#Do-we-really-need-dashes-in-between-words-in-tags?

[ghstzzn]

saints. ━━ jung wooyoung

pairing(s): jung wooyoung x fem!reader (a dash of san x reader.)

genre: SMUT! MDNI! angst (if you squint)

synopsis: addicted to the sweet taste of hatred, you let wooyoung use you over and over again— even after fucking his best friend. 1.6k words.

warnings/general tags: smut (mdni.), angst like if u squint fr, unprotected sex, mean dom!wooyoung, cum eating (?) rough sex, kind of degradation?, name calling (he calls her a whore twice but one is not in a sexy way), ass smacking, overstim, none really for san except f!rec oral, honestly his scene wasn’t all that intense, it was for plot, they are toxic, not a lot of plot just needed dom wooyoung, he sends pics of u both to san ;) (lmk if that needs an actual tag???)

note: needed to put out a cute little nasty smut to distract everyone from my evil plans!! i wanted to do a threesome (we know how much i fw those) but i got way too into the solo wooyoung smut so 😭 sorry!!!!! // also i tried a new thing in my writing with the sudden scene changes idk if i fw it tho!!

You weren’t going to lie to anyone– you knew exactly how you got here.

With San, the best friend of your ex-boyfriend (some would even call them platonic soulmates), in between your legs, lapping up your juices and praising you as if you were a goddess.

Yet, you weren’t anything close to a god. Not a saint, an angel– you were nothing. Wooyoung’s top priority was making sure you got that through your pretty little head during every screaming match that ended with you fucking the souls out of each other. You would feel guilty for San, but you can’t.

Because he knows.

Sans bruising grip on your thighs tells you everything you need to know. He pushes your legs further apart as he sits up, your release smeared across his lips. You stare at him, breathing heavily as you recover from your orgasm.

“Ride me?”

And with that, you’re whimpering as you force your body upright to ride him. San grips your hips, assisting just enough to help your hips roll against him, his cock hitting that sweet spot so deliciously.

If there were a badge specifically for fucking your best friends ex girlfriend; San would wear it with honor.

Your phone dings repeatedly, enough to snap you out of your fucked out state. You lift your arm to reach for your phone but San is quick to grab your wrist, and within a second you’re placed on your back again as he sets a pace that has you seeing stars.

And it always ends the same.

San is wiping your cum stained thighs, massaging your hips as he does so. You both giggle and tease each other as you dress yourselves.

“See you soon?”

“Get home quickly! It’s cold.”

“Drive safe, baby.”

“Text me when you get home!”

Such domestic, comforting statements that could have anyone’s heart fluttering. Phrases that would surely allude to you being in a relationship with the man who leaves your dorm multiple times a week during the night.

You smile to yourself as you watch your ex-boyfriend's best friend walk towards the elevator, closing your door softly once he enters.

Sitting criss cross on your bed, you grab your phone, checking through your notifications. You pause when Wooyoung's contact pops up; multiple missed calls and over ten messages sent to you.

do not answer him, girl:

are you up? y/n answer the phone please. i just wanna see you. baby? are u studying? can i help? baby come on u read all my messages

you:

don't call me baby, wooyoung

wooyoung: where are u? let me pick u up?

You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You know you shouldn’t. It never ends well for either of you, and your heart physically hurts when you see him or hear about him.

So you do exactly what you shouldn’t do.

━━━━━━━━━

Your eyes flutter open and you breathe in softly as you bury yourself deeper into Wooyoung's hold. You lift your head slightly to study your ex-boyfriend’s face.

It’s moments like this that delude you into thinking everything could change. That you and Wooyoung could work again— to be happy again. To be the couple you once were.

You held onto every ounce of hope you could, because you really did still love him. But at the same time, you held so much hatred for the man holding you in his arms as if he were yours. You didn’t sleep with him last night, he really did want to see you. And this only made it worse for you.

“You’re still here?” A groggy voice speaks up.

You scoff. “Of course I’m still here, Wooyoung.”

He yawns and removes his arms from you with haste, quickly sitting up and running his hands through his hair.

“Why?” You don’t reply to him. Why were you still there? Lingering around you ex-boyfriend pathetically— as if you hadn’t just fucked his best friend. What is wrong with you?

Wooyoung stands from the bed, rolling his shoulders back as he stretches and pops his neck, “You know, when I picked you up last night?”

“What about it?”

“Your room reeked of sex.” And with that he walks out of his room, mumbling something about you.

You roll your eyes and practically jump out of his bed, following him to the kitchen.

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that?”

He lets out a dry chuckle, “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, Wooyoung.” You stomp in front of him. “Say it.”

“I just think it’s pathetic how you let another man fuck you yet ran straight to me after a few texts.” Wooyoung states, leaning against the counter.

A few texts?

You inhale deeply, “First of all, it’s none of your business who I’m fucking or not. Second, you practically begged me to come over— don’t act like a goddamn saint here”

“You look like a whore.”

“Good one.”

“Get out of my house, Y/N.”

Wooyoung pushes past you, ignoring your presence as he picks up any messes from the nights before.

“You can’t just-“ You run your hands over your face, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Wooyoung.”

He doesn’t respond, giving you a sign to keep going.

“What are we doing here? We are broken up for fucks sake. You sit here and start fights with me but a few days later you’re begging me to come over, Wooyoung, begging.”

He turns around, rolling his eyes directly at you. Your chest only boils with more anger at his childish antics.

“Is this a fucking joke to you? Do you think this is a game?”

“Yes! It’s hilarious, Y/N.” Wooyoung shouts in response, “it’s fucking hilarious that no matter what you’re doing in your life, you will always come back to me.”

“And I'm trying to tell you that you aren’t any better.”

Wooyoung chuckles, “Well aren’t we just perfect for each other then?”

You lean against the back of the couch as you watch him march around his house.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just work.. like try again.”

━━━━━━━━

“F-fuck, Wooyoung!”

You grip the back of his neck as he harshly thrusts into you. Your legs wrapped tightly around him as he fucked you into his mattress.

“Does he fuck you like this? Huh?” Wooyoung sits up, removing your hands from his neck and gripping your face with his own hand. “Answer me.”

“N-no, no, please!” You throw your head back at a particular thrust, clinging onto his forearms.

He groans as you clench around him, readjusting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“So pathetic— like I said.”

He pulls out, but before you could whine and whimper, he flips you over onto your hand and knees, smacking your ass before thrusting back into you.

Wooyoung groans and lets out breathy moans as he returns his brutal pace, muttering profanities and slight praises at you.

“Fuckk, taking me so good. Made for me to fuck you, right?” He smacks your ass again. “Should I record this? You look so- fuck.. You look so pretty. Gotta show him.”

You drop your face into the mattress, Wooyoungs words going in one ear out the other, too fucked out to pay attention.

“Whaddya think? Wanna let San see how good you’re taking my cock?”

Your eyes widen as you choke back a moan. Wooyoung chuckles from behind you, delivering another thrust that has you clenching and releasing around him.

“That make you cum?” He slows his thrusts down, but doesn’t stop once. “C’mon tell me— is he good? He fuck you like this, baby?”

Wooyoung starts to speed up again, drawing a whimper from your throat.

“Ah, pl- please, too much!”

“No, no, baby. Tell me everything.” He whines in your ear, mockingly. “Wanna hear how good my best friend fucks you.”

“N-not like you..” You whine.

Wooyoung lets out a low laugh, taking his fingers and wiping at the arousal and cum leaking down your thighs. He pulls you by your hair and taps his fingers at your mouth.

“He make you cum like this?” You submit once again and take his fingers in your mouth, sucking and lapping at your mixed juices on his fingers. He drops your hair and you catch yourself on the pillows.

“I'm sorry! I- "I'm sorry, ah, please!” You plead and beg with him as he thrusts into you at a brutal pace, tears lining your eyes.

“Awwe, you’re sorry? Wanna tell Sannie that you’re sorry too?” You almost miss the camera shutter click coming from his phone. “Should I send these to him? You look so pretty, my little whore.”

He tosses his phone to the side and grips your hips, tugging you back against him with every thrust. Wooyoung continued his pace as he chased his own high. You’re a trembling, crying mess as he finally cums inside of you, pulling out as he catches his breath.

Wooyoung rolls over to the side of you, running his hand through his sweaty hair and grabbing his phone with his other. He quickly taps away and throws it to the side again.

You slowly sit up, reaching over the bed to grab a shirt before Wooyoung stops you and tells you to wait. He comes back quickly and cleans you up just enough for you to rest without feeling like a puddle of body fluids, he leaves the room just as his phone lights up.

Suddenly you remember his remarks that he made as he pounded into you.

He knows about San.

You quickly grab your phone, seeing Sans's name pop up in Wooyoung notifications. You click the message without even thinking twice, gasping softly as you see a few photos of Wooyoung taking you from behind, covered in sweat and arousal.

You would get frustrated or embarrassed with the entire situation— considering your ex found out you were sleeping with his best friend. Especially right before seeing him. But San’s response only sent shivers down your body as your face started to heat up and your thighs clenched together.

taglist: @yourlocaljonghoe @304files (i know i dont have anything stating, but feel free to comment or send an ask for any taglists!)

(leaving his message up to ur sexy imaginations bc im gen thinking abt a woosan x reader next)

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 1

~~~

Author’s Note: I have barely been writing anything (I usually write for the Good Omens fandom) since I started playing BG3, but then a few days ago I felt compelled to start on *something* for this fandom that has completely taken over my mind. I usually post on AO3 but for some reason I wanted to post a first teaser-chapter here on Tumblr.

So here it is, my first (unbeta’d) venture into the BG3 fandom. I have no idea where this is going except that the endgame is a happy ending for Tav and Astarion.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (Mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking

Summary: You thought knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… Now you do.

~~~

You watch him laugh as Shadowheart leans closer to whisper something in his ear, and the unwarranted jealousy that has your chest aching leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He may be sharing your bed now and then, but you have no right to him. For all you know, he might be spending his other nights with each and everyone in your camp. And that is his prerogative; pretty words aside, Astarion has never promised you anything other than fantastic sex.

A bitter smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You are sure he thinks he has you wrapped around his finger. That he has convinced you that this means more to him than it actually does. The sigh leaves your lips before you can stop it, but it doesn’t really matter, because none of the others hear you, too busy listening to Gale regaling another story about his ex.

Annoyed with yourself you rise, an excuse prepared on your tongue in case anyone questions your departure from the merriment. The lie remains unspoken and you’re relieved when you can slink into the shadows unnoticed. Relieved, but also perhaps a bit sad. It’s funny, you’ve spent most of your life aiming for anonymity, to stay under the radar. The unexpected friendships you’ve made since the kidnapping has unravelled all of that. Have made you aware of the dark and empty space in your heart you’ve successfully ignored until now.

Except it isn’t empty anymore.

It happened gradually, and without your permission. A dashing pale rogue stealing your affection when you weren’t looking. Because yes, while you know that his only reason for talking his way into your bed was manipulation, he has unintentionally shown you glints of his real self during your time together. He’s a complicated mess, just like yourself, and you love him. Love everything about him, even though it hurts.

So maybe he has you wrapped around his finger after all, because if you had any sense, you would end this thing between you. You should, but you are a selfish being. One day Astarion will realise that he doesn’t need to use sex to feel safe with you, but until that day comes, you will greedily accept every scrap of attention he gives you.

“Pathetic.”

“Talking to yourself, darling? Or have you made another furry friend when I wasn’t looking?” Astarion gracefully — why is that even when he’s pleasantly drunk, the elf manages to appear graceful? — sits down next to you in the grass. “You already have three of them in the camp, surely that’s enough?”

“Three?” You try to gather your thoughts, but it’s difficult when he is this close to you. “Scratch, the owlbear cub, and…?”

“Halsin, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeat dumbly. True, the druid was in his bear form when you first met, but something in Astarion’s demeanour makes you suspect that that isn’t what he meant. Images of Astarion undressing Halsin floods your mind. Halsin is a handsome and powerful man, so it would make sense for Astarion to seduce him too. Just like he had with you.

“Why are we sitting here, by the way?” Astarion shifts to lean on one hand, his face tilted back to take in the full moon. “Wanted a more romantic setting than your tent this time, darling?”

Oh. So you are the chosen one for the night. You were certain it would be Shadowheart, considering.

“Are you alright, Tav?”

For a moment you let yourself believe that the hesitation you hear in his voice is founded on genuine concern. That he truly cares beyond the deep-seated need for self-preservation ingrained in him. But the illusion can only last so long. You know enough of his history not to hold his actions against him, but right now you’re not in a headspace to pretend that everything is fine. And yet, you try.

“Of course I am.” You hold back a flinch when you hear the acid lacing your words like a toxin. It gives too much away, so you do the only thing you can think of. Your hands are already grabbing fabric before you have finished your thought, pulling him closer before he has time to examine your statement too closely. Before he can figure out your lie.

The night air is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the hot mouth claiming yours. You might regret it tomorrow, but right now, this is exactly what you need. In Astarion’s arms, you can forget everything but him and what he gives you. Around other people he can seem petty and cruel, but when he’s with you like this… this is different.

Or least that’s what you tell yourself. You cling to the illusion that this is special, and you succeed — until you feel yourself leaning your head to the side, offering your neck.

Astarion doesn’t ask it of you, he never does. It’s always you that wordlessly gives him what you believe is what he truly wants.

And this time it reminds you that deep down, this is just a transactional act for Astarion. Nothing else. He doesn’t care about you, not really.

After you’re both sated, you drift off to sleep without meaning to. It has been a taxing day, both physically and mentally, and the last thing you see is Astarion looking down at you with an indiscernible expression in his red eyes. Almost as if you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. Except that doesn’t make any sense, because to you it feels like he saw right through you the first time you met.

Some time later, you’re vaguely aware of strong arms lifting you from the damp grass. You must’ve made some noise, because you feel a warm breath against your ear.

“Hush, my darling, you don’t want the others to wake up.”

