#Knowing how badly I wish I could grow a beard and everything!

[heir-apparently]

How fucking dare you

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 8

Summary: Forced to face their feelings, neither the Darkling nor his wife dare to speak them out loud. Influenced by Genya’s words, Y/N starts to wonder about her husband’s past.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of alcohol, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven  

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As a young girl, Y/N often daydreamed about her first time. She believed it would be with a kind man who’d move mountains to find her if she called his name. Reality was quite different – this man wasn’t kind, but he’d burn the world for her.

Whether he realized it, she saw through him easily. The Darkling is a symbol, the fear surrounding his name is all for show because he’s not evil. In fact, she’d go as far as say he’s redeemable. Anyone capable of love is capable of being saved and while she didn’t know what he needed saving from, her heart told her he’ll need her. And she knew he cared, she felt it in the way he held her in that tent, and again in the way he’d touch her when he had all the power just the night before.

Moving her head toward the other side of the bed, Y/N looked at her sleeping husband. His lashes are long, thick and dark, a beard that tickled her neck adorning his face. Asleep, his cheekbones were not as sharp, his face much more welcoming and relaxed. He didn’t seem as the formidable foe she imagined him to be.

Aleksander laid on his side, facing her. Pursing her lips, Y/N allowed her eyes to roam over him. His broad chest had a small area of dark, curling hair. His muscles are made large, shapely mounds. His arms are capped by a round, firm muscle. Biting her lower lip, her eyes continued down to his hard, flat stomach with faint lines forming separate areas of muscles, making her swallow thickly. It was only after a moment that her eyes went lower. What she saw did not seem so powerful as it felt the previous night, but as she watched, his manhood began to grow.

She gasped and her eyes flew back to his. He was awake, watching her intently with a smirk, his eyes growing darker by the moment. No longer was he the gentle man she had awakened to, but a man of passion, the general who showed her he was just as capable of leading a woman in the bed as he was of leading an army on the field.

Y/N tried to move away but Aleksander still held her trapped by her hair that strayed on his side, under his back. What was worse, she didn’t even want to fight him. Y/N recalled her plans for him clearly; but this was more than a plan she carelessly implemented. Everything was different now when she had the memory of his body and the pleasure he infused her with when he made love to her. Could that term even be applied to them, she wondered. Did he see it as making love or simply satisfying his needs?

“Stubborn wife,” he whispered and the tone of his voice made chills run along her arms. It’s more than the tone he used or the look of his dark eyes that had her insides turning, but the words he had spoken…it almost felt like a term of endearment coming from him.

Grimacing, she rolled her eyes at him, “Dreadful husband.”

Pursing his lips, he seemed amused rather than insulted.

She was right, their relationship has changed.

Irrevocably.

Last night she had thought she learned all there was to know about love between a man and a woman, but now she thought, perhaps she knew very, very little. There was much more to learn from this man and of this man and how to use that knowledge for her own gain, but right now? She just wanted to let herself go. She wanted to enjoy his company. For once, he was good-natured, playful even. She felt genuinely happy in their little bubble.

For a moment, Y/N wished to stay there. She wished he could always look at her as he is now.

She looked at him, his hair still a mess in the bright morning sunlight. She watched him intently, perplexed how he could look more handsome and more human than she’d ever seen him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He runs his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He’s better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him. How could she be when his fingers have delved lower, pushing inside her?

Gasping, she smiles against his lips. “Genya will be here soon”, she warns him.

"I don't fucking care", he insisted as he crashed into her, his arms wrapping around her like a cage she never wished to escape from. He brought his mouth on hers, inhaling her, "Do you even know what it feels like to be around you?! I can't", he paused as his arms drew away from her and she shuddered as he took the warmth they provided. With bruised lips, she watched as he ran his hand through what used to be perfectly tousled hair. Disheveled, he turns to her, "I can't breathe around you."

She chuckles at him, "Well, I am breathtakingly beautiful."

Rolling his eyes, the Darkling shakes his head, "Well, you're not unattractive. I'll concede on that."

She ran her hands over his back as he lowered his head to her neck, running his tongue along the pulsating beat of her carotid, the only friend he had in her – her pulse couldn’t hide how enamored or exhilarated he made her feel. Instinctively she leaned her head back, her breathing turning deeper, quicker.

When his lips and tongue touched her breasts, she nearly cried out. She thought perhaps she might die under such torture. Trying to pull his head back to her mouth failed as he gave a deep, guttural laugh that made her shiver, her insides turning with the sweet melody and her heart? Her heart felt warm, big and incredibly full.

Maybe he did own her.

A knock on the door had interrupted their bliss as Y/N stiffened, looking at the door in slight panic. If someone saw them right now, no one would doubt their marriage was a successful love match. They seemed happy, truly in love. That’s not how it was meant to be.

“Someone doesn’t value their life”, he grumbled under his breath. “GO AWAY!”

Clasping a hand over his mouth, she chuckled. “Who is it?!”

“General?” Ivan’s voice faded her smile instantly.

Even with Aleksander’s hands cupping her bottom, his body covering her and the door being shut, Y/N felt ashamed as if she was bare in front of the entire world.

“Unless the world is burning, leave me alone!” Pecking Y/N’s lips, he smirked, “I never get a peaceful morning anymore.”

Come to think of it, Y/N never found him in the bed when she woke up. This was the very first night they spent together and he stayed by her side. Considerate was never a word she’d use describing him before, but he is considerate, kind and incredibly cautious when it comes to her. It made her heart sink.

Hearing no word from Ivan, Aleksander’s hand moved. Caressing the inside of her thighs, he made her shake in desire. Holding her breath, she bit her lower lip. Still sore from the night before, she felt her stomach twist as he lined himself up with her entrance once more. Pushing himself inside, he captures her lips as she cries out. The pleasure is undeniable, but she couldn’t deny there was pain too. She clutched at him, her legs pressing around his waist as she rose to meet each thrust. Sweet torment he had inflicted felt as if it would split her in two - one Y/N to plot his demise and the other who’d never let him leave her bed.

Finally, when she was sure her heart would explode, she felt the pulsing throbs that released her and soon after, Y/N felt him speed up and his own release followed. Collapsing on top of her, Aleksander held her so close that she could hardly breathe. In that moment she didn’t really care if she ever did breathe again.

Aleksander didn’t move, still buried deep inside her as if she is his saving grace. It’s insane to think he could fuck her into submission and feelings. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she developed feelings for him, but that realization created doubts. Eventually, something will have to break – and the thought of hurting him suddenly felt too much to bear.

“Are you alright?” He moved her hair out of her face, remaining on top of her as if she’s a conquered territory he refused to leave.

Swallowing thickly, she nods. “Why aren’t you moving?”

Eyes widening, the Darkling felt heat rush to his face. He was trying to be sweet, to show her it was more than a quick fuck. It was indescribable for him – a dawn after a long night he’s lived in. No woman ever lessened the loneliness inside his heart and then she waltzed into his life. He couldn’t imagine living without her again. She was the northern star in his dark sky and he never wanted to leave.

“I should see Ivan about earlier”, he murmured, nearly wincing as he pulled out. She wrapped herself up in the sheets again, her eyes wide as she stared ahead, thinking about how badly she’s already failing her mission.

Frowning as she shifted, Y/N felt Aleksander’s semen leave her. She cleared her throat, her eyes watering. She felt disgusted with herself, like she needed her skin rubbed off with scalding hot water and peeled off if that didn’t work. She could feel him, smell him on every inch of her skin and the worst of it all? She loathed just how cold she felt when his arms weren’t wrapped around her. She absolutely detested how giddy her heart felt when she saw the shit-eating grin on his face as he brought her to climax.

“When will we visit the armies by the fold?” She asked, switching into the woman she is instead of the woman she’s molded into by his lips.

Impassive, he looked back at her as he worked on the buttons of his shirt. “Why? Don’t believe I’ve kept my word?”

It unnerved her just how cold his voice felt, how impersonal. Standing, she wrapped the nightgown around her body. Taking his kefta in her hands, she held it open for him to slip into.

His eyes flicker from the kefta to her, as if he’s confused as well. It felt odd not knowing their place now. Their previous dynamic was easy to settle into, bickering felt like second nature. Conversing without spewing venom brought unfamiliar discomfort mostly because they’d much rather return to the bed behind them. Leaving that room carried an unspoken possibility of their time together being nothing but a fluke – a onetime deal. The outside world carries responsibilities, the kind that places them on opposite sides of the war.

“Thank you”, he turns around, allowing her to help dress him. Wives do that, he realized. Loving wives help their husbands dress just as often as they help them undress. Husbands do the same for their wives – though he much preferred the undressing part.

He kissed her brow unexpectedly, eyes flickering to her trembling lips as they passed a surprised gasp. “I know you want to see the results on a field, but rest assured I’ve kept my word.” Licking his lips, he reached for a glass from behind her. Pouring himself a glass, he watched her gnaw on her lower lip. For once, the ice queen showed there are emotions inside her capable of more than just disdain.

Breaking out of her daze, she cleared her throat. “I prefer to have confirmation”, she remarked.

Snorting, he looks up in frustration. He wanted to grab her by the throat as he would with any other human who’d dare challenge him, question him. In his mind, he pinned her to the bed, his hands wrapped around her delicate little wrists. ‘Don’t play games with me’, he’d say, ‘Don’t ever think you’re capable of that.’ He wanted so badly to treat her the same, as an enemy, but she had done something to him. No matter how hard he wished he could fight it, something inside him came to life – his heart beats unburdened by the shadows, for her. It was always going to be her.

“I guess I’m asking you to trust me”, he looked at her with a softness he visibly struggled with. His hand griped the glass far too tightly for it to fool her. He was hurt by her insinuation and she didn’t know how to respond.

“Aleksander.” Calling him by his first name for the first time felt so natural, but terrifying as his eyes lit up when it crossed her lips.

He shuddered. “Say it again”, he commanded, his eyes darkened as he pressed his lips together.

The look on her face would surely haunt him for an eternity. She was shocked, maybe even frightened. She didn’t mean to call him by his name, she had made a mistake and he could read it on her face.

She spun, fleeing into the bathroom. She ran from him like he had come to steal her soul. He thought about chasing after her, but it would be futile. She would return on her own. She lost the game, she was his. He swallowed his whisky and smiled. Perhaps the way his heart fluttered at the sound of his true name passing her lips should have been a sign he lost the game too, but he didn’t give it a second thought.

She is his.

Once he left, she did exactly as she wished – she scrubbed herself clean of any remainders of him. He’ll walk around with her scent clinging to him, but she will not be branded his. Though her hips bear his markings, she felt satisfied they were easily covered with a kefta.

“You don’t have to say it”, Genya raised an eyebrow at the shadows of Kirigan’s fingertips across her friend’s hips.

“Say what?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, her heart picking up pace.

Smirking, Genya lowered her voice, “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N, exhaled audibly through her nose. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Ha!” Genya clapped her hands, “We are winning today!”

Raising her eyebrows, Y/N turned her undivided attention to an overly excited Genya. “Care to explain?”

“Well”, she shrugged innocently, “I may have found us a new ally.”

Stunned, Y/N sat on the edge of the bathtub. “Who?”

“David”, Genya exclaimed.

“Isn’t he Kirigan’s little…pet?”

Knitting her eyebrows, Genya huffed, “No! He’s a brilliant man and he believes in equality and a brighter future.”

“But can we trust him with the secret?”

Swallowing thickly, Genya paused. Inhaling deeply, she nods. “I’d vouch for him.”

“I need concrete proof”, Y/N sighs, “This isn’t going to end well for us if he decides to spill everything to Kirigan!”

Rubbing her temples, Y/N felt as if the pressure inside her head would cause her brain to burst. It’s pressing in, choking every good idea she’s ever had.

“What would happen if he did know?” Genya crouched before her. With her hands on Y/N’s knees, Genya sighed. “Maybe he’d be receptive too.”

Snorting, Y/N couldn’t believe how naïve Genya is. “No. He’d be too angry to see the big picture.”

It didn’t matter that he’s begun colonizing Y/N’s heart or that every inch of her skin craved the touch of his hand. It felt as if she were invincible when he stood beside her, as if he had made her fireproof. No scar hurt when he kissed her, no grief was too difficult to bear when he looked at her.

“Damn it”, Y/N covered her face, “I want to believe in him, I do.” She couldn’t help but wonder if her feelings are the aftermath of the night he saved her life or the night of ecstasy he had given her. Is it really genuine emotion or did her heart move to her vagina?

“So believe”, Genya encouraged. A sympathetic smile adorned her full lips, her eyes kinder than before.

“How can I ever trust him when he’s got a superiority complex regarding humans? He’s never going to willingly protect one!”

“He did with you”, Genya pressed her lips into a thin line. “You’re paranoid because you are afraid allowing yourself to see the good in him might actually make you love him.”

And she is. She’s afraid to love him or let him love her. What would be the point? In the end, they’re too different.

“Talk to David again”, Y/N stood, sniffling. “I’ll head to the library.”

Genya raised an eyebrow. “Library?”

The first casualty of war is innocence and Y/N had none left. She was once called ‘angel’ by her father, by her comrades in the army too. She was the epitome of a pure heart who would sacrifice itself for others. She didn’t feel like an angel anymore, but she will play the part. No one expects an angel to set the world on fire.

“Yeah”, Y/N breathes out. “I want to look for something.” Truth be told, she wanted to research Aleksander and his lineage.

If the dark heretic is from his bloodline, she needed to know everything about him, about the hearts of those he came from. If she’s ever going to consider her husband as an ally, she has to know him – all of him. If she asked, she worried he’d cover up the darkest parts of him. He’d deem her too human to understand, too fragile to know all the horrors that tie into who he’s become.

It was time to find out if she could trust Aleksander.

=============================

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Part 9

[buckyownsmylife]

So I Take What I Want - Jake Gyllenhaal smut (ft. Tom Holland)

The one where Jake finally lets Tom watch him fuck you

Warnings: smut, cuckold!tom, mean!jake, voyeurism, overstimulation, possessiveness, cuck humiliation, name-calling, p in v, dacrophylia, light choking

Word count: under 2k

A/N: thank you to my lovely @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for reading this over to me. As you might already know, this is part of my do it universe, and although it can be read by itself, I highly recommend you go read the other stories first.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The first thing I remembered was feeling a gentle kiss pressed to the back of my hand, gently awakening me as two hands softly cradled my face, brushing the hair away from it.

“How are you feeling, beautiful?” Blinking a few times, I was able to focus on the familiar bearded face that was patiently waiting for my answer, prompting me to try to sit up so I could give him one.

“I’m alright,” I assured him, although every single muscle in my body ached. It was a good king of hurt though, the kind that you had after a great workout session… which I supposed was more or less what had happened.

“Good,” Jake smiled, kissing me unexpectedly, and my eyes widened before I closed them to accept his gesture. Sure, this was still a bit surprising - I associated such an intimate act as something to be shared between two persons with actual feelings for each other, but after everything Jake had done to my body, I couldn’t very well feel shy about him pressing his lips against mine. “Because I need to have you again.”

I gasped when I felt his hands yank my ankles so I was on the edge of the bed, my legs dangling from it. “W-Wait,” I asked as his hands kept me spread open for his gaze. I wanted to cover myself in an effort to hide from precisely that, especially since I could feel his spent threatening to fall from me, drip onto the hardwood floors beneath us. “What about Tom?”

Jake snickered, eyes still fixated on the apex of my thighs, before finally raising them to meet mine. “He’s right there,” he informed me, nodding towards the other side of the room, where there were a couple of lounge chairs by the wall.

Craning my neck to look behind, I found my boyfriend sat in one of them, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he took in the image of me being slowly spread open by his best friend. I took notice of how his cock strained against his pants and how once Jake was fully in, Tom leaned his whole body towards us, like he wanted to be as close as possible to the action.

Jake climbed onto the bed, adjusting me so I’d be underneath his warm body and started moving. My head swirled with the overwhelming emotions and sensations coursing through my body. While the man on top of me - and inside of me - worshiped every inch of my skin with his tongue and beautiful lips, the man I loved - the man staring at us from a distance - seemed to be stuck between pain and pleasure, desperate to keep watching and pause the scene at the same time.

“Tell him,” Jake panted in my ear, calling out for my attention. I already knew he was a sucker for it, already knew he didn’t like me to focus on anything else than him and the way his cock made me feel as it dragged along my walls.

What I didn’t know, however, was what he wanted me to say. I was fucked out and sensitive, yet still taken to the edge of desire. I couldn’t think, only feel. The only thing I truly wanted at that second was to keep climbing higher and higher until I had met bliss once more, and I knew I’d never get there if Jake stopped moving because he was unsatisfied with my answer.

Thankfully, he seemed to be in a giving mood. His nose rubbed against my throat as he kept pounding me, his words pressed against my skin, “Tell him what you tell me when we’re alone.”

I froze. Not even he would be that cruel, would he? But… maybe Tom would like it? I really couldn’t think. And in the silence that followed, I knew Jake’s mean dominant demeanor would grow to fill it, even before his dark chuckle resonated across the room.

“Don’t be shy,” he mocked, gripping my cheeks and shaking me still somewhat gently (for what I was expecting of him). “Tell him how you beg for my cock like a fucking whore.” And still, I remained silent. Well, that wasn’t accurate at all, actually. Moans and whimpers flowed freely out of my lips, taking over the words Jake longed to hear so badly.

“Fine,” he relented. “Perhaps you need to be closer to your beloved.” I didn’t understand what he meant until his cock left me, making me whine like a wounded beast. His chuckle didn’t sound mocking this time, but the entire situation made it seem like that to me.

“C’mon,” he smacked my ass as I finally made my way out of bed, utterly confused about what he meant until he took me by the arm and dragged me all the way across the room, until I was standing just before my boyfriend. “Let me teach him how to really please you.”

A shiver went down my spine as I realized what was his plan all along. I gasped when I felt his hand pushing down on my lower back, making me fall over the arm of the chair where Tom was resting.

Before I could even adjust myself, Jake resumed his thrusts, even more punishing and quick than before. All the while, my boyfriend was just there, staring at me with wide eyes, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing - even though it was something he himself had told me that he wanted.

A hand covered the one with which I held the chair, and I looked up to meet Tom’s soft brown ones. He smiled - it was a small, tentative smile. A smile that seemed to say, ‘this is a bit too much, but I’m okay. Are you okay?’

How could I tell him that I was beyond that? Would that be crossing a line? All I knew was that Jake’s cock was filling my abused pussy perfectly, hitting that spot deep inside of me, making my eyes roll to the back of my head, and that was all I could focus on.

Until my hands were captured and pulled behind my back, forcing me to separate from Tom once more. Tom looked confused, but I knew what this was. I already knew Jake was possessive, he hadn’t even tried to hide it, but I think until that second, I had allowed myself to believe that at least in front of my actual boyfriend he’d relent.

I was wrong. Instead, Jake sat down on the bed once more, spearing me open with his cock, forcing my legs to stay spread for Tom’s view. It was so fucking deep, much deeper than I was used to. The pleasure and sensitivity from my previous orgasms became too much.

Tears started streaming down my face, and upon seeing that, Tom’s voice resonated in our bedroom. “Jake, stop.” He’d never seen me cry for anything other than sadness and pain, but this was something more.

This was bliss. And Jake knew it, so he let Tom’s pleas go unanswered, his big hands forcing my hips to keep riding him as he mocked. “Oh, tell him, sweetheart. Do you want me to stop?”

But I couldn’t speak. All that left me were loud whines - whines that apparently terrified Tom because he insisted, now looking at me, “please tell him to stop, please.” Jake’s fingers found my clit, making me shudder in his arms.

The moment felt too real, too heavy. I didn’t know what Tom was referring to anymore. Did he want Jake to stop fucking me because he thought I was hurting, or was he the one hurting from seeing me getting fucked by his best friend?

He didn’t say, so all I could do was answer the question Jake had made. I managed to spit out a “N-no,” shocking Tom, his wide eyes making his surprise clear. Behind me, Jake just laughed.

“That’s right, tell him how happy you are. Tell him how needy you are for my cock.” I was so fucking sensitive, but I was relishing in it. I was not used to having such long sex sessions. My nights with Tom were always satisfying, but they were short - and I think that was something he was thinking about too, as he watched me fuck myself on Jake.

