#save me ginger go won . . . save me

[cinematheory]

GO WON Girls' Night, 2024

[abiatackerman]

Healing touches

The sound of the raindrops hitting the window glass and the soft scent of wet soil is creating a peaceful atmosphere in Levi's room. But neither Levi's mind or body is feeling peaceful. It's just the opposite.

Levi hates rain. He hates it because it creates mess, because it makes an expedition more disastrous, because he lost Furlan and Isabel because of it.

Now he hates it more because he has caught a damn flu because of it!

Levi's not the type who gets ill, he's the strongest soldier. But when he had to supervise the costly equipment of the survey corps being delivered by the government for 4 hours straight, under the rain, in a completely drenched state... He unexpectedly has gotten ill.

Cursing at the rain, he tosses over his bed. His body is burning. He can't even lay still because the mattress under him gets hot by his temperature which is making him feel more uncomfortable. His head is aching, body is feeling weaker and unwell than he ever felt before.

But sadly no one has noticed his severely feverish state. He's glad. He doesn't want anyone to notice anyway. He hates to show his vulnerability.

"Levi? May I come in?"

A gentle voice calls his name and then asks him in a more polite tone which is carrying affection and worries in it.

He's scared of this voice, of the owner of this voice. Scared of you, who never fails to enter his thoughts, makes his hormones go crazy and even changes his behaviour too. He gets more open, more vulnerable, more friendly, most importantly more possessive around the damn woman.

He hates you. Hates you for making him fall for you.

He gets up from the bed after another knock and curses as the cold air hits his body. He flimsily walks towards the door and opens it.

"Hey, you ok?"

Before he can even say anything, you ask. Then to Levi's utter surprise you place a hand on his forehead with worry. You flinch.

"Well, you're definitely not."

"You're a pain in the ass."

He grumbles, his voice raspy. You push the door open and enter his room. He looks at you with disbelief. How can he not? You're a woman and you're entering a man's private room without any care? The audacity!

"Well... I noticed you're not in your office. You rarely come to your room, you even sleep in the chair of your office. So I thought you might be sick since you worked in a wet state for a long time and it seems like I'm right."

You say as you look at him softly. Levi scoffs though he's happy knowing that you care for him. That you noticed he's not well.

"Why are you even bothering?

Hiding his happiness, he speaks in an annoyed tone. You ignore his complaint and reply in a commanding voice.

"You're gonna lay down on your bed with nothing but underwear and you'll keep this door open for me until I return. If you're not gonna listen to me I'll let the whole survey corps... No, the whole city know that the strongest soldier got ill due to silly rainfall."

You say and leave his room making Levi sigh. He smiles softly because your commanding behaviour always turns him on. He pulls his shirt off and hisses due to the cold weather. He doesn't take his trouser off though.

You return to his room with some medicine, a bowl of warm water and a piece of cloth. You hand him the medicine as you sit on his bed and dip the cloth into the bowl of the warm water. As you remove the blanket from his body, the scares of his chest gets revealed. Each mark tells a story. A battle he won, a life he saved. But now in this quiet room, he is just a man, vulnerable and feverish.

As the damp cloth touches his skin, he hisses. Because of the comfort of your touch, because of sensation.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He asks in a tense voice as you roll your eyes.

"Absolutely, like I don't want to sleep instead of serving a grumpy old man who refuses to take my care. Whatever, let's discuss your fear of ginger tea."

You reply in a sarcastic tone, your touch gentle as you wipe his chest. He scowls, but there is a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"It tastes like...."

"Shit, yes. Rich for the complaint coming from a man who takes tea five times a day. But it’s effective."

You finish.

"Anyways. It's effective. For the fever though, not for your grumpiness."

You say as you dip the cloth again and dap it on his abs, unable to hide the little pinkish blush from your face. Your hands are pressing and lingering on his skin more than necessary, to feel his strong muscles. Levi can't hold back a slight smirk, his body is already healing by your affectionate and caring touches. He keeps looking at you with a soft gaze filled with love as you forcefully tug his body's extreme temperature with every single touch. He smiles a little wider as he decides to reply again.

"First of all I don't drink ginger tea five times a day. I drink plain tea. Also I'm not grumpy. I'm..."

"Charmingly irritable?"

You reply immediately like you were waiting for him to say it. He huffs with amusement.

"Exactly. And you're an annoying persistent brat."

He speaks with affection as he touches your thigh over your clothes which is resting right beside his abdomen. You dip the cloth again, ignoring his touch.

"You're the strongest. A little flu won't defeat you."

You say softly and lean on him as you place the cloth on his forehead. You smile as you cup his left cheek, your thumb caressing his cheek. Another palm is wrapped around his neck, trying to suck his high temperature. He closes his eyes, his body completely relaxed.

"You're different, Not like the others."

He speaks in a soft voice tone, which he uses only with you. You chuckle.

"How so?"

You ask softly as you remove your hand from his cheek and press the back of the hand on his burning closed eyes.

"You care too much. It's annoying."

He replies, his hand still resting on your thigh. Not with a sexual intention, he's just touching you. Just to feel you. You smile as you lean closer to his face, you breath hitting his face.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

You speak as you notice Levi taking a deep breath. His eyes are still covered with the back of your hand as he tilts his head up a little, to reach you.

"You shouldn't."

Just as he mumbles, you softly press your lips against his, caressing his warm lips with yours, Tenderly and softly, with love.

"Stubborn woman, You're going to be the death of me."

Levi says as you remove your hand and lips from his face and look at you. You chuckle as you dip the cloth again.

"Only if you keep refusing my care. Now try to sleep. I'll stay, don't worry."

You say as you notice his tired state. He doesn't argue. He scoots closer to you, closing his eyes. His one hand wraps around your waist as he speaks in a low voice.

"Thank you, doll."

A/N: I got completely drenched by the heavy rainfall, on my way home from college. I had an umbrella but the rain was so heavy and the wind was so sharp that the umbrella couldn't save me. Now, I'm in my room, sitting by the window, watching the raindrops falling. Somehow the idea hit me and I quickly wrote a oneshot. Hope you all are gonna love it.

[chocsra]

chuuya wakes up to the unfortunately shared bed of your checked in hotel that the port mafia assigned you to. he's begrudgingly slept next to you, the redhead never wanted to invade a woman's privacy like that but doing anything else would be suspicious, it'd be odd for an alleged married couple not to share a bed.

he scans his eyes to your sleeping figure, your blanket rumpled all over your legs, the rest of your body sprawled out in a comfortable but messy position as your eyes remained fluttered shut. chuuya noticed the sliver of your shirt exposing your stomach as he swallows thickly with conviction.

he'd rather not touch you in any way but, he feels like it's wrong to just leave you there. so, with a calculated and gentle tug, he pulls the hem of your shirt down to cover your exposed stomach. unbeknownst to the ginger, your eyes flutter open as you rub them, your hair splayed out against the pillow lifting as you lift your head in confusion.

"what the fuck!--" you jolt up from his once cautious movements, and swiftly slap him on the face, making him wince, though written all over his face was: 'i deserved that.' you quickly pulled your shirt down and covered yourself with a blanket. "wait, no!-- it wasn't like that!" chuuya stumbles all over his words, a pink tint spreading to the apples of his cheeks and ears, even to the tip of his nose as he tries to explain himself frustratingly.

"i was just trying to pull your shirt down." he explains, rubbing his cheek pensively, watching as you glare at him suspiciously. "what was that look for then?' you retort, lips tugging into an annoyed frown. "hey, what am i supposed to look like when i wake up in the middle of my sleep?" the man huffs, looking around the dim room, trying to cover his embarrassment. you scan your eyes on him with malice, though you know he isn't that type of guy, nor did he seem anything but sincere. an overcoming silence fills the room, before you begrudgingly break it.

"why aren't you sleeping? aren't you worried about tomorrow's assignment?" you question quietly, the redhead scoffs in return, "me? no way. you just keep tossing in your sleep." he retorts, before attempting to lay down and sleep again, although, he jolts up again. "do you know much you move in your goddamn sleep?? you're keeping me up." chuuya claims, pointing around to the loose ends of the shared room, making you scoff in bafflement. "are you crazy?" you rhetorically question, biting your inner cheek pensively, "why are you even observing me while i sleep?"

from the former accused actions of the mafioso, he did seem like a creep right now. a pink tint blends in his cheeks a more noticeable shade once again as he scowls, "it's not my fault! you kept slapping me while i was trying to sleep." chuuya claims once again, making you scowl in return, "you're no better. you kept snoring and cursing out dazai!" the redhead huffs as if he were deeply offended by your words. "i wonder who you're gonna share a bed with in the future -- god save him!" chuuya grumbles in annoyance one more time before flopping to sleep, facing away from you, shutting his eyes as you do the same.

but chuuya definitely needs to be saved right now. for the countless times he's woke up tonight, now, your arms are curled around his waist, cheek squished against his back. "[Y/N].." the redhead mutters, pulling your arms away, feigning a raspy sigh as you halt but quickly return to encircling your arms around him. he drops his head from looking at you, shuffling his body so that you feel uncomfortable hugging him. but nothing works.

then your hands lock and tighten together like you're going to preform some sort of clinch, so chuuya quickly turns around to face you, making sure he doesn't die. "you're impossible.." he murmurs with a pout tugging on his lips - if blushing was a sport, chuuya would've won the Olympics because of you. your head was rested on his back, now it's his chest as you curl your arms around him even tighter.

the redhead brushes some loose strands of hair out of your face, sighing intently, before encircling his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer so you can't toss around and slap him in your sleep. if it meant to stop you from moving so much, chuuya would gladly have you sleep in arms, or so he tells himself, because he really wouldn't let anyone else pull that at all. he buries his face in your shoulder as he exhales, feeling the moon soak over the remaining hours of the night.

"don't be mad when you wake up, 'kay? this is your fault." chuuya mutters one last time before drifting off to a peaceful sleep, for the first time in forever since he's shared a bed with you. but, as grumpy as he his - he's lucky that he gets to hold you while doing so.

[lostintransist]

Liaison | Part 5 | Big Austrian Bastard

Check out part 1 here. Check out the rest of the story on AO3, up to chapter 33 over there.

After you won the bet with Ghost you became something of a tourist attraction. Every man who moved through the office would stop by your desk. Often you were on a phone but many would wait for a chance to ask how you won the bet with Ghost or if you had any dating advice. When Roach finally appeared back in the office after a month you asked him about it.

“Why does it feel like my desk is the hottest place to be in the office? Don’t these guys have paperwork to be doing?”

Roach replies, the clack of his keys not even faded before the message hits your screen.

>No one deals with Ghost like you do. Word has gotten around that you two fight and he loses more often than he wins.

“I can’t say that I think he has won once.”

>Exactly, plus everyone wants to witness another showdown. Anyone who wasn’t at the bar when you took that hot redhead home has heard the story about a dozen times from someone who has. Plus all the bets on what crazy nonsense you two will fight about next. And I know at least some of the guys want to know how you got such a bombshell to go home with you.

It takes three reads over the message before you are semi-confident that you understood everything.

“How much money is in these betting pools?” You rub a single finger against the headache forming behind your forehead.

>Would say a several thousand at this point.

“And what exactly was the defining moment that everyone decided to start taking bets?” You have a sneaking suspicion you know what it was.

>The lap dancer.

“Yeah,” you suck your teeth, “I thought that might have been it. Now for the record Roach and you tell this to anyone who will listen; I didn’t know he had already booked her. It’s not my fault she chose my pretty face over his ugly mask. And if he could string two sentences together to a woman that didn’t leave her wanting to slap him he wouldn’t have to pay for company in or out of his bed.”

>Behind you.

“Thanks, Roach,” you deadpan, “What a great job saving the day.”

Spinning around you see Ghost standing at the edge of your desk.

“You know I think you would pay for male company as well, I’m not really one to judge.”

Without a word, he drops several files on your desk and turns on his heel leaving you and Roach with more questions than before. Not picking a fight over your words felt outside of Ghost’s character. You tuck the information away for later. No one had died recently and there were no issues with any other companies or governments. No obvious reasons surfaced as to his dour mood.

Your phone buzzes with a text message from an unknown number.

>Can you make gingersnaps?

<Yes. Fresh ginger okay?

>👍

<Should have a dozen ready by 3.

Shoving your phone in your pocket you unplug your computer. You’ve figured out how to read emails while creaming butter by hand. Emails consumed you as grated ginger and sifted flour into your wet ingredients. Once the dough had started chilling you got a call. It took twenty minutes to look up the temperature conversion to turn on the oven since the other party had some extremely specific requests and questions that had you searching skills and cross-referencing times when certain guys would be free.

“Okay, for the final time, the timeline you need this job completed on will not allow for me to get Price and Reb on the same job. I have a different sniper who can complete the task or I can have a different lead but they are not available at the same time,” You wave at Harold as he leads a beast of a man down the hall. “At this point, you can trust me to schedule a team who can handle the task or I can send you the contact info for my counterpart at KorTac.”

You rattled off the number for KorTac as the cookies came out of the oven. Disconnecting the call you stretched your arms high and set about moving the cookies to the rack to cool down. In the five minutes they take to cool you reply to seven emails. God, you needed to talk to Kate about an assistant. The number of emails was becoming untenable. Storing the cookies in a dish you hide in your cabinet you take a quick picture of the completed request.

Cleaning up from baking had become its own soothing ritual. Once you have everything set out to dry you head back down the hall. You forget to send the text message since an email reply comes into a proposal you had just sent off.

“If those motherfuckers want to change up the date again…“ you mumble to yourself.

You kick something as you approach your desk. The beast of a man Harold had walked back to the desks is reclined in your chair and snoring. You can’t tell past the sniper’s hood draped across his head if he is asleep. Looking around you find the bay of computers empty. With a sigh, you set your computer awkwardly on the desk and remember your message about the cookies.

Sending the message a phone ding sounds before you. The man rouses, pulls a phone from his pocket, checks the message, and startles when he sees you standing at his feet.

“You the one who wanted the gingersnaps?” You ask carefully. One man in a mask you know could almost be considered a friend, the other firmly a foe.

“Ja.” He stands, towering over your frame.

Blowing a breath out your nose you make a decision. Better to have fewer foes if possible.

“Follow me, I’ll show you where I put your cookies.”

The only sound following you is the rare swish of fabric. Stepping into the kitchen you open the cabinet that held your cookies. Pulling them down you place them in his waiting hands. More men covering up like the devil would worm his way in through any flash of flesh. This man wore gloves too.

“Ah! Liaison you found the big Austrian bastard! We’ve been all over the office looking for him.”

If you hadn’t been standing so close to him you would have missed the flinch in the big man. Something about someone so strong-looking taking pain from words wormed into your heart.

“Tactic I swear to god if you don’t think before you speak.” You snap at him. “Obviously this man is on loan to the 141 and you know what we don’t do to people who are here to help us? We don’t insult them. It makes my job to fucking hard when you can’t keep your jackass statements inside.”

Tactic’s mouth shut with a click.

“Anything else clever to say?” you push.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to my friend here.”

“Sorry König.”

Spence, who had been standing behind Tactic, fled the moment your tone turned angry.

“Now unless you have a hard leave time I am going to sit down and enjoy some cookies with Konig and will deliver him to a conference room when we are done. Got a problem with that?” You aggressively lifted a brow at Tactic.

He backed out of the kitchen slowly.

“Whatever you say Liaison, sorry again König.”

With a huff, you turned back around and smiled up at the big man.

“Do you want to sit down and enjoy your cookies? I appreciate any feedback you can give.”

He looked you over, neither his expression nor his body language giving away his thoughts. König sits at one table, pushing out another chair with the toe of his boot. Settling in you wait to see what he does next. You fold your arms and rest them on the table.

“We friends?”

You find him watching you with guarded eyes.

“Do you want to be friends?”

“Ja. Name is König, not Konig.”

You repeat his name a few times to solidify the pronunciation in your brain.

“Okay, well you’re my first friend here so I will now text you random updates on my life. Feel free to do the same.”

Sitting in silence you tap out random beats on your fingers as König lifts his cowl to eat his treat.

“Da cookies are good.”

You send him a bright smile. “I’m glad you like them. Whenever you are ready I can deliver you to the conference room.”

He nods once before closing the container of cookies. He stands and slides the whole box into a side pocket on his pants. There isn’t even a bulge against the fabric. You can’t prevent a sneer at the now offensive pants.

The tension rises in König, you can feel it wafting off him in waves.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the patriarchy that doesn’t give me pockets I can hide cookies in without getting caught,” you fold your arms and puff air into your cheeks.

The booming laughter from König brings a smile to your face. It sounded rusty as if he didn’t get a chance to use it often.

Part 4

Masterlist @nicroyal02

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Gunslinger!Kyle Broflovski x Reader - lovin' what your lovin' does to me

Also available on ao3!

Summary: You and your partner, Kyle Broflovski, are both gunslingers, roaming the United States on horseback looking for fights to pick and bounties to collect. But when the promise of a better life becomes clearer on your horizon, can you really go for it, change everything you know and take roots for the first time in your life? You find out in the best way possible.