Exhaustion drags you back under, and when you next wake up, you’re in your tent. Alone.

~~~

[spectersgf]

— beach getaway 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃

pairing: harvey specter x reader

summary: the ocean treated you almost as well as he did. almost.

warnings: very fluffy, sigh. my speciality.

wordcount: 1.2k

a/n: impulsive, silly, not planned or proofread. just wanted to write. just love the beach. just love harvey specter. listened to so much guilty as sin while writing. lord.

(if you want to be tagged in future fics or if you have any requests, let me know! for my other fics, here's my masterlist!)

“Hello, Mr. Specter,” you answered the phone after seeing your boyfriend’s caller ID and contact picture flash on your phone. 

“Hello, Mrs. Specter.” You could hear the playful glint he had in his eye through the sound of his voice. “See, that’s funny because we aren’t married yet.”

“You really are a chronic joke repeater, aren’t you?”

“You love me for it.” Harvey was right – you did love him despite his repeated jokes. He never failed to make you giggle with this joke structure and he knew it. Hence why he never let it go. 

“If you say so, Harvey. How was your day?” you asked, settling on your hotel couch with your freshly made coffee – dash of vanilla, the way Harvey made it for you. You set the mug down on the side table, finger tracing the rim as you listened to your lover’s comforting voice come through the speaker of your phone.

“Oh, y’know. Closed a huge client, saved the world, looked hot doing it.” You couldnt hold back your giggle at his comment. This was a common way for Harvey to respond to your questions about his day, never giving details in the first insance, but never missing a chance to stroke his own ego. “Missed you the whole time, though.”

There was a very common misconception about him – about him being cold and stonehearted. Harvey was one of the biggest softies you’d ever met; he had immediately taken to you when you met 2 years ago and made sure to look out for you, even if he would playfully give you shit. You considered yourself extremely lucky to be let in to his softest and most vulnerable side and you never took it for granted, always ensuring he knew how much you appreciated his trust, and how much it was reciprocated. 

“I missed me, too. And Mike and Donna and Rachel. Even Louis.” You were teasing him and he knew it. Harvey could take it just as much as he could dish it out and it made for a wonderful dynamic between the two of you.

“Yeah, whatever. What did you do today, hm?”  You pouted thinking back on your Harvey-less day, knowing that you had missed him, too. You let out a deep, overly dramatic sigh before responding.

“Oh, y’know. Had a hotel nap, went for a walk on the beach during the sunset, looked hot doing it.” You smiled as you recounted your day in the same style as he did, despite your lingering sadness that he hadn’t joined you on your four-day beach getaway. “Wish you could’ve joined me.” Your pout had returned and Harvey could hear it in your voice.

Just as you went to pick up your mug and take a sip of your coffee, you heard the FaceTime tone come from your phone. You eagerly accepted, bouncing slightly at the thought of seeing your love’s face appear on your screen despite it only being a day since you’d seen him last.

All of your sadness melted away the second you saw him. A bright smile appeared on both of your faces, starry eyed and cheeks slightly flushed. 

“God,” he mumbled, “you’re so pretty.” Harvey’s hushed words made your cheeks flush deeper and you hid your face behind your coffee mug. “Don’t hide from me, pretty girl. The ocean has treated you so well already.”

He was right. You lived and worked in the city, but you needed a beachy getaway to keep you sane and happy. 

“The ocean treats me almost as well as you do,” you whispered, stroking your phone screen with a feather-light touch, heart hurting at the sight of your lover. He smiled in response but didn’t say anything. Harvey was notoriously bad at accepting compliments like this – one’s that complimented his vulnerable and soft side rather than the normal things like his looks or work ethic. “I wish you could’ve come with me. I miss you.”

“I know, baby. I miss you, too. But it won’t be long before you’re with me again, and we’ll do the next one together, abroad somewhere. Okay?”

You nodded your reply, nervous to speak from the threat of your tears falling in front of Harvey. You weren’t sure what had you so emotional, and you could see that it was upsetting Harvey to see you in this way.

“Will you at least stay while I get ready for bed?” You were speaking quietly, needlessly worried he’d reject your idea, craving his presence in your space and his arms around your frame.

“Of course I will. Always do.”

You busied yourself with putting your mug away and brushing your teeth to get ready for bed, you and Harvey engaging in a light and meaningless conversation. He kept joking with you and flirting with you as if you weren’t his long-term partner, and you welcomed the distraction. When you finally got into bed and tucked yourself in, Harvey had done the same. You both stayed on the phone with each other in your sleep, trying to mimic being in the same bed, even though you most certainly weren’t.

───────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────

You were woken up by a firm knock on your hotel room door. The light was cracking in through the curtains and when you checked your phone, the time read 10:43am. You always allowed yourself a lie in when you weren’t in the city, and today was no different. You padded across to the door and checked the peephole, wanting to see who was at your door before you opened it. To your dismay, the person on the other side of the door had covered the peephole; you reluctantly opened the door, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

You heard his voice before you clocked that he was in your doorway. “Good morning, sleepyhead. Did someone ask for a wake-up call?” 

Harvey was in your hotel. At your door. Holding an overnight bag and his signature cheeky smile. Your heart swelled with joy and you immediately jumped into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, tears prickling at your eyes. 

“You’re here, why are you here, what are you doing here?” Your words were rushed and joined together frantically, eager to understand how your boyfriend was in your beachside hotel rather than his New York City corner office. 

“I missed you, you missed me. Here I am.” He was holding you up with one hand, the other hand in your hair and his bag dropped onto the floor.

You tucked your face into his neck, kissing the skin there lightly, your hand tangled in his hair. “I can’t believe you’re really here,” you whispered, scared to speak any louder in case he evaporated away and this moment was exposed as a dream.

He pulled your head gently out from it’s spot resting on his shoulder, stroking your cheek and still holding you close to him. He leaned in to you, kissing you soft and gentle, as if you’d break right there in his hands. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead on yours, still stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Believe it. You needed me, here I am. Now let me in and let’s go back to bad.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

if you enjoyed, feel free to comment/reblog and send in requests! my asks are open! or send me a message! ok ily bye!

taglist: @shadowinthedarkknight @strawberriesareprettycool

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

It Was His Year

Day #21 - Hate This Town | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Slightly Graphic Imagery, Blood, Injuries | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Steddie (If You Squint) | Tags: Missing Scene S4 Finale, Evacuation, Canon Divergence, Eddie Munson Lives

Gareth runs out to his mom's minivan, carrying another load, and his hand hurts, even with his fingers taped together. At least one is broken, he's certain. Fucking Jason Carver.

The town has cracked wide open and everyone is panicking. Fleeing. Packing their cars, ready to haul ass out of this godforsaken place. Goodie and Jeff are helping load up his drums, and what gear they have between the four of them.

But Eddie is nowhere to be found.

Hasn't been around for days, and Gareth's worried. Something's going on, something more than an earthquake. Something more than an evacuation. He gets that Eddie's been hiding out, and for good reason, but this isn't just about that. Can't be. 

Eddie wouldn't have hurt Chrissy Cunningham. Not a chance in hell. Eddie's mouth runs a good game, but Gareth knows him. Really knows him. And Eddie was ready to finally get out of this sorry fucking town. Graduate.

It was his year.

And now he's missing, and the fucking Scooby Gang that is always somehow in the middle of every disaster that befalls Hawkins, are missing, too. 

Dustin Henderson is never this quiet. Something's up. 

Something big. 

A couple miles outside of town, Gareth slams on the brakes, and Goodie braces himself against the dash, "What? What is it?"

"Steve Harrington," Gareth says, because that was Steve Harrington's BMW hauling fucking ass in the opposite direction, towards town.

"So?" Goodie says.

"That wasn't Steve Harrington driving. That was Nancy Wheeler," Gareth says, starting to make a three-point turn in the middle of the highway, getting honked at by everyone behind him. He throws his hand out the window, flipping them off, then follows the BMW as it barrels back towards town. 

"No, no. Over my dead body. We're not going back. Tell me you're joking? The streets are caved in," Goodie says, looking for back-up from Jeff.

"Gareth, maybe we shouldn't-" Jeff tries.

But it's too late, he's giving chase. If anyone knows where Eddie is, it's that group, Gareth's sure of it.

After dodging streets that don't exist anymore, he sees Steve's car parked under the awning of the already bustling emergency room. Gareth gets out of the driver's seat, and looks over at the group that's surrounding the familiar car. They seem to be in costumes, like they went and raided The War Zone outside of town. Robin Buckley is standing there as Dustin is fucking bawling, holding onto the open door of the car. 

And Nancy Wheeler? She's absolutely screaming, arms waving, pointing. Barking orders to an already overwhelmed staff. 

That leaves Steve Harrington, and Gareth can see the soles of his boots as he's in the backseat of his own car, on top of Eddie, as Eddie's limp, boot-covered foot hangs out of the vehicle. The leather upper torn, shredded to the bone. 

What could even do that? What the fuck has happened here?

Gareth runs to the other door, the still closed one, and when he opens it, Steve barely looks up at him, doing chest compressions, breathing for Eddie.

Steve looks feral. Soaked with blood, smelling of kerosene and fire.

Death.

Eddie's neck is bandaged, his cheek, and Steve drags Gareth's hands to Eddie's neck, pressing them down. Gareth puts pressure, while Jeff hovers behind him. Goodie nowhere to be seen.

Gareth holds on tight, but he thinks Eddie's dead. He's not sure there's anything he, or Steve Harrington, can do about that. 

But Steve keeps working, arms pumping against Eddie's ribcage, and Gareth tries not to cry. 

He's in a daze, when he realizes Goodie is standing behind him, with his dad. Dr. Goodwin. Of course. He's not the kind of doctor Eddie needs, not by a long shot, but maybe he can get him into the right hands.

"What did you kids do?" Dr. Goodwin asks, but there's no answer to that. Between all of them, they're able to get Eddie pulled out of the backseat, and loaded up onto the gurney.

Steve Harrington bullies his way beyond the staff only doors, and Gareth doesn't understand why, as he stands there, the doors gently swinging, as Eddie's taken away.

Jeff is scrubbing Gareth's hands at the public bathroom sink, and Goodie is wiping at his neck where Eddie's bloody hair rubbed against his face when he helped pull him out of the car. His bandana is in Gareth's pocket now, soaked in red. This is fucked. It's all so fucked.

"What happened? It looked like he'd been attacked by an animal," Gareth mutters, "Did Carver do this?"

"I don't know," Jeff says, and yeah, Gareth thinks, none of them know anything. Not anymore.

By early morning, Eddie is hooked up to machines and tubes, and Steve Harrington is sitting at his bedside like a guard dog, still filthy. Still itching for a fight.

"We're his friends. His band. Corroded Coffin? Hellfire Club? With Dustin?" Gareth tries. Steve Harrington doesn't look well, he's glassy-eyed and pale. He has one dirty hand on Eddie's bedrail. Gripping tight.

"We can stay with him, you could go change clothes. Take a shower? See a doctor yourself?" Gareth offers, because Steve Harrington is sweating, and looks like he can barely sit, let alone stand. 

And then Robin Buckley is here, fussing, calling him a dingus and leading him to the sink in the corner of the room. Lifting his shirt.

Jesus H. Christ.

"Oh shit," Gareth says, seeing the angry, weeping wounds on Steve's sides. At the rope burn around his neck. "Goodie. Maybe get your dad again."

It takes weeks, more than a month, and they all take turns sitting with Eddie, before Eddie finally opens his eyes and blinks, looking around. It's a full-house.

Gareth leans over him from one side, Steve from the other, "Eddie? Are you okay? What year is it?" Gareth asks.

Eddie coughs, but smirks, ever so slightly. Voice hoarse from disuse, "It's '86, baby. I told you this was my year."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[chairofchaos]

You Deserve Better, and Other Points for Reflection

Hey friends, listen up. Real talk for a second, because nobody deserves this. And, in case anybody cares, I want you to know I come with 12 years of learning on this exact debate we have been having, because I had some very excellent fandom mentors in my communities and in the form of my uncles, who to this day support me writing and reading whatever hell I please, even in the face of protest from my immediate family. There was a lot of learning I had to do to be here with you now, and I am thankful for those people who were willing to tell me so.

If you want to post memes and think pieces and jokes and poems about a fandom debate, go ahead! You create the experience you want to see on your dash, and you will find your people.

If you want to discuss a fandom debate (a little or a lot), go ahead! I’m all for thinking through how we live and act and exist as a fan community.

If you feel that you need to take those things and turn them into vitriol to pour into the DMs and Anons of people who are running a fan week, that is not okay. Not in the slightest.

There is a big difference between debate, discussion, creative protest, and joking around, and intentionally using your words to create harm in someone’s life.

“But, Chaos, this [thing not directly sent to you/not specifically intended for you] hurt my feelings!”

Okay. Get burned once? Great! You learned something: don’t touch the hot iron again. (To translate: block the tag, block the person, whatever you need, and move on. If it isn’t for you that’s ok.) Hurt feelings are to tell you what you can and/or are willing to handle. If you don’t want to see it, block. (I love blocking tags it’s one of my little joys in life lol)

“Chaos, somebody said something really rude to me to my (virtual) face! What do I do?”

Well, you can either respond or you can block. Either way, it will probably help you to move on.

If you are responding, I beg you to keep one thing in mind. I want you to picture 7 year old you at the other end of that message. Or 13 year old you. What kind of words did they deserve to hear in a moment when maybe they weren’t getting something? Use those. Use them kindly, not in a condescending way, but in a “I want to explain this as gently as I would to my younger self” kind of way. If somebody keeps being mean, it isn’t worth it. Please use the block feature and move on. They are not worth your time.

Additionally, I would encourage you to do this: the “touch grass” mentality is something I only direct at myself. (I literally told myself to go touch grass yesterday, and there is at least one person who can corroborate that.) I stand by that decision every single day. It’s kept me out of a lot of trouble. Directing it at others does not end well, but directing it at yourself can be a good way to reflect and to consider sensible actions in the face of overwhelming situations or emotions (of which I experience many).

“Chaos, people are coming into anon and being hateful. Or just rude. Or they’re dumping triggering material into my anons.”

That is on them. That is not on you. They should not do that. And I am so sorry you are dealing with that. I’m going to be honest, I don’t know if you can block from anons (I’ve never even needed to look and so help you all if this is the post that makes me) but if you can, do. I will do what I can to help, if you need it. Regardless of where you stand on any of these issues, because I will not stand for hatred.

“I’m mad about [redacted] and I am going to be rude/mean/intentionally putting triggering material in people’s inboxes and activity feeds!”

You do that and you will be in a world of hurt, my friend. A world of hurt from yourself.

Because we create the experience we think we deserve. If you create an internet experience where it is acceptable to be hateful, vengeful, and downright cruel to other people, that is the experience you will receive in return. You deserve better than that. And if you believe that you deserve better than that but the people you’re directing cruelty towards don’t, then I want you to hear me: you will quickly find that you are not welcome anywhere. There will always be someone to disagree with. There will always be (at least) minute discrepancies in the way two or more people think, even people who are deeply similar.

Hurt the hand that reaches to help you- one day it will be raised against you in hurt as well.

As for me? Well, for that, I leave you with thoughts from George Washington’s Farewell address as paraphrased in Hamilton’s ‘One Last Time’:

“Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors.”

I am not a president (and thank god for that because who wants Chaos in charge of a country?). I am simply a fandom member. A writer. A little chaos gremlin lurking behind trees in the forest.

But like Mr. Washington, I am aware that I often fail to live up to my standards and principles. And I hope, truly, though it is wildly uncomfortable for me, that you would call me out for ways I have failed to uphold them, either in the past or in the future. (It would be super great if you like… called me out in DMs and didn’t put me on blast but oh well.)

I am in at least four other major (international, GIANT) fandoms. I am not hopeful enough to think that the ACOTAR fandom will learn from the fandoms of yore. We will have to weather these storms on our own, even with the knowledge and experiences already there. I think that’s okay. Disappointing, perhaps, but okay.

Since this post was much longer than it was intended to be, I will summarize:

If you are intentionally putting hateful materials in the inboxes, DMs, and activity feeds of people you disagree with, you will hurt yourself.

You create the experience you think you deserve, and in doing so, create that experience for others. Good or bad.

Block tags, block blogs, block what you need to enjoy the space. You will find your people.

Being intentionally cruel to other human persons is how you end up finding that nobody is “your people” because you created an environment where no one wants to be. You will be lonely and sad. Don’t make yourself lonely and sad.

I am certain I fail to uphold these principles at times. Feel free to call me out if you see me failing at these. DM appreciated, but I’m the one who invited you to do so so I’m not going to say “don’t blast me on main.” My funeral, I know.

[skyfallscotland]

@heartfeltletters-written asked me 💥 How do you feel about criticism? and it felt like something that needed its own post, so here goes: the hypocrisy of critics in modern fandoms, an essay.

Criticism. I don't like getting it or giving it when it comes to writing. I struggle to even gently give it to friends, even when they ask me what I think of their work. Writing is such a personal thing that we pour our heart and soul into and like you say, many criticisms aren't necessarily valid. By that I mean, there's a difference between "Amy you use em dashes a lot babe" (I do) and "This story would have been so much better if Remi were a virgin" (actual criticism I have received, lmao). 

Unlike traditional authors, we will never make money from this, we do it for the love of it and it's time we will never get back. For some of us, it's time we could be working on our own original manuscripts too. I don't think people who give the second type of criticism are writers, generally. They don't understand the craft and what goes into it. Whenever I post and someone says a chapter was short or they immediately ask when the next one is, and that's all they say, I die inside a little. I try not to take it personally, but it's hard.

Personally, I think fandom behaviour is getting worse and that flows over into our comment sections and tumblr asks. I have a whole other dissertation on this that we’ll call ‘the slow death of fandom as we know it: an essay’, but that’s perhaps for another post. I don’t know how welcomed that commentary would be. 

You said the word ‘entitled’ in your original ask and I think that’s spot on. People have become more entitled in general and downright rude (which is not restricted to online spaces, by the way). I write for ACOTAR, but you’ve never seen me discuss it here because no matter what you say in that regard, you can’t win. Someone will always attack you and I do mean attack. Even in regards to Fourth Wing, I don't talk about my opinions a lot outside of my own little bubble of friends and readers.

And that's the kicker to this whole conversation, really. If I were to criticise Iron Flame/RY everyone would jump down my throat (as has happened on other platforms), even though I'd never say it to her face. Do I stand by my opinions? Absolutely. But it would be rude to tell her them, unless asked. I’m not allowed to (validly) criticise certain elements of her story, a published novel, without being attacked for it, but those same people are fine criticising my work directly to me. Hypocrisy at its finest.

There’s a new influx of people to fandom spaces who are completely unwilling to integrate and completely unwilling to be kind. You mentioned those who criticised your work could have saved themselves the trouble and read the tags, but the thing is: they don’t want to. They can’t be bothered to take five seconds and figure out how they work, to curate their own experience, because that’s what half these people are like. They want an algorithm to do it for them, gods help us.

For me, personally, I'm my biggest critic. I also have raging generalised anxiety, so just posting on the internet is enough to send me spiralling (seriously, I feel sick just typing this out). It's very, very out of my comfort zone and I've been very, very lucky so far to have cultivated the readership I have, full of very like-minded people. Perhaps due to some of the darker content matter. But the second I get harshly worded comments, I get upset.

I don't say that to elicit sympathy, it's just a fact. I get upset about it the same way I would if you were standing in front of me saying it to my face, and for someone with depression and anxiety, that lingers. I'm getting better at laughing at them, but it's like when someone tells you they don't like you and your mum says "just ignore them"—not that easy, right? 

So yeah, I don't mind if you want to tell me I use a lot of em dashes, or that I've used a word incorrectly in context, but I don't need to hear how much you hate original character fic when you could just use your last remaining braincell the back button and continue on with your day. Just be kind, is all I'm saying.

[heloflor]

So this was supposed to be part of my other fop post but it got way too long (both posts did tbh) and is a different topic than the other one. So yeah here’s a bunch of random thoughts about the show in general from what I’ve seen of it. For context I’ve only seen the first 4-5 episodes + “Battle of the Dimmsonian” + the Cosmo-Wanda-Peri scenes in “Lost in Fairy World” and “Operation: Birthday Takeback”.

SPOILERS for “Operation: Birthday Takeback” for the last three dashes (2.4k words below):

- Putting it in first since it’s still related to Peri but I’m pretty amused by the whole “Tumblr sexyman” situation. I mean, less than two weeks ago all canon pics we had of him were baby pics. It’s the same deal when I see people call him a father figure to Dev, I can’t help but be like “wdym father figure? He’s barely an adult! He’s too young!”

It’s like imagine you have a neighbor who have a baby when you’re 9-10, then they move out and 20 years later you meet their kid as an adult. You can clearly tell they’re an adult and treat them as such but also it’s a bit weird bc your last and only memories of them were of a baby. Idk, I see Peri’s character as an adult but also he’s still a bit of a kid, you know? I feel like I explain this better in the other post tbh.

- In retrospect it’s also very funny to see how, when people talk about the decline of fop, they point at the inclusion of the new characters, including Poof. Yet look where we are now! If you thought the baby was the problem, apologize to him, now! /j

But yeah more seriously, personally I never minded Poof. He was definitely a useless addition, like outside of the handful of episodes focused on him he mostly just stands there looking at the other characters, but he was also a cute baby, so I’ve always been fine with him being around. He’s a useless but inoffensive addition, and I think the decline of the show around that time had less to do with him and more to do with the writing as a whole.

