough with you to be silent and vulnerable, without feeling that pressure to always keep talking and acting like he does when he’s with other people. He pretends to be comfortable, pretends to fit in, but in reality, he feels out of place, too. He’s felt unwanted, judged and misunderstood for most of his life just like you describe yourself to have done.

He has fooled around with a lot of girls but he’s still touch-starved, because no-strings-attached relations doesn’t do anything for him other than provide a temporary distraction. It never gives him the emotional, sentimental, meaningful proximity that he needs, so you have in common to crave physical touch and it would be a mutual thing for the two of you to show your emotions through touch rather than words.

You also have your love for music in common, and it’s so fitting because you like the same genres, which would only give him another way to be free around you. I can just imagine the two of you belting out your highest notes, totally off-key, while blaring rock music in his car.

To finish it off, loyalty is something he values above everything which is why he can never really hold on to long-term relationships or friendships. The only person who has ever been truly loyal to him was his mom, and even she made the active choice to leave him in the end, which is where his commitment issues stem from. So the fact that you’re genuinely loyal will be a complete game-changer. 

He, too, loves the feeling of being free, and I have no doubt in my mind that the two of you would find ways to feel that way together without him going back to his old, problematic methods.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I definitely don’t condone his behavior nor do I encourage anyone to stay in a toxic and abusive relationship, whether it be mental, emotional, or physical abuse. I don’t like savior-complexes and I don’t encourage anyone to get together with a “bad boy” because they think they can “cHaNgE HiM”.

But I feel like Billy is one of those cases that has certain circumstances that makes him a bit of an exception. He’s made some reaaaally bad choices and treated people very badly which he still has to be held accountable for, but going forward, he could be an amazing person if only he got reminded of what it feels like to be loved. Because at this point, he’s probably completely forgotten it, and living without love for so long will drive any person into madness.

I still wouldn’t recommend someone heading into a relationship with him solely for the purpose of “changing him”, but I do think that, if the right person came along on random, these changes wouldn’t at all be impossible.

The way he behaves toward people can’t be excused and he still needs to own up to his behavior and mistakes, but I think we’ve gotten it proven at the end of last season that he actually does want to be better and that all he needed toward the end was to be shown some genuine love in order to be able to make that change. 

 PEAKY BLINDERS

I ship you with Arthur Shelby!

Arthur is like Billy in a lot of ways, so this is a controversial one too for the same reasons, but Arthur is also very different.

While Billy has built up tall, strong, practically non-penetrable walls around himself to avoid having to feel anything, Arthur is much more emotional and aware of his mistakes since he never really managed to use his trauma to build up a protective wall, but rather just let them pile up without knowing how to properly process them so that he’s now stuck having to feel it all at once with no way out. 

He was left really vulnerable after his dad left which, I think, made him more open for the trauma he experienced during the war. It is my honest opinion that, had his dad still been in the picture, he would’ve been a lot less unstable today. But, as we know, his dad left him and his siblings, and that was the first trigger to a long line of domino bricks.

At this point, he’s so damaged that he has no sense of self-worth, whatsoever. He doesn’t feel worthy of love or a good life even though he wishes and dreams of it, so once he actually finds someone who wants to be with him, he falls hard, and would do anything in his power to be the best possible partner.

He’d be so romantic, so loving, so eager to please that he’d agree to pretty much anything requested of him. He’d abandon all of his other responsibilities to just live a happy life with you so living peacefully in a secluded area in a cottage with lots of animals is not something he would be opposed to at all. Nor would taking late-night strolls or staying in with you when everyone else goes out to drink be, because I’m certain that the only reason he drinks is because being sober on his own is too painful. 

His way of acting out with anger and violence is nothing more than a product of his environment. Every day, every sound, every smell, every person he surrounds himself with, are triggers to his multiple traumas and the longer he surrounds himself with chaos, the more he’s going to lose himself to his anger – because anger is the only emotion through which he knows how to handle his trauma, as no one has ever tried helping him onto a healthier road of recovery but rather just told him to “suck it up”.

So the fact that you’re so kind, calm, sympathetic and understanding, and that you’re recognize where anger, frustration and despair comes from, that you’re open and impartial toward everyone without any judgment or prejudice, and also have a calming and grounding effect on people would just help him so much. Everyone else that he frequently surrounds himself with are big parts of the problem that is his mental illnesses and aggressive and violent tendencies. They do nothing to help but rather encourages it and fuels the fire so they can use his anger for their own winning.