“She becomes such a whore when I’m near,” Jake informed my boyfriend. “Well, I guess you’re seeing it now.” Just then, he covered my throat with one of his hands, squeezing a bit, not enough to fully choke me, but enough to make it hard to breathe and have my pussy clamping down on him.

Jake’s P.O.V.

“Oh, fuck,” she cursed, making me grin behind her shoulders. “Oh, Jake…” My eyes were focused on Tom’s, making sure he was taking in the entire scene, the way she was the one who was really controlling it, fucking herself on me while I just held her up. The slip of my name from her lips embarrassed her though, so she move her hands over her eyes, much to my displeasure.

“No, don’t cover your face,” I ordered, taking her wrists and pulling them behind her back. “Let him see you. Let him see how well you take me.” Her pussy clenched around me once more, undeniably showing just how aroused she was at her boyfriend watching her giving herself to another man.

It had me moaning, fingers burying deeper in her supple skin, my hunger for her insatiable. “Yeah, you made a mistake letting me into your girlfriend’s pussy, pal.” I didn’t even look at Tom anymore, eyes too transfixed at the way her ass shook each time her hips met mine. “Now that I know what she feels like, I’m never gonna stop fucking her.”

He knew I meant it. I didn’t have to look at him to feel the fear rolling off of him in waves, egging me on. And it was all the more powerful because now that he had seen what she looked like succumbing to my desire, he would forever be scared that she would give in to me.

He could see the effect I had on her just as well as I could feel it. The juices running down her thighs, the gasps of pleasure, the way her fingers scratched on my arm that held her by the throat.

It was very clear that she liked this. And knowing that only left me more insatiable. “I’m done desiring her from a distance, wishing I was buried in this delicious cunt,” I warned my friend, not knowing if he’d believe me or attribute this entire confession as part of the scene. Either way was good enough for me. “I have her now and I’m never letting her go.”

Raising my gaze to meet his, I made sure he was looking at me as I pronounced my final words. “I’m making your girlfriend my fucking bitch. My cum is all she’ll ever know.”

[meanscarletdeceiver]

Rusty and the Boulder and/or Rusty to the Rescue?

Thanks for giving two options—that's really considerate!

I'm gonna go for the second one. Of "Rusty and the Boulder," all I can say is that the best part is the ending. (That's one of my all-time favorite roasts, but in this case it's meant literally and neutrally. The Fat Controller, after an entire season of expanding and building new "attractions" every five episodes, turning his back on his latest project and musing "we should have never built on this part of the island"... that was quality stuff. 👌 Everything else I'd sooner wipe from my memory.)

Man, "Rusty to the Rescue" is definitely that episode where ignorance is bliss. For the most part, The Lore has enhanced my enjoyment of the early TTTE stories .

This is one of the few notable, shining exceptions. I wish I could un-know all the ways in which this episode makes no sense.

Coz, for all its inaccuracies... it IS the standout episode of season 4. It's stunning. If you let an RWS preference take this one away from you, then what's left as far as season 4 highlights? What else holds a candle to the intrigue and visuals and vibes in "Rescue": "Granpuff"? "Rock n' Roll"? "Special Funnel"?... I mean those episodes are all beautifully done but none of them alone could make this season iconic.

So. We just gotta shut down our rational brains and allow ourselves to love "Rescue"... which was no hardship at all, when I was a kid. S4 was where the show felt like it was growing the beard—all the suggestions of lore and history and backstory, all the new threats and dangers, the mingling of old characters with new characters who felt so different—and nowhere was that feeling stronger than here. This episode was KING.

Why do I keep using past tense? I may not be able to accept it as canon, but it still slaps.

"... a lonely part of the island where only the diesels went."

I rewound and watched this scene a thousand times. I wanted more content of this setting so badly.

"lol it's just Barrow" isn't really cutting it, sorry... too much realism, not nearly enough cool-ism

backing up and doing the highlight reel...

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

"I don't know. But I soon will!"

Penalizing it imaginary points right off the bat for an obligatory Thomas appearance that does nothing to help the coherence of this story. (Seems to be a "kindly hero baton pass" interaction? Like I see their reasoning but I wish I was their editor and could smite it out.)

Also, even as an American city kid, knowing nothing about RWS (or anything really), this whole plot device of Rusty taking it upon themselves to help some line solve their locomotive crisis by finding a "bluebell engine" just didn't really made sense. So random.

The Awdrys already missed the boat on the idea of the Sodor engines actively seeking out refugees to help (a. huge. loss! coz they would have!!); here Britt had a second chance at it and she swung and missed even more wildly, I think. I just wish the motives here had been different. There's something so incongruous about an engine being all "lol we need a tourist engine lol i'll go steal one from the scrapyard ig lol then i'll forget about all the others there forever... lol."

All this said, I also loved this opening for its Rusty characterisation? The standout character in S4, and RWS!Rusty, while a good sort, really can't quite compete with the TVS!Rusty who cheeks off Harold and who poses as a Shed and Sidings Inspection Diesel. Loved how Rusty is shown to already be comfortable with several different standard-gauge engines. Loved Rusty asking Driver what was wrong. Loved Rusty's good-natured laughter. Even Rusty's apparent detachment from the seriousness of the mission is endearing. Weird, of course... but I like weird.

Even today, I can't really dismiss Rusty as "too perfect" or anything. They've got such a strong sense of personality. They/them version of Plucky Girl trope, mostly. Smart, too. With a huge dose of poise. So self-possessed! You have no choice but to stan!

"So that's where I'll go."

Pretty blatant how it's piggybacking off its most spectacular S3 episode... but also really clever. Gotta give it up. Props.

Also, I do now appreciate that, though they butchered the Stepney book to hell and back (let's be honest, most of the Stepney book is too painfully "edutainment-like" anyway, I don't mind them taking a hatchet to it and trying something better) they put in a nod to the original "Bluebells of England" scene by having Douglas and Percy here. (They have these two next to each other again in the next ep, when Stepney arrives at the Big Station.)

Also, funny as hell how Douglas and Percy are (reasonably) upset/borderline freaking out and Rusty's just doing their whole "indomitable pluck" thing. Rusty is a few pistons short of a full... um... something engineering something.

"But it was only the sounds of the lonely scrapyard."

We've had a million "scary smelter" episodes after this. But was this scrapyard shot ever really beaten? I challenge anyone to find an image more atmospheric than this one! ^

"Diesels, silent and still, lined up on guard."

This was so. freaking. scary? Doesn't help that they're all clearly clones of Known Characters. Or maybe all our diesel friends have a second, sinister life? Maybe they only pretend to like their steam engine coworkers? (These were my thoughts as a kid. Yes, I've always been good at freaking myself out. You barely had to work, to frighten me.)

Their scary "collective voice" didn't help at. all.

Great stuff. Fascinating. One of my kids screamed and ran out of the room their first viewing. 10/10 scene.

"Then I'll just go and inspect!"

Here my liege 👑 👑👑 you dropped these 👑👑👑

"A small engine with a tall funnel stood sad and alone in the shadowy siding. His driver was huddled in the cab, keeping him company."

The content here is heartwarming but I always had to laugh at the bizarre visual of him with his casual pose and dopey smile. Man looks like he's having a right cosy time and feelin' no pain!

"Do you like bluebells?"

Okay, but that "predator PoV" shot is brilliant. Geez.

Also, gotta level with ya—as a kid, I thought that trash on Step's left lamp iron was the head of a toy horse? I don't know why?? I never did get it???

It just went in the same pile as "all the weird-ass details in this story that don't make sense but that intrigue one so."

Definitely well-done that they stay pretty consistent in this episode with a separate narrow-gauge track for Rusty...

"Everyone worked fast."

🙄

Tho it's not like us RWS purists can blame the adaptation for the idea that abandoned, rusting steam engines just fire up from cold at the speed of plot...

Also, I LOVE any time the model series shows a glowing firebox. It's always worth standing up and applauding.

"Where is HE going?"

EDGE. OF. SEAT. STUFF.

Also, Rusty's response is made of win.

"Mission accomplished!"

Okay, there was ONE exception to the separate narrow-gauge track. But I think we can all agree it was an acceptable omission here for the sake of the shot. 😍

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

Obviously, the night-time scene is the show-stealer. But the ending ain't bad, either. Nothing too special, but not bad.

Rusty and Stepney both stood out in S4 as new characters who were so... unproblematic? no learning curve, no issues? They could just get on with things, do useful stuff, have adventures?

I feel Rusty wore this better than Stepney (probably due to all of Step's fanfare; it felt a bit much... no wonder Thomas was jealous, lol; it felt very New Series Thomasesque), but still, for this season? It worked. It was really refreshing after some of the spinning wheels and already-getting-overdone character cliches of S3.

At some point, however, the TVS giving us characters that didn't follow the "karma kicks you in the teeth" intro arc definitely contributed to the show losing the glorious edge that it had inherited from RWS.

Then again, I'm not gonna blame S4 Rusty for this. I don't get the impression that S6 and beyond took any cues from S4. They probably would have gone down that tamer path anyway.

So I can say without reservation: all hail the little maintenance diesel who is the coolest Almighty Janitor in any iteration of TTTE canon!

As for this episode, while it's an often-awkward cut-and-remix job that doesn't succeed at the too-many goals it set for itself, I think I can forgive anything for the shed-and-sidings inspection scene. 🧡💛

Also, based on this story alone, I could understand someone preferring TVS canon (at least the Classic Series or even the whole model era) to RWS canon. I don't feel that way myself but I definitely understand. They should have kept digging into the TVS-only lore of these early seasons—it's way cooler than literally everything about the Brenner era. Screw "railway realism" and "RWS fanservice"! Who needs that stuff when you can have random haunted lines, gravity-defying guardian boulders, and scary diesel-guarded scrapyards?

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x8 thoughts

I am so lucky that the creators of Ted Lasso decided to make this entire show specifically for me. #blessed

If last week felt like a bit of breathing room (albeit tense, poignant, character-progressing breathing room) with distinct narrative lines, this week’s episode was a chaotic yet tightly-written swirl of pain and hope and sadness! No neat subject headers for this one, y’all. Just my brain and heart in the inadequate form of a bulleted list. It is the medium available to me at this time.

I am going to remember the moment when Ted calls Sharon and tells her his father killed himself for the rest of my life.

(I could say a bunch of stuff about his face and what he says and how he tries to hide his tears from Beard right after and how insanely much I adore this character and ahhhhhhhh but I’m just going to leave that scene there in our collective memories.)

Jamie. JAMIE. Higgins has given some great advice about love on this show, but his musings about his up-and-down relationship with his own father were not helpful in the context of Jamie’s dad, who is an abusive piece of shit. I really adore that all of the main AFC Richmond staff members are realistically a bit hit-or-miss with their advice and life philosophies (some are mostly miss this season, of course).

And I am completely in awe of the moment when Jamie punches his father. The way he just stands there after Beard kicks his dad out of the locker room. The way you can hear a pin drop. And Roy—Roy who is learning in so many areas of his life about his influence on people, learning that the things he needs aren’t necessarily the same as the things other people need—is the one to cross the room and hug him. Hold him, really, with the tenderness Ted used when he hugged Rebecca outside the gala in 1x4. God.

I’ve thought a lot about how s1 was about giving people a soft place to land. There’s always an angel there when you need one. There’s always an opportunity to be kind. If you look for someone, you find them. If you look for the good in someone, you find the good. And as everyone works through their individual journeys in s2, that can’t always be the case anymore. But there are still so many moments of angels on this show, and it’s not about chance and serendipity and fate [not that it was about that in s1] but about the effort it takes to become someone who can be there for someone else. Or who can be there for yourself. I’m so proud of Jamie for physically fighting back against his father. I’m so proud of Roy for being the one who recognized what Jamie needed.

I have every feeling in the world about how Ted is almost totally frozen both times (s1 and s2) he witnesses Jamie’s father abusing him. In s1, he was still there for Jamie after, and I have every reason to believe he’ll be there for Jamie after this incident as well, but that frozen stance HURTS. He’s in so deep with his pain about his own father that it’s like he physically cannot snap out of it to act in the moment. It seems entirely outside of his control, and it breaks my heart, because Ted wants so badly to be a good father, a good coach, a good friend, a good partner, a good patient. He’s there for people in all kinds of ways, even in his current less-than-capable state. He takes care of Sharon post-concussion and even gets her a new bike! During the disastrous match at Wembley his coaching is ineffectual and everything is chaos but he’s the last one standing on the pitch! But this really awful thing keeps happening to Jamie and Ted is just…frozen in the face of it. Like one of those nightmares where you’re running in place.

The frozen-in-place nightmare also kind of applies to the way the total separation between Ted and Rebecca feels, too. I have never for a moment doubted the writers’ intentions in setting these characters up as soulmates on parallel journeys, and I’m actually really digging (on a story level) how disconnected they are right now. It is IMPRESSIVE that their absence in each other’s lives feels like such a glaring loss, one we cannot forget even as there are so many other things happening onscreen. It is 100% not just shipper goggles making me process information about Ted while thinking about Rebecca and information about Rebecca while thinking about Ted. I know there are a lot of really angry and frustrated people in the fandom right now (both T/R shippers and T/R antis and non-shipping fans who don’t get why s2 is different from s1) and while I understand being frustrated by choices characters make, and frustrated by the feelings the show makes us feel that we just want to feel more of or less of, I continue to agree with pretty much every narrative choice happening right now.

Agreeing with the narrative like this?! This is such a unique experience for me as a viewer—to feel like I’m on a ride that is at once absolutely wild and incredibly sensible and well-crafted, and to feel simultaneously completely invested and anticipatory and speculative but also totally willing to trust where it goes. I long for Ted and Beard to really talk. I long for Ted and Rebecca to stop missing each other. I long for Roy to have a serious conversation with Ted about what’s happening with him. I long for Keeley to find a vocation, something that drives her beyond her projects. I long for so many things! But I wouldn’t long for them if this show was less good. If the show was less good, I wouldn’t have a wish list a mile long because I wouldn’t be so attuned to the details and potential lurking in every scene. THIS IS SUCH A GOOD SHOW, I CANNOT HANDLE IT, I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

(To that end, a great deal of the Ted Lasso tag and so many Twitter reactions reactions to the show feel super stressful right now and I am kind of just trying not to look?! I love this fandom so much because of the amazing conversations that happen and because of brilliant fic and because there are some awesome people I never would have encountered were it not for this show. That little bubble is wonderful and I’d stay in this fandom no matter what in order to keep experiencing those things. But fans’ catastrophic reactions to every little thing that happens, every little choice a character makes that isn’t the “perfect” choice? The takeaway that the writers—on this show of all shows—wake up in the morning ready for another day of torturing shippers rather than another day of writing a beautiful story they genuinely want to write? I do not enjoy those parts at all. I would like to opt out of those parts. I’m having such a magical experience watching this show and talking about this show and listening about this show and writing about this show with a variety of people who feel all kinds of ways. I truly wish I could somehow transfer the energy of this experience onto all the people who are hating it right now. I don’t mind at all that people are having vastly different reactions to this show and are sharing their honest feelings, including the really angry ones (I can appreciate something and disagree with it!), and I get that sometimes the language of fannish reactions is intentionally, ironically hyperbolic. But there feels like this very serious trend of people legitimately thinking writers on this show are targeting shippers and have lost respect for their characters, and I just feel like an alien from another planet when I see that stuff. I guess I just feel like people make art because they want their art to be visible to other people and to themselves, but that doesn’t typically involve specifically catering to or torturing a subset of that audience?)

I am more fascinated by Sharon Fieldstone than ever before. I have been running through every single action with her and Ted so many times. The confirmation that she’s living in club-provided housing (that could not look more different from Ted’s club-provided flat). Ted clearly noticing the many bottles. Sharon’s face while she tries to casually recycle them. (Sharon could legitimately have a more problematic relationship with alcohol than Ted does, and I find that extremely interesting and am very curious to find out what happens there.) Sharon leaving him voice notes while she’s concussed, probably because she’d been thinking about him shortly before the accident. The way Ted calls her and does all the funny voices and it’s not frustrating like all the times he uses his silliness and allusions to deflect during their prior conversations because this time, those behaviors are just a part of him showing care for another person. The way they stretch each other, and Ted is still wrong about the things he’s been wrong about, but they both grow all the same.

While it is pretty much impossible for me to imagine that this show would include an actual romantic relationship between Ted and Sharon (it would be beyond unethical even if they could write it well, and Sharon in particular is so professional and committed to her work, and it would erase so much of the powerful message about the importance of seeking therapy from a professional who is not your friend or partner, and I would totally hate it), watching this episode was the first moment I had this queasy little feeling that it’s possible that Ted could end up developing really complicated feelings about Sharon since, at this point, he’s been honest with her about things he’s hardly spoken about before and you can really form an attachment to people you feel safe with in a new way. (I mean, I’m sure Michelle knows what happened with Ted’s father, but I’m not even certain if Beard does.) He’s so broken right now, and Sharon is such a great person and so different from anyone else in his life (even though Rebecca is also different, and Beard is also different, and Roy is also different, and so on), that I could see things getting really fuzzy for him. I continue to have faith in the way the storylines on this show are handled. I’m just. Putting this here.

(In saying that, though, I also wanna make it really clear that I don’t just automatically assume anytime a new female character is introduced that they’re going to end up becoming a romantic complication. Like, Phoebe is allowed to have a teacher who is an attractive woman and AFC Richmond is allowed to have a sports psychologist who is an attractive woman and Keeley is allowed to talk to Jamie Tartt without it threatening what she has with Roy and all these people can exist as human beings without the introduction of romantic drama.)

Isaac gives every player one haircut per season, OH MY GOD. The JOY during the haircut scene. YES.

KEELEY AND REBECCA. Their text thread. The affirming video call right before Rebecca goes into the restaurant. The way Keeley sits all snuggled up against Rebecca in her office.

I was pretty thoroughly spoiled for the Sam and Rebecca plot through 2x8, and I was bracing for something far more problematic and tortured than what happens in this episode. The words I would use to describe their scenes: awkward, cute, cringy, and understandable. There are a million reasons why this relationship isn’t sustainable, but I felt completely understanding of both their choices here. This show has a lot of thesis statements, but I keep going back to the idea from 2x1 that there are people who enter your life to help you get to the next point, and I think it’s entirely possible that Sam and Rebecca will mutually be that for each other.

I find comparisons between Rupert and Rebecca super upsetting. There are absolutely meaningful things to say about the irony of ending up in a situation with an uncomfortable resemblance to certain taboo elements of an ex’s situation. But that ex is abusive and manipulative and cruel and Rebecca has exhibited NONE of those behaviors, and it makes me really sad to think that people feel that the writers on this show have betrayed Rebecca in giving her this storyline.

As always, I reserve the right to keep blathering about this show. I’ve had a headache for a couple of days, but my head is also so full of 2x8 thoughts that I couldn’t keep them in even if the circumstances for writing this were not ideal. I kind of hate that I’ve included frustrated fandom thoughts within the analysis of what I felt was an absolutely gorgeous, complicated, heartbreaking, near-perfect episode of television, but if ya can’t be a little dramatic on your own tumblr while you’re feeling raw and under the weather, where can ya?

[kindahoping4forever]

Handprints // Ashton Irwin

I’m not in the habit of taking requests/fic suggestions but when an anon sent me a Tiktok and said they needed to read about this scenario and Ashton... I couldn’t resist. 🤡 (And of course I’m me so I had to embellish it into a story and somehow it still ended up 3k smh) As always, my eternal love and thanks to @cal-puddies​ for listening to me talk even the simplest fic to death and just generally being my favorite person.

Warnings: Protected sex in an unestablished relationship, male and female oral sex, playfully rough sex featuring dirty talk and brief spanking

Word Count: 3510

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and New 2021 Taglist linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

You’ve never considered yourself a morning person so it’s nothing short of a miracle that you wake up early. You roll over, stopping just short of the center of the bed, your body registering your unfamiliar surroundings before your mind does. You open your eyes to see a head full of long curls, a tattooed neck and a deliciously freckled back. Right.

You smile to yourself as your tired brain begins to replay the events of the night before. It was your last night in town and you took yourself to a fancy hotel bar to unwind. You’d worked hard all week fielding meetings with your bosses’ bosses but you’d finally landed the promotion; the better pay, the freedom to do the type of work you enjoy - these were all things you’d been aiming for and you couldn’t be happier. It’ll be worth the trouble of having to move out to LA.

