#he was in the original idea but this was better

[tinystepsforward]

autocrattic (more matt shenanigans, not tumblr this time)

I am almost definitely not the right person for this writeup, but I'm closer than most people on here, so here goes! This is all open-source tech drama, and I take my time laying out the context, but the short version is: Matt tried to extort another company, who immediately posted receipts, and now he's refusing to log off again. The long version is... long.

If you don't need software context, scroll down/find the "ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening" heading, or just go read the pink sections. Or look at this PDF.

the background

So. Matt's original Good Idea was starting WordPress with fellow developer Mike Little in 2003, which is free and open-source software (FOSS) that was originally just for blogging, but now powers lots of websites that do other things. In particular, Automattic acquired WooCommerce a long time ago, which is free online store software you can run on WordPress.

FOSS is... interesting. It's a world that ultimately is powered by people who believe deeply that information and resources should be free, but often have massive blind spots (for example, Wikipedia's consistently had issues with bias, since no amount of "anyone can edit" will overcome systemic bias in terms of who has time to edit or is not going to be driven away by the existing contributor culture). As with anything else that people spend thousands of hours doing online, there's drama. As with anything else that's technically free but can be monetized, there are:

Heaps of companies and solo developers who profit off WordPress themes, plugins, hosting, and other services;

Conflicts between volunteer contributors and for-profit contributors;

Annoying founders who get way too much credit for everything the project has become.

the WordPress ecosystem

A project as heavily used as WordPress (some double-digit percentage of the Internet uses WP. I refuse to believe it's the 43% that Matt claims it is, but it's a pretty large chunk) can't survive just on the spare hours of volunteers, especially in an increasingly monetised world where its users demand functional software, are less and less tech or FOSS literate, and its contributors have no fucking time to build things for that userbase.

Matt runs Automattic, which is a privately-traded, for-profit company. The free software is run by the WordPress Foundation, which is technically completely separate (wordpress.org). The main products Automattic offers are WordPress-related: WordPress.com, a host which was designed to be beginner-friendly; Jetpack, a suite of plugins which extend WordPress in a whole bunch of ways that may or may not make sense as one big product; WooCommerce, which I've already mentioned. There's also WordPress VIP, which is the fancy bespoke five-digit-plus option for enterprise customers. And there's Tumblr, if Matt ever succeeds in putting it on WordPress. (Every Tumblr or WordPress dev I know thinks that's fucking ridiculous and impossible. Automattic's hiring for it anyway.)

Automattic devotes a chunk of its employees toward developing Core, which is what people in the WordPress space call WordPress.org, the free software. This is part of an initiative called Five for the Future — 5% of your company's profits off WordPress should go back into making the project better. Many other companies don't do this.

There are lots of other companies in the space. GoDaddy, for example, barely gives back in any way (and also sucks). WP Engine is the company this drama is about. They don't really contribute to Core. They offer relatively expensive WordPress hosting, as well as providing a series of other WordPress-related products like LocalWP (local site development software), Advanced Custom Fields (the easiest way to set up advanced taxonomies and other fields when making new types of posts. If you don't know what this means don't worry about it), etc.

Anyway. Lots of strong personalities. Lots of for-profit companies. Lots of them getting invested in, or bought by, private equity firms.

Matt being Matt, tech being tech

As was said repeatedly when Matt was flipping out about Tumblr, all of the stuff happening at Automattic is pretty normal tech company behaviour. Shit gets worse. People get less for their money. WordPress.com used to be a really good place for people starting out with a website who didn't need "real" WordPress — for $48 a year on the Personal plan, you had really limited features (no plugins or other customisable extensions), but you had a simple website with good SEO that was pretty secure, relatively easy to use, and 24-hour access to Happiness Engineers (HEs for short. Bad job title. This was my job) who could walk you through everything no matter how bad at tech you were. Then Personal plan users got moved from chat to emails only. Emails started being responded to by contractors who didn't know as much as HEs did and certainly didn't get paid half as well. Then came AI, and the mandate for HEs to try to upsell everyone things they didn't necessarily need. (This is the point at which I quit.)

But as was said then as well, most tech CEOs don't publicly get into this kind of shitfight with their users. They're horrid tyrants, but they don't do it this publicly.

ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening

WordCamp US, one of the biggest WordPress industry events of the year, is the backdrop for all this. It just finished.

There are.... a lot of posts by Matt across multiple platforms because, as always, he can't log off. But here's the broad strokes.