- Last thing about Peri before moving on to the show in general, which tbh I could've put in the other post: I've seen people talk about the idea of Hazel and Dev switching fairies and I kind of agree with it.

Not only because Cosmo and Wanda have the experience needed to help a kid like Dev (though it wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows) while Hazel's situation is easier for Peri, but also it's worth noting that Dev needs a parental figure, which Cosmo and Wanda can be, while Hazel misses her older brother, who Peri is around the same age of. Idk, I feel like this could work, or at least make things easier for everyone involved (but also especially for Dev).

- Something I originally wanted to put in the tags of the other post but fuck it: I’m really not a fan of them releasing the episodes so soon one after the other. With serialized shows, I’m always been more of a fan of having an episode a week you can chew on and theorize about, rather than being given everything at once. Also it takes a while for the cargo to get on the ships if you catch my drift.

I’d also complain about seeing all those plot-related episodes one after the other with none of the more casual stories in-between that give us more character moments, but honestly that’s on me for looking up spoilers.

- Going to the early show, I think the first episode is such a good introduction! I especially like the amount of focus on Cosmo and Wanda, it’s good to have them reintroduced given how flanderized they became in the og show. I’m especially happy with Cosmo! He arguably had it worse than Wanda in the og and it’s so good to see him shine this much in this first episode (also I love his human form having a bit of a gut)! On that note, they did a fantastic job having them around a lot while still giving Hazel enough time to be introduced properly and get us to care about her as the MC!

But yeah I really like this first episode, fantastic beginning to the show! The only issue I “really” have with it is the way Cosmo and Wanda go back to being godparents just because Hazel made a strong enough wish or something, it felt a bit arbitrary rather than them just telling her who they are.

And on that note, big fan of that one scene where they immediately notice her trying to run away and try to talk her out of it. I love the contrast between them starting off as disasters being barely capable of passing off as humans at the beginning of the episode, and them being perfectly in their element the second they start talking to Hazel about her running away in this scene. It’s such a good way to see how much experience they have with taking care of kids!

- I’m not going to go episode by episode but one thing that bothers me a lot in the second one is that rule of “kids should get whatever they wish for”. Doesn’t that...go against the whole concept of having rules in the first place???

They should’ve replaced it with something along the lines of “a kid should always get the fairy that fits them the best”, not only bc it would work perfectly well for the episode, but also from what I’ve heard Foop (now Irep) is coming back and I could 100% see him use that rule to his advantage given Peri and Dev were such a bad match (I’m guessing anti-fairies don’t actually follow Da Rules but maybe they could still use it as an excuse regardless since fairies do have to follow them or something?)

- Call we talk about the fact Hazel is clearly autistic? Like is this a canon thing in the show? Are there people out there talking about it? No because seriously:

The fidget toys (Cosmo and Wanda’s disguises), her special interest for rocks, her anxiety over making new friends which is reinforced as uncommon when that one girl she befriends comments on how easy and not scary it is to approach other people (also Hazel’s “what am I supposed to talk about with them? School lunches?” comment in the teachers friend episode), her liking for fries which could be seen as her being potentially picky (bit of a stretch tho), her comment about liking the DMV if only for the reaction she gets that makes her seem “different”, her struggles to come up with a wish on the fly with minimal/vague instructions (episode 2), her character arc throughout the show apparently having to do with her not wanting things to change (me too girl), her being considered mature for her age, the angry outbursts when things don’t go how she hoped, pretty sure there’s also a lot of stimming that I have yet to pick up on (see if any of them repeat often). Like, there’s no way ALL of that was a coincidence!

I’d also like to mention at the beginning of the Dino episode, when her dad is explaining things to her, he starts talking louder and louder in excitement until his wife tells him to quiet down. Makes me think her dad’s likely neurodivergent as well. Also this moment hurts my soul a bit, as someone who’s both been on the receiving end of it and done it to someone else, in both cases it sucks.: /

- Took me until like episode 4 to realize the town she lives in is named after the Dimmadomes, with the hat in it (the very first shot of the intro). Also you can see their infinite house in the background, both in that shot and the show in general, and I absolutely adore that they committed so hard to this joke! That giant ambiguously-shaped-like-a-hat skyscraper that we never see the top of is just *chief kiss*.

- On that note Dev’s introduction in the first episode made me laugh, if only for the references. I also find it kinda funny he has such a big speaking role considering he doesn’t do anything for the rest of the pilot and the next few episodes. Then again I guess it’s in character for him to make such a show of introducing himself.

- Still on general stuff, I’m a bit curious about how the timeline went in regards to Cosmo and Wanda retiring and going on vacation “right after” Timmy (iirc they don’t voice it like that in the show). Like I’m having a hard time believing they would just ditch their then-child son to go on vacation, and then come back when he’s an adult. So I ended up having a bunch of headcanons.

Basically, after leaving Timmy they do take what was supposed to be a short leave to think of their future since it feels strange to get a new kid after so long with the same one + I like the idea that Cosmo and Wanda’s marriage did suffer while living with Timmy and they want to work on it before getting a new kid (the whole thing about them feeling confined, made worse if the “stopping time for 50 years” wish is canon) + Poof/Peri is struggling with the reality of having to leave Timmy behind and is nervous about his parents having a new godkid because of it.

Eventually they decide to retire, got to marriage counseling, possibly get Poof/Peri into therapy, and raise their son until he’s an older teen/young adult, at which point they leave for their vacation. And while the vacation is 10 thousand years for them, it’s like, 5 years at max in their present. And in that meantime, Peri starts his godparents studies (or however it works), leaves the house and changes his name.

Btw Cosmo and Wanda would 100% invite him to the vacation, he’d just refuse in a mix between wanting to be away from his parents for once, wanting to maybe surprise them a bit with his work and/or just get started with work, and not knowing how long the vacation would be. He’d also probably tell them to just use this time as some new honeymoon to finish rebuilding their marriage (though by that point it must’ve gone back to being strong). Oh and Cosmo and Wanda would send Peri postcards every so often, which would also let him know how long they’ve been gone.

Once they come back from vacation, I’d imagine there’s like less than a month between them “moving to the human world” and meeting Hazel, hence why they didn’t reconnect with Peri. They didn’t really know how to contact him and were busy with the move, and afterwards they had a godkid to take care of so they couldn’t exactly go back to Fairyworld.

As for Peri, he hears through the gravepine that his parents are back, and would be happy until he realizes they’ve been gone for 10 thousand years, hence him freaking out about meeting them again (he doesn’t know how much they might’ve changed with how long it’s been). Also he can’t contact them bc he’d hear about them coming back due to them taking in Hazel, meaning they’re in the human world and he doesn’t know where. Also he might be intimidated to contact them, which doesn’t help his decision-making.

So yeah, that’s all for how I could imagine this whole vacation thing going and how it fits with them having a child.

- Since I’m talking about Cosmo and Wanda’s marriage, I’ve heard about the whole “they fixed their marriage” before watching the show and oh my god I can’t get over how fucking adorable those two are in this show!!! I fucking love them.

- And on that note I’m incredibly amused that this show had the balls to reference the mpreg. Twice. Especially since it doesn’t even specify the whole “that’s just how fairies work”! In the eyes of people who never watched the og show, “A New Wish” just casually dropped the fact that Cosmo’s a trans man (bc let’s be real, how else are you supposed to interpret those lines if you haven’t watched the og show?) or you get the vibe that the writers wanted to make him trans (+ Wanda by proxy since she’s Peri’s bio mom) but weren’t allowed so that’s how they got past the censors.

And I love this because you just know Hartman would be furious about it! With our current society more aware of trans people and how men can in fact get pregnant, I could definitely see him sweep the whole mpreg thing under the rug, hoping people would forget about his “”accidentally-progressive”” (and also very sexist 😒) episode, but nope! New show said Cosmo was pregnant and gave birth! And better yet it didn’t even elaborate further! It just goes “btw this guy has an uterus and was once pregnant, here’s his bio child if you need more proof” and then walks on like nothing happened, I love it!

- Going back to the episodes talk for the last three dashes, there’s that shot at the very end of “Operation: Birthday Takeback” that I really dislike. It’s the one when Dev lashes out on Peri, with him hovering over Peri who’s laying on the ground in fear.

Really not a big fan of this shot bc 1. It makes Dev look way too much like a villain, especially with the way Peri’s laying like a servant that gets beaten up, and 2. Peri, honey, you’re a grown ass man; why are you so scared of that 10 years old scarred kid that’s lashing out while in a very vulnerable mental state? What are you doing on the ground buddy? I’m not asking for him to fight back but at least stand up! Don’t act like that kid can actually hurt you! Btw I’m completely fine with Peri afterwards looking like a dejected puppy (after Dev makes his wish), it’s just that one shot with him on the ground that I dislike.

- Obviously I’m genuinely curious to see how things are going to go in the next episodes (which apparently air tonight?). Like obviously Dev is going to spiral but if you have a scene at school how will it go? How will Hazel feel about the whole thing? What about Peri? Is he going to be gone for a few episodes? Be a temporary third fairy to Hazel? Crash at Cosmo and Wanda’s for a while?

(Personally I’m hoping for the third option, it would be a good way to still give him appearances to show the main plot’s still going without giving him to much screentime, which could take away from Hazel. Also given how much he wants to appear independent, I don’t see him being a third fairy to her, though I think he’d be ok with staying at his parents for a bit, if only for emotional support (though tbh I doubt they’ll do that, most likely he’ll be doing his own thing off-screen for an episode or two). Also I want to see a “human” design for him)

OK so I wrote this yesterday before the Irep episode came out, so on one hand nevermind all that but on the other hand I’m letting it in bc I AM curious as to how things are going to evolve with our main cast, especially with Dev spiraling and pushing both his bestie and fairy away.

- Btw is nobody going to talk about how Vicky’s dress might be a reference to one of the “Oh Yeah” shorts?

- VERY LAST SECOND ADDITION, SPOILERS FOR IREP: So yesterday before I finished both this and the other post the new episodes dropped, with a few clips shared on Tumblr. And OH MY GOD IREP’S DESIGN!!! The fact that they kept him as a cube makes me so happy!!! I was HOPING at least ONE part of him would be a cube and they delivered!!! He looks like absolulte dogshit I love it!!! Bc yeah for some reason I remember Foop as a character you’re not supposed to take seriously at all? And as a result I really like how stupid Irep looks. A+ design right there! /gen

[dottores]

okay well, i logged back in, obviously, because there are clearly some things that need to be addressed and have been taken out of context. just because i’m leaving doesn’t mean i should sit here and let my name be smeared. 

to preface this, anantaru and i had a discussion where we came to a congenial understanding of what happened, there's been an acknowledgment on both sides of misunderstanding and believing distorted rumors and people that we probably should not have, but i’m still going to give a full explanation as to the background of everything so you all can understand and come to your own opinions. plus, if there's going to be a call-out post directed majorly at me made, i want an official address of it.

please do NOT send any hate their way, we have ended this discussion on good terms and have worked out what exactly was stirring this discourse between us. (spoiler alert: there was a third-party shit-stirrer that we both considered a decent friend at the time!)

i don’t really need a reason to block someone, and i shouldn’t have to explain it, but i did and i will again but more explicitly this time: @/anantaru made a post that i did not like. it’s as simple as that. it was a post about genshin characters and sex icks and one of the lines were “venti: too drunk.” i’m not anti-dc, but there are topics that i am sensitive about because i was sa’d in my freshman year of college—that is something i have talked about on this blog before, many of you who've been around since my tr era are aware of it. i acknowledged, and tee acknowledged, that this was probably a joke and was not meant to be taken the way i took it, but the aloof/casual way it was mentioned without any TW of implied dubcon, and without acknowledging that it was at least dubcon and could border on noncon in certain interpretations made me uncomfortable. i don’t mind seeing it as long as i’m warned. if it was tagged properly, i would have moved on without much care, but it wasn’t, so i was scrolling through the post snorting and was hit with that and i was made uncomfortable because i didn't like how it was just being passed off as an ick, and i blocked. there was no reason for it to go beyond what it did, yet we are here. anantaru mentioned that if you frequent their blog, you would know that they often write about venti and reader being drunk—i don’t frequent their blog, in fact this was my first encounter with them being reblogged onto my dash by shared mutuals, so it rubbed me wrong. thats the end of it. 

i’m not sure the exact timing, but i believe it was two(?) weeks after this, when i reblogged an unpopular opinion’s post with an opinion that i thought was fairly harmless. sure, looking back on it i could have phrased it better, i’m not going to deny that, but pinpointing my one opinion out of the hundreds of others that were objectively far more controversial than mine and crucifying me for it is uncalled for. you guys know very well that i do not have the time or energy to sift through random people’s blogs to look for minors. every once in a while i glance at the notes of shit posts that happen to be on my dash and i’d be a bit startled at finding a minor in them because i still do think you should at least try to catch minors who interact with shit posts because that’s the easiest way to find them. but i was working at a medium sized firm for a year and a half at the time of the post and i am currently in law school, i do not have the time to be psychotic about people’s likes and interaction, and even if i did have the time?? i’ve always gotten incredible interaction from y’all lmfao, imposing the idea that i’m jealous is entirely inane. i do still stand by the fact that my words were twisted, i was made out, more than once and by more than one person after the next bullet point's events, to have been some psycho that stalks peoples’ posts for excuses as to why they get interaction when that is simply not the case. 

regardless, after this incident, anantaru made a vague post that was almost directly quoting my tags from the reblog and was thus sent to me because many shared mutuals put together that it was about my tags. this was upsetting for multiple reasons 1) i had blocked anantaru by this point so i felt a bit violated that i was being vagued for something by someone that i blocked. 2) i started getting hate anons en masse after it, some of which were very unnecessarily explicit. needless to say, i was very upset and made a subpost on my main account after noticing i’ve been blocked on ao3 because 1) i was already upset and i didn’t even know why anantaru seemed to have it out for me much less go to the point of blocking on ao3 which leads into my next point and 2) i thought it was a bit ridiculous because the only thing blocking on ao3 stops is people from commenting on posts and i clearly was not going to comment on a post of someone who i was not on good terms with. reasoning aside, anantaru can block who they want and i was out of line for making comments about that in particular. i’ll admit that, and apologize for it. 

a screenshot was taken from my personal—not a good moment for me, obviously, but anantaru claimed in their post that it was about them with no evidence. i dmed them about this in particular because i was genuinely confused, we spoke about it, i offered them proof that it was not them because i had a discussion about this post with a close friend at the time of posting it and they believed me. i will attach screenshots below (cropped because there's no reason to attach the whole conversation) because i feel as if this accusation was rather extreme and i wish it would’ve been removed because it was obviously not my best moment. an explanation for the post itself, i was upset over plagiarism accusations regarding something i put my heart and soul into and then seeing the same person that made them consistently on my dash just straight up triggered me, for lack of a better word lol, so i made a vent on my personal. how it got misconstrued as to be anything about anantaru is baffling to me but i suppose that's a question for the subject of our next bullet point. i don’t want to go into detail about the accusations in themselves because i don’t want people to send the actual person who it’s about hate. regardless, that post was not about anantaru, i have never called them a cunt nor have i ever called them a gatekeepy cunt, though i’m beginning to think i should probably remove the word from my vocabulary atp, i use it far too flippantly. anyway, i do not know them well enough to formulate any sort of opinion like that. aside from that, in our discussion we came to an understanding over it and i wish that would have been cleared on their blog as wel. so i'll attach here (i crossed some out because i don't want to breach any boundaries regarding what anantaru might be comfortable sharing but i do think it's fair for me to want this particular point fully cleared as it was a bold accusation remaining up):

5. in our discussion, we came to realize that we have/had a shared mutual who was fostering discourse between the two of us. many of you will recognize her as audri aka alucrds, who has supposedly left tumblr by this point—i suspected this and anantaru has confirmed it while we were talking. audri was sending anantaru my posts claiming that they were about anantaru, but i will stress that the only actual discussions i ever had with anyone about anantaru was with tee and eris about that initial joke because it had upset me at the time, it never extended beyond that and it certainly was never with audri. my only conversation with audri that mentioned anantaru at all was probably around a week or so after i made the post in point 3, when audri asked me about ao3 blocking in casual conversation and i offhandedly mentioned that anantaru had blocked me on there—audri was a close friend at that point and iirc, she had actually told me right after that that anantaru had her blocked on tumblr, i had no idea that they'd been mutuals at all but either way, it was an offhanded comment that led to nowhere (or so i thought LOL). looking back on it, it was clearly her baiting me into giving her information about the post i made a week or so prior because after talking with anantaru, they explained that they got an anonymous message claiming that i was shit talking them for blocking them on ao3 and the only person that could have put together that the vent post from point 3 was about anantaru was audri herself. audri continued to evidently cherry-pick random vent posts of mine to show anantaru and claim that they were about them. why? i wish i could tell you. i considered audri a decent enough friend, and though she had her fair share of issues with mutuals and other friends of mine, i never really thought she’d stoop to this with me. but i guess there’s really no explaining people who thrive in discourse.

6. my comment in my most recent post about being harassed on ao3 and in comments and in asks was not about them at all. i thought it was very clearly about heliotropes (my dottore series) and pressure to update from certain readers, but i'm clarifying that now.

7. i never intended on directly addressing this, which is why i did not directly name anantaru in my post, if i’d known at the time that tee was going to end up addressing all of this, i would’ve just been straight up with all of it.

anyway, i think that’s all, hopefully this will be the last post for real as i am tired mentally and now i am also physically sleep deprived. i've been up since three so forgive me for typos and grammar errors. this all has gone on for over a year. sorry for all the discourse on y'all's dash, wish i could have left with a bit more grace than this. rumors have been blown out of proportions and blindly believed, things have been taken out of context, such is life. i made my fair share of mistakes on my personal blog with my vents, others have admitted and owned up to their own mistakes, some will never admit to their mistakes. such is life. it moves on, always does. i know all of y'all are smart enough to come to your own opinions.

over and out, sorry again, and logged out (hopefully for real this time),

cat

[headspace-hotel]

I'm probably gonna regret attaching my name to this but I slept on it and I'm still really upset but now more coherent (so please delete this if it's unwelcome).

First of all I'm really sorry you're dealing w this shit. I hope you're taking care of yourself rn.

Second of all.... holy fuck Inneskeeper has handled this horribly. I'm trying to extend the benefit of the doubt and say he just needs time, we all do, but it's very hard when he's been acting as though a day is enough time for everyone to get over the fear he spread.

It's really upsetting to see him bring up both his schizophrenia and his career as reasons why he was upset without ever actually uttering the words "I'm sorry, I was wrong." without needing to read between the lines.

It's a really concerning trend I've noticed reappearing now that actual celebrities and just plain old popular users are becoming more open with their mental health, that "I was having a psychotic break/I was having a manic episode/I was blah-de-blah" somehow taking the place of an actual apology. As if explaining it means you no longer have to take action or responsibility.

Especially given he was bringing up his profession during all this. As a professional especially he has a responsibility. I know "this is tumblr" but this is TUMBLR. People don't fact-check. You have sway. Especially as a professional.

He could've made the post unrebloggable, but if he did I haven't seen it. He could've pinned a post that actually contained information/a retraction/a quick apology and explanation, instead we got "I'm taking a break". He edited the post, but given part of his defense was that reblog chains are uncontrollable an edit you would not see unless you clicked back to his blog is...

I'm really hoping that once he comes back he'll say something. Because I know parasocial relationship and all that but I really did respect him, as someone transgender and with some of my specific mental illnesses in a field I'm deeply interested in.

But now I'm just... tired. He spread that same cycle of panic and delusion to everyone who read that post. Here I was thinking that I just got my dog back from the vet and now she and everyone else I love was going to die, that the apocalypse was coming.

Until I did the googling he as an actual ecologist did not do. As if me taking a tumblr post and freaking is less acceptable than him taking a twitter post and freaking.

I don't want to cancel him or bully him. I don't doubt that he's gotten some ableist nonsense, because the internet sucks. But he really hurt a lot of people and did a lot of damage. All I want is him to plainly say "I'm sorry, I did it because [x/y/z] but it was still wrong and I hurt people. Here is some actual information. I'm going to log off." Without a billion asterisks.

And honestly maybe apologize for siccing people on you but frankly given how hard my opinion of him has tanked I'm not gonna hold my breath.

I'm fine. The block button is a wonderful thing.

My feelings are mixed. Yes, I see that it would be terrifying to have your mental illness warp your perception of an event, but...you're not the only mentally ill person on Earth, and it's no less terrifying to be triggered into an episode by false information.