He’s just constantly told to suck it up, be a man, have a drink or three, snort a line of cocaine, blah blah blah. The way his mental instability is treated by his inner circle is the literal embodiment of toxic masculinity and does nothing to help his case, because then he starts hating himself even more for feeling all the emotions that he does.

So, once given the correct support that he needs, he would pay you right back by making sure you never go a day without being told how amazing you are and how lucky he is to have you. He would throw, or at least try to his absolute best ability to do so, all of your insecurities out the window before they’d even gotten the chance to get through the door. He would literally adore you and, metaphorically speaking, be ready to eat straight out of your palm if told to do so.

All he needs is kindness, understanding and most of all patience, because while he is a work in progress, he is trying.

[marvelyningreen]

It Will End in Rain

Part 3 - Cloudburst

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[Summary: They were letting Skye stay at the school while she recovered. Another couple days, and she’d be on her way. But leaving was for the best. If she was back on the road, she wouldn’t have time to think about the things Logan and Hank said.

Warnings: mild language, allusions to emotional abuse

Notes: Generally follows XCU canon. ]

It was pretty quiet in this part of the mansion, which was surprising, considering the fact that the place was a boarding school. Maybe the students roomed in another part of the building, and this area was mainly for guests.

Skye seemed to be the only one at the moment, though. Aside from the people who’d come to see her and what she assumed were custodians passing through, it was quiet. Peaceful, even. Like the world’s ritziest bed and breakfast.

Skye wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but, she had to admit, this place wasn’t anything like she’d guessed. She’d envisioned, well… a military school, more or less. Mutants lived here and trained to be heroes, right? She’d expected things to be all regimented and stuff, or at least businesslike and industrial, like it’d been with the -

Nevermind that.

While looking out the window once, she saw those twins walking around the grounds, talking and laughing with a red-haired woman and a tall blond man. Their parents, maybe? Were there whole families here? Definitely different than what Skye expected.

The people weren’t really what she’d expected either. Well, she hadn’t met too many of them, but still. Those twins were pretty thoughtful to stop by before class to bring her a radio and some books. (The Lord of the Rings trilogy, no less. Skye got the feeling that Billy somehow knew she was a fantasy nerd.)

And she was surprised that Professor Xavier was so… personable? Whether he actually cared or not, he at least did a good job of acting like an approachable person, which you wouldn’t really figure from one of the most powerful mutants alive. Still, it was really unnerving to be around somebody who could hear everything she was thinking. Maybe the other people at the school were used to it, but Skye had a hard time relaxing when he was in the room.

And then there was that doctor, Hank.

Back when she was seventeen, when she’d gotten stabbed, her own parents were out of town. It was Michael’s mom (the only person who knew the truth about what’d happened to them) who invited Skye to stay at their house while she recovered. It must be a parent thing, Skye had thought. Skye was the same age as Michael, and she was mothering by proxy or something.

Anyway, she got the same sort of impression from Hank. She’d noticed the wedding ring he wore. He must have kids around her age.

Logan at least sorta made sense. He’d been suspicious of her at first, which was fair, and he was all practical and blunt. Skye didn’t think she would’ve gone back with him if he hadn’t been. But on the other hand, he was the reason she spent most of her time asleep.

If she was asleep, she didn’t have time to think. Logan’s words kept eddying in her mind.

‘They used you.’

He was wrong. She was part of a team. She’d volunteered for it; all of it. You can’t say somebody was used when everything was their choice all along.

‘Didn’t they ever train you?’

No disrespect to Professor Xavier, but his family was old money. Of course they could afford to keep up this mansion and make sure everybody got top tier equipment and training. Not everybody was so lucky. The GLX had to make do with what was available to them. It just so happened that some mutants’ abilities were better suited to combat, and Skye’s weren’t.

‘Yeah, that’s not true.’

How on earth would she know that? Her powers manifested to do one pretty specific thing. Why would she think that the worked any other way? It wasn’t like there was some sort of handbook for this. It wasn’t like she could ask anybody.

Well, maybe if she’d been here she could’ve.

Skye wouldn’t deny that she was curious about the place. Xavier’s school was almost a place of myth, at least to her. If not for the busted ribs, maybe she’d –

No, probably not. This probably wasn’t the kind of place somebody could just wander around on their own, especially not a stranger. And it wasn’t like she could ask somebody to show her around either. Sure, the doctor had offered, but he was just being polite. They were all probably pretty busy with school stuff and X-Men stuff.