Especially now, you think to yourself, looking at the sleeping figure next to you before shaking your head, trying to erase those kinds of thoughts from your mind. You’re getting ahead of yourself. You and Ashton had instantly hit it off, amused at being the only two lone patrons, attempting to people-watch without making it obvious - you trying to distract from how awkward you felt being alone and him nonchalantly jotting notes in his phone, a musician looking for inspiration.

You easily could’ve stayed talking to him all night, listening to his stories about the promo tour he and his band were on, him asking questions (and actually being interested in the answers) about your new job and impending move... but when the invitation to “continue the conversation” in his room led to more than just talking… you can’t say you weren’t hoping for that outcome.

You gently ease yourself out of bed, a few slight aches reminding you what a good time you had last night. You pull your phone out of your purse and check your messages. Damn. The meeting to officially sign off on the new position has been pushed up from an early dinner to a late brunch.

You locate your clothes as quietly as you can and slip into the bathroom; you’re staying across town and won’t have time to make it there and back before your appointment so you do as much damage control as you can, utilizing the swanky hotel’s generous supply of amenities.

You decide your top could use a steam and head back out to the suite in your bra and skirt, hoping to track down an iron but instead you freeze at the sight of Ashton awake, lounging in bed, sheets resting distractingly low around his waist. “Thought you’d skipped out on me,” he smirks, muscular arms flexing as he stretches, drawing your attention to the star on his right bicep that you fell asleep tracing.

You feel yourself fighting every muscle in your body to keep from crawling in bed with him, instead retrieving your makeup bag from your purse. “Of course not,” you chuckle, setting up by the mirror across from the bed. “I did just find out I have to be somewhere though.”

“Oh,” he says, surprised. Disappointed, even? You sneak a peek at him in the mirror, groaning under your breath as the sheets fall away to reveal a quick glimpse of his thick cock heavy between his legs before he pulls on a pair of shorts and walks over to you. “I was looking forward to buying you breakfast,” he admits, settling his face on your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist, grinning at you in the mirror.

You smile back, spinning around in his grasp and sighing as he pulls you in for a long, sensuous kiss that has you reconsidering how badly you want this promotion. “I wish I could stay,” you share, running your hand over his beard, wondering if it’s his usual style or just for the ease of being on tour. “But I have to sign before my flight so they can start fast-tracking my transfer to the LA office.” You turn back to the mirror, beginning to liberally pat powder from your compact on your face, trying to compensate for your lack of sleep.

“Fast-track… that sounds promising,” Ash comments, standing behind you again, this time pecking lightly over your bare shoulders. “How soon do you think I might see you out there?”

“Probably be there before you,” you explain, recalling the crazy schedule he shared with you. “They want me to start ASAP so they’re putting me up in a hotel until I can find a place.”

“Mmm,” is his muffled acknowledgment as his kisses travel to your neck. “Wonder if it’ll be as nice as this one.”

“Guess you’ll have to visit and find out,” you boldly tease, breath catching as his touch begins to wander down your body.

He presses into you, hands cupping your breasts over your bra and you watch as a slow smirk spreads across his face when he feels your nipples hard against the thin lace, eagerly anticipating his attention.

“I’ll have to… clearly I can’t leave you alone for too long,” he rasps, morning voice made even deeper by desire. You close your eyes and lean back against him, allowing yourself the momentary distraction. “How much time we got, baby? ...Time for a proper goodbye?”

“Some… some time… not a lot.” Your breath grows heavier as his mouth works over your neck and his fingers tease your hard buds through your bra.

You’re surprised to feel Ash pull back from you but honestly your brain is mush from everything that’s happened this week so you don’t even take the time to question it, instead you just move closer to the mirror to try making your hair look less morning after-y.

Seconds later you feel his lips again, this time leaving a trail of kisses down your back, kneeling to peck around your waistband while his fingers nimbly unzip you; he tugs your skirt down and you don’t even give a second thought to stepping out of the material once it’s pooled around your ankles. His thumbs hook inside your panties and they quickly join your skirt on the floor.

You bite your lip, waiting for his next move but Ashton redirects you, insisting, “Uh-uh, baby, you gotta keep getting ready. Can’t have you being late.” He sits back on his heels, gently rubbing up and down your legs, patiently waiting for you to resume your task.

You give him a curious look but do as he suggests. As soon as he can tell your attention has shifted, his hands start travelling higher and higher until his fingers brush along your folds; you hear him exhale as he realizes how wet you are just from all the touching and flirting.

“Guess I should tell you I’ve been thinking about a proper goodbye since I woke up next to you,” you admit, allowing him to widen your stance, shuddering as his thumb grazes over your clit. He hasn’t applied any pressure yet but you can’t believe how much the brief contact has you buzzing, how dazed your reflection already looks.

“Funny, we could’ve started on that sooner if I hadn’t woken up alone,” he jokes, nibbling along your leg.

You giggle, appreciating his wisecrack and the feeling of his scruff tickling your skin. “Trust me, if I had it my way, your wake-up call would’ve been very different.”

Ash laughs knowingly, “I’ll bet.” He goes quiet and you’re just about to see what he’s up to when suddenly you feel the scratch of his beard between your thighs. You groan as he licks up and down the length of your pussy, dragging his tongue through your folds, teasing you until he settles on your clit, lazily circling around it.

“Ashton…” You start, quickly deciding to give up on whatever you were trying to say once he sucks your clit between his lips, hands pawing at your ass and thighs, encouraging you to spread further for him. You curse under your breath, your interest in preparing for your meeting fading with every new jolt of electricity his tongue gives to your core.

He pulls back, nipping at your inner thigh. “Still doesn’t seem like you’re ready to walk out the door, baby, the clock is ticking,” he chides with faux concern. You feel him grin as he flicks his tongue over you. “Anything I can do to assist?”

You laugh at his audacity. “Oh I’ve definitely got a few ideas.”

He continues to work and you moan quietly, hips rolling over Ashton’s face without you even realizing. He lets you do your thing for a few moments and then he’s gone again before you feel two large fingers slipping inside you. You moan, this time much louder than you mean to. He curls his long digits just right and it causes you to lurch forward, bracing yourself on the mirror in front of you.

You open your eyes and take in the version of yourself staring back at you: pupils blown, lips swollen from sucking them between your teeth, a light sheen of sweat on your face as you get more and more worked up. The hand between your legs makes another expert move against your pussy and you watch your eyes roll back and your jaw drop.

“Jesus, that’s so good... fuck me,” you mumble, head dropping.

“Is that a comment or a request?” Ash quips, loudly sucking his fingers clean.

You turn around, an intoxicating surge of power and confidence flowing through you as you look down at him on the floor, hunger in his eyes, palming himself through his shorts as he gazes up at you.

“That felt so good, Ash,” you murmur, brushing his long curls off his face. “But if I’m gonna risk being late, I think we should make it worth my while and get me on your cock.” You stare into his eyes, matching his desirous energy, hand rubbing over his beard, gently wiping at the glisten of your arousal on his lips.

He stands up and suddenly you’re reminded of just how big and broad he is and you feel an immediate need to have him surrounding you; he pulls you into a heated kiss and neither of you can help but grind, grope and grab at each other. He discards your bra and sucks your tits into his mouth, tongue circling at your nipples over and over. When he comes up for air, your hand dips into his shorts, moaning at the feeling of his cock hard and leaking in your hold. You’re only able to get a few strokes in before he’s nudging your hand aside so he can pull his shorts down.

You subconsciously lick your lips as his cock eagerly springs from the material and Ashton has to laugh. “I can tell what you’re thinking but remember we’re trying to be quick here,” he teases, taking your wrist and spinning you back to your spread stance against the mirror.

You watch his reflection as he pumps at his cock while he grabs a metallic packet from the nightstand, hissing as his fingers drag over the head before he rolls the condom on. “I dunno, right now I’m about ready to straight up quit my job if it means I don’t have to wait until LA to have you in my throat again,” you say, heart pounding as he positions himself behind you.

Ash grins at you in the mirror, rutting against your ass before guiding his cock to your wetness, teasing a bit before pushing inside. “That was a highlight from last night, wasn’t it? Took me so well… any way I asked… so good, baby,” he huffs, hips setting a steady pace.

“Did plenty of asking myself if I’m not mistaken,” you reply, whining as he gives your hair a slight yank, pulling you back into a sloppy kiss.

“That’s true,” he laughs, groaning as you start moving back against him. His hands, big enough to each cover one of your cheeks, massage and pinch at your ass and you shudder when you see how enthralled he looks as he watches his cock move in and out of your pussy as you work against him.

He pinches your ass a little sharper than before and you let out a loud moan, earning a smirk and a low “shh” from him. “Think I need to ask for somethin’ like I did last night,'' you pant, wiggling your ass a bit. “Will you?”

“I was wondering,” Ashton admits, giving your ass a smack so loud it nearly drowns out the whimper it draws from you. “Good, baby?”

“More,” you choke out. He delivers a pair of flat-palm strikes to each of your cheeks, the both of you audibly reacting to how it makes you throb around him. “Fuck, Ash, yessss… So. Fucking. Good.” You try to keep your voice down, given the early hour but his cock is hitting every single spot you need and well so you’re not sure how successful you’re being.

Two more smacks to your ass and you’re leaning in to the mirror, turning to bury your face in your own bicep in an attempt to muffle your cries. Ash brushes his fingers over your hair before roughly tugging you back again, growling, “Nah, I wanna hear you, baby. Lemme know how much you’re gonna miss this cock filling you up.”

His hands come up to grab your tits, fitting over each one and squeezing tight, using the leverage to bounce you on his cock. A series of low whines pour from your throat and you hope he understands they mean that you can’t get enough of how he’s making you feel, how you’re so glad you went to that bar last night, how you can’t believe how well he can read your body despite only knowing you for 12 hours. You hope he knows because he’s fucking you so thoroughly these sounds are the best you can do.

Your breathing has become more pronounced and your fingers splayed on the mirror now appear to be clawing against the glass; Ashton notices and lets his fingers roll over your nipples before running one of his hands down your body to your clit. “Feelin’ good, baby?” He softly asks, slowing his thrusts to an almost agonizing rate as he rubs you. You nod, whimpering his name as he adds more pressure. “Tell me what you need, want you to feel so good when you cum for me.”

“Holy fuck,” you sob, throwing your head back. His fingers work your clit while the new pace of his hips is driving you absolutely mad, moving so slowly and deliberately, you can feel every inch of his cock deliciously dragging against your sensitive walls. “That. Keep doing that. Oh my god.”

He follows your direction, touching you and methodically fucking you. He leans in to kiss along your ear and when he gently bites down, that’s it for you. You gasp his name in measured huffs as you pulse around his cock; somehow you manage to pry one of your hands off of the mirror and you grab behind you, pawing at his shoulder, his arm, anything you can reach.

Ash puts his free hand on the back of yours against the mirror, interlacing your fingers and rubbing over your skin with his thumb as you tighten around him. “Oh baby, yes, that’s a good girl… feel so good cumming around me,” he praises you, voice straining, clearly trying to keep it together himself.

“Ash,” you whine, grinding against him, riding out the last waves of your orgasm. You look at him in the mirror, with pleading eyes. “Please…”

Somehow he knows what that means and he turns your head to slowly kiss you. You moan into his mouth when you feel his hand drop away from your clit, your body starting to settle. You go slack in his arms, leaning against him, closing your eyes and sighing heavily.

“You good?” He checks, amused concern in his voice.

“Oh, so fucking good,” you breathe dreamily. Suddenly a mischievous smile paints your face and you spring up from his chest. “Your turn!”

Ashton chuckles as you drop to your knees and peel the condom off of him, pumping at his cock before eagerly sliding your mouth on him.

“I’d say again you don’t have time for this but I’ll tell you right now this isn’t going to take very long,” he laughs, massaging his fingers through your hair.

You pop off to stroke him. “See? Efficient and exciting, it’s a win/win for everyone,” you grin, a shiver running down your spine as he groans watching you take him down again.

You don’t take as much of him as you did last night, thinking you probably shouldn’t risk showing up to brunch with a hoarse voice. But you bob up and down enthusiastically enough that it’s only a few moments before his grip on your hair is tightening and he’s rushing out your name.

He giggles fondly as he looks down at you sitting on your knees, mouth happily open as you stroke him. “Baby, what are you gonna do about your meeting if this gets all over you?”

You shrug. “Guess you better have good aim then, bro.”

Ashton laughs loudly until you lean in to flick your tongue on the underside of his tip. With a quickly choked out “Shit… baby…”, his cock twitches and cum starts pouring onto your tongue. You open wide, pumping his shaft and humming with pleasure as he continues spurting into your mouth.

When he’s finished, you close your lips around him, suckling at the head a few more times and he lets out a loud growl in response. “Fuckin’ hell, baby, I’m so glad you didn’t listen to me,” he mumbles.

You giggle, buzzing with satisfaction as he helps you back onto your feet. He kisses you passionately and you lose yourself in it a bit, playing with his messy curls, not ready for this to be over. He glances at the mirror as he pulls away from you and he laughs, causing you to turn in curiosity. “Looks like you’re leaving with a couple souvenirs there,” he teases, gesturing towards your reflection where two large red handprints are decorating your backside. In a quieter tone, he offers, “I hope that doesn’t hurt.”

“Well I do,” you respond suggestively, moving closer to examine his literal handiwork. “Hopefully these will have just about faded by the next time I see you… and then we can re-up.”

He groans at your comments and you can tell he’s fighting the urge to pull you in again, knowing you’ve really got to get going. You save him the trouble and kiss him yourself, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth as you separate.

“And look,” you grin, pointing behind you. “You’ve got something to remember me by too.”

Ashton steps closer to the mirror, a naughty smile spreading as he notices your two handprints smudged on the glass. “I should cancel housekeeping for the rest of my stay so I can keep your memory here with me,” he jokes.

He pecks your lips once more and then scoops your clothes up off the floor, smoothing them out as best he can before passing them to you. “Think you’ll make it on time? I can call your boss and pretend to be your bumbling driver who’s unfamiliar with the area.”

You snort, picking up your phone to check your route. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, the meeting’s been switched to a Zoom. My new boss had to get on an earlier flight so we’re electronically signing when they land,” you say with surprise.

“Oh,” Ash agrees, moving back over to you with interest. “And your flight is…”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “Late.”

“New plan!” He announces, literally sweeping you off your feet and carrying you back to bed. “Nap. Shower. Room service. Obviously we’ll have to say goodbye again.”

“Obviously,” you concur. “Is the order of these events negotiable? I’m pretty hungry and that protein shot I just took down the throat isn’t going to last me very long.”

He cracks up, flopping on the sheets next to you. “Sequence of events is up for discussion, as long as we agree right now that calling the maid service isn’t on the docket. I was serious about keeping those handprints up.”

You nod with mock seriousness. “If we pencil in the shower after food and sleep, I might have the energy to work on a matching set for you on the shower door.”

Ashton strokes his beard, playfully considering your offer. “Might be able to deliver another pair for you as well. I’m thinking the backs of your thighs?”

“Fuck that new job, this is the obviously the best business deal I’ll be making today,” you giggle.

————-

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[buckybansre]

my baby | reiner braun

warnings: angst (??) w/ happy ending, sorta fluffy at the end, hurt/comfort, references to alcohol.

pairings: reiner braun x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: reiner finally returns back home and all seems well. but is it actually?

it has been months since you got to see reiner and maybe even years since you got to see him for more than a few days a time, you hadn't realised how much you missed him until you were shuffling through groups of people who waited for their family members, just to get to the front so you could see him as soon as he got off the train.

so much time has passed since he was given the armored titan and sent on a mission across the sea, you guys never really had the chance to have a concrete conversion about what happened on paradis, but it was obvious that reiner avoided the subject so you didn’t push on it too much.

you always got self conscious about if his feelings for you still remained when he’d disappear for weeks at a time, but your high hopes persisted for your relationship regardless as you waited behind the gate for reiner to come through.

with his mother, karina standing next to you, your heart felt like it could pound through your chest at any given second.

i wonder if he’s gotten bigger,

i wonder if he’s grown a beard by now,

i wonder-

“reiner!” you heard his mom yell from your side, which immediately snapped you from your thoughts.

“r...reiner?” you looked at him, he looked different but still the same old reiner nonetheless.

he’d grown so big, and had stubble growing across his cheeks. you never smiled so big when you saw someone.

fuck, you really missed him so much. your mind couldn't help but ponder off to the next time he’d be requested to leave for another mission. it broke your heart. he only had a few years left, and in your head, those years are yours. they belong to you, you both earned this.

is that selfish of me? you thought, chewing on your bottom lip.

no. you reassured yourself. i am not selfish.

“y/n? i missed you so fucking much, god.” he rushed over and wrapped his around your waist, engulfing you into his warmness. his familiar scent of cigarettes (you had zeke to thank for that) and cologne quickly filled your nostrils. you only hugged him tighter which caused him to chuckle.

you’d forgotten that you cut about three inches off of your hair until reiner commented on it.

“did you do something new to your hair?” he whispered, shutting his eyes as he hugged you tighter. “you’re so pretty.”

your cheeks grew with a fiery feeling as he released you from his grasp and laid his hand on your cheek, running his thumb across every feature of your face which caused you to laugh.

reiner greeted the rest of his family, keeping his arm around you the entire time.

“let’s go home,” you said after he finished greeting his family, taking his hand into yours and leading him back home. “you need to rest.”

—

reiner always assured you that when he got back from his big mission, he would come and live with you, and he upheld that deal. you guys were so young, and it seemed like only a silly reality. but now, it had become real.

once reiner initially arrived back from paradis, you two moved rather quickly to pick a home before he had to leave again to aid the warriors in another mission.

the house was perfect for the two of you, and a family as well, if you and reiner ever decided you wanted to take that step.

you, so badly wanted to take that step. but reiner on the other hand never spoke about it, so neither did you.

nevertheless, the house seemed so tiny, even tinier when you were there alone.

you always insisted on decorating the house whenever reiner came back. it was your ultimate goal to make him feel wanted and welcomed.

he needed that reassurance, and you were more than happy to provide it.

“so.. do ya’ like it? i know it’s small and…” you trailed off as you both made your way into the house, seeing a banner and a few balloons spread across the dining room.

“what? no, it’s great, baby. as long as i get to come back to you, everything is great.” he cracked a smile as he shut the door and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

“i can’t believe you still like me after all this time, or wanna be with me even. it’s crazy, really,”

the mutual crush between you and reiner began when you both were nine. reiner was training to be a warrior and you, well, you liked to watch.

you’d sneak to their practices and watch reiner do all of the drills and after, he’d confront you on your innocent stalking.

from then, the rest was history. you grew close with the other warriors, always having their favorite baked treats on hand when they had a hard day of training.

bertholdt was the one to make you confess your feelings to reiner once it was for certain that he was inheriting the amour titan and that they’d be traveling to paradis.

you missed bertholdt. so badly.

him, reiner, you and annie were inseparable. always being spotted together.

your heart broke badly when you found out they’d be inheriting titans, because from then, a timer would always be clocking down.

thirteen years.

“i only have a few years left, i don’t know who i’d rather spend it with,”

that.

that made your stomach churn in all different kinds of ways. he only had a few years left before he’d be gone forever.

you wished that he never got the armored titan, even back then you’d pray and pray that porco would get it instead of reiner.

selfishly of course.

“we never talked about this but, um, how were things… in paradis…?” you chewed on your bottom lip, your eyes carrying their gaze from the counter up to his eyes.

“interesting to say the least,” he sighed, shaking his head. “i’m going to go freshen up and then we can go to a bar, okay?”

“uh, yeah, about that, your family wants us over for dinner.” you looked at him and smiled slightly. “your mom made something for you and gabi,”

reiner and gabi’s relationship always made you smile. it’s what stemmed your wanting to have kids with reiner in the first place. he’d do anything for gabi.