Warnings: Wild West AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Mating Press, Breeding, Impregnation, Mentions of Pregnancy, Period-Typical Sexism

A/N: There it is. My however-many-thousand-words-long tribute to one of my favourite gingers.

Fun fact, I'm actually as childfree as they go. Got a whole list in my brain of reasons why I really shouldn't have kids. However, if a certain ginger jew from Jersey knocked at my door asking me to be the mother of his babies, I'd just ask "how many?" and get right to fucking work on that.

If some parts of it sound weird, I really did write this instead of sleeping because I wanted it up ASAP and it's crazy.

“Look alive, my dear. We’ve arrived.”

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the gentle voice of my partner.

It was nearing the middle of summer and I was really feeling the dog days. The sun showed me no mercy as it tried to set ablaze what little skin I had showing to the world, which was basically just my unprotected arms. I had been on horseback since dawn without even mentioning a break, and hadn’t exactly considered that the weather at 4am, before sunrise, might’ve been slightly different from what I was currently experiencing now that the sun was at its peak in the sky.

I guess the only salvation when it came to my foolishness was that I wasn’t alone in it. As I turned to the man at my side, matching my horse’s slow speed on his own mount, I saw him wipe some sweat off of his face with the green bandana he kept tied to his neck - being tortured by the heat even more than me, inside of his heavy leather coat.

My partner. My lover, Kyle Broflovski. Notorious gun-for-hire, same as I. We had met many years ago, when he and I were both just seventeen - but life had already taken its toll on the both of us, leaving nothing except two jaded young adults with very little to lose. By then we were already gunslingers, I was here and there committing petty thefts while he worked as a watchman for some merchant in the region. I took his side in a saloon fight that turned into a huge shootout - not proud to say a huge part of its escalation was his fault, but well, at least we won - and the thrill of going through a life-or-death situation together might’ve created a bond between us right at that moment, because from then on we rarely left each other’s side.

We started out merely as colleagues, but feelings quickly grew, and how wouldn’t they? He was handsome, intelligent, kind, honorable and great in bed. Everything a woman would want, if she ignored the ‘outlaw’ part, which I wouldn’t and didn’t even want to. Now, eight or nine years later, we still roamed this godforsaken country together - making money by offering protection services to basically anyone who needed bodyguards or an extra pair of shooters defending their property, and also by tracking wanted criminals and delivering their filthy bodies to the law enforcers looking for them; sometimes living, sometimes dead. Sometimes it felt like he kind of preferred it as the latter.

But as he looked back at me and I allowed myself to get lost in his shining eyes and jovial smile, it dawned on me that, at least for now, that was gone. We were on vacation, so to speak. For the last couple of weeks we had been on the road almost non-stop, all so that we could make it to our destination as quickly as possible. 

Today’s leg of the trip had been rather quiet, save for the occasional snorting of one of our horses, but I liked it that way. After so many years with Kyle, I had come to enjoy even those moments of silence: we talked so much every single day, but even when we didn’t say anything I still felt comfort in just being by his side.

Plus, it had been the first time in a while that we managed to just not have to say anything. For the last year or so, we hadn’t been running by ourselves, instead making use of the connection and safety of a small group with other outlaws. Life with them was decent - we didn’t exactly love each other or keep any type of code, but we’d help wherever we could to make sure everyone’s lives were running smoothly. But it was very clear that my true loyalty was only to Kyle, and his to me. 

So, when about nine months in he started to become visibly bothered and complain more, unhappy about having to set up shelter right next to people he didn’t exactly trust, we started planning our exit. We were used to it just being the two of us anyway, so there were no worries, we just had to plan the exit in a way that wouldn’t create a fuss. The opportunity came in the best way possible - a few weeks after our first talk of leaving, Kyle picked up at the post office a letter from his best friend, Stan Marsh, inviting us to go to his farm just one or two states away for a few days' stay. We left camp at night, after everyone was already asleep, and set out on this trip to meet up with the people we were most likely to actually consider family.

Kyle and Stan had known each other since before even being born, one could say. Randy Marsh and Gerald Broflovski were very close friends as children, though they followed very different paths in life: while my partner’s father took to the books and became a lawyer, the Marsh patriarch bought a plot of land not too far from the small mountain town where they lived and built a small but sturdy farm, which expanded over the years and made decent money. It was called Tegridy - apparently, it was supposed to be “Integrity”, a word Mr. Broflovski taught Mr. Marsh, but the latter didn’t really know how to write it; and, by the time he finally learned, it was already too late and the whole region already knew it by the wrong name, so it stuck.

And that’s how Kyle and Stan grew up: kept close as can be from the very start. Mr. Broflovski would take his family to the farmstead whenever he found a little free time and the boys spent their afternoons playing in the open fields, fishing in the stream nearby and helping Mr. Marsh with tasks around the farm once they became old enough. They saw each other turn from dim-witted boys to respectable young men, and the world seemed infinite for them, bright-eyed adolescents who could experience all the great things life had to offer without shouldering any of its burdens.

Unfortunately, just a few weeks before Kyle turned sixteen, his whole family was taken from him in a violent gang attack, caught in an ambush on the wagon they were riding while coming back from a trip, stripped of every valuable they had on hand and then shot dead. My partner wasn’t present at the time of the crime, so he was spared - something that he struggled with the guilt of for many years, and that was his primary motivation for becoming a vigilante: going after criminals just like those who wronged his family, to take them to justice and, more importantly, making sure their sentences were served. 

When Kyle showed up at Stan’s doorstep for what would be his last conversation as a man without blood in his hands, it took a lot of arguing and convincing from Kyle for his friend to not immediately pack his bags, saddle up and ride alongside him. Stan eventually relented, settled for receiving Kyle’s letters and some rare visits, took over the farm and married a lovely young woman named Wendy Testaburger.

A lovely young woman who, turns out, hated Kyle and I’s guts fiercely. She came from a well-off household and left a comfortable life to be with Stan, so I guess having a pair of shabby gunslingers as the closest friends of her new family didn’t sit right with how she was raised. It also didn’t help that, every time we were around, Stan would drop everything he was doing and stick to us like a tick to a dog’s fur, asking Kyle non-stop about everything we were up to and making us fill him in on every single chase and shootout and bounty delivered, without leaving any stone unturned. His interest in the life was very noticeable, even if he tried to deny it during the multiple arguments we heard him have with Wendy when they thought we were sleeping. The new Mrs. Marsh was absolutely terrified that our constant presence would have a bigger impact on him the longer we stayed, and that someday our wicked ways would win Stan over and he’d ride off into the sunset with us and make her a widow - or, worse in her mind, a divorcée.

Her worries only waned after a particularly long stretch of time we spent at their place. Kyle had gotten badly injured in a shootout against one of our bounties - and, although my quick thinking managed to stabilize the situation to where he was no longer in danger, we still needed to lay low for a while as he healed, and sleeping on the dirt in tents moving from place to place was not it. So I found ourselves a wagon and showed up unannounced to the Marsh residence with Kyle and all of our belongings loaded on it. 

My guess is seeing the dangers of the job in real time and how precarious our day-to-day life really was had been a wake-up call to Stan, since after that his begging for me and Kyle to retell our epic stories had diminished considerably. With this, Wendy was finally able to rest assured that she’d keep her husband, and she was willing to get to know us better and have actual positive interactions. At least something good came out of that whole mess - to this day, Kyle’s left shoulder didn’t work as good as it used to, and he still felt this overwhelming pain at random times.

That is all to say the four of us had a very strong bond forged through years of experiences together, delights and torments shared - a bond that would never waiver even when Kyle and I were on the other side of the country cleaning up the trash and delivering bounties around the most different jurisdictions. So, when we received that letter with Stan and Wendy scolding us because we hadn’t seen them since before the lady got pregnant with their fourth and urging us to come back to Colorado for she was now on the last leg of that pregnancy, we figured it was the least we could do to pack our stuff and ride to Tegridy Farm to spend a few weeks with the Marsh family, helping wherever they needed to make sure that these last couple of days, or the few right after childbirth, would go as smoothly as possible.

It had been about two or three weeks that we had been on the road now and we were finally at our destination. To my side, the very familiar farm spanned across the land, its decent area determined by some flimsy wooden fences in need of fixing. The structures and inside the boundaries of the fence for the most part didn’t match its state of neglect; the cultivation fields with the seasonal crops were well-kempt, the stables and barn had a regular repair schedule, and the main house - the crown jewel of the property - stood elegant in the middle of it all, always clean and pristine courtesy of Wendy’s presence. The only other thing that might’ve seemed neglected in the farm was but a shadow behind the main building - the old house where Stan had lived during his childhood, which hadn’t been inhabited since his mother died, but that he also didn’t seem to have the courage or time to take down completely. 

As we crossed the wooden gateways and made our way inside the farm, the first member of the Marsh family to notice our arrival was actually their elderly chubby dog, Sparky. Stan originally bought him as a puppy to train so he would protect the animals and the land from intruders, but he quickly realized that this dog was a huge wimp and just wanted to play all day, promptly fleeing whenever he sensed danger. However, everyone had already taken a liking to the tiny fellow by then, so he became Wendy and Stan’s personal companion, sleeping inside of the main house and growing up alongside the kids as their pet. When he saw the outlines of us on top of our mounts riding towards the building, he started barking happily and ran as fast as his legs could take him, making a turn when he got to our horses and matching their pace alongside Kyle’s.

His barking must’ve alerted the other members of the household, since not long after he started, we noticed Stan getting up off his chair on the porch. “And look who’s finally here!” He announced as he walked towards us with open arms and, not long after, we saw Wendy’s smiling face appear in one of the second-story windows, her hand waving excitedly out of it as we approached in our steeds.

“Oh, come on, we didn’t take that long.” Though he had essentially just been scolded, Kyle had a glowing smile on his face. Just this moment made almost all the tiring parts of travel worth it, to see how glad my partner would get to see his brother after so long and realize that nothing had changed. To have those moments of his youth back, even if for just a short stay.

“Almost a whole year, Kyle!” Stan retorted, slapping the side of his friend’s arm with his raised hand. “Wait a little more and you might as well have come for the kid’s wedding by then.”

Our mounts slowed to a stop as we reached the front porch, and we heard the thundering noise of several footsteps bolting down the stairs inside. Before we could even dismount, the smiling faces of Stan’s two eldest children - a boy and a girl - ran towards our horses, shouting excitedly and asking questions too quickly and with too high-pitched voices for me to even begin answering them.

“Easy now, children.” A much more soft and pleasant voice managed to be picked up by my ears among the ruckus, and my eyes darted towards the door immediately. Wendy Marsh stood by the doorway, her current youngest child - just shy of two years, if I had my math right - hiding behind her legs. My best friend had one of her hands resting on top of her belly, bump visible even under the loose-fitting maternity dress she wore, and I felt the guilt strike at me on sight; It had been too long since we last saw these two, she had gone through all those changes to her body and mind across multiple months, while I was off somewhere shooting people. I felt like an awful friend.

And then she did something that reminded me exactly how she was more than capable of handling this situation by herself. “YOU DARNED LITTLE RASCALS! SHUT UP THIS INSTANT AND LET YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE SPEAK!” This bellowing, infuriated version of Wendy’s voice had the kids fixing their postures and closing their mouths in an instant, not even daring to breathe loudly anymore, and they gave us one last glance before sprinting back quickly inside the house. The toddler followed suit, waddling after its siblings as fast as its tiny legs could carry it.

With the coast now clear, Kyle quickly slid off of his horse, in a swift movement that only comes with years of doing that multiple times a day. I stayed on top of mine, however, and right after dismounting Kyle made his way to the side of my steed, raising his arms towards me. I turned my whole body to his side and let Kyle take hold of my waist, lifting me off the saddle and putting me on the ground with ease. I was more than perfectly capable of getting out on my own, I had as much experience with this as he did - but this was something he fancied doing, he wanted to be a gentleman whenever he could and there weren’t many opportunities in our daily life for him to fill that role, so he loved to have that little moment and I learned to appreciate it. Plus, he’d get fussy if I didn’t let him do it, so I humored him every single time.

“C’mon, Wends, no need for that,” I turned to her as my boots hit the dirt, “Stan’s right, it’s been so long. They’re kids, they’re just happy to see us.”

“Well, but they’re not giving you a hug before I do!” And she didn’t have to wait any longer, wrapping her arms tightly around me as soon as Kyle let go of my waist and moved his body out of the way. I hugged her back carefully, trying not to put any pressure on her belly, something that she didn’t seem a lick concerned about but kind of worried me a little bit. I heard my partner’s boots kicking the pebbles beneath its soles as he power walked towards Stan to give him a hug as well - although in their case it was more of a side hug, slapping the palm of their hands against the other’s backs amidst laughter. The type of salute men usually shared, not as tender as the displays of friendship between us women, but just as heartfelt. 

After a minute or two like this, Wendy let go of me and gave me one last warm smile before going over to Kyle and giving him a quick hug, and I took the opportunity to do the same to Stan. Even if we weren’t as close as him and Kyle, he was still like family to me. We didn’t linger on the greeting, though; My best friend could get quite possessive when other women were near her man, even if it was just me, and I wasn’t gonna make that lady angry if I could avoid it. 

I swiftly took my spot next to Kyle again, and Wendy did the same near Stan.  “You’re looking gorgeous, Wends,” I stated with a smile. “Really glowing!”

“(Y/N)’s right. Baby number four, too! Stan, you must be proud!” Kyle stretched his arm out and placed his hand on Stan’s shoulder, shaking him teasingly. Stan just laughed and shoved his friend’s hand away from him, but when he straightened his stance again, his chest seemed a little more out than usual and his chin a little more high up. With his pride visible like this, I couldn’t help but be reminded of a rooster, or a peacock with its feathers all spread out.

“Thank you so much, you two. You’re really sweet,” Wendy wrapped her arms around her husband, hugging him from the side, face as happy as could possibly be - but then those smiles turned into a pout. “But don’t think being sweet is going to redeem you! You’ve barely written to us these months! We’ve been worried sick!” 

“Good thing we’re here now to tell you all about what we didn’t write,” Kyle said as he walked back near our steeds. ”Just let me hitch the horses somewhere out of the sun. I won’t be long.”

“No need.” Before we could take action, Stan quickly put two fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, catching the attention of a nearby farmhand passing through, who stopped in his tracks and beelined to us. It was a young man, couldn’t be older than eighteen, with tanned skin from the hours under the sun, strong arms and a serious expression. “Oi, Milton. Take these horses here, lead them to the stables with the others and give them some water. Ah, and make sure they’re fed, they’ve been hours on the road.”

Milton gave a quick nod and took our horses by the reins, leading them slowly towards a big building to the left of the house. We followed him with our eyes for a couple of seconds, in silence. “Well, anyway, let’s take this conversation inside as well,” Wendy suggested, gesturing with her arm towards the house, her expression softening. “I’m sure y’all don’t want to wait out in this sun any more than the horses did.”

And she was damn right. We excused ourselves in and went through the doorway, sighing in relief as we found ourselves in the shade at last. “No issues on the travel, I assume?” She asked with a smile as Kyle took his hat off and put it in the hanger next to Stan’s.

“Just a tiny quarrel with the sheriff last town back, nothin’ major.” It had actually been a little bit more than that, but we didn’t want to worry our friends. The sheriff, an extremely unpleasant fellow who spent more of his time harassing the local ‘working girls’ than actually doing his job, seemed to have a real problem when people who actually wanted to stop crime came along. So, when we showed up to the town with a local thief tied up on the back of Kyle’s horse - captured in an extremely convenient encounter nearby - the so-called law enforcer decided we were ‘trying to come for his position’ and threw the tantrum of a lifetime looking for any reason to have us arrested. Luckily no guns were drawn, we left as quickly as we arrived, but the stress of the whole situation still stuck to us for a couple miles after that.

“Fuuuuck, I hate that feller. Please tell me you beat his ass.” Though Stan apparently had tried to make his dislike of the sheriff known only to Kyle, he did so in a rather loud tone, which made us all turn to him. “Short fat motherfucker loves to pull on my dick whenever I’m in town for anything. Pisses Wendy off, too. Damn failed abortion is what he is.”

“Language, Stanley!” Wendy chided, glaring at him. We heard a couple of giggles, quickly suppressed, and I turned my face upwards - on the second floor, leaning on the balustrade near the staircase, the children gathered, looking down at us and listening in on our conversation.

Kyle and I could only bend over ourselves laughing as the heavily pregnant Wendy chased upstairs, going after her much faster children to try and give them a thorough scolding as they yelled out their brand new vocabulary, while Stan made sure to quickly leave the scene so as to make it harder for himself to be next.