She’d have to be content with venturing into the hall at night. It was kinda nice, actually. It had that mysterious sort of feeling you got from walking through an empty school or mall or someplace. Once when she was at the window-seat, Skye saw somebody walking through the garden – the groundskeeper, probably – who waved up at her before continuing on. Other than that, she didn’t see or hear a single other person.

From what she saw of the mansion – and that was just her room and the hallway – it felt sorta cozy. The wood-paneled walls, the plush carpet, the sconce lighting – it all gave an impression of warmth. It felt old, too, which was weird, considering this place had been destroyed and rebuilt in the 80's.

Maybe she’d just read too many books, but it all made her imagination run wild a little. A place like this should have an attic full of strange old treasures, and a big beautiful library, and secret passages, and maybe even stables. But that was just silly to think about.

It wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. They’d been letting her stay while she recovered, and it’d been a week already. Another three or four days, and she’d have to be on her way.

Too bad. Aside from her curiosity, Skye was gonna miss this place for more practical reasons. It’d been so long since she’d slept in an actual bed. Cheap motels hardly counted, and mostly she’d slept in her car, and then on the ground wherever she could find a campsite.

But maybe leaving was for the best. She wouldn’t have time to think about what Logan said – and now, what Hank said, too.

Skye hadn’t been thinking when she reached down for that bag. She’d only meant to help, but apparently that was wrong. It wasn’t the pain in her ribs that almost pushed her over the edge; it was Hank telling her not to help. Right. She should’ve known better.

It was just the same in the GLX.

She was useless when she wasn’t using her powers. She didn’t have any special skills or knowledge that’d be helpful in planning, so she was mostly told she didn’t have to be involved in it. She really didn’t see anyone else much, outside of when she was helping during a mission.

Everybody was grateful for what she did. They told her so all the time – told her how much they needed her and how much they valued her presence in the team.

‘They used you.’

No, they didn’t. She did what she had to for the good of the team. She’d follow orders, do what she was asked to, and protect her teammates. She did everything they asked, even if it meant getting hurt herself. She volunteered for it.

She volunteered for it.

… Oh, God.

Skye flinched at the sudden knock at the door. She stood up, feeling only a slight echo of an ache in her ribs as she did, and went to the door.

It was the doctor again. No bag this time, though.

“Good morning,” he said, his bedside-manner smile fading as he looked at her face. “Are you alright?”

Damn it. Skye forced all of her frantic, horrified feelings into a tight ball in her chest until her poker face was back in place.

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you need something?”

“Well, if you’re feeling up for it, I was wondering if you’d take a walk with me.”

Skye blinked. “Why?”

Wrong answer. She should’ve just said no and he would’ve left her alone.

“First of all, you’ve recovered enough that a little exercise would do you some good,” said Hank. “And secondly, you haven’t seen this place in the daylight yet. I thought I might show you around. What do you say?”

It was still fairly early in the day. Everybody would be busy with class and stuff, wouldn’t they? She wouldn’t have to see or talk to anyone – just pretend to listen to the tour. She could handle that. She could.

“Alright,” said Skye.

Hank’s smile brightened again, and she followed him down the hall.

He led her through the mansion, down stairs, past rooms – all the while mentioning details about each location. Skye nodded absently along, not processing a word he said. Her thoughts were spiraling.

Years. Years.

She’d been with the GLX for years. This Logan guy picked up in minutes what she hadn’t figured out for most of her twenties. How had she never noticed? What was wrong with her?

‘They used you.’

‘I volunteered.’

Stop it. Stop it. Just stop.

“Skye?”

She looked up sharply. Hank was watching her like he expected some sort of answer. To what question, she had no idea.

“I’m… I’m sorry?” she said hesitantly.

They’d stopped walking at some point, and were now in a hallway that Skye couldn’t remember seeing before. It was on the first floor, by the looks of it. Hank’s hand rested on one of the doors.

“There’s something I wanted to talk with you about,” he said. “Would you come in here for a moment?”

“Sure.”

Hank opened the door, and Skye’s heart sank. It lead to some sort of study or office, and inside it waited Logan and Professor Xavier.