“oh yeah, okay,” he nodded with a smile, kissing your head before walking into the bathroom to shower.

what the fuck does he mean by interesting? and what the hell happened on that island?

you brushed it off and walked into your bedroom and begun to brush your hair in order to flatten the stubborn flyaways that came up since you did your hair this morning.

reiner came out of the bathroom within a few minutes and had a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still covering his torso.

your cheeks quickly heated up as you got up quickly, even though you’d been with reiner for years, and even seen him naked multiple times, you still got flustered at the sight of him.

“uh, i’m gonna go uh, help you mom prepare dinner,” you walked out of the room before he replied. “meet me there in ten.”

it always shocked you how it wasn’t awkward between you both and everything just went back to normal so quickly.

you hoped to be married to him soon, have a few children and live in this house with him until his years were over.

you hoped.

you grabbed your jacket and bag and began walking towards the braun house. reiner’s mom made sure that when you two picked a place, that it was close.

you knocked on the door twice before it was opened by a small brown haired girl with gleaming brown eyes.

“gabi!” you grinned and leaned down to hug her. “i heard about what you did, it’s very impressive,” your fingers smoothed her hair back as you looked down at her.

“y/n! thank you!” she giggled before taking your hand and leading you into the house. “where’s reiner?” she peaked behind you before squinting her eyebrows.

“oh he’s just getting dressed, he’s gonna meet me here,” you replied as you step into the dining room of the house. “i wanted to come a bit early and help.”

you started by placing the plates and utensils on the tables for all the guests, then you helped karina make a pitcher of tea and by then dinner was ready.

you all sat at the table as karina and reiner’s aunt placed the few dishes of food onto the table.

“where’s reiner y/n?” reiners uncle asked as he began to cut into his food.

you did the same and began cutting into your food, answering before taking a bite.

“i dunno, he said that we would meet me here,” you took a bite of food and swallowed. “perhaps he fell asleep or something? i’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

everyone at the table nodded and with that, gabi began retelling her story about what happened on the battle field.

she was an impressive warrior candidate, and that’s saying the least. but you didn’t want gabi to inherit the armored titan, because similarly to reiner, you didn’t want her to have a short life.

but gabi seemed so happy, and it sickened you to your stomach. marley is poisoning these kids to want to be tools of war. it made you even sicker how every eldian parent thought this was normal, not even normal, they thought it was a prize of some sort.

it wasn't.

as gabi kept talking, no one realized how much time was passing. by the time she was done telling her story, everyone was finished with their dishes and the pitcher of tea was empty.

“i don’t know why reiner didn’t show,” you said, shaking your head to yourself as you began to help gabi clear the plates off of the table.

it isn’t like him to skip out on family dinner the day he gets back.

“he’s probably just exhausted,” the small girl shrugged as you both headed towards the sink.

“i think you’re right,” you smiled down at her, ruffling her hair as the dishes made a clinking noise in the sink.

you put on your coat and grabbed your bag.

“i’ll let reiner know that you guys missed him,” you said to everyone, earning a mix of goodbyes before walking out of the house and onto the windy street.

your shoes clicked against the sidewalk as you walked the few minutes it took you to get back to your home.

god, these things were killing your feet.

“reiner!” you yelled as soon as got through the front door. “why the hell didn’t you come to dinner?”

you looked well throughout the house and he was nowhere to be found, he wasn’t at home.

well then, where hell was he?

“fuck, reiner.” you sighed and put back on your jacket before heading out of your house once again.

you suspected him to be at the bar since he mentioned it earlier. it was either that or a damn emergency happened and he was with the other warriors.

you hoped it was the second one. because why else would he pass up dinner with his family on his first night back?

it took about fifteen minutes for you to reach the bar nearest to your home. by the time you got there you were shivering and your feet and hands were freezing.

as you walked into the bar you were greeted by the workers, you nodded in their direction and gave them a small smile in reply.

your eyes glazed around the room for the tall blonde, it didn’t take long for you to spot him sitting on one of the stools at the bar, downing another glass of brown liquid before requesting another.

you walked over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder. “reiner,” you say sternly. “i’m glad you’re okay but why didn’t you sho-”

“y/n! my girls here, everyone!” he grinned as his words slurred, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing tightly.

he’s definitely had one too many.

a few other drunk people cheered and he smiled at you before pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.

gross, reiner. you cringed slightly at the feeling of his wet lips against your cheek.

“reiner,” your voice was soft as you gently moved yourself out of his grip and sat in the stool next to him, frowning slightly at this sight of him. “can i have a water with no ice, please?”

“what?” he asked with a chuckle as he began to pick up his next glass of brown liquid which you quickly took from him and replaced it with the water you asked for.

“you didn’t come to dinner. everyone was so excited to see you.” you sat the glass down on the counter, trailing your finger around the cold rim before you made eye contact with him, sighing softly as you gestured for him to take a sip of water.

“oh fuck me,” he chuckled deeply, pushing the water slightly to the side. “it would’ve just been depressing, all they wanna know is how my time on the island was. i would rather die than think about anything that happened on that island ever again,”

what?

he’s never said anything like that before. but then again, you guys never made time to properly talk about everything.

and now, you felt horrible because of that.

you didn’t know what your boyfriend was feeling, which seemed to be a lot. yet, you were left completely in the dark.

but, that’s your fault for not inquiring sooner.

you shook your head.

no.

but everything that you just thought was completely true.

your eyes widened and you felt like ten pounds of weights were suddenly attached to your heart. it hurt that he would even talk about himself like that.

your eyes grew slightly watery, as you looked at him. in this light, this sight of him looked so different, he looked… unhappy, maybe? you didn’t know.

he was ruff, so jagged with scratches placed across his chin, bags under his eyes, his hair stuck up in different directions and the stubble growing across his cheeks that looked so handsome to you earlier just added to the look.

he looked tired.

but tired of what?

“let’s go home,” you said softly gently taking his hand after placing some money on the counter to pay for whatever reiner had been drinking.

“you asked me about paradis earlier,” he started.

“reiner,”

this isn’t the time or place. why now reiner? god.

“no let me talk, y/n.” his eyes met yours, they were filled with hurt and anger. the water that clouded his eyes could pour out any second but it refused to even trickle slightly.

you let him talk, even if it was in the middle of a halfway busy bar and the pair of you were gaining looks by the minute.

“everything that happened on that island was so shit,” he chuckled sadly. “did you notice how i was when bertholdt didn’t come back? i couldn’t even save annie.”

“reiner, i…”

“bertholdt is dead and who the hell knows what’s happening to annie right now! i failed them y/n! bertholdt died because of me!” he yelled and a tear finally trickled from his eye.

you guys were gaining the attention of people by the second now.

“i doubt that’s true, reiner.” you clenched your jaw.

reiner recognized that as a lie, but you didn't.

“no it is true, i’m a monster, y/n! i killed so many people! i killed my comrades! they didn’t know any better!” he stood up and tears just kept coming from then.

a tear fell down your cheek and you wiped it quickly. “reiner, please just let’s go home we can talk about this there,” you took both of his tense fists into your small hands and your thumbs crossed over his calloused knuckles a few times.

“y’know… even since we were kids, i always thought you were the most beautiful girl i’d ever seen,” he whispered, now cupping your face and looking down at you.

“and that always kept me going but i don’t know if i…” his voice cracked and he finally noticed the immense hurt on your face.

his heart dropped. he thought he lost you. causing a stupid scene in the middle of a bar, what the hell was he thinking?

“please,” your voice still somehow remained soft, your lips even ever so slightly curving up into a smile. “let’s just go home, okay?”

he silently agreed, ushering you both out of the bar as the pair of you gained looks from the others in the bar.

the walk back home was silent, but he still persisted to hold your hand the whole way back home.

you unlocked the door and reiner went straight to the bedroom but you stopped in the kitchen to fill up a glass of water for him.

as you walked into the bedroom you saw reiner sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his lap.

you sat the glasser on the dress and walked over to him, rubbing his back as he wrapped his arms around your waist. unexpectedly, reiner began to quietly sob into your torso.

“you’re not a monster, okay? you were so young, you didn’t know any better. it’s not your fault.” you said quietly, kissing his head.

he brought you onto his lap and you wiped the last few tears that dropped.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i wish i never inherited that stupid titan, i should’ve been here with you. i should be able to live a long life with the girl i love. i earned that much, right?”

a tear fell down your cheek, now knowing that you both shared the same regret of him inheriting the titan and learning the new information that he would’ve wanted to live a long life with you.

“yes, yes you did.”

you wrapped your arms around him tightly. “none of this is your fault, i promise. no one blames you, you were just a kid.”

he nodded in response, looking down at you.

“if anything it’s marley’s fault for putting such hard expectations on children.” you reassured him once again, pressing a longing kissing his temple.

he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, his hands on your waist as he kissed you gently.

you kissed him back, draping your arms loosely around his neck. your stomach piled with butterflies as you felt reiner’s hands travel down your back before he pulled you closer.

your heart was heavy once again, but for a different reason.

you were in love. reiner was all that you yearned for, and he was yours. only yours.

you inhaled his scent indirectly, smiling against his lips as you felt so safe and warm within his arms, with his lips pressed to yours.

for once, you were optimistic about the future. because, well, everything felt so bright and perfect in that moment. you wished you could stop time in this moment and just replay this moment over and over again. you’d never get tired of it. and that way, reiner would never have to leave you again.

you sighed happily.

“i love you,” he whispered against your lips.

you rested your forehead against his and your eyes met his gleaming hazel pupils.

“and i love you, always,”

please don’t translate, post (on other platforms) or rewrite my work. requests for one shots are always welcomed, pls send!! <3

love, pey !!

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.11]

Pairings:  Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death. **Smut.** 18+ please and thanks.

A/N:  It’s  here! Just a reminder this is a Bucky chapter. I really struggled with this one so who knows what this is. As always  my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​​​​​​ made sure this wasn’t trash. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Morning came too fast. The sun rose against Bucky’s wishes for it to stay hidden and keep reality from tearing away the small bit of heaven they created last night. Once it did, Bucky wasn’t sure how he would fare. He hoped well. There’s history, though. He’s watched her love another, and Bucky had loved him too. It made all of this more complicated. There were rules and lines that if crossed, relationships and hearts would never be the same. It wasn’t as simple as a confession of love whispered in the dark, regardless of past promises exchanged and the ones broke with only the stars to bear witness.

One stumble. One misstep and everything would crumble around them. 

Was it even safe to say what was on his heart? Was ‘I love you’ too risky, too sudden? It wasn't something Bucky was willing to gamble yet. Maybe once they’ve talked and he’s held her through the fears he knows are there. No admissions this morning, just the quiet they fell into. 

Thankfully, that silence was there to say what the heart couldn’t. 

The room was already growing warm from the rays spilling in and heating the heap of tangled sheets and limbs. Something was off. Bucky turned to find the source and he couldn’t help the quiet laugh rumbled from his chest. The break in the thick soft coral fabric that usually kept the sun out smiled back at him. It was still parted from the lamp that fell the night before. He had forgotten. The brushed silver stand caught the curtain in the midst of shedding clothes and desperate kissing and falling. The cream colored shade still sat on the floor where it fell and Bucky couldn’t find it himself to be bothered. Bucky ran a hand down his face, but the grin pinching his cheek stayed put regardless. It’s been fifteen years -- Fifteen years! It was hard to believe they were here after everything that happened. 

After all the mistakes he made, Bucky never thought he would end up here. He thought for a long time, it was one-sided. A silly crush he convinced himself he would get over if he found enough distractions. Nothing was ever enough because nothing could ever mean more than her. There was a fleeting moment when his chance came into view, and it was snatched away from him before he realized he wouldn’t get another. Last night everything changed. It was… there were no words that could do it justice in Bucky's eyes. It was incredible. Amazing. Perfect. A glimpse of Heaven he never deserved to have and long overdue. It was everything Bucky thought it would be and so much more.

Bucky’s spent most of his life dreaming about a morning just like this. A morning where he woke to a dream, an angel sleeping soundly next to him and wrapped around his heart, invading every inch of his soul. He’s pictured their first time more than he could ever hope to count and no matter how the fantasy started, it never played out like that. It was never that soft and bright and wistful. Dreamlike but unlike any dream Bucky could invent. In the versions that played out in his head, there was always a dramatic confession of love that led to this frantic, consuming moment where they landed tangled around each other and ready to run away together as soon as the sun rose.

This was far better. 

Mornings after have never been something Bucky was particularly fond of. He usually woke with a twinge in his soul and a burning in his heart. Burning so badly he couldn’t wait to get away from the faceless woman next to him and he did. As fast as he could, he ran straight for her every time. Looking for absolution or temporary amnesia perhaps. A few hours to forget that it would never be her laying next to him, she would never be his because they weren’t made for each other like he once believed. The feeling he wakes with on those days is reminiscent of an ache he knows he can never mend. It doesn’t feel anything like this. Nothing in his life has ever felt like this, not a single moment in his life has he ever felt this solid. No one but Y/n could make him feel so utterly lost and devastatingly found all in one breath. 

There was a nudge to his ankle. A soft foot gently grazing against the tiny hairs resting there and pulling him out of his head and back to her. Bucky rolled onto his side and grinned when he found her hiding behind the blanket, only her eyes peeking out over the fluff that was covering her nose. Her mouth was hidden but he knew by the twinkle in her eye she was smiling. Over the last year, Bucky has become accustomed to seeing her wake with a tearful gleam and ghosts pinning her down. There’s only a smile this morning and somewhere in that stubborn head of his, he knows it’s his doing. He hoped it was his doing. 

All he’s ever wanted in this life is to make her happy and, while Bucky knows he will never truly deserve her, it won’t stop him trying to be worthy of her.

Y/n slowly slid the blanket down uncovering that pretty smile, the one Bucky lives and dies by. Seeing it first thing in the morning, when she’s still glowing and he’s still searching for the breath she stole does something to him. Something he couldn’t explain if he was forced to. It’s a good thing, Bucky knows that. He knows that because his hands were still trembling and his heart was pounding like it’s found a new reason to keep beating. It started last night when she asked him to fall and he went tumbling down, Bucky found something more to live for. His second chance at life came from loving her and he wasn’t going to screw it up again.

The quiver in his fingers settled when they brushed her skin and she smiled because of his touch. He placed a soft kiss to her shoulder when his fingers left a shiver in their place. Another kiss to her chest followed the path his hands created as they explored, and another one to her neck. Okay, several to her neck and that spot under her ear that makes her whimper. He really liked that one. Her fingers played with the chain around his neck, slowly wrapping the cold metal around her hand and tugging him forward until his lips to meet her mouth. Bucky slowly crawled over her using his knee to push her legs apart and slipped down between her legs, never once breaking their kiss-- he wasn’t ready to lose their softness. 

Bucky draped himself over her, neither bothered getting dressed last night and he was grateful for their laziness this morning. His forearms rested on the bed next to her head and fingers playing with the fallen strands of her hair. She smiled up at him and mumbled a quiet good morning which Bucky returned with a languid kiss, one that only added to the heat filling the room. He didn’t have a real plan for how this would go. The only thing he wanted to do this morning (and for every morning for the rest of forever) is show her how much he loves her. She sighed helplessly when he broke their kiss, staring up at him waiting for him to tell her which path they should follow-- their head or their heart. Yeah. Okay. That was the plan for today. She needed to know that it all means something more. Every touch, every kiss, and every last whisper means more; it did back then and does now. He’s waited so long to have her like this, how could it not mean everything? 

It was everything. He would show her. It didn’t matter how they got here or how it happened. None of this happened the way Bucky wanted it to, and he knows exactly what this second chance cost them both, but he just wants to love her the way she deserves to be loved—how he should have been loving her all these years. 

Pausing he asked, “Fall with me?” 

He bumped their noses together and she smiled up at him. 

“Yeah, Buck.”

He returned her grin and checked one more time to be sure, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

She leaned up and caught his lips, tumbling into unknown depths once more with only Bucky there to catch her. It felt the same and different. A familiar nuance. Last night was slow and Bucky couldn’t see anything past her. It’s the same this morning; she’s the only thing his heart recognizes but his thoughts are clearer, more focused. It feels less like a dream and more like it could be his future; like it was real, tangible enough he could reach out to take a hold of her, and never let go. 

Or so Bucky hoped. 

Bucky took his time loving her, the sun was barely up and he wanted to see how far they could fall. However far she was willing to take him, Bucky will follow her wherever. He may be the one making her come undone this time around, but she’s always the one leading the way. So he let her lead, followed every move of her hips and every shiver. God, he loved the way she sounded under him. Those sweet sighs and desperate gasps. His name on her lips. 

“Bucky. Bu- Bucky.” 

He doesn’t think he will ever tire of hearing his name fall from her lips with such need. It was beyond the heat and want of the moment and while she’s needed him in the past she’s never needed him in this way. 

Letting go of her felt like a sin. Something he shouldn’t attempt again and he won’t if he can’t help it. Bucky made the quick trip to the bathroom after her, peeking out the door to watch her curl around his pillow, wearing nothing but the smile Bucky gave her. The sight made him move a little bit faster. He climbed back into bed rubbing his beard against her stomach and chest until she giggled. Bucky whispered against her bare skin, “Ain’t that a pretty sound.” 

She smiled and told him his laugh was prettier. Bucky playfully nipped at the sensitive skin under her breast making her yelp and shook his head in disagreement. If she wasn’t still floating in the glimmer of what they had just shared she would argue some more. Bucky urged his head into her hands and she obliged, running her fingers through his hair once he settled down on top of her with his head on her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He really was like a cat sometimes. Bucky’s eyes felt heavy and her hand slowed, sleep was calling them both and they’ve spent enough time denying their wants.

They could talk later. There was time. 

--------

By the time Bucky woke again, the sun was no longer glaring at the window and the room had cooled, despite the fever Bucky created before falling asleep. It took him only a second to realize he was alone this time, the sheets crumbled at the end of the bed leaving his naked skin exposed to the cold air the fan was blowing. There was a note resting on the pillow next to him, smiling less kindly than the curtains had the first time he opened his eyes. He called out for Y/n but there was no answer and without reading he knew what that paper laying next to him said. He rolled into his back and held the note up over his head, reading the words several times over. 

There’s coffee ready for you and I threw your cigarettes in the trash. They better stay there. I have something I need to do, but I’ll be back soon. 

I’m not running. 

Xoxo, 

Your trouble. 

Bucky held the note to his chest and took a deep breath. It was nice to hear but it didn’t settle the fear in his chest. He could have walked away from all this before but now that he’s held her he can’t go back to the way things were before. It’s all or nothing this time around. He set the letter on the nightstand next to the half empty glass of water and her well-worn copy of Anna Karenina. Bucky had to remind himself, she was marking their path and all he had to do was follow her. Bucky knows her better than she knows herself some days and he knows what she needs right now, and he needs to respect that.

So he did. 

The shower seems smaller today. The water burnt his skin regardless of the temperature and the steam felt like it was choking him. He knows it’s because Y/n wasn’t there with him. Which was ridiculous. There hasn’t been a day in his life that he’s shared a shower with her, but not having her downstairs or in their-- her bed weighs heavy on his chest. God did he need a cigarette.

The air was still dense, suffocatingly so, when Bucky made his descent down the stairs that led into the kitchen. His coffee was waiting for him like she said it would be and there was a bright pink sticky note on the lid to the trash-can that caught his eye right away. Bucky snatched it on his way to the mug sitting in front of the glass carafe, reading as he poured. 

And you say I’m trouble. Don’t even think about it, Barnes.

Bucky chuckled and pressed the sticky side of the paper to the cabinet door above the pot, grumbling quietly to himself, “Trouble. Just trouble.” 

Guess the cigarette was out.

By mid-afternoon, Bucky was unable to sit still for longer than a few seconds. He tried to watch a little TV, stared at Steve’s letters for a solid hour before hastily tossing them back into the drawer, and heading outside to tinker with his bike. No matter what he did, he couldn’t keep his nerves from rattling with each hour that passed. The sun was low before he realized it was setting and the pit in his stomach grew. He forced himself to get cleaned up for the second time today, though, he was washing away a different kind of filth. He had one more thing he needed to grab before she came home and he found himself wandering out onto the front porch at what seemed to be the perfect time -- his heart must have known.

The sound of her car rolling over the gravel somehow unraveled him while keeping him together. He took a few steps to the top of the stairs and watched as she walked up the walkway, stopping in front of him. She looked more at ease than she felt he imagined. He had a pretty good idea what happened this morning and where she went, but he also knew she would tell him the whole story when she was ready to and not a moment before. 