I have been asked by several followers to trigger tag #unreality because that kind of thing really messes with them. And the post was framed in a particularly triggering way—encouraging conspiratorial thinking by saying that there's a "media blackout" and that the official sources are downplaying the severity.

The post is still circulating as of this morning, and the misleading version is still hitting people's dashes and suckering people in. Why would you not just make it unrebloggable?

I don't know. I really don't know what to think of the whole thing.

The Twitter OP makes me honestly furious, claiming that "the cops" "blew it up" when it was first responders putting their lives in danger to stop the burning train cars from exploding. It's so frustrating to see people acting like they're calling it a "controlled burn" to cover up idiotic mismanagement. The crews that responded to this accident at great potential risk to their lives don't deserve to be called cops and slandered for making the best decision they could have possibly made.

In general it's worrying how folks on social media are responding—by encouraging paranoia and mistrust by attributing malice or idiocy to the people trying to manage the accident.

Folks say "fuck cops" but they can't distinguish cops from firefighters and hazardous materials crews working to save lives. That's scary to me.

I don't think we know enough yet to ascertain the causes of the accident, but I want to caution against looking for a specific party to blame as being at fault, because...these things can happen even when we do everything right. As long as we use these hazardous chemicals to make things, this is always a possibility.

And it's not necessarily a "preventable" failure of society that we make and use PVC, either. One of the causes of how widespread plastics are is that they are genuinely useful materials with properties that no other materials have. PVC pipe is what probably makes the plumbing in your house. Before PVC, there was copper, which is incredibly expensive, has a tendency to burst with temperature changes, and corrodes and reacts with various chemicals.

And the sad fact is, environmental disasters like this happen a lot. Many of them worse than this.

Not too far from where I live, there was a case where tons of radioactive waste were dumped into a municipal landfill. This radioactive waste was being handled by workers who didn't know what it was and had no protection. This was a case of malicious dodging of regulations. Mining coal creates radioactive and toxic waste that is constantly mismanaged. I was doing reports on local environmental news for my geology class a while back and many of the coal mines in Eastern Kentucky have a hundredfold violations of environmental and safety regulations, and companies usually dodge responsibility.

I hope this incident inspires people to think and talk about environmental regulations and rights of workers in the rail industry. What with the railroad strikes going on, I think it's worth considering that this is why we need to look out for the welfare of rail workers—you want the people handling the shipment of hazardous chemicals to be well rested and well protected.

[originemesis]

"creation took 7 days; now watch me fuck it all up in one night"

canon divergent adam / abel // haz.b.in h.o.tel

21 + / mid-low activity / private

ordained and entertained by skeu ; icon templates by cinna! 💜💛 human icons by bbglucifer ;p <3 --- > xxx

side blog: vortex @gutstaken

here are some cool people 😎 : @deathinfeathers , @voxistem , @lilitophidian , @cast-you-dxwn , @2ndrib , @atomeyes + @sainticidal , @arachn0philia , @drraphaelmd, @brokendreamscreation , @hlylight , @chasingrainbcws , @danger-tits-lute , @hclluvahctel

about // playlist // active headcanon // current verses // rules [beneath]

Caard-Esque:

Blog is 21+ for content concerns and mun is 25+ (an old) and will not interact with minors on this blog. minors should technically not follow me here either ~ so, don'tttttt...do that? thanks! if i catch you, you're yeeted to the shadow realm.

Do not follow this blog if you are sensitive to the sensitive topics related to this particular genre. I tag with "content word cw" for the extra wild stuff, but that's about it. adam literally has the highest swear/slur count in the show and he's only in 3 episodes, so be aware of that.

I tend to be private/selective as i get fairly overwhelmed with too much activity. i really get into plots though, and i'll spam the dash with some silly original dick chauvinism from time to time when ive fed my inner gremlins past midnight. That said, I do get easily overwhelmed when I'm following too many people and multi muse blogs in particular can exacerbate this feeling, so if I do not follow back - I might just not be in a good place to atm or I just don't see possible interactions btw our characters. It's nothing personal! ^^

This is a mutuals only interaction blog for my sanity (anons being fine). if i can see plots happening between us, i'll likely follow. but i get overwhelmed easily so please don't take it personally if i don't follow back or follow back right away.

I am not exclusive, but I prioritize my plotted threads and may have some mains/activity based off that as far as my main verse goes. But I will never be fully exclusive and i enjoy exploring different character dynamics. Also multiship is fine, but I am not exclusively here to ship or write suggestive content. My muses have always and will always require plotting and scene chemistry for me to consider writing ship material. In the case I do reblog shippy prompts still feel free to send in ofc! I'll see if I can make it work or not.

If I don't get a follow back within a week or two, if blogs i follow go inactive for up to 6-7 weeks, or if there's just no attempt on either of our ends to connect for an indefinite amount of time - i'll occasionally go through my list and soft block to clean things up. if we ever want to give it a go in the future, the option is there for us to re-follow and resume! i have in the past been made to feel like I'm walking on egg shells in rpcs regarding these matters and id rather avoid it here...im just here to chill, write and leave weird surprises in dms.

I don't like the feeling of being 'collected' so...if you are interacting with multiple of my muses, I ask you have a different dynamic for mine than them. This is just an act of courtesy I also extend to my rp partners. I interact more with folks that have a special relationship with my muse, so it's needed to deep dive into more interesting topics for me. I also do not usually interact w/ other of the same muse cuz I feel like I 'absorb' how others play him and I want to keep my version separated from that. I might give it a shot some times though depending on how it's presented.

I know that Adam is a bad guy. He's insufferable and can push buttons- but I am not him and I dislike constantly feeling like I'm being barraged for his actions, especially since I consider him to be a heavily layered character that should not be shoe horned into a standard 'ok irredeemable and never allowed nice things' box. So- if you honestly hate this character please don't interact. I am here for exploring taboo topics and ways that a flawed character can make others think he's justified, betray them, make people feel COMPLICATED things... I also love torturing my muse and taking the piss out of him, so I don't need people moving in and tying to constantly put him down/ruin his current plots by being god modey or not at least asking me how we should proceed in a power dynamic, or relationships cuz you don't ship what I ship, or find my interactions with other characters 'toxic' and 'not allowed'...let me explore and enjoy what I like on my blog within reason and do talk with me on dms if you don't like how things are going with our muses and you wanna explore other routes. I love to plot and I am very reasonable.

This post/my rules and conditions are subject to change based on what I get up to on here.

[kmomof4]

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 4

We are back with a new chapter, and this one's a bit of a doozy... but not anything I have to apologize for. I think y'all will like this one! Thank you so much for coming along on this journey with me! I really can't put into words what it means to me 🥹

Thank you again to @jrob64 @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 for their advice and being my sounding boards as I worked on this. And also to @snowbellewells and @motherkatereloyshipper for the artwork they did for the fic!!! I STILL can't get over either one!!! 😍

Ch. Summary: Ruth's birthday has arrived and Emma and Killian both come to some realizations.

Words: 8550 of approx 59,5k

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chapters.

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch2 Ch3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

“Is he here?”

“He is not.”

“Are you quite sure?”

It was all Emma could do to keep from rolling her eyes in irritation. “He hadn’t yet left Kilmartin House when I did, and I haven’t seen him since, so yes. I’m as sure as I can be that he hasn’t arrived.”

“But he is coming?”

“Yes. He is coming.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Fisher was quiet for a moment, looking around the Nolan ballroom. “There’s Ariel. I must go see to her. Lovely to see you again, Emma.” With that, the woman - one of the most notorious gossips of the ton - left her alone to interrupt her daughter, who was speaking most animatedly with a handsome, but sadly, untitled gentleman on the other side of the room.

The conversation with the society matron would have been amusing if it hadn’t been the seventh, no, the eighth - one mustn’t forget the conversation with her own mother - she’d had to endure since she arrived. And since Ruth had announced that Killian would be in attendance at her birthday soiree, she didn’t think there was any possible way to avoid the interrogation of the unattached females, and their mamas, of the ton. All trying to find out tidbits about him that might smooth the way for them to charm the dashing earl, as he was now known.

“Lady Kilmartin!” She turned to see Lady Lucas making her way toward her. She was a stern older woman that many in the ton feared, but Emma rather liked her. Not afraid of anything or anyone, she wasn’t hesitant about making her thoughts and opinions known. She was a legend around town and Emma counted herself fortunate to be consistently in the countess’ good graces. The crowd between them parted like the Red Sea, the partygoers removing themselves from Lady Lucas’ line of sight.

“Lovely to see you, Lady Lucas,” Emma greeted the old woman, when she was finally close enough that Emma wouldn’t need to shout to be heard over the din of the party.

“Hmphh,” the old woman replied. “Don’t lie to me. We’re both well aware that no one thinks it’s lovely to see me coming.”

Emma couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement at her bluntness, even if she didn’t fully agree with her. “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked instead.

“I’d enjoy myself better if someone would tell me how old your mother is.”

Emma gasped in shock. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“And why not?” Lady Lucas asked, indignant. “It’s not as if she’s as old as I am!”

Emma smiled slyly before speaking. “And just how old are you, Lady Lucas?”

The countess shot her an impressed look tinged with a knowing gleam in her eye. “Heh, heh, heh,” she chuckled. “You’re a clever one. But don’t think I’m going to fall for your tricks. You’ll never find out how old I am.”

“Then you must allow the same consideration for my mother.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But what’s the point of a birthday party if we don’t know what we are celebrating?”

“The miracle of life and longevity?” Emma asked, pertly.

Lady Lucas snorted at that. “Where’s that new earl of yours?”

Emma tried not to choke on her drink. “He’s not mine,” she asserted.

Lady Lucas raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re still the countess, are you not?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied. Her heart thundered in her chest and she prayed the woman next to her was unaware of it.

“And he is the earl.” The eyebrow went even higher. “Is he not?”

“Yes, of course he is.”

“That makes him yours,” she insisted with a sharp nod. “And besides, I thought you were friends.”

“W-we are,” she stammered. That much was definitely true, but Emma couldn’t countenance the underlying message the countess seemed determined to get across. “He is my brother-in-law. That is all.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Lady Lucas looked around the crowded room before speaking again. “I do believe you deserve a reprieve. From me,” she continued, in case her meaning had not been abundantly clear. 

“You are my reprieve,” Emma mumbled under her breath. But Lady Lucas gave no indication that she’d heard her, no matter that her hearing was positively wolf-like, able to hone in on anything of interest within a fifteen foot radius.

“I believe I’ll go pester your brother. Isn’t he newly arrived from Cyprus?”

Emma spied August some twenty feet away on the other side of the ballroom, surrounded by his own group of admirers, no doubt hanging on every word of his adventures.

“Why, yes, he is,” Emma acknowledged, a sly grin on her face. August was terrified of Lady Lucas and Emma would rather enjoy watching him try to avoid the countess once she set her eyes on him.

“Mr. Nolan,” she barked. Emma giggled behind her hand to see the terror flash in her brother’s eyes while he tried to pretend he hadn’t heard her. As Lady Lucas moved toward her latest target, Emma realized that she had been a very effective deterrent to the many matrimonial minded mamas who saw her as their only link to Killian. Good heavens, three of them were already heading her way.

It was time to escape. Now. She turned on her heel and marched right over to where her sister Ruby stood conversing with their sister-in-law Mary Margaret, and their brother Will’s intended, Belle French. Ruby was easy to spot in the crush of partygoers, wearing a beautiful red gown. Emma would have rather left the party completely, but if she was serious about finding herself a husband this season, she was going to have to stay visible and let it be known. Not that anyone would take any notice until Killian arrived. She could announce that she planned to move to the dark continent of Africa and take up cannibalism and the only response she’d be likely to garner would be if the earl was going to accompany her.

“Good evening,” Emma said, joining the small group.

“Oh, hello, Emma,” Ruby greeted her. “Where’s…”

“Don’t you start,” Emma growled. “If one more person asks me where Killian is, my head will explode.”

“That would certainly change the tenor of the evening,” Mary Margaret remarked mildly, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“As well as the cleaning duties of the staff,” Belle added.

Emma rolled her eyes.

“Well? Where is he?” Ruby demanded.

Emma sighed. “I don’t know. He said he’d be here.”

“If he’s smart, he’s probably hiding in the hall,” Belle observed.

“Goodness gracious, you’re probably right.” Emma could just see him bypassing the ballroom completely to socialize in the smoking room. In other words, away from all the females. “I wish he would get here so people would stop asking me about him.”

Ruby laughed loudly. “Oh my poor delusional Emma,” she guffawed. “Once he arrives, the questions will double and simply change from where is he to tell us more.”

“I fear she is right,” Mary Margaret said, with Belle nodding in agreement.

“Oh, dear,” Emma breathed, realizing that was exactly what would happen.

“You’re wearing blue!” Mary Margaret exclaimed.

Emma looked down, almost surprised. She’d nearly forgotten. The shade was really quite lovely, a soft sky blue. The comparison to Killian’s eyes couldn’t possibly be avoided.

“Yes, yes I am,” Emma replied, raising her chin just a touch. 

“You’re out of mourning, then?” Belle asked gently.

Emma couldn’t meet her eyes and lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, I’ve been out of mourning for quite some time.”

“Does this mean you’re wanting to remarry?” Trust Ruby to get straight to the point.

“It has been four years after all,” Mary Margaret added.

Emma couldn’t hide her wince. But there was no use denying it.

“Yes.” 

For a moment, there was silence from the ladies. Then they all spoke at once offering their congratulations and bits of advice that she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear.

“We shall have to spread the news, of course,” Mary Margaret said, excitedly.

Emma gasped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Of course I am! The blue dress is an excellent signal of your intentions, but the only ones astute enough to notice are fellow females. The men of our acquaintance are simply too obtuse. Don’t worry,” she continued, laying her hand on Emma’s arm, who was feeling rather ill at the prospect. “We will be the very model of discretion and tact.”

“Trust us,” Ruby interjected, the smirk on her face inspiring the very opposite. “Oh, look. There’s Killian.”

And so he was. The ladies all looked toward the entrance to the ballroom to see Killian already surrounded by a gaggle of women. Not that Emma was surprised in the least.

“My goodness,” Mary Margaret breathed, “I forgot how handsome he is.” Emma’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“He’s very tanned,” Belle added.

“He was in India for four years. Of course he’s tanned,” Emma snapped.

Ruby’s head jerked toward her. “You’re of rather a short temper tonight, Emma,” she observed.

Emma tried to school her features into a more neutral mask. “I’m just weary of being asked about him all the time. There are so many other more interesting topics of conversation.”

“Did you two have a falling out or something?”

Emma’s breath caught as she realized she’d left the wrong impression. “No, of course not,” she assured her sister. “But he’s been literally the only thing I’ve talked about all evening. At this point, I’d be delighted to comment on the weather.”

“Hmmm.”

“Of course.”

“Yes.”

Emma had no idea who said what as they were all once again staring at Killian and his crowd of admirers - about half pursuing him for marriage, either for themselves or their daughters, while the other half were young and already married, obviously pursuing him for another reason entirely.

“He is very handsome,” Belle commented. “All that black hair.”

“Belle!” Emma exclaimed.

“What?” she replied. “It’s true!”

“You’re to be married!”

“Well, I’m not yet!” she exclaimed. “And even then, I’m not blind!”

“Does that mean that Emma and I are the only ones allowed to comment on how handsome he is? Spinster that I am and unattached as she is…” Ruby asked.

“Killian is the last man you’d want to marry, Ruby,” Emma said.

“And why is that?” she asked. The words had been out of Emma’s mouth before she’d even had a chance to think, and now all three of them had their full attention fixed on her, awaiting her answer.

“‘W- well,” she stammered, her eyes widening as she cast about for something to say. “He’s just a terrible rake, is all. And you know his reputation. He could never remain faithful to one woman.” As she watched him charm the masses, her heart squeezed at her flippant words. He may have been a rake and a scoundrel, with no real responsibility, but the way he’d dutifully stepped into the role of the earl since being restored to health had been unexpected to say the least. She had a feeling that the change she’d sensed in him since their reunion a month ago, may very well extend to matters of the heart, as well. Or, maybe not necessarily matters of the heart - it was still very difficult to imagine Killian falling in love - but matters of duty to crown and country. The duty to marry and produce an heir. And Killian’s heart of honor would likely not allow him to break his marriage vows.

“Rake or not,” Ruby mused. “He’s terribly handsome. No wonder he attracts so much attention.”

“He’s always attracted female attention, but not from the marriage minded,” Emma said. “The fact that he’s an earl is the only reason he’s the catch of the season.” 

“You should go greet him,” Mary Margaret said, nudging Emma with her elbow.

“Why on earth should I do that?”

“Because he’s here.”

Emma gestured around the room as she spoke. “So are a hundred other men,” she replied. “All of which I’d rather marry.”

Ruby turned her shrewd gaze on Emma for a moment, making her want to squirm. “Mmhmmm,” she hummed. “Don’t know why,” she continued, now rolling her eyes. “Killian is far more handsome than any of them.” Emma turned her head sharply at her sister. Of all the Nolan siblings, Emma and Ruby were the closest in age, exactly one year apart. And while, of course, she’d give her life for her sister, more often than not, she felt like strangling her. Like now. Especially right now. “There’s only three here that I’d even consider obeying. And I’m not even sure about them…”

“Be that as it may,” Emma replied, desperate to redirect Ruby’s thoughts, “spending time with Killian will not help my prospects in finding a husband.”

“And I thought we were here to celebrate Mother’s birthday,” her sister quipped with a smirk. Emma glared.

“But Mary Margaret is right,” Belle said. “You should go over and greet Killian. It’s only polite and will signal to the ton that you fully accept him as the earl and that there is no rift between you. Which everyone will think, if you don’t.”

Emma sighed. Belle was right. Killian deserved a proper and formal welcome to London society and if she didn’t do it, it would be gossip fodder for weeks. And that kind of speculation at the moment would not help her. Not when she was trying to find a husband.

She’d always found Killian’s reputation to be amusing. Probably because she was rather removed from it all. What did his reputation matter to her as a happily married woman? But she was no longer a married woman. She was in the market for a new husband and to see Killian flirt and charm so effortlessly irked her for some reason that she didn’t want to look at too closely.  

“I will go greet Killian,” she promised. “Just as soon as I see to myself.” If she was going to fight her way through all the ladies surrounding Killian, she’d rather do it without having to hop from foot to foot.   

As she passed Ruby, she could have sworn her sister whispered coward under her breath. Emma inhaled sharply and walked faster instead of turning and lobbing back a scathing retort. Because Ruby just might be right, and that was terrifying to consider.

~*~*~

He was aware of her from the moment he entered the room. Emma stood on the other side of the ballroom conversing with her sister and sisters-in-law; or nearly, in the case of Belle French, Will’s betrothed. He couldn’t hide the small smile that touched his lips when he saw what she wore. Light blue silk glowed under the light of all the candles, and while she was too far away for him to experience the full effect, he still had to catch his breath at the picture that formed in his mind's eye.

Even four years away from her hadn’t changed that one whit. And he didn’t suppose it ever would. At least in India, she wasn’t around for him to be aware of her. But now that he was back, it was as clear to him as it ever was. He’d never be free of her. And she’d never be his. His heart clenched at the thought.

Within seconds of entering the room, he was surrounded by no less than half a dozen debutantes, and their mamas as well. As he suffered through each introduction, and re-introduction of the ladies, he blessed his ability - gift, really - to charm and appear wholly focussed on those seeking his attention, even if that attention was truly elsewhere. Emma suddenly left her family and was making her way toward the side entrance, no doubt seeking the ladies retiring room. Once she was gone, he announced his intention to locate his hostess to offer his thanks and best wishes, and excused himself.

When Emma arrived back in the ballroom, he hadn’t yet spoken with his hostess, being waylaid by Lady Lucas and Emma’s family. Not that he minded the Nolan ladies, since Ruby was the only one among them unattached, and she was as much a sister to him as anything. Killian immediately changed direction and caught his breath yet again, as the full realization hit him of exactly what it meant for her to be dressed in blue at a social event, even if it was her mother’s birthday fête.

She was out of mourning. Officially. She would flirt. And dance. And laugh. And find herself a husband. And it would probably happen within the space of a month. Because once her intention became clear, she would be flooded with suitors. After all, who wouldn’t want to marry her? She was beautiful, vivacious, witty, and had an air of maturity the younger debutantes didn’t have. And as her highest ranking male relative, he’d have a front row seat.

A soft, knowing smirk adorned her face as she approached him. He responded in kind as he met her halfway.

“Lady Kilmartin,” he murmured with a bow, taking the hand she offered him and brushing his lips across the knuckles.

“Welcome back to London, my lord,” she replied, curtseying properly. The moment they were both upright again, giggles and a full bodied laugh burst from them. The utter ridiculousness of the formality of their greeting was not lost on either of them.

Killian held his arm out for her. “May I have this dance?” She took his arm, the knowing smirk back on her face as he led her to the dance floor. He took her in his arms, his necessary mask when in her presence firmly in place, and began to lead her in a waltz. “You look lovely this evening, Emma. The color looks splendid on you.” 

Her cheeks flushed prettily and she demurely looked down. “Thank you. I see you did make time to see the tailor. You look quite handsome as well.”

They continued the waltz for a few moments before he spoke again. “So, are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Ruby, Mary Margaret, and Belle all said I should greet you properly, since this is your formal entry to society. Can’t let the ton think there’s any issue between us.” Killian swallowed hard, as he spun her and then drew her close again. “No matter that we’ve been living in the same house for weeks.”