Oh to live this life on the daily.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

The rest of the afternoon went by without any issues. Kyle and I managed to take our first proper bath in days, which was extremely appreciated, and then our attention was almost immediately snatched by the Marsh children. My guess was they didn’t get many visitors on the farm, at least not many that were interested in hearing what small kids have to say, so now that they had people to talk to they were sure to teach us all the new things they had learned and play lots of different games with uncle and auntie.

With evening approaching, Wendy prepared some roast beef with mashed potatoes and fried red tomatoes with garlic, along with a whole apple pie for dessert - under the pretext that since guests were over they had the obligation of making more food to be sure we wouldn’t starve, and maybe spend a little more on the process. She knew Kyle and I would be fine with whatever she prepared, her cooking was so good she could probably boil tree bark on her stove and make it the best meal we ever had, so I knew the sizeable dinner was more a satisfaction of her pregnant whims. We all ate until we almost couldn’t fit in our pants anymore, and after the couple put their kids to bed, Stan brought out a nicer wine and we chatted our more mature matters well into the night. 

After a while, Stan and Kyle decided to go out for a smoke and a night walk around the property, leaving me and Wendy to clean up the dinner mess so that we could ‘talk about our feminine issues’, whatever that meant. So we picked up the dirty tableware and took everything to the kitchen, where she had previously set up two buckets - one with warm water and soap, one with clean water - for the dishes.

After we set everything on the counter and she tried taking another step going for the filled buckets, I immediately put my body in front of her, blocking her next steps. “No no no, little mama!”, I declared, putting both my hands on Wendy’s shoulders and pushing her slowly towards the smaller table in the kitchen, which they used for breakfast. “You’ve already done too much today and been on your feet all this time. Now it’s my turn.”

She tried huffing, stomping her foot and going around me, but my grip on her shoulders was strong enough that she couldn’t, so she bitterly relented and took a seat on one of the flimsy brown chairs near the table. “I’m pregnant, not disabled”, I heard her snort behind my back as I finally let go of her and turned towards the pile of dirty dishes.

“I know, I know,” was my reply while I picked up the first dirty plate and dunked it into the soapy water. “But you made this whole dinner for us and it was delicious, Wends. Lemme do this for you, will ya?”

“You helped with the fried tomatoes,” she retorted.

“Sure, but I’m not the one with a whole baby inside me.”

She giggled. “Not yet.”

My hand stopped in the air halfway through grabbing a dirty wine glass. “Come again?” I inquired as I turned to her with raised eyebrows.

“You tell me, (Y/N)! Ever since before I met you you’ve been running from place to place shooting people for money. Don’t you think it’s time you and Kyle settled down, bought a house somewhere? Maybe you two could even get married and finally stop living in sin.”

Her comment had me rolling my eyes, but I still let out a chuckle; the Marshs weren’t all that religious by any means, and Wendy was a particularly outspoken proponent of women’s right to choose how they wanted to live, so I knew she was just taking a jab. “You have no right to use that against me, miss,” I pointed a soapy wet index finger at her, “Not when I know all about what you and Stanley were up to before your daddy let you get hitched.” It was true and she knew it. After we finally became close friends, I was Wendy’s main confidant, and she’d told me all about her relationship to Stan prior to the marriage - tales in great detail about the different places where they met and spent the night together in secret when they were younger. They had lived basically a whole second relationship together away from prying eyes, and the only people who knew about it were within the same mile radius right now.

Hearing this, she smirked and lifted her left hand close to her face, so I could clearly see the back, and I knew then and there that she’d had the last laugh. “And it worked.” With her other hand, she pointed towards her left ring finger, and there was no pretending I hadn’t noticed the shiny golden wedding band she always kept polished to perfection.

Although we had been partnered all those years and were as close as two souls can be, legally Kyle and I weren’t married. We reckoned there was no need, we already spent every single moment together, putting ourselves in danger for each other during the day and sleeping in the same tent at night. Take away the expensive ceremony and we’re husband and wife. Plus, weddings were usually very religious affairs, and not only were we both very distant from that reality, there was also the tiny fact that we were well-known gunslingers (no matter how lawful we thought ourselves to be, killing someone, even a criminal, is still a cardinal sin) and I’m sure your usual religious leaders aren’t willing to officiate for people like that.

And then there was the matter of children. I had always wanted them, it was one of my plans for life, but I had pushed that aside the moment I picked up a gun for the first time. Kyle and I didn’t keep residence on the same spot for too long - we’d lived places, worked for people for a while, but nowhere that we could actually safely stay for years on end. Our normal life was that of setting camp everywhere, to avoid being tracked by any enemies we made along the way, having to move extremely quickly - and sometimes even that wouldn’t be enough and we’d have to face conflict head-on. We could never do that with a child in our arms, it would be a recipe for disaster. Besides, with my age, I just felt too old for them at this point; all the mothers my age had their kids way earlier and it felt weird to start now, like I wouldn’t have anything in common with them. That ship had sailed.

I knew all of that and I was alright with it. My love for Kyle didn’t need no overpriced dress or ring to be real, and we didn’t need kids to have a real family. Hell, so many couples go through that whole song and dance of getting married only to end up cheating and abusing each other beyond belief! If that’s what marriage is, then I don’t want any part of it, thank you very much. We were doing fine. 

So it was the little girl inside of me that felt that little stab of jealousy seeing Wendy’s shiny jewelry and huge belly - the little girl that did grow up flipping through wedding catalogs to see the pretty dresses, that spent her childhood thinking of the names she’d give for her future children and hearing stories about young ladies who met their Prince Charmings and lived their happily ever after, before life took its turns and made her into a killer. This little girl would’ve loved to have a house and kids, and would’ve taken Wendy’s offer in half a heartbeat, but she didn’t have the right to live anymore. 

So as it came, it went. I went back to the dishes, acting like this conversation hadn’t affected me any more than our other casual chats during the day. “Wendy, we can’t,” I said as I splashed a handful of forks inside of the now cold water, “We’re gunslingers, in case you forgot. We don’t have a house like you and Stan do. Ya think a child should grow up living like we do? That ain’t fair.”

I heard the drag of her chair as she got up from it and moved towards me, but before I could turn to tell her to sit down again, she had already closed the distance between us with very quick steps. “You don’t have to live like you do.” She grabbed my right hand between hers and looked me in the eyes in a way that seemed almost like she was pleading. “We told you already. There’s the old house in the back you can take, it just needs some fixing up, Stan would be glad to do it. The kids love having you around, you can help care for them and if you have some we can help too, they can grow up together-”

“Wendy, we’re not gonna live on your farm!”, I interjected before she could go any further in her crazy rambles. Rambles that it wasn’t my first time hearing about - both in letters and in person, she’d sometimes go on about how we should create roots and start a family somewhere nice, while underlining how the farm had all this space and needed more workers and the kids could use a few more friends… “This is y’all’s house. We ain’t gonna impose on your life like that.” I wriggled my hand away from hers. ”And gunslingin’s our job, it’s all we know to do. We wouldn’t know how to live like you do. So just drop it, please.”

She patted her now free hand against her dress to dry it and didn’t seem to want to look at me anymore. “The beauty of being alive is that you can learn.” I heard her say meekly, which made me feel extremely bad that I had been so firm with her when she was so excited about her ideas - but I didn’t want to give her hope, or rather, give myself more hope by listening to her.

I reached to pick up another dirty dish from the pile, but my hand grabbed at nothing. While giving Wendy’s babbles my undivided attention, I had mechanically done all of the washing, now everything just needed to be dried and put away. But, as I stretched my arm out to grab a clean dish towel, it was her time to stop me in my tracks. “I’ll take it from here.” She declared as she reached for the rag before I could and snatched it out of my range. When she heard me gasp and scramble for a rebuttal, she added: “No buts, you must be tired, y’all were on the road all morning and then the kids were also a handful. You’re done for the night.”

“I ain’t going to bed anyway,” I noted, “If you want me to do nothing then I’ll stay here with you ‘till you’re done.”

“Don’t worry about me. It’ll be quick, I’ll dry this all off, and then I’ll go out to call the dog back inside anyway, might as well give the men a shout to come to bed too.” She shrugged as she picked up a wet plate.

I honestly wanted to argue a bit more and not leave her alone like that, but my aching back was very interested in what she suggested - I had spent my whole morning on the back of a horse and then the whole afternoon chasing after zippy children. I sighed in defeat and nodded, earning from her an earnest smile. “Very well then, but tomorrow everything’s on me. Don’t wanna see you up and about before noon, understood? Good night.”

I turned on my heels to leave, hearing her giggle behind me. “Sure thing, (Y/N).” I started walking out of the kitchen, but just then she uttered: “Just… Think about what I said, alright? Good night.”

I looked back over my shoulder to see if she was going to say or do anything else, but her back was already turned to me, as she stared at the window above the counter, watching over her property.

I suppose I ended up doing what she last told me to do in the end, because our little chat really stuck with me through the next minutes.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Even after all the time I spent getting myself prepped for bed, Kyle still hadn’t returned by the time I was done with it. So I picked up a book from Wendy’s collection - reading was one of her main hobbies, growing up educated as she was, and she kept it up even after moving to the farm - and cozied up under the blanket of the guest room bed. I was happy to have something different to read this time; Kyle and I had a couple books with us, we liked to read whenever we had the free time, but it’s God awful having too many things when you’re always moving from place to place, so we kept our assortment to a minimum. Turns out it’s very easy to get annoyed at a book when it’s the only one you ever read, and those I had in my bag were starting to become a real eyesore.

This one I had in my hand I’d never seen before, but the cover was nice enough and the summary got me on its hook, so I was pretty intrigued. It was this fictional story about an outlaw who got diagnosed with a terminal disease and spent the rest of his life trying to atone for his sinful deeds, while also uncovering some truths about the people he was most close to. Without even realizing, even during the first paragraphs, I had grown attached to the main character - his sorrow as he looks back at what he managed to do with his life, when he remembers all the bad things he has done that brought him to his current situation, and the way he tries to change and make the lives of those he loves as easy as possible with the time he has left. 

It put me into deep thought rather fast. That character managed to change everything about his life, his core beliefs and priorities, when faced with the inevitability of death. He didn’t think he could, in his mind he was doomed to be nothing more than the sins he committed, and to pay for them when the time came for that - but, although he didn’t manage to live the happily ever after everyone wants out of life, he still managed to protect those he loved and leave an everlasting mark on the people around him.

‘The beauty of being alive is that you can learn,’ Wendy’s voice echoed in my mind again, teasing me with promises of a better life. Maybe it wasn’t too late for me and Kyle to change. We had something most others in our line of work didn’t have the luxury of - we had people willing to help us. But then again, did Kyle and I want to be helped? We had never considered such an option besides drunkenly debating those hypotheticals every once in a blue moon. It was possible that he didn’t even want something like this, and I’d rather bite my tongue out and never speak again than do so and lose him forever over it.

The sudden squeak of the ancient guest room door opening shoved me right out of the depths of my brain into the real world. Kyle was back from his long walk, whistling absentmindedly some random tune he probably picked up at a saloon. The rather acid stench that usually accompanied someone who had just smoked didn’t enter alongside him, and that I was glad for; He had obviously taken the time to air himself out and get all the smell out of his body before coming back in. I wondered if Stan had the same care towards his pregnant wife. “Sorry I took so long, Stan just wanted to show me the new horses and we ended up going for a ride on them.”

“No problem. I found myself something to do anyway.” I closed the book in my lap and lifted it briefly to show him the cover, before setting it on the nightstand, as far as I could from the candle that was also on top of it.

“You’ve gotta tell me what this one is about later.” He sat down on the narrow bench in front of the bed and began taking off his boots. “Did you and Wendy have fun together?”

“Sure thing, it was real nice”, I answered, “Lotsa great talking about our feminine issues and stuff. What about you, macho man?”

My voice carried a hint of sarcasm that he picked up on immediately. He turned his body slightly so he could look at me. “Sorry about that, I guess.” He rolled his eyes. “But you know you and Wendy don’t have the same kind of conversations Stan and I do. That’s what we meant.”

“I know, I know, I’m just playing with ya.” The reassurance that I wasn’t actually mad at him or his friend for the earlier comment made him relax a little. He turned his back to me again and started unbuttoning his shirt as I kept talking. “We really had a nice talk, her and I. It feels so good to be back here.”

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. Let’s make the most of the next days then.”

As he got up from the bench to remove his pants, I took the opportunity to take a good look at his body. Kyle had a very lean build, it was quite hard for him to gain weight and build those big muscles some other guys had, but he was by no means weak; doing stuff at camp, handling bandits to bring them to jail and the exercise it all took made him a very fit guy who could stand his ground even without a gun. He was also quite pale, at least for someone who spent almost all his time outside, and had plenty of freckles peppered all around his soft skin. I remembered Milton again, the farmhand Stan hired, and wondered if working on a farm every day under the sun would make Kyle look like that too - I hoped not, I loved my partner the way he was, didn’t want him to change a thing. But I knew it wouldn’t: After many summers together, the only thing I ever saw the sun do to Kyle was make him redder than a tomato all over, and his skin would usually start peeling a day or two later, which was why he preferred to wear long sleeved shirts even in the hotter months.  

There they were, the thoughts of being on the farm again. I blinked and focused my blurry eyes on Kyle again. He had stopped undressing. “Everything alright, honey?”, he inquired, looking at me with a frown.

“Ya, it’s nothin’. Just thinkin’ ‘bout how handsome my man is ‘s all.”, I was quick to answer. He shook his head with a smirk and, without answering, went back to taking off his undergarments.

When he was fully in the nude, he made his way towards the bed, not bothering to put on any sort of sleepwear. In that, he matched me - besides the bedding, there was nothing covering my body. This was normal for us: there was literally no part of our bodies that the other hadn’t seen, so why bother hiding anything? Besides, it made everything so much easier when we didn’t have to spend time ridding ourselves of all that fabric before making love. It had made for some embarrassing situations in the past, where we had to jump straight out of our beds, guns drawn, prepared for trouble; but, no matter how much we told ourselves that we really needed to stop being lazy and start wearing our pajamas, we’d still lay down the next night in our birthday suits, because there was no shame anyone else could make us feel that was more important than the feeling of his warm skin against mine.

“But you wanna know what’s funny?” Kyle commented as he pulled up the covers on the right side of the bed to lay down beside me, “Stan asked me again what I thought of the old house. Said this time we’re not getting away.”

Him bringing this up came as a shock - my eyes widened and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Was this man a seer or something? How come he knew to bring up exactly the thing that was eating at my mind the whole night?

I managed to keep my cool and let out a laugh that might’ve sounded a bit too loud for comfort. “Wendy did the same thing to me!”, I yelped, “The way they talk about this with us you’d think they were tryna sell us the farm.”

“They really want us to move in.” He let out a deep exhale as his head hit the feather pillow after a whole day with very little rest. “And he did say Wendy would talk to you and have you hooked on it. That by the end of the year you’d have ‘a bun in the oven’ and I’d finally know the joys of being a father.”

“I’m sure it was just the wine talking. You know Stan’s a major lightweight.” Again with my deflecting. The truth was I didn’t want to give away that Wendy’s suggestions were slowly building a nest in my heart, because I knew it couldn’t stay. Maybe joking around a bit with Kyle would remind me of the situation we were in, that this idyllic little house life we led was only temporary, and that we were bound to go back on the road after a few days, in search of more work. All I couldn’t do was make my current interest too overt, and I would forget about it just fine.

“Eh, I don’t know… He seemed pretty serious to me. Not like he does when he’s drunk, and I’d know that.” He turned on his side, facing me, and I could see the reflection of my candle’s flame dancing inside his olive eyes as he stared intently. Either he was really captivated by it, or he didn’t want to look at me for some reason, and that made me even more worried. He stayed like this for a couple of minutes, during which the room fell to almost complete silence, only broken by the crickets outside or the occasional cackling of the tiny flame. “And… What did you think?” Kyle finally asked, lifting his face toward me, studying my features just in case they gave a different answer than the one that would come from my mouth. “About what Wendy said, I mean.”

“Hey, now, what I thought doesn’t matter.” It was now my turn to look away and stare at the flame, wanting to just blow it out and dunk the room in darkness, all to not continue this conversation. “You know it’s just silly daydreams she has. They don’t get out as often as they used to, with the children and whatnot, so she stays inside and comes up with stuff like this.”

Kyle rapidly sat himself up in the bed and cupped my face in his hands, turning it so that we could finally be looking at each other. “You know your thoughts are the only ones that matter to me.” He stated firmly, gazing into my eyes with even more certainty than that which he had in his voice. “I don’t care about what Stan or Wendy want. But if you have something to say, you have my full attention, no matter what it is.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, bringing my right hand up and resting it on top of his. It was fine. I knew I couldn’t just lie to Kyle here, he’d figure me out. And, with all his brains, surely he could come up with a logical explanation for my troubles and help me see the most sensible path. “Look, I’m sure they mean well and it’s such a pretty idea”, I started, “I’d love to do that if our lives were different. But as it is it wouldn’t stick, honey. There’s no point in pretendin’.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

I expected all sorts of reactions from Kyle, but not this one. His hand withdrew from my face as he pulled his upper body slightly away from me, but still kept his stare fixed. Both his eyebrows were raised and his eyes were wide, and his mouth fell slightly open as he breathed through it. He looked like someone would if they heard something they didn’t want to, or received disappointing news; which wasn’t how he usually reacted to those situations - Kyle was the type to argue his point to the bitter end, so disagreements usually came with a lot more anger instead of sadness or anxiety. This time, he seemed hurt.

