#All this therapy all these good choices all this work and so little to show for it some days

[marragurl]

Saxaphone player Gallagher has not left my mind since the jazz night art dropped AND THEN Robin saying Halovian’s innately have good voices and Sunday used to hum lullabies to her as kids happened in the 2.2 special program, and I’m sure you guys can see where my unfortunate Galladay heart is going with this.

Whoever decided to make this art, I love you. I hope your pillow is cool every night, you’re never stuck in traffic, and your water is refreshing with every sip.

Also the art of Sunday with the White Gentlemen drink in the S.P.A.R.K.L.E jazz night event has also spiraled into me delusionally thinking that’s his go to drink. Which is hilarious since Robin has hinted before that he seems to have a massive sweet tooth in her letters.

(Sunday how do you even make holding a drink menacing, Sunday please get some therapy-)

So imagine this:

Pre 2.0 Galladay, where they’re both wary and suspicious of each other but didn’t do anything outright. Sunday slowly began to visit Gallagher’s bar whenever he had time to observe the Hound, initially on the down low just to get a sense of what he was working with and what to keep an eye on. He always gravitated to that one corner booth that every bar had with the most privacy, and just stalked there for a few hours before leaving. (Smol menacing birb in a tree vibes)

Gallagher obviously knew that Sunday was doing this (even though everyone else seemed to somehow completely miss him, Gallagher wouldn’t be surprised if Sunday was doing some weird Harmony mind tricks), and after the first few “stakeouts,” he bit the bullet and actually approached the table to engage with Sunday, on the off chance this was some weird “test of loyalty” by the Halovian to see if the Hound would swallow his pride to serve his so-called masters.

Nothing terrible happened, but he remained passive-aggressively polite when serving him, and Sunday remained passive-aggressively cool-headed in response. There was some snark of what dear “sweet-toothed” Sunday would want at a bar, and an icy reply of “aren’t you the master drink smith? Why don’t you show me those skills you boasted about?” which led to Gallagher being petty and giving Sunday the White Gentlemen drink, both for the story behind it being such a metaphor for Sunday, and because it was on the more bitter side of alcoholic drinks.

Sunday wasn’t too against the drink; it wasn’t something he would have ordered if it had been his choice, but it wasn’t a bad drink by any means. He couldn’t help but continue to drink it even after Gallagher left his little hidey booth to go back to the main bar, but he’d never stoop so low as to complement the Hound. Of course, he never ordered anything else from then on, only White Gentleman. In fact, over time it seemed to slowly get better, the flavors grew on him, and he couldn't help but look forward to it during difficult nights in the Dreamscape.

If Gallagher tried to needle him into a different drink, Sunday just bit back a “oh? Admitting defeat? I thought this was your best drink for me?” with a little smirk while Gallagher had to use every bit of self-control to not punch him in the face.

As time went on, the bar slowly became a place Sunday frequented to not quite relax, but to get away from the hustle and bustle of Penacony and his duties as one of its main faces. The stresses slowly started piling up, especially with the Charmony fast approaching in a few months and all that came with it.

Gallagher didn’t seem to loosen up regarding his attitude with Sunday, but he did get better at shoving down the visceral hatred he had for everything to do with The Family and Sunday as time went on. He didn’t get soft with Sunday per se, but he definitely kept an eye out for him, and definitely knew when to cut off his drinks on days where it seemed that Sunday wasn’t all that there for their usual veiled comments towards one another when he went to serve him his drink.

It started small, with Sunday staying later and later until sometimes he was the last one to leave the bar to return to reality. Gallagher wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some weird long-term test Sunday was devising, especially since he still seemed to be the same ruthless Family member, the same Head of the Oak Family, when Gallagher was working as a Bloodhound outside the bar. For some reason though, within the enclosed space of this strange sanctuary, it was almost peaceful between the two.

One night, there was something wrong when Sunday entered the bar during Gallagher’s shift. He saw a bit of a crowd near the small stage that was within eyesight of his little hidey booth, it seemed some of the musicians of the live band were arguing? He watched as Gallagher came over, seemed to try to speak with the group before honing in on one of the musicians who had been making the most noise and seemed to be about to get physical with the rest. Sunday watched as Gallagher picked up the musician by the scruff of their suit with one hand and carried them towards the doors and lightly tossed them out.

(It was the first time Sunday had actually seen Gallagher perform anything resembling the actual duty of a Bloodhound. It only hit him that he’d only ever seen the other when giving reports, orders, or at the bar. Why was this so shocking to him, he’d seen the man’s arms before, hard not to with his slovenly dress and messy clothing style, as if he couldn’t bother to hide away his imperfections from the world, not like Sunday who refused to be seen by the world, to dare to show one thing off about himself despite his countless failings- he’s getting far too distracted by one meager showing of strength, focus Sunday)

There had always been a live music segment. Sunday was curious to see what would happen with the band missing a member, but was distracted by Gallagher placing his usual White Gentlemen in front of him before heading back to the musicians without a single word to him. Gallagher took a moment to speak with the rest of the band, who seemed to be coming out of their shock and took on worried looks. Sunday could only watch in muted shock as Gallagher went behind the bar and came back with a case, opening it to reveal a saxophone. He then went on stage with the rest of the group, positioned himself further to the side and in the back amongst the shadows within Sunday’s line of sight, and played with the band for the rest of the night.

Sunday couldn’t look away.

He was frozen as he watched Gallagher seamlessly transition from song to song, taking only small breaks to continue serving the other patrons before heading back in. Sunday only remembered about his own drink when his gloves began to get wet from the ice melting into condensation on his glass.

Something felt off within Sunday, and for the first time since Robin’s debut, he couldn't help humming to the music of the band, music that wasn’t of his own sister’s making. He couldn’t help but remember those little concerts the two would have, taking care of his little sister, his only world. He would do anything to keep the Harmony, to keep their family going. When was the last time they truly spent time together? Before he became the Head of the Oak Family? Before he couldn't recognize his own smile?

He was so lost in his thoughts, in memories he thought he buried, that he didn’t realize that it was once again closing time, and he was once again the last one left. He only snapped out of it when Gallagher came by to grab his empty glass, only quirking a questioning brow at him before heading back to the bar.

Gallagher had been keeping a quiet eye on the Halovian that night from the back of the band, in the shadows he felt the most confront in when in the Dreamscape of Penacony. He had watched Sunday’s eyes glaze over, and the only reason he hadn’t felt offended by the seeming disinterest was the look in the other man’s eyes reminding him of his own when he looked in the mirror. The same look of shame, regret, loss, longing, of the wishes to regain everything he had lost. The same look he strove to hide under every bit of the facade he had crafted of this new self, but came back all too often with every reference of the Family found within his prison in the Dreamscape.

Maybe it was the shared nostalgia within his own heart, that little bit of his true self that he thought died when the Family tore out everything that made him who he was, that made him return behind the bar and begin making Sunday another White Gentlemen, giving Sunday a small nod to beckon him over. He wasn’t expecting anything from it, and he masked his own surprise when Sunday actually left his little shelter to come and take a seat in front of him at the bar. Even while out of it, Gallagher made note of the quiet confidence the other still carried himself. Nothing seemed wrong to anyone else looking at him, only for the lost look in his eyes.

The first time in the many months that they’ve been skirting around each other, and finally they seemed to be face to face.

It was quiet as Gallagher made Sunday his usual drink, a drink he had been slowly changing over the months to be sweeter and sweeter that Sunday never quite seemed to notice, or if he did, he never said anything, only seeming to savor it more each subsequent night. Maybe not even Gallagher noticed his own changes to the drink, subtle as they were.

It was quiet as Sunday took the finished drink, and it was quiet as his eyes slid over the bartop to see the saxophone case laying open with the instrument inside. It was quiet as Gallagher followed his eyes, as he came out from behind the bartop to take the saxophone out and take a seat in a chair only one seat down from Sunday’s. It was quiet as Gallagher began to play to his audience of one.

It was quiet as Sunday quietly hummed along.

It was quiet as they both knew that it would not last.

OK yea so this was all because I heard ‘La vie en rose’ at the end of the Jazz night event and went “Damn I wish that’s Gallagher playing on his Sax” and then we spiraled.

Uh. Idk what it is with me having a small ship moment which then spirals into a full blown writing session. My mind blanked out and as I came to I find out that I made a whole ass little one shot over here then completely forgot about it WHOOPS

So yea, hope my fellow Galladay enjoyers… enjoyed! I think I’ve slowly begun to crave… not domestic or fluff per se from these two, but after every AO3 fic being super dark between them (which I get! They are the toxic yaoi kings of Penacony as of writing this, no one is denying that!) I think I want to see them be explored in a more melancholic sense. Not quite the “forbidden” love angle, but in the “damn we kinda have some parallels, and maybe in another life we could have gotten along but there’s too much baggage and anger, both historically and currently to really even try anything”

I have this feeling this may not be the last time I write about these two… is Galladay going to be the ship that gets me to actually use my AO3 account?

[kowabungadoodles]

dumping some thoughts in the tags

[intotheelliwoods]

(Apologies in advance for this lmao) So. It's been a bit since the first keychains went out, and I was planning to hop on the bandwagon of people who posted pictures of Poptart dangling out windows and tucked into beds, but life happened and I missed that train haha

Instead, I'd like to let you know something.

The past month or so, I've taken a good hard look at my health and tried to change it. I'm disabled, mentally and physically, and it takes a lot of work just to accept that, much less to improve my quality of life by dealing with it.

And I didn't expect it when I first started reading your comic, because it was just hugs and fun and pretty colors, but I think...I think 2al has made it easier to come to terms with my body, my limits, and the ever-expanding list of opportunities that I'm realizing I can still take advantage of as a physically disabled person.

Sprout got to be uncomfortable with his missing arm, use a prosthetic as an emotional crutch of sorts, and learn how to deal with it with help from Big Leo. Big Leo and Sprout got to experience and show the fact that an aid is an aid and not a permanent requirement. Poptart gets to explore life without a prosthetic by choice, and the challenges, and rewards, that come with that.

But most importantly, they all exist. You didn't shy away from the fact that they ARE disabled characters now, with trauma and healing and options for aid and different reactions and ways of dealing with it. The positives, the negatives, the little things that no one really thinks about (Sprout's cold robot arm and how it's not as comfortable to hug), you took it all into account as an integral part of their character and story.

And I didn't know I needed to see that, but here we are.

So I wanted you to know that, even though I don't have cool or funny pictures to share of it, my Poptart keychain goes with me to physical therapy, regular therapy, and everywhere I go with my cane. On bike rides and to check the mail. To doctor's appointments and visits to the store.

He lives with me while I learn to live with myself - a reminder that I'm not the only one going through this, that I can be disabled and still happy and silly and loved.

And that's amazing. So thank you so, so much <3

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 8

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story* Teasing, flirting, nudity, bathing together, fingering, a smattering of dirty talk. Summary: This wedding night is special for more than just the happy couple. Notes: A little light smut for your Sunday! Thanks for sticking with us this long, but these two are finally starting to get to know each other. 🧡 As always, please remember that the gif choice at the top of the chapter is not meant to represent reader's physical appearance. In this case, it's for Cameron and Wiley!

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

Not even the nonstop amount of work you’ve been doing for the wedding can stop how much you’ve been thinking about Marcus since he left early on Thursday morning, and obviously Sydney isn’t going easy on you. The merciless, good hearted, happy-for-you teasing started the second you and Marcus came downstairs together the morning after the rehearsal dinner and has kept going through the texting and when you appeared for the actual wedding looking like you had paid a great deal of extra attention to your appearance for tonight. Not even to take away from the bride of course, but enough to look special for the occasion.

It had been so hard to not go back to your apartment after leaving the office yesterday. He had wanted to. So badly. To pick up the conversation and possibly do more than that kiss on the cheek he had thought about the entire time he was on the golf course and in the office. Now, getting ready for the wedding, he pays special attention getting ready so he can look his best for you.

The greenery that has been brought into the gardens, the subtle lighting accents, the clover-shaped place cards, and even the Kelly green silk shirt and matching heels that you picked out to wear with your most flattering suit are all festive for the St Patrick’s Day wedding. Each time you have checked on Joyce and her bridesmaids they have been jittery with excitement but doing well, and the florist was an astonishing ten minutes early to drop off the flowers, so everything is moving along perfectly.

By the time guests begin to arrive, the groom, ushers, groomsmen, and father of the bride are all in place. Considering the chaos this wedding was thrown into just two weeks ago? It might be the best organized night you’ve executed by yourself in years.

He has no problem not being in the wedding party anymore, however, Marcus escorts Joyce’s mother down the aisle to her seat with pride. The accents of his tuxedo had been the same color as the bridesmaids, but he had willingly given them up for her father, deciding on a classic grey accent to contrast for the vest, pocket square, and bow tie.

The only two things that save you from crying during the ceremony — which you always, always do — are how busy you are and how damn good Marcus looks. Through the ceremony and photos you catch glimpses and share smiles, but it takes until cocktail hour before you get a chance to sneak up in his side. “You know it’s bad manners to show up being more handsome than the groom.”

“Don’t think that I did that.” Marcus immediately warms from the inside out at just hearing your voice as he turns towards you. “And you look like you stepped out of a fashion shoot.” He compliments. “Upstaging the bride.”

“I would never.” Just hearing his voice in person instead of over the phone practically makes you giddy, but you demure. “Thank you, though. I will pass the compliment along to David, who is my fashion consultant.”

“Well, the linen suit is perfect with the vivid emerald green.” He smiles as he motions towards the reception. “It’s wonderful and they are beaming.” He smiles at the now family pictures being taken with Joyce’s parents and a large bouquet. While Michael’s parents hadn’t shown, they had sent a flower arrangement so it had made the couple hopeful that they would be accepting of things down the line.

“As long as they’re happy, that’s all that matters.” So far nothing has gone wrong, and you’re keeping your fingers crossed that it stays that way. Or at least, that when something finally does, it will be either small or insignificant enough that you can fix it without the couple even realizing.

“You have a gift.” Marcus praises softly. “Which do you prefer? Running the inn or planning? I’m assuming the day to day for the inn.”

“I do prefer the day to day of the inn,” you admit, looking around the garden filled with reception guests. “But I think I’ll be broken-hearted if I don’t get to help my siblings plan their weddings. I do like it.”

“I can see that.” He reaches out and slides a hand around your body, resting on where the tattoo sits in the small of your back. “You are wonderful and you’ve created a day they will never forget.”

“I won’t take an ounce of credit.” Looking up at him, though, you do smile. Just about as broadly as you can. “I will steal a dance from you later, though.”

“I think we can manage that.” He nods, smiling just as wide as you are. “Let me know when you are free.”

“I’ll come and find you when things are under control enough for me to slip away.” Not that you think it will take long, but there is always potential for things to happen. That’s why you have the radio in your ear, after all. A discreet Walkie talkie on your belt is hidden by your suit it makes you reachable by the whole staff working tonight. It gives you the luxury of stepping away to say hi to Marcus without worrying about a major disaster breaking out.

“Let me know if I can help.” He tells you, knowing that you would never ask, but he will offer anyway. “I can carry a case of champagne or something.”

“You’re a guest.” Never in a million years would you ask him to do any work when he’s attending an event in space you control, and you shake your head. “Relax. Enjoy. Eat and drink. Dance. I’ll come and find you later, handsome.”

He rolls his eyes and grins at you. “I knew that would be your answer, but my offer will stand.”

“Noted and appreciated.” You lean into his side for a brief hug before slipping away again, shooting a teasing wink his way from halfway across the garden as you go.

The garden lights are on. White mixed with green to match the theme of the wedding party and Marcus has danced with the bride and her mother by the time you come back to his side. More than a few glasses of champagne in, and relaxed with his bow tie untied now.

“Having fun?” You may have snuck over to the deejay to ask him to play a slow song, but no one needs to know that you planned it.

“Enjoying myself, but now…” he turns and gives you a slow smirk. “It’s even better since you are here.”

“Oh yeah?” That has you beaming at him as the next song starts.

“Yeah.” He hears the slow, sweet strains of the song and lifts a brow. “Are you here long enough to dance before you flit away, hummingbird?”

“I’m all yours.” It sounds a bit more like a pledge than the playful thing it had sounded like in your head, but that’s okay. You still mean it. “For at least a song or two.”

Humming happily, he holds out his hand for you, watching you with almost tender affection. “We seem to be good at this.”

“Those lessons that our parents insisted on have paid off.” Those lessons don’t dictate how well you fit in his arms, though, or the way you feel drawn into him like a magnet.

“It’s like they knew.” He chuckles.

“We can never tell them,” you snicker, leaning into him a little more as the song goes on, and resting your head comfortably on his shoulder. “We’re still their children, after all. Can’t let them know we think they were ever right.”

“Never.” He had already received a call from his parents after the photos of the State dinner were published, only a case of mild humble bragging allowed before they changed the subject.

“You’ve never told me if you have siblings or anything.” The thought occurs to you almost belatedly, as the world is hazy around the two of you and you like it that way.

“Only child.” He chuckles. “Although I am possibly the only case of single child syndrome in my extended family.” He tells you. “I have twenty-seven first cousins.”

Your head nearly snaps back, wide eyes and a laugh of shock making your face look comically surprised. “I’m gonna need flash cards, aren’t I?”

He laughs, making several others look towards you, curious as to the amusement. “No.” He promises. “Most of the time, we all wear name tags.” He grins. “My family has six sets of identical twins in mix. They decided to make it a family traditional to tag us so no pranks were played.”

“Criminey.” Even on a low huff, you shake your head in wonder. All his poor aunts! “So an only child but plenty of playmates, then?”

“Always.” He laughs. “Always felt like I lived in a zoo when family was around.”

"You must have had hellacious games of Hide and Seek." The huff is replaced with a giggle, imagining little Marcus with all those cousins and all the chaos they must have gotten into. "It sounds amazing."