“What issue could they possibly think may be between us?” he asked, honestly puzzled.

“I haven’t a clue,” she replied, “but that’s never stopped them from wagging their collective tongues, speculating about a non-existent scandal.”

“This is true.” Even in the few minutes he’d been the center of attention, he could plainly see the essence of the ton was unchanged since he’d left four years ago. He wasn’t sure if it was amusing or hell. Amusing, at the moment, he decided. Next week, it’d likely be hell.

“And what about you? Are you enjoying yourself, Killian?”

“Of course.”

“Of course?” She raised her eyebrow as if she didn’t believe him. “Even dancing with me, instead of being surrounded by a whole host of giggling young ladies hanging on your every word?”

“Why, Emma,” he said, waggling his brows, “Is that a note of jealousy I hear in your voice?”

Emma blanched and her eyes widened. He’d only been teasing her, but her response, quite honestly, startled him.

“O-of course not!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming again. “Why would you think I was jealous? I’ve never been jealous of your admirers before. Why would you think I am now?”

“Calm down, Emma,” he cajoled. “I was only teasing. I know you’re not jealous.” Even if the most fervent desire of his heart was for her to love him as he loved her, he couldn’t wish the torment of jealousy upon her, not when he himself had lived with it day in and day out for so many years.

She was still flustered and wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Killian couldn’t help the way his heart leapt with hope. “You must be careful though. These ladies are not your usual ladies.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I wasn’t aware I had a usual.”

Emma finally looked at him, though the color was still high on her cheeks. “Oh, come now, Killian. You know what I’m talking about. Four years ago you had standards. You didn’t seduce anyone who’d be irreparably harmed by your actions.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to start now?” The hope that filled his heart moments ago, plummeted. He brought them to a halt in the middle of the dance floor and led her to the edge of the ballroom and out onto the blessedly deserted terrace. He knew exactly what she was saying and he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been very conscious and purposeful to flirt and seduce where either Emma could see it or she’d hear about it later, all so she’d never know the truth that lay buried in his heart. And now his reputation as a rogue and scoundrel diminished him in her eyes. And that was the last thing he wanted. Bitterness and resentment rose up within him as he turned back to her, and he couldn’t keep their bite out of his words. “Tell me, Emma. Just who do you think I am? Do you really think me so dimwitted or careless that I might accidentally ruin some young lady?”

He didn’t think he’d ever seen her pale so quickly and he immediately regretted what he’d said. “O- of course not,” she stammered. “I’m just afraid…”

“Afraid of what?”

Her chin trembled slightly. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to count the number of hearts you’ll break this spring.”

His voice was quiet but hard. “And why are you so concerned about that? It’s not your job to count them.”

“I know.” Her voice was nearly a whisper and he had to strain to hear her. “But I won’t be able to help myself.”

He had nothing to say to her. Her words and posture had his mind spinning. Why would she concern herself with how many hearts he might break? He certainly didn’t set out to do so. But the fact that she expected it of him hurt. 

“You should dance,” she burst out.

“We just finished a dance,” he informed her, testily.

“I meant with someone eligi…” She cut herself off before finishing the word, and Killian couldn’t help but wonder why. There was no possible way she might have guessed that he’d consider her eligible. He’d kept his feelings too well hidden for that. “Someone you might marry.” 

Someone he might marry, he thought irritably. To her mind, anyone but her.

“As a signal to society that you are looking for a countess.” He made no comment, but he could feel the muscle in his jaw twitching in his agitation. “You are… looking for a countess… are you not?”

He shrugged, flippantly. “If you say so.” 

“Someone who won’t fall in love with you.”

He turned sharply toward her and raised an eyebrow sardonically. “Heaven forbid I fall in love.”

She turned her head more fully toward him, her mouth open in a soft O of surprise. “Is that what you want? To fall in love?” 

The joy and delight on her face was too much. Surely there was no more perfect irony in the universe. God must be sitting on His throne having a good laugh at how tied up in knots he was.

“Killian?” she asked when he didn’t answer right away.

She wanted him to find love. She wanted him to be happy. And all he wanted to do was scream.

“If you will excuse me,” he said, his voice cold and formal, “I must go find someone with whom to dance. Someone I might marry. But someone who will absolutely not fall in love with me.”

“Killian, please,” she said in a whisper. “Don’t be like this. I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, I understand exactly what you mean, Emma,” he stated. “We must preserve the delicate and pure hearts of the ladies of the ton, since my heart is far too black to be helped.” 

With those words, he turned back toward the ballroom and left the terrace.

~*~*~

The next morning, Emma felt perfectly wretched. She couldn’t shake the guilt that clung to her like a blanket, even though Killian was the one who was so cold and heartless the evening before. 

What had she done or said to provoke such an unkind response from him? He’d never been interested in love and marriage before, and while she knew he’d eventually fulfill his duty to marry and beget an heir, when he’d said what he did about falling in love, her heart had beat double time. She wanted that happiness for him, but his cold and callous words towards her, and then his actions the rest of the evening, showed her plainly that his words about love were just that. Words.

When she went back into the ballroom from the terrace, she’d been inundated with dance requests and spent the rest of the evening dancing with this gentleman, or that viscount, and even a marquess. But Killian still commanded her attention. And she was painfully aware of how he charmed every single female in attendance. It got to where she was quite disgusted with herself for not being able to put him out of her mind. 

Every once in a while, his eyes would meet hers and they would turn hard and cold, but with an edge of mocking as he moved on to the next conquest. It was obvious to her that he knew exactly what he was doing. After her whispered confession about counting his broken hearts, he rose to the challenge with alacrity. She still wasn’t sure why she’d said that. Or even what exactly she meant. The words were past her lips before she could really think about it.

But they were true nonetheless. She had counted. But why? What did it matter? She’d never cared before! And it was only going to get worse. The women of the ton were mad for Killian. If the rules of courtship were reversed, the drawing room of Kilmartin house would be overflowing with flowers of every description. All addressed to the Dashing Earl.

But it was still going to be dreadful. She expected numerous female callers today, all hoping that Killian would walk through the drawing room. But even if he didn’t, she’d still have to answer numerous questions about him…

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, looking into the drawing room. “What’s this?” 

Flowers. Flowers everywhere. Flowers of every description on every available surface.

It was her nightmare come to life! Had someone changed the rules of society and failed to tell her?

Lilies, orchids, tulips, violets. Roses. Roses everywhere. In every color. The scent was overwhelming and nearly sent her running.

“Tom!” she called the butler. She heard a loud sneeze and then he appeared in the doorway of the room holding a vase of daisies, his nose red and eyes watering terribly.

“Oh, Tom! I’m so sorry! All these flowers must be terrible for your allergies! But where did they all come from?”

“They are…” sneeze “for you…” louder sneeze “milady.” three sneezes in remarkably quick succession.

Emma blinked.

“For me?” She couldn’t fathom it. She was a widow. Men didn’t send flowers to widows. Did they?

Tom sniffed loudly and blew his red nose on his ever-present handkerchief. “I left the cards…” sneeze “on each arrangement…” sniff “so you would be able to identify each sender.” More sneezing.

“Here,” she said apologetically, “let me take those and you go take care of yourself.”

He handed the vase over and hurried off, no doubt thankful to be away from all the flora in the room.

Emma walked slowly into the room, and set the vase of daisies down on the nearest empty surface, too overcome by the lavish display. She came to an arrangement of tulips in the brightest of colors. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady the card read. It was signed Viscount Trevalstam. He’d lost his wife two years ago. Everyone knew he was looking for a new bride to give him an heir. 

A delicate purple orchid was the next vase she came to. From Baron Whale.

“Who could these be from?” she mused, approaching an arrangement of yellow roses. She couldn’t keep the giddiness inside of her hidden as a wide and delighted grin spread across her lips. A Shakespearian sonnet, if she wasn’t mistaken and signed by Earl Stone. They’d only been introduced the evening before and shared a single dance. He was quite handsome, but since she had a full dance card, she hadn’t had the opportunity to converse with him after their turn on the floor. 

“Good heavens!”

Emma turned to see Alice in the doorway. Her mouth hung open slightly, much as hers had been upon discovering the floral display. 

“What is all this?”

“I believe those were my exact words when I came in,” Emma laughed. Alice approached and Emma handed her the cards she’d already read. She watched her mother-in-law carefully. She’d lost her firstborn son when Liam died. How would she react to Emma being pursued by other men?

Alice’s eyes were soft as they rose to meet hers after reading the cards.

“Oh, my,” she breathed. “You seem to be the season’s Incomparable.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat. “Oh, don’t be silly,” she protested. “I’m far too old for that.”

“Apparently not,” Alice replied. “Have you looked at all of the cards?”

“Not yet,” Emma said. “But I imagine…”

“They’re more of the same?” 

Emma met Alice’s gaze and slowly nodded. “Does that bother you?”

Alice’s smile was sad, but her eyes were kind and wise. “Do I wish that you were still married to my son?” she asked. “Of course, I do.” She laid the cards down on the table and took Emma’s hands in her own. “Do I wish for you to remain married to his memory? Of course not. You are my daughter, Emma, and I want you to be happy.”

Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “I would like to have a child,” she said, feeling the need to explain to Alice that she wanted to be a mother, not necessarily a wife. 

Alice nodded and dabbed at her own eyes before turning toward another arrangement, a delicate and lovely arrangement of grape hyacinths and stephanotis. “We must read the rest of these cards. And then prepare ourselves for a flood of afternoon callers,” she said, her tone brisk, clearly communicating her wish to move on from the heavily charged moment.

“I rather think the callers will be women,” she murmured, “inquiring after Killian.”

“You may be right,” she agreed. She held up the card. “May I?”

Emma nodded and Alice opened the card. Her mouth dropped open slightly as she read the words.

“What is it?” Emma asked, almost dreading her response.

“Cheshire.”

Emma gasped. “As in the Duke of?”

“The very one.”

Emma raised a hand to her heart. “The Duke of Cheshire,” she breathed. “Oh, my…”

“Oh my, indeed,” Alice agreed. “You, my dear, are clearly the catch of the season.”

“But…”

“What the devil is all this?” Both ladies turned to see Killian standing in the doorway of the drawing room, looking exceedingly cross.

“Good morning, Killian,” Alice said cheerfully.

He nodded in response then looked at Emma. “You look like you’re about to faint,” he said, waving his hand around aimlessly. Emma dropped her hand back to her side, having forgotten completely she still held it over her heart. He came further into the room and raised his eyebrow. “Are we opening a flower shop, then?”

“We clearly could,” Alice answered him. “They’re for Emma.”

“Of course they’re for Emma,” he replied. “Who else would they be for? But good God, how many roses are there? And who would be idiot enough to send them?”

“I like roses,” Emma protested.

“Everyone sends roses,” Killian groused. “They’re trite and old and… who sent these?” he asked, motioning to a display of white roses she hadn’t yet read the card for.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t seen the card yet.”

He plucked the card from the arrangement and opened it. “Lord Gaston,” he read.

“You will under no circumstances marry him. He hasn’t two shillings to rub together.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open in shock. “And how do you know that?”

He fixed her with an unamused look. “I’ve been to my club.”

“That may be true, but it’s hardly his fault.” She may not have seriously considered marrying him, but she did feel compelled to defend him since everyone knew the young Lord had spent the last year trying to repair the damage his father had done to the family finances.

“You’re not marrying him, and that’s final,” Killian announced.

She should have been annoyed by his arrogance, but in truth, she was only amused.

“Very well,” she replied, a smirk on her lips. “I’ll choose someone else.”

“Good,” he grunted.

“She has many to choose from,” Alice supplied, helpfully.

“Indeed,” he said caustically.

“May I take these daisies to my room?” Alice asked suddenly. “They are my favorite flower.”

“Of course,” Emma agreed quickly. Alice picked up the arrangement and left them alone. It was only a moment later that Killian let out a violent sneeze. As soon as he recovered, he glared at the display of gladiolas next to him that prompted it.

“We shall have to open a window,” he groused.

“And freeze?” Emma asked.

“I’ll put on a coat,” he ground out.

“Are you jealous?” she asked coyly. He snapped his head toward her so fast, she quickly backtracked. “Not over me,” she clarified, mortified to feel her cheeks heat. “Heavens, no. Not that.”

“Over what then?” he asked, his voice quiet and clipped.

“Well… just…” she stammered, gesturing aimlessly toward the ostentatious display around them, “I mean, we’re both after the same goal this season, aren't we?” 

He stared at her blankly.

“Marriage?” Good heavens but he was obtuse this morning.

“What of it?”

She let out an impatient breath. “I don’t know if you’d thought of it or not, but I rather assumed you would be the one to be relentlessly pursued. Not me. I never dreamed that I would…”

“Emerge as a prize to be won?” He lifted his eyebrow at her knowingly.

“Well, yes… I guess.” It wasn’t the nicest way to put it, but she couldn’t argue the point.

For a moment, he was silent. His clear blue eyes never wavering from hers. “Any man who doesn’t want to marry you is a fool.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “Oh… well…” She was quite at a loss for words. “I believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Emma,” he sighed. Emma couldn’t look away from him. He looked tired, and sad, and something else. Regretful, maybe? No, Killian didn’t regret anything.

“I would never begrudge you this, Emma. You…” he cleared his throat, “deserve to be happy.”

She had no idea how to reply. Especially after their words last night.

“We both deserve happiness, Killian. Your turn will come.”

He turned questioning eyes upon her.

“It already has really,” she continued. “Last night. I was besieged by far more of your admirers than my own.”

Killian smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look angry, just… hollow, almost. And it struck her how odd an observation that was.

“Speaking of…” he began, reaching up and scratching behind his ear, “Last night. I must apologize for my behavior. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“Everything is fine,” she assured him.

“Nonetheless,” he said gruffly, “I’m sorry.”

She watched him intently. His face was so dear to her and she knew every last detail of it. But something was different about him now. And she wasn’t sure what. And she wasn’t sure how it’d come about. She was also quite sure there was more he wanted to tell her, but couldn’t find the words.

“Everything is fine, Killian,” she repeated. “We’re fine.”

He nodded sharply, turned on his heel, and left the room.

~*~*~

Later, Killian sat in his club, a tumbler of rum in his hand. He grit his teeth, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he reflected on Ruth’s birthday party. He didn’t enjoy acting like an ass, but he truly had, and the guilt ate at him. He couldn’t really blame Emma. She’d always wanted to see him happily married. As happy as she’d been with his brother. But when he’d uttered the L word the previous evening, the joy on her face at the prospect of him finding love was just too much and he’d snapped. At least he’d apologized, and she’d forgiven him, but the maelstrom of the feelings he held for his sister-in-law almost guaranteed that it would happen again.

Once she was married and out of the house, and he wasn’t sitting across from her for every meal, he’d be better. They’d remain friends, of course. Emma wouldn’t allow anything else, but her new husband would certainly not allow her to spend so much time in his presence, brother-in-law or no.

“Jones,” a voice called, before Killian heard a clearing of a throat. “Er, Kilmartin, rather. So sorry.”

Killian looked up to see Baron Victor Whale, an acquaintance from Cambridge. “Think nothing of it,” he said, motioning to the chair across from him.

“Splendid to see you back in London,” Victor said, taking his seat. “I trust your journey home was uneventful.”

“It was,” Killian replied. “Thank you.” 

They exchanged the most basic of pleasantries until Victor got to the point. “I understand Lady Kilmartin is in the market for a husband.”

It was a very good thing Killian was so well versed in keeping his true feelings hidden, because the baron’s words and the gleam in his eyes made the alcohol in his stomach sour, and he had to fight to keep his countenance even. No matter that he thought of little else in the last few days, hearing others speak of it was the very last thing he wanted to hear.

“Er, yes,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I believe she is.”

“Splendid.” The smile on Victor’s face grew and Killian steeled himself for his next words. “Will you dower her?”

Killian’s eyebrows jumped on his head in surprise. “What?” It hadn’t even occurred to him. Good God, he’d probably have to give her away at the wedding.

“Will you dower her?” he repeated.

“Of course,” he bit out, holding on to his temper by the most tenuous of threads.

“Her brother said the same.” Killian feared for his teeth if he ground them any harder. If Victor thought he had any chance of gaining Emma’s hand and her apparently double dowry, he had another thing coming. He’d been a frequent visitor to the track back in their university days, and he doubted that had changed appreciatively since then. He was very likely impoverished and looking for an heiress to save him from ruin.

“The Jones’ will care for her,” Killian replied through grit teeth.

Victor shrugged. “Apparently, the Nolan’s will as well. Well, good seeing you again, Kilmartin,” he said, standing. “I must be off to tell Cheshire the news. Not that I want the competition, but this won’t stay under wraps for long. Might as well be the one to start its spread.” He laughed and Killian glared as he walked away.

Killian looked down at the empty glass in his hand. Damn, he’d already drunk it all. He signaled for another and then heard his name again. He did his best to hide his irritation, but this time wasn’t entirely sure he succeeded.

“Good evening, Kilmartin.” The voice belonged to Earl Arthur Stone. The man was familiar to him, of course, enough that a friendly conversation in the club wouldn’t draw undue attention, but he often reminded Killian of a strutting peacock, and after his floral delivery this morning, there was little doubt why he was seeking Killian out this evening.

“Stone,” he greeted, motioning to the chair Whale had recently vacated. He was only a bit more circumspect than Whale had been, engaging him in pleasantries for a full five minutes before bringing up his true purpose.

“I called upon Lady Kilmartin this afternoon,” he informed Killian.

“Did you?” he replied, nonplussed. He may not have been in the house when Stone called, wanting to spare himself the parade of suitors that seemed inevitable after the floral display that morning, but he wasn’t a fool.

“She’s lovely,” Arthur continued, when it became clear Killian had nothing else to say in light of his revelation.

“She is indeed.” Killian swirled his fresh drink and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving the man across from him. 

Stone cleared his throat and spoke again. “I intend to court her, you know.”

Killian pierced him with a stare and was gratified to see just a slight bit of discomfort at his scrutiny. 

“Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now.”

Stone pulled at his cravat. “I wasn’t sure whether to inform you or her brother.”

Killian had no doubt David Nolan, the viscount and Emma’s eldest brother, would have no trouble determining the worth of potential suitors. But as her higher ranking relative, it’d be customary for him to be informed first by those same suitors.

“I am sufficient.”

“Excellent.” He took a sip of his drink and cleared his throat, a bit nervously in Killian’s opinion.

“Stone!” a rather jovial voice called. “And Kilmartin, too! What a surprise to see you!” It was Lord Cassidy. And if he wasn’t drunk yet, he was close to it.

Killian refrained from rolling his eyes at the man’s statement, as he took a seat between himself and Arthur. 

“When did you get back to London?” Cassidy asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“I’ve been back about a month,” Killian replied. He realized his glass was empty again and signaled for another. He was going to need it.

Cassidy nodded several times in quick succession. “And Lady Kilmartin, as well, I see,” he continued. “Finally out of mourning, yes? She wore blue last night,” he said, answering his own question. 

“She looked quite lovely,” Stone added.

“Indeed, indeed,” Cassidy nodded again. “A fine woman. Why, I’d go after her myself if I wasn’t already shackled to Lady Cassidy.”

Small favors, Killian thought, barely able to keep himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance. He couldn’t imagine being faced with a potential suit from the buffoon in front of him.

“How long did she mourn the old earl?” he asked and Killian bristled.

“Four years,” he bit out. “My brother died four years ago.”

“Whatever,” Cassidy replied, blatantly ignoring Killian’s emphasis on his relationship to the old earl. “It was a bloody long time.” He shrugged. “All the same to us though. She wasn’t looking for a husband until now.”

“No,” Killian said. If only because Cassidy had actually stopped to take a breath.

“The men are going to be after her like bees to flowers.” He drew out the s so that it sounded like a long zzzzz. “Beezzzz to honey, I say. And there hasn’t been a hint of scandal about her in all that time.”

“Of course not!” Stone sounded shocked and Killian ground his teeth wondering where Cassidy was going with this.

“Not like some of the widows out and about, eh?” he continued, elbowing Killian and shooting him a significant look. “If you know what I mean.”

Killian looked him square in the face and speared him with a stare that would have sent his underlings back in India scurrying, but which he was afraid Lord Cassidy was a bit too obtuse, or a bit too drunk to notice.

“What, exactly, do you mean, Cassidy?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

“It’s like…” He leaned in conspiratorially and his grin turned salacious. “It’s like…”

“Oh, for God’s sake, man. Spit it out,” Killian growled.

“I’ll tell you what it’s like,” he repeated, his grin turning into a leer. “It’s like you’re getting a virgin who knows what to do.”

“What did you say?” Killian’s voice was deadly quiet.

“I said…”

“I would take care to not repeat what you just said, if I were you, Cassidy,” Stone tried to warn him.

“Eh? It’s no insult, I assure you,” Cassidy continued before finishing off his drink. “I mean, she’s been married, so you know she’s not untouched, but she hasn’t gone off and…”

“Stop now,” Killian ground out.

“What? Why? Everyone is saying it.” 

“Not to me, they’re not.” If Cassidy was too dense to take the warning, then Killian was just going to have to cut his tongue out of his head. Or strangle him. “Not if they value their head.”

“Well, it’s better than saying she ain’t like a virgin,” Cassidy chortled, “If you know what I mean.”

Killian lunged.

“Good God, man,” Cassidy choked out, his back on the floor. Killian didn’t know how his hands came to be around the bastard’s neck, but he found he rather liked the way they looked there. “What… the hell… is wrong with you?”

“You will never,” he hissed, his face inches from Cassidy’s, “speak her name again. Do you understand me?” Cassidy tried to nod, but it only cut off his air supply more.

Killian released him and stood, wiping his hands on his pant legs as if wiping away something foul. “I will not tolerate Lady Kilmartin being spoken of in such disrespectful terms. Is that clear?”

Cassidy nodded and so did several onlookers.

“Good.” Killian decided now was a good time to vacate the premises, and so strode out of the room. Once in the hallway, he heard his name yet again and wondered who’d be so idiotic as to approach him when he was this angry. Will Nolan. Emma’s older brother. Damn.