“Oh, honey… You know why.” I rested my hands on top of my chest, feeling my heart accelerate, and trying to ground myself before the shock became too much. “We can’t put a child in a world like ours. Would be torture.”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be a world like ours. We can live here, at least temporarily, and then we move somewhere else. Stan already gave us the go.”

“Kyle, you know we have targets on our backs!” I tried moving my body closer to his, like that might get the point across easier, my voice denouncing my increasing concern with his reaction. “All these people we sent to swing, their buddies always try to come after us. Stan and Wendy don’t deserve this. We can’t risk them.”

“How? We’re in the middle of bumfuck nowhere!” There it was, the anger flaring his nerves. It always happened when something hit close to his heart, he felt the need to explain himself and make the people around him ‘see reason’ - I knew that behavior too well, though I wasn’t normally on the receiving end of it. But right now this wasn’t about logic or reason. These were his wishes. “We’ll disappear. I’ll change my name, you’ll change yours, we fake our deaths, these people don’t remember anything anymore after a couple of months anyway!”

Although I kept on nervously laughing, he was hitting all the right points, the points my own heart made when it wanted to feed on the delusions for a while longer. Kyle was very good at that - if he thought something was the better option, he’d twist both Heaven and Hell to make it make sense. “Oh yes? Well, say we go through with it, what do we know about ranch life?” I let out another nervous laugh. “Can you plant anything? Feed cattle?”

“Does that even matter?” In a quick movement, he climbed on top of me, knees at the side of my thighs as he straddled my legs, the blanket draping from his shoulders since he didn’t bother getting out from under it. We didn’t break eye contact for a single second. “You know I learn fast. If I-You want this, then we can figure it out!”

Clarity struck me like a bullet. Did he just say ‘I’? “Stan… Didn’t really talk to you about anything, did he?”

He shook his head again, less enthusiastically this time, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Do you remember a couple months ago, after you and I left the gang, when we talked about life with a house and kids and what we’d do if we had that?” I nodded, before realizing that he couldn’t see the gesture anyway - but he took my silence as agreement and continued talking. “I sent Stan a letter soon after. At first it was just to vent, but then he replied with their suggestion and I thought… Well, we could at least try.” The end of his sentence brought with it a faint smile to his lips, and he opened his eyes again slowly.

For the first time in this conversation had my little fit of laughter been genuine. The three of them had put all this in motion right under my nose, based on one wishful conversation we had, which Kyle had taken to heart and made sure to come to fruition. “I thought you liked the hunt, though” I said, head tilting to the side. “Liked bringin’ people to justice an’ givin’ ‘em what they deserved, no?”

“I like that, but I love you.” He answered without missing a beat. Felt like he was plain waiting for it. “And besides, it’s not like we can’t be virtuous people and do what’s right even without spending all our lives chasing after criminals. Our honor comes from our hearts, not from the barrel of our guns.”

Good ol’ Kyle with his smooth way of talking. It was one of the many reasons I fell for him - though his day-to-day life was rough and he shot outlaws for a living, deep inside he was still a very caring man, someone intelligent who saw all the bad in the world and still chose to do good. “Where did you even learn to talk like that?” I chuckled. “You shoulda been a writer, not a shooter.”

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll get started on that now, since I’ll have more time.” Taking my hands in his, he kissed my knuckles lovingly. Then his thumb grazed my empty left ring finger, his touch, as soft as his rough hands would allow it, lingering for a couple of seconds. “After the wedding, that is.”

“Wait, you serious?” This night was getting so filled with surprises, I might just believe someone if they said Sparky was a human in disguise. “No need for that, my dear. I’m already yours.”

“But I want to do it.” His hands let go of mine and he moved his body closer to me, giving me a quick peck to the forehead. Then he suddenly grabbed the blanket and yanked it to the side, throwing it on the floor and leaving both our bodies completely exposed. “And we gotta do it quick, before you start to show.”

Before I could ask him what I’d start to show, he pulled me by the shoulders and smashed his lips against mine fiercely. My hands shot up to grab his curls, making him groan into my mouth and deepen the kiss - and there it was, the now faint taste of the cigar I hadn’t smelled previously, spicy and earthy, but it tasted like the sweetest thing on the planet just because of the sheer passion we shared right now.  

As I felt Kyle’s hand drift up from between us to knead at my breast, I broke the kiss with a gasp. “Wait, here?” I asked, surprised, though the corners of my mouth curved up, snitches of my excitement.

“Now.”, he declared, straightening his legs and propping himself up in his arms to give me space to slide down and lay beneath him, with my head now on the pillow and my legs spread. When I broke eye contact for just a second and finally looked down, I saw his dick was already almost fully hard - was the simple idea of getting me pregnant enough to make him like that?

“Can’t wait to see how you’re gonna explain this to them tomorrow” I said with a giggle as Kyle lowered his body, putting his weight on his elbows, and planting kisses all over my face. My subdued laughs quickly got replaced by soft hums as he started going down the side of my neck with his lips, while his hips started rocking against mine, his cock grinding against my body and the tip spreading some warm precum over my lower abdomen with each slow movement.

His answer, unlike most everything he ever said, was simple, direct, and left no leeway for questioning. “Well, it would do them some good to get used to it.” I felt my face burn like the damn candle as he said that, and my pussy starting to drip with wetness, the arousal soaking into the bedsheet. He stopped his kisses for a moment to put his mouth to my ear, and when he whispered his next declaration, it felt like it was going straight to my cunt: “Because I’m keeping you filled up now. Make you mine all the time and no one can do a damn thing about it.”

“Oh, you gonna change your mind when I’m all big and swollen…”, I drawled feebly. Disputing his claims was getting hard now since my brain was getting foggy with desire, but I still had to try, even if just to hear him singing praises to me some more.

I felt his left hand coursing through my body, stopping with his palm flat on my midriff, feeling almost cold with how hot I was getting all over. “Absolutely not,” He whispered again, “You’re gonna be even more fucking gorgeous when you’re carrying my child. I’ll make love to you every single night.”

My hand started to move down between our bodies, too, as I tried to reach for Kyle’s throbbing cock, wanting to make him feel good - if I couldn’t with pretty words like he did me, at least I knew I could do it with actions. But, when my fingers touched his leaking tip, he immediately took his hand off my belly and gripped my wrist, moving it back to the side of my body. As I looked at him with a puzzled expression on my face, he simply shook his head, gave me another peck to the mouth and started pushing himself down on the bed, only stopping when his face was level with my pussy and his palms were flat at the side of my hips.

Just by seeing him there, I could feel my walls clenching around nothing, almost like they begged on their own for his loving and experienced touch. Kyle was a damn great lover and from the very first day we laid together it was like he knew all the right ways to make me come undone, and he had no shame about anything he did to achieve it - most of all, he was eager to do it. By God did this man love to please me. If that was what was waiting for me every night from now on, I could very easily get used to everything else.

He started planting small kisses on the inside of both of my thighs as he pushed my legs slowly up, my knees now almost hitting my chest. His lips felt soft and endearing on my skin, but this was not where I wanted them - and he knew it, with the way he held my gaze the whole time as he did it, his eyes glittering with his teasing ways. Every few kisses, he’d break the sequence with a slight graze of his teeth on my skin, the softest of bites, but enough to make all the fine hairs in my thigh rise up in a pleasurable goosebump.

Just as I was getting tired of the wait and was contemplating pulling at his hair to bring him away from my leg, it was like he had read my mind again. He let go of my thighs and put his hands on my hips, not quite gripping them, but steadying them in place. I closed my eyes and sighed contentedly as he licked a stripe from my already very wet cunt to my clit, giving it a very quick kiss at the end, which made me wonder for a second if he was about to start teasing me again and how long for. But then all thoughts left my brain as soon as he started swirling his tongue over my clit, in a pattern I didn’t know or care about, making me squirm almost immediately and dig my nails into my palm.

His tongue slithered down, making its way to my entrance, and my hips started rolling against his mouth, trying to help his movements as he fucked me with it. He’d grunt every now and then as he did it, lost in the satisfaction he felt by pleasuring me, and sending the vibrations through my heat, making me even wetter. I could feel him staring at me from down there, too, despite my shut eyes; He always paid attention to every reaction of mine, licking and sucking all the right parts that he knew made me squirm.

Then he moved up with his mouth to focus on my clit again and my hands darted down to grab at his hair, my palms hurting at the spots where the little crescent shapes from my nails had formed. I felt one of his fingers circling my entrance, gathering my arousal before plunging fully deep inside, my walls almost sucking it in. Another one soon followed and he started pumping them in and out while curling them upwards, massaging my sweet spot perfectly, still never missing the pace of the swirls of his tongue on my hardened bud.

It became too much too quickly. The dam holding back the river of my climax broke after not much longer and my orgasm washed over me violently, every single muscle in my body tensing up and my thighs pressing strongly against the side of my lover’s head while my hips rocked against his mouth, chasing my pleasure to its bitter end. One of my hands darted up to cover my mouth immediately, muffling the loud cries I let out as it happened, my one and only moment of clarity during the whole release.

And even then Kyle didn’t stop his ministrations, his hand covered with my juices as his fingers kept pushing inside, making way through my tightly clenched walls. After I came down from my haze, however, the overstimulation started to become rather painful - only when I managed to collect enough strength to tug at the back of his hair rather fiercely to pull him away from my cunt did he stop, and even then I swore I could see for a brief moment a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

Kyle positioned his body between my legs again and took his time to run one last stripe along my slit with his fingers, the ones he used inside me, before bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean, with his eyes closed. He did this every time, not wanting to waste even a single drop of me. I was his favorite whiskey and, when it came to that, he was a damn alcoholic.

This time it was me putting my hands on Kyle’s shoulders and bringing him down for a kiss, running the tip of my tongue across his lips lightly, tasting my love in him. When we parted, gasping for air, I leisurely ran my hands over his upper body, caressing every inch of him they could reach - his cheeks, then down his neck, around his collarbone, his chest, until my left hand stopped at his shoulder, on top of his biggest and most visible scar.

Kyle had plenty of scars, these things came with our line of work, but this one was different. Not caused by a bullet or a knife, but rather by fire itself - a dynamite explosion that caught us by surprise during a shootout in this very state we were currently in. That fire almost took my lover’s life, dragged both of us into months of suffering and stress, and even years after it was extinguished we still carried with us not only the trauma, but a physical reminder of everything it claimed. 

The physical scar itself was a bit rough to the touch and full of small streaks and bumps all over. It spread all over his shoulder into the right side of his chest, his upper arm, and a bit over his back. Across the years, its color had faded from a gruesome brown to a slight reddish tint, but it still had a jarring contrast to Kyle’s pale skin. No part of it was delightful, if I’m being honest. Yet I’d kiss it every single night, caress it at every opportunity and massage it with expensive essential oils whenever those were available; because I’d take a whole life with that scar over even a single second of the alternative.

“You saved me, you know,” He murmured with a sigh.

“I know, because you say it all the time.” I chuckled. “But we ain’t gotta talk about that anymore, dear. You know I’d do it again.”

“Not that day. Well, yes that day, but also all the others before and after that.” He lowered his head closer to mine so that our noses and foreheads were touching, and his warm breath ghosted my lips, bringing the lustful haze back to my brain. At this point I didn’t know what I wanted to do more: Hear his voice forever as he whispered his praise and love towards me, or kiss him until I could feel all these words inside of my skin.

My partner took himself in his hands and started to slide the tip of his cock up and down between my folds, from my entrance to my clit, making my whole body twitch a little when he got to the still very sensitive bundle of nerves. “And you might just be about to save me again,” He continued, aligning himself with my entrance, “You’ll be the perfect wife and mother. My wife and the mother of my babies.”

Kyle pushed himself inside of me slowly, inch by inch, being extra careful as his big and thick cock stretched out my cunt. It didn’t hurt much, I was used to it after years of taking him regularly, but he still wanted to make sure I was comfortable every single time before continuing. 

Once I gave him a smile and a small nod, he started to push in and out slowly, letting me feel every single twitch of his cock inside me and every one of those veins I knew so well pressed against my walls in their entirety. He quickly built up momentum, however, and soon the room was filled with the squelching sounds of my wetness being pounded against, his hips striking my body and the bedframe hitting the house’s wooden walls perfectly synchronizing with it. After a while like this, without warning, he picked up both my legs and brought them over each of his shoulders, pushing my knees back against my chest, my toes touching his hair as they curled in pleasure.

Kyle was hitting my cervix with every strong thrust now, sending sharp and slightly painful stings that jolted through my lower abdomen with every smash of his soft head against that barrier. And yet, every time I felt those, I just wanted more and more; Having Kyle deep inside me in this position always managed to cover all the right spots inside of me, I just wanted to hold him, keep him there. And I knew he was feeling just as good as I was - the sounds coming from his throat were getting louder and louder as he shut his lips tighter to prevent them from turning into full brown growls, his fingertips whiter than ever since his grip on my hips was so fierce I was sure by tomorrow I’d have a few bruises there.

“K-Kyle… Aaaaah… Give… Me…” I whimpered between moans, stretching my arms towards him, nails scratching against his skin as I tried to grab his hips, keep them glued to mine forever.

“Lord… You want me even more, do you?” He responded with shaky breaths, and I immediately felt it when he picked up even more speed - a move made even easier by the amount of slick built up in and around my pussy -, jackhammering into my cunt and making me see stars both from pain and pleasure. 

At this point I should’ve known there was no point in even trying to hide our sinful sounds anymore, but I still felt like I needed to do it. I tried to pick up Kyle’s pillow from the side of my head and put it over my face to muffle my constant cries of satisfaction, but my partner immediately grabbed it from my hand and tossed it back in its place with a growl.

“No. Don’t hide it. I want to see it. The face you make… When you cum for me and I stuff you up to the brim.”

The scene he described burned into my brain almost immediately and I could think of nothing else. For him to fill me up, give me a baby, make us a family - it was all I wanted out of life now, and the mere thought of it was enough to have my muscles tensing and that familiar pressure on my lower abdomen to start building up again, threatening to snap. “Please, Kyle,” I whined, “Breed me. Give it all to me… I need it…”

“I know you do, darling...” He leaned closer to me to give me a kiss, the clash of our lips messy and awkward with our desperate need to touch each other and the fogginess in our brains, but we didn’t care. I just wanted to have him as close as possible. “I need it too… Cum for me, please. I want to feel you milking my dick to the last drop.”

He needed not ask further. For the second time that night I felt my whole body burst into electricity, my cunt spasming like crazy as I tried to give Kyle exactly what he asked of me, exactly what I felt like I was meant to do all along. My legs trashed all over near his shoulders and my back arched as I lost control of my body with the waves of pleasure that washed me over.

The tightness around his cock as my walls fluttered around him and my face contorting in absolute pleasure as I came were what finally did him in. Kyle threw his head back while he came undone inside me, grabbing my hips and pulling them towards him as he buried himself deep into my core, his manhood throbbing, painting my walls with his seed. The sensation was extremely new to me - I felt the warm spurts painting my walls, filling me up and leaving Kyle’s mark somewhere no other man could ever reach.

I wasn’t used to Kyle finishing inside of me. Considering the everlasting battle between our higher than average libidos and our fear of having children, the closest compromise for that was having him do it on my breasts, belly, mouth, face, even ass if he was feeling wild enough. On the rare occasions where he did cum inside, I couldn’t even enjoy it - my brain would immediately be flooded with stress and worry, shutting down any other sensation, and I’d spend the next month or so losing sleep waiting for my next period so I could finally be at peace again.

But here there was none of that. I could relax and ride out this high with him. I let him have his moment, heaving my exhaustion away quietly as I admired the red flush on his pale skin and the sheen of his sweat under the candlelight, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted like his lungs weren’t big enough for the amount of air he needed to live. When he finally opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was me, I felt wrapped up in his love all over again.

When his breathing started to steady, I figured he’d get himself off of me and take his place by my side on the bed. Instead, he just laid his whole body on top of mine, somehow being careful enough to not crush me under his weight as he collapsed.

“Kyle?” I gave him some quick taps to the shoulder with my fingers after a minute or two like this in silence, when I’d started to worry that he might just fall asleep. “C’mon, dear, you gotta scoot over if you wanna sleep.”

“Hmph… Sorry…” He groaned, with a sluggishness that made clear he was indeed just a few sheeps counted away from deep slumber. “Wanted to make sure to keep it all in. Don’t wanna waste…”

Even though he clearly didn’t want to, he slowly moved away from me and rolled to his side of the bed. When his dick withdrew from me, I suddenly felt a bit empty and wondered briefly if I couldn’t have tried to sleep like that or at least stay a little longer.