Never had Skye been so acutely aware that Professor Xavier was a telepath. She did everything she could to avoid making eye contact, like that’d help somehow. It didn’t matter. He knew. He knew. He knew.

“Please, sit down and join us,” he said.

Skye didn’t think she’d ever felt more on edge in her entire life. She knew she shouldn’t. These people had been nothing but hospitable, right? They probably just wanted to make sure she knew not to go around blabbing any secrets – like she’d ever do that – and then she’d be free to go. Maybe even leave a couple days early. She was mostly okay, after all.

She sat down on the couch the professor had gestured to, wondering if she looked as tense as she felt. Hank sat on a nearby chair, while Logan stayed standing. Too badass to sit, probably. Fair enough.

“How are you feeling, Ms. Schultz?” the professor asked.

“Fine, thank you,” said Skye.

She was lying. She was lying and he knew it. Before she could spiral further, Hank spoke up.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting to leave soon, then,” he said. “Is there anywhere in particular you’re planning to go?”

There it was. Well, at least the professor would know she wasn’t lying about what she said next.

“Nowhere in particular,” she said. “Just south before it starts getting colder. You don’t have to worry about me, though. I won’t tell anybody that I was here.”

Hank looked perplexed for a second, sharing a glance with Logan.

“That’s not- I mean, we appreciate that, of course,” said Hank, “But that’s not why I was asking. If you aren’t headed anywhere, I was – that is, we all were – wondering if maybe you’d like to stay here instead.”

And then it was Skye’s turn to look perplexed.

“Why?” she asked, flatly.

The word was out of her mouth before she realized how rude she sounded. Really, though, it was an honest question. Why on earth would they want her of all people to stick around? Hank didn’t seem offended.

“This place has been a home to many people who’ve needed it,” he said.

Like she did. Is that what he meant to say? Skye felt her face flush.

“It’s our understanding that you were not well-treated during your time at the GLA,” said the professor.

Logan scoffed. “Understatement of the century.”

​​ ‘They used you.’

The professor shot him a look, and Logan shrugged and fell silent again. Skye’s jaw tightened.

“They called me Proxy. That was my codename – did you know that?” Defiantly, she looked Professor Xavier in the eyes. “I’m sure you did.”

The barb fell flat, of course. She didn’t even get the satisfaction of shocking him, because he knew exactly what she was going to say. It just made her angrier.

Logan stepped closer, holding up a hand. “Just take it easy, kid.”

“And why should I?” Skye snapped.

Suddenly, she was on her feet again, glowering up at Logan. He was bigger than her. Stronger, too. She didn’t care.

Logan, at least, seemed a little taken aback, but he didn’t back down either.

“Simmer down, alright?” he said. “We just want to help.”

“And what makes you think I need your help?” Skye fired back. “Just because it took you ten minutes to figure out something that I didn’t pick up on for almost ten years? Because I wasted all that time – years of my life – on people I thought were my friends?”

“Skye-” Hank tried to interject, but Skye didn’t let him.

“I mean, how stupid would someone have to be to fall for something like that?” She was speaking far too loudly. She knew it. She couldn’t stop. “And if somebody was that stupid, they’d deserve what happened to them, right? They’d deserve it because they should’ve known better. So I deserve what happened. That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

Skye’s heart was hammering in her chest. She could feel her pulse pounding in her ears as she glared at the others. Why did she say all that? Why couldn’t she just stop talking?

There wasn’t any way back from this. There wasn’t any positive direction this conversation could take from here. There was no way out. There was-

“Skye.”

The professor’s voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. Her focus fixed on him – his outstretched hand, his gentle tone.

“The only person who’s said any such thing is you,” he said, moving closer. “No one here believes that. And I don’t think you truly believe it either, do you?”

Did she? Shakily, Skye sat back down, her gaze drifting towards the floor.

“I… I don’t,” she said quietly. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t-”

Skye’s throat tightened, choking anything else she might’ve said. She curled in on herself, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed. She felt the professor’s hand caress the back of her head, stroking her hair like he was comforting a child.

It was worse. It felt so much worse now. Had it always been this bad? Had she just never noticed it before someone pointed it out to her?

It was worse, and she wanted to run and she wanted everything to stop. She wanted them to care and she didn’t. She wanted something – anything – to make sense.

She felt so stupid. Shouting at them, throwing a fit, breaking down crying like a little girl – if they weren’t tired of her already, they would be after this.

You know that isn’t true either, she heard the professor’s voice in her mind.