“How’s Wanda?” 

She grinned. 

“She’s fine. Annoyingly perceptive.” 

Bucky hummed and pulled out a pale pink peony from his back and held it out for her. She rolled her eyes despite the grin she was unable to stop and took the flower. It was cheesy. Bucky knew it was the cheesiest thing he’s ever done but he didn’t care. He’s spent more than a decade desperate to love her and now that he can, he’s not holding anything back. 

“Dinner?” She asked, holding the flower to her nose to hide the size of her grin. Bucky pushed the flower out of the way with his index finger and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. 

“Yeah, dinner.”

---------

Bucky wanted to press. Ask her what they were and what she was feeling but that wouldn’t be fair of him to do; demand she tell him exactly what this means and where they are going, after everything she’s been through. She probably didn’t know. He couldn’t fault her for that. This entire year was new for her. She’s had to become a different person, with a brand-new dream towards a future she never planned to live. He’s wanted this for years, but for her, this is just something else that’s changed, something else she needed to adjust to and sort out her feelings for. 

He owed her that time. She deserved the time to figure out her feelings without pressure. 

She needed the stability of something familiar and if Bucky kept himself from being selfish, he could give that to her. It wouldn’t be that hard. Most things between them hadn’t changed all that much. They’ve always teased each other, had this connection that’s been entirely for them, and no one else. Only a few things have changed and he could hold back if she needed that. Since she’s been home the front porch kiss has been the only one, despite how much Bucky wished they could forget dinner and spend the rest of the night kissing. Then again Bucky always wants to kiss her. So that wasn’t really all that new either. There were plenty of times when he had wanted to tonight. It was usually found in the little things. When she was standing at the stove swinging her hips to the low hum of the radio Bucky had to force himself to keep his hands and lips to himself when all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and let his lips wander her skin with no real destination in mind. Let them land wherever she would allow and beg permission for the rest. He made no move to do so, just stood beside her and listened to every direction she gave him, letting himself fall for the fifth or sixth time in the last twenty-four hours.  

“So you are going to show me the marshmallow thing now?” 

Bucky laughed but his cheeks were pink and getting brighter by the second. 

“I can, but I like how sweet you taste without it.” 

Bucky watched the shift in her seat, tilting her chin up and dropping her gaze to where her fingers were dancing on the clear steam of her wine glass. She was flustered. Bucky couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips, he tossed his napkin on the table and watched her. She briefly glanced at him, challenging him with a quick raise of her brow and gave one right back. There were a lot of ways this could go. He could drop it and they would push it aside like they always do, or he could act on the tension between them. The little bit of sauce on her bottom lip really made Bucky want to do the second thing. 

Slowly, Bucky closed the few inches between them, scooting her chair closer to him with a gentle pull from his foot and pressing a delicate kiss to the corner of her mouth and running his tongue along the cream on her lips. He barely pulled away before she turned to capture his lips, and it quickly shifted from sweet to desperate and heated. Bucky’s hands find their way onto her backside and slide her off the chair onto his lap with an easy lift.  

It was heady. The kiss. Intoxicating and overwrought. More like the times Bucky dreamed of. Hard and a little rough, with a gentle want. Her hips were moving at a frantic pace, pushing the harsh denim against him and he was quickly losing himself in the feeling. It felt good. To let go and give into her and high that came from wanting her. Bucky’s grip tightened on her waist pushing her down harder with each drag of her hips. 

If they were young and foolish he would lay her out on the table, shoving the plates and bottles to the floor because the mess wouldn’t matter. Not when he needed to be inside her this badly. They weren’t kids any longer. There were scars and wounds and broken pieces that needed to be mended with softness. She was more than some quick fuck he found himself buried in to ease the void and as good as this felt, he didn’t want to love her like that. Her movements faltered and Bucky helped steady her, giving her the chance to pull back and catch her breath. 

There wasn’t much on his mind beyond her, but he followed her glance to the table and met eyes when they landed back on him. 

“We have to clean up?” She asked, panting and clearly a little foggy. 

Bucky chuckled. She was asking him?

He glanced back at the plates on the table where several drained beer bottles sat next to an empty wine glass with a line of red floating on the bottom, the bowl of pasta they had yet to finish, and empty plates. It was a mess. The plates would be a nightmare to clean after that cream sauce had dried and that little bit of wine in the glass would leave a ring. He didn’t care. With his arm secured tightly around her, Bucky carefully stood with her in his arms and headed straight for the stairs. 

With darkened eyes anchored in hers, he assured her, “It will still be there tomorrow, Trouble.” 

They could deal with it together in the morning because he’s not going anywhere any time soon. He will be there as long as she’ll have him and with any luck Bucky has this tomorrow and the next because, without her, Bucky doesn’t have one. 

Previous // Next 

[athina-blaine]

MoMM Chapter 5 - The Storm, Part 2 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

The Storm, Part 1

All he could do now was outlast this storm. Stay sane. No use agonising over the things he couldn’t change. Mum was …

He let out a long exhale, pushing through the weight that lingered on his chest.

Mum was going to have to carry on without him. She was a survivor, after all. He had faith. He just hoped things didn't change too much while he was gone– that the world will still be recognisable.

With Jon’s help, his eyes full of light and concern, and his small, scarred hand gently holding Martin's, he might stand a chance of making it.

The Storm, Part 2

Dear Mum

How have you been doing? I’ve been well. I’m sorry my letter’s a bit late this month, but things have been a little topsy-turvy. I wish I could tell you more about what was going on, but I hardly understand it all myself.

I’m out of a job. Things ended badly and I’m sure I won’t be welcome back at the Lord’s estate, but I’ll do my best to find something else as soon as I can. Something better. I’ll work twice as hard. I know it won’t make up for the missing payments, but I’ll try to make things right. 

I’m trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the meantime. I’ve met someone, and he’s been helping me through all this. We’ve started working on a garden together. I know you’ve always hated gardening, but maybe he and I can grow something remarkable that’ll impress you. Jon doesn’t have much hope, but I’m sure there’s a respectable gardener somewhere between the two of us.

I think you’d like him. He’s kind.

Love,

Martin

 ~

“Jon, these all look the same to me.”

“This is a tulip seed. I’m certain of it.”

“Are you? Because on the pamphlet, it looks like an azalea.”

“Those don’t look anything alike.”

“Just drop it in the pit, will you? We’ll figure out what it is at some point.”

With a sigh, Jon did as told, settling back on his haunches as Martin filled the pit back in with soil. “Is it just me, or does this not strike you as proper gardening?”

“Would either of us know what proper gardening looked like?”

“… That’s a fair enough point, I suppose.”

Taking a deep breath, Jon closed his eyes, shaking out his shoulders. Wiggled, honestly. Did he even know he did that? The wiggling. Like a cat preparing to pounce. Martin had to bite his inner cheek to keep from grinning at the image.

Jon had hung his cloak at the greenhouse entrance and once again Martin was able to appreciate how small the man was, for all the space he took in Martin’s head. Dirt crusted his clipped fingernails and he’d smeared a streak of soil on his cheek. A child begging to be scolded for ruining their Sunday best. Martin didn’t think the man would be so comfortable being filthy.

Comfortable. Perhaps that’s what captivated Martin.

After everything the man had been through – years of loneliness and years more of a nightmare come to life – he still managed to be so … normal? Martin didn’t like how that word tasted, but it was the only one he could think of. Martin had only suffered a few weeks and that had been enough to make him go a bit looney. But Jon …? 

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm? Do what?”

“Stay … I don’t know, yourself?” Martin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the plots. Maybe this hadn’t been the best time to start this particular conversation, but the question had poured out of his mouth. “I mean, I’ve only been here a month and I've already almost gone off my rocker at least once. I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re … remarkably well-adjusted?” 

An eyebrow popped up. “Who says I’m well-adjusted?”

“I– Well–”

“Should I have a wild beard, then? A mad glint to my eyes?”

“Well, I’m not sure about a beard, but you haven’t seen yourself chopping radishes.”

“What? It’s satisfying. You understand, don’t you?” Jon scraped the shadowy stubble on his jaw. “Could never grow a beard, anyway. Too patchy.”

“I’m sure it would look brilliant.”

Jon hummed as he absently dug at a pit with the trowel. Martin fidgeted with the azalea seeds in his palm (maybe tulips?), before he bit his lip. Bit of a rude question, after all. Hey, why aren’t you insane actually? Probably not the best time to ask.

But as Martin opened his mouth, Jon sighed.

“To be honest, I barely noticed the difference at first. I’d already spent so much of my time alone in the archives, so by the time I was truly alone, I … supposed I’d already gotten used to it?”

Martin struggled to temper his expression, heart shattering in his chest. He hadn’t expected a nice answer, but something about Jon’s casual shrug made it all a little bit worse. Could Martin, for all his own loneliness, even imagine what that’s like? Being so alone that by the time his house has been emptied, he didn’t even notice the difference? 

A chill crawled up Martin’s arms, far too familiar and unwelcome in the warmth of the greenhouse. There had to be something he could do or say that could be helpful here. Something that could ease Jon’s burden, if only slightly.

“Well, it must have been nice not having to wear trousers all the time, at least.”

“… What?”

Martin blinked, processing his own words, and his face blazed with heat. “W-well, you live alone, you don’t have to wear trousers. That’s one of the perks, right?” 

“No! What would even– What purpose would that serve?”

“I mean, you’re basically doing the same thing already. Just, you know, in the opposite direction.”

“I have no idea what you could be referring to.”

“Right, sure. And you just like swanning about in that great big billowing cloak of yours, because …? It’s silk, it’s not as if it’s keeping you warm.”

The undertones of Jon’s face glowed. His eyes dropped to his fingers, picking the dirt out of his cuticles.

“I … That’s different. I just enjoy the way it feels.”

“Not that different. It’s about the indulgence.”

Jon rolled his eyes. With a lurch, he plucked up one of the seeds and stuffed it into the soil, and Martin leaned back as he tamped the pit with manic zeal before he settled back down with a huff, crossing his arms.

Martin gave the satchel a little shake. “Was that a tulip or an azalea?” 

Jon stiffened, eyes widening. “I-I, uh … I’m not sure? I wasn’t really looking.”

Their eyes met and the air hung heavy between them. Jon’s lips quivered. Martin’s cheeks grew sore holding his expression in place.

Then, a burst of giggles erupted between them. Jon keeled over, clutching his sides, and Martin quickly ran out of air, chest aching as he gasped for breath.

Jon recovered first, wiping his eye and smearing more dirt onto his cheek. “I … I suppose I can concede that the logic is similar.” He looked unhinged, deranged, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he sheepishly dug out the seed that might have been a tulip.

At least Martin could make him laugh. Not the most helpful thing, but it was something.

That chill didn’t go away, though, not entirely. It lingered on the tips of Martin’s fingers and the chambers of his heart, even as they both stood, wiping their hands of dirt. Did Jon notice it, too? His expression remained content and tranquil as he prepared the watering can, a gentle, absent-minded smile tweaking his mouth.

Martin tried to shake off the feeling.

It was probably just his imagination.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU)

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: This is my first RES fic, so I'm sorry if I mess it up a bit. English is also not my main language, so a mistake or two may happen. I hope you enjoy it :)

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Eastern Europe - July, 2009

"If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

Mother closed the book, placing it on the bedside table between Auryk's bed and mine. Then, she lowered herself and kissed my forehead like she did every night. Her long, blonde hair tickled my face and left a trace of her sweet lavender fragrance in the air. I giggled.

"Good night, sweetheart," she spoke.

"Good night, momma."

"Cherish your last night as a six years old. Tomorrow you will become a..."

"Princess?!"

"A seven years old girl. The prettiest girl in the village."

"Pffft," Auryk let out a displeased grunt from his bed, covering his head with the pillow to avoid listening another word from the conversation.

"And you too," mother sat by his side on the bed and repeated her nightly ritual of kissing his forehead to wish him a good night too. "You'll become the most handsome and brave warrior in this village. Do you understand?"

"I hope so. Good night, mom."

"Good night, buddy."

Mother left the room, leaving us both in the dark. However, we couldn't sleep. Not because we were thrilled about our incoming birthday party as any regular child, but because we knew our lives were about to change. Seven years old was the age every child from our village was introduced to the truth and started being trained to fight the evil that haunted our lands. Auryk and I spent minutes, or maybe hours, in silence, staring at the ceiling.

"Leena?" He was the first one to speak. "Do you believe a spell can broken? I mean, like a curse?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I answered, feeling my thoughts starting to drift away. "Maybe we're doomed after all. Or... we could learn how to love the beasts."

The birthday parties always happened during the daytime, rules of the village. We could no longer be outside after 6 PM. Mother got help from the other women to prepare the treats and organize the decorations. Auryk was disguised as a pirate and I... I was Belle, from the Beauty and the Beast.

"So, what do you think you will be getting this year?" My best friend Elena asked while we were playing with our dolls. She was about two years older than us.

"I don't know," I shrugged. Being a merchant, my father always returned home with the most unusual gifts: a magical music box, a voodoo doll that had a life on its own or a fragrance that chased away the monsters - and everybody else too. "A new book. I'm hoping for a new book."

It was only by the end of the party Adrian Novak made his entrance. That was the mystery about him. Nobody knew when he would show up, or if he would show up at all. He still had that same annoying smirk on his face. The corner of his mouth holding a cigarette. The months away made his beard grow longer, as well as his dark hair. In the sunlight, the scar above his eye was even more visible.

"Auryk," he shouted, "come here, son. I've got something for ya."

My twin brother, who had been climbing trees with his friends stop frozen in spot for a second. I couldn't tell if he hated or feared that man. Maybe both. He slowly followed father's command, approaching him cautiously.

"Hi, dad."

"Happy birthday, son," father ruffled his dark straight hair with his strong and calloused hand. "It's about time you grow up."

He handed my brother a large package. From our experience, we knew exactly what it was, a shotgun.

"T-Thank you, dad."

"I'll be spending some time at home. Tomorrow we'll start practicing."

Auryk consented. He shot me a quick glance. From our twin bond I could tell my brother was far from happy. When he blew his candles that afternoon, he didn't wish for a weapon. We wished to be a normal child.

"What did you get, Leena?" He asked once we were locked in the safety of our bedroom.

"Pencils and a drawing book. Dad thinks I'm talented."

Not really. Adrian Novak would never allow his daughter to hold a shotgun. That was, according to him, 'a man thing'.

"Good, at least one of us got what they wanted. Happy birthday, sister."

"Happy birthday, brother."

4 Years Later - October, 2013

It wasn't easy to be the weakest of the twins. Although he was born first, Auryk was the tinniest. The one who was always getting sick or getting injured. The one who couldn't hit a single fucking target when he had the alcoholic breath of his father on his neck.

He aimed for a crow, sitting still on a fence. How hard could it be? Even the eldest man from the village could do any better than that.

BANG! He shot again. And missed.

"Again?!" Adrian angered, shoving him hard on the shoulder. "What the hell is your problem, kid?"

"I don't know, okay? This gun... it's heavy!"

"Heavy? And why do you think we've been exercising for all these years, huh?! We do not live in Disneyland, Auryk. We need to fight monsters, abominations. Someday I won't be home and you need to be prepared to protect our people. Do you understand?"

Tears started forming in the corners of the boy's blue eyes. He couldn't cry. Not in front of him. Crying was a sign of weakness and he couldn't be weak. Not right now. Auryk started to think about all the things he could be doing. He thought about the ocean, as he had seen on TV and books. He could feel the warmness of the sun on his skin. The sand between his toes. His mom and sister were also there, of course - they'd carry them with him everywhere. And he would study Math and Physics. There would be no guns, no monsters, no blood, only numbers, only formulas, only theories. He smiled. He no longer felt like crying.

"I'm sorry, dad," kindness was always the answer, his mother said. "But this isn't for me, you know? I don't like it. I... Remember that boarding school my teacher mentioned? I thought maybe I..."

His words were interrupted by a hard slap on his face. Auryk could taste a small amount of blood coming out from his lower lip.

"So that's what you want? To become one of those little fancy fags? Maybe you're not my son after all."

Adrian started walking away, leaving his son alone, sitting on the floor.

"I AM!" Auryk yelled, enraged. "I am your son."

"Then prove it."

"You shouldn't take so hard on him," Savannah poured her husband a cup of tea. "He's just a boy."

"He's eleven years old, for god's sake," the husband punched the table strong enough to make it shake. "He needs to man up a bit. You should stop spoiling him."

As I left my bedroom I found my brother sitting on the stairs. He didn't have to be so close to listen to the conversation between our parents, father's voice was loud enough to echo through every wall of our small and cozy home.

I sat down by his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Maybe you should do it, Leena. You'd do it better, I know."

"I'm not so sure. Remember when I tried to shoot a scarecrow and almost shot that old witch?"

"Come on, you aimed on purpose! I know."

Auryk finally let out a small laugh at the memory.

"You're good at everything, Leena," he spoke fondly. "You're an extrovert, you're everybody's friend, you can cook, you can draw and paint... you're a true artist. I'm a mistake."

"You're not a mistake, Ryk," I pulled my brother closer, resting my cheek against the side of his face. "We're only at the wrong place and you know it."

Going back to our bedroom, we pulled from the drawers the postcards our grandma Louise sent us from San Diego. Mom had been born in California and lived there her entire life, until she met father during one of his trips. God knows what made her fall in love with that man. Adventure? Danger? I expected better from myself when I turned eighteen. Otherwise, I'd never want to fall in love. Love could be my ruin, just like my mom's.

"Leena..." Auryk held the postcard tightly, "do you think... if he died... do you think mom would take us to nana's home?"

"I don't know, Ryk," I didn't want to think of my father's possible death. But I also dreamed of a better life. "Maybe."

"What the hell?" Father's voice in the kitchen made me jump in fear. I knew that tone. I grew up used to that. Something was wrong in the village. We had to hide.

"To the basement, now!" He emerged at the bedroom, holding a rifle. "Lycans were seen surrounding the area."

We barely had any time to react, mom came and dragged us both to the basement. Father left, carrying his arsenal of weapons as usual. There were other hunters in the village but we always knew how badly it could end. Somebody could always get seriously hurt. Or worse.

The basement had been carefully prepared for that kind of situation years before. It had a big bed, two armchairs, a heating source, some stored food and a shelf. Mom sighed and forced a smile.

"So," she walked to the shelf, "what is it going to be today?"

"Frankenstein," Auryk suggested. My brother loved mystery and horror. As if his life hadn't enough of it.

"Romeo and Juliet," I spoke. There was something about forbidden romance that always caught my interest.

"Okay. I... I'm gonna say a prayer and you two can read the books you picked by yourselves. What do you think?"

"Great!"

Mom kneeled down by the bed's side, holding a crucifix. I could join her if I wanted to, but I'd rather watch in silence. I grabbed my book, sitting on one of the armchairs and pretending to pay attention, while I tried to distract myself from the fact my father could be the Lycans' next prey. Or all of us, if they managed to break into our house.

"Leena?" I woke up hours later with my mom shaking me. "Leena?! Where's Auryk? Where's your brother, Leena?"

I had no idea. I had fallen asleep and apparently, so did mom. She checked for the basement's door, it had been locked from outside.

"No..." she tried to force it open. "No! I can't be..."

All Auryk had to do was to successfully kill and take a Lycan's carcass as a trophy to his father, right? That was what that old douchebag wanted him to do, to prove his courage, his manhood. We had his shotgun, a binoculars and a knife, that should be enough, but first, he needed a good plan.

Looking down to his hands, he had the most perfect idea. Without thinking twice, he sliced a cut through his palm, letting some blood pour on the ground. Then, he found a tall tree. He climbed it and observed. The smell of blood his trail left behind should be enough to attract a creature.

"Come on... come on..."

From a distance, Auryk could hear the sound of destruction and death. There was a battle going on somewhere nearby. Once again Lycans should have found a family or a group of hunters.

And then, he could hear it. The heavy footsteps, the screeching sounds, the sniffing. The mutant creature was only a few meters away from the tree. He aimed, but it was still too distant. He needed to move to a closer branch.