“Sorry, my dear,” I planted a kiss to the side of his head, “But you know, if you don’t get me pregnant tonight, we have plenty of time now.”

I sat back on the bed briefly to blow the candle out on the nightstand, plunging our room into almost complete darkness. As soon as I laid my head back on my pillow, Kyle brought his arm over my body and pulled me closer to him, nuzzling my hair.

“We have plenty of time now,” He whispered, with more energy in his voice this time.

And we definitely did.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[immobulusmalfoy]

Until We Drink // Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Summary: Friends with benefits with Fred turn into some feelings. Based on "Until We Drink" by Savannah Sgro. Warnings: Drunk sex and FWB, but no description of the act. A/N: Apparently I'm on a Fred kick, so enjoy this little song fic. > DO NOT, under any circumstance, repost my works on any other platform or even on this one. I don’t condone it, haven’t condoned it, and never will. <

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In the kitchen doing shots around the sink // sloppy dancing turns to kissing in your sheets

“Freddie!” you shouted, nearly bowling over the tall, gangly ginger. “Congratulations, lovey!”

“Why thank you, darling.” Fred grinned, having caught you in his arms from your dangerous assault. “Been drinking already, have we? Hope you saved some firewhiskey for me.”

“You’ll have to just go and see, Freddie.” You smiled lazily up at the boy and he kept you wrapped tightly in his arms. Gryffindor had won the match against Ravenclaw earlier, meriting a celebration. But when you drank firewhiskey, you became a tipsy, clumsy mess and Fred didn’t fancy watching you fall over on his watch.

You and the twins had been friends for years. Ever since Fred knocked you down with his cart in King’s Cross your second year, you’d been best friends (once he offered to buy you a cauldron cake, of course). Fred wasn’t about to keep being responsible for your falls, unless you were falling for him.

“Hey sweetheart, you wanna sit for a bit?” Fred asked. “You’re gonna topple over in those heels. I’m gonna set you down and go grab us some drinks.”

Fred gently settled you down on a couch and left to grab a drink. But by the time he came back, he could tell you were getting properly sloshed from the glassiness of your eyes and the way your face looked. Fred wasn’t too far behind, having had at least three cups of butterbeer throughout the night and nursing the fourth. Or fifth? He’d lost count.

Fred flopped down beside you and handed you a cup of butterbeer (though he was sure it had to be at least a little bit spiked) while he downed the rest of his own cup of firewhiskey. You’d already found your way into Fred’s side and now lay sort of sprawled on the side of his body and over his chest. He couldn’t say he minded, though.

“You’re so comfortable.” You mumbled into Fred’s chest. Fred was thankful you were both wasted enough not to notice how red his cheeks grew.

Fred lost count of how much alcohol the both of you had drank and before he knew it, you were kissing in the halls of the boys dormitory and his hands were all over you. Fred couldn’t recall how you’d gotten into this situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Fuck me, Freddie.” you murmured into his mouth, and he went with it, alcohol still coursing in his system. If he were sober, he wouldn’t have gone so willingly, but you were sighing into his mouth and kissing his neck and running your fingertips in places you normally didn’t. Fred’s self control was gone.

“Yeah alright,” he found himself saying as he pulled you into his dorm room and the two of you became tangled in the sheets.

‘Cause we’re friends, we’re just friends // until we drink

You woke up in Fred’s bed, not an unusual occurrence. You snuggled deeper into his side before making the horrifying discovery that neither of you were wearing pants or tops or anything—well, Fred had a sock that you could feel against your bare feet.

“Oh Godric, what have we done?!” you gasped, and promptly fell on the floor after your abrupt scooting away. Fred groaned and finally opened his eyes.

“Sweetheart?” He asked sleepily. “Where’d you go?”

“Fred, where are your clothes? Where are my clothes while we’re at it?” You scrambled to grab a blanket to cover up. Fred blinked down at you from the bed and then realized what had happened.

“Oh. Um.” He fumbled and lifted the sheets to look down at his unclothed lower half. “I think we had sex?”

“No shit, Weasley. But why?” You deadpanned.

“Come back to bed so we can talk about this.” Fred coaxed you, holding up his own blanket to beckon you closer. He involuntarily gave you a look at his lower half and you averted your eyes while you considered his offer.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you couldn’t resist him. There was no harm in talking it over. After all, the damage had already been done. So you slid into the bed next to him, clutching the sheets to cover yourself.

“Not like I haven’t seen it all already.” Fred snorted. You smacked him in the arm and he cried out an “ow,” rubbing the reddened area. “Alright, so we did a thing.”

“We did more than a thing,” you hissed. “We had sex. You and me.” You gestured between the two of you, “Big problem. Did we even use protection?”

“Considering I woke up with a condom stuck to me and my wand in the bed, stabbing me in the leg, I think so. But what’s the big deal? We’re friends, we had sex one time, and we’re totally comfortable with each other normally. We can just go back to normal, unless you can’t.” Fred shrugged.

“You’re not weirded out by this?” You asked warily, watching his face for his tells. He wasn’t giving anything away.

“No. As far as I’m concerned, we had a really good night. If you want to forget it, we can. Orrrr—” Fred wiggled his eyebrows, “we can make it a more than one time kinda deal and get each other off now and again.”

You looked at him, baffled. Caught you off guard so quickly that you almost dropped the sheet. Almost.

“And you don’t think that would result in one or another of us catching feelings?”

“Nope. Just two mates.” Fred answered in that casual way of his that frustrated you. “We’ve been friends forever, so I feel like this was bound to happen at some point. Why not add some benefits to our friendship and have some fun?”

And so you did.

Nobody would know // you’ve seen me without clothes

Nobody knew what happened between us and you still weren’t sure how. You could’ve sworn George knew, but Fred seemed to be keeping everything quiet and it made you want to scream.

You didn’t sleep together often. But it did happen. You got too drunk one night after the Quidditch cup finals where you won and woke up in his bed again, cuddled into his side wearing his Quidditch jersey. You got a good test score and shagged in a broom cupboard somewhere on the third floor. Over and over again, you’d just casually end up having sex with your best friend and it was wearing down on you.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t like the sex. Godric, it was the best you’d ever had, not that you had much to compare it to. He always took care of you and never pressured you to do anything you didn’t want to, but you found it hard to ever say no to him, saying yes again and again as you got each other off.

The longer it went on, the more you started looking at Fred in a way that wasn’t friendship and it scared you.

We’re just friends until it’s late and all your roommates are asleep // All of a sudden got your hands all over me

You started reading into all of Fred’s actions. He was already super touchy and had been forever, or at least as long as you could remember. But now you watched everything. He would sling his arm around you in class, watch you during meals and other times when you’d catch him looking, and he made every excuse to brush your hands together. Had he always done that?

The thing is, he also flirted with other girls. He flirted with Angelina and Katie and a few other girls from your year who weren’t taken. He met them before or after class and joked with them at parties and meals. And while you were always at his side, you just weren’t sure if he was acting differently since you’d started this friends with benefits thing or if you were just imagining things. Could he be catching feelings? Were you catching feelings?

The questions plagued your mind each and every time you ended up in his bed, whether you both were drunk or not.

We never talk about what’s going on // we’re casual, we’re nothing // we’re the furthest thing from loving

It wouldn’t be so bad if you could talk about it, but you didn’t really know how to bring it up without bringing attention to the fact that you were confusing yourself. It was growing increasingly clear the longer this went on that your feelings for Fred were absolutely nowhere near platonic anymore. They were bordering on love and that scared you. It scared you so much.

And Fred? He was still so nonchalant about it all. How could you talk about it? He was still your best friend, but this wasn’t something you could just ask him about. So you buried it.

We always act like it’s nothing // like we’re just having fun

As the trysts went on, your feelings started hurting. Because while you may have Fred at night, the Yule Ball was approaching in a week and Fred hadn’t asked you. He’d asked Angelina right in front of you. Threw a paper in her face and mimed dancing with you sitting right next to him. And of course she’d said yes. Why wouldn’t she? Fred was amazing and everyone knew it. Especially you.

That was the last straw. You’d stood up and exited the hall as soon as you felt it wouldn’t tie you back to Fred’s very public display and promptly ran as far away as you could to have a good cry.

How could you sit here and be upset when you and Fred had never decided if you were going to be exclusive or how long this would last? You didn’t feel you had any right to be upset with him because it wasn’t his fault you’d fallen in love with him.

And there it was, the truth about your feelings. You were in love with your best friend and he didn’t know. At this point, he couldn’t know.

George was very confused when Fred asked Angelina, knowing that you and Fred were fooling around. How could he not know? He knew you and Fred thought you were a neaky and that no one knew, but it was so obvious. It was even more obvious to George that you and his brother were in love with each other, but you both were clearly too stupid to realize it or tell the other one. So George asked you to the ball.

I don’t care  // I do though // I want more // Maybe I don’t

“So, when are you going to tell him?” George asked as you waltzed on the Yule Ball’s dance floor. The question froze you in place and you looked up at him in shock. “You think I didn’t know what you and Fred have been up to? We share the same dorm, sweetheart.”

“I thought no one knew.” you answered slowly, daring a glance over at Fred and Angelina as they twirled around the other side of the hall. You swore you were imagining it, but you felt like Fred looked angry. You always used to know how he was feeling; you could read it in his eyes. But now things were different.

“I don’t think anyone else knows, but I know you and Fred better than anyone. I can tell this is killing both of you, you more than him.” George said, nodding over towards Fred who had finally stepped off the floor and was getting a glass of lemonade. “You should tell him before you both get hurt.”

“I’ll think about it.” Your voice was a whisper as you answered, your thoughts spiraling.

So, you took your leave. You knew where the twins had a stash of firewhisky and you took the opportunity to liberate a bottle from under their bed to have while you contemplated what George had said.

You told yourself you’d only drink one glass, but one turned to two and two turned to three. And then Fred was waltzing into the room, one thing led to another, and you both ended up tangled in the sheets once again. It was sloppy and disorganized and left you feeling even worse when you’d finished, so you left once he fell asleep, tiptoeing back to your dorm where Angelina was asleep in her own bed.

Then the tears started and they didn’t stop until you’d cried yourself to sleep.

It doesn’t make sense // ‘cause we’re just friends // until we drink

For two weeks, you’d managed to avoid Fred’s wandering hands and kisses. You’d avoided ending up in his bed. And you were worse off for it.

Fred didn’t understand what was going on. He knew what he had been feeling the whole time. All he knew except for that was you’d both been having a good time, and the night of the Yule Ball changed everything. No longer were you sitting next to him at meals or while studying. You’d requested a seat change in the classes you shared together, and Fred was distraught. So he turned to the one person who knew him best.

George groaned once Fred finally ‘fessed up about what you and him had been doing for the past few months.

“You’re a bloody idiot, Fred.” he snapped. “She’s in love with you and you keep mucking it all up with your flirting with other girls, especially Angelina, and not treating her as a person. I mean, honestly, when did you become so thick? You both were friends, best friends, before you slept together and now you’re both stupid. She’s in love with you.”

Fred blinked at his brother as thought about what had just been said. And it all made sense. But you weren’t just in love with him. He was also in love with you and he had to do something about it.

We’re not together, but we’re not not together // I kinda like it, but I can’t do this forever

Fred searched for you everywhere. You weren’t in any of your usual spots and it was starting to worry him, so he searched for Harry next.

“Harry, mate, I need to look at the map for a second.” Fred begged, hoping the younger Gryffindor wouldn’t refuse him, and he didn’t. He quickly unfolded it, unlocked it, and found your name in the kitchens of all places. “Thanks, mate!” he shouted as he threw the paper back at Harry.

It didn’t take long to get to the kitchens and even less time to tickle the pear to get inside where he found you clad in a batter-splattered apron, baking something with a few of the house elves. Dobby sat at the counter next to you, babbling about something or another, but he was the one who saw Fred first and tugged on your sleeve to get your attention.

You turned around, eyes wide as you took in Fred’s disheveled appearance.

“Fred? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Fred bit out finally after a moment of awkward silence while he searched for what to say.

“We’ll finish this, miss.” one of the other house elves squeaked as they took your bowl and mixing spoon from you. It only took a snap of their fingers for the batter to fly into the muffin tins you’d been greasing just a few minutes before, and you sighed watching it. Your apron was removed quickly before you stepped out into the hall with Fred.

“What do we need to talk about?” you asked, voice quiet as you looked down towards your feet and twisted the end of your skirt between your fingers.

“Would you look at me first?” Fred asked, frustrated that you couldn’t even seem to look at him and he was trying to bare his heart to you.

And then you looked up, your eyes glossy, and you looked so beautiful that Fred forgot what he meant to say. He ended up grabbing you by the waist and kissing you, pressing you up against the wall of the hall. You squeaked in surprise, but melted into the kiss anyway. Until you thought about it and pushed him away.

“Stop that!”

“I’m sorry,” Fred started, “I actually had something to say.”

“Then spit it out.” you snapped, fingers brushing over your tingling lips.

“I—I,” he trailed off, running his hands through his hair and pacing right in front of you. It was stressing you out.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

You stared at him, blinking rapidly, trying to figure out if Fred had just said what you thought he did.

“And not just because we’ve slept together. I’ve loved you for years, really, and thought this was the only way I’d get to have even a part of you. It’s been killing me these last few weeks when we haven’t spent any time together, whether in bed or even just studying. I miss you and I love you and I don’t want to lose you because of my mistakes. George reckons you feel the same and I hope you do. I’m a right tosser and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, effectively shutting Fred up. He never stopped talking anyway, and it was one of the many reasons you loved him.

“I love you too,” you whispered once you’d let him go. Fred chased your lips with his own, kissing you again and again.

“Can I ask you to be my girlfriend then?” he asked between kisses. You giggled, giddy with the fact that you weren’t losing your best friend. Not even close. He was becoming yours in more than one way.

“Sure, but you’re taking me to Hogsmeade on an actual date first.”

“Done. I’ll even buy you anything you want from Honeydukes for putting up with my stupidity for this long. I love you.”

You laughed, letting him kiss you over and over again, happily trading kisses of your own with your own sentiments.

And when you walked back into the common room, George whispered “Thank Godric,” because finally you’d both figured out your issues and things could go back to normal. Except now, George figured he might be getting even less sleep.

We’re casual // we’re nothing // we’re the furthest thing from loving ‘til we drink

[m-jelly]

Hi, Jelly 😘 What about Levi and reader as adoptive parents? Let's say they adopt a little girl from an orphanage. It would be interesting to see moments in their lives: they took her from the orphanage, they bring their daughter home for the first time, her first birthday in a new house, she calls them mom and dad for the first time)))

I changed this a little bit to fit with Levi a little more, hope that's okay.

Hope for Clover

Levi x fem!reader

Future AU, soldier Levi, Captain Levi, married couple, fluff, romance, adoption.

When a major battle on another planet finally comes to an end, Levi returns home to you after being away for two weeks. As the soldiers return to their homes, Levi goes back to the planet you live on together with a new addition to the family. Clover is a little girl now orphaned that Levi saved. The two of you discuss what to do with the sweet three-year-old and decide to become her parents.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a

@youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn

@bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @emilyyyy-08 @levistealeaf @pelicanpizza

@hideandgopeep @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird @searriously

The vids were praising the legion galactic army for facing off against a race of beings that wanted to consume the whole of the galaxy. Multiple races banded together with the humans for freedom. The last stand against them was on a planet near the edge of the galaxy and it seemed like everyone won.

It made you happy beyond words to know that the galaxy was safe once again and your husband would be coming home. You used to be a soldier and had incredible tech skills. You met Levi by being assigned to his ship while he went on special missions. One thing led to another and you ended up becoming lovers, then married.

After you got hurt badly during the galactic war, Levi urged you to take a step back, so you did and your job was to help them from a distance. Levi and you had even moved to a planet known for its pure beauty and to help those recovering from wounds. It was full of rolling purple hills, blue flowers, two bright moons and suns, vast lakes and beaches. It was heaven for you and Levi.

As the shuttle arrived with your husband, you felt a knot in your stomach as you wondered what condition he was in. He always told you everything was fine and then would come back with scars, so you could never predict how he would be. The last two weeks were the hardest of all the battles, so something had to have happened.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you stood with only a few others waiting for the arrival of the soldiers. You watched as the other men got off first and people parted leaving you alone and no husband. You panicked a bit but another shuttle landed, this had to be your husband but you weren't sure why he had special treatment, he never liked that.

Your eyes widened when Levi stepped out with a little three-year-old girl on his hip. "Levi?"

He walked closer allowing you to see the little girl had a robotic leg, she'd clearly lost her leg in the war. "Hey." He leaned over and kissed you passionately. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." You smiled at the green-eyed little girl with thick ginger hair, she was a vision. "Who is this princess?"

The girl giggled. "I'm not a princess."

"Really? How odd because you look like one."