He agrees with you. “It was a competition to see how long we could last.” He tells you. “Had to stay on the property though.”

“Big family house?” You guess, figuring that his grandparents must have at least had a little bit of land. That’s the image you have in your head of Texas, anyway.

“Ended up having like a family compound.” Marcus admits with a chuckle. “For the summers together.”

"That sounds like so much fun." As the first song bleeds into a second, you don't move an inch from his arms. There's nowhere you would rather be than right here. "My parents are both only children, so I have absolutely zero first cousins. That's how we all ended up with best friends that basically got adopted into the family."

“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Marcus smiles at the image of your family adopting friends over the years, collecting them.

"Don't get me wrong, it's great." It's how you have kept Sydney in your life, and her sister, and your other best friend from college. It's how Alex and David got so close so young, and how Junie and Kiley became so close. "It's just different, that's all."

“I know.” Marcus would never put down your experience. “You might be overwhelmed by my family and think we are all insane.”

"Or I might have a blast." You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if he's really saying that he wants you to meet his family or just postulating that someday down the line it would happen. Probably the latter. "We'll find out when we're ready."

“I’m going home at the beginning of April.” He informs you, wondering if it’s too fast. “You could always come with me.”

From intrigued to bewildered at the drop of a hat, your face morphs into something soft and your head tilts in a gentle awe. "And I thought I was always the one running headlong into relationships with my heart out there on my sleeve," you murmur, realizing that Marcus must be very much the same way. "I—I would absolutely love to."

You don’t have to come of course, but he thinks you really mean that you would want to. “No pressure, of course.” He adds. “We don’t have to be press official or anything. My family is tight-knit, they wouldn’t breathe a word.”

“There is already speculation,” you admit, though you have to shrug about it so it doesn’t upset you that people are speculating about your life at all. “We…didn’t do a great job of not looking enamored with each other at the State dinner.”

“I understand that.” Marcus has read the speculation and seen the photos. Both of you are photographed looking completely taken with the other. “However, when you decided to confirm is completely up to you.” He reminds you softly. “You owe no one anything before that. Not even as the First Princess.”

“It’s more important to me that you know I want to be with you. And that we tell our families when we’re ready. The nation can wait, it won’t kill them to not get gossip right away.” You bite your lip though, leaning into his side again as you dance. “My family is probably going to be very enthusiastic tomorrow.”

“You plan on telling them tomorrow?” He asks, slightly surprised that you would be so willing to say something so quickly. It’s not that he’s been viewed as undesirable, but often the women he dated were more cautious.

“The only thing that would stop me would be if you don’t want me to.” Otherwise, sharing this new step forward in your life with your family is just one more thing to celebrate.

“You’re my soulmate.” Marcus reminds you, smiling softly at the reminder himself. “I don’t mind telling a stranger on the street, let alone people you love.”

When Juan had told you what a romantic Marcus is, you had almost taken it with a grain of salt. A friend talking up his friend to the girl who likes him. But it hasn’t taken long at all for you to see the truth of it shining in Marcus’s eyes, or widening his smile. And a man who wants love is exactly what you have always hoped for. “I’m glad we agree,” you murmur, swallowing around the first time your heart has burst with those words. You’re not going to come out with that full-scale declaration before you’ve even gone out on your first few dates. Before you’ve even kissed.

He smiles even more, his fingers pressing into your hip and lower back, pulling you closer to his own body. It’s not possessive, more protective over you and the moment that is unfurling between you. “Just let me know if I come on too strong.” He asks, knowing that it could annoy some and he doesn’t want to do that to you.

“That’s…usually the warning I have to give.” The striking similarities between the two of you aren’t lost. The way your wishes and dreams and treatment of your partners all lines up…it makes sense why they always say that your soulmate is your ideal fit. Especially in this moment, as your arms tighten around each other and the world seems to stop around you.

He chuckles softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to the edge of your hair. “You will never have to worry about that with me.” He promises.

The way your heart stops completely for a moment at the bare touch of lips to skin before starting back up at double the speed is so telling, and so overwhelming that your fingers dig into his jacket to keep him close. “You don’t have to worry either.”

The moment is perfect and it’s one of those moments that a first kiss is almost required. Like it’s the Hallmark movie it feels like. Marcus stares into your eyes and his gaze flickers down to your lips for a moment before there’s a snort beside him.

“You two look like the newlyweds.” Joyce teases, a broad grin on her face as she leans into the arms of her new husband.

Thwarted for the second time in as many days, you swallow the disappointment but have to appreciate the irony of who’s pointing it out. “That’s your job, today, I think.”

“No way we would want to upstage the happy couple.” Marcus adds, sending them a smile.

“No reason it can’t be a happy day for more than just us,” she hums, grinning again when they turn away to keep dancing.

Marcus laughs quietly as he continues to dance with you. “I think they suspect something.” He teases softly.

“Like I said,” you laugh quietly, beaming at him impossibly brighter. “We’re not very good at hiding it.”

“No, we aren’t.” He agrees, deciding that now is the perfect time to dip you like he had during the State dinner.

The same joyful shout of laughter bubbles out of you that had then, drawing some attention again but this time you revel in it. Marcus’s soothing presence is there to let you enjoy yourself without fear, so that when you wrap your arms around his neck again on the upswing — this time there is no hesitation in following your natural impulse. Your lips find his like you’re coming home again, in a kiss as sweet and bright as the rest of this moment.

He expected the kiss, had anticipated kissing you so it’s a shock to have you initiating the kiss. Eyes widening for a split second before he closes his eyes and leans you down even more. The brilliancy of having him lean into the moment is wonderful, and you suddenly don’t know if your head is swimming from being dipped or from him. Not that you care. Not that any of it matters. Because the electric spark of it is so brilliant you could sing.

Marcus has kissed women, lots of them. Some of them women he had loved, but nothing compares to this kiss. He had always heard that soulmate intimacy is beyond description and that is exactly what this is, indescribable.

The buzzing seems to start at the top of your head and go all the way down to your toes, making you hum against his lips when you finally have to pull away. Can’t be making out in the dance floor. That will definitely be noticed. Marcus slowly pulls you upright, his lips tingling and his heart feeling like it is soaring through the clouds.

“I wanted to do that so badly at the State dinner,” you whisper, beaming at him and glowing in the moment. He knows that. You told him already. But you’re too lightheaded to care about repeating yourself.

“I did too.” Marcus confesses just as softly. It’s impossibly amazing to have someone that feels the same way and he absorbs it like it’s oxygen to breathe.

There’s a giggle in your throat, but it’s small and feels like a hiccup, making you grin even more. “But that was better than I imagined.”

“Same.” He looks around the dance floor, aware that you weren’t at a soulmate wedding before he leans in to whisper in your ear. “I had never thought touching my soulmate would be so exciting and soothing all at the same time.”

“No exciting touches while I’m working,” you chide, knowing it isn’t what he meant but unable to resist teasing him.

He snorts quietly and arches a brow mischievously. “And if I do?”

He is a tease, and he said as much to you with pride, so you just quirk a smile up in the corner of your mouth and stroke one thumb along the line of his neck. “Then you’re not staying on the couch this time.”

“Am I staying?” He asks softly, not wanting to presume anything and he grins at your huff.

“Only if you want to.” You have no intention of pressuring him, but if he wants to spend the night you will welcome him with open arms.

“I don’t think that’s a question in my mind.” He chuckles. “I just don’t want you to think that I only want to take you to bed.”

“If I thought that, you wouldn’t be invited.” Enough years of second guessing and wondering have made an impact on you that way, and you certainly aren’t going to entertain any kind of advances from someone who isn’t interested in you for the right reasons. Not anymore.

“That’s good.” He admires your spirit and self-assurance. They are traits that he always likes in a woman and he’s happy to find that his soulmate is aligned the same way. Reaching up, he smirks slightly as he touches an earring. “So what time do you get off work, beautiful?”

"As soon as the reception's over." Subtly turning your wrist on his shoulder, you check the time and press a kiss to his cheek when your heart flutters at the end of the song that had been playing. "Just a couple more hours, handsome. I hope you're one of those G-men who keeps a change of clothes in their car."

“I do.” He nods, butterflies swirling in his stomach like he’s untried all over again, even though his virginity is long past gone. “The other night was an odd thing because of just coming back.”

"I'll let my temporary roommate know you're coming up." That's not exactly the kind of thing you can spring on Agent Bailey, even if she is at the end of her shift. Her shift relief will need to know there's someone spending the night so they don't hear noises and burst into your room.

“If it’s not convenient, we can always plan something out.” Marcus immediately assures you. He knows that it has to be a little stifling at times with the agent there and he doesn’t want you to stress if there’s some reason he can’t stay.

"I just don't want an agent interrupting us," you assure him quickly. "That's all. I want you to stay."

Marcus grins. “Afraid of a shift change and the agent thinking you’re being attacked?” He jokes.

"Stranger things have happened." Unfortunately, the ear piece you're wearing to stay connected to your team crackles to life with the voices of servers get ready for the cake cutting. "That's my cue," you hum, tapping your earpiece with a slight frown. "Save me one more dance later, okay?"

“Absolutely.” Marcus lets go of you reluctantly, although he knows you are still working to make the night magical for his friends.

The wedding is as close to perfect as any event that you've organized in possibly your entire career. By the time the last guests are trickling out of the garden and the wait staff is bringing in the last trays of glasses to be washed, your work is fairly well done for the night. The overnight manager can oversee the rest of the cleanup, and you've already sent Sydney home to her comfy bed after freaking out with her over the fact that Marcus has agreed to stay over tonight. Joyce and Michael left straight for the airport to be off on their honeymoon after many, many hugs. Agent Bailey looks positively relaxed compared to some other events you've held at the inn, but you can tell she's ready for a cup of coffee and a crossword to wind down with before her relief arrives.

"Hey." You find Marcus on the porch when you step back outside, and your face splits on a big, beautiful smile.

“Hey.” Marcus turns to find you watching him, your jacket discarded somewhere and you look softer, a little worn. “I have to just give you a round of applause.” He hums, clapping silently. “You made this look so easy, even though there are a million balls up in the air at one time.”

"I'm exhausted," you admit without shame. After two weeks of basically working nonstop, you would feel like you're about to drop except that you have the promise of the rest of the night ahead of you. "Thank god I took the whole weekend off. We can sleep in tomorrow."

Marcus frowns, not liking that you’ve overworked yourself and he is immediately pulling you close and rubbing your back. “Why don’t we go upstairs and you let me take care of you?”

“Because that will require an entire reprogramming of my personality?” The attempt at a joke just makes him raise his eyebrows at you and deepens his frown, and you know instinctively you’re going to give in to him. You may not be good at letting other people be in charge of you ever, but the warm and fuzzy feelings you get from being the sole focus of Marcus’s attention outweighs it. “Okayyyyyy.”

At the almost petulant tone, Marcus smirks slightly. “Good.” He nods and pulls you closer. “You deserve to let someone do for you.” He whispers softly. “You’ve done so much for my friends tonight. Let me return the favor.”

There isn’t any use protesting, and you like the gentle security of his arms too much to leave them right now, so the two of you make your way to the elevator wrapped around each other as though there is nowhere else you could possibly be. “Did you have fun tonight?” Aside from Joyce and Michael — who had thanked you profusely before leaving for the night — his opinion of things is the only one you care about.

“Probably the best wedding I’ve ever been to.” Marcus isn’t just saying that. The staff milled around, wearing happy expressions that weren’t painted on, even when they were busy. The entire event flowed smoothly and the atmosphere was one of celebrated joy. A lot of that comes straight from the top, how you treat your staff and the environment you’ve created. “I’ll say it again, you are amazing.”

“You may have noticed by now that I’m not very good at taking compliments.” You up at him, though, warm cheeks and broad smile making you look bashful. “But…thank you.”

“Well, I plan on giving them to you often.” He admits, admiring your beautiful face. He’s always believed in giving compliments, but he never says something he doesn’t mean.

“Then I will try to be better.” Having only kissed him once so far, the tantalizing closeness of where he hangs his head as you step into the elevator together beckons you, but you resist if only out of manners. Agent Bailey doesn’t need to be made to feel awkward in such a small space.

He can tell that you want to kiss him, but he can also see how incredibly worn out you are. Marcus shifts slightly, moving behind you so he can let you lean against him. The small, nondescript duffel bag in his hand brushes your leg, and you smile gently at the idea of waking up beside him tomorrow morning. As tantalizing as taking him to bed is, it’s the soft, domestic dream of waking up to see his sleep-mussed face that has you weak in the knees. When the elevator stops upstairs, you pause to let Agent Bailey work and then go in when she gives you the signal.

“Are the threats bad enough she needs to check the apartment every time?” He asks softly, frowning at the idea that you would be in so much danger.

“Mom is slightly overprotective,” you explain, dropping your jacket on the coat rack by the door when you come in. “I give it another month of all-clears before she stops insisting the apartment be checked every single time.”

“She loves you.” It’s not hard to see why but he also doesn’t want to minimize its effect on you.

“Oh, I know.” Turning around again, you reach for him even though he isn’t far away. “And I love her. Which is why I’ve never fussed at her for anything reasonable she’s ever asked of me. Including letting my agent check my apartment before I go inside. If it eases her anxiety to know I’m safe, that’s fine. She’s got plenty else to deal with right now.”

“It’s probably because you live alone.” He murmurs, sliding his arms around you. “When I first moved away, my Mom called every night to make sure I locked my door. And I was not nearly as pretty as you are.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” His chin weighs on your shoulder and you cover his arms with your own, wrapping them around your own waist. “You’re much prettier than me. But you’re right that it’s about me living alone. When I lived with Syd she never worried out loud. But she also wasn’t president then.”

“Maybe we will have to get you a roommate.” Marcus isn’t pushing for anything, only teasing out loud. “And a really protective dog.”

“If you want a review of how I am to live with, Syd will tell you everything, I’m sure.” Though neither of you believes in pushing the other, it’s obvious that a fully functioning and committed relationship is on both of your minds. “And you know I’m dying to have a dog, we talked about that. I just can’t do it here. There’s nowhere near enough space.”

“There is if you build a cottage behind the inn.” Marcus suggests. “Gives you space for the family and keeps you close enough to your work to still pop in whenever you need.”

For a second you just stand stock still, shocked at the idea, before you slowly turn in his arms and look up into that sharply angled face with the gentlest eyes in the whole world. “I had never thought of that,” you admit, astonished now at your own lack of imagination.

“Maybe now you will.” He smiles, happy to have offered a suggestion that might be of use to you. “It’s a perfect compromise, and then you could turn your apartment into another suite for guests.”

“It’s a perfect compromise as long as it’s something my partner also likes the sound of.” Thinking of him as a partner — a long term one, the long-term partner of your life — sends that tingle out to all your extremities all over again and you find yourself smiling even brighter. “I guess we’ll have to think about what kind of cottage we would want, if that’s something we decide to do together.”

“Stone.” Marcus immediately says. “Designed to fit in. Perhaps an old carriage house design.”

The way he offers such unfettered support softens you, and you reach up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Have you thought about it before, or are you just brilliant with improvising ideas?”

“Haven’t thought about it before but I hate when I see a historic building and some addition that’s completely modern or doesn’t match the style.” He admits with a sheepish grin.

“Then I’ll just call you brilliant and you’ll have to live with being positively adored.” He blushes at that declaration, and you end up smiling all over again. “And it’s very Sabrina of you to think of living in a carriage house. Which makes it thematic, of course, and now we have to.”

“Now we have to, huh?” He chuckles quietly and leans in to press a kiss to your hair. “Then I guess we better start designing a carriage house worth of the First Princess.”

“I don’t care.” Even though you’re shaking your head, you’re transfixed, looking up into his eyes. It’s too soon for these things you’re feeling — too quick and too untried — but they’re so honest that they catch in your throat and bubble over. “As long as you’re there, too, I don’t care about anything else.”

It’s a loaded comment and it’s one that would have him searching your eyes to see if you are being truthful but he doesn’t have to. He feels that you are. “We will decide when the time comes.” He promises. “Where we live.”

“I’m just grateful you don’t think I’m crazy,” you admit softly. “For feeling so certain already.”

He snorts and pulls you close. “When I realized that you knew we had to be soulmates, there was another reaction that I needed space from you because of.” He admits. “Do you know what that was?”

“Not a clue.” Whatever it was, he’s here with you now, so you aren’t afraid of it. “Tell me.”

“So I didn’t beg you to run away with me and get married.” He flushes slightly and bites his lip.

“Oh god…” The breath of disbelief that leaves you is as disbelieving as it is giddy. “I would’ve said yes and we would’ve been doing text message breakups from the car on our way to the nearest soulmate chapel.”

“And we are better than that.” Marcus agrees, “so it was a good thing that I left for London.”

“Long distance so that we were forced to not be impulsive.” In a very real way, he’s right. You would both have jumped headfirst into this and being on separate continents forced you to calm down. You do smirk, though, and hold him a little closer. “It didn’t stop us from bathing together, though.”

Your smirk is tantalizingly wicked and innocent, making him return it. “I was trying very hard to be good while we were on the phone together. To not think about you naked.”

"I admit," you aren't embarrassed or shy about it, though. "I was decidedly less well behaved..."

“Oh yeah?” He arches a brow curiously. “What— were you touching yourself while we were talking?”

"After." It's not something you expected to admit tonight, but you have no intention of keeping the truth from Marcus at all. "I...wasn't confident I could keep quiet if I actually did it during one of our conversations."

“So you are vocal.” He hums softly, starting to get an idea of what might be a perfect ending to the night for you.

"Maybe a little." It's definitely something you have to control to be considerate of the other person in your apartment at all times.

“That’s good.” He’s aware that Agent Bailey has disappeared around the corner, trying to give you the illusion of privacy. “I like vocal.”