It all happened in one second. He was almost there, reaching for the spot he had picked, but his weight was too much for the tree's branch. In a blink of an eye, he was lying on the ground. His vision was blurred. His head hurt intensely, as well as his arm. It was broken for sure. He possibly had a concussion too. He tried to stand up and run but his legs wouldn't follow his commands. The Lycan was coming straight at him.

"AURYK!" His mother screamed behind him. "NO!"

Time seemed to freeze in that fraction of second. How did she manage to escape the basement? How could she have found him?

But without hesitation, Savannah threw herself on top of her son, protecting him from the jaws and claws of the monster. Auryk couldn't see much, but he could smell it. He could feel it. Blood. There was blood everywhere. He couldn't tell who it belonged to, he or his mom's.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

A fast sequence of shots suggested the hunters had found them. The creature stopped moving, stopped howling. It was finally dead.

"M-Mom... it's dead. We... We're safe."

She didn't answer. Instead, he heard another familiar voice.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!" It was from his father. "Savannah! Savannah!"

"D-Dad..." Auryk tried to speak, but the words got lost along the way. "I... I..."

Adrian lifted him by his jacket, holding him inches above the ground.

"YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED YOUR MOM, YOUR STUPID BASTARD!"

"I..." tears streamed down the boy's face, his injured brain trying to process what had just happened. "I'm sorry.'

After he was thrown back to the ground, he was hit with a hard kick on his stomach. He turned his head around to notice a small figure hiding behind a tree, watching the whole scene in pure horror.

"L-Leena..." he muttered.

"This is all your fault, Auryk. You're a disgrace to this family."

And then, he passed out. Rumors said he was unconscious for days or maybe weeks. When he woke up, he wished everything had been a nightmare.

Present Days - July, 2021

Nobody mourned Adrian Novak when he died. Not his children. Not his village mates. No human being would ever feel any sympathy for a man who abused and blamed his eleven years old son for his mother's death. It had been two years since Adrian left this world and I couldn't feel any more free.

"Hey," I left another message on my brother's voicemail, "in case you've forgotten it's our birthday today. I'd like to have my twin home, you know? Call me when you get this message."

It was useless, I knew. Auryk would only pick up his phone when he wanted to. Or when he was too drunk. God knew where that guy would be at that time, probably waking up at some girl's bed or getting some rest from... working.

After grabbing myself a cup of coffee, I checked the door's mat. Bills, bills, newspaper and... California Institute Of Arts? I remember having an argument with Auryk about this matter at some point. He wanted me to fill the application and send them my portfolio. I insisted we had no money, not even to pay for the tuition. I won - I always win every argument by the way.

"Your damn son of a..." I placed the envelope on the kitchen's table. I was a coward, I confess. However, I didn't know which pain was worse - to be sure I wasn't good enough or to be sure I was, indeed, but I'd never have money to leave that hellhole. Anyways, I decided to leave it alone. I had more important things to do.

My morning routine: to go to the middle of the woods and do some training. My father used to say fighting wasn't a girl thing, but I was no regular girl. And never in this life I'd allow someone to tell me what to do.

After running, climbing and doing a set of push-ups, it was time for combat training. Travelers from abroad taught me some different set of moves, I'd like to think I created my own fighting style. I was also very good with knifes, daggers or any kinds of short blades, they were useful during a close distance combat. My shooting was a work in progress, once or twice I'd miss the center of my handmade targets.

Then, like everyday, I'd go back home, shower and follow to my shift at the village's pub.

"Hiya, Leena," Gustav greeted me when I arrived. "I heard today is a special day... the day a little girl..."

"NO!" I stopped him. Gustav was my best friend. We had known each other since we were children and somehow, he liked to make my birthday a special - and embarrassing - event.

He placed a handmade fairytale-like book on the table. There were some edited pictures, mixed with some messed up drawings about my birth and childhood. He called it 'The Princess Who Carried The Light'.

"God, you're soooo stupid..." I rolled my eyes and moaned, before wrapping him into a very tight hug. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know. You'd probably marry me, if you weren't into girls."

We laughed together, as Olga, our boss emerged from the kitchen, bringing a cake with nineteen candles.

"Here's to another year," the older woman opened a wrinkled smile, "make a wish, my darling."

I fell pensive for a moment, besides having my twin brother back home, safe and sound, what else could I wish for? California, that scholarship, a new life... that's for sure.

"I wish for... a new life, a new adventure," I pronounced aloud while blowing the candles.

"Careful," a male voice spoke behind me, "words have power, little sister. You may get what you want."

"Ryk!"

I jumped straight to my brother's arms. I could swear that in only a few weeks he had gotten a little bit taller, and stronger too.

"I wouldn't miss my own birthday, right?" He smirked. "So, where's the cake? Please, chocolate... tell me it's chocolate."

"Your silly boy," Olga spread some icing on his nose. "Of course it's chocolate, as you love. And with cherries too."

Auryk responded with a satisfied smile. Olga and her husband, Kristoff, were those responsible for taking care of him after the Lycan attack, years ago. They sort of adopted him like one of their biological children.

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed taking a closer look at Ryk's forearm. He had gotten a tattoo. I hadn't been informed of those news either. Apparently, my brother had more secrets than I could even start to imagine. "This is... new. It seems like my kids are really growing up."

"And only now you noticed that, Olga?" Gustav joked.

Olga shook her head, grinning at herself and returned to the kitchen. The customers were starting to fill the pub. I stared at Ryk again, wondering what other secrets my brother could be keeping.

"So, what does that mean?" I pointed to his newly gotten tattoo, a strange and ancient symbol it seemed.

"Protection from the evil. This is what we need the most in our lives, especially in a place like this. What reminds me -" we turned around, taking a small box from the pocket of his jacket. "Your gift."

I took the black velvet box from his hands, it contained a golden necklace with a magenta gemstone as pendant. My blue eyes drowned themselves in the stone. It had a mysterious glow. Something hypnotizing. Something magical.

"Whoa..." was everything my mouth could pronounce. "And I bought you an Astronomy book."

Auryk stood up from his chair and went behind me, taking the necklace from my hands to wear it around my neck himself.

"This is supposed to protect you from any supernatural and inhumane beings. I won't lose you to them, Aleena. Not like I lost mom."

"Ryk, I... I can't even thank you enough."

"You don't have to. Just... stay alive."

First, I was overflowing with happiness. It either had to do with the fact my brother was home, alcohol, or both. Also, Olga should thank me. Most of the costumers of the day only stopped by the bar because of me. They absolutely loved me and knowing it was my birthday, they had to come and see me. A few of them even gave me some extra tips or a small gift, which was even greater.

"Okay, party girl..." Auryk helped me to get inside of the house as I tripped over the door mat. "Time to go to bed now. Don't you think?"

"Come on, Ryk! Have some spirit! You're home, Olga gave me the day off tomorrow, I earned some money..."

"You told Mrs. Hansen you secretly had a crush on her daughter during Middle School, you danced on top of a table, you're gonna get a hangover..."

"Party pooper!"

I threw myself at the couch. Auryk stood in front of me with arms crossed, looking like a father about to give his child a lecture.

"What?!" I yelled. "It's not like you've never been drunk before. Remember when you stole Adrian's..." I started to laugh, remembering the episode.

"When you were going to tell me about this, Leena?" He showed me the envelope. The Art Institute envelope. The one I had been struggling to open.

"Oh! I forgot. My bad, I didn't open it myself yet. I probably didn't get in anyways."

"You did."

I did?

"It's not like we have money to pay for my tuition. Also, how are we supposed to move to California, Ryk? I work at a pub and you..."

"I've gotten more than enough for that. You know that getting out of this place has always been the plan, since we were children. Leena, I've done some big jobs those last few months. I have the money to grant us a comfortable life in California."

"Smuggling, Ryk!" I raised my voice, saying aloud the information that was supposed to be a secret or not. "You've been stealing to grant us this life."

My brother stared at me in silence. I couldn't tell if he felt offended or embarrassed about my words.

"I'm getting out of here, whatever it takes," he ran a hand through his dark hair. "And you are coming with me. In two weeks, we move to United States for your enrollment."

"But..."

What I was trying to protest against? Leaving the village and starting a new life with my brother was everything I always dreamed.

"Look, I promise you," Auryk placed both of his firm hands on my shoulders, "once we settle down, no more smuggling."

"Okay," I sighed. "We leave in two weeks then."

There was a loud knock on the door. Being drunk as I was, I figured out I should have forgotten my purse at the pub. Or it could be a neighbor with some very stupid emergency.

Auryk opened the door and there was a strange looking man standing there. We wore sunglasses and a hat, behind his back he was carrying a giant hammer. According to the rumors and stories I heard from my parents, that was one of the Lords of The Four Houses, Karl Heisenberg.

"Auryk Novak?" He asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Come with me, kid. You've gotten yourself in big trouble."

[runawaymun]

@ramyun-monster​

per this meme

Oh I was quietly hoping someone would ask me about this one!!

*INHALES*

The thing is, I’ve always gotten the impression that the first couple of years since making The Choice(tm) was really rocky for Elrond and Elros. In my mind, Elrond made his Choice because he had foreseen that Middle Earth would need him in the years to come. He had a huge part to play. He saw that Elros did, too, but he assumed, naturally, that meant they had huge parts to play together. He never imagined that they would be separated from one another.

Elros, on the other hand, didn’t have as strong a gift of Sight as Elrond did. And I have always kind of figured that when he went through his bastard emo teenage phase (as we all do) he wanted nothing to do with the elves. In his mind, everything awful that had ever happened to him and Elrond came as a result of shitty things that elves did for shitty reasons. Like, hello, the kinslayings. He loves his Atya and Atto just as much as Elrond does, of course! But the rest of the elves can shove it. And I also have this impression that both of the twins struggled with some level of, for lack of a better term, species dysphoria growing up. They’re fucking WEIRD, okay? Not really Elf, not really Man, with a bit of Maia mixed in??? And I just kind of headcanon that Elrond always struggled with not looking Elvish enough, whereas Elros always hated the parts of him that were Elvish and wished he looked more Mannish or like a Maia. 

So, of course, as soon as there came an option to identify with the mortal side of him he took it.

And hoo boi. Did they fight about it afterward. 

But they made up, of course. Because they love each other. And by then Elrond looked much more Maia/Elvish. He never grew a beard. He’s very willowy and slender and freakishly tall, with those too-long delicate fingers and eyes filled with starlight. Elros became...not necessarily stockier, but sturdier I guess is a better word. He grew a beard. His eyes softened. And it’s really upsetting and emotional and disturbing for both of them when they first see each other again after a long, cold distance because for the first time they’re not identical.

For as long as Elros and Elrond can remember, they can see their reflection in their twin. And suddenly, they’re unrecognizably different.

But Elros still has pointed ears.

And he hates them. 

Like they trigger his dysphoria so badly and Men either give him like, awe-struck stares or like, dirty looks. Depends. And that, of course, only makes him hate himself more. 

And Elrond loves his twin. He loves Elros to bits. So he wants to help him with this even though it breaks his heart, because it’s the one feature they still share in common. 

But he does it. He does it anyway. He figures out a way to reshape Elros’ ears for him because he wants nothing more than for his brother to be happy and to feel like himself, and he wants Elros to know that even though they made different Choices, he accepts and loves him, and he will eternally. No matter what.

Okay enough rambling: SNIPPET

It had been a longer road to healing than Elrond had anticipated. But that was another thing that had changed. Their sense of time was so unbelievably different. The past few weeks had gone by in an eyeblink for him, but not a day passed that Elros did not complain of how long it was taking for the surgery to heal. And it did, admittedly, take longer than it should have.

No, he corrected himself.

There was no ‘should have’ with Elros.

Not anymore.

They stood together at the mirror in Elros’ bedroom. Elros, at Elrond’s insistence, had covered his eyes with his hands. Elrond couldn’t help but stare at the two of them: Elros’ beard and lightly-haired arms, Elrond’s own smooth skin. He had grown a little taller than Elros, too. Nearly imperceptibly so, but they had once been the same height hair-for-hair. 

Elrond had loved Elros’ ears. They had been his own ears. The last reminder of what they shared. The last bit of him that was Elros. And now, no longer.

“Are you ready?” he whispered, trying to keep the grief out of his voice.

Elros nodded. “Yes,” he breathed. 

“No peeking. Not until I say.” 

He could imagine the way Elros was scowling beneath his interlaced fingers. Elrond unwrapped the bandages from around his head and, with trembling hands, touched the shell of Elros’ ear. Elros sucked in a sharp breath. The suture scars were still visible where he had trimmed and reshaped the cartilage. There was only one final step.

He began to sing the cantrip he had devised, touching first the right ear, then the left, until at last it looked as if they had always grown that way. Round. Like a Man’s.

“There.” Elrond’s chest hurt. He scrubbed at the tears building in his eyes so Elros wouldn’t see them. “There,” he said again, injecting as much of a smile into his voice as he could stomach. “You can look.”

It was worth it to see the look on Elros’ face when he saw himself. Worth it to see that little bit of starlight return to his gray eyes such that Elrond had not seen in an Age. And oh, it hurt to look at him. To look at his twin. His brother. He was struck with a sense of wrongness which he swiftly rejected.

This was what Elros wanted. This was how he saw himself. He beamed as he traced the new shape with the tips of his fingers, over and over, feeling for a seam, a scar, anything. But there was none. No painful reminder of what they had looked like before. Only new skin. New beginnings.

I need to actually finish this one of these days because it kills me. But for now it sits in my docs folder. I’ll get to it lmao. When I can like, see through my tears to finish typing it because I cry every damn time I stare at this. 

[brothermouse]

I'm just thinking about the first Christmas.

Mary feels a new blister forming and curses under her breath, so quiet Joseph can't hear. She fought too hard to come along on this trip to let him see an ounce of regret. She didn't have to come. Any sane person would tell her to just stay home, especially with how far along the pregnancy was. But she would walk hot, dusty roads and be covered head to toe with blisters for the rest of her life it it meant she didn't have to put up with the other women in the village.

They always seemed ready with some sharp catty comment, some new way to say the obvious without saying the obvious. She had been pregnant longer than she had been married, and everyone knew it. They would excitedly mention how big she was getting, almost as if they knew that she felt like an overstuffed cow. They would causally ask when she was expecting and then ask to be reminded when her wedding was, smugly implying that they had already done the math. It might have been better if they just came out and called her a slut. At least then she could yell at them. Then she could fight back. Then she could run crying into the strong, protective arms of her husband and he'd hold her and tell her that both she and he know the truth, and that's all that matters.

But even Joseph was different. Before all of this, he had been kind, loving, maybe a little clueless and awkward, but she found that part of him cute. But now? Now he seemed cold and distant. He didn't touch her anymore. No hugs and kisses like other newlyweds. He barely held her hand as her ever bulging self waddled about the house. He seemed almost afraid of her, like she was made of fragile glass or was some wild animal, ready to bite his hand off if he got too close. To be fair, some days she did feel like a strange beast, but her wild wrath was always meant for the town gossips. Towards Joseph she only felt sadness and grief for the kind man who seemed to vanish overnight.

Joseph, for his part, wasn't afraid of Mary. He was afraid of that thing growing inside of her. That Messiah. 'What even is a Messiah?' he would ask himself, 'What would it even look like?' Question after question after question filled his head and choked his tongue. Would the Messiah pop out, fully formed and armed for battle, before riding to Rome to behead Caesar, slaughtering heathens and gentiles along the way? Would it be like a rabbi, and call him and his wife to repentance for some yet unknown slight against God? Why does a Messiah need a father?  Does a Messiah need a father? Doubts filled him and crippled him.

He would steal glances at Mary. She was sweaty and dirty and a little angry-looking. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He wanted to grab her, lift the small delightfully plumped woman over his head and tell her all the ways she made him feel. But what if that broke the rules? What if his own uncleanliness some how befouled her? She was a holy vessel, like the Ark of the Covenant, and he was just...Joseph, the guy who cut wood.

Even without the angels and prophesies, Joseph would have felt unsure. Technically he was a grown man. He had lived the appropriate number of years, gone through the right ceremonies, done everything that everyone says make you a man. But still, whenever he saw those broad-chested, thick bearded men who seemed to have all the answers he saw he gap between himself and them. Real men had the answers. Real men knew what to do when their children were born. Real men could manage to say more than three words to their own wives.

Late in the day they arrive in town. Joseph curses himself. He should have known the trip would take longer with Mary. He should have planned ahead. Mary quietly curses again. Seems the baby didn't like all that walking and is kicking her kidneys in rebellion. She looks at Joseph, hoping he can see her pain, hoping he'll at least acknowledge it.

“I'll find an inn. ” He mumbles to her, knowing that a real man would have scooped her up in thick, strong arms and said “Not to worry, my radiant jewel! I'll have a roof over your head before the stars can grow jealous of your beauty!”

The sun dips below the hills and still no inn. Joseph wants to tell his wife that he's sorry. That she deserves better. That she deserves a real man by her side. One who would wrap her up in the finest silks and build a grand palace around her, wherever she wishes. But the most he can manage is rushing to the next inn, and hoping there's room for two.

Mary is growing concerned. What started as the baby rebellion has turned into all out war. Why didn't she just stay home? Why did she want so badly to spend time with a husband who seemed more concerned with chatting with unhelpful innkeepers than his own suffering wife? If she wanted to have a baby and be ignored by Joseph, she could have done that at home! At least at home she had her cousin Elizabeth to talk to. The contractions were getting closer now. Elizabeth had warned her about this. It was only a matter of time before the baby arrived.

As soon as Joseph wandered in arm's reach Mary snatched his robe.

“It's coming.” she says through gritted teeth.

“What is?”

“The baby!” Mary grunts.

Joseph turns pale. A thousand new questions and doubts fill his mind. “Where-”

“Anywhere!” Mary hisses through the pain. “An ally, a hut, a stable! Anywhere that isn't here!”

They enter a stable, a stubborn cow is woken up and moved to make room. Joseph feels remarkably out of his depth. He always though that when this day came, Elizabeth would be there to handle things and he would help by looking after little baby John. Only a few months old, John was a funny kid with an unparalleled knack for getting bugs in his mouth. Joseph liked John. Would a Messiah eat bugs? Joseph shakes his head back to the present. In a panic he asks Mary what he should do.

Mary meets Joseph's eyes. They are big and brown and filled with concern. They are the eyes of the man she loves. She wants to bask in the warm, manly kindness of those eyes forever, but another contraction cruelly pulls her away.

“Water!” she grunts, remembering what she can from Elizabeth's occasional words of advice, “and cloth!”

Joseph scrambles for the needed materials, but the pained screams of his wife tear at his soul. A real man wouldn't need to scramble for scraps with his wife in pain. In his heart he cries to God. He begs for an answer, just one answer to any one of his endless questions.

Mary lies on a pile of hay, eyes filled with tears, body filled with pain, and heart filled with loneliness. So few people could understand the pain of her soul, and the one person who she wanted most to understand, the one person who was physically closest to her was worlds away. She prays between agonized gasps for relief.

Mary screams to high heaven and Joseph's heart shatters. He can't do anything for her. She deserves so much more than he can give, and he can't even bring himself to give her a competent hand.

“I'm sorry” he gasps. And he runs out of the stable into the street. He shouts and screams and cries for help. A city of strangers huddles in their beds and ignores him. He spies a group of men. Desperate, he rushes upon them, grabs their woolly, sheepskin robes and begs them to help. Through childish tears and snot and sobs he explains his predicament.

One of the younger men huffs. He says they have something important to do tonight. One of the oldest men waves a hand and his young companion and claps an arm around Joseph. “We're used to delivering lambs,” he says, patting Joseph on the back, “But I think we can manage a child, just for tonight.”

In the stable, Mary clutches her belly. She's been abandoned. Her only companion now is an irate cow glaring at her from the the corner. Another contraction comes and she clenches her eyes. Suddenly something grabs her hand. She slaps it away, thinking it's the cow, getting impatient. It gabs her hand again. She opens her eyes and sees Joseph. His big, kind, brown eyes filled with tears. She squeezes his hand back. Suddenly she is surrounded by a small army of strangers.

“They're here to help.” Joseph says.

And they do help. With practiced precision each one fills a task. Water is fetched, clean cloth is produced. Shortly a tiny, pink, screaming baby is introduced into the stable. The cow wanders out, giving up getting sleep in this stable on this night.