Levi grinned. "This is Clover. I...I saved her...she...she's alone." He looked at you with sad eyes. "I...I was hoping..."

You took Clover from Levi and hugged her. "Do you want to live with me and Levi?"

She nodded. "Please!"

You hummed a laugh. "Wonderful. Well, let's get you inside and well-fed." You placed her on her feet. "Let's go."

Levi placed his hand on your lower back. "Thank you."

You kissed Levi's cheek. "She's an orphan, we want kids and she needs us. She's ours now."

"Yes, she's ours." He smiled softly. "I still want more kids."

You giggled. "We'll make one of our own someday, but for now we have a wonderful daughter to care for!"

Clover had adored her new home and it flustered her that Levi and you bought her so much and gave her a big room. She had a lot of toys to play with and you both were gentle with her, so she knew she could do things at her own pace.

Levi would take her to the doctor once a week to make sure her robotic leg was working well and taking to her body. The two of you would teach her things and play with her often, but she was still very shy when it came to you. She was close with Levi because they'd seen war together, but you were new to her.

You worried that she wouldn't like you and didn't want you as a mother, but Levi told you how much Clover loved you. He told you Clover always asked him to tell her stories about you, to show her pictures of you and to tell her all about the things you liked. Clover wanted to get very close to you, she was just very shy.

After learning from Levi about Clover's adoration for you, you began noticing how she would peep at you, spy around corners, watch you as you moved around and look out for you when she was with Levi. It was adorable how she was with you and you would always say hello and often she'd stay with you, but sometimes she'd blush and run off to a new spot to spy on you.

One day you were sat in the garden working on a gadget to assist you with your fruit growing. You were humming a little song to yourself when your soldier training kicked in, you could sense Clover was close. So, you pretended not to notice, like she was a cute little kitty.

Clover shuffled closer to you, her cheeks pink with a blush and a rabbit plushie in her arms. She peered over your shoulder to look at what you were doing. "Mm...what you doing?"

You smiled softly. "I am making a little device to help me look after my fruit."

She walked around and stared. "Fruit?"

You nodded. "I'm growing all kinds of fruit from different planets. I also grow veg too." You looked up at her. "This device will be placed in the ground and it'll project a grid. Anything inside the grid will be monitored and I'll be updated on if they're ready to harvest or if they become sick."

She crouched and looked at the device. "Coooool." She looked up at you and gave you a toothy grin. "You're smart! I want to be smart like you."

"Well, I can teach you a few things. I used to do a lot of tech for the Legion Galactic Army."

She sat down. "Wow."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "I used to do a lot for Levi and his crew. I was the reason their suits kept them safe, their weapons protected them and the ship stayed flying."

Her eyes sparkled in delight. "Wooooow." She stared at your right hand and arm to see it was robotic like hers. "Umm..."

You wiggled your fingers at her. "Lost this in the war, but Levi saved me. He saved us both it seems." You smiled as she touched your hand. "We match."

She grinned. "We're twins!"

"That's right."

She crawled over and sat on your lap. "I like you." She hugged you tightly. "You're so pretty and cool."

You hugged her back. "Have you been trying to be with me like this since you arrived here three weeks ago?"

She nodded shyly. "Yes."

You kissed the top of her head. "You're so sweet. I'm here for you, always."

Clover had been with you and Levi for a few months now, she was very comfortable with the two of you. She would help you both out and always want to be around you. She would follow you around the most, which warmed Levi's heart that she'd taken to you so much.

Today was her birthday and you'd planned everything for her to ensure she had everything she wanted. This was probably the first one she would remember. So, you and Levi wanted to make it extra special.

You helped Clover change into a cute dress for the day before helping her comb her thick hair. "There we go."

Clover grinned. "Thank you." She reached up and held your hand. "Ready."

You walked with her into the living room to see Levi had finished the last touches. "Happy Birthday, Clover."

Clover gasped when she saw all the decorations, the balloons, banners, hologram animals and bunny-themed things everywhere. She released your hand and hurried forward to see the presents waiting for her, a big cake you had baked and Levi wearing an outfit that matched Clover and you.

Tears filled Clover's eyes. "Mm..."

Levi knelt down. "Happy Birthday, kiddo."

She ran over and jumped into his arms. "Thank you."

He hugged her tightly. "I can't believe you're five! You're growing up so fast."

She sniffed and ran over to you. "Mummy! Hug!"

You dropped to your knees as the wind was knocked out of you. You hugged her as you felt your heart race. "Wh...what...did you call me?"

She pulled back and kissed your cheek. "Thank you, Mummy. I love you."

You smiled brightly through your tears. "I love you too, sweetie."

Clover smiled at Levi. "Thank you, Daddy! I love you."

Levi shuffled over and hugged you both. "You're very welcome. We love you so much."

She released you both and smiled. "Do I get a birthday wish?"

"Of course."

You nodded. "What do you wish for?"

She giggled. "To be a big sister!"

Both you and Levi looked at each other, your cheeks heating up. As Clover ran to open her presents, you and Levi started thinking about her cute wish. As you watched her open her presents, the two of you held hands and cuddled up to each other.

Clover hurried back over to you both and lifted her bunny. "I also want to gift this to the baby." She lowered it. "Mummy, Daddy? Will you make a baby?"

Levi tugged you closer. "I think a nice big family would be good."

You giggled. "Me too."

[shallowseeker]

Recruiting Dean

Via the Nightmare-land of all his current anxieties.

Zach I - Zach II - Zach III - Say it ain't so - Cas can DIE?! - Bobby, demoralized - Dean and Cas's mutual, pissy fatalism - Love blooming, personal space - You're not much fun, so why am I laughing so hard? - Dean's anixety at being a vessel - Sam: Everybody please panic, I'm a vessel, too!

Disclaimer: I love ALL The End meta, from the ones that look for hidden meanings and the ones where Chuck is hiding incognito in his first-row seats, but I thought this would be a Hella a fun way to ask this question.

///

What if The End is all about Dean and Zach? What is almost everyone IN IT is Zach, tapping into and mocking Dean's churning ruminations and anxieties?

What would that analysis look like? What might we predict? We know that Zach recruited a Jehovah's Witness, and after Dean's call with Sam, Zach entered the motel to try yet another sales pitch.

Zach got into Dean's bedroom. But maybe this time, Zach's going deeper. Perhaps he got into Dean's dreams, too.

In the previous Zach adventures, he tried to give Dean a vision of a loser's life, one Dean wouldn't be able to stand: a corporate yes-man who listened to NPR and steamed his latte like a wuss. Remember his pitch in It's a Terrible Life?

ZACHARIAH: Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean, quit whining about it. Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?

But just like he will later miss the mark on Adam's personality a bit, he misses on Dean at first, too. Dean cares about family.

"My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo." // "Are you saying my family isn't real?"

///

We'll hear Zach make more pitches to Dean in the beautiful room in Lucifer Rising. Time-honored things that, from his experience, tend to work when recruiting humans, from happy memories to food to TV fantasy to food to sexual adoration:

ZACHARIAH: Try a burger. They're your favorite. From that seaside shack in Delaware. You were 11, I think. DEAN: I'm not hungry. ZACHARIAH: No? How about Ginger from season 2 of "Gilligan's Island"? You do have a thing for her, don't you? DEAN: Tempting. Weird. ZACHARIAH: We'll throw in Mary Ann for free. DEAN: No, no. Let's... bail on the holodeck, okay? I want to know what the game plan is.

///

ZACHARIAH (to a crying Dean): And when it's over... and when you've won... your rewards will be... unimaginable. Peace, happiness... two virgins and seventy sluts.

///

We'll get a whiff of AU Zachariah's tactics with a nervous, broken Kevin Tran in s13, too:

Meredith Glynn had intended a more... grayscale view of Zach's intentions via @spnscripthunt-inactive, but either way is very good. Very Zach:

Anyhoo, more on the Jack-Zach interactions later. For now, I'm just thinking about the whiff of Zach's and upper Heaven management's style of recruiting tactics through Kevin's words:

LUCIFER: Kevin, what are you doing, getting mixed up with Michael? ... KEVIN: ...Michael's taking me with him to paradise world so I can meet hot women. LUCIFER: I'm sorry. What?

Jack, who had also been tortured (stabbed, burned, drowned) by Zachariah, tried to reach out to Kevin. Mary even more so:

KEVIN: Y-you don't understand... then the end of the world happened, and everyone around me-- my friends, and my… my mom-- they all started to die. ... KEVIN: No! Michael says… that when I get to Heaven-- when he lets me into Heaven-- I'll get to see my mom again. I don't care! You don't understand. I… You don't know the things that I've done. I just want this to be over.

Now, we see the truth. Kevin was never interested in the recruitment line, something-something hot women. Not really. That was just a boisterous shield to hide the deeper pain.

He just wanted to see his mom again.

///

So. When we reach 5x04, we see Zach adjust fire with Dean.

In 5x01, he tried a different, more forceful way of recruiting Dean, making him feel terrible about himself.

...I feel like looking at The End as a nightmare land of all of Dean's anxieties is a really fun way to revisit it.

But before that, if we consider this question, what might we predict for Zach to uncover, based on all the stuff Dean is feeling Weird (TM) and Stressed (TM) about right now?

Based on all the other stuff we've been thinking about, I'll make a small list of potentials, starting with the Bobby-Dean confrontation at the end of last season...

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Thanksgiving

Thank you, anon, for this prompt. I would never have thought of that one myself.

To all my friends who celebrate: Happy Thanksgiving. I certainly am very grateful for y'all!

Characters: Fingolfin and a slew of others...(and Finrod)

Words: 1 850

Warnings: resentment, regrets, reproaches, a lukewarm bird, and a lot of love (it's not that serious, don't get mad!)

Fingolfin stared at the ominously glistening carving knife in open dismay.

“You can’t tear the bird apart with your bare hands,” Anairë cautioned under her breath. “Please, do not make a scene about blades. Not today. Not with all of them here.”

He nodded ponderously and turned to the assembly, entirely made up of his blessedly numerous descendants.

“Good evening, I welcome you warmly at this unprecedented feast of profound gratitude for the invaluable blessings we have received. Let's rejoice rather than elegize morosely. Anyway, my name is…”

“Eru bless, he’s forgotten his own name,” Aredhel stage-whispered, which earned her a punitive glare from Turgon and a hard jab in the ribs from Fingon.

“Ñolofinwë,” Fingolfin finished his sentence slowly. “Fingolfin? Golfin?”

He sighed deeply. “Call me whatever you want—some of you I have had the honour of meeting, and others I am looking forward to getting to know.”

“The food is getting cold!” Argon complained—he had died young and had not sired any children, so his stomach’s yearnings were of more importance to him than the painfully awkward introductions at their first annual family reunion.

He was not even sure that one could call this a “reunion” when they had never been gathered in this constellation before.

“I agree,” Aredhel piped up, much to the chagrin of her surly, overly quiet son who just gave her a pleading look. Maeglin suffered still under the repercussions of his betrayal, and he felt supremely uncomfortable, sitting motionlessly at the same table as his uncle and cousin.

“’Rissë,” Anairë intervened sharply. “I, for one, am delighted and grateful to see so many generations congregated here.”

“Turno is the best,” Fingon jeered, but his voice was warm and infused with benevolent humour. “He has single-handedly secured a legacy for our family. You’ve won that one, I think--isn't that another thing to be thankful for?”

“You forget my wife,” Elrond reminded him suavely but fell silent instantly as the memory of his brother and daughter welled up like acid in his weary heart. “She begs you to forgive her absence, but her mother…”

“Is absolutely right to wish for her only daughter to be by her side,” Anairë mediated once more with impeccable grace. “As the mother of a wayward daughter myself, I understand that only too well.” “As far as I can see, I sit here with my son as well. Why don’t you hound Fingon, your golden child, or Argon, your precious baby, about their abject failure to produce valiant heirs to join our merry round of traitors and murderers?”

“’Rissë!” Fingolfin thundered with much less parental indulgence than his wife had shown. “Can we please just share a meal and exchange some pleasant stories? I would very much like to hear about the lives of my descendants.”

“You could have been there,” Fingon muttered, “but you had to go and get yourself killed.”

“Says the one who went to the exact same place to save his ginger menace of a…friend?” Turgon commented dryly.

“He could well have been there; he would not have found you anywhere though, would he?” Fingon shot back, fire flaring in his eyes.

“And that’s why I didn’t want any weapons,” Fingolfin sighed, clutching the carving knife to his chest and casting dark looks at his progeny.

“Children,” Anairë cried. “Children! What shall the young ones think of us if we squabble and argue like fishmongers?”

“I’m used to it,” Elenwë declared calmly.

“So am I,” Idril laughed. “Sorry, I have known my very own father for too long not to be used to his sharp tongue,” she added when the others stared at her in shock.

“Grandfather has ever been kind,” Eärendil—who had been dispensed of his duties for the evening—remarked generously, patting his son’s hand. “Worry not, dear, it’s normal.”

Elrond merely shrugged. “I have spent large parts of my life with Lady Galadriel, Gil-Galad, and Celebrimbor, besides the Dwarves, the Hobbits, the meddling wizards, and the many Men who have come and gone. Thus far, I’ve heard nothing that could even scratch the surface of my equanimity!”

Fingolfin rubbed a weary hand over his eyes—when Anairë had announced, an unimaginably long time ago, that she was carrying Fingon, he could never have imagined what profound joy and heartbreaking misery was to follow.

Looking over now at the beautiful, sensible creature he had desperately loved and despicably deserted, he felt his throat tighten with overwhelming emotion.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Anairë laughed. “I can safely claim that this wilful, wicked streak is entirely passed down from your side.”

“Mother has disavowed us, and there is no food,” Argon exclaimed dramatically.

“How do you know?” Maeglin asked in a cautious tone; he was ever eager to see others shift blame because it made him feel less wretched about his own shortcomings.

“I’ve spent a long time in close conference with both Nerdanel and Eärwen,” Anairë explained as she plucked the lethal knife from her husband’s hand and started cutting the festive offering of meat and fruit into thick slices. “We have come to the conclusion that the alarmingly wild and reckless streak in all of our beloved children must surely come from the same source.”

“Again, my mother-in-law and wife are nothing if not measured and wise in their words, actions, and decisions,” Elrond opined calmly.

“So you say,” Aredhel mocked. “I could tell you stories about your cherished mother-in-law that would make your blood curdle.”

“Ha!” Fingolfin cried. “Surely, ‘Rissë’s savagery cannot be laid at my poor father’s feet!” He sought his wife’s sparkling gaze once more.

With a chortle, Anairë strode over and pressed a tender kiss onto his high, chiselled cheek. “They are very much yours,” she hummed. “Taking off in a huff on a petulant, vexed whim, riding into lethal danger with a song and a prayer and doing exactly what they were told not to do seem to be constants in your family. Did not two of three of your father’s sons die in ludicrously brazen and irrational feats of unparalleled heroism?”

Fingolfin grimaced. Anairë, smiling still, meanwhile made the platters of steaming food go around the table—much to the delight of Argon and Aredhel—so their spell-bound guests could at least feast while witnessing the epic showdown between long-estranged spouses.

“Resentful words from you, wife,” Fingolfin muttered dejectedly.

“Oh, but love,” Anairë chuckled soothingly. “They are also faithful, hopeful, and laughably stubborn thanks to your blood. I shall grant you this: I have doubted your sanity but never your love. So, I always knew that this alone would be enough to make sure that you’d be returned to me in time. Nothing can detain your line where it no longer wants to abide, and nobody will ever be able to keep you from pursuing what you earnestly desire.”

“They have your patience,” Fingolfin replied, mollified and touched by her understated confession of enduring love and imperishable admiration. “No doubt, the ability to remain—hidden and watchful—despite their yearnings and duties comes from you. Though I am less rash than my half-brother, I admit that I have never managed to emulate your graceful talent of lying in wait, ready to pounce at the first good opportunity.”

As one, they turned back to gaze lovingly upon the faces of those who had sprung from the source of their long-forgotten, innocent hopefulness.

Discreet munching was halted as the heavy, noble regard of their patriarch fell upon each one, and more than one positively squirmed under the benevolent scrutiny of one so old and allegedly wise.

“I’ve died too early,” Argon then said flippantly. “Maybe Turno wants to tell us about his hidden city?”

“I do not,” Turgon barked around a scalding hot potato—a staple in every household since the arrival of the Hobbits—and glared at his youngest brother. “I built a city, people came, people left, people died. Then Gondolin and my humble self fell. Let’s skip that part.”

Catching Aredhel’s grateful look, he nodded imperceptibly and even tried to smile at Maeglin; what was meant as a gesture of goodwill and forgiveness was marred by the potato grotesquely distending his cheek still, though, and—as was his wont—Turgon simply shrugged it off.

“How about you, my darling?” Elenwë said, addressing Idril. “How have you fared?”

With a small sigh of fatigue—for she had told the story many times before—Idril launched into a tastefully abbreviated recounting of her life after the fall of Gondolin.