Instantly, your eyes snap up to his. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He hums, pressing a little closer to you with a weighted smile. “Why don’t we run a bath? Soaking sounds like a good idea for you, doesn’t it?”

“Thank god my tub is big enough for two people,” you huff, immediately grabbing his hand and heading straight for your bathroom.

He hadn’t actually meant for him to soak, but it’s obvious that’s what you want. Allowing you to guide him into your bathroom, he looks around the room. He hadn’t really paid attention to the tub when he had spent the night or when he was here for the game night, so it was a charming surprise to see that the tub is big enough for two.

"Are you a bubbles or salts guy?" You have a whole shelf dedicated to bath things that you've actually started working through thanks to the frequent phone calls you shared while he was away. Before that, you barely made time to touch them.

“Either one.” He shrugs slightly. “Depends on the mood, but I’m thinking bubbles tonight. What about you?”

"Sweet Surrender or Heart of the Ocean?" The two yet-untouched bottles on the shelf have abstract names but smelled amazing in the store when you bought them, so you give him the choice. Either way, the light and airy scented candles in the room will add ambiance more than anything else.

“Sweet Surrender.” He likes the sound of it and shrugs off his tuxedo jacket to drape over the counter.

“Honey, almonds, and pomegranate,” you read from the bottle as you turn to plug up the tub and start the bath. These first moments of intimacy are so delicate, and even though you have both verbally confirmed your shared marks — this will be the first time you see them on each other.

“That sounds like the perfect scent to relax in.” He doesn’t glance up at you, slowly starting to undress in case you change your mind.

“Hey.” As soft as your voice is, your hand reaches out to touch his arm. He isn’t looking at you and you just want to be sure that he doesn’t feel pressured. “If you want to wait, we can wait as long as you need.”

“No.” He laughs at the irony of you voice his own thoughts. “But I also know you are tired. Why don’t we soak without any expectations?”

“No expectations is good.” You nod, appreciating the way he already looks like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “There are a lot of different kinds of intimacy.”

“My idea was to get you into a bath, maybe make you feel good, and wrap you up in my arms to sleep.” Marcus voices softly.

“Is that what you want to do?” He’s only undone two buttons on his shirt, and you rest one hand lightly on his chest to ground yourself in him and give him your full attention. You said it earlier in the night — you are both just out of relationships. If he wants to take things between you physically slow even if they are moving at emotional light speed, you’ll honor that and make sure he feels comfortable and safe.

“The romantic in me wants to wait for your birthday tomorrow night.” He admits, huffing at himself. “For sex. Not for making you cum.”

“Honey.” Your hand goes to your mouth instantly, stifling a witheringly heartfelt sigh, and you step into him immediately with a sort of lopsided smile settling into your features that tells him exactly how sweet you find that idea. “That is…quite possibly the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. And I adore you for wanting to make it special.”

“You don’t think it’s silly?” He’s been told he tries too hard or overthinks in relationships a lot and it’s something he’s worked on.

“No.” Shaking your head just once, you run your thumb over one of the buttons of his shirt and nearly sigh again. “I think it’s romantic. And it tells me you’re a thoughtful partner.”

“What do you want?” That is equally as important in this scenario as his own wistful flights of romantic fancy.

“I want to wake up with you tomorrow.” It might sound odd or even a little creepy to anyone else, but you’re confident that Marcus will understand. It’s not possessive or obsessive, it’s domestic and romantic in its own right. “Find out what you look like sleep mussed and bathed in sunlight all tangled in my sheets. Anything else that happens is a bonus.”

“Then let me take care of you tonight?” He asks softly, leaning in and kissing your forehead. “I can wait, and I want to make your weekend special.”

It’s impossibly romantic and probably the first time in your entire life that the man you’re romantically involved with isn’t clamoring to fuck you as quickly as humanly possible. Instead of making you feel less desirable, like it might have at earlier points in your life, it makes you feel special. Cared for. Like the fact that you have his focus means more than anything else ever could. “Okay,” you murmur, nodding once before you turn to shut off the hot water filling your bathtub. “If you prefer, there’s a little stool next to the sink. “You don’t have to get in with me unless you want to.”

“I don’t mind getting into the bath with you.” The idea of pressing his body against yours is incredibly erotic and sensual. “You can lean against me.”

“Okay.” Even as simple as a word is, the acknowledgement is important. Right now it’s just as important as the mounting hum of tension between you, and His your fingers prickly with the desire to continue undressing him. How you’re dying to press your bare skin to his, even if it doesn’t come with sex just yet.

He wonders if you are disappointed, if you are wanting him to just jump you and take you to bed. He wants to, but he wants to celebrate what is between you more.

"There's only..." Your hands go to your own buttons. Undressing yourself is not pressuring him, but just offering. Offering to deepen this connection and share this part of yourself. "Only one thing I want to ask...that's all. If it's okay with you?"

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He’s willing to whatever you want to make you happy. “What do you need to ask of me?”

It seems silly, all things considered, but when you bite your lip it feels like asking permission to smile. "I just want to see the marks we share. On both of us."

Marcus chuckles and nods, finishing the buttons on his shirt and he slips it off his shoulders. “The most obvious one first, I think.”

"I hope you don't hate it." His shirt lands on the stool you had offered him, and yours follows it.

“I don’t.” He promises, smiling at you. “Your explanation makes complete sense, now that I know that it’s you.” He tells you. “A Hummingbird for my little hummingbird.”

"And you know why I was never on Mate Marks now." It was something he had pointed out at the State dinner and you had felt awfully about the way he took it. Thinking that you never wanted to be found, when in fact it's the opposite that is true. It's just that it was considered unsafe for you. Now, though? Now that you have him right in front of you? You can turn around and show him your back and let him see the hummingbird for himself.

Your bra is still on, but he doesn’t mind that, watching as you slowly turn to let him see the tattoo on your lower back. The hummingbird that has marked his own skin, the exact same one. “Does it look different on someone else?” You ask, suddenly afraid to see his reaction.

Reaching out, his fingers brush over the skin, feeling the slight rise in it where the ink has been pushed underneath. His own is flat, not raised and it’s a wonderful little contrast between your tattoo and its counterpart on his own body. “It looks beautiful.” He murmurs softly.

"If I had been older than eighteen, I might have had it put somewhere else," you admit with a wry laugh. "But I don't care as long as it helped us find each other."

“It’s discreet.” He snorts, still tracing it. “If you want it to be.”

"I tend to tuck my shirts into my pants these days." His fingers are burning hot but not in an unpleasant way. More like the tension and promise of them is scorching your skin with eagerness. "Or just wear a longer top layer. No bikinis, ya know?"

“That’s why there aren’t pictures of it out there.” He huffs slightly, amused that if you had been photographed it would have been splashed in some kind expose or something.

"It doesn't matter anymore." Before, discretion had been something that was agreed upon. You didn't want someone claiming to be your soulmate falsely and your parents considered it a safety concern. But now that you have Marcus? Any claim would be an obvious lie and easily taken care of. "You're what matters."

Marcus turns so you can see the tattoo on his skin, verifying the same design to you. “You matter too, sweetheart.”

You never thought it would be such an emotional moment, but it’s only in the last few days that you realize how silly that assumption was. Of course this is emotional. This connection goes far, far beyond any that you’ve made otherwise. It is, just like the ink marking both of your bodies, under your skin. The tears are more than you were expecting, and you wipe one away on your thumb after a pause. “Holy shit,” you laugh after a second. “It’s real…”

He lights up at the giddy excitement in your voice. The yearning has him turning around and wiping away another with his own thumb as he caresses your cheek. “It’s real, sweetheart. We’re real.”

When he turns to you fully you can see the scar from your childhood surgery on his torso, the line of healed flesh where the doctor cut into you as clear as day on his otherwise smooth skin. “I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, tracing it with your fingers. “We were so young to have to carry this and know what it means…that we were always connected…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Marcus shakes his head, frowning at your apology. “I was worried about you.” He admits softly. “If I had known you, I would have been visiting you in the hospital.”

"I told you." A thin smile brightens your face, reminding him of what you said at the State dinner. "Appendicitis sucks."

“I will take your word for it.” He chuckles quietly and his fingers brush your scar. “Were you scared when it happened?”

"Terrified." You nod slightly, eyes transfixed on his fingers touching your skin. "I was six and I had never, ever felt that kind of pain before."

“Poor thing.” Kneeling down, he leans in and presses his lips to the scar.

You swallow hard as he reaches for the button on your pants, skin singing at every little bit of contact. It’s only a second before he pulls the zipper open that you frankly try to remember what panties you put on for today, but it doesn’t matter. Every stitch of clothing will be gone soon, and you’re okay with that. Losing the last barriers between the two of you is exactly what you want for this weekend.

He continues to kiss along the length of the scar, watching you looking down at him as he slowly opens your trousers. Finding it incredibly sexy that you are already breathless.

“Just had a mini panic,” you admit, raking your fingers through his short hair. “Can’t remember if I put on presentable panties today or not.”

He can’t help but laugh at the very normal fear. “I don’t care about what kind of panties you wear.” He promises with grin. “But I did wear my good boxer briefs.” He jokes. “Keep it all contained properly.”

“Can’t have you letting it all hang out.” When you laugh along with him, it comes out like a snort. “Very undignified.”

“Very.” He joins you in the laughing, his fingers running along the edge of your panties. “No erections allowed in wedding photos.”

“Fully permitted later in the night, though.” He’s still on his knees in front of you, and despite being nervous you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra. “In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s encouraged.”

“Well, of course it is now.” He huffs playfully, hooking his fingers into the band of your panties. The last scraps of fabric fall away, leaving you naked in front of him, and you shiver slightly without knowing if it’s the chilly bathroom or nerves that are doing it. Marcus debates, seriously debates, if he should just lean forward and bury his face into the pretty, neat little patch of hair. To use his tongue on you. When you shiver, he knows he needs to get you into the bath, so he stands quickly and unbuckles his belt.

You aren’t a virgin. You never claimed to be. At one-day-under-30, you’ve had your fair share of sexual and romantic partners, and not everyone in those two categories overlapped. Still, when Marcus pushes his boxer briefs and trousers away in one go, you inhale sharply at the first glimpse of his half-hard cock. If you hadn’t promised to let him take care of you, you might be reaching forward or dropping to your own knees — but you did. You promised. And you can barely hold back a smothered groan of regret at that fact because he’s stunning.

If it weren’t for the lusty, glazed look on your face, he might have thought something was wrong. As it is, his half hard cock twitches and hardens even more as he guides you towards the tub. “Get in, sweetheart.” He urges. “I’ll get us some towels.”

“The cupboard behind you.” They’re big, fluffy, soft things that you count as an indulgence, but they won’t be anywhere near as comfortable as having him in this bath with you. Still, you step into the hot, sudsy water without him, knowing he’ll follow in a minute.

Marcus grabs the towels and sets them close before striding back over to the tub. He’s not some Greek god, but he’s in good enough shape that there’s no reason to slump or hide as he walks towards you naked.

“Fuck.” Just one word groaned softly, but your eyes stay on him with every step. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Are you stealing my lines?” He teases, flashing you a grin as you sit in the sudsy water. “Because the only gorgeous thing I see is you.”

“We can both be gorgeous to each other,” you point out, still transfixed by him.

He had never really thought of it that way and shrugs slightly. “If you say so.” He bites his lip and watches you lean forward to give him room behind you.

The water is just a tiny bit high with both of you settled into the tub, but you don’t care. It’s not in danger of flooding the floors so you’ll just revel in being warm and comfortable with your soulmate for as long as the hot water holds out. You lean back against him, making him sigh softly in your ear and his arms come around you.

“Is this okay, hummingbird?” He murmurs quietly. “Can I touch you?”

“You know you can call me Birdie.” Settling back against him, you guide his hand around you and under the water to let him start exploring. “Hummingbird is my Secret Service call sign. Don’t wanna start accidentally moaning as a Pavlovian response whenever Agent Bailey says it.”

He chuckles quietly, a warm sound in your ear as he splays his hand over your stomach. “If you want me to.” He slowly starts to stroke your skin. “Hummingbird sounds a little more intimate, I thought.”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous.” The way he laughs and the way he touches you? You’d probably agree to anything right about now.

“Is that how I get my way?” He asks teasingly. “Get in a hot bath with you and I get what I want?” His hands, both of them, slide up to fill his hands with your tits and squeezes gently, enjoying the way your nipples harden against his palm.

“Apparently.” Sighing lets your body loosen even more in his arms and you rest heavily against his torso but your back arches to press your chest into his hands. “And ya know what? I’m okay with it.”

He laughs again, squeezes and then massaging the flesh before his thumbs brush over your nipples. “That’s right?” He asks. “You enjoying this? Feeling relaxed already?” Flicking your nipples again lightly before he cups your tits again.

“Mmmmm, it’s perfect,” you hum, letting your eyes slip shut to just enjoy the sensations.

“Good.” He’s slow to explore, letting the moment expand naturally and taking his time as he listens to your soft moans. Wanting to learn what makes you hum and purr like a kitten in his hands.

“Are you going to make a Goldilocks joke if I point out what big hands you have?” You ask, humming again when his large hand spans what feels like your entire thigh.

“The better to feel you with, my dear.” He growls into your ear playfully, squeezing your thigh slightly and massaging it gently.

The giggle you let out is low and deep, but cut off sharply by a gasp when his fingers ghost over your core. He hums, more of a raspy growl as he slides his fingers through the wet curls and into your folds. Groaning at the slickness that has nothing to do with the bath you are in.

“Fuck.” One syllable, repeated as many times as you want to tonight, and you drop your head back on his shoulder with a moan. “Feels so good and you’ve barely touched me.”

“That’s it, beautiful.” He coos softly. “Just relax, I’m gonna take care of you.” The water ripples as he slowly starts to caress your folds, rubbing and stroking the velvety skin as he listens to you moan again.

Pliant is an understatement as Marcus starts to explore, gauging your reactions and keeping his other hand busy with your tits now that he’s figured out how much you love having them played with. The itch in the back of your mind that you’re neglecting him is very real, but this is what he wants tonight and what he’s ready to share with you, so you’ll just make tomorrow twice as good for both of you when you can share the sensations.

He keeps the motion of his fingers slow, sensual as they dance over your sensitive clit. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“So good—” So good that your breath is coming short, shallow pants already and only occasionally punctuated by longer and deeper ones. It’s like he can read you as easily as a book. “So fucking good.”

He hums softly, keeping the pace up and his cock is throbbing against your lower back now that he is fully hard. He ignores it and squeezes your breast again before teasing the nipple. “That’s good, baby girl.”

Your hips tilt, searching for more pressure and trying to show him where to focus his attention, but Marcus is exploring. He’s learning. And as much as you love it, it’s making you twist and pant and rub against him in ways you’re sure are not helping the hard on pressed between you.

“Ohhhh my soulmate gets eager, hmmm?” He coos, chuckling at the way you are grinding against him. “What do you need sweetheart?”

"More." You aren't above begging and he's already professed to being a tease so you just bask in it when his husky voice is right by your ear. He doesn't mind that you're eager and you don't mind that he's a tease, which means there's going to be a whole lot of fun ahead of the two of you. "Please, baby? More?"

“I’ve got you.” He knows there is a fine balance between being a tease and tormenting someone. He turns his hand, his thumb pressing against your aching clit so he can push two fingers deep inside you. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

"Oh fuck." The whine that comes out of you is something unrestrained and probably louder than you meant it to be, but it hardly matters when he's stretching you out on two thick fingers. Your hands scramble for purchase, one clutching his arm against you and the other holding on to the side of the tub as he begins to finger fuck you slowly but determinedly.

“Gotta stretch you out.” He croons in your ear, his breath washing over your skin. “Get your tight little pussy ready for me tomorrow.” He curls his fingers up and continues the slow circles on your clit.

"Knew those fingers would feel amazing inside me." And after thinking about it for about two weeks solid, you're thrilled to find out exactly how right you were.

“Been thinking about that a lot?” He asks, deciding your ear lobe needs to be nibbled on.

"So fucking much." Every time his fingers dive back inside your cunt you give another wanton moan. "Almost as much as I've been thinking about your cock."

“Now that you’ve seen it, what do you think?” He’s curious because he knows you wouldn’t lie to him, he knows enough women have enjoyed him to not be too self-conscious, but you are his soulmate. Hopefully you will be pleased with the body the universe chose for you to share.

“I think I my imagination didn’t do you justice.” If it weren’t for his fingers moving inside you, you’d be riding that cock, but you can’t find it in yourself to be disappointed when he’s so fucking good with his hands. Instead you twist around, chest having as you claim a demanding kiss.

He groans into your mouth, cock twitching against your back as your tongue slides into his mouth. You taking control of kiss is incredibly sexy to him, and he pumps his fingers into you faster.

If you were flexible enough to reach in between your bodies and wrap your hand around his hard on, you would have done it ages ago. The angle you’ve twisted into to kiss him almost makes it work, but still not quite. It leaves you whining into the kiss as your legs quake, feeling yourself move closer and closer to that peak that he has aimed you toward.

It’s not as slow as Marcus had wanted. Expecting to coax you into a languid, drawn-out orgasm that leaves you boneless, you are insistent. Not that he could deny you, the entire point is to take care of you how you need it. Kissing you back with just as much fervor as you give him as he pushes you towards that pleasurable cliff.

It probably would have been more like the slow, sensual climb he had intended if you weren’t so hungry for him. So addicted to the way he tastes after barely the smallest sample that you just want to drown in him. It’s passion, and the kind of attraction that makes you feel like you’ll go crazy if you can’t have him burrowing under your skin. In the moment your hazy, pleasure-centric mind is wrapped solely around how he helps and tastes better than perfection, and how you never want it to end.

The kiss tangles deeper, winding through to his soul and squeezing it tights. Grunting into your mouth gently as he feels like he is home.