The strangers hand the baby to Mary. She is tired. She feels like she's been stretched out a mile. She looks at the baby, wondering if she had been screaming this loud a moment ago. She's about to fall asleep. She shakes off the exhaustion and remembers something Elizabeth told her. Wrap the baby up tightly as soon as you can, so he can grow up nice and tall. She tries to calm the baby while fishing for spare cloth.

Meanwhile the strangers are beginning to leave, but Joseph delays them. He wants them to teach him. He wants to know how to be a man, a father, a husband. He stumbles over his words, trying to get the question right. The strangers are insistent, though. They have something important to do tonight.

Mary has finally got the baby wrapped up, and that seems to have calmed him. Exhaustion is pulling at her eyelids like iron weights. The baby needs a place to sleep. A nearby manger has relatively clean hay. She puts her baby there and lies back for her own long sleep.

Joseph is stumbling over his words as the strangers grow more insistent that they have to leave. Suddenly one of the younger men begins to tremble. He tugs at his elder's robes and points to a corner of the stable. The older man looks at the manger and the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and begins to weep. The rest of the strangers follow suit, some weeping, some praying, some just standing and staring in awe. Joseph manages to eek out one more question, “What's wrong?”

The oldest man wipes the tears from his eyes and answers, “Absolutely nothing is wrong. It's just...well...” he scratches his bald head, looking for the words. “Earlier... when we were watching the sheep...there was this...angel.”

Instantly Mary snaps awake, all fatigue dispersing at that one word. “Angel?”

“Yes ma'am.” the old shepherd says sheepishly, “an angel, and-”

“I've seen one, too.” Mary says. “They're incredible!”

“And terrifying.” adds Joseph.

“And beautiful!” the Shepherd

The strange group spends the next few hours trading stories of their visions and the strange coincidences that brought them together.

While the shepherds and Mary are eagerly trying to explain the strange musical quality of an angel's voice the old Shepherd pulls Joseph aside. Joseph tries to ask twelve questions at once, but the shepherd stops him.

“She doesn't need you to have all the answers.” He tells Joseph, “She just needs you to be there.”

“But, how am I supposed to raise-”

“A day at a time. Children, sheep, men. Everything grows a day at a time.”

He gives Joseph a few more specific points of advice. And the begins to gather up his companions. He explains that the mother needs her rest, and they have sheep to feed. Slowly and reluctantly the shepherds are herded out.

Mary now feels more tired than ever. The baby begins to fuss. Joseph steps in and rocks his son.

He lies down next to Mary.

Haltingly, unsure, she moves towards him. His arm wraps around her and draws her in close. She rests her head on his chest and stares at her little baby boy. Her thoughts turn to the catty gossips of Nazareth. Without thinking she voices her fears, “What will they say when we come back home with a baby?”

Joseph squeezes her tighter, “Whatever they want. We know the truth. Besides, if it gets too bad, I'll bet we can get those shepherds to beat them up for us.”

Mary looks at Joseph, her tired mind trying to grasp what he just said. The joke dawns on her and she beings to laugh. Then as the emotional dam begins to burst the laughter turns to tears, and tears eventually fade into sleep. All the while Her husband holds her in his strong, protective arms.

And that's what I think the First Christmas was like; messy, loud, and full of people who had no idea what they were doing. So don’t feel bad if your Christmas is messy, loud and full of doubt. It puts you in good company.

[draqcnheartstrinq]

Hate That I Want You (Part 6)

Sirius Black x Pure-blood!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: At first it’s hate, then it’s confusion. It grows into a healthy amount of curiosity until it turns into hate once more. But not towards each other, more towards the idea of wanting what you’ve tried to avoid all your life.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, emotions, anger.

Note: It's been a long wait but suddenly got a lot of inspiration and got back into my Hogwarts feels! I miss this magical world so badly.

Feedback is always greatly appreciated!

HTIWY Masterpost

You weren’t used to visiting the Headmaster’s Office and yet that’s exactly where you were called to as soon as you entered Hogwarts Grounds. You imagined Dumbledore wanted to talk to you about your leave, how you will continue classes now you’re back and maybe about how you experienced the funeral.

Maybe Professor Dumbledore would be the kind listening ear you so desperately needed, no one else had ever bothered being that person for you… Except for Grandma.

But you knew that was wishful thinking, besides it would probably be highly unprofessional for a headmaster to get involved in pupils’ private business.

Seeing the big gargoyle statue, that was supposed to be the entrance to his office,  extremely intimidated you and as no one was there to guide you inside you waited whilst taking deep breaths. Five minutes must have gone by before you heard stone moving against stone and the spinning of the gargoyle caught your attention. A staircase appeared from the ground up.

Knowing no better you placed yourself on one of the moving steps and let yourself be carried upwards.

“I see you made it back to school, Miss (Y/L/N)”, you heard an old deep voice say as soon as you reached the top, the stairs underneath you locked into place. The big wooden door was already opened and through it you could see a beautifully decorated desk, Dumbledore partially leaning against it.

You walked inside, looking around like a tourist in London and finally answered after taking in the grandeur of the interior. “Yes I did, Professor. I hope nothing important took place whilst I was gone?”

The old man smirked at you, looking over his glasses as if your question sounded funny to him. Nonetheless, he seemed friendly about it all.

“No, nothing too important and certainly not as eventful as before you left.”

That statement made you look up, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. You could’ve been mistaken for a deer in headlights.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t think I understand…”

“Miss (Y/L/N), I know about everything that goes on in this school’s hallways and I know about everyone that resides here. You’re not going to tell me you thought I was going to do nothing about what happened between you and Mr. Black.”

Your mouth now fell open and your eyes widened until you almost believed they would fall out of your skull. Great, The Headmaster knew about the howler and probably every word that your mother had written inside of it. Everyone would be stamping you as a follower of The Dark Lord, a Mudblood killer, a believer of purity. Now even your headmaster knew about the dark family you were born in.

He probably knew about them for a long time but now? There was no doubting he would judge you too…

“Miss, how did the funeral affect you? Was your grandmother very dear to you?”

This question threw you even more, surely he wouldn’t actually be asking you if you were okay. The confusion must’ve been evident on your features as Dumbledore started smiling again.

“I loved my grandmother, more than I loved anyone else probably.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss then. I hope you can find some comfort between these walls.”

More than I could ever get at home, you thought.

The funeral was very small, your parents and other relatives didn’t want to catch a lot of attention from outsiders and most probably didn’t want to pay for someone as ‘not important’ as your grandma. You were the only one to buy a bouquet of white and yellow flowers for her, the ones she always said she loved so much.

The look on your face must have screamed all the things you were feeling for the headmaster took it upon himself to talk some confidence into you. It was nothing but unexpected, the way he seemed to care for one of his students, let alone you.

“Miss (Y/L/N), I doubt anyone in Hogwarts is left to wonder what your intentions are. The most wonderful and strong souls hold the most painful secrets after all.”

It’s those words, spoken by a man you barely knew, that have brought you the most comfort in the past five days. He said it softly but with determination, it made you believe what he said, no matter the words he spoke. It made you wonder.

A silence fell over the room. Whilst you were fighting through thoughts in your head, thinking about yourself, your grandmother, what was to come your way here at Hogwarts, Dumbledore walked to the other side of his desk and sat himself down on his big almost golden chair. It could resemble a throne if you didn’t know any better.

The man intertwined his hands and sat there for a little while, looking at you over his glasses like a grandfather would at his grandchild.

“You must be a little lost right now but don’t worry, everything will fall back onto its feet. In the meantime I’m sure young Mr. Black will do everything in his power to make things right.”

“I’m sorry headmaster, but I highly doubt that”, you answered, genuinely convinced Sirius couldn’t care any less about what happened to you.

“I guess you will have to take my word for it then.” And once again Dumbledore spoke with such confidence in his words that you couldn’t help but doubt your own opinions. Maybe all the rumors were true, maybe this man in front of you really had a third eye seeing everything all at once. Even in the magical world you lived in this was something to be admired.

“Please close the door on your way out, Miss (Y/LN), and give my regards to your dormmates. Also say hello to Sirius downstairs.”

Your eyes went wide because just like that the conversation was over. A little overwhelmed and at the same time underwhelmed you made your way back down the winding staircase. Out of all the things the headmaster could’ve said, he stayed vague, didn’t say a word about the classes you missed and what in the bloody Merlin’s beard did he mean by Say hello to Sirius downstairs.

You couldn’t even finish that last thought before you saw two exhausted grey eyes looking back at you. Two lips parted, panting away as if the guy had run his lungs out of his chest. After a few seconds the rustling of paper caught your attention as you looked down towards his hands. They held a bundle of parchment, tightly almost like a lifeline.

When you looked back up at his face Sirius started talking, no, more like rambling. With every word your anger grew.

“I talked to your friends, well, the girls talked to your friends and I stood there listening, but they said you would need detailed summaries of the lessons you missed this week and I thought maybe some more from me would help. Maybe your roommates missed out on some stuff so I wanted to make sure to give my notes on top of theirs because maybe you would need them… And I know it’s not much, but I- I really hope you’ll take them because I don’t want you to lack behind because of this situation you’re in and… I’m sorr-”

“Save it, Black.”

Your hard and unforgiving tone made him look up from the ground he was rambling towards. He finally met your eyes and saw the anger you held in them. He didn’t blame you, he understood, he was prepared for it because of the thousands of times he played this moment in his head the last few days.

He was prepared for the frown he saw, he had imagined it to be so much worse than it was. But he wasn’t prepared for the other emotions he also read on your features.

Sorrow, grief, fatigue, exhaustion, loneliness,...

The list could go on but none of the emotions were anything positive.

He could probably write an essay about all the things he saw by just looking at your face. Sirius wondered how long you had been dragging these feelings along without ever giving them a voice, without ever breaking your front. The first time he saw you break was in The Great Hall after receiving your howler but your act was quickly regained, the second time was in the hallway when you looked at him like he broke your entire world, after the news of your grandma had been revealed to the whole school. And now a third time.

It took him more than six years to see what others had long before him. It took him six years to see an ounce of humanity in you. Now that he did see, he saw more than he could bear. More than anyone should have to carry.

“Please, I- I just want you to take my notes. It’ll help you, it’ll give me a peace of mind.”

“And where is my peace of mind?” you questioned him, less angry and more disappointed this time. Another emotion Sirius didn’t like to see.

Your voice quivered just enough to reveal a whole new load of feelings. Your eyes searched his for something he couldn’t decipher, they looked pleadingly before closing and your chest rising with a deep shaking breath.

When they opened again your whole demeanor was as unreadable as all those years before. Not a single sign of any emotion left. You looked just… indifferent like always.

Sirius didn’t know which of these states of yours he disliked the most. The one where you let go of everything, showing all the things you feel in one single look at your eyes or the one where you show absolutely nothing at all.

“I don’t want your notes, give them to one of your latest conquests.”

With those words you took off towards the dungeons, steady pace, the sound of your shoes echoing.

The guy you left standing there nothing more than a boy watching his hopes walk away from him, papers still crumbling in his grip, regrets still twirling in his mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A long while later Sirius finally entered the Gryffindor Common Room again. He sat himself on one of the couches away from the hearth, throwing the papers onto a nearby table to rest his head in his hands.

He had expected this to go so different from the way it actually went. He had hoped for an acceptance of the notes he took, maybe a loud argument or a back and forth of shouted words. That way he would’ve at least known you had your energy back, he would’ve seen that burning fire like every time you would normally cross him in the halls.

Instead he got the ashes of a fire that lost its last substance to burn. A wood that had been exhausted, burned to the ground, wet with rain from a storm. Nothing left to give.

“I take it she didn’t want the summary”, Remus came to sit next to him on the red cushions. A quiet chatter finally reached Sirius’ ears as he realised they weren’t the only ones still awake. He looked around him, before turning his attention on Remus and his face back to the floor with his elbows on  his thighs, supporting himself.

“No, and honestly I don’t blame her.” It came out as a whisper, not enough energy left in the boy’s body to speak any louder. “I’m mentally exhausted and that doesn’t even begin to describe how she is feeling, Remus, she looked so… so… I don’t even know if there are words to say how she looked.”

“You’ve finally seen what we’ve seen for a few months now, some of us years.”

“I think even a blind person would’ve seen it before I did.”

“Most probably”, Remus chuckled and threw his arms over the back of the couch. “She’ll come around, she’ll forgive you if you keep it obvious how sorry you are.”

“Will she?” Sirius let that question linger between them for a little, he let it sink in. “Because I sure wouldn’t forgive me.”

It was Remus’ turn to sigh. He too had his doubts but wanted to keep his friends’ hopes high.

“No, You’re right, I wouldn’t forgive you either.”

They looked at each other, Sirius slumping his shoulders. Remus then watches the stars outside of the window and the deep blue sky visible from the inside of the common room.

“Let’s hope she’s a better person than we are.”

HTIWY Masterpost

Thanks for reading! Taglist will follow in a reblog. Want to be added or removed? Send me an ask xxx

[thepeakygurl]

Bittersweet Tragedy

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Prompt: you and Draco have been dating for quite a while, until you started to grow apart and one day you saw him with someone else, leaving you heartbroken.

Angst.

The summer crawled miserably by and yet, he didn’t care to send an owl. For months you wished, every night and morning since that darned day, for Draco to make amends but with your most feared expectations he didn’t.

Love as they made it sound in novels, was nothing compared to what you and Draco shared. The understanding you had of each other was beyond love and sometimes, that scared you. Being deeply connected to someone up to the point where you felt you knew them even before meeting them, that kind of bond. Falling in love was easy as making a spell, but staying in love and cherish it, that was a bit more tricky. Because, regardless all the sentiments and the good intentions, you and Draco were different in so many ways. He was reckless, impulsive and bad tempered, you on your side were more cautious, attentive and easily irritable, so much that fighting was almost as making love. However, at the end of the day, those same differences got closer you and made you understand, whatever there was to understand.

You couldn’t tell exactly when or how, but something changed. One day you were hiding in the Slytherin dorms, trying to slid inside his room without being notice and the other you end up walking across him without the guts to look at each other. Somehow, you became the ghost of each other, so hard to forget and persistently there. You were still together by that time, too in love to say goodbye and admit to yourself that it was over. He simply didn’t look at you the same way. You felt it in your bones, the coldness when he last said the words I love you, the emptiness that were filling those words almost made you fall on your knee, as you never heard such words being said so carelessly. It hurt, it really did. But you knew love was still there, it had to be. You wanted it to be.

And perhaps, that’s why you thought it was a good idea to sneak into the Slytherin dorms again, once more, to come along and talk to him about how you were feeling. Nothing however could have prepared you for what you saw. Him, your boyfriend, the guy you were in love and in desperate need to have back, caressing the cheek of another girl. Their bodies so close to each other, as close as he used to be with you. They were smiling, a smile that you didn’t see in Draco for weeks now and it hurt more than a kiss. A kiss you could argue, is about the contemplation of the flesh, but a smile, that is more about feeding the soul. That thought broke something within your chest, whether it was your heart or whatever was inside there, it broke. Nothing in those years ever hurt as much.

And when he saw you, standing there just a few meters between you and him, visibly shook and speechless he didn’t say or do anything. He just looked. That day something got broke also inside of him. The thought of hurting you, that hunted him ever since he first laid a kiss on your lips. Torturing him so much that temptation got the best out of him. People always said you were too much for him. Too good, too gorgeous, too loyal, too real. And they were right, he also knew that and how foul of him to think he could keep such a beautiful thing. Truth is, before you, he never knew what falling in love could possibly mean. The only love he knew was his mother’s and also that one could be wicked. As much as an excuse that could feel like, he thought that perhaps letting you go could do nothing but good to you. He saw how miserable you were because of him, because his own insecurities and fears. You were slowly sliding away from him and he tried to hold you tight, he did try, but something was telling him to let go. And so he did.

For the whole summer he so desperately wanted to talk to you, to say how sorry he was and how much he missed you, but he felt as if he didn’t have the right to do so and even think of doing it was making him selfish and that he couldn’t be with you.

Going back to Hogwarts was not easy, but you had your friends and they on their part were not going to stand by and watch you drawn in your own shadow. That was a relief. Few months went but and now smiling was the only thing you could do, laughing and making memories you knew no one could take away from you. But still, seeing Draco and couldn’t even say hello to him, that saddened you. You wouldn’t admit it even to yourself, but love, some parts of it was still there.

So time flied this time, it was now spring and you loved this time of the year. You loved to watch how the tree bloomed from their sorrow into their own majestic beauty. The colours and the flowers, signs that everything goes and eventually everything returns.

You shared the potion lessons with the Slytherin house, you were by then used to it. However you didn’t prepare yourself for what was about to come next. The professor asked you all to perform the Amortentia potion. Part of you feared to smell it, that all the questions you were asking yourself, laid all in the potion you had now in front of you. Without even realising it, you were already smelling vanilla, the sweet of green apples, honey and citrus. Wonderful and aromatic scents that you knew very well. You heart started to ache so badly, that you almost didn’t realise some tears were sliding down your cheeks. The last thing you remember was standing up and running out of the class, with the professor calling you out.

Draco was looking at you the whole time, asking himself if you as well were being invaded by the memories and you gave him the chance to believe you did. He followed you, not giving a damn about the professor now calling him out too. He quickly run towards you, you were now in the hallway trying to desperately wipe away those silly tears “Y/N...” he called out, that voice made your whole body shiver, you didn’t turn you didn’t want him to see you like that, especially because it was he’s own doing. “Are you alright?” He asked, his voice being breathy as he tried to chase you seemed now in a brittle.

“Since when do you care?” Those words left your mouth so quick and easily that you hated yourself, you didn’t want to effectively talk to him, after all what was there to talk about? You now turned to him. His eyes were a bit red, you could tell he was forcing himself to maintain a straight serious face, he was the same as handsome as ever. With his stupid silky blonde hair and his icy blue eyes.

He froze as he hard you say those words, the guilt invaded him in less than a second “I always cared, I still do, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Don’t you think?”

“Oh, you don’t get to sass me out like that.” You said, allowing yourself to burst into a small sarcastic laugh “As a matter of fact, you don’t get to speak to me at all!” You yelled at him.

You never did such a thing and that almost made him took a step back, he never saw you like that. Something inside of him wanted to just hug you and beg for your forgiveness “I’m sorry for what I did to you. I am. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but know this, I am really sorry y/n” his voice cracked a little and you would lie to yourself if you didn’t say you saw a few tears in his eyes.

“You didn’t write or attempted to talk to me in any way. For Merlin’s beard, Draco! You didn’t even broke up with me!” Your voice echoed in the whole hallway and you knew that you were moments aways of being taken to detention “You coward goblin! Did you think so little of me that you didn’t even care to tell me we were over?”

Draco once again, felt something get broken as you were speaking “I didn’t speak, write or attempted to do anything because I didn’t want it to be over. I made a mistake I know that, but even as I made it I never stopped loving you”

“Love, Draco, love is not something you should say so recklessly. When you love someone you don’t give up on them.” You were now shacking, but in some wicked way you were glad to be having this conversation, you wanted him to know how much he hurt you “I know we were having problems, but I thought we respected each other enough to speak about it, to eventually say goodbye without all of this nonsense!”

“I didn’t give up on you y/n! For merlin’s beard!” His voice was now raucous, but almost loud “I gave up on me. Don’t you understand? Being with me was making you miserable, you weren’t happy! How could you lie to yourself about it?! We reached a point were neither of us were able to look each other in the eye!”

“I wasn’t miserable because I was with you, I was miserable because I wanted to fix us, but I couldn’t find a way” you yelled back at him, your throat was now hurting, so bad that you had to slowly massage your neck. “It wasn’t your choice to make. You selfishly end it for the both of us, you weren’t the only one to be part of this relationship.” You whispered out, but he was close enough to hear you clearly.

Draco hesitated before speaking again, you were right, as always “I still love you. I really do.” He whispered as well, trying to grab your hand in his but you took a step back. He looked at you, your eyes were different, you changed in someway that he couldn’t yet explain.

“But that isn’t enough anymore, you know it too.” And you as well saw a change in him, or maybe that was what he was all along, you just were too in love to see it. “Goodbye Draco.” You said, walking now towards the professor that was already on his way to scold the both of you.