When her narration came to an end, Eärendil, eager to speak to others again, took the tale up where his mother had left off.

Soon, all eyes turned on Elrond who had lived a long time and had been a key player in a conflict all of them had missed on account of being detained in Mandos or mending in the gardens of Lórien at that time.

“Well…” Elrond mumbled, unsure where to start and how to explain the circumstances of his youth without reopening old wounds and reawakening grievances and family feuds. “After—”

He fell silent. His father sat right beside him, and he did not seek to make him or his mother feel strange or guilty about the unfortunate incident with the Silmaril at the Havens of Sirion.

Was it even recommendable to bring up the unfortunate stone? How about the ring of Sauron? Did they call him Sauron, or would they know him under another of his many aliases?

He groaned quietly.

“Káno and Russo took you, yes?” Fingon said encouragingly, his eyes feverishly bright, and his lips pale with tension as if he was forcefully holding back a flood of questions.

Elrond exhaled audibly and steepled his fingers against his chin in a bid for more time to find an appropriate answer that would not kick off another slew of recriminations and fighting words.

“AH! We have arrived just in time to listen to our dear cousins being disparaged!” A bright, chiming voice resounded from the doorway, and Finrod strolled in, accompanied by his sister and his niece. “I have taken the liberty of escorting darling Artanis,” he explained.

“You’ve come for the gossip,” Turgon commented dryly, but his eyes lit up at the sight of his old, much-beloved friend. “Have a seat; you are indeed right, and we are about to hear about the parental talents of our Fëanorian kin.”

“Does that make me the worst of all?” Elrond asked dolefully. “Am I the compounded result of all the noxious strains of which Lady Anairë has just spoken?”

“Of course not, my dear,” Galadriel declared decisively. “Whatever good was in any of us, I am certain that you young ones must have harnessed it.”

Her warm, proud gaze shifted to her daughter who merely rolled her eyes at her and went to kiss her husband tenderly.

“Go ahead,” she whispered under her breath. “Tell them about the many people you’ve known and loved. Who knows? You might plant the seeds of forgiveness and renewal on this very night.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

-> Masterlist for November (by @cilil)

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Auge (Kingdom of Ichor)

Age- 32 (immortal)

Location- New Olympus, Olympius (The Royal Palace)

Personality- She's a comfortable loner who values time to herself, but doesn't actively avoid people. She's self-aware, independent, empathetic, & loyal to those she cares about. She's aromantic and single.

Auge comes from a well liked family in the pantheon. Her older sister is Alectrona (goddess of the sun & morning) while her fraternal twin sister is Anatole (goddess of sunrise). Auge & her twin are part of The Horae.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. As the goddess of first daylight her other powers/abilities include limited photokinesis, limited circadian manipulation (as it relates to dawn), and limited aerokinesis. She's at her most strongest in the hours of 4 am through 6 am.

Auge lives in an apartment suite at the royal palace on Mt. Olympus. The interior design is a pastel daydream of blue, pink, light yellow, white, & lavender. There's flowy silk curtains, decorative knit blankets, and cotton furniture. On the walls of her bedroom, it's covered in wallpaper with a design of skylarks, sing thrushes, robins, & blackbirds.

She likes working the early hours at the palace's gift shop before it opens, mainly doing stock and inventory.

Notable features of Auge's physical appearance includes a septum piercing, understated make-up, as well as styling her hair in various crochet hairstyles which she does on her own.

A go-to drink for her is the homemade banana almond butter smoothies she makes. She also likes white tea, almond milk, ginger lavender iced tea, ginger ale, sparkling peartinis, & botanical beer. Her usuals from The Roasted Bean include a small iced tea, a large chai latte, and an olympian sized vanilla sweet cream cold brew.

After her quick shift at the gift shop, she'll spend the rest of her morning jogging through the main courtyard of the palace.

Far from the only divine pair of twins in the pantheon, Auge and Anatole are as different as night & day. Aside from when the group as a girl's night out, Auge prefers her me time, soaking in all the hours to herself. She finds it annoying when her sisters try to invite her out to spend time with the family that has two of the most revered light deities- Hyperion (Titan god of heavenly light) and Helios (Titan god of the sun).

She usually gets around through use of her bike and public transportation.

In The Horae, Auge is closest to Arktos (goddess of the night sky & constellations) and Nymphe (goddess of self-care).

A guilty pleasure for her are the hash browns from The Hearthside Diner. She'll sometimes order six at a time!

She loves the homemade brown sugar scrub masks that Nymphe makes!

Auge is a proud cinephile! Her home entertainment system is always in use through her extensive DVD collection. She also visits the cinema a few times a month where she saves the ticket stubs in a photo album. Auge loves watching dramas & tragedies- opting for films that are spoken in Greek. She's also a frequent visitor of the annual Athens Film Festival as well as some of the smaller indie movie festivals.

She loves when her big sis brings over homecooked meals- her personal favorite being the orange glazed fried chicken and fluffy buttermilk waffles.

Auge also frequents a beauty supply store in the Chant du Cygne neighborhood to buy packs of crochet hair, twists, faux locs, & braids.

She can't go to sleep without her plush stuffed skylark (which is named Toffee). Auge won it at a game at the Lunarworld Theme Park, where she went with Taygete & Arktos.

A go-to thing she loves getting from The Bread Box is the monte cristo sandwich along with a roasted quinoa salad.

In the pantheon Auge's also friends with Hesychia (goddess of quiet, stillness, rest, & silence), Parnes (one of The Ourea), Ioke (goddess of pursuit, tumult, & battle rout), Nárkosi (goddess of sedation), Palioxis (goddess of backrush & retreat), and Taygete (one of The Pleiades).

She loves the Olmorfia's plushful pastel line of soft hued nail polish. Some of her favorite shades are "hue to the artist" (purple pastel), "powder pose" (a blush pastel pink), "white tea" (a light grayish white pastel), & "coasting skies" (a light baby blue pastel).

Auge loves snacking on her homemade trail mix of dark chocolate chips, chia seeds, sundried dates, roasted walnuts, and cashews.

Her all time favorite film is Μια υπόσχεση θλίψης (A Promise of Sorrow).

Daylight Savings Time is unofficially her favorite holiday!

Auge's aware of the slow growing MGM movement, but she personally doesn't mind her status as a minor goddess. She loves the freedom her status allows to live a mostly anonymous life.

She opted against modeling for Zeus' lingerie line Heavenly Spark. Auge's the only one of The Horae to do so.

She's been thinking about adopting a kid on/off for the past few years.

In her free time Auge enjoys birdwatching, swimming, reading, knitting, yoga, listening to music, scrapbooking, photography, going to museums, bowling, fishing, kayaking, and baseball.

Her & her sisters LOVE eating breakfast for dinner. Auge's signature dish is crab-and-avocado eggs benedict topped with shiitake mushrooms.

"Daylight reveals color; artificial light drains it."

[oddcryptidwrites]

Knight of Dawn, Chapter 8 [Not Your Typical Fairytale]

TW: Transphobia

The meeting lasted much longer than expected. It was 6:30 pm, before anyone could escape. Piers’ shirt was soaked through with sweat. As they stepped into the hallway, they took off their jacket and slung it over their shoulder. The cool air was more than welcome after the stuffy environment of the conference room.

They stood at the door and shook hands with everyone else left. At last, Grady came walking out, alone.

“Why’d you wait?” She asked them, and they matched pace with her, walking towards the main part of the Palace.

“I don’t want to walk alone.” 

“Well you’re going to have to. I got a meeting tonight with Benj, Sei, Gavin, and the miraculously appearing Lopez tonight for dinner. We’re going over everything you said. I’m so excited.” She drawled, rolling her eyes, “Please save me. Dad’s gonna ask me so many questions about that meeting and in all honesty I wasn’t paying attention for the majority of it.”

“Good luck then. I’ll see you tonight.”

With a mock salute, the duo split up, heading towards what they needed to do. As soon as Piers was on their floor, alone, they tugged off their sweaty clothes, tossing them in the hamper. Their dinner outfit was practically the exact same, but they traded their white shirt for a black one, so they wouldn’t stain it by accidentally spilling soup. They changed in record time, making sure they looked presentable and even putting in the effort to gel their hair back a little. They wiped the sweat from where their mask had been, and found a new gray one which wouldn’t get in the way while they ate, even if it did expose a little bit of the scarring on their face.

Then, Piers got distracted and finished the chess game with Constance they’d left halfway done. (They won, even with the AI setting cranked to the maximum difficulty.)

When Piers finally arrived downstairs for dinner, without their better half at their side, they found themself fashionably late, as always…but not too late. Pausing in the doorway, they scanned the crowded parlor room, taking notes on everyone who’d shown up for dinner.

President Kritzer from South Carolina. New Orleans Parish Commissioner Broussard and Baton Rouge Parish Commissioner Afar, but not their Queen, who hadn’t even come, as predicted. One notable face was missing from the room, which disappointed them; President Dubois was nowhere to be seen. 

Across the room, Piers spotted the man with ginger hair, the one who Grady had been sitting with. He was the only secretary or bodyguard or whatever he was present. Stepping further into the room, they pulled their jacket closer around them, as bodies pressed against them. They tried to blend in and not disturb anyone as they worked their way through the crowd, to where the man stood in the far corner.

“Hello! I don’t recognize you from the table earlier today.” 

He looked up from the floor at Piers, the slightly shocked look on his face morphing to more obvious discomfort.

“Your Majesty.” He gave a tight lipped smile, “I’m Sec. Darcey Olson. Dubois has a horrible migraine at the moment, so I’m filling in for him. He said you’d probably be looking for him, and he’s still willing to speak after dinner.” Piers offered him a hand to shake, and he did so, but not without a little hesitation. They already knew exactly who he was but, they just had to check- 

“Your last name, Olson.. any relation to Marcie?”

“She’s my older sister. We haven’t spoken in a while. I don’t know how we have the same parents.” 

“Marcie can be a bit…bossy.”

He eased, uncrossing his arms a little bit, “She’s been like that since before I can remember. We have a decent age gap between us, so we didn’t grow close as kids. Marcie seems to have forcibly made Hansel and Gretel do sibling bonding.”

“Hey! I see you’ve met Piers.” Councilor Johnson came up behind Piers, knocking playfully into their shoulder, before greeting Darcey with a joking military salute.

Darcey laughed, “Yeah. It’s strange.” 

What the hell do you mean strange?

Johnson and Darcey began to chat, and Piers zoned out, listening to a conversation behind them between Councilors Mason and Miles. They angled themself just a little bit so they could see the edge of Mason’s face as she spoke.

“...a threat. We all saw the video, with the effigy. With Adele gone, they think the monarchy and by extension the government is weak. We’re all doomed if Jillian Piers can’t stop being so fucking wishy-washy and take an actual stance and do something. We’ll be better off throwing her to the wolves and letting the monarchy end.” Mason whispered, but she was definitely being a little loud on purpose.

Miles scoffed a little, keeping their voice low, “Fantasia, please. That kid is our only chance. If Piers dies, we’re all doomed. We gain more from keeping them around. Adele abdicated. Piers is Monarch. It’s a new era, and I honestly think they’re gonna do better than most of us give them credit for. I’m gonna make the best of it, and retire comfortably in a few years…

Damn. they’d never heard Miles say anything good about them. Ever.

“For fucks sake Shanna, Adele’s dead. You don’t have to suck the ‘queen’s’ dick anymore-”

Piers whipped around, but Miles was already down Mason’s throat, raising her voice. “I may let you slide misgendering me, but the moment you imply Adele was not a woman, I will say something. She may have been a bitch, and I may not have liked her, but at least I respected her.”

The surrounding people, including Piers, were shocked into silence. Councilor Mason rolled her eyes with a huff, and stormed off into the crowd. The paused conversations resumed.

“I didn’t think you’d do that.” was the first thing Piers could think to say to Miles. 

She stiffened a little, as if she was going to make a rude comment, before letting out a long sigh. “It’s…You understand. I’ll stand up for others before I stand up for myself. I’ve only ever presented as female while serving in government positions, and Mason still makes purposefully transphobic comments.” 

Piers nodded, “I appreciate it. And if Mason ever gives you issues, please let me know.”

“Thank you.” Miles actually smiled at them, before changing the topic, “I guess it’s time to let everyone in. Marcie’s daughter told me it should be ready at 8:15 and it’s 8:20 now.”

“I’ll help you with the doors then.” 

Piers and Miles squeezed through the crowd, to the doors leading to the formal dining room. In sync, they opened the doors, and a gust of cool air blew into the parlor. Like cattle, the crowd followed the herd through the doors, flooding into the dining room. They took their places at the long table, their spots assigned with tiny nametags. Piers gestured for Miles to head to the table, and she thanked them, before letting the heavy door fall shut behind her.

The room’s loud chatter died down as Piers approached the table, standing behind their seat like everyone else. Once again, they sat at the head. Every set of eyes were latched upon them, waiting.

“My esteemed guests, I’d like to thank you for joining me these few days in celebration. Yesterday marked the beginning of a new era for this state. You’ve heard me talk enough earlier today, so with no further adieu, let’s eat.”

Piers took their seat between Councilor Johnson and Councilor Sidney. Chairs scraped and voices rang as everyone took their own seats, ordering food and chatting with old friends and new enemies. Waiters came and went, taking orders, pouring drinks, delivering plates, and clearing the table. Guests ordered whatever they wanted off the digital menu, as many servings as they wanted. The table stayed full of plates and drinks.

Councilor Sidney ordered four large bowls of the vegan corn chowder right off the bat. Gretel was the one to deliver their food, and she put a hand on their back, whispering something in their ear. Sidney flushed red. 

Prime Minister Cohen got a platter of roast beef dropped in her lap, and she profusely apologized to the poor waitress, instead of the other way around.

Councilor Miles went through three glasses of sweet tea, before one of the waiters just brought her a whole pitcher, which she finished off in record time.

Darcey played with his food and separated it into piles, but he seemed too nervous to eat anything. He excused himself from the table after a few moments, his face green.

Councilor Mason stirred the pot, towards the end of the table, starting arguments for no reason other than to start them.

Gretel tapped Piers’ shoulder as she sat a steak in front of them, accompanied by roasted asparagus.  

“Watch your food.” She warned, and they thanked her. Piers nudged the asparagus to the side with their fork, then cut up the steak. It was so raw it still bled (perfect), and they grabbed a roll from one of the baskets, soaking up the juice.

Piers didn’t want to look like a heathen, but they were starving. They could eat anything and everything put in front of them. 

Well, unless it was green beans. 

They hated green beans. 

And they didn’t eat shellfish either, because that would send them to the emergency room.

As dinner dragged on, and the alcohol started to flow for real, tongues finally began to loosen.  People tended to talk a little bit more, and spill their secrets. King Chastain had a new mistress. Tennessee’s lieutenant governor had been found killed, a shotgun blast to the head. Louisiana was beginning preparations to remove Queen Consort Gauthier from power, due to her excessive absence. President Dubois supposedly got married.

“President Dubois got married?” Piers whispered to Councilor Johnson, who shrugged, before speaking down the table a little bit.

“Hey Darcey, did Dubois get married? That news didn’t make it up here?” He sounded shocked. 

Darcey choked a little on whatever he was eating, and took a long sip of his wine, before he finally spoke. “Uhhh…yeah, after his last election. He and his partner are both pretty quiet about it, to protect the both of them…plus his partner is just as shy as he is.”

“Is he really shy, or does he have something to hide? That guy ain’t normal. I met him years back and he’s fucking weird.” Councilor Miles drawled as she leaned back in her chair, saying almost exactly what was on Piers’ mind.

Collective sounds of agreement sounded from around the table; it seemed like Piers wasn’t alone in their curiosity. Darcey’s hands shook so bad, he almost dropped his glass.

“H-He’s just…he has issues, with people…”

“That’s why he’s not here? Does he actually go to anything? Or did he make you come to dinner because he’s too good to eat with the other leaders? He’s been invading half our borders.” Councilor Miles continued, going a little past teasing as she leaned on the table. Darcey sunk into his chair, face bright red. Piers wasn’t sure how much more they’d be able to stand themself, from the second-hand embarrassment.

“Shanna, that's enough.” Councilor Johnson intervened, thumping his fist on the wooden table to get her attention. She slid back down into her seat, muttering curses at him, and the room awkwardly went back to talking. Darcey excused himself from the table for the fourth time that night, but this time, he didn’t come back.

Once most had finished dessert, and a few more people had started to leave, Gretel slipped a piece of foil-wrapped cake into their hands. “My uncle wants you to take this to Dubois. Apparently, the cake is Dubois’ favorite and he’s already waiting in the Rooftop for you. I’ve got this from here.”

Piers thanked her, again, before standing and addressing the group one last time, telling them to enjoy themselves and that they were retiring for the night. A chorus of faint goodbyes wished them farewell as they left, slipping out of the dining room and into the Palace. Moonlight streamed through the large windows to their right, which overlooked ATLZoS. It was dark, but the city was visibly alive. Spitting in the face of an apocalypse of the undead, it was alive. 