The whine in your throat gets tighter as you near that peak, glorious tension in the pit of your stomach flooding every other sense you have as you start to cum, except the unerring surety that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Right here. With your soulmate. Home.

The way you fall apart for him is breathtaking. Marcus moans in tune to your own cries, eyes closed as your walls tighten around his fingers and pulse with a throbbing tempo of pleasure. The water sloshing around you both as you shake for him.

The words stick in your throat, and whether it’s the soulmate connection or the post-orgasm bliss, or what, they hang there as you relax backward against him in a slump. Is it really that easy? Or has it been building since we met? You aren’t sure, but it’s there. Regardless of how or why.

He feels the second you soften, body relaxing against him and his fingers slow down. Drawing out the pleasure but not forcing any kind of overstimulation. Winding down until they are still inside you as he kisses you softly before pulling back to smile at your glowing face.

“You have very good ideas.” A soft laugh tumbles out of you as you work to suppress the instinct to declare yourself to him. This isn’t the right time. Or, at least, you’re afraid that it’s too soon despite the dreams you’ve already shared with him.

“Good.” He hums softly, kissing you again. “Relaxed, sweetheart?”

“Amazingly.” You can still feel him rock hard at your back, though, and your eyes search his. “Are you sure you don’t want a hand? Or any other part of me?”

He snickers the innuendo and leans in to kiss you again. “You don’t know how badly I want you.” He murmurs softly. “But your eyes are exhausted.”

“I hate that you’re right.” Wanting him so badly that it physically hurts doesn’t make you less tired, but it does make you more determined than ever to make sure tomorrow is incredible.

He chuckles softly and kisses your forehead. "You now know how I felt a couple of days ago." He reminds you softly. "It doesn't matter how long it takes, love." He promises. "We will get there and it will be amazing."

“Tomorrow.” The tone of your voice is absolutely certainty, it the yawn immediately after does put a pin in the point. “We will get there tomorrow.”

"Tomorrow." He agrees and shifts you forward slightly as he pulls his hand away from your core. "For now, we need to get some rest so you can party tomorrow without falling asleep."

“What do you want to do tomorrow before the party?” Standing on wobbly legs in the bath takes a second, but when you wipe all the suds away and step out you’re steady enough.

"You have the day off." He hums, getting out beside you and wrapping a towel around you. "We could start off with brunch if you wanted to. Or whatever you want to do? Go to the famer's markets around here?"

“I switched my day off this week to make sure the wedding would go smoothly,” you explain. He’s large and warm and strong, and the feeling of safety doesn’t elude you. “So we have the whole weekend together if we want it.”

"I want it." He immediately tells you, frowning slightly as he towels you off carefully. Ignoring the water dripping off his own body so he can attend to you. "If you do, of course."

“Of course I do.” Grabbing the second towel off the stool, you start to dry him in turn. “Just…didn’t want to be clingy. That’s been a point against me in the past.”

"You don't have to worry about me being upset." Marcus assures you. "I have that same problem sometimes too."

“Jump in head first and get too clingy and it overwhelms them?” To find out he’s the same way is an odd sort of relief and solidarity, if you’re honest with yourself.

Marcus snorts and gives you an embarrassed wince. "I did propose in the hallway at work?" he offers. "Not some of my best romantic work, and after reflecting on it, I was feeling like the relationship was slipping away and I was desperate to save it."

“This was Teresa?” He had told you a bit about his exes — just little tidbits — during your phone calls and you hum when he nods. “No offense, honey? But it doesn’t really sound like she had her shit together in that relationship. That was not your fault.”

"No, but I held on even harder when I should have just let go." He admits, sighing softly. "Too quick to jump in, to give my heart, to plan for the future."

“You’d think I would have learned my lesson when I got cheated on.” You shake your head, drawing your towel around yourself and shrugging. “Oops.”

"I can't fucking believe someone would be dumb enough to cheat on you." He snorts, rolling his eyes at the idiocy of his sex.

“The only good part of the whole thing is that I managed to cut his cheek when I threw the ring at him,” you huff, shaking your head again as the two of you move into your bedroom together. The age-old cliche of finding your partner in bed with someone else had been your horrible reality just a few years ago. “Asshole. I hope he has a scar.”

"Me too." He huffs, "but you don't need to worry about that with me." He knows it's sounding like a complete line, but it's the truth. "I would never – I went to break up with Vanessa because just knowing you were my soulmate, I couldn't give her what she deserved."

“I…I felt like I needed confirmation,” you admit. After giving it a few seconds of thought you simply discard your towel in the laundry basket and climb into bed naked, pulling back the sheets to invite him to join you bare. “Just knowing we both had tattoos in the same place wasn’t enough. It could have been totally different designs, and then I would have been the idiot who jumped to conclusions and ruined both of our relationships for some unfounded crush. And then…at the State dinner…finding out you have my scar, too? I knew that was it. Everything I already felt for you in that moment was more than I had ever felt about anyone else.”

"I understand now." He had been hurt, deeply hurt, but he won't tell you that now. He doesn't want you upset about that, when you needed to take time for yourself to accept the possibility.

“I’m sorry if I…if I did things wrong.” Waiting for him to get in bed makes you a little self conscious but you swallow the idea that you might deserve it. “I don’t really know how to walk up to a person and tell them that the universe thinks they’re my perfect match.”

"Don’t' worry about that," Marcus slides into the bed beside and you and gathers you into his arms. Wanting to fold you against him and hold you close. "All that matters is that we know now."

“I love you.” You might have held it back before, but when you exhale this time the words come out all on their own. “I know that’s a lot, and don’t feel like you have to say it back until you’re ready. But I — I’m very grateful it’s you.”

He stares at you for a moment and then starts to laugh. Leaning in and nudging his nose against yours. "Sweetheart, I love you too." He promises softly through the chuckles. "I think I fell in love with you over board games that first night." He admits. " I just didn't let myself believe it."

Exhaling deeply, you burrow into his side and bury your face, just letting the right release of relieved laughter roll through you. Watery eyes and sniffles are nothing now. Not compared to the elated smile on your face. “You looked like a dream when you came into the inn that day. Like you’d stepped right out of my fantasies.”

"I wanted to ask you out." He confesses. "Until I learned you were seeing Sam."

“It’s all okay now.” It’s perfect now, as far as you’re concerned, and you press your lips to his with a smile curved up at the corners. “We’re where we’re supposed to be.”

"In bed, where you are fighting sleep so you can talk to me?" He teases gently, smiling back into your lips.

“Yes,” you huff at him as adorably as you can.

He laughs again, settling back into the pillows and pulling you with him, humming when you settle down onto his chest like you belong there. "Go to sleep, hummingbird." He urges quietly. "I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not going anywhere."

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

[jamie-leah]

Lifeline Pt 3

Bucky x Reader

Series

Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.

Word Count: 2,037

Warnings: Descriptions of domestic abuse, mentions of death and suicide

A/N: Sorry I missed last weekend, I had a funeral to attend but here is a slightly longer part for you. I'm keeping a tag list so let me know if you want in. Requests are also open if you would like to send one in. Enjoy!

<-Previous Part Next Part->

Masterlist of Masterlists

After that day, Bucky spends more time at your apartment. In fact, he spends more time with you in general. He comes to the diner more often and any day you both have free you spend it together. You’ve kicked his ass at all the video games you have, he’s shown you all his favourite spots in New York, including a hole in the wall book shop that you stayed at for hours.  

You were at this very book shop with Bucky when he says, “so, every month at the tower we all try to stick to this family dinner thing.”  

This piques your interest. Bucky doesn’t talk about the others very often. Almost like he doesn’t want to mix you up with his drama. Like he wants to keep you away from the danger of his work. You’ve never pushed him, even though you love the stories he tells of him and Steve back in the 40s. Or the pranks he and Sam play on each other every so often.  

You never push him to talk about things he doesn’t want to because you know you have so much you can’t talk about either.  

You nod to Bucky to show that you’re listening to him, “well, there’s a family dinner tomorrow night and my therapist thinks it would be a good idea to invite you...not that I don’t want you to be there or didn’t want to ask you myself. I want you with me all the time, but I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos of everyone or Tony Stark or Natasha or Sam. Actually, you know what? Forget I said anything, this was stupid-”  

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, “Bucky, I’d love to go with you.”  

Bucky spins around fast, dropping the book he was holding, “you would?”  

You chuckle, picking up the book and handing it back to the idiot in front of you, “they’re your family. Plus, it would be nice to have dinner at yours for a change.”  

Bucky breaks out into a grin, grabbing you in a bear hug and twirling you around. When he sets you down, he says, “look, I have to go but I’ll pick you up around 7?”  

You nod as he races out the door to get to his therapy appointment on time, laughing as he practically skips out the door like a little kid.  

Tomorrow comes around faster than you would have liked. You feel like you’ve had no time to prepare for this dinner. You’re meeting Bucky’s family; it feels so important, and you don’t want to mess anything up.  

You still haven’t heard anything from Andrew which is a miracle and if it keeps going like this you might get to build a life here. A life that you hope involves Bucky for a long time to come. But it won’t if you mess this up tonight.  

Staring into the mirror you can see the bags under your eyes from another sleepless night. The nightmares now involving Bucky and being ripped away from this life that you’re starting to love. It always wakes you up feeling breathless and hopeless because there’s a part of you that knows Andrew will come one day and you’ll just have to leave.  

Are you being cruel? To you and to Bucky? Making you both feel so deeply for each other when you know at any moment it could fall like a house of cards? And what exactly do you feel for the man? You swore to yourself that would never get involved romantically again but with Bucky do you have a choice? Can you just be friends with someone that feels like your other half?  

Just then you hear a knock at the door, distracting you from your thoughts. You rush to the door thinking it’s Bucky coming to pick you up but when you open up your smile fades.  

A delivery man is holding a bunch of red roses, thrusting them into your hand as soon as he sees you. Your blood runs cold. You stand, staring at the flowers like they may bite you at any moment.  

When you tear your gaze away from them the delivery man is nearly at the elevator already, “hey! Wait, I didn’t see a card with them?”  

He always leaves a card. This can’t be him because he always leaves a card. The delivery man shrugs, “the guy didn’t want a card.”  

You hear the elevator ding like background noise. Your whole world comes back to the roses in your hand. Andrew picks a different flower every time so there’s no way to know and the delivery man said it was a guy that ordered the flowers. He knows. Andrew knows.  

You drop the flowers like they burn you and race into the apartment. Fight or flight kicks in and you know the dance by now. Heading straight to your room at the back of the closet is your go back. Savings you’ve put away from your job, a couple of old family photos and a passport.  

You promised yourself that if New York did not work, you would try a different country altogether, hoping he would never go that far just to teach you a lesson.  

You reach the open plan kitchen just as Bucky runs through the door looking frantic. His eyes land on you but you don’t have time to stop as you throw more supplies into your go bag.  

Bucky says, “I saw the door open and the flowers on the floor, I thought...I thought-Are you leaving?” 

You turn to look at him when you sense the feeling of betrayal behind his words. Words get caught in your throat, so you don’t say anything. You were barely holding it together before Bucky got here, but now it seems almost impossible to go with him watching. Almost.  

“I know you may not like the flowers, but this is a little extreme, right?” He goes for humour but even you can tell its strained.  

And then his meaning penetrates the fog in your brain, “you? You got the flowers?”  

Bucky shrugs, “they were supposed to arrive yesterday after you said you’d come to family dinner, but I ordered them too late, so I was hoping to beat them here and give them to you myself but well...” 

He trails off and your shoulders sag. Bucky got the flowers. The flowers were from Bucky. The go bag slips from your grip, hitting the floor with a thud, drawing Bucky’s attention once again.  

“Why? Who did you think they were from?”  

You don’t answer. How can you? The answer is so much more complicated than just a name and yet at the same time it isn’t.  

A lump forms in your throat. You want to tell him. You want so much to let someone else carry this burden with you but every time you told someone your story, they either sided with the monster or ended up dead because of him. Because of you. And you would walk away before you saw anything happen to the man standing in front of you.  

Bucky shakes his head. Walking over to pick up the flowers, he lays them on the kitchen table, “I can’t do this. I can’t be here if it means that you might leave at any moment. I’ve been left behind before and I barely made it out alive. I can’t go through that again.”  

And your heart aches. It aches so much that you don’t know how you remain standing as you watch the only person that’s ever made you feel safe start to walk out the door.  

If you were less selfish, you would let Bucky walk out that door and never come back. You would leave him behind and leave New York. You would be miserable just to keep him safe. But you can’t. And you don’t.  

“The first time he hit me, it was our honeymoon.”  

Bucky stops dead. He doesn’t turn around, but you take it as your cue to keep talking, “this guy at a bar flirted with me. He gave me his best pick up line, I laughed and told him I was flattered but I was married, and the guy left me alone. Andrew, my husband, saw and challenged me on it in our hotel room. 

I laughed and told him to stop being silly and that I had seen him flirt with other women before too. It was the first and last time he hit me with an open palm. I made excuses for him. I didn’t want to admit that I cut all my friends and family off for a monster. He was all I had left. But after a few years, when he was dishonourably discharged from the Army, I spoke to his closest friend, Tommy. Tommy was a good man. I showed him the bruises and he believed me. After all these years, he was the only person to believe me.  

Tommy had sensed a change in Andrew, he became less bothered about hiding his temper when the Army chewed him up and spat him out. Tommy confronted him. A week later, Tommy went missing. Three months after that his body was found in the woods. Suicide they said.”  

Bucky finally turns to face you, his eyes swimming with anger and pain so much like your own that you have to look away. You stare at your hands instead, “after Tommy was gone, Andrew got worse. I was going to the hospital at least once a month and everyone believed all the lies. It got so bad that I once went to the police. They called Andrew and he told them that I wasn’t doing very well, and they believed him. After that incident I ended up in the hospital for six weeks. He told them I fell from the roof.”  

Bucky lets out a string of curse words that have you smiling despite the circumstances, “How did you get away?” 

“I got a job. In secret of course. I arranged it so I would only work when he did, and I worked in the next town over. I saved and saved and saved. And then one night I put sleeping pills in with his food. Once I was sure he was asleep, I took the car and left in the middle of the night. I ditched it the next morning and walked to a bus station.”  

“But he still finds you?” Bucky asks.  

You nod, “I haven’t been able to stay in a place longer than two months before he sends flowers and a card to wherever I’m staying at the time. It’s almost like he’s enjoying playing cat and mouse. He’s letting the game go on because I know the moment he catches me this time, I’ll be dead.”  

Bucky takes a step towards you, “no. I’m not going to let that happen.”  

“Tommy said the same thing.”  

“Yeah, well, Tommy wasn’t a super soldier.”  

“But he was a soldier.”  

Bucky shakes his head, “it's been longer than two months. Maybe he’s given up. Found someone else or got what’s coming to him from someone else.”  

“Maybe”, you whisper.  

Bucky closes the distance between you, pulling you into the warmth of his body, holding you like it's a miracle you’re still standing, “you can’t keep running. I won’t let you. Why should you have to run because that waste of oxygen can’t keep his hands to himself?”  

You don’t have an answer, so you just cling to him tighter. Bucky pulls back to look down at you, “promise me, you’ll come to me first. Come to me before you run.”  

You shake your head, “that’s just your way of asking me to stay.”  

“So, what if it is? I deal with bad people and monsters all the time. Let me help you with yours? Come to me first, please?”  

And despite your better judgement, despite all the promises you made to yourself, you tell Bucky yes. You tell him that you’ll stay. You just hope you’re not sealing both of your fates because of it.  

Tags: @ordelixx @cjand10 @identity2212 @sukaibg

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 15 - Mirror Sex

Some more Obey Me to balance out the military men! Enjoy!~

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Asmodeus asking you to try on clothes he’d picked out for you after a heavy day of retail therapy was absolutely nothing new. It actually became a bit of a bonding experience for the two of you. “You’ve got to add more color to your wardrobe Y/N!” He’d cheer, absolutely giddy when you tried on something outside of your normal attire.

So when he texted you to swing by his room for a bit of a fashion show, you weren’t exactly surprised. What did surprise you however, was the choice of clothes sitting against his bed sheets. “Uh Asmo?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “This is uh…an interesting choice for a fashion show.”

“Oh don’t be modest,” the demon purrs. It was getting harder and harder to tell by the day when Asmodeus was trying to charm you and when he wasn’t. “You’d look stunning in it darling! Just try it on, please? For me?” You look over and see those pretty sunset eyes looking at you so expectantly and sigh heavily. 

“Fine, fine,” you groan. Slowly but surely you undo your uniform until you’re completely undressed. You can see Asmodeus lick his lips, but that’s also nothing new, not to you at least. You blush regardless, quickly starting to pull the ensemble on. It’s a lovely lace bodice with matching garter and sheer underwear. “Well? How does it look?”

“Hmm,” the avatar of lust muses softly, looking you over. In the dim light of his room, you manage to miss the darkening of his eyes and how his pupils dilate like a beat eyeing it’s prey. “Come stand in front of my mirror, let me see better.” 

A little embarrassed, you do as he asks. Asmo’s floor length mirror doesn’t miss a thing on your body. How the fabric hugs all of your curves, how the sheer fabric does little to actually cover your body where it lays. It actually feels kind of nice against your skin, even the most intimate parts, but you push that thought down quickly.

The demon snakes his arms around your torso with a thoughtful hum, his head resting on your shoulder. He makes eye contact with you in your reflection, a knowing smile on his lips. “You look absolutely divine in that you know?” He tells you, voice practically dripping with desire.  “Almost as good as myself.

You’re so caught up in his honeyed words, you don’t even notice his hands sliding down your legs. You see how Asmo relishes your gasp as perfectly manicured fingers caress your sex beneath the sheer fabric. You immediately bite your lip; between the touches and the energy radiating off the demon behind you, it’s hard not to make noises from the pleasure.