Slowly, the tears subsided. Skye felt someone sit down on the couch beside her, and she looked over to see Hank offering a box of tissues. She mumbled a thank-you as she took a few, wiping at her eyes and blowing her nose.

She glanced up to see Logan still standing close by and looking, well, worried more than anything.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Logan shook his head, smiling faintly. “Don’t sweat it. I know it’s not me you’re mad at. At least, not mostly.”

She’d misread him that first night, when he and the professor came to talk to her. She thought his reaction was one of disdain, but she was starting to suspect that he was just worried then, too. Only he’d handled it about as well as Skye had handled herself just now.

Was she mad at the GLX? Yes. And no. She was still mad at herself, even though she knew she shouldn’t be. It was hard to know what to feel. She wasn’t really surprised to hear the professor weigh in.

“It’s alright to feel conflicted about all of this, or overwhelmed by it,” he said. “One could hardly be expected to process it all at once.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Skye. “Why do you want me to stay?”

The professor smiled, tilting his had slightly. “Why not?”

Oh, he was a teacher, alright.

“I don’t know how to do anything. I’m not smart. I can’t fight. I have a B.A. in English, I mean…” She shrugged self-consciously. “I really don’t have anything to contribute.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s true at all,” said Hank.

Skye grimaced, nodding in Logan’s direction. “He said it. I let myself get used as a human shield for years, and that’s all.”

“And you know what that tells me?” Hank leveled an earnest gaze at her. “It tells me that you care. You wouldn’t have gone through all of that if you didn’t. And that’s why I’m asking you to stay, because we care about you, too.”

“We’re not gonna ask you to fight our battles for us, kid,” said Logan. “Just stick around here for a while. It’s better than trying to run from the past. Believe me, I know.”

Part of Skye wanted to ask him for his story. But not right then. Maybe it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, anyway.

“You’re saying I can just… stay,” Skye said slowly. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” said the professor.

“I don’t want to be a freeloader-” Skye protested.

“Then you may earn your keep, if that’s what you’d like,” said the professor, smiling. “There are always places that could use an extra set of hands. The library, perhaps?”

Skye would be lying if she said she didn’t like the idea. A library would be a calm, quiet place to work. She’d spent so much time hanging out in various libraries when she was a kid, and through high school, to the point that they felt more like home than her house did. The professor, of course he must know that. But -

“Well… I mean, I don’t know anything about being a librarian,” she said.

“For now, all you’d need to do is keep things in order. Return books to the shelves, maintain the records of who’s borrowed which items – that sort of thing. The rest can be learned.”

That sort of grunt work would be manageable. Better yet, nobody would expect her to use her abilities there.

“If you’re sure…” she said, eyeing the professor hesitantly, half-certain that he was going to change his mind.

Professor Xavier extended a hand to her. “Welcome aboard, Skye.”

Skye. Not ‘Ms. Schultz.’

It was silly, but hearing the Professor Charles Xavier address her by name made her feel like she belonged, a little.

… And remembering that he could hear everything she was thinking made her wish the floor would just open up and swallow her already.

At least the professor was polite enough not to say anything. He just chuckled a little as he released her hand.

“We’ll see to all the paperwork for getting you on the payroll later,” he said. “And I’m sure Hank would be happy to show you the library itself.”

Hank nodded. “Of course. I could show you right now, if you’d like. Why don’t we take the scenic route? You look like you could use some fresh air.”

He wasn’t wrong. Skye felt the particular kind of exhausted you only feel after having a full breakdown. Some sunlight would feel fantastic, and after that she’d like nothing more than to collapse in a heap and sleep for another five or so hours.

As she followed Hank out, Skye paused, turning back to the professor and Logan.

“Sir?” she said. Her gaze shifted between the two men; she was sorta addressing both of them. “Thank you.”

Logan nodded, and the professor smiled.

“You are most welcome, my dear,” he said.

Hank kept up a considerate silence as Skye followed him back down the hall and through an exterior door, into the gardens. She’d only seen them from the window at night.

In person, they were old fashioned – laid out in winding paths meant for strolling, lined with green hedgerows and a cheerful, colorful array of flowers. There seemed to be alcoves along the way, containing things like little fountains, and maybe a goldfish pond? It was surreal, like something out a story. Skye half expected to wake up at any second.