The halls were eerily quiet as they approached the center of the Palace, heading towards the main elevators. This dark didn’t scare them, like the Lab. This was home. These were the halls they’d slid down in socks since they were young, and the same halls they’d probably die in.

Seconds after they pressed the button for the elevator, the doors opened. Piers stepped in, hesitating for a second, before bumping their wrist against the scanner and selecting the top floor. The Rooftop was a common room, just for the Royal Family and their most favored guests. It was a strange choice, in Piers’ opinion. They paced back and forth as the digital numbers ticked up.

When it stopped, they readied themself once more, shoulders back, head tilted up, feet firm on the ground.

Nothing was going to go wrong. Piers was going to make sure of it.

TAGLIST (dm to be +/-) @author-a-holmes @soul-write @flowerprose @ceph-the-ghost-writer @theglitchywriterboi @when-wax-wings-melt @thechaoticflowergarden @lyralit @penspiration-writing @samatedeansbroccoli @charlesjosephwrites @italiangothicwriteblr @thetruearchmagos @pineapple-lover-boy @unilightwrites @sanguine-arena @bardic-tales @joshuaorrizonte @blind-the-winds @circa-specturgia @hymnonlips @aloeverawrites @the-stray-storyteller @writeblrsupport @starlit-skys @kyuponstories @guessillcallitart @magic-is-something-we-create @talesofsorrowandofruin @writingonmymind @imslowlydisintegrating @worldsfromhoney

NYTF WIP PAGE

[estasticvanni]

//Angst

TsukiHina but TsukiYama?//

“It’s obvious.”

It was a shock really,a shock when Hinata accidentally told everyone he was dating the stuck up ,blond ,middle blocker.

“What did you say.” Kageyama was the first one to react. For all he knew ,Tsukishima was unbearable unless you were Yamaguchi or something.

“I didn’t say anything!” Hinata was embarrassed,how could he just tell everyone like that?Maybe he needs to tape his own mouth shut..

For that entire evening,Tsukishima was bombarded by the nosy teammates of his. Sure he didn’t even expect the ginger to actually keep a secret with that obnoxious mouth of his but so soon..?

That’s how Tsukishima and Hinata were known,the unexpected couple that nobody saw coming. Even after the second and third years graduated,the new first years couldn’t believe it.

“Hinata and Tsukishima?! Are you sure about that Kageyama Senpai…?” That’s just about all their reactions when Kageyama told them,He exaggerated it though!

The couple were going strong,sure Tsukishima hung out with Yamaguchi more,maybe he spent more time at Yamaguchi’s house or maybe he would be caught behind the gym..kissing the freckled boy…

It was obvious. Very obvious to Hinata. “Nice kill!” Kageyama’s voice snapped the red head out of his thoughts. The first years we’re playing against eachother “That’s out!” The volleyball flew past the court line and landed at Hinata’s feet,He kicked it towards the court “Thank you Hinata senpai!” One of the first years bowed and Hinata smiled. Guess it is nice being called “senpai”.

Hinata watched the match from the bench,swinging his feet back and forth. Sure the thoughts of that were heavily on his mind but they couldn’t waver his love for volleyball. The match ended,the first years were tied..?

“Ah shit! We totally would’ve won if that dude stopped saving the ball..”A first year with blue eyes spoke,Hinata was surprised at the tie though,was this really possible..? “Shrimp!” That voice so familar..

Hinata tilted his head up,looking at the blond in front of him. “Still looking up, short stack?” Hinata frowned “Whatever!” Normal couple bickering. But not for long. “Come on,let’s go” Tsukishima began walking out the gym and Hinata followed after,they stopped behind the gym,’coincidentally’ Yamaguchi was there..

Hinata stopped and looked at the two,it was obvious. “Oh,I see then..” The blond raised his eyebrow “You don’t have to bring me all the way out here,you’re way too obvious saltyshima.” Tsukishima couldn’t be shocked..well he could but the ginger wasn’t as dumb as he was before

Hinata walked off,He wouldn’t let something like this get in his way,sure he was definitely gonna cry when he got home but it’s for the best if he keeps a level head and continue chasing his dream.

didn’t feel like making Hinata a sad miserable teen today,I mean I could but heck naw!

[a-dark-sanctuary]

THE DREAMER, THE BLEEDER, AND THE BREATHER

Therion took a deep breath, the crisp Stillsnow air chilling his lungs and freezing his skin. He stood without his cloak in the snow, white flakes hanging suspended in the air. His nose, cheeks and fingers were red, but he didn’t mind. He accepted the numb throbbing, welcomed it even.

“Therion,” a voice called from somewhere behind him. “Therion, you don’t ought to be out here in naught but your nightclothes,” Alfyn said, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. Therion shivered under the sensation.

“I ought not be here at all, Alfyn. I ought to be dead in a riverbank somewhere in the south, yet I lived, and live I must.”

“...At least put on some shoes,” Alfyn pleaded. Therion sighed. “No, Alfyn. I will not wear shoes. The snow feels nice.”

Alfyn fell silent, and Therion didn’t even notice that he’d left until he heard the inn door shut.

Primrose sat on her bed, staring forlornly at the bandage on her calf. She was grateful for Alfyn’s aid, but now she had the nigh-impossible quest of returning the favour. Nothing she did seemed to equal the same as his saving her did.

She tapped a dry quill against her notebook, pondering silently. As she thought, the door opened, and she shut the notebook, hiding it and the quill under the blankets.

Alfyn sat on her bed, cheeks pink- presumably from the cold outside. “Alrighty, mind if I take a look at that leg of yours?”

That was another thing Primrose found frustrating. Therion at least had the sense to be wary of her fae traits, but Alfyn treated her the same as he treated everyone. Unwaveringly foolish and eternally kind. Primrose wanted to cry.

Alfyn gently peeled the blood-stained bandages away, wiping at her mangled leg (though he remarked that it was healing nicely) with alcohol, and re-wrapped it in clean gauze. The entire time, Primrose remained silent and sullen.

“There ya go! All cleaned up. Let me know if it bothers you, okay?”

All Primrose could muster without sobbing was a curt nod.

Alfyn sank onto his bed, thoroughly exhausted from a day of collecting herbs, crafting tinctures and tonics and salves, and dealing with two very angsty humanoids. Frankly, he was proud of himself for not acting on his impulses. Picking Therion up and bringing him inside, hugging Primrose when she looked close to tears. Any unaware onlooker would be shocked, even insulted, but Alfyn knew better. There were boundaries, certain limes that weren’t to be crossed. Therion and Primrose didn’t handle physical touch well, nor did they know how to react to the level of affection and kindness Alfyn offered them.

Well, he would continue offering that kindness and affection. It was up to those two how much of it they wanted to take at a time.

As he pondered what might have happened to those two, the exhaustion won over, and he drifted off, having a very odd dream about a green-clad man with ginger hair, and three men with crow tattoos.

APUSGGHGFGH…… AAAAAAAAAAA

MAV!!!!!!!!!!!! ARARARARARGDBHSRARARAR GOING FERAL INSANE OVER HERE

this is!!!!!!! whoa!!! I Iove this!!!!!!

alfyn needs to respect theri’s brooding sessions in the snow smh they’re very important to him. also alfyn describing his friends as ‘two very angsty humanoids’ is amazing. he’s got the two grumpiest travelers with him and he loves them with his whole heart

and alfyn….. alfyn being so unrelentingly kind, no matter what…!!!!! he’s respecting theri boundaries and… “it was up to those two how much of it they wanted to take at a time’ IM BASHING MY HEAD AGAINST A WALL HE CARES SO MUCH!!!! ABOUT HIS FRIENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!

[optimistredsox]

2 July, BOS @ TOR, 5-4, win

One of my best friends is a big Blue Jays fan so I am doing him a favour and keeping my mouth fucking shut about the current season record they have against the Red Sox. I think it’s the least I can do. He’s a good guy. His team is pretty good. Except, you know, for when they play us. Today was a little bit more Scrappy Rollercoaster than yesterday, with things not getting off to a great start for our crimson-stocking’d heroes. Garrett Whitlock only managed an inning before needing to leave the game with the genuinely horrifying phrase “elbow tightness” and the Sox once again had to seek many arms to get through nine. But it worked out ok. And even though the Jays took an early lead, we never let it get us down. Smart, speedy base-running, timely homers, relentless pressure on the opposition. They did all of that. It was a great game. I loved it. Let’s look at the bright sides.

Jarren Duran knows that fear is the mindkiller, but apparently he also knows how to hit the shit out of a baseball. He went five-for-five with FOUR doubles and three runs scored. At least one but probably two of the doubles were down to him being impossibly fast. Awesome.

Nick Pivetta was very good in long relief, going 4 innings and giving up one run with six strike outs. Good job Nick Pivetta.

Raffy Devers was 3-for-3 with 2 RBIs and actually managed to steal a base. I saw it with my own eyes. 

Dugie had one hit, but it was the game-winning dinger in the top of the ninth that legit saved the day. He then caught the last out of the game. 

Justin Turner was also very fast today, turning a throw-out at first into a run by being aggressive and smart and super fast. He was helped by a bad throw but it was very impressive nonetheless. Way to go, Ginger Gandalf.

Joe Jacques, having never pitched in the ninth inning before, went out in the bottom of the 9th and threw a 1-2-3 inning, getting the save and almost making me ok with the fact that he pronounces his surname “Jakes”. That’s some fucked up shit. But way to go, Joe. I think I’ll just avoid having to say your surname.

We won!

We got the sweep!

We’re over .500!

The Yankees lost! What an awesome Sunday!

[waifuoftomonori]

Venn Diagram (maybe not finished yet but good enough)

I think it’s really funny that Shinra has more in common with both Akifusa and Tomonori than they have with each other. (Okay, technically just one more bullet point in Shinra and Tomo’s case, but still.)

Typed (with some small explanations and extra details) below the cut:

Tomonori-Exclusive:

"why fight when the battle is already won?" (not just as a line of dialogue, but as a philosophy; Tomo's a tactician more than a combatant and wants to end conflicts without bloodshed if possible)

politically astute / scheming bastard

gets excited over books

sly, subtle smiles, not big grins

scariest when smiling-- well, hmm, maybe "scary-calm smile" is more accurate, he can be pretty scary when he glares too

the only one I can't imagine ever fully submitting kinkily / sexually (he would try, or claim he'd try, but just end up running the show anyway, the way he normally does as Shiki's "servant")

pessimist

never depicted shirtless, goddammit

overactive filter (i.e. holds back what he really wants to say way too often, to the point where it's actively detrimental to his happiness, and disguises it with a polite smile and/or an artful change of subject)

stabby drunk (or just lecture-y but that doesn't fit the theme)

has canonically been responsible for restraining / tying / paralyzing so many people that there's no way it's not even a little bit of a kink

other LIs are genuinely, on occasion, scared of him (okay, by "other LIs" I mostly mean Akifusa, but he's gotten the others to panic a few times too, and was called out by Aterui for being a "cold-hearted bastard" or a sadist or something along those lines)

writes poems for fun

dual-wields

Shinra-Exclusive

officially the top dog (clan head)

uses words like "yo"

sexually assertive (more so than the others, at least)-- however, I want to clarify that I think Tomonori is kinkier, which is different

probably the closest one to a balanced Switch (before you rush in here to tell me he's obviously a Dom from his interactions with the MC, consider: 1. his first request upon winning the bet in his Game of Submission story was to have her call him a cutesy nickname that made him blush whenever she used it; 2. every time he's ever interacted with Yukinojo; 3. the fact that gentle Doms exist and Shinra would have no idea how to deal with one)

malfunctioning filter (i.e., his brain goes "crap, I don't want to reveal my true feelings, quick let's blurt something else out, anything!" and it ends up being rude and/or ignorant)

grabby drunk (how much of his behavior was due to alcohol in that one story is debatable, but I think alcohol had some role in it)

gives nicknames to friends

Akifusa-Exclusive

shameless submissive

apparently healthy relationships with family

absolutely no filter (i.e., will default to saying what is exactly on his mind at any given time, unless someone like Tomo or the Princess tells him not to)

sappy drunk (prone to weeping, lavishing his loved ones with praise, etc.)

has admitted he's weaker than his female LI (I love my humble king)

Tomonori & Shinra

childhood trauma

insult intelligence of people they care about (Tomo's never done this for the Princess, but he does it daily for Akifusa)

have attempted to sacrifice themselves for their beloved

red-eyed gingers

gave piggyback rides through the mountains after their beloved fell and damaged her ankle (weirdly specific one but there you go)

know how to perform at least one sealing ritual

canon ended before their weddings (justice for my boys)

have been supernaturally saved by kisses / a kiss (bloody kisses in Tomo's case, adding yet another kink to his list)

"don't call a grown man cute"-- the way Shinra said it made him even cuter, whereas Tomonori took the opportunity to "punish" Shiki with prolonged cuddles during which she noticed "up close, his body is surprisingly large, reminding me that he is, after all, a man"

Tomonori & Akifusa

no siblings

Kifu gang

personal attendants to Shiki / second-in-command

have died in at least one canon timeline (God forbid that anyone in a Voltage game die unless the game is specifically about their death and they're a ghost or something, or whatever the point of that one game I've never played is) (Akifusa died in Gentoka's route, as did Tomo, probably, and then Tomo also died in Akifusa's)

"just" humans

have wielded the Sword (I was originally going to say "to kill the demon", but technically I don't think Akifusa's ever delivered the death blow to the demon with it, just knocked it out and forced it to retreat a few times)

everything to do with their setting (Heian-era Japan, isolated mountain village, etc.)

genuinely hate and distrust the playboy in their group of LIs (okay, well, Akifusa dislikes Furutsugu, I don't think Aki hates anyone)-- as opposed to Shinra's latent sexual tension with Miyabi

Shinra & Akifusa (buckle up, there's a lot of them)

swords (changed to "single sword" once I realized technically Tomo uses two of them, he's just not as deranged about them)

horns

too quick to trust others

shout a lot

butt of many jokes / much torment amongst friend group

5'6"

incredibly easy to read

wide, sunny smiles

a lot stronger than they look-- also, heal at insane rates

would ask / have asked to be called by a cutesy nickname (Akifusa has never asked for it in canon, to my knowledge, but he totally would)

easy to make blush

ultimately optimistic worldview (believe people are inherently good and so on)

were canonically subjected to bondage (in a non-directly-sexual context, but still brow-raising)

has done at least one incredibly stupid, frankly memeable thing (even if only a meme in my own head)-- Shinra fasted to the point where he tried to eat a table, and Akifusa was almost scammed into buying a plain ol' rock in the capital market twice

cute CG of them eating sweets exists (dango for Shinra, chocolate-- surprisingly-- for Akifusa)

probably an Aries, if astrology were real (or at least have one somewhere prominent on their chart)

All Three of Them

childhood friends with female love interest

live on / near shrines

easily shippable with at least one other male LI from canon (why are there no Shinyabi fics? am I just looking in the wrong places?)

deserve happiness (subjective but screw you)

[thenewnio]

OTOKOYO Summerween Edition: Game START!

Olly: Hey, why's there eight of us? I think there's supposed to be seven.

Ginger: Yeah, you're right...

Cera: Who cares? I'm not scared of monsters!

The game begins...

---

Cera finds an unusual statue.

"Who left this dumb thing here?"

But as she leaves...

"Grrrrr..."

---

Emma: It's weird that nobody talks about Otokoyo after playing.

Squirt: Yeah, my brothers and sister played it, but I couldn't get them to tell me anything about it.

Emma: Oh! Hi there. Wanna join us?

---

Meanwhile...

Irving: It's pretty dark here.

Buster: And no demons so far. Maybe Cera's right.

Ginger: Obviously.

"Wait, where's Olly?"

Uh oh.

---

Soon, Squirt, Emma and Alessandra come upon the scene...

Ginger's Teddy!

Emma: What happened here?

---

Meanwhile, Irving and Buster hide.

Buster: I think the coast is...

Buster: RUN!

Irving: I'm runnin' like the wind!

But just when they've think they've escaped...

Irving: We're dead.

---

Meanwhile...

The Liver-Taker, having caught up with her prey, sets her sights on the girl who insulted her.

Cera: P-Please don't eat me!

Cera tries to run, but...

Nearby, Emma can only watch in shock.

"Uh, guys? We gotta go."

They abscond!

Soon they reach a mysterious tower...

Squirt: Now what'll we do?

"Wait, what the-?"

The Child-Taker catches his prey off-guard!

Squirt: Emma!

But what's this?

Betrayed and unable to save Emma, Squirt enters the tower alone.

At the top...

"Ready or not..."

"...Here we come."

Squirt: Alessandra, you're...?!

"That's right. I'm 'It'."

Alessandra: Everyone has been caught but you. You won the game, so now you're the new “it”.

Squirt: Huh?!

The winner!

Happy Summerween!

See you again on Halloween!