“Kilmartin,” Will said, his customary knowing smirk firmly planted on his face.

“Nolan,” Killian greeted.

“I was having a quiet drink when I heard the commotion,” he said, motioning to the room Killian had just left. “Come join me.”

Killian may have wanted nothing more than to leave, but Will was Emma’s brother, so they were relations of a sort and he couldn’t get away with snubbing his invitation. Will had always unnerved him. They shared the same sort of reputation, that of the devil-may-care-rogue, but where Will was always cooed over by the society mamas because of his charm and wit, Killian had always been treated much more suspect. At least until he came into the title.

But Killian knew the man was sharp as a whip, and he had long suspected there was quite a bit of substance underneath Will’s always jovial exterior. If there was anyone in Emma’s family who might accurately guess Killian’s true feelings for Emma, it was Will.

Killian intended to share one drink with the man and leave.

“Fine evening, don’t you think?” Will asked, motioning for their drinks once Killian was settled in his seat, pretending to be comfortable. “Aside from Cassidy, obviously. He’s nothing but an ass.”

Of course, Killian agreed with the sentiment, but with Will watching him so carefully - even under the guise of friendly conversation - he could manage no more than a terse nod. Will cocked his head to the side just a bit and narrowed his eyes slightly. Almost as if to get a deeper look into his soul. Killian fought the urge to squirm.

“Thank you for defending Emma’s honor,” Will said quietly.

Killian didn’t know what he expected Will to say to him, but it certainly wasn’t that. It was his place to defend her honor, just as it would have been if any of the Nolan brothers had heard Cassidy’s despicable words.

“Emma deserves respect,” Killian replied, equally as quietly as their drinks arrived. Killian gave a nod of appreciation and took a sip. “I will not countenance anything less. From anyone.”

There was silence for a moment between the two men as they sipped their drinks.

“You could marry her, you know,” Will said easily. Killian nearly choked.

“I beg your pardon?” Killian was sputtering. Killian never sputtered.

“Marry her,” he repeated, moving forward just a bit, his gaze intense. 

Killian realized it was too much to hope that Will was referring to anyone else except Emma, but he had to try.

“And who am I supposed to marry?”

The look on Will’s face was condescending in the extreme, mixed with a fair amount of pity as well. “Do we really need to play this game?”

“I can’t marry Emma!” he exclaimed.

“And why not?” He looked honestly puzzled and Killian felt his jaw opening and closing, not a word coming out of it. 

“Because…” he trailed away, completely at a loss. Because that one simple statement made Killian realize that he could marry Emma. There was nothing illegal about it. There was only his own damn conscience. The conscience that maintained there was everything immoral about it. 

She’d been married to his brother. The brother whose death gave him money, power, prestige, and a title. And if he compounded the utter betrayal of his brother - loving his wife - by then stealing her for his own, didn’t that mean he had somehow wished for Liam’s death? 

And how could he possibly live with himself then?

Will sat back in his chair, his dark eyes still on Killian, watching and cataloging every muscle twitch, every eye movement, every emotion Killian was too shocked to keep hidden that worked their way across his face.

Will waved his hand dismissively, but without looking away. “I can see it’s a moot point anyway.” 

That brought Killian’s swirling thoughts to an abrupt halt. There was something in the tone of his voice. Something biting and provoking. He met Will’s stare with his own, searching for clues as to the other man’s agenda. “And why is that?” he bit out.

Will took his time answering. He toyed with his glass, took a small sip, and continued to scrutinize Killian. 

“Why is it a moot point?” Will finally repeated, his eyebrow raising in intrigue, just like Emma’s sometimes did. “Because you’re so clearly not interested in marrying her.”

Killian’s mouth opened for a quick, biting retort, but he shut it just as quickly when he realized he’d been about to say, Of course, I am.

He’d very nearly confessed the deepest desire of his heart to the brother of his beloved. And as he searched Will’s face, he knew that the man had somehow seen into the depths of his heart and mind and knew precisely how Killian felt about his sister.

“I must be going,” Killian blurted out, finishing his drink and rising to his feet.

“Of course,” Will said, affably. As if their conversation had been about nothing more important than the weather. “Think about what I said,” he murmured, as Killian strode purposefully toward the door.

As if he’d be able to think about anything else. For the rest of his life.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! New ch will be up Wednesday!

[countrymusiclover]

21 - Lehnsherr Revenge

Part 22

Battle of Heart and Mind

Tag list - ask to be added (in my ask box please) @aintinacage @hiraethrhapsody @mostlymarvelgirl @importantgalaxyrunaway

Shrugging on a red leather jacket paired with a gray tea shirt and dark blue jeans with boots. Tying my hair in a French braid going down my back I just stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. “The baby…they would have been a mutant like me and sissy.”

Ryder’s words were still buzzing around in my mind. Lowering a hand to my stomach I felt tears welling in my eyes thinking of my baby. Gripping the sink underneath my fingertips I sucked in a sharp and shaky breath hearing footsteps come across the creaky wooden floor. “Addison?”

“I just need a minute, Erik.” I tremble out a response with him standing in the doorway wearing a different change of clothes like me.

His gaze lifted up from the floor watching me. “Take your time. I just got the twins in the car.”

“Did you tell Charles we are dropping them off?” My eyes held focus on the mirror. Dropping one hand to my stomach I gripped the fabric of my shirt between my fingers still feeling the baby in me even though that wasn't the case.

My husband stepped up behind me unsure what the right thing was to do for me. Anyway he still wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. “Don't worry about that right now. Besides, he's a telepath. He'll figure it out.”

“I never thought this would happen to us. I…I never had a reason to want those people dead. Until they…they killed our baby.” Spinning my body around to face his front I couldn't stop the tears when I looked him in the eye.

He was no stranger to harsh and personal loss, but I was. My father Shaw and I weren't really close but this baby was a part of me. “Addi, come here. We're gonna be okay.”

“How are we going to be okay?” I sobbed into his shirt clutching the fabric in between my fingers.

Erik remained silent, unsure how to answer. “I'm not sure yet. But we'll figure it out.” The pair just remained holding one another until they both believed it was out of their system at least for a few hours until something triggered the horrible memory again.

The drive to the factory wasn't far from our house. Erik put the car in park looking into the backseat at the twins. “You have to be good and do exactly what you're mother tells you too. Do you understand?”

“Yes daddy.” Astraea nodded.

Ryder gave a thumbs up. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure you want to do this still, Addison?” Erik shifted in his seat sending her a weak look.

Reaching across the dash I intertwined my hand in his. “They deserve it, Erik.” We got out of the car and slowly walked into the factory. Erik closed the metal door with his mind causing everyone to turn their attention towards the two of us.

“Some of you spoke to the police... about what you believe you witnessed here yesterday. You want to know my powers... know who I am... see what I can do? I'll show you.” Erik began speaking, never removing my hand from his. “Think of the person you love most in your life. Your wife. Mother. Daughter. Son….unborn child Now that person will know what it is to lose someone they love. And live with that pain. Forever.”

One of the workers spoke. “Henryk, please. Don't do this.”

“My name isn't Henryk. My name is Magneto…Addison.” He answered him back watching me step forward turning our hands red taking his power.

Stepping forward away from him, my hands clutching into fists at my sides. “Invidia!” Raising my hands out in front of me and shooting my power towards the men.

The workers grabbed their heads crying out when the metal helmets they wore began crunching around their heads. I waved one of my hands, launching them up into the air and then slammed them down into the ground. The metal wires coming up out of the dirt, wrapping around them. Erik watched me with a smirk on his face making the men who wronged us both suffer.

“Who the fuck are you?” Erik could feel someone standing behind us so he glanced over his shoulder coming to see a guy with dark blue skin and covered in warriors type armor.

“I’m here for you.” The stranger answered.

Erik quickly turned his head telling me to run. “Get out of here. I’ll find you if he can be trusted.” Bolting out of the factory to the car I ran out of there with the kids in the backseat asleep. The drive was long before Erik texted me saying we should go along with the stranger and whatever plan he had.

Parking the car in the driveway of the school I nudged each twin, waking them up. Holding my hands with the two I walked them inside in search of Xavier’s main office. Some kids ran past us before I saw a wheelchair go into one of the rooms telling me where he was. Entering the office room the familiar professor lifted his head up from the papers he had scattered on the desk. “Addi! Astraea, Ryder. It’s good to see you. I wasn’t expecting a visit.”

“Sorry to just drop in unannounced. We weren’t exactly planning on coming without telling you beforehand.” I apologized to my friend.

Charles raised a hand not offended. “Don’t apologize, love. Is Erik with you too?”

“Mommy left him at his work.” Ryder piped up standing by his twin sister.

Charles knitted his brows. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“Kiddos, how about you go to your rooms here and get settled while I talk with your uncle Charles. I’ll find you before we get some food.” Bending down on a knee I pushed the kids out the door so we could talk privately. I didn’t wish for them to know what was really going on.

Once the office door was shut Charles spoke up. “Addi, please tell me what is going on.” I knew he could read my mind to know the answer but he was still polite about it.

“I was pregnant, Charles. Until I lost it.” I sniffed through some heavy tears that had begun falling down my face.

Charles raised a hand to his mouth. “Oh Addi. I’m so sorry. How…how did it happen if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A handful of policemen were killed by Erik after one of them accidentally fired an arrow into my stomach. I…I lost it a few seconds after I pulled the arrow out.” I sniffed wrapping my arms around myself for comfort.

Charles rolled up closer to me in his wheelchair. “But you’re perfectly fine now. How is that possible?”

“Ryder can heal people. He is a mutant like we were speculating. He actually has more than one ability.” I trailed off tucking hair behind my ear. “He can sense other mutants…the baby would have been one is what he told me and Erik.”

Charles tilted his head grasping my freehand in his giving me a soft look. “Addi, my love. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. But I came here to ask you a favor.”

He answered without hesitation. “Ask me anything.”

“Could you watch the twins for a little while. Erik and I have some things to take care of but I don’t want them being around us while we finish our tasks.” I questioned the telepath professor.

He nodded in agreement. “Of course I can. In fact there’s no one in your old room. You can spend the night here if you wish before you return back to him.”

“I appreciate that. Thanks.” I squeezed his hand seperaing to go find my old room while he returned to grading his students papers. Night had come down on the old Xavier mansion faster than ever in my opinion. I had settled the twins down to sleep over an hour ago. Laying down underneath the covers of the bed I heard my phone vibrate on the nightstand. Picking up my phone I saw that Erik had texted me the details of the strange man.

Erik - He wants to have us both help him with his plans. How are the kids

Me - They are asleep now. I’ll make the drive back there tomorrow.

Erik - He says that he has someone who can locate you for him. Just stay at the house and we’ll come in.

Me - sounds suspicious. Just make sure he won’t hurt our kids

Erik - will do, Addison. Love you

Me - love you too

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[brighttears]

Liberation

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: While escaping Kansas City in the midst of its liberation, you run into Joel and Ellie. After helping each other escape, you’re injured right before you’re home free. But, you’ve proved useful enough and good enough company for them to offer you aid and to tag along for at least a couple more days.

Warnings: Violence 

Word count: 4k

A/n: Ok I know this is literally the third time I’ve said I’m going to continue one of these on but I actually have an idea of what I can do with this so. Part one Probably

—

So this is what liberation looks like you think, crouched behind one of the nearly wrecked cars strewn around a large square parking lot, watching the scene before you.

FEDRA guards are being shot, dragged naked, stabbed, hoisted by their necks over fucking bonfires, and generally getting the shit beaten out of them by ex-rebels who are obviously having the time of their lives. Cheers and choruses of “FUCK YOU FEDRA” and “FREEDOM” blend in with the laughter and screaming in front of you. Every so often, the red of flairs paint the sky.

These hunks of metal you hide behind are the only cover you have here and the blacktop is covered in cracks and potholes–one wrong move, one second off, you’ll be caught landing on your face. But this is your only way to cross into safer territory, so you’re just gonna have to be clever about it. Going deeper into the city doesn’t make you feel good, but you’ll need to for the long game of escaping Kansas City.

You control your breathing in between breaks from car to car, keeping yourself calm enough to focus on where you need to go. It takes about 5 minutes to make it into an alley. The fires were lighting your way, without them, you’re widening your eyes in an attempt to improve your vision in the darkness of night. 

You stagger to the other end of the alley, dragging your hands on either side of the walls feeling for a door, but no luck. Just as a line of light crosses your body you slam against the back of a dumpster. 

“KANSAS CITY BELONGS TO THE PEOPLE. COLLABORATORS, SURRENDER NOW, AND YOU WILL RECEIVE A FAIR TRIAL. WE HAVE CONTROL OF THE QZ AND THE OPEN CITY. ANYONE CAUGHT HIDING WILL FACE CHARGES OF COUNTER-REVOLUTIONARY ACTIVITIES.” 

You can’t help but hear the similarity between the man on this megaphone to a FEDRA guard with a megaphone, riding through the streets with their big guns on big trucks. You’re not a collaborator and, you guess, technically, you are a rebel, but really, you just want to get the fuck out of this city. It’ll be better without FEDRA but tonight is not a redemption. You’d be better off on your own. 

After you count to ten and hear no trucks or footsteps, you dash across the street to the opposite alley. A flare briefly lights above you and reveals that there are no doors in this alley either. 

Shit.

Now your heart is starting to race. You run up behind another dumpster at the end of the alley as the chant from another rebel truck approaches. As soon as it passes your side of the street, you peek around the side of the dumpster and succeed in using their flashlight to spot a door in the next alley. Still crouched, you bounce on your ankles and huff breathes, readying yourself to bolt across another open street. As soon as your front foot skids to bring yourself up to run, the door cracks open, and before you can duck back you make eye contact with the man holding it open. You don’t recognize him at all. Hiding like he is, he can’t be a rebel, so maybe he’s a collaborator, but that means he’s trying to get out of the city just like you are. He holds your gaze, breaks it to look back through the door, then takes it back at you. 

Pleasepleasepleaseplease

That door is really your only chance. Luck’s been on your side for this long but it’s going to run out at some point. You have no reason to shoot him, he has no reason to shoot you, you have the same goal. All you can count on right now is the goodness of this stranger's heart. 

After a few more agonizing seconds of eye contact, the man nods his head toward himself. The relief is almost dizzying. You steady your mind and sneak further into the street, as soon as you know it’s clear you make a run for it. He steps back to open the door for you, closing it behind himself the instant you’re in. You sprint through so fast that you smack into the concrete wall a few feet from the entrance.

“Woah.” A flashlight pointed at your body reveals a young girl, but your attention is brought back to the kind (or so you thought until just now) man with the slamming of the door behind him, who immediately points a gun at you. Just as fast as he does, though, you’ve grabbed yours from behind your back to point right back at him. There’s a few breaths of silence. 

“Should I have my gun out?” the kid asks. 

“No,” you say, eyes still on the man across from you, “and neither should you, and then I’ll put my gun away, because I don’t want to hurt you and you don’t want to hurt me. We’re both looking for the same thing, here.”

“And what’s that?”

“To get the fuck out of Kansas City.”

“You know a way out?”

“Be quiet, Ellie.”

“I have a better idea than you do. You’re not from here, are you?”

“Nope, just passing through.”

“Ellie.”

“Ellie, why don’t you tell your dad to put his gun away?”

“He’s not my dad.” mixes with “I’m not her dad.”

“Ok, well, Ellie, why don’t you tell your paranoid partner in crime to put his gun away?”

“Ok, paranoid partner in crime, why don’t you stop pointing the gun at the nice lady who knows how to get the fuck out of this insane fucking city?”

He sighs and reluctantly lowers his gun. You follow, but tell him, “Mine doesn’t go away until yours does.” He slowly returns his gun to its holster and you tuck yours back between your pants and shirt.

“So you know a way out?”

“Yeah. Kind of.”

“‘Kind of’ sounds good enough to me.” Ellie speaks again, earning another glare from the man.

“Great. Follow me.” you begin to walk to the concrete stairs.

“How do we know we can trust you?”

“Well, I guess you don’t. But here we are, so how about we get moving?” you raise your eyes at him and motion up the stairs. 

“Alright, fine.” he huffs and follows behind you up the stairs. 

“His name is Joel by the way.”

“Goddamn it, Ellie–”

“Nice to meet you Joel. I gotta admit I like your friend more, though.”

“I am a very likable person.” Ellie speaks from behind you.

“Did I not just bail you out?”

“You did, and you get a point for that, but Ellie didn’t point a gun at me and has been a lot nicer, so, she’s got one up on you.”

“Ha-ha, get fucked, Joel.”

“Hilarious.” 

“Alright, I’m gonna take us to the roof and we can map out which streets are clear from there.” 

“How many flights?”

“Only six.”

“Fuck.” Joel mumbles.

“What?”

“He’s got bad knees.”

“My knees are fine.” he rebuts.

“Whatever you say, old man.” she replies.

You’re all panting a little once you make it out the door onto the roof.

“Okkaaayyy…” you put your hands on your hips and survey around the edges of the building. “Alright, here,” you point along a clear path of streets and buildings to the edge of the city. “See?”

“What, you want us to just waltz our way out?” Joel scrunches his face up to show you how stupid he thinks your plan is.

“No, I’m not fucking brain dead, just so you know.” You walk close to the edge of the roof and point to the next one over, the break between them about five and a half feet. “We get across this way.”

“You want us to jump from building to building? Do I look like fuckin’ Spiderman?”

“No you do not. Come on. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

He huffs, looking away, “I have bad knees, ok?”

“Just try once.” 

Joel glares at you. 

“Just try it, ok? If you can do it, it’s the quickest way out.”

“Come on Joel, I believe in you.”

“See, Ellie believes in you.” You point to her.

“Looks fun, too.” Ellie adds.

“It is fun.” you turn to the young girl and smile. “Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done.” You walk to the very edge, eyeing the distance and where you’re aiming to land. You take a step back, squaring your feet beneath your hips, crouch, raise your arms, and swing them with you as you launch yourself to land on the next building over. 

“COOOOOLLLL!” Ellie calls after you. 

“Keep your fuckin’ voice down.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s very cool. Alright,” you turn back to them, “You’re up next, kid. I’ll walk you through it. First, feet hip length apart. Alright, don’t jump, just follow my movements. Swing your arms forward and up, like this. Now, you’re going to throw your arms up angled forward with your jump. Not straight up, you’re leaping forward. While you’re in the air you’re gonna kinda swing your legs to where you’re landing–so find that before you do anything, focus on where you want to land. About half way across, both feet come forward to where you’re landing. You’re swinging your arms up and forward at the same time. Do not lock your knees, let your gravity follow down to your ankles. So,” you turn and illustrate the proper postures in slow motion, “Okay? Try those positions out first. Show me. Up, down, swing the arms up, great, okay, awesome. Don’t be scared, alright? Just focus on where you’re gonna land. I’ll be right here to catch you, or break your fall.” you smile and get her to laugh.

“Ellie–” Joel raises his hand forward towards her but before he can finish his sentence Ellie is leaping to you, landing with a wobble. 

“I DID IT!”

“SHH.”

“I did it!” Ellie whispers loudly, beaming, and you give her a double high-five. 

“Damn, girl, you’re a fucking natural.”

“Your turn, old man.” Ellie turns and giggles at Joel.

“Okay, I don’t know that, uh, I don’t, uh–”

“Well, we’re already over here, so unless you want to waltz out…” when you see the nervousness in his eyes you adjust your tone. “You’ll be fine. Do you want me to show you again?”

“No.” 

You can tell he’s just nervous and embarrassed. “I can tell you’re a capable guy.  I’ve done this a hundred times and seen guys older than you manage.” that’s a lie, but you really do believe in him, “Just try this one, if this isn’t a good idea we’ll figure something else out. Look at me,” you wait, “just don’t hesitate. You’re gonna be fine.” You hold Joel’s gaze until he nods. 

He takes a few deep breaths, crouches, swings his arms, and makes it over. He grunts in pain when he lands and you and Ellie grab his shoulders to make sure he doesn't fall back. 

“I am not doin’ that again.” he says through gritted teeth.

“Alright, yeah, not a sustainable method. Props to you for doing it though, you can cross that one off your bucket list.”

“That was not on my bucket list.” Joel stands and adjusts his jacket by pulling it down.

“Well it was on mine.” you and Ellie high five again.

“Now what?” Joel asks in an irritated tone.

“Hm.” You look around the roof, much bigger than the last, with a couple panels of ventilation fans, some milk crates, and a pile of 2x4s. You walk over to the planks, standing one up to examine it. You take it to the next break between buildings, eyeing the length of each. “Ellie, grab me another one of those?” You lay one on the ground and slide it over the break and then the next one beside it. The gap is a few feet longer than the last–you could’t have jumped it, anyways. “Ah, perfect.” you stand and look back at Joel with pride. He is not convinced. Before either of them can finish saying “DON’T” or “WAIT,” you walk straight out to the middle, turning back and then jumping lightly. The planks barely move with your weight. Once you’re across you look back, beaming.

“Your recklessness is not impressive.” Joel points an angry finger at you. 

“I’m not reckless. I just live here. We’ve been fine so far, haven’t we?”

“It’s taken us ten minutes to get 20 feet farther outta this goddamn city.” He retorts.

“Well, maybe if you’d stop dragging your feet,”

As you speak, Ellie walks casually over the planks to join you. 

“Ellie, you’re gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack.”

“Come on, ya lazy ass.”

That lures him over, knees bent and arms out as he steps across. 

“I’m 56 years old, you little shit.”

“Alright, enough bickering.” you grab the planks and set them across to the next building. 

Your pace picks up as you go but Joel is sweating by the time you finally make it to the last building. 

“Ok, listen,” he looks at you and Ellie, “we don’t have a car so we’re gonna be walkin’ for awhile before we’re clear. I don’t know about you but I am fuckin’ exhausted. I say we take that door and lay low inside for a few hours. Maybe get some sleep.”

“Sounds good.” you lead the way to the roof access door and down the stairs. 

It's an old office building, so you set yourselves up on the floor of some cubicles. 

You checked the breakroom for food and while what little was left in the fridge was rotten almost to the point of dust, you catch a break in the cupboards, finding some wrapped, homemade crackers. 

It’s a fantastic find but you can’t help your mind from wandering to just why you got so lucky–no one just leaves without taking their food with them. This luck came from death, as most things do these days.