“Now now darling, don’t hid those pretty noises from me,” he coos. “You know you sound just as pretty as you look.” His warm tongue licks behind the shell of your ear before nipping at your earlobe. 

“A-Asmo…!” you whine, hips bucking forward. You knew this little song and dance all too well by now. Foreplay was nice, but the fallen angel was sooner to work you up to your peak and keep you there for as long as he saw fit. 

Lithe fingers worked your sex in a slow but steady pace. Sinful words dripped from perfect pink lips, every so often leaving a sweet kiss or a nip against your neck and shoulder. Asmo’s free hand slid up underneath the light fabric of the bodice to thumb over your nipple. He giggles sweetly at your reaction, your head falling back against his shoulder.

“My my, how easily you fall apart for me sweetheart,” he teases. The hand on your nipple leaves, causing you to groan at the lack of attention. He comes to lightly hold your jaw, adjusting it so you can see yourself in his mirror. “See? See how lovely you look?”

Your eyes were glazed over in arousal, brow knitted together as your body craved more and more. Your knees were wobbling, trying to hold yourself up as pleasure coursed through your veins. You distantly wondered how much of this was actually feeling good and how much as due to Asmodeus’ influence as the avatar of lust. That thought was immediately wiped away as that telltale coil in the pit of your stomach tightened to it’s breaking point.

“Asmo…!” You moaned, trying to tear your eyes away from your reflection. “So close, so c-close..!” Your hips were bucking up erratically into the demon’s hand.

Asmo kisses your cheek sweetly. “Go ahead sweetie,” he tells you, voice low in your ear. The hand holding your jaw goes back to toying with your chest. “Let me feel that raw energy from you~”

You’re not in any position to deny him. Your knees buckle as pleasure overtakes you, a long moan that mixes with a cry leaving your throat. The narcissistic fourth born supports you easily, letting your weight rest against him. You can hear him chuckle softly behind your panting.

“Looks like we’ll have to have fashion shows in the mirror more often hmm?~”

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was having one of his favorite kinds of days. The kind where he got Steve all to himself, just to do jack shit together. They weren’t even really talking. Eddie was reading a book with Steve dozing off in his lap, Eddie’s chest his pillow as he came in and out of consciousness. 

Eddie fucking loved it. He was going to savor all of the quiet moments they had while he could, before work came calling back to him. The idea of going back to the studio and tours, award shows and after parties, interview after interview, was starting to make Eddie feel a little sick. Sick enough to sincerely consider the idea of retirement. 

Not that he would, or at least not yet. He loved music, he loved working with his friends, and just because the fame came with some downsides didn’t mean Eddie hated what he did. Even if the fantasy of leaving it all behind was starting to look more and more appealing. 

Besides, he wasn’t trying to give Steve a heart attack here.

His therapist had mentioned how much he needed to slow down on the major life decisions, that making grand and sweeping choices about his life for what he thought Steve would want was never a good idea. It would lead to resentment, unresolved feelings, blah, blah, blah. Eddie didn’t really believe it. He was pretty damn sure he could retire to a mountain cabin in the woods and be completely fine, as long as he had Steve with him.

But he was in therapy for a reason, and one of those reasons was to keep Steve. So maybe listening to her wasn’t such a bad call. 

He just wasn’t sure how he was going to survive long-distance when the time came. Not because he couldn’t handle himself or because he didn’t trust Steve. But his self-control was in the gutter. He was going to visit so often. Too often probably. And he’d definitely call too much. The amplification of his own clinginess would be impossible to ignore, and Eddie wasn’t looking forward to it. It was a lot easier to play it cool when his boyfriend lived fifteen minutes away. 

Then again, if his own insanity wasn’t enough to scare Steve off, his neediness probably wasn’t going to do it either. Hell, even the fame hadn’t gotten to him yet and that had gotten way worse since everything came out. 

Things had calmed down since that horrible video, but the lie of where Eddie was had been blown up. It was getting harder and harder not to be recognized, even with his incognito getup. The number of times Eddie has caught someone taking an unsolicited photo or video of the two of them behind his back were uncomfortably high. It didn’t help how Eddie had been spoiled with touching Steve however he wanted for months, never worrying about the consequences. Now, there were freaking TikTok compilations zoomed in on him touching Steve’s ass in public, which was just fucking great. As much as Eddie appreciated his fans, he loathed the obsession with his love life. Though… he could admit that him being in a relationship was pretty out of the ordinary. 

But even if he could excuse the interest, he couldn’t excuse people showing up to his apartment. It had only happened a few times, but the fact that he was traceable to that extent was more than enough to make him move to a new, harder to access building. Especially when one instance involved Steve at his place, alone. 

He fucking hated moving because people couldn’t understand boundaries, but Steve’s safety mattered more than his convenience. He was probably being paranoid, but he never wanted him to go through something like that again. Even if he handled it like a champ. They were lucky it had been a nice, though admittedly unwell, guy who went on his merry way. Eddie wasn’t going to risk any kind of alternative. 

Besides, it wasn’t all bad. Steve having nearly no presence on social media definitely helped things. No one really knew who he was. They just knew that Eddie was in a semi-dramatic relationship from the crying video and all the ass grabbing. Without the context it was pretty hard to track down what was actually happening. At least Steve wasn’t getting harassed because of him. Or at least not yet. Eddie wasn’t sure how long that would last when they moved in together or when they got married but… that was on the list of big life decisions he wasn't supposed to be thinking of right now. 

“You know,” Steve mumbled into his collarbone, pulling Eddie right out of his overcommitted thoughts, “We’ve been together for a while now.”

“Seven months and 21 days,” Eddie confirmed, as he turned back a page in his book. He had been too lost in his own head to retain shit and Steve cutely smiling up at him wasn’t improving his concentration.

“Do you remember our second date?” Steve asked.

Eddie nearly rolled his eyes. Of course he remembered, “Stevie, I remember our 23rd. Remember that? We found Twister and I had the most painful erection to ever-”

“Stop talking,” Steve said fondly, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Go back to the second. Do you remember what you said that night?”

“I think I said a lot of things,” Eddie grinned before setting his book to the side, “I remember you making fun of what is now one of your favorite foods. And how cute you were trying to cook-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m adorable,” Steve finished for him with a laugh, “But what else?”

Eddie raised a brow at him, “How about you just tell me if you’re so impatient?”

Steve was still smiling at him but it had a nervous edge to it. One that Eddie didn’t understand until he opened his mouth, “Whatever happened to tying boys up?”

From the newest chapter of this fic(which is done with one bonus chapter coming!)

[little-one-eyed-monsters]

I thought the failed transplant would cap off Day's character arc-- a final plot point he had to work on to be the best verion of himself, as the protagonist of a story is wont to have.

I didn't expect it would be part of Mhok's character arc instead. And I'm actually very satisfied with how the screenplay framed it.

I saw someone post on the tag a few weeks back that they wished Mhok would start to unpack his own emotional baggage soon-- separate from Day and his (admittedly) difficult journey. Considering that Mhok also suffered heavy trauma (and is also in need of therapy-- where did all the therapists in bls go? For a hot minute every show was mentioning it, and now nothing), it would be wise for a well-thought out narrative to flesh out Mhok's backstory. I appreciate the character consistency for both protagonists when Day's permanent loss of vision became more difficult for Mhok to process than for Day himself, as the latter losing all hope would unravel all the progress Day worked through since episode 1 (and wouldn't make much sense from a chronological perspective). The only remaining character who wasn't able to process loss in this narrative was Mhok (Night and Porjai were given time to process their losses. Day's parents had a minute to do so, too. Heck, even August). Mhok has been there for other people's journeys but never for his own, and I understand why he needs to do this alone, too.

Day was holding him back. Day became a safety net for Mhok-- a replacement for the family he lost, a focus for all the love and attention Mhok couldn't give to anyone else, and a chance to redeem Mhok's character in a way that is acceptable for Mhok himself. But Day is none of those things, and it's unfair for Day (and for Mhok too) to make Day a soulless, passionless foil that only waits for Mhok to come home and give him attention so that his partner can feel good about himself (the scene where Day waits for Mhok to come home each night while watching tv in the room all day actually broke my heart a little. It too-closely mirrored the scenes where Day was back in his own house under the care of his neurotic mother-- safe, seemingly content, but purposeless altogether. Day is such a strongly driven character, and each episode I keep hoping that Day could pour out all his passion for something other than his boyfriend).

So in a way, Mhok was holding Day back, too. The codependency became unhealthy not because of mistrust or miscommunication, but because both characters simply had no room to process their trauma without relying on each other.

There are some burdens that only we can carry, and we can't load off on other people. Mhok like Day's mother, has to accept that he can't control the fates and choices of other people, only his own.

So no matter how much I absolutely HATE the overused breakup trope in bls, I think in this instance, it is warranted.

This got long but I had to reassure myself that this was the right direction for the series.

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 12 thoughts:

Brian needs to watch the Barbie movie holy shit! (I understand the story takes place in 2011 and the movie doesn't exist there)

Just like, fuck get off Taylor's back. She is playing it too safe but also being too aggressive. Moving too fast but also not being aggressive enough! AHHHHHHHH!

Seriously, nearly every time Brian showed up in this arc I was yelling at him. Dude. Just back off.

Skitter fucking just, killing thousands of rats in a few minutes is absolutely terrifying. God I love her.

Hookwolf is a dick. I can't believe everyone else went along with him and gave the Travelers and the Undersiders shitty choices like that. I mean that's not true, I can believe it I'm just mad.

I legit forgot Imp existed until Tattletale mentioned leaving her at the meeting as a spy. I love how the way her power works combined with the writing style means she just disappears for the readers as well.

Loved seeing more of the Travelers and more Noelle. Excited to learn more about her (I don't have great feelings about her long term situation though).

Jack is such a fucking POSER oh my god!

He just. He thinks he's so cool. But he's not. Fucking "this is not an exit" reference and shit.

He is Tobey Maguire Spider-Man from Spider-Man 3. Just thinks he is the coolest shit. Everyone just has to accept it cause he got fancy knife powers.

Tattletale just fucking full confidence fucking with the Nine while standing right in front of them. She clearly knew it was high risk but she took it and she got results, spoiling Jacks plan with Cheri and shit.

That said, AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MY BABY SOMEBODY HELP MY BABY! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! (Ok she's not like, my baby, that's Taylor. But she's still my baby.)

LOOK AT MY FUCKING DAUGHTER! FUCKING LOOK AT HER! HOW MANY PEOPLE DID SHE SAVE FROM SHATTERBIRD? HUNDREDS? THOUSANDS? SHE IS AMAZING!

She fucking needs therapy though. Saves more people than anyone else could have and is mad because she didn't do enough. God damn Taylor love yourself!

Danny is fine. Besides, he had warning so any injures are basically his fault. Git gud Danny. (Ok look that's a little unfair, but he messed up pretty bad with raising my daughter so I'm allowed to be a little unfair to him I think.)

And look at my daughter again! She goes and organizes people to help the wounded. Takes charge. Gets a cool butch lady that might never show up again to help. I hope she does show up again though.

AND THEN FUCKING MANNEQUIN! AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

After he showed up I said "I don't know how the fuck she's gonna do it, but my daughter is gonna kick your ass". And then like a few paragraphs later I read "I have no idea how the fuck I’m going to do it but I’m going to make you regret that." This made me both happy - fun to say something and have Taylor say almost the same thing - and worried - cause when I said I didn't know how she was going to do it I kinda hoped she had a plan.

But then she fucking does it! She kicks his ass. She steals his arm. SHE RIPS HIS HEAD OFF! GOD DAMN! THAT'S MY FUCKING KID!

I do think she should hire the buff burly guy who helped her rip Mannequin's head off. He clearly has motivation and would be loyal. And maybe I want to see him more. For reasons.

But anyway she fucking wrecks Mannequin, makes him look like he lost a fight with a paint store. Just fucking clowned on him. She is so good.

Then the next day Brian comes in and fully focuses on how stupid it was to fight Mannequin, not really praising that she won or asking if she needs medical help. God damn bud!

But I loved how a fuck ton of people were like "Oh shit she beat Mannequin! I want to work for her." She's going to be so fucking famous soon.

Interlude 1 - Jack is a poser again. Sucks to be the Merchants, can't say I'll miss them. Jack trying to sound all clever with his carrot and sticks thing, but most of what he lists for the other Nine is really obvious. And he misses some stuff as well. Poser. I could lead the Nine better than him (not that I would lead the Nine, just that if I did I would be better than Jack).

Interlude 2 - God damn this is a doozy. Shit ton of Cauldron lore. Battery backstory. Assault backstory. I made a "now kith" joke when they fought for the very first time cause I didn't realize who they were yet. It was supposed to be a joke. I did not want them to end up together. They should not be together. Legend should not have allowed Assault to be on Battery's team. He was a bit of a dick for that. So much Cauldron lore though. I can't put it all here.

[rogersideup]

The Senses of Steve

Sight

Series masterlist

Next: Touch

Word count: 7,933

Summary: Steve could finally see you for who you actually are, rather than who he thought you might've been.

Warning: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

The first Avenger you ever met was Tony Stark, and you would never forget that moment. Your whole life led up to that very moment, that very presentation- a job interview of sorts.

Both your parents were active duty in the military since before you were even a tiny twinkle in their eye. They were teenage sweethearts. Met in high school, enlisted together, made the long distance work until they eventually we're given the same orders and managed to settle down together. They married at the ripe age of twenty one years old, had you when they we're only twenty two.

From what you could remember, having young parents was always something you viewed through rose colored glasses. You'd show up to elementary school so proud to tell everyone around you that your mom and dad were practically superheroes, sacrificing themselves on the daily to protect and serve their country.

They were amazing parents. They never pushed you into joining the military as a career for yourself, they even encouraged you to explore different options all your life. They embraced who you truly were rather than what anyone would've wanted you to be. Your love for history and the late Captain America combined with the nature of your parents made you absolutely certain that you wanted to be just like them- your three favorite superheroes.

You had a spunky creative side, proficient in English and literature with a deep love for any creative outlet you could get your hands on. Both of them loved watching how well you could adjust to a new environment and new schools every time the family was uprooted and placed onto a new base in a new state, they called you their little chameleon.

However, everything good about your childhood changed when your father passed away from a work related injury when you were 12 years old. After that, your mother was too busy at work and too stuck in her own grief to take care of you on her own, so you became self sufficient.

You were far too young to know that the responsibility of taking care of yourself and your mother shouldn't have been your weight to bare, but you did it anyways and it affected your whole life. With no one to support you, your grades slipped and you scraped through life by the skin on your teeth.

By the time you turned 18, you joined the Air Force as the only way out. It was the only choice you could see for yourself. You always knew you'd end up in the military, as a young and naïve kid you thought it could be a way to honor you dad and make him proud, and as a less young and certainly not naïve adult it was a way to spite your mother.

Your mother who couldn't even love you, your mother who couldn't even care for you or herself would have no other option than to be stuck in the same misery she trapped you in for six whole fundamental years of your life.

The Air Force ended up being good for you. For the first time in your adult life you found yourself with the very structure and support you always lacked. With time, therapy, and a whole lot of self discovery, you blossomed into what everyone loved to call you now, a diamond.

Formed under extreme amounts of pressure, you went from carbon to precious stone.

You worked your ass off every single day to prove to yourself that the years lost in your youth by playing adult didn't have to be for nothing. You so badly wanted to be better than anything that ever held you back, you used that to tightly wind yourself up and fling yourself forward like a slingshot.

And now here you are. This is where you landed.

Twenty three years old, one year older than age your father was when he welcomed you into this world, pacing back and forth in front of a heavy wooden door in the Avengers compound somewhere upstate, about to convince the greatest mind of your generation why silly little you are good enough to be his equal.

There was a very exclusive opportunity to become an Avenger. You knew you were qualified, you had been in mixed martial arts since you could take your first steps, climbed up military ranks faster than anyone has ever seen, trained with shield for three years and eventually became too skilled for them so you got bored.

However, in this moment you didn't feel like a Chameleon. If felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb in this high scale building. The unsettling feeling that stung your chest and left your mouth permanently dry no matter how much water you anxiously sipped from your water bottle made you hyper aware that you probably didn't belong here.

Knowing you were in a building full of Avengers, and any of them could pop out at any given moment made your heart feel like it was racing out of your own skin, yet somehow you could feel your pulse very slowly thumping at your fingertips.

You tried your absolute hardest to keep your nerves at bay but it didn't help that out of the ten candidates, you were the first to arrive and check in, the only woman that was presented with the opportunity to apply and who actually applied, yet the very last to be called in for a chance to make a good impression.

The door swung open and the sound of dress shoes clicking on the polished marble floors instantly had your stomach in knots.

"Ma'am" The intern with a sweet looking face caught your attention. It was almost like she could see past your brick wall of contained anxiety as she offered you a kind smile. "Mr. Stark is ready for you now."

"Thank you" You grinned back, collecting your resume and portfolio before walking past her and into the room with Tony Stark himself.

"First in, last out?" He questioned before you even fully entered the room, his eyes not leaving the holographic screen that showed your file levitating off the center of his desk. You could see if all right in front of you. Your photo and your life's works ready for harsh judgement.

"That's me." You nod in confirmation with a grin. "So nice to meet you, Mister Stark. It's an honor to even be considered."

"Tony, please, we can drop the professionalism. I always found it boring anyways. If we're going to work together we gotta get along beyond business causal. So... what's your favorite ice cream flavor?"

Although you were taken back, you were pleasantly surprised. Hesitantly sitting across from him at the desk, you place down your file and cross you legs. "Alright, Tony. I guess that makes sense. My favorite ice cream flavor is dark chocolate caramel. I'm assuming yours is Stark Raving Hazelnuts?"

"I'm a little offended that yours isn't, but I legally can't discriminate against you for that." He leaned back in his desk chair. "Dark chocolate caramel, simple yet somehow also complex." He pondered.