Hank walked slowly, letting her look around. Nice of him. He was tall enough that Skye would’ve had to move fast to keep up with him at a full stride. It’d sounded like – while all three of them were on board with it – Hank was the one pushing for her to stay at the school.

“Hey, uh… Hank?” Skye said hesitantly. “Thanks for, y’know, for sticking your neck out for me like that.”

“Well, you did say that you’d stay here until you were fully recovered,” said Hank, “And, speaking as a doctor? I’d say you aren’t quite there yet.”

“And when I am? What then?”

Even Skye was a little surprised at how cold and bitter her voice sounded just then. But it was an honest question. If she was able to work through all of… all of this, what would happen to her? Would they just let her stay working in the library? Would they send her away?

Hank paused, turning to look at her with a curious expression.

“May I make a blunt observation?” he asked.

Huh. And here she thought that being blunt was Logan’s job.

“Uh, sure,” said Skye.

“You seem to believe that nobody could care about you unless you did something to earn it, and – simultaneously – that no one will care about you if you aren’t in need,” he said, “Which is a lot of cognitive dissonance to walk around with. You don’t have to earn this, Skye, and no one is going to abandon you when you start to improve. You deserve to be cared about for your own sake, unconditionally.”

Skye frowned. On some level, she knew that had to be true. It was true for everybody else, of course. She wouldn’t dream of telling somebody else they needed to earn the right to kindness or respect. But not for me, though, was the certainty in the back of her mind. That doesn’t apply to me.

Seeming to understand her hesitation, Hank smiled.

“It’s alright if you can’t believe that just yet,” he said. “For now, the rest of us will believe it for you. And if you ever need a reminder, I’ll be happy to tell you that we do care about you, Skye, and you do deserve it.”

It still hurt, though. His kindness hurt. Skye wished it didn’t. Maybe if she stuck around there long enough, that feeling would go away. For now, though, she was just… tired.

“Y’know, the library’s not going anywhere,” Hank said. “If you’d rather stay out here for a while, that’s fine.”

In a weird way, Skye felt like she’d just get stuck again if she went back inside at that moment.

“I could stand to photosynthesize for a bit,” she said, which Hank seemed to find funny.

“I’ve been spending too much time indoors, myself,” he said. “And my only plans for the morning are going over some notes. Would you mind some company?”

Believe that he cared. Believe that he meant it. It was funny – and kinda sad – how fast a person could forget how to act around people. But after all that time alone? Skye could use a friend. And since Hank was offering…

“I wouldn’t mind,” Skye said, finding it hard to make eye contact as she did. “If you don’t mind that I probably won’t talk much.”

“Not a problem,” Hank said gently. “Find a good spot to sit, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Skye stood still for a moment after Hank had gone back inside. It was quiet out on the grounds. The September sun was warm that morning, and some of the trees dotted around the property were just starting to tinge scarlet. Birds sang here and there. On the road outside the gate, she could hear a single car going by.

This couldn’t possibly be real. It was too sudden, too incredible to really be happening – and to her, of all people. Skye wanted to tell someone. She wished there was someone she could talk to, so she could sort out everything that’d happened over the past week. She could call someone, tell them she was here. Her family? … No, not them. Michael, maybe, but she wasn’t sure she had his right phone number anymore.

A trace of loneliness stole back in. Of course. She couldn’t expect everything to get better all at once, right? That’s not how things worked. Didn’t stop her from wishing it was.

She had a feeling Hank would listen, if she asked. She would – when he came back.

Skye settled herself into a nearby lounge chair to wait. The sun felt wonderful, and she was so tired. Not the sort of tired that came from feeling like she needed to escape, but from feeling like she didn’t need to anymore. Skye yawned. She could fall asleep right there if she let herself.

-

Hank made a detour to stop by Skye’s room on his way back outside, to pick up one of the books she’d been reading, just in case. Judging by the placement of the bookmark (an old movie ticket stub) Skye was almost finished with The Return of the King. Out of curiosity, Hank opened the book to see what page she’d stopped on – partway through the chapter called The Steward and the King.

But when he returned to the gardens, he found Skye fast asleep.

Hank had seen many people come and go from the school – students and staff both. Many of them were hurt, or angry, or afraid when they arrived. Every single one of them had been able to heal, and to reclaim something of themselves that they thought was lost. That was Hank’s hope for Skye, too.

Setting the book down beside her, Hank quietly retreated to a nearby chair to focus on his work, and to let her rest.