“I’ve never seen you two around here.” you state to ask as you dine on your incredibly stale crackers.

“Well we’re not from here,” Joel answers you, “like she said, just passin’ through. Why aren’t you down there partyin’ with rest of the rebels?”

“I’m not a rebel.”

“Well you’re not FEDRA. You a collaborator?” He accuses you fiercely.

“No, no–technically, you could call me a rebel, but I’m not with any of them. I’m here because there are resources here. Now, even though it’s been ‘liberated,’” you air quote, “this is still Killa City. Being out from underneath FEDRA’s thumb is going to be an improvement no doubt, but the bar is fucking low. I have enjoyed my stay–well, no I haven’t, but, it’s time for me to go. Where are you guys headed?”

Joel hesitates. “Wyoming.”

“What’s in Wyoming?” 

“Doesn't concern you.”

“Jeez, fine. Just curious. Well,” you brush the crumbs from your hands, “I can take first watch.”

“You’ll take second watch.”

“Calm your tits, cowboy. I think we’ve proved to each other that neither of us wants to kill each other, so I don’t see how all this suspicion is necessary. You’re the one who said you were exhausted, but, fine, I’ll be happy to get some shut eye.” you get up and walk to your corner of a cubicle.

“If it makes you feel any better, he never lets me take watch.” Ellie tells you.

“How many days has it been since you slept then?” you question Joel.

“I’m takin’ first watch.” he states.

“Your loss.”

You and Ellie both lay down to sleep, her using Joel’s jacket as a blanket and you using your own. You angle yourself so that you can see Joel but all he can see of you is your feet. You’re sure you’ll outlast him and catch him falling asleep before his watch is up. Even in Killa City, you’ve been able to sleep most nights. You’re proven right within an hour when Joel’s eyes finally defeat him and his chin slumps to his chest. You stand up and walk over to him silently and then crouch down in front of him. Trying to keep yourself from giggling, you blow on his face a couple times to wake him up. He does with a start but is met by your wide smile, finger over your lips to tell him to keep quiet while also trying to hold in your own laughter. “You’re fine. It’s only been an hour and you’re already passed out. Let me take first watch. I’ll wake you up for second, or I can take both, you obviously need to sleep.”

He takes a few blinks to think it over. “Jus’... wake me up for second.” he pushes his rifle into your hands. 

“You got it. Nighty night, cowboy.”

Joel glares at you as he lays down in front of Ellie, facing you. His breathing slows into sleep within two minutes. 

You’re happy to be able to let him sleep. He does an alright job hiding it, but he looks fucking exhausted. Crossing over buildings had to have been his body’s last straw. 

As his face relaxes, this is the first time you’ve seen him not scowling or looking otherwise vexed. He’s still handsome then, but like this, he’s straight up pretty. His hair is silver kissed, his brow deep, lips a little pouty, and the end of his nose has a cute little pinch. His lips part slightly with his face laying on his hand, and he’s got his legs almost curled up. He’s totally just a big teddy bear. Besides his looks, the other thing that gives it away is the young girl tucked up behind him. You have no clue what the deal is; apparently, she’s not his daughter, but there’s no doubt he is–or was, somebody else's. What you can’t figure out is why he’s being so fatherly to some random kid. Maybe she’s someone else’s, maybe he knew her parents and they died, or he’s taking her to them in Wyoming. Maybe he just found her and couldn’t make himself leave her. Whatever it is, they couldn’t have been together long because he still hasn’t warmed up to her, or, rather, is still trying to hide it. Anyway, it’s pretty adorable, and you’re dying to figure him out.

You decide to deal with his well-rested temper tantrum and take both watches. Ellie is the first to wake as the rising sun flushes orange through the wall of windows. She rises to lean on her arm and wipes the sleep out of her eyes. “Hey.” she croaks. 

“Morning, little one.”

“Little one?”

“Well you’re little, and you’re one, so I figured it suits you.” 

“Whatever.” She stands, steps over Joel and slides down the wall of the cubicle to sit next to you.

“So he let you take second watch?”

“No, he passed out within an hour and I woke him up.” you both laugh quietly. “So what's the deal with you two?” 

“Uhhh…” 

“You don’t have to tell me. Just curious. You make an odd pair.”

“We do?”

“I guess, kind of. It’s just like, your contrast. You’re a sunshine, he’s a rain cloud.”

“Ah, he’s just putting on a show.”

“I know.”

Ellie pauses and looks at you, “Really? You think he’s just, like, acting like a rain cloud?”

You’re adorable. “Oh, totally. He’s just a big teddy bear. I don’t know what the relationship is, but he really cares about you.” you turn to study him. “He’s just… lost a lot of people. I mean, who hasn’t, but… I dunno. You can just tell with some people. It’s just armor, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

You look back to her and her face has fallen a little, eyes distant. You nudge her. “Hey. Wanna see something cool?”

She looks back at you with that adorable kid smile “Yeah.”

You pull out your butterfly knife and start flipping tricks. Her mouth drops, “You HAVE to show me how to do that.”

“Show’er how to do what?” Joel grumbles upon awakening. Once his eyes land on the knife in your hand, he immediately says, “No.” It takes him a minute to sit himself up, moving slow with grogginess, blinking his sight back. “Why’re you holdin’ my rifle?”

“Um, cause you gave it to me?”

“That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not! You basically shoved it in my face when I woke you up.”

“Woke him up? Joel, I thought you were taking first watch!” Ellie calls him out, straight up teasing him.

“Yeah, he did, for like an hour before he passed the fuck out.” you play along.

“How irresponsible of you, Joel.” Ellie says with sarcastic sternness. She laughs and Joel huffs, giving you a side eye before snatching the rifle back.

“I told you to wake me up fer second watch.”

“I tried waking you up but you wouldn’t budge.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Yes it is. You just looked like you needed the sleep.”

“Well… you shoudl’a woken me up.”

“I will next time.”

“Next time? What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” 

“Damn, alright, I guess not.”

“You mean you’re not gonna let her come with us?”

“No.” Joel says to Ellie, his tone like it’s the stupidest question she could ever ask. She looks to you and you shrug. 

“Come on, Joel, pleeease? She just saved our asses!”

Joel checks that the rifle is loaded, “Well, I saved her ass first, so now we’re even.” He looks at you and you’re struck by this first good look at big, beautiful, deep brown eyes. 

“Yeah, fine,” You almost stutter, “let’s just get out of the city first, and then we’ll say our fond farewells.”

Joel says nothing, Ellie huffs. 

You’re all completely silent getting down to the first floor of the six floor office building. It seems quiet outside so far, but after last night, you have no idea what to expect from the city. You’re sure that if the rebels see you trying to sneak out of the city, you’ll all be automatically assumed guilty of collaborating. You’re not in a great position in this office building with it being mostly windows, most of them broken, and no matter how slowly you step it’s gonna be noisy. 

Joel leads, peering around a corner to check your surroundings. Then he turns back to speak to you. “Where’re we going?”

You step forward to check from where he had. Before you is an empty parking lot. Bordering the farther ends are overgrown grasses and then a few trees, just thick enough to provide some kind of cover. Right past those is a steep hill leading up to the highway. “It’s pretty much a straight shot up to the highway. Ok, I’ll go out first and then–”

“I’ll go out first.” Joel interrupts. 

“No,” you order, “I’ll go out first, because I’m not taking care of a kid.” That shuts him up. You raise your gun straight out before you and make your way to the treeline, conscientiously observing every angle. Once you make it to the trees you wait a few seconds to be sure it’s all still all clear before nodding to Joel. Once you’re all there, you once again take the lead up the hill, following the same caution, especially since once you’re on the highway you’ll have nowhere to hide. You take longer this time before having the two follow you. 

“Alright. Thanks for everything, goodbye.” Joel nods to you curtly. As soon as he finishes his sentence a gunshot rings out and you all instantly drop to the ground. Your eyes move sharply to spot the movement, which is coming from three targets ducked behind the siding of the highway. Keeping your gun in line with your gaze, you take the gunman out before Joel has cocked his own gun. Another shot rings out and you feel a jolt down your leg and lose your focus. Joel takes the next shot to take that one out and then one posted right beside him behind the concrete blocks. You remain laid still on the ground for a count of five and then you throw a nearby piece of broken concrete ahead of you. After another count of five with no movement, you slowly rise. You feel a burning on the side of your calf and before you’ve even looked down, Ellie announces, “Shit, you got shot.”

Sure enough, blood is seeping through your pants. It starts and drips from where you’d felt the jolt, a little below your knee. You kneel down and hike up your (thankfully pretty loose), now ripped and bloody pants to reveal an about six inch gash down the side of your calf. “Shit.” You sit down fully and tear the fabric from where it's ripped below your knee and then wrap and tie the long strip around the wound. 

“We gotta get that clean.” Joel says, having come up to kneel right next to you.

“Yes we–we…” you smirk up at him. 

“YES.” Ellie pumps her arm in the air, “Not at you being shot, I mean you coming with us.”

He looks you up and down thoughtfully. “Fine.” Joel stands and offers his arm down to you, you grab his wrist so he can bring you to your feet without you having to put pressure on your injured left leg. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah, but I probably shouldn’t for long.”

“Alright.” Joel takes a deep breath and surveys. “Well let’s get movin’. There any bodies of water around?” He asks you.

“Yeah, Missouri River’s actually only about a 30 minute walk from here, there’s a bridge that crosses there too, heading in the right direction, towards Wyoming.” 

“What’s around there? Somewhere we can set up for a night?”

“No, pretty much nothing. There’s cover under the bridge, though.”

“Alright. We’ll head down there. Find a way to boil some clean water, wash that, ‘n then… see from there.”

“Sounds good.” You smile at him, he eyes you but doesn’t return it, walking on to cross the highway.

Ellie comes up beside you and looks at your pretty much bloodsoaked ankle. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll live.”

“Good, cause you’re a lot better company than Joel.” she grins at you as you start to walk. Joel glances back with a famous fake glare. 

And suddenly, you’re part of a group for the first time in a good few years. Walking with one boot filling with blood, beside you, a foul-mouthed, adorable little kid is who is basically skipping at your side, with a handsome, mysterious, teddy-bear in shining armor leading the way. Not a bad setup.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Take Me Home, Country Roads

Prompt Day 8: Idiots to Lovers | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ Only | Tags: Canon Divergence Post-Season 4, Eddie Munson Lives, Road Trip, Established Relationship, Motel Room, Mutual Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Dual POV, Eddie Munson is Bored

This does take place during my fic Take the Money and Run, but can be read as a standalone.

Day 60/90: November 24th, 1986 I-5, Washington

Steve

"Did we forget West Virginia?" Eddie asks, very suddenly and out of the blue.

Steve looks over at him from the driver's seat.

"What? No," Steve says, trying to lean over and look over the map while still keeping the car on the road and between the lines.

"I think we missed West Virginia," Eddie says, tracing their route.

"We definitely didn't," Steve says, because even if they did, Steve's not about to back track nearly three thousand miles. They couldn't be further from West Virginia right now unless they were floating in the Pacific ocean. 

"Steve, I think we did," Eddie argues.

"We drove through there. For sure. I remember," Steve lies. He doesn't remember shit.

Eddie looks skeptical, like he knows Steve doesn't remember shit. But Steve's trying to sell this, even if he's not sure he's pulling it off. 

"Maybe," Eddie says, "maybe we clipped the edge."

"We did. We definitely did," Steve assures him. He has no fucking clue if they did or not, that was months ago. Eddie tells him where to drive, and he does. He really couldn't draw a map of where they've been and where they haven't been. He figures Eddie will know. Eddie is the navigator, this is his job. 

"Okay, we probably did," Eddie decides, and Steve relaxes into his seat. 

Eddie's quiet for a few minutes, but then he speaks again, asking, "But what if we didn't?"

"Then we'll probably die," Steve says dryly, and Eddie laughs, tossing the atlas up onto the dash, apparently deciding to let it go. At least for right now.

Eddie

They didn't go through West Virginia. He's almost certain. He fucked this up. He's an idiot. They were supposed to hit all fifty states. Well, all forty-eight, at least. And now he's fucked that up, he's pretty sure.

Steve doesn't seem to care though, so Eddie's trying to believe they clipped the edge. That they did go through, even if they didn't really do anything. Just being there counts, as far as he's concerned. 

They've stopped in Seattle, and it's cloudy, and definitely looking sorta gloomy. They've kind of just decided to hang around the room, waiting on a better day, but there hasn't been one. Eddie looks out of the window, into the foggy city, one more time.

Eddie's getting a little bored. A little stir crazy. He wants to do something, anything. 

"You wanna play strip poker?" Eddie asks, glancing over at Steve.

"If you want me to get naked, just say so," Steve answers, flipping through the television channels. 

Eddie laughs, he definitely wants Steve to get naked. He always wants Steve to get naked. But he just wants to do something, anything. 

"I'm bored," Eddie admits. "The weather is making me sad."

Steve kicks open his legs, in invitation, "Come sit with me."

Eddie doesn't want to sit. They've sat for two days. 

"Let's go do something, anything."

And he watches as Steve slowly, so slowly, unzips his jeans. He's smiling and it's cute, but Eddie was serious. He needs to be out of this room. 

But then Steve's taking his dick out of his pants, and Eddie's forgotten what he was even bitching about, now. He walks to the edge of the bed, but doesn't crawl up on it, and Steve falters. Like he's not sure if he's done something stupid.

"Touch yourself," Eddie says, and Steve relaxes. And he kicks off his jeans, and his underwear. Then pulls his shirt over his head, and tosses it away, too. 

Then he wraps a fist around his dick, and strokes himself.

Steve

He feels stupid, and a little embarrassed doing this while Eddie just watches, but Eddie digs around in the sex pumpkin, and fishes out the lube. Steve holds out his hand, and Eddie drizzles a little into his palm. 

And then he goes back to watching, just standing there, near enough to touch him, but not doing it.

So Steve just fists his dick the way he likes, and keeps eye contact with Eddie. Sliding up, and over the head, before going back down and starting the movement all over again. He tilts his head back a little, exposing his neck, and Eddie whines, just a little. 

It makes Steve smile. 

"Feels good," Steve says, and when he looks back at Eddie, Eddie is rubbing his own dick through his jeans. Cupping, rolling his hand against himself, and it makes Steve's dick jump in his fist. He's so attracted to Eddie. He doesn't know how he's managed to live without looking at him. Touching him. 

How he's lived without Eddie touching him. He really likes Eddie's hands all over him. His rings, his fingers. 

"I want you to touch me," Steve says, and Eddie wastes no time. He crawls on the bed, nodding as he's sliding between Steve's thighs, finally wrapping his hand around Steve's dick and stroking.

Steve groans, bucking into Eddie's fist. That's good. That's so good. Better than his own hand, that's for damn sure.

Eddie strokes him, with just the right amount of pressure, and before long Steve comes. All over Eddie's hand, his own chest, hell, probably the bed. 

"Fuck," Steve says, riding the last waves of his orgasm. 

And then he reaches for Eddie's belt, tugging on him. Pulling him closer. Shoving him onto his back, manhandling him, a little.

"That's good," Eddie says, and Steve runs his hand over his own flagging dick, gathering up any leftover lube, and then he fists Eddie.

Eddie moans and arches upwards, coming while Steve works him through all of it. Then, Steve slides on top of him. Pressing their naked bodies together, sliding against him, even if they're both already spent. It still feels good to touch him.

When Eddie looks at him, Steve asks, "Still bored?"

"No, I'm good," Eddie answers, and Steve smiles. Leaning down to kiss him, just because he can.

Notes: Since this fic's original chapters were song titles, I went with the John Denver classic about West Virginia. Did they go through WV in the original? Like Steve, I say yes, because I definitely had developed a plan/route while writing Take the Money and Run to get them to all 50 states, but I sure can't find proof they went through there now. 🤣

This was prompted by THIS POST because I saw it and felt big regret that I didn't know it existed in WV while writing TtMaR. So, I was like, maybe I can fit it into a drabble? Did their route go near there?? Then I went down the rabbit hole, just like Eddie and Steve, on whether they were ever in WV at all, haha.

I loved getting to write them for a little more time, here. It was fun! (And these versions of the boys will be back on Road Trip day, too. Because, what else would I write for that prompt? LOL.)

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request Wrecker x reader where they sneak off really late at night for a cute little walk because they haven't been getting enough alone time. And it's a new relationship, so everything's still all cute and giggly. Maybe they think they are being quiet when they are sneaking back in, but something funny happens and reader is like dieing laughing and Hunter walks in like wtf is going on. Idk, feel free to ignore. Ily ♡

Warnings and Information: No real age warning for this one. 2nd person POV, undescribed Reader that can be read as gender neutral. Little sprinkling of Mando'a. Minor language (everyone say "thank you, Crosshair!"). It’s all the giddiness of a new(ish) relationship with the powerhouse of Clone Force 99 that is Wrecker. 🩷 Impromptu date late at night. Decided on a Modern!AU for this one where (most of) the Bad Batch work as a construction crew, and there's a few cameos of other Clones too. Hope you enjoy what I came up with! 

Word-count: 4,544

Setting your bag down on the welcome mat, you thread your house key into the lock with an eager sigh. You're pretty tired. You finally have a free night, thankfully, and you've been away from home all day. 

You're looking forward to just vegging out on the couch to catch the season finale of your favorite show for the next hour and crawling into bed as soon as you finish trawling the 'net for other people's impressions of the finale. There's a lot of speculation regarding the dashing rogue of the series, and whether or not they'll finally pluck up the courage to share this big secret the show writers have been dangling over the fans. You just hope some news article doesn't show up in your social media feed only to come along and spoil it in the headline. 

"People really need to learn to tag their kriffing spoilers… It's not that hard." 

You bump the door open and hoist the bag back over your shoulder just as someone calls out your name. 

"H-hey! Wait up!" 

You pause in the entryway, cheeks pinching with a large smile. "Hey Wrecker." The way he's doubled over, hands pressed into his knees while he pants for air, you can guess Wrecker had likely jogged over to your place from his. He lives not too far from you, and it's a jog he's made several times before, but it has been a slightly warmer than average day that has only just begun to cool off in the last few hours. Tech, one of Wrecker's brothers, calls the phenomenon the "heat island" something or other. Effect? (If that wasn't right that sounded close enough.) "You okay? Here, come on in. Would you like some water?" 

"B-but- Weren't you jus' leaving?" Wrecker manages between slowing pants. He used the edge of his sleeve to mop the sweat from his brow once he's upright, fixing you with a woozy smile when you hook your fingers around his own and lead him inside. "Oh, no, I just got home, actually. How come?" You fill a glass from the cold tap and rummage around the freezer for some ice to make it a little more refreshing. Wrecker just ran so hot sometimes you were surprised he didn't pass out on some of his job sites as a construction worker. 

"I- oh, thanks, cyare." Wrecker greedily gulps down a few mouthfuls of water to relieve himself of his thirst, careful not to spill down his front or all over your kitchen floor. 

The intimacy of the pet name makes your ears flush with warmth, and your cheeks pinch a little more with a tender smile. "You're welcome." 

The worst of his thirst now quelled, Wrecker could explain why he thought he had caught you leaving the house. "I, uh, I came over to ask if you wanted to go do something. Together. Jus' the two of us. Worried that I got off work too late or took too long to clean up a bit and I caught you about to leave. I know it's nearly eleven, but it's been a while since we had a moment to spend time together… just to ourselves." There was good reason for the emphasis on the last three words. In the infancy of your relationship with Wrecker, you have only had one date together that wasn't interrupted in some way by his job, or one of your day to day priorities, or one of his brothers. 

You liked his brothers well enough thus far, but sometimes they really needed to learn when to butt out. Or what was appropriate for company. 

"Wrecker, have you seen my live specimen?"

"Hunter! One of Tech's kriffing specimens got loose again! Can't find the damn thing!" 

"Oh Maker…"

"L-let's leave, cyare. It's not a dangerous specimen or nothing, but it's jus' creepy." 

You smiled at Wrecker, and to him, those smiles could have thawed out an ice planet like Hoth twelve times over. Smiles that could get Crosshair, even in his most sour of moods, to return the gesture even for a fleeting moment. "Time just to ourselves sounds very, very nice… What'd you have in mind? I'm down for anything." The minute you pulled him across the welcome mat you decided you wouldn't mind watching the final episode of the season another time. Wrecker was here, and by happy coincidence, your schedules were completely free for the weekend. You could stay up as late as you liked.

"You wanna go for a bite? Or maybe go take a walk?" Wrecker offers. You like the idea of a casual walk, now that it's cooler. You glance at your footwear, a pair of sandals, and think for a moment it'll be smart to put on a pair of closed-toed shoes. "A walk sounds nice," you reply brightly, "You wanna go… uh, how about by the lake in the park?" 

Wrecker grins at the idea. He's got such an infectious smile that gives you butterflies in the pit of your stomach and a booming, boisterous laugh that you just loved. "Sure, tha' sounds nice! Been meaning to go see it one'a these days, but I'm busy helpin' my brothers with work most of the week." He'd love to go check it out with you, he says. 

Going to the lake took you past Wrecker's house, all dark save for two windows. Tech's, of course, and you believe the second is another brother of Wrecker's who's moved in only recently. 

You haven't had the opportunity to meet him yet. You hope to, one day, when he's ready. 

"He's… been through a lot. One'a our other brothers thought it might be a good idea if he came and lived with us for a bit. Quieter. Less people." 

"How many brothers do you have, Wrecker?" 

He had laughed, scratching nervously around the back of his head with a great shrug. "I dunno, honestly. I have a lot of brothers. But, I get along best with Hunter, Tech and Cross… So I hope I get along with Echo too." 

"I'm sure you will, Wrecker. You're friendly and kind and sweet… a-and um…" Your mouth had gotten away from you, then. You had only been friends back then, and you'd slowly grown closer, grown feelings for this gentle giant. You were that close to blurting out that you thought he was handsome, cute even, down to the scar and replacement eye that was a result of an accident on one of his very first job sites. He had said your name with that same jovial laugh and winning smile and, jokingly, asked, "What? You gonna say I'm cute or somethin'?" 

That's all it took. Just a few months later, here the two of you were, playfully bumping into one another as you entered the park hand-in-hand, making jokes and laughing together. 

"No-no-no, that's not what the joke means!" you insisted, feeling the ache in your sides growing the more you laughed until you were nearly breathless. "You realize Cross is messing with you, right?" 

"Yeah, 'course I do!" he replies, "But so am I! It's jus' how the two'a us are. It's a lot of fun to purposely misunderstand a joke and see how long it takes before Tech can't take it anymore. Our record was two hours. Hunter even joined in!" 

"But I thought he hated it when you and Cross goofed off on your job sites." 