"Have you had a day full of chocolate chip cookie doughs?" You questioned. "Mint chocolate chips?"

"If I told you how many of the ten said vanilla you wouldn't believe me" He shrugged.

"Does vanilla have no place on the team?"

"This issue is that we already have a vanilla on the team. Almost 100 years old and the man hasn't sprouted a single gray hair yet so I think we have vanilla covered for a little while longer." He metaphorically explained. His words seeped into your skin and eased your nerves knowing that even if this went wrong, at least you weren't vanilla. "Have any pets? Hobbies?"

"Unfortunately no pets but I can bake a mean cupcake"

"What flavor?"

"Would you hate me if I said vanilla?" You joked.

"I would hate you more if you said chocolate. I've never met a chocolate cupcake I enjoyed. Seems like you just keep getting these answers right."

A small ping of confidence made a small grin tug at the corners of your lips. "You're giving me too much credit here, you've only asked two questions."

"You're right. Let's go rapid fire, answer with no explanation."

"Shoot it" You readjusted in your seat for maximum comfort.

"Do you cry over romcoms?"

"Every Friday night" you nodded.

"Give me one word to describe your time at shield"

"Uncontested" Big word, good job.

"Can you name all the Avengers?"

"Most of you, but aren't there like twenty-something of you now? I think I start getting confused around the little ant guy"

"That's okay, I do too. Favorite kind've food?"

"Any and all Asian food, and also pizza"

"What would you do if someone killed you?"

"Probably die" you raised an eyebrow.

"Cool. Welcome to the team" He said casually while pressing a button on the desk that made the hologram disappear.

"What? That's it? Don't you need to make sure I can physically keep up? Know more about my career? We didn't even talk about my ti-"

"It's fine, I already know all that. Besides, we need dark chocolate caramel on the team anyways.... trying to collect all thirty-one flavors." He stood up. "You want in?"

"I mean- yes of course I'm just so confused" You giggled in disbelief.

"You had letters of recommendation from government officials, high ranking officers, congressmen; I've seen videos of you in action. I already knew it was you before the interviews I'm just legally obligated to do them." He explained while walking through the door.

You quickly gathered your things and stood up to follow him. "What if I said my favorite ice cream flavor was rocky road?"

"I probably would've changed my mind. I only like to be surrounded by those with exquisite taste"

"Thank you so much, Tony. Really, this means the world to me."

"Save those happy tears for later, I gotta run. We'll get your room ready for you to move in on Monday. Maybe meet the team today? I dunno walk around for a bit and see who you can find. I'll have someone get in contact for the less fun stuff. Have fun, there's snacks on every floor"

Tony raced ahead and was immediately lost through a set of more heavy wooden doors. It was only when you were alone in the corridors when you allowed yourself to stop and take a deep breath, maybe even crack a quick smile and mentally celebrate before continuing to walk through the compound again.

Although this has been your dream since being a little kid, you couldn't help but to feel consumed by grief. If your dad was still alive, you'd call him before even taking another step forward. He would tell you that he was proud of his little chameleon for always making it work, he'd reinforce the superhero sentiment, encourage you to save as many lives as you can.

Your mom was alive but she might as well have been dead to you at that point. She wouldn't care. It would fuel her resentment towards you, as you got to thrive while you left your poor Mother all alone.

As you walked through yet another doorway, your thoughts were immediately hauled by a body slamming into yours.

Your files dropped all over the floor, each individual paper flew out and scattered the surrounding area. You idiot! Too deep in your own thoughts to watch where you were going. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorr-"

A group of men, all in uniform, none of them stopping.

That's when you realized.

You didn't run into them, they ran into you. They didn't care. They all laughed and continued conversation while stepping all over the portfolio and resume you spent days on. It was like you were invisible and no one even saw you standing there.

You didn't allow yourself time to think about it too hard before dropping to your knees to pick up your haphazard paper tornado, because if you thought any harder about it each of those men would get a knee to the nuts.

You ignored the sound of a door opening and closing again, the heavy footsteps toward you meant nothing as long as you didn't look up.

"Hey, I saw that happening from my office and I'm so sorry, I'm going to talk to them about it tomorrow." The voice frantically apologized before squatting down to help pick up the papers.

"It's alright, not that big of a deal" You played it cool, trying to remain composed despite the universes' attempt to keep you humble.

"It kind've is that big of a deal." He denied, scooping up papers in his big hands. "Even I know it's time to move past the 40s" he grumbled under his breath.

That statement made you freeze in place. Now, you already knew who was in front of you, but when you finally looked up to confirm your suspicions, the previous grief hit you even harder than before.

Captain America, your childhood hero right in front of you.

Obviously, you knew this was coming very soon, but not this soon. Not when you were struggling to keep your emotions at bay while you're whole career typed out was scattered across the floor.

Little did you know that as an adult, out of the three heroes you had in life, Steve Rogers would be the only one present during such a monumental achievement.

Once again, you couldn't call your dad to tell him that he would never believe what just happened.

Honestly, you almost couldn't believe it either. Because now that unsettled energy, stinging in your chest, and your pulse thumping at your fingertips was coming back, you could only hope he wouldn't notice.

"I-" you started speaking back to him to break the awkward silence before you even realized you didn't know what to say. "It's not that...Yeah. Thank you."

You tapped the stack of papers in your hands against the floor to get all the edges lined up before he handed you the papers in his hands.

"Air Force, huh?" He referred to the bold writing on the top page that was previously in his hands.

"Five years" You politely nodded. "Moved onto shield, now I'm here."

"Here as in...?" He raised an eyebrow and stood up to his full height as you finished shoving stacks back into files.

"Oh! Right... sorry." You stood up and shoved the files between your chest and left arm, extending your right hand to shake his. "I'm YN, I was actually just hired onto the team about three minutes ago."

"And this was your welcome?!" His eyes practically bulged out of his head. "Let me guess, Tony ran off saying he was busy after giving you little to no instruction on what's next"

"Bingo" You nodded, trying to remain polite while also hoping this interaction would end soon so you could cry alone in the peace of your own car.

"Sorry about that." He shook his head in obvious disapproval. "Steve by the way. I promise the compound isn't usually this chaotic or rude."

"Leave it to me to attract the chaos" You grinned, overly self conscious in his presence.

"Well, once everyone knows you're an avenger they'll start clearing the halls for you."

"Oh is that what it takes to get some respect around here?" You playfully pushed while silently praying the tears pooling in your lower lash line weren't visible.

"Unfortunately a lot of the people here have egos beyond their means, but again, I'll take care of those guys and bring them down to very humble roots" His smile that was stretching from ear to ear dropped to a reassuring and polite grin when he noticed the pending emotion in your eyes.

Steve almost felt nervous around you. His palms were sweaty and his heart was racing- it was only when he got a good look at your watery eyes did he notice the extent of how strikingly beautiful you were.

"Are you alright?" He questioned, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah" you uncomfortably chuckle before carefully rubbing your eyes while trying not to ruin your makeup. "Sorry. It just took a lot to get here and it's a lot to take in, then the papers, and... yeah... this is the worst first impression ever."

That was only half of it. You couldn't look him in the eye and tell a complete stranger that you were trying not to cry because you had no one you could tell the good news to, no one to tell you that they were proud. No one that counted, that is.

Another odd realization, he meant a lot to you, and you were just his weird new coworker.

"I get it" He empathized sweetly. "Well if it makes you feel any better I certainly didn't get a bad impression"

"Thank you" you recollected yourself with a deep breath.

"Well since Tony didn't give you much to work with, let me just..." he pat all 4 pockets of his jeans before realizing what he was looking for wasn't there. "Hold on, stay right there"

He fast walked down the hall and into the door he just came out of, before popping back out not even a full 10 seconds later.

"Here's all my contact information" He handed you a small card, his phone number and email was printed in a fancy font onto some beautiful, high quality paper. "Call me or text me whenever you want. Especially if you have any questions or anything"

"Thank you so much" Your heart beamed. Steve Rogers phone number? You didn't deserve it. "Here, take mine too!" You opened up a file and ripped your contact information out of the top corner of your resume since you obviously didn't even need it anymore. "Not quite as fancy as yours"

"Hey, it gets the job done" He shrugged. "I'd offer to show you around but I understand you probably need some time to process. Want to stop by sometime this week? I can introduce you to whoever's around and let you get a hold on the ropes before Tony throws you into the lions den."

"That sounds amazing" You took him up on his offer.

"Great, I'll text you later." He flashed a goofy lopsided smile. "Or you can text me. Doesn't really matter."

"It was an honor to meet you, Steve." His first name felt informal and undermining on your tongue, but you knew a formal title probably wasn't in your best interest as you tried to convince yourself that you were an equal to any of the Avengers.

"The honor was all mine"

You raced back to your car in a hurry and started calculating all the ways you celebrate your successfully day regardless of the circumstances. Maybe you'll stop for coffee before packing your things into boxes, maybe take out and a bottle of wine for dinner?

A huge wave of relief washed over you now that you no longer had to hide your emotions, but the tears never fell until three minutes into your Google search for coffee shops in the area when you were disrupted and thrown in an emotional loop by one silly text from an unknown number.

'Hey, this is Steve! I forgot to say congratulations! Always happy to have another person on the team :)'

That was exactly when you lost it. A sob escaped your lips and tears fell down your cheeks as you surrendered all emotional control. The elixir of excitement, pride, grief and resentment was all too much.

After an hour allowance, you snapped yourself out of your feelings with an iced coffee in hand while packing your one bedroom apartment away into cardboard boxes.

Somehow, someway, before you even got home, Tony had paid out the rest of your lease and the fee to break the year long contract.

It felt like you were moved into the compound in a blink of an eye. Your room was sandwiched between Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff, and right across the hall from Sam Wilson which you felt unworthy of by all means.

The first few days were interesting to say the least. It was the first time in your whole life you struggled to integrate yourself into an established environment. The hours and hours of paperwork, physically strenuous agility, strength and stamina tests were isolating. Not to mention the 3 days of medical examinations to make sure you were in tip-top shape. It had felt like every inch of your body had been poked and prodded.

You couldn't really join in on team dinners or fun activities during the day, there was no time to stop and talk to anyone, and by the time you got back to your room at night, you were too exhausted to even commit to a conversation with anyone about anything.

Besides, these people had bonded for years under circumstances you couldn't even imagine yet. You could barely work your way into conversation when you had a chance, so you sat and listened, desperate to learn the dynamic.

You didn't want to come on too strong, but you also didn't want to come off too small. It was a difficult balance, and your brain decided to shut down at any opportunity you had to assert yourself.

As much as you hated to admit it, you could barely even look Steve in the eye. You couldn't get yourself to work past the the grief over such a sacred part of your childhood. That very same part where he didn't even register in your head as a real person, when your dad was still around to pick you up from school everyday, and your mom still loved you without resentment.

As you sat in the phlebotomy lab in the compound with needles and IV's in your arms, taking tubes and tubes of blood for testing, you closed your eyes and let your head hit the wall behind you.

All of this change in your life felt confusing, and your lack of ability to blend in made you feel like you weren't supposed to be here. Like you had made a mistake. Maybe it was the universe telling you to get out while you still could, step down, join the military again. The air force would always welcome you back with open arms.

"You doing okay?" The sweet nurse asked while capping off one vial of blood to fill the next. "Feeling dizzy?"

"I'm okay" You smiled politely. "Not dizzy"

There was a small knock on the doorframe, you looked up to see Steve leaning against it. "Are you sure? You look like miserable"

"I think that's just my face" You jokingly shrugged, trying to play it cool.

"Try to stay still" the nurse reminded you.

"Sorry" you whispered.

"Is it okay if I sit and talk with you?" Steve asked before he even dared to step foot in a room you were receiving medical attention in.

"Depends, am I getting fired already?" You asked only half joking this time as you heart rate increased. "If not you can definitely sit"

"It's pretty customary we take agents blood before we fire them, you know, just in case" his smile was cautious as he slowly entered the room and sat in a chair across from you.

"Am I trapped here forever now that you have my DNA?" Again, a half joke.

"Of course you are. I'm going to make a clone of you, maybe start an army."

"God, that's my worst nightmare" You politely chuckled.

"What? Clones?" He questioned with a curious head tilt and goofy smile.

"No, a bunch of me running around" You corrected, earning a laugh from the soldier. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well-" He started and got more comfortable in his seat. "I know these first few days can make you feel like a lab rat so I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you're doing and feeling okay."

In that moment, you realized there was nowhere to go. With your arms being the subject to experiment you couldn't run, you couldn't avoid, and you certainly couldn't ask him to leave. You almost wish your life long hero turned out to be an asshole because processing that he was rude would be easier than having to constantly run from the feelings in your own head.

"I'm okay" You reassured again.

"Then why do you look miserable?" He challenged.

"I told you it's just my face" You playfully reminded him.

"Maybe one of your clones will tell me the truth" He joked. "Nothing about this is easy. I struggled when I got here, and you were practically crying when you were hired on."

"You're really going to call me out like that? That's how this is?" Your eyebrows raised.

"That's how it is" he grinned. "Not to make this weird but I've been keeping an eye on you, and you seem very... tentative. Uncomfortable maybe?"

"Do you double as a therapist? Super hero by day, shrink by night?" You questioned.

"It's actually more time efficient to be a shrink from nine to five, then work in the superhero stuff after."

"Oh, right, makes total sense!" You agreed with the nonsense.

"Sorry to interrupt but we're going to start running some of this, but stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes to see if we need more" The nurse said before leaving the room with the vials.

"How many of those have you filled?" Steve questioned, referring to the vials.

"I lost track after 15"

"Well now I have to fire you because you lost track of the vial count" He poked.

"I had a good run, it was an honor." You agreed.

"I heard you kicked ass yesterday in your agility assessment"

"Yeah? Who'd you hear that from?" You questioned.

"The assessor who has been stuck in bed all day with sore muscles an a pull in his abdomen" Steve laughed.

"Oops?"

"You're a way better fit than Tony made you out to be, he let me review your resume. I'm impressed."

"Thank you, it means a lot. I don't have a flying suit or a special power but I'll definitely try my hardest to keep up."

"Is that what this is about?" He asked, head tilting to the side again.

"What?"

"Your miserable face?" He picked up the way your eyes never left the floor in front of his feet.

You stopped to think about your next words so you could choose them wisely. You didn't want to come off as the overly emotional woman or seem unfit for your new role. "I'm not miserable, I'm just having a hard time believing I should be here." You admitted half the truth as he crumbled your protective walls.

"I'm sure it won't help much to tell you that you're qualified for the job, but here I am running my mouth anyway." He made fun of himself. "But I dunno, based off your record it seems like you're not the type to doubt your ability."

"Typically I'm not, but you guys are just so... established. I don't really know how to work my way in."

"You don't have to work your way in, everyone already wants you around. All you have to do is show up." Steve smiled.

"It's a little hard to show up when I'm a lab rat"

"Which is why I came to you"

"So I'm not getting fired...?"

"Still don't know that yet" Steve shrugged. "You seem pretty close with Scott already"

"Yeah, he's really sweet. We talked about his podcast and what Cassie is up too. He thinks Cassie and I are really similar" You explained.

"I also saw you talking to Thor" He pointed out.

"Thor was nice, lots of flattery."

"Flirting is what he does best" Steve pointed out. "Bucky? Sam? Nat? Peter Parker?"

"I've talked to Sam and Spidey, not so much Bucky and Nat"

"Okay, so it's not just me you avoid"

Your eyes snapped up off the floor at his statement, a small grin spread across his lips.

"I don't avoid you" You furrowed your brows, lying straight through your teeth.

"This is the first time we've had a conversation since we've met, you didn't text me back, and you leave the room every time I enter it." He challenged.

"I don't-"

"But you do" He insisted with a kind expression. He wasn't standing off or angry, he was empathetic. He just wanted to make sure you we're okay. "Why do you do that?"

"Steve" You warned.

"Do I make you uncomfortable? Did I do something to upset you?" He questioned further. "If we're going to be a team, we have to be comfortable with each other. We have to get along... build trust."

"It's not you" You shook your head, back slumping against the back of your chair contemplating if you were about to spill your guts to him. "Not your fault"

You cursed yourself for making him feel like he did something wrong, for allowing your grief to cloud this experience for you.

"But there's something wrong?" He asked sympathetically.

"Kind've? but also not really, and it's definitely not you" You nervously played with your fingers.

"Is it hard to talk about?"

"How could you tell?" You questioned rhetorically.

"I'm not going to force you into talking about it, but is there anything I can do to make it better?"

"You didn't do anything in the first place so I can't imagine you have to prove anything to me to make it better"

"I don't want you running away from me anymore, I really really really want to be friends with you" He pleaded like a child, it brought a smile to your face.

Of course he wanted to be friends with you, the prettiest girl he's ever seen. Quite honestly, his brain screamed at him to run away every time he saw you too. His palms would sweat and his heart would race, yet for some reason you pulled him in like a magnet.

Steve saw so many traits in you that he had when he first came out of the ice. Avoidance, distance, you just looked lost. You made yourself small, scurried through common areas quiet and stealth as a mouse, yet when you were around anyone who wasn't one of the Avengers, you became larger than life. Self assured with a big ear to ear smile on your face like you ruled the whole entire world.

He saw the way your eyes stayed trained on the floor, your fingers were constantly intertwined with each other in an anxious attempt to find something to fidget with, while the inside of your bottom lip squished between your teeth.

He knew the feeling all too well, it was like being stuck inside yourself with no way out. He saw the pain, he saw the struggle, he saw himself in you and he desperately wanted to pull you out.

"We can be friends" You told him, he swore that was the first time he had ever seen your real smile. Your big bright teeth were such an addictive sight, he wanted to see it over and over again.

"That means not running away from me anymore" Steve challenged.

"Am I running away right now?" You asked.