Closure. A young love that started in its purest way, was now a long distant memory. A bittersweet tragedy that Draco and yourself would always cherish in your hearts.

[mldrgrl]

Hi. I was wondering if you could write and AU fic where after Mulder shaves his beard baby William can't recognize him anymore and only wants his mama. It could be set between the last seasons or even during IWTB, is up to you. Your writing is amazing ❤

Thank you, Anon.  I totally intended to give you what you wanted, and then I forgot to follow instructions.  This can be an AU/post-Trust No 1 story.

He Knows

It’s late when she picks her son up from her mother’s house.  She should leave him there, let him spend the night in the pack ‘n play undisturbed, but she can’t be away from him right now.  Not when she was so close to seeing his father again and had the opportunity slip away.  She needs to hold him, smell the top of his fuzzy little head and remind herself that she still has a piece of Mulder with her.

William falls back to sleep in the car as Monica drives them back home.  Scully nearly falls asleep herself.  She’s been running on hope and adrenaline for days and with a failed reunion as the end result, exhaustion has taken over.

“Do you want me to come up with you?” Monica asks.

Scully shakes her head.  “No,” she answers.  “I appreciate it, but I just need��”

Monica nods in understanding.  They say no more.  Scully gets out of the car and opens the back to unlock William’s carrier.  The baby flinches slightly when the door is closed, rolls his eyes open, but doesn’t really wake.  Monica waits until Scully is inside the building to pull away.

The carrier is heavy in Scully’s arms and weighs her down.  She trudges into the foyer of her building and trudges up the single flight of stairs.  She’s starting to tremble and she wills herself to wait until she’s inside to fall apart.  Wait until she has William down so he doesn’t see her.  As soon as she opens the door, she sets the carrier down inside so she can drop her keys and shed her coat, but she doesn’t make it that far.

“Don’t turn on the light,” a soft voice to her right murmurs.

She freezes.  “Mulder?” she whispers.  Her eyes dart through the dark room, searching.

“I’m here.”

“Oh my God.”  

He’s a dark figure coming slowly towards her, all shimmers and shadows.  She shuts her eyes, squeezes them tight, and then opens them again to see if it’s only wishful thinking playing a cruel trick.

“Scully,” he breathes.

“Mulder,” she answers.

His hands are on her face and his mouth is on hers and it’s all real and not a dream.  He feels differently to her, thinner than he used to be, and the whiskers of a full beard tickle her chin and cheeks.  She whimpers and folds her arms tightly around the back of his neck, lifting onto her toes to get as close as possible.  He takes his hands off her face to wrap his arms around her, squeeze her tight, and she breaks from their kiss to hide her sudden tears in the crook of his neck.  She clings to him and he holds her, rocking her from side to side until William squawks lightly in his carrier, reminding her that she’s not the only one that’s been waiting for this reunion.

Mulder releases Scully with a nervous chuckle.  She wipes her wet cheeks and bends to pick up the carrier, shushing the baby quietly as she takes him into the bedroom.  Mulder follows.  He turns the blinds as she sets the carrier on the bed and then switches the bedside lamp on low.  

William blinks and squirms.  Mulder blinks and stares.  Scully shifts her eyes between the two of them and unhooks the baby from the carrier.  “Guess who’s here,” she murmurs, her lips against the soft shell of William’s ear.  She finally gets a good look at Mulder as she stands cheek to cheek with their son.  He’s wearing a rumpled sweatsuit and looks as tired as she feels, but relieved as well, like he’s dropped a heavy burden he’s been carrying.  She’s taken back to the moment nine months ago when she first placed the baby in his arms and she comes closer.

“He may not want me to...” Mulder says, taking a step back, but he opens his arms anyway.  He’s eager, she can tell, but nervous.

“Go see Daddy,” she whispers, passing William to his father.

The emotion of the moment is written on Mulder’s face.  He’s the happiest Scully has ever seen him, taking his son into his arms, perhaps even more in awe than the first time he held him.  William looks up at Mulder with a pensive expression, the tuft of his left eyebrow lifting in skepticism he could only have inherited from his mother.  

Mulder lifts William a little higher in his arms and looks at him all over like he’s trying to memorize everything about him.  “I’ve tried to imagine what he looked like,” he says.  “What he...just, everything about him.”

“He’s got six teeth now,” Scully answers.  “Pears are his favorite food.  We usually read The Very Hungry Caterpillar before bed.  He sleeps through the night.”

“Nice to know one of us does.”

Scully chuckles softly.  “He babbles a lot to himself, but hasn’t said his first word yet.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t have anything to say quite yet,” Mulder says.  “You’ll talk when you’re ready, won’t you?”

In response, William reaches up to grab hold of the whiskers on Mulder’s cheek, taking a fistful with a strong grip.  Mulder winces, but laughs, taking William’s hand in his and bringing it to his mouth to kiss his chubby little fist.

“I know, I know,” Mulder says.  “I look a little different from when we last saw each other.”

William drops his head suddenly and rests it on Mulder’s shoulder.  Mulder splays his hand out against William’s back and bends to kiss the top of his head.  Tears gather in Scully’s eyes again and she brushes them away.  Mulder glances at her and opens one arm to her to invite her in.  She steps into his embrace and feels him sigh as she rests her cheek against his chest.  She watches William grow sleepy again and struggle to keep his eyes open.  He rubs his face against Mulder’s shoulder, giving a frustrated snuffle as he fights off sleep.

“I should put him down,” Scully says.  

“Do we have to?” Mulder asks.

Scully lifts her head and looks up to see the longing in Mulder’s eyes.  Her heart stutters in her chest.  She moves to the bed, clears the carrier off, and turns the comforter down.  “Come,” she says.

As Mulder sits down, Scully kneels.  She unlaces his tennis shoes and slips them off before he swings his legs up onto the bed and slides back against the pillows, cradling William against his shoulder all the while.  She quickly removes her jacket and steps out of her own shoes before she lies down beside him.

William is slack against Mulder’s chest, his face tipped up and mouth open near his father’s neck.  Mulder cups the back of the baby’s head gently as he adjusts to a more comfortable position and then closes his eyes.

“I was so afraid I’d never see you again,” Scully whispers.  “I thought I’d lost my only chance tonight.  To have you back...I’ve missed you so much.”

Mulder swallows and tips his head back further.  He doesn’t open his eyes, but tightens his jaw.  She touches his face, strokes the scratchy and unfamiliar whiskers at his chin.  He pulls away, kisses William’s head and then tries to pass the baby over to Scully.

“What’re you doing?” she asks, sitting up, refusing to take the baby.

“I told myself it would just be for a minute.  Just to see you and William, to know you’re alright, but it was a mistake.”

“What’re you talking about?”  She pushes into his shoulder, holding him down against the pillows as she looms over him.  

His eyes are bloodshot and watery.  “I’m putting you in danger.”

She shakes her head.  “You’re wrong,” she says.  “The danger is in not being together.”

“What do you want me to do, Dana?  Tell me what you want because I’m tired of running and I’m tired of hiding, but I will disappear forever if it means you’re safe.  If William is safe.”

“If you think I’m letting you walk out of here alone you’re insane.”

William jerks at the intensity in Scully’s voice.  He whimpers and turns his head back and forth on Mulder’s shoulder.  Mulder shushes him quietly and runs a soothing hand down his back.

“Whatever we do from now on, we do it together,” she says, emphatically, but quietly, so she doesn’t disturb the baby.  “If you go, we’re coming with you.”

“Absolutely not.  Scully, you don’t know what you’re saying.  Hiding.  Looking over your shoulder all the time.  That’s not the kind of life our son deserves.”

“I know that he deserves to know his father.”  She stops, her voice suddenly thick with emotion and throat closing almost painfully.  She swallows it down.  “I deserve...Mulder, we deserve…after everything we’ve been through...we deserve to finally, finally be together.”

“You don’t know how badly I want that.”

“I don’t want to do this alone,” she whispers.  “I don’t know if I can.”

Mulder turns his eyes to hers, instantly recognizing his former plea to her in the hallway of his apartment many years ago.  “If we quit now, they win,” he responds.

“Let them.  Let them win.  We have already lost so much, Mulder.  But, this...”  She lays her hand over Mulder’s on William’s back.  “You told me once that there was so much more out there than the x-files.  This is it, Mulder.  This is the something else.  We could walk away and have this.”

“It would be…”

“It would be worth walking away for.”

He nods slightly and that pacifies Scully for now.  She lays down beside him again and puts her arm around him.  Mulder reaches over and snaps the lamp off.  The weight of his son on his chest is both familiar and foreign, but it feels right in the same way that Scully beside him as always felt.  

Mulder sleeps heavily and wakes alone.  He can hear quiet noises in the kitchen and the low murmur of Scully’s voice.  He’s awash in sorrow, knowing it was wrong of him to come here, knowing he has to leave and what it will do to them.  His heart is breaking just thinking about it.  If it were possible to sneak out somehow, he just might consider it, but he’s afraid Scully would never forgive him for taking the coward’s way out.

Heavy and mournful, Mulder gets out of bed and shuffles into the kitchen.  He smells coffee.  William is at the head of the table in his high chair stuffing what looks like Cheerios and banana into his mouth.  Scully is buttering toast at the counter and she looks over her shoulder at him.

“Hey,” Mulder says.

Scully smiles and it makes his chest hurt.  “Good morning,” she says.  “Coffee?”

“Sure.”  Mulder sits down in the empty chair to the right of William.  William offers him a Cheerio, which he pretends to eat.  William giggles and kicks his foot.

Scully sets a mug of coffee in front of Mulder and puts her hand lightly on William’s head as she moves to sit down across from Mulder.  Mulder sips his coffee.  Scully takes dainty bits of toast and sips orange juice.  William chases Cheerios around the tray of his high chair with his index finger and then pokes at a slice of banana, smashing it to a pulp before closing his fist around it and pushing it into his mouth.  The clock in the kitchen ticks ominously.

“You kept the fish,” Mulder says, nodding at the fish tank at the tank by the wall.

“William likes them.”

“Um, about last night,” Mulder says, lowering his eyes to his coffee mug.  “What you said.  I think-”

“Dada,” William says suddenly, pointing to Mulder.

Scully looks startled.  Mulder is also taken aback, his mouth opening, but he’s unable to form words.

“Did he just…”  Scully says.

“Dada,” William says again.  He merrily kicks his foot against his high chair and shoves another fistful of mashed banana into his mouth.  He stares at Mulder with an intensity Mulder has never felt come from a baby before.

Mulder is drawn closer, leaning in to stare into William’s crystal blue gaze.  There’s something about the look in his son’s eyes that feels all-knowing and purposeful.  And there’s a sudden vision projected in his mind of a whole life ahead of him; chasing a laughing toddler down a narrow hall to get him in the bathtub, playing catch as twilight sets in, birthday parties, family movie nights on the couch with bowls of popcorn between them, building sandcastles on the beach, launching home-made rockets into space.  A feeling of pure joy floods through him.

But then, suddenly, he also sees a parallel vision that starts with him walking out of Scully’s apartment alone.  There’s Scully crying, William growing up with a different name and different parents, confused and angry, Mulder and Scully suppressed by darkness and pain.  So much darkness and pain.  It takes Mulder’s breath away for a moment and he blinks, falling back in the chair, sweating.

“Mulder?” Scully asks.

“I uh…”  He blinks again, leans closer to the baby, but William’s gaze is innocent.  And yet, there’s something there.  Something that tells Mulder this child knows more than all of them.

“Dada,” William says, reaching his sticky, banana-coated fingers out and gripping the whiskers on Mulder’s cheek.

“Oof.”  Mulder winces and pries William’s fingers loose.

“Unbelievable,” Scully says.  “I’ve tried getting him to say ‘Mama’ for weeks, and then you show up and...he’s just suddenly a Chatty Cathy.  Can you say ‘Mama,’ William?  Mama?”

“Dada,” William answers, holding a soggy Cheerio out to Scully.  She grimaces and shakes her head.

“What were you going to say about last night?” Scully asks.

William stares at Mulder with that cool, all-knowing gaze again and though it can’t be possible, Mulder can feel his son willing him to heed the warning he was just given.  Trust me, his son’s eyes are saying.  Trust me, Daddy.

“Uh, I just wanted to tell you that...you were right.  If we go, we go together.”

Scully nods and Mulder gets to his feet, stroking his sticky cheek.  William smiles and pokes at his Cheerios.

“First thing’s first though,” Mulder says.  “I need a shave.”

The End

[eikhos]

[GIFT]  his colors.   [Laszlo Kreizler x Original Howard Character.]

[FOR MY DARLING WIFE @lovie-barnes xxx i love you. ]

Rating : K.

Fandom : The Alienist. 

Characters : Original Howard Character,   Laszlo Kreizler, Sara Howard,  John Moore,  brief appareance of Stevie and original character.

“The strings of her corset tightened sharply,, making the air from Alice's lungs get  brutally expelled, she clenched her teeth as her maid bent down to put the folds of her petticoat back in place. Red, bloody red that was married to black, her maid -Miyanda-, smiled at her and slowly slipped the pendant that formed a gold heart around her neck, Alice thanked her maid while checking that her hair was incapable. The youngest of the Howard family had spent several years in France, taking care to learn the language of the country while launching body and soul into her passion, painting. For many people it wasn’t a real job, but her sister, Sara, had always told her that she had a real gift. Already small, her parents found her asleep, paint staining her face and her clothes, making her mother sigh. She grabbed the pocket watch - which had belonged to her father before the accident -, and noticed that it was already seven fifty-five, Sara had given her an appointment at eight o'clock at the mysterious Doctor Kreizler’s  house even though he was not that mysterious, she had read the press, he was the Alienist, often hired as a consultant by the police to help them solve pretty sordid cases. She sighed, she had never met him and it twitched her stomach, was he going to search her soul to reveal her darkest secrets? Swallowing her saliva with difficulty, Alice stepped outside after slipping her arms into a light jacket, her coachman was waiting for her, the horses seemed slightly restless tonight.

The way to Doctor Kreizler's house was peaceful, Alice watched the childrens playing in the streets, collecting stones and taking care not to be pushed around by some men who seemed badly tipsy, Sara had advised her never to go out on her own at night, at least without a weapon. She shook her head before the coachman pulled on the reins of the horses which stopped protesting, the coachman growled under his beard before descending to help Alice down, she thanked him with a smile and approached the front of the house. Doctor Kreizler's house.

There was absolutely no doubt that the Alienist was definitely richer than half of New York. Cautiously going up the few steps to the door, Alice felt her heart leap, she knocked  lightly several times  on the heavy door, she heard voices, one of which seemed to belong,  to a young boy.

-Good evening ma'am! My name is Stevie. Are you here to see the doctor? the young boy asked with a jovial smile.

- Good evening, yes…. I -.... My sister, Sara, invited me over for the evening.  Maybe she has already arrived? Alice stammered hard, feeling her anxiety growing.

-For sure, ma'am! Miss Howard is already present as well as Mr. Moore. Oh, how stupid am i, it's not very hot and you're outside, the Doctor clearly wouldn’t  appreciate that sort of rudeness, please forgive me, the young man sighed as he let her in.

She smiled as she stepped inside, she looked around, inspecting the walls curiously, everything seemed perfectly cleaned and tidy although it would surprise her that someone like Doctor Kreizler did his daily housework himself. Young Stevie escorted her to the living room where the discussions were going well, Sara smiled and hugged her, Alice returned the hug awkwardly before smiling at John who did a bow in front of her,  making her blush. 

Leaning against the wall, a figure seemed to be absorbed in the darkness, it made her frown slightly before Sara rolled her eyes, looking vaguely annoyed, her sister glanced at John who shrugged as he grabbed a box made of wood which contained cigarettes. He lit one of the cigarettes, offered one to Alice who refused, not wishing to damage her lungs. She chatted for several minutes with her sister who asked her absolutely all the details of her trip to France, it had not been as exciting as expected but at least she had visited a country.  Alice jumped as the shadowy figure passed into the light, Doctor Laszlo Kreizler's piercing eyes fell on her, Alice bit the inside of her cheek.  His  hair was neatly groomed, his beard was trimmed to perfection, he  was wearing a very simple black suit and a waistcoat with dark gray arabesques and gold buttons. He walked over to her and gently grabbed her hand before placing a frail kiss on it.

-Laszlo, this is my sister, Alice Howard. My sister has an artistic streak, she is a painter, to the great regret of our father. -Miss Howard, a pleasure to finally meet you, Sara never ceases to brag about your talents as a painter. -The pleasure is entirely shared, Doctor Kreizler, Alice smiles softly. I have followed your work extensively over the years, I find your approach to the human mind absolutely fascinating. - Thank you, Miss Howard. Many do not share your opinion.

This made Alice smile slightly,  she nodded, continuing to observe the Alienist, she had often taken care to get all the papers that mentioned him. And now, she was in front of him, she thought as John poured four glasses of excellent scotch. She continued to nibble her lower lip mechanically, a twitch of nervousness. Alice jumped as the Alienist's fingers caught her lip gently to pull it out of her teeths. 

 -You are extremely nervous, Miss Howard. I assure you that your lower lip has nothing to do with it and biting it will not reduce your current anxiety in any way, the Alienist pointed out. Could I know what worries you so much? Would you happens to have social issues ? 

-I'm sorry, Doctor Kreizler. Since I was a child, being around other people has always been a huge source of anxiety for me. I still feel like some odd specimen put in the middle of a room full of people from other ranks, Alice sighed, gently scratching her right wrist. 

He nodded slightly, listening to it patiently before taking her right wrist in his hand, the alienist's fingers trace whitish lines that seemed encrusted in the skin, it didn't take a genius to understand the meaning of such traces. She bit her tongue delicately, Laszlo Kreizler's fingers browsing the whitish lines.

-You are an artist, Miss Howard and many think that art is a form of madness, but I do not share that opinion. You should be able to be comfortable with other people. I would love to be able to admire your works if possible, of course? Kreizler asked.

Alice's eyes had shone at that moment, she had seen the shadow of a smile on the Alienist's lips. Her heart was pounding in her chest, she almost felt like it was about to pierce her envelope of  her skin soon. There was something reassuring about the Alienist, she felt good, calm. The usual panic in her from being in the presence of mens wasn’t there. The evening went off without a hitch, Laszlo and John insisting that Alice taste the new liquors from a famous American distiller. She stopped after two glasses, she was caught by the Alienist when she almost fell, he clumsily supports her and reinstalled her in the armchair, kneeling down to check her reflexes, she had a sorry smile, Laszlo advised Sara to take her home.

Alice painfully opened her eyes the next morning, she rubbed her eyes with her hands and then yawned, vaguely remembering the events of the night before, a pair of chocolate eyes seeming to invade her thoughts. She washed and changed, walking to the kitchen where Miyanda had already made her usual breakfast, Alice glanced at the huge oak clock, it was ten in the morning. She quietly ate her buttered bread and her grilled bacon with two eggs whose yolks were still runny when cut.

- Miss Howard, a gentleman called, I dared not to wake you up. He said his name was Doctor Laszlo Kreizler, I remember reading about him in the papers. He would like to convey the message to you that a package will be waiting outside your door after nine-thirty, but I heard no one, Miyanda announced with a slight smile.

It took a while for Alice to register the information then she leaped like a beast from the chair she was sitting in, rushing to the door to open it and find a huge wooden box, she frowned and  lifted  it with difficulty, wincing before heading to the living room, setting the box down on her table before finally opening it carefully. She slid the thick wooden board that was on top of the box before her jaw almost dropped to the floor when she discovered the contents of the box: tubes of gouache from a prestigious brand, perfectly sharpened and aligned pencils. , chalks whose different variations of the same color made her hold her breath and there was also a little box with a beautiful silver  pen and black ink. She nodded before noticing that there was a folded note with her initials delicately written, she took the paper gently before unfolding it.

“Miss Howard,

Your sister whispered to me that you had lost a lot of your precious drawing materials that you had saved so much during your childhood. I could not bring myself not to offer you a material worthy of the name, from the best craftsmen in the country. I hope you will put it to good use, you have aroused my curiosity about your art, the praise of your sister confirms me in the idea that you are undoubtedly gifted with great talent. Would you agree to accompany me to the opera and then have dinner at Delmonico’s on Saturday night? My contact details are written on the back of this letter.

Cordially,

Doctor Laszlo Kreizler. “