Wrecker grins through mischievous laughter. "Naaah. Hunter goofs off on job sites just as much as us when we can get away with it, but he's more… subtle about it. Unless he wants to show off to our older brother Cody. He's a contractor and the one who suggested the job to us; so we try an' behave a little more than usual when he comes to check on how construction is going." Wrecker explains. They've been part of the crew who initially came in to renovate some very old apartment buildings here in this little, growing city, but overnight the sign that had previously said "RENOVATIONS UNDERWAY" for the first few weeks became "DEMO AND REBUILD". Now you know why; Cody's the one who made the call on that, and you wonder why the sudden change. 

"Oh, huge infestation that went untreated for too long. I don't remember what Tech calls them or what they are, but Cody said it was gonna be better to scrap everything and build fresh. I ain't complaining!" 

That was something you appreciated Wrecker for. He complained about very little. He was often optimistic and in high spirits. Happy to do almost anything he was asked so long as he was with his brothers and didn't have a want of food. All that manual labor makes a person hungry, so it doesn't surprise you to find him snacking on something if he's left to his own devices and the thought comes over him. 

Actually, in fact, you hadn't just walked past his house on the way to the park: you briefly came inside so he could throw a few things into the cooler bag he takes to his job sites (he, Hunter and Cross bounced between at least two or three sites if Cody needed a few more hands for something on a particular day) and have a little picnic on the grass with you. You both took care to be quiet so as not to disturb his brothers. Wrecker did however bump into Crosshair in the kitchen, who took one look in the lunch bag and said "Unless you plan on drinking that kriffing disgusting lake water, I suggest you take something to drink, too." before he snatched a few slices of cold pizza from a box in the fridge and shuffled off. 

Not much of a talker, Crosshair. But that's okay. 

"How's this for a spot?" you ask, coming across a bench after walking roughly one half of the man-made lake. Walking and talking with Wrecker was enjoyable, the late-summer air carried by a gentle breeze across the water was cool and soothing here. Not too far from the water's edge, and you could hear some of the lake life, little frogs, croaking and singing in the reeds and lily pads from here. Wrecker nods approvingly, setting down the cooler bag. "Perfect! Here, made this for you. Sorry if it's a little smushed or if I forgot a condiment." 

He offers you a brown paper bag, and inside, you find your favorite sandwich you often throw together when you need a quick bite to eat. "Aww, you made this for me? Wrecker that's so sweet of you, thank you." You bite into it with eager anticipation, and it's definitely the way you like it. "Oh Maker," you moan blissfully, chewing slowly to savor it, "that's a good sandwich." Wrecker smiles bashfully as he takes a seat beside you on the bench, unwrapping his own sandwich. 

"Did I-?"

"No, not a single missing condiment." you tell him. Shyness and uncertainty turn to pride for the man beside you. 

"Oh, good! I made it kinda quick-like from memory so we could get goin' without bothering my brothers." He takes a bite of his own sandwich, and allows himself to chew thoroughly before he speaks again. "I, uh, I make everyone's lunch in the mornings. Except for Tech's sometimes, he's pretty particular about what he takes to his lab." 

You think back to what Tech's job is, but the proper name for it escapes you. "He works in the… preservation department at the local museum, right?" 

Wrecker bobs his head as he takes another bite of his sandwich, smaller this time. "Yeah. Works in at least three labs. Real smart. Like scary smart. He'd get bored if he worked in just one lab. And because I don't remember what lab he goes to on what days, he and I agreed it'd be best for him to make his own lunches most days. Oh, I almost forgot! Here!" He reaches into the cooler bag again and pulls out one of your favorite, non-alcoholic, bottled beverages. "That's for you. Can't have a proper picnic without something to drink." 

Wrecker's attention to detail, his memory of things he's learned about you only very recently, it all makes you feel giddy and warm inside that he's so incredibly attentive to your likes and dislikes. Other romantic partners, whether they had been potential or well and truly established, had not been quite so aware like Wrecker. What had taken others five months or more to remember that you did not like on your pizza, Wrecker had remembered in just five days. 

Hunter had called your name from the kitchen, ready to place an order from a little place new to town called Gregor's Grub-hub and asked what toppings you liked on your pizza, apologizing for not remembering what you had taken from the assortment of pizzas the crew offered to share with you when you stopped by Wrecker's job site to return the comically oversized jacket he loaned you. 

"That's okay, I remember!" Wrecker had declared from the couch as the two of you sat together, trying (and failing) to take this board game seriously. It was just so much more fun to bend the rules or try stacking all the game pieces. Whatever silly idea possessing the pair of you was swiftly entertained. 

It was just so easy to have fun with Wrecker. He found joy in the little things. And he cared so deeply about his brothers. He cared so deeply about you. 

You crack open the bottle, and together the two of you mock-toast to this late-night, lakeside summer picnic the pair of you took on a whim. You're so glad to be out here with him. Just the two of you in the light of the full, silver moon hung in the sky above this beautiful park, serenaded by the frogs and distant cicadas in the trees.

"Thanks Wrecker. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Wrecker laughs brightly, the sound as bubbly as the lapping waves of water against the shore, and as distinct as the ping from the phone in your pocket as your phone begins to blow up with news about the final episode of the season you originally planned to watch tonight. (Damn. Maybe the dashing rogue will pluck up the courage next season.) You can't even be mad about the spoilers. 

You're enjoying this rare evening together with Wrecker far, far too much to be annoyed about that. 

"Nice night for a date…" you murmur fondly, leaning into Wrecker's side as you sit on the bench and eat some of the other snack foods out of the cooler bag now that the two of you have finished your sandwiches. "... thanks for the late, lakeside picnic, Wrecker." You giggle softly when he shyly asks if you're okay with a little kiss on the cheek. He kisses the top of your head for good measure as well, emboldened by the smiles and giggles. "Yer welcome. We should do this more often." he says, looking out over the glimmering water with you. 

You should do this more often. Maybe the next time you come here, you can take him here in the sunlight and come feed the waterfowl on a day that his brothers could get by without his help. Crosshair didn't need help the clambering up onto the scaffolding so he could do his job as a roofer, but he often let Wrecker help him because it eased his brother's fear of heights, or the fear that Cross was going to fall from the scaffolding again after a really nerve-wracking incident, more rather. 

A strong gust of wind had ripped through the construction site before the structure had been secured against the frameworks, and his brother had lost his balance. Wrecker had been there to catch him in the nick of time. 

"Maybe it gets under my skin a little that my brothers make fun of me for my fear of heights," Wrecker admitted somberly to you in private shortly after the scare. "But I'd never willingly let my brothers fall. I'll always be there to catch them… if I can." 

Once the two of you have finished most of the food from the cooler bag, you diligently pack away all of your trash until you pass by another trash can. "Let's finish walking around the rest of the lake. Then let's maybe call it a night." you suggest. It's too nice a night not to. You just hope the city police don't come along and spoil the moment by suggesting that you need to leave, since park lock-up happens at 12:30. It's only midnight, and the rest of the lake won't take long to walk at a decent pace. 

Common opinion is that some of the force can be overly stern, even how the chief of police is characterized as "heartless", but you've come to understand that these officers with red police cruisers (an unusual color choice) are decent men. They're just chronically overworked. You feel for them, now. They're only doing their jobs, however unpopular it might be. 

Thankfully, where you'll complete your full circuit of the lake with Wrecker is not too far from one of these entrance and exit gates that are found along the wall of the gated park. 

Joking and laughing with Wrecker once again puts a pep in your step, now that the two of you are comfortably full and content with the late-night meal. 

Wrecker suggests walking a little closer to the water, just before you leave. Give the lake a closer look, maybe see if he can't get a picture of one of the frogs for Tech. "He could probably tell us all about 'em! Tech loves that kinda stuff… sharing what he learns with people." Wrecker says with a grin as he quickly snaps a photo of a plump frog resting on a lilypad. He's carefully crouched on the edge of the bank in order to get it. You creep down closer to the waterline so you can take his phone for him so he can use both hands to pull himself back up the slightly steep bank. The water is deep here, and you're both hoping to avoid falling in.

"Here, I got it." you offer, holding out your hand. 

You slip on a slick patch of grass and mud as you collect his phone, and as luck would have it, the sandal slips off as you stumble and it falls into the lake with a splash.

Wrecker had caught you before you fell in as well. "Gotcha, cyare! Are you okay?" 

"I'm f-fine," you assure him with a tiny stammer, glad you hadn't dropped his phone or fallen in. "Just lost my shoe. Thanks for catching me." 

"Of course, cyare. Didn't think I'd only be there to catch just my brothers, didja?" He's teasing, of course, but the question makes you flush. No, of course you didn't think that. 

Wrecker peers down into the water, trying to see if he could spot your sandal. Man, why didn't you change into something with laces? You'd thought about it and everything, but you were just so excited about spending time with Wrecker that you dashed out the door without giving it a second thought… 

A car door closes in the distance. It sounds like it's from a car parked near the gate. Uh oh. What time is it? 

"Wrecker, we need to go, I think the-" 

He's up to his elbow in the lake water, carefully swishing his arm around while seeing if he can't find your shoe. "Just a second, I'll find your shoe and then we can go cyare." Wrecker promises, trying to settle your nerves. He's so focused on being sweet and helpful that he doesn't hear or notice the officer starting down the path. 

"Wrecker, c'mon, it's okay. It's just a cheap little sandal, we really should go!" 

The way Wrecker is hunched over the water on his hands and knees in the dim light of the moon, the officer mistakes the position for a starting dive and he calls out in warning. "Hey-! There's no swimming in the lake!" 

Wrecker falls in with a great splash, startled. He surfaces shortly, the water up to his chest. Okay, maybe the water wasn't as deep as you thought. "I'm okay!" Wrecker splutters, coughing up lake water. "I found your sandal!" 

You turn to the officer now standing on the edge of the lake, glowering down disappointedly at Wrecker. "I'm so sorry, sir," you say, "he was just trying to get my shoe and then I think you startled him an- O-oh, Officer Fox! I didn't realize it was you, I'm so sorry!" Fox didn't realize it was you, either, turns out. He speaks your name with great surprise, then takes another look at the sopping wet figure carefully climbing out of the water with your wet, muddy shoe in hand. "Wrecker?"

"Yup!" 

Officer Fox removes his peaked cap and scratches his salt-and-pepper hair with a weary sigh. "... I thought the two of you were a couple of kids or something. Got a call from a "concerned citizen" about some "hooligan youth" in the park. Some busybody of an old man who's constantly inventing problems for me because he has his mind made up that I don't have enough to do…" 

You grimace sympathetically. "Mr. Sheev, again?"

"That old bat's still alive?" Wrecker asks disbelievingly. No one's quite sure how old Mr. Sheev is, but he looks like he's been dodging the grim reaper longer than it should be natural. 

There's a mutter from Officer Fox that sounds a lot like the word unfortunately before the cap is replaced and he has to do his job. 

"C'mon… park's locking up for the night, soon. And since you're wet," he nods to Wrecker, "and you're half barefoot," Officer Fox nods to you this time, "I'll give you a lift in the cruiser." 

Officer Fox takes you both back to Wrecker's place, watching the two of you from the car as you're huddled on the porch, wrestling with the ring of house keys. Darn things seem to make themselves invisible or slippery when they get the slightest inkling that you might be in a hurry to get inside. 

Wrecker says he'll have to mop up the water in a second, trying and failing at threading his house key into the lock with shaky fingers. Lake water was cold and he was soaked to the bone trying to do a kind thing by retrieving your sandal for you. 

Fox, the chief of police for the city, calls from the cruiser that Wrecker better get into some dry clothes soon, and not to feel bad about getting the seats wet. "Shit like this happens more than you think. I gotta ask Cody if he's the guy I gotta talk to about getting a proper walking path around the lake… as soon as I'm done with all this other kriffing paperwork. Goodnight." You help Wrecker get the key into the door and thank him for the lift. "You too, Officer Fox! Thank you again!" 

As the two of you try to squeeze inside, someone knocks over the coatrack bearing three high-vis vests and a crisp lab coat. "Whoops!" Oh stars, that clatter was sure to wake someone up… It was nearly one in the morning now. 

Wrecker's foot slips in the growing puddle of water, and trying to help him, or make sure that he's okay, you yourself trip over the coat rack and fall on top of him with a yelp. Once again, he breaks your fall, and tries to break the nervous tension with a corny joke after you both frantically apologize to one another. 

"Guess we're a couple'a angels if we keep fallin' for one another, huh, cyar'ika?" 

You can't help it. The joke is so silly and undeniably sweet coming from someone like Wrecker that if the coat rack, and then the two of you falling over and on top of one another didn't wake Wrecker's brothers, your laugh certainly would have. Four pairs of feet plod down the stairs at varying speeds, Hunter the fastest. He's fresh out of bed in nothing but a pair of red and black boxers, face wracked with confusion. Wrecker is soaking wet and smells like algae. And you're now damp after having landed on top of him. Hunter was told the two of you were just going for a walk, how the hell did his brother and his date end up getting wet?

"The kriff are you two doing on the floor?" Crosshair yawns from up the stairs. 

"And why are you wet?" 

You smile apologetically up at Hunter, "Wrecker fell in the lake trying to get my shoe for me. I was trying to keep his phone dry after he took a picture of a frog for Tech and-" Your eyes dart further up the stairs when you hear Tech excitedly ask "A frog?" from behind Cross, and you spot the brother who must be Echo behind him. He's a little paler and his face is gaunt compared to the others. He looks rather disoriented and anxious after you probably woke him up so unexpectedly. 

"Oh… hello there; are you Echo?" 

He nods timidly. "I am. And you are…?" He seems surprised to hear you know his name, but he doesn't seem to recognize you. You wait as he carefully makes his way down the stairs, one step at a time. The horrible accident Echo had suffered from was some time ago, but three of his limbs haven't quite been the same since. Minor weakness and numbness, to your memory. You waited until he was closer to put out the appropriate hand to introduce yourself with a polite smile. "Nice to meet you. Officially." Echo manages apologetically. "Sorry, guess I didn't recognize you because I've only ever heard Wrecker talk about the person he's started dating." 

You smile reassuringly at Echo, and flash Wrecker a cheeky look when you hear he's been talking about you to his brothers. You're sure he would look just as flushed as you if the light from the kitchen wasn't so dim. 

"I'll get a mop and clean up the water," Wrecker promises Hunter when his brother takes a look at the floor by the front door after Wrecker picks up his cooler bag and dumps all the trash into the kitchen's garbage can. 

Hunter shrugs lazily. "Nah, don't bother. You two should go shower or something. I'll take care of it. Besides falling in the lake - apparently - was your walk nice?" 

"Oh yeah!" Wrecker says with a giant grin that you return when you share a look. "I think the two of us might do it again soon. This time without losing any shoes." 

You can only nod and laugh softly in agreement. The next time you go on one of these late-night walks with Wrecker, if this becomes a regular thing in your relationship, you are definitely going to start wearing better shoes with laces.

Note from Frost: The idea of Palpatine being a nosy cranky senior citizen who calls the police over "hooligan youths" having fun came out of nowhere but it tickled me too much not to include it lmao. (Poor Commander Fox...)

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us Chapter 7

Chapter list : [ 1 ][ 2 ][ 3 ][ 4 ][ 5 ][ 6 ]

Summary: Octavia has a lot of feelings, mentions of family obligations and stress.

As always I want to extend my love to my bestie and beta @micropoe10 💞 without her I wouldn't be posting anything.

Inspired by @cheesy-cryptid 's art 💖

Tags:

@justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus

@tragedybunny @davenswitcher @wayward-hel

Chapter 7 "these words are stones "

As Octavia and Gale cross the threshold of her house, she closes the door and leads him down to her couch. He splayed out with his arms hanging behind his head. Gale looks up at her, his face still covered in a faint flush. "I almost said something I shouldn't have to him, but I don't know why you don't want to tell him."

"It's complicated, Gale. Let's not talk about that now, okay? You need to rest." She sits down next to him and places a hand on his chest. "Lie down, I'll get you a blanket." She starts to stand when Gale holds her back, their hands still together. "I like you. You're the only person who knows what it's like…to grow up like we did."

His breathing starts to slow, sleep coming closer. "When you kissed me…Gods that must have been what it felt like to be one with Mystra…" he looks at her, a lump growing enormous in her throat.

"Gale..I..you're tired..you're not making sense. Let's talk about this in the morning?" His face falls a little and he kisses her hand, still in his. "You are incredibly beautiful. Thank you for taking care of me." He sighs and slowly falls asleep with his hand still holding hers.

She slowly pulls away and grabs him a blanket. After covering him up, she quietly takes off her shoes and exits to her back garden. Her dress drags on the floor so she picks up a bit and sits at the metal table she has outside.

The whole night crashes down on her. Everything is too much, between the crowd, having to push aside her anxiety to perform for work, being dolled up like someone else wants her to, Gale being Gale, and even Astarion. Why did she always feel so intimidated around him? Why can't she trust him like Gale says? She lowered her head onto the cold metal table and started to cry.

The tears spilled out like an overflowing teapot. All the stress she had felt these last two months finally explodes throughout her body. She's fully enveloped in the sense of self doubt, tears and sobs rolling out from deep within. Her breaths catch as she releases all of this negativity, when she hears the front gate creak. She wipes her face quickly trying to gather herself, the adrenaline overtakes the sadness she feels. Turning, she sees a familiar shadow come through the line of shrubbery.

Astarion is standing at the edge of her gate, he looked like a raccoon when it's caught rummaging through her garbage. "Are you fucking kidding me? Did you follow us back to my house like some creepy fucking stalker?!" Octavia speaks in a hushed, angry tone. She dashes over and pulls him towards the stone bench at the back of her yard.

"Explain. Now." She crosses her arms at the man sitting down in front of her, he clears his throat "I wanted to make sure you both got home safely. You two were acting unlike yourselves and.." he mutters under his breath, Octavia frowns "What was that? I'm a little hard of hearing at the moment."

Astarion furrows his brows and has a sideways frown, he crosses his arms and practically growls out "I was worried about you. Mostly you, but Gale too…he got really fucked up. More than I've ever seen. Made me ...concerned." his shoulders droop and he puckers his lips some. "Well, aren't you going to say something? Thank me? Anything?"

Octavia drops her arms putting them at her waist, "Thank you for what? Breaking into my garden? That was locked by the way. How did you even know to do that?" They stared at each other for a moment, but he was the one to crack first.

"You haven't earned the right to stare at me like that." He teased, as if trying to ease the tension a bit. She chuckles and rolls her eyes. "Seriously, what the hells are you doing here? Why did you come here? And don't do the thing you do where you're all charming and distracting and don't actually answer my questions." His smirk evolving into a playful grin "You think I'm charming?" She sits next to him, smacking his shoulder. "Answer me, or you sleep in my living room next to Gale."

Astarion looks at her confused, "In your living room? Gods, I didn't think you were that impatient." She stares at him, slightly annoyed, she scoffs "Nothing happened. Well, he told me he likes me…but I'm not really sure how to tell him I'm not…" she groans loudly and begins to tear up again.

Astarion notices and softens his voice "Octavia, what's wrong?" She faces him unable to stop the flow of her tears. "Little love, whatever could be the matter?" He reaches up and wipes her tears, resting his hand on her cheek. "I just don't want to let anyone down. I like Gale, I do…just not how he wants me to."

Astarion takes his handkerchief and hands it to Octavia. She wipes her nose and sniffles. "I'm so afraid of disappointing him, or you, or my family. They expect so much from me because of who we are…all the shit I went through because of who my godsdammed great great whatever grandmother was..it sucks. I just want to do things for me. For my enjoyment, not anyone else's. It feels like I'm nobody, just another person working in the background where I'm most comfortable."

They sit not speaking for what seems like forever, "You are Octavia. Eloquent, whip smart, hilarious, that's who you are to me. My favorite assistant. My left where Gale is my right. You two invigorate me. Without you tonight would never have happened. Even with all this other stuff." He moves his hand in circular motions in between the two of them, resting it on top of hers afterwards. "The only way you will disappoint me is if you do this to yourself. You're too damned good for that, dear."

She moves her hand a little, lacing her fingers into his. She hears his breath catch, as he tightens his grip a little. "You are wonderful." His voice sounds small and vulnerable, this is the most open she's ever seen him. Right now, even behind the glasses she can sense his gaze, now might be a good time to ask the question she never got the answer to back when they first met.

"You never told me why you always wear dark glasses indoors or at night. I mean I know you're an elf and can see in the dark, but isn't that a lot of work?" Astarion laughs, he rolls his lips in and bites one a bit. "Can't I just be a slave to fashion, love? Does everything need an explanation?"

"Fine. Have it your way." She untangles her hand from his. "You know, usually when people tell you some personal shit, it's nice to trust them a little to open up and not be such a rude…ugh nevermind I gotta go check on Gale." She gets up and turns to walk away, but he holds her wrist, tugging gently to stop her. "Hold on- I'm sorry…I just…it's hard for me to trust people. I don't generally share things with them no matter how friendly we are."

He glares up at her, from this angle she can see his eyes a little bit more. His lids were hooded, eyelashes a deep shade of gray, almost black. It didn't help that they were in the darkness of the night, or else she would be able to properly see. "Do you trust me?" Octavia looks down at him, she swears he has an almost pleading look to him, she swallows "Of course, Astarion. I trust you." He relaxes somewhat and speaks softly, "Do you think you can trust me a little further?"

The way he can soothe over whatever he did and make himself seem like the wronged party was impressive. Octavia just wanted to go lay down at this point, it was late and she was done with pretending to care. "Yes. I'll trust you as long as you don't do anything to show me that it was a mistake. Like follow me home."

She chuckles softly to tease him. She lets go of his hand "For now though, I'm going to bed. It's very late and I need to get into something warmer, I'm fucking freezing. Good night, Astarion, make sure you put the padlock back on the gate. I noticed it wasn't working all of a sudden." They laugh and she walks away from him. As she gets close to her door she looks behind her, darkness drapes around as he's vanished into the night. "Really hope I didn't just make a giant mistake."