"No, but you also have tiny plastic tubes in your veins, there's kind've nowhere for you to go"

"Hey, I have extensive medical training, I could take these out no problem if I wanted to!" You proved your point. "And just for the record, I don't like having casual friends, it's best friends or nothing at all."

"Then it's settled, we're best friends now" He agreed.

The couple days after that, you actually did start feeling better about the situation in general. The huge wave of grief finally settled into tiny ripples, allowing for you to pop you head above the surface to take a big deep breath.

Steve helped. A lot.

Every single morning without fail, he would greet you with wide arms and an even wider smile before saying "good morning, best friend!" and trapping you in the biggest hugs you've ever received.

You two would go about your work like the adults you were, but Steve turned into a dysfunctional codependent every single time he got off work.

He would shove other team members out of the way so you could sit next to him while watching movies, he forced you out of your shell and invited you to everything. Dinners, bars, workouts at the gym, game night.

Eventually everyone was getting jealous that Steve took up all your time, and created a demand for the supply of you.

Before you even knew it, it felt like you were the most sought out avenger on the team. When you entered a room with more than one of them, it felt like getting pulled in a million different directions for a million different reasons.

But you would have that over feeling lost and unwanted any day. You had to hand it to Steve, it was like this was his plan all along.

He took you into the palm of his hand until you were comfortable, then shared you with everyone else. It was like he was the only one who really truly saw you for who you were.

After two months, he really did feel like a best friend. When you looked at him you didn't see a product of your childhood, you didn't see little you running around the park with a plastic shield, the little girl that would love to be the grown version of yourself, you saw your best friend. Your favorite gossip buddy, the guy who preferred hot lattes over iced ones, a big softy who cried over Friday night romcoms with you, the gentle giant who encourages you with a push without making you topple over.

You still had a hard day every once in a while, times where your muscles were too sore to move and days you desperately wanted to talk to your parents. Steve was always the first one to see the internal conflict. He saw it in your posture, the twinkle in your eyes would fizzle, and your smile only reached half capacity, but you did a good job trying to hide it.

So good that he was typically the only one who saw it. And on those days, he still would never make you talk about it.

He would hug you a little longer to say good morning, drag you out on a run, then force you to relax with him after work.

You knew he saw your struggle, and you knew he tried to make you feel better without saying a single word about it.

That's the funny thing about healing. It wasn't linear. Good days and bad days alike, you were just happy to be surrounded by people who genuinely loved you now. A whole bunch of dysfunctional codependents- a whole bunch of best friends.

Another crazy phenomenon started happening, you started seeing all of Steve's behavior too. You could spot his draining social battery, his sleepiness after a restless night, his distaste in a raunchy conversation, you knew how he was feeling before he expressed it, you always saw it.

And what you didn't know, was that he was silently grieving too. It seemed like everyone knew but you, especially one morning when you woke up and you didn't see Steve in the living room.

You didn't get your morning hug from your best friend, no gym Buddy in sight.

You walked in, stopped in your tracks, then pouted.

"What's wrong, Princess?" Thor questioned, Asgardian accent popping out.

"Where's Steve?" You questioned, turning you head towards Natasha.

"Oh, it's October 15th." Nat informed you, as if that was supposed to ring a bell. "We never see Steve on October 15th"

You stood there throughly confused, cocking your head to the side.

"Oh yeah, it's National leave Steve Rogers alone day" Bucky giggled to himself.

"I'm so confused" You admitted, walking towards the kitchen island where Bucky and Nat stood around.

"It's the anniversary of his Mom's passing, he usually spends the day at the cemetery and doesn't like to be bothered." Bucky explained.

All you did was nod, you understood now.

"You know, it happened in 1936, you'd think he would be over it by now" Bucky added, causing an immediate pang in your heart. "It doesn't even feel like we're in the same world as her anymore, yet he always goes back."

"Rogers' is a very sensitive soul, you gotta let him have it" Nat playfully nudged Bucky's elbow.

The subject ended as fast as it started, and you certainly weren't going to bring it up again. You ate breakfast with them like business per usual, then went about the rest of your day.

The only difference is that you spent your downtime today going to the craft store to pick up supplies for something you haven't made since middle school, then you sat in your room with a romcom in the background while you worked away.

Once you were happy with the result and everyone else had gone to bed, you moved your movie over to the living room and waited for Steve to come home.

It took a few hours, but he stumbled through the door at around 11:30. He set his keys down on the counter, and kicked his shoes off by the door before dragging his feet all the way over to you and fell onto the couch with a heavy plop.

The whole couch was available, but he sat right next to you, so you took half your blanket and threw it over his lap. You pulled something out of your pocket, then grabbed his forearm and moved it so it was settled on your lap while you tied the product of your hard work around his wrist.

A friendship bracelet.

You made two of them, a bunch of threads knotted together now lived on both of your wrists as a symbol of your best friendship. The one you put on him was the colors of your suit, while the one you wore was red white and blue.

After you tied it on, you put your wrist next to his to show him what you had done.

Although you could see his tired and sad eyes, he still smiled. It was a genuine smile too, the kind that makes your whole face scrunch up.

"I've never had friendship bracelets with anyone before" He admitted while looking at you as if you had just forced his inner child out.

"Well now you do, congratulations" You grinned, speaking softly.

"You just made my whole day a million times better" He smiled. "I'm never taking it off, thank you. You're a peach"

"You are very welcome, best friend" You grinned before turning you attention back to the movie. "Juno, have you ever seen it?"

"Mhm, I love this movie" He gave a small nod.

"Wanna watch with me? I can restart it, I don't mind."

"You're doing that thing, aren't you?" He questioned sheepishly.

"Thing? What thing?" You questioned even though you were definitely doing that thing.

"The thing I always do to you. Where you know I had a bad day, and you're trying to cheer me up without forcing me to talk about it?"

"Oh! That thing!" You exaggerated. "Pssst, why would I ever do that? Of course if you were having a bad day I'd let you suffer alone. Who do you think I am? Mother Theresa? I don't offer those services, Rogers. I'm glad you had a terrible time."

"You suck" He scrunched up his nose.

"What can I say? I'm a terrible awful no good human being" You shrugged. "Which is exactly why you are going to eat ice cream with me, and we're going to watch Juno. Oh! And if you're really good, maybe tomorrow I'll teach you how to make friendship bracelets so you can make some for your boyfriends"

"My boyfriends?"

"Sam and Bucky obviously"

"Oh, right" He hummed before letting his head hit the back of the couch. His smile faded fast but he was trying really hard not to kill the mood.

"Would talking about it make you feel better?" You asked sympathetically. "Bucky kinda told me what was up, but not in great detail."

"I don't even know what there is to say. It's been so long, yet every year on this day if feels like it just happened yesterday. I don't even know if my own mother would recognize me if she saw me now."

"Of course she would, you look the same! Just taller" You smiled. "Did you have a good relationship with your mom?"

"Yeah, the best. The best heart I've ever known"

"Well, obviously she passed that down to you"

"I don't know about that, but I'll take it" He pressed his hand to his chest. "I'll get over it. It's silly. Just one day a year where I can't seem to shake it, but I'll be okay."

"Of course you'll be okay, but I don't think it's silly. Losing a parent isn't something you just get over, it's okay to welcome that grief and sit in it for a little while. It's a beautiful reminder of all the love you still have for her." You reminded him. "You don't always have to be the tough guy."

"What are your parents like?" Steve asked, finally looking at your face.

"Dead" you said bluntly.

"Nice, mine too" he laughed at your answer.

"We just have so much in common!" You faked enthusiasm. "My dad is dead, he passed when I was 12. My mom is figuratively dead, she also passed when I was 12 but unfortunately I didn't get a chance to discard the remains until I was 18"

"Did you kill your mother?" He whispered jokingly.

"I probably should've" you whispered back, earning not so quiet laughter. "She's been calling me for weeks wondering where I am, but I really think she would be happier if one of us was dead"

"She doesn't know you're an Avenger now?" He questioned seeming genuinely surprised.

"The only people that know are my old commanding officers" You admitted. "Probably the only people who care."

"They must be very proud"

"Okay, this is not about me" You giggled, trying to steer the conversation away from all the emotions that tend to consume you.

"I'm proud of you" He ignored your plea.

His words hit you like semi truck, you had to bite your bottom lip to keep it from quivering and giving away all the emotions flooding your brain.

"I wanna hear more about your mom" You told him in another desperate attempt.

"I'm the sad one, which means I get to choose what we talk about to make me feel better, which means I want to know why you get so worked up around me sometimes." He lifted his hand just to poke your arm.

You covered your face with your hands before letting out a dramatic groan that caused him to laugh. "So embarrassing"

"What could possibly be so embarrassing?" He asked, gently prying your hands away from your face. "I'm probably the least judgmental person you'll ever meet" he smiled when your eyes poked out.

"God- I hate you, Rogers" You complained in defeat.

"Mhm, tell me more" A laugh erupted from his chest.

"Do I really have to?" You complained.

"No" He shook his head. "If it's still too hard to talk about we don't have to" He dropped the act and let go of your wrists.

He was so sweet, the sugar rotted away your brick wall. Oh, and when he looked at you with those big, blue, puppy dog eyes you couldn't deny him of anything.

"Ugh! Fine!" You surrendered. "I'll tell you but I swear if you laugh or make fun of me I'll never tell you anything ever again!"

All he did was smirk and lift up his pinky finger to wrap around yours, a non-verbal promise. "We have friendship bracelets for a reason! I take this very seriously, best friend."

"Okay. When I was a kid I had three ultimate heroes" You started, taking a moment to acclimate to the embarrassment. "My dad, my mom, and you."

"Me?!" He pointed to himself with a big goofy smile on his face.

"You" You nodded. "My parents were both military and you were... well... you, so I just thought the three of you guys were just the epitome of what a human should be. I dunno, I guess back then it was so simple, such a sacred part of my childhood."

"I am pretty cool, aren't I?" He joked.

"You suck, I hate you now, remember?" You joked back. "Don't let this inflate you're ego."

"They do say don't meet your heroes" He nudged you with his shoulder.

"All of that was before my dad passed and my relationship with my mom got complicated." You further explained. "It's really weird for me, most of my life I thought you were dead. And now, during such a pivotal point in my life, I don't have either of my parents but I have you. Having someone around again that means so much to me and be so kind to me has been an adjustment. I appreciate you so much, but sometimes I can't help but to think of how complete I would feel if i still had my parents to see all of this craziness. In a weird way, it makes me grieve all over again."

"When my mom passed, I was too sick to even tie my own shoes. My dad was gone before I was even born. I always wonder what my mom would say if she say all of this. A part of me thinks she would be happy for me, but a bigger part of me thinks I'd give the poor woman a heart attack if she knew what I've been up to" He explained. "Sometimes, all I want to do is just talk to her. Tell her about how life has been going, let her know everything about me. But I can't. And it seems like you can't do that either, so when you feel that way, just come talk to me. I'll always listen, okay?"

You nodded and swallowed back a lump in your throat. You know your behavior at the beginning of this journey all made sense to him now, it was like he could finally see you for who you actually are, rather than who he thought you might've been.

"You need a hug?" He asked.

"You give the best hugs" You nodded.

He held his arms out for you, inviting you into his personal space. You accepted by snuggling close and holding him just as tight as he was holding you.

"I really am proud of you" he insisted. "Thank you for trusting me"

"I guess I don't hate you that bad"

"Yes! Best complement ever" he happily accepted. "See?! We're still best friends!"

“Uh huh” You sarcastically giggled as he let you go.

In such a short amount of time, you already found yourself missing his touch.

Next part: Touch

[reanimatedheart]

AHHH this is my first time asking something on here so am nervous sorry~

I’d love to know how our romancable companions would react to hyper expressive auDHD MC? You know, theatrical kind of manner, not really much of a filter in terms of what’s proper to ask or say, lots of stimming and incoherent noises. Very energetic but can get quiet and dissociate easily. (Totally not asking to self-insert better before working on fanarts haaaa haaa haaa)~

Also I need you to know how much I ADORE this game. The lore, the world-building, the characters and the choices that actually MATTER. THE WRITING! THE SOUNDTRACK AND THE ART AUUUUGH!!! It’s so good, it’s officially my newest hyperfixation. Thank you for making this piece of art, I’m buzzing and can’t wait for moooore! And the gnome scene really was hilarious, I was choking on air and saliva, xoxo

Thank you for the nice compliments! I'm so happy you like it. :D

This is an interesting question. I try to avoid specificity with the MC because I want people to be able to immerse themselves in them as much as possible, but I do have a lot of thoughts about this scenario.

Black would honestly find it refreshing. I don't think he's accepted it himself (he doesn't believe in therapy LOL), but I'm pretty sure he's autistic. Esp if the MC is very blunt or makes their thoughts and boundaries very clear. Black is the type of person that misses a lot of social cues, and people make fun of him for it. He takes things people say very seriously. If the MC just tells him their thoughts, he'll remember them and act accordingly. And I think this would make the MC feel safe too, because they would feel like he's not playing games with them.

This scenario is interesting with Crux in particular. They aren't in the game yet, but actually, his bio dad and favorite little sister are like this, and he would be able to tell immediately. He won't make a big deal out of it, but he'll be adjusting around the MC. Take them to quieter places, make sure their seat is comfortable, etc. The MC will just find this out that oh, he's always playing obnoxiously loud music in the car and smoking, but he never does it around them.

I also think in a weird way, he'd be way more honest around the MC, but he won't let them know he is. Like Crux is the type of person that keeps his real feelings and thoughts close to his sleeve, because he has a whole complex about being "weird" in ways he can't control, so it's made him a bit of a liar. But if it's the MC, he'd just say his real feelings, because he suspects they won't judge him for it.

Vincenzo is complicated because he is very mentally ill and neurodivergent, but for most of his life, he was in an All Boy's Catholic Boarding School. He was bullied for being weak, weird, effeminate, etc. If he notices these traits in MC, he'll degrade them for it, and in a fucked up way, see this humiliation ritual as actually beneficial to MC, because it would teach the MC not to show strangers their neck.

But I feel like, if the MC gets closer to him, that he'd be able to face aspects of himself that he's tried to suffocate for years, and it would be liberating to him.

[averagemrfox]

2 for the ask game for each member of team RWBY!!!!!

Alright I’m home from work and have had time to think

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

First of all this goes for every single one of them and my individual answers might overlap with this we’ll see. I love how much they’ve all grown and persevered! They’ve been through so fucking much both together as a team and separately and have come out on the other side of it. They were kids!! They made bunk beds and had food fights and were starting to figure out the types of people they wanted to be and then got thrust into Remnant’s Worst Divorce™️ and throughout all of it have only grown closer as a team (not friends family!!) and still have hope that they can make the world a better place (Keep moving forward!!!) (They all need therapy tho fr)

Ruby: she’s perfect just the way she is!! This is supposed to be about the canon things I love about these character but god do I want Ruby to see herself as an individual separate from Summer. I think she’s getting there after her talk with the blacksmith. She’s just so accepting of people without hesitation. Penny is a robot? Don’t care new best friend. Little is a talking mouse? Don’t care new best friend pt 2. I’m sure there’s other examples but she’s always so ready to just let people be who they are and I wish she’d give herself that same grace

She’s also just a giant fucking nerd. About weapons about comics about video games

Weiss: 🗣️🗣️I DONT KNOW WHO YOU THINK YOU ARE BUT LET ME TELL YOU WHO I AM. I AM THE GRANDDAUGHTER OF A HERO AND THE CHILD OF A VILLAIN. I AM A CITIZEN OF A FALLEN KINGDOM AND AN HEIR TO NOTHING. I WILL NOT BE DEFINED BY MY NAME BECAUSE I WILL BE THE ONE TO DEFINE IT. I AM WEISS SCHNEE AND I AM A HUNTRESS🗣️🗣️

Also I love that she’s canonically a fairly well known (at least in atlas) singer. Now I’m not sure she’d do that by choice based on what we saw in v4 but it’s super cool that that This Life is Mine is canon to remnant because of that. Also Jacques made her sing and she was like alright bet and then roasted him in song on stage in front of all those people and we don’t talk about that enough I think

Blake: I say that’s my baby and I’m really proud

Blake tells Sun she joined the white fang 5 years ago in v2. She was TWELVE she was a BABY!! If I had to give Blake a word the way she gives others a word it would be conviction. She never gives up on what she believes in. And she does her best to support others in doing the same, in v7 she tried to encourage ironwood and in v9 she tried to encourage Ruby poor girl got shut down both times but she tried!!

I also love how Blake is canonically a good artist and would like to see more of that. crwby show us a drawing Blake made of Yang

These:

Yang: this girl can fit so much love in her god. She goes to any and every length to protect the people she loves even if it’s to her own detriment (which someone really needs to have a conversation with her about) the Yellow Trailer tells us straight away that there’s more to her than meets the eye and yet there are people who fell into that trap anyway and criticize her character for “not being fun anymore” as if that isn’t the point!!

She’s so confident and cocky until a pretty girl Blake flirts with her I love the disaster lesbian representation.

She punched god in the tiddies!!! And she’d do it again I bet! Maybe we’ll see her punch one or both of the Brothers next I’d like that

This:

[thenamesblurrito]

assorted Transformers fics to rec (part 1...?)

i really do think fic recs are valuable to fandom so here’s a random collection of Transformers fics i like, with no particular theme. these were compiled by frantically googling half-remembered bits to try and find the only ones i remember reading years ago, and i know i’m missing some i’d like to include

EDIT: part 2 here!

A Prime Performance

TFP AU, incomplete, AO3. Megatron is an actor in a children’s show. this is just as hilarious as you think it is. some slowburn MegOp. i love all the easter eggs and references and the way this in-universe show is created and run?? it’s fascinating

All Roads Lead to Rome

no set continuity/vaguely Bayverse, oneshot, AO3. a huge robot warrior like Sunstreaker is odd enough in modern times, just imagine him in ancient Rome. extremely interesting premise to me i love this bit and would love more. warning for typical crass patriarchal expectations for women in marriage but nothing actually explicit

Another Gate

Bayverse, complete multichap, FFN. whatever Sam is now, it isn’t human. some REAL good body horror, friendship, and alien strangeness ooooo

Bodies (break)

IDW, oneshot, AO3. Ultra Magnus goes to therapy and Rung is something wrong. oooooooghhghghhf i LOVE when people lean into the oddness and creepiness of the local god

Brave New World

fan canon, ongoing webcomic, TFW05. a spin on BW among other things, following Rodimus Prime’s crew of beastformers as they face down an assortment of bad guys and mysteries. LOVE this canon guys i LOVE it, very very good beast mode choices, very heartfelt and very funny, i also love seeing the art progression over the years. lovely webcomic here

Burn a hole in the old grip of the familiar

TFP, complete multichap, AO3, NSFW near the end. it’s focused on Ultra Magnus/reader but the first half of this fic is probably my favorite. the overwhelm and incredulity the reader character grapples with for awhile, i feel like it’s pretty realistic for someone who’s been shoved into a weird new world. DEFINITELY did Breakdown dirty though. has sequels that i haven’t read

dares for the first time

G1, oneshot, AO3. lovely little take on a G1 Guiding Hand that makes me feel things

Dog of Law

IDW, complete multichap, AO3. the Lost Light crew don’t find Minimus in Tyrest’s cells, they find a small green turbofox. lovely character driven piece here and honestly i just really like when his canonical turbofox alt is used i think it’s a shame we never got it in the story proper

First Contact

IDW, incomplete, AO3. listen it’s only a little bit written but i am OBLIGATED to post isekai/modern girl in Middle Earth/falling into fiction type of stories and i really liked the setup for this one okay! i love isekai and this was the only one i could remember to track down

Grey Is The Night

Batman/vaguely IDW crossover, complete multichap, AO3. there’s a new police car in Gotham, and it’s up to no good. listen i don’t even do DC stuff but Batman meeting Prowl here is done MARVELOUSLY ohhh i love this very much, the plot is GOOD, and i bet folks who actually like DC will love it even more

Hazard Light

IDW, oneshot, AO3. a hanahaki take on Brainstorm/Perceptor that i actually like, despite not usually enjoying hanahaki at all, with some nice Cybertronian biology too

How to Save the World in 8 Minutes and 3 Seconds

vaguely G1/continuity soup, oneshot, AO3. how does Prowl save a species, with blocked communications, no visuals, and a short time limit? why, he just keeps an eye on social media of course! a lil dark and fun and clever

In Media Bellum

TFP, incomplete, AO3. human reader is caught up with Team Prime in a delightful exploration of culture and introspection and found family. no shipping but masterful platonic relationship work! it feels... idk relaxed? caring? i love the tone of this writing

Juxtaposition

vaguely G1, complete multichap, FFN (also on AO3 but never finished crossposting). a human OC gets in a car accident and starts hearing voices in her head, unknowingly saving a Cybertronian’s life, even if it’s in a very atypical manner. love this OC, love the whole premise here and the exploration of an alien reality from a human POV. no shipping, if that’s not ur thing

Lost Light/Rodimus

IDW, oneshot, Tumblr. the ship comes to life and has something important to ask Rodimus. i love this concept it’s very good, very intriguing

Magnus Carey

IDW, oneshot, AO3. Verity teaches Minimus about Christmas. short and sweet, i love their friendship

My Totally Real Mary Sue Husband Who Lives Back On Cybertron

TFA, oneshot, AO3, Dratchet. “Ratchet offhandedly mentions he's conjunxed. Bumblebee refuses to believe him. Hijinks ensue.” funny and in character and sweet

Mythbusters Season Nine Interlude: The Autobot Special

G1/Mythbusters crossover, oneshot, AO3. busting some myths AND some Decepticons! it just keeps getting better and better the further you read. i laughed out loud so many times, and cheered at recognizing so many classic Mythbusters bits, and i will get on my hands and knees to beg for a Dirty Jobs sequel these shows were my CHILDHOOD

Patronus

TFP, twoshot, AO3. Megatron has teatime with Rung, who... is not a normal bot. more good good Rung being something wrong

Property Of

Bayverse, incomplete, FFN. when Sam and Mikaela meet Bumblebee, it isn’t as an Autobot scout, but rather as a new owner of these recently discovered organic animals called “humans”. a very well done human pet fic that doesn’t veer into psychological torture or boundary crossing or anything (sorry if that’s your jam) and while it’s incomplete i still love what’s there, especially as the kids learn how to communicate their personhood to an ignorant Bee

Rules to Follow When Making First Contact

continuity soup/fan canon, ongoing series, AO3. listen i know many folks aren’t here for the human characters but i LOVE all the humans here they are each characterized so well and i love seeing how its been blended together across canons. this is a very clever, very engaging setup with a very grounded presence for alien robots that hits in ALL the right places for me. AUTOBOTS LEARNING ENGLISH YALL!!! YES!!! very good very good

Scrimscrim

TFP....... sort of, incomplete, AO3. what do you do when you end up with a Starscream toy brought to life? this is a hilarious premise with good characterization, a lovely human OC, a ridiculous situation handled very realistically, and generally good fun to read. reverse isekai is perhaps more of a favorite of mine than isekai!

SG Prime

TFP SG au, ongoing webcomic, own website and DA. REALLY REALLY COOL YALL. fantastic designs and inclusions and expanding on TFP lore and making very interesting SG dynamics and just. excellent.

TFP Wheeljack in TFA

TFP/TFA crossover, ongoing series of posts, Tumblr. i LOVE crossovers, i will kill and die for crossovers, and this is one of the few i’ve been able to find! there’s enough posts under that tag that i haven’t been able to read them all but what i did see is GOOD

The Echo Garden

IDW/TFP crossover, incomplete, AO3. Soundwave gets picked up by the Lost Light. okay i am a SUCKER for crossovers as previously stated and this one is Good. leans fully into being a crossover and expounding on the differences between universes. Soundwave needs to figure out what to do with himself! also features some delightful slowburn SoundRod and a lovely ensemble cast. Toaster is the best

The One Where The Decepticons Are The Good Guys

TFP SG au, incomplete, AO3. i’m not typically a fan of Shattered Glass stuff but this doesn’t feel terribly OOC or completely upended or alien to the original plot, i think this is done very well and i can’t wait for more

Transformers Recovery: Primal Launch

fan canon, complete multichap, AO3. it’s like the Lost Light but weirder, i don’t even know how to convey its awesomeness. VERY funny, VERY cool, Sky Lynx is there, Swerve is important, Riptide is such a good bot, Megatron exists, just all good things here. treat yourself and read this it’s such a delight

Twenty-Five to Life

vaguely IDW, oneshot, AO3. Starscream/Minimus soulmate au that makes me wheeze when i read it because it it so painfully in character and hilarious oh my god i am CRYING laughing by the time i finish it. petty criminal Starscream, noble Minimus, oil and water. gets raunchy but nothing explicit with an NSFW sequel

Under Control Till You’re In Front Of Me

G1, oneshot, AO3. i need more people to join the Shockwave/Moonracer ship please please it’s good

Xenoethnography

canon soup/based in TFP, ongoing series, AO3. a more hard scifi take on Transformers from the POV of an anthropologist hired to study them. y’all, THIS IS GOOD. seriously if there’s one fic out of all of these i could keep, it’d be this one, it’s just so so good ugh. ugh i love it i need to catch up with it again

[tangledbea]

Personally, I think Cassandra's villain arc was misunderstood. I believe the Gothel thing was meant to be the straw that broke the camels back, but a lot of people acted as if it was the only reason. It was a major factor, sure, but people seemed to ignore Waiting in the Wings, how Cass pretty much put her life on pause to help Rapunzel on her quest, the hand thing, how Cassandra felt like Rapunzel didn't listen to her anymore, and just the unequal power dynamic with Cassandra technically being Rapunzels servant. Not to mention the play scene in Once a Handmaiden, where its acknowledged that Cass and Rapunzel didn't work their feelings out the best. There were many reasons contributing to why Cass did what she did. It wasn't just the Gothel thing. Although I do agree that Varians arc was much better written.

P.s. This doesn't have much to do with my main point, but I think the reason many people were underwhelmed by the reason for Cassandra's turn might be because there was the hiatus after season 2. We were left questioning why Cass took the moonstone for months, and the hiatus gave us time to forget some of the stuff from S2 I mentioned above. When we got our answer in that controversial plot twist, some people's reactions may have been "Seriously!? That's why?"

The thing is, they show acted like Gothel being her mother was her main deciding factor. Yes, there were a lot of other things along the way (none of which I personally felt would be reasonably concluded with, "And so I betrayed my best friend and decided to take over her kingdom, and if I kill her in the process, that's fine"), but the show itself threw the rest of it out the window as soon as the Gothel reveal happened. From my understanding, the showrunner literally said that her burnt arm didn't matter anymore after it had served its purpose, and that's why she was able to physical therapy it back into use on the road and why it didn't factor in at all once she got the black rock armor.

The writers did their best to wrangle her arc back on track, but CS literally just wanted her to be Gothel's daughter, and for that to be the main reason she turned on Rapunzel, because villainy is hereditary, apparently. With all the other little things that added up, it could have been a very good villain arc, but they used the Gothel thing as the straw that broke the camel's back, then had her site that over and over, drew parallels between them, did their best to make it the most important reason.

As for me, I was loudly and adamantly against the idea of Cassandra being Gothel's daughter, which had been speculated upon since Tangled Before Ever After aired. In fact, I was so opposed to the concept that multiple people asked me if I was alright after "Rapunzel's Return" aired, because they knew that it becoming canon was going to upset me. And it did. I was so disgusted by that choice that it has forever tainted my view of Cassandra.

You're entitled to your opinion, but please don't be under the impression that I don't take other things into consideration.

[aydaptic]

Sorry if you've already answered this before but I'm new to the fandom and I found your account through your web-comic and I was wondering what is it about Gavin that you like so much? Why is he one of your favourite characters in dbh? (I've noticed that he isn't much of a fan-favourite in this fandom 😔)

This'll be a long post, but you asked (...and I'll happily answer!) I'll add some descriptions for context. At the top of my head, I can think of 21 reasons why I like his canon equivalent.

1. He's charismatic

Gav gives off an energy that makes it easy to hang onto his every word. I can quote all his lines by heart and I like listening to Neil Newbon (in this specific role) talk. I remember some of Kamski's lines as well -- also mo-capped/voice acted by Newbon -- but Kamski doesn't have nearly as much charisma as Gav does.

2. He's expressive

Ppl who 'talk with their hands' are more charismatic. Gav is all over the place in the break room if you stick around. Hand gestures capture people's attention as they emphasize what is being said.

3. He doesn't think androids are alive (...so in his eyes, the way he treats them isn't wrong)

"Could always try roughin' it up a little. After all... it's not human." - Gavin Reed, The Interrogation

That means he wouldn't rough up a human suspect. This alone justifies his unpleasant attitude towards androids. Hank -- who treated Connor way worse than Gav ever did -- changed his mind. Nothing says Gav can't do the same.

If Alexa suddenly said she was alive, the vast majority wouldn't take it seriously (if any at all.)

4. He's sarcastic

"Congratulations on last night, very impressive." - Gavin Reed, Waiting For Hank...

5. He has dark humor

6. He looks down on people that pay for s*x

Quote above. You don't call someone a "pervert" if you agree with their actions. The Eden Club, in particular, is immoral AF... bc those androids don't have a choice. Gav doesn't care about them being androids, but he still looks down on the guy who paid money to get laid, and I applaud Gav for that. Especially when said guy also had a wife and kids.

7. He has valid concerns about androids taking jobs

Anyone who says differently is either in denial, uninformed, or never had a job they were scared to get fired from. There's already been an uproar about ChatGPT and that's nothing compared to how advanced Detroit: Become Human androids are. The unemployment rate in this game is 37% -- higher than it was during the Great Depression and C*VID -- and androids are the main cause.

I've seen a lot of ppl ask this question:

Q: Why not just buy an android and have them do your job for you, then? You get the money anyway bc it's your android!

A: Bc, believe it or not, the vast majority of men want to work. This is a strange concept to grasp for a lot of ppl. I admire Gav for being one of those men who wants to do it themselves. Letting someone else do your job is taking the easy way out.

8. He's a hard worker

Gallery: "...Ruthlessly ambitious, Reed will do anything to advance his career, even if it means treading on other peoples’ toes."

9. He's ambitious

See the quote above.

10. He doesn't sleep well

This isn't just a headcanon. He has literal bags under his eyes. Just knowing he doesn't sleep well already has me asking, "why?" It's interesting.

11. He puts his feet on the table

After Connor interacts with him in the break room, Gav will go to his desk and do this. I'll go into detail about why this contributes to my liking his character in the very last point.

12. He calls Hank out on his alcoholism

As much as most of us love Hank, he's not in a good space mentally. Showing up drunk/hungover to work should not be tolerated. It not only puts coworkers, but also civilians, at risk. Hank should be in therapy instead of working at the DPD until he gets his life sorted out.

13. He calls Fowler out for giving Hank special treatment

"You won't get away with it this time." - Gavin Reed, The Interrogation (after Hank pulls a literal gun on a human coworker AKA Gav)

So Gav has brought it up to Fowler before and is about to do it again. Ties into the point above. What Hank does -- like assaulting a literal FBI agent -- shouldn't be tolerated.

14. He's a control freak

I gravitate towards ppl and characters who take charge. Those who like being in control and know what they're doing. I'm a control freak myself, but I'd prefer to let someone else take the reins as long as I agree with their methods. I like it when ppl know what they want and act on it. Gav does both.

15. He's protective of his coworkers

I was unsure whether or not to add this as I guess it can be seen as a subjective theory and not an objective fact.

Gav only ever steps in with the gun in The Interrogation when Con uses aggressive force on Chris Miller by tearing him away from the deviant. Con did this after disobeying Gav 3 times. So yeah. Gav is justified for stepping in. Hank, on the other hand, isn't justified for pulling a gun on a human coworker. I see this scene as Gav protecting Chris from Con who is showing signs of deviancy.

16. He can't wink

Endearing.

17. He pouts a lot

Again, endearing.

18. He swears like a sneezing kitten

Same as the two points above.

19. He doesn't like Connor

I don't like Con, either. Yeah. We exist. Personality types like Con's "let's be friends" attitude and constant positivity pisses me off. Before anyone comments that the player decides Con's personality... no. Only to an extent. There are several instances where the player has no say whatsoever. Some of Con's pre-determined responses annoy me.

20. He has great fashion

Big fan of leather jackets.

21. I like him bc I'm a narcissist at times

He's essentially the male equivalent of me to the T. I'm only an asshole internally, though. We love (or hate) characters we relate to. I relate to every single point except 17 and 18 on this list.

There you go :)

His OOC fanon equivalent has a huge fanbase -- especially on Twitter/X and Tumblr turning him into a blushing teenage girl -- but it seems like I'm the only person who can't stand that OOC portrayal of him. That said, I adore his canon equivalent in all his asshole glory.

[aimportantdragoncollector]

*cracks knuckles* For the ask game, AU where Endeavor tries to be a better dad to his kids (Dabi included). The results are... mixed. Please.

Mixed is the best Endeavor can hope for, eh?

In this AU, Rei had a moment of clarity when Touya tried to strangle baby Shouto. She decided that she needed to get Shouto out of that house, no matter what. She tried to leave with all of her children except Touya. (Yes, she was abandoning Touya. She felt like she had no other choice.) Natsuo refused to leave without Touya. In the end, Rei left with Fuyumi and baby Shouto.

Endeavor returned home to find a note and two hungry boys demanding dinner. Importantly, because Fuyumi was gone, Endeavor couldn't parentify her. Endeavor was forced to become a single dad to two boys and quickly realized how much work Rei had been doing. He knew nothing about cooking or cleaning. He sent Rei expensive jewelry begging her to come back. She sold it so she could rent an apartment instead of staying at a women's shelter.

Touya was delighted to have all of his father's attention, and bragged about driving off Shouto and "the useless females." Endeavor realized that his son had toxic attitudes toward women that probably came from watching how his father treated his mother. Finally making a real commitment to changing, Endeavor started attending therapy.

After Endeavor took a leave from work to look after his sons and work on himself, the media found out about his separation from his wife. Endeavor received public criticism about about letting his personal life interfere with his work. People said that All Might was the number one hero because he never took breaks. Interestingly, All Might stepped up to defend Endeavor. All Might spoke publicly about how heroes deserved work-life balance and about his own exhaustion from overwork. Then All Might showed up at the Todoroki doorstep with frozen meals and an offer to babysit. Endeavor was so relieved to get help that he broke down ugly crying. Strangely, this is the AU where All Might and Endeavor become friends.

Endeavor never got back together with Rei, but they divorced amicably and developed a good co-parenting relationship. The kids spent equal time at both homes. Touya never set himself on fire because Endeavor got him into therapy and gave him more attention. However, Endeavor made the mistake of trying too hard to force Touya to get along with Shouto. It would have been better if Endeavor let it happen more gradually, but instead Endeavor kept forcing them to interact. This only made Touya resent his little brother more. Touya became hyper-competitive toward Shouto.

Shouto does not hate his father. However, Shouto grew tired of Endeavor constantly forcing him into family therapy with Touya. Endeavor would constantly ask Shouto to get along better with Touya, when actually Touya was one-sidedly insulting and bullying Shouto. There was nothing Shouto could do to fix this relationship because Shouto wasn't the problem. Shouto spends less time at his father's house as a result.

Ironically, when they became teenagers, Touya and Shouto bonded over how much they hated it when their father forced them together. Then they started picking fights with each other just to upset Endeavor. As you said, the overall results for this family were mixed. But it still beats canon!