Sep 17

Matt publishes a wanky blog post about companies that profit off open source without giving back. It targets a specific company, WP Engine.

Compare the Five For the Future pages from Automattic and WP Engine, two companies that are roughly the same size with revenue in the ballpark of half a billion. These pledges are just a proxy and aren’t perfectly accurate, but as I write this, Automattic has 3,786 hours per week (not even counting me!), and WP Engine has 47 hours. WP Engine has good people, some of whom are listed on that page, but the company is controlled by Silver Lake, a private equity firm with $102 billion in assets under management. Silver Lake doesn’t give a dang about your Open Source ideals. It just wants a return on capital. So it’s at this point that I ask everyone in the WordPress community to vote with your wallet. Who are you giving your money to? Someone who’s going to nourish the ecosystem, or someone who’s going to frack every bit of value out of it until it withers?

(It's worth noting here that Automattic is funded in part by BlackRock, who Wikipedia calls "the world's largest asset manager".)

Sep 20 (WCUS final day)

WP Engine puts out a blog post detailing their contributions to WordPress.

Matt devotes his keynote/closing speech to slamming WP Engine.

He also implies people inside WP Engine are sending him information.

For the people sending me stuff from inside companies, please do not do it on your work device. Use a personal phone, Signal with disappearing messages, etc. I have a bunch of journalists happy to connect you with as well. #wcus — Twitter I know private equity and investors can be brutal (read the book Barbarians at the Gate). Please let me know if any employee faces firing or retaliation for speaking up about their company's participation (or lack thereof) in WordPress. We'll make sure it's a big public deal and that you get support. — Tumblr

Matt also puts out an offer live at WordCamp US:

“If anyone of you gets in trouble for speaking up in favor of WordPress and/or open source, reach out to me. I’ll do my best to help you find a new job.” — source tweet, RTed by Matt

He also puts up a poll asking the community if WP Engine should be allowed back at WordCamps.

Sep 21

Matt writes a blog post on the WordPress.org blog (the official project blog!): WP Engine is not WordPress.

He opens this blog post by claiming his mom was confused and thought WP Engine was official.

The blog post goes on about how WP Engine disabled post revisions (which is a pretty normal thing to do when you need to free up some resources), therefore being not "real" WordPress. (As I said earlier, WordPress.com disables most features for Personal and Premium plans. Or whatever those plans are called, they've been renamed like 12 times in the last few years. But that's a different complaint.)

Sep 22: More bullshit on Twitter. Matt makes a Reddit post on r/Wordpress about WP Engine that promptly gets deleted. Writeups start to come out:

Search Engine Journal: WordPress Co-Founder Mullenweg Sparks Backlash

TechCrunch: Matt Mullenweg calls WP Engine a ‘cancer to WordPress’ and urges community to switch providers

Sep 23 onward

Okay, time zones mean I can't effectively sequence the rest of this.

Matt defends himself on Reddit, casually mentioning that WP Engine is now suing him.

Also here's a decent writeup from someone involved with the community that may be of interest.

WP Engine drops the full PDF of their cease and desist, which includes screenshots of Matt apparently threatening them via text.

Twitter link | Direct PDF link

This PDF includes some truly fucked texts where Matt appears to be trying to get WP Engine to pay him money unless they want him to tell his audience at WCUS that they're evil.

Matt, after saying he's been sued and can't talk about it, hosts a Twitter Space and talks about it for a couple hours.

He also continues to post on Reddit, Twitter, and on the Core contributor Slack.

Here's a comment where he says WP Engine could have avoided this by paying Automattic 8% of their revenue.

Another, 20 hours ago, where he says he's being downvoted by "trolls, probably WPE employees"

At some point, Matt updates the WordPress Foundation trademark policy. I am 90% sure this was him — it's not legalese and makes no fucking sense to single out WP Engine.

Old text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks and you are free to use it in any way you see fit. New text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks, but please don’t use it in a way that confuses people. For example, many people think WP Engine is “WordPress Engine” and officially associated with WordPress, which it’s not. They have never once even donated to the WordPress Foundation, despite making billions of revenue on top of WordPress.

Sep 25: Automattic puts up their own legal response.

anyway this fucking sucks

This is bigger than anything Matt's done before. I'm so worried about my friends who're still there. The internal ramifications have... been not great so far, including that Matt's naturally being extra gung-ho about "you're either for me or against me and if you're against me then don't bother working your two weeks".

Despite everything, I like WordPress. (If you dig into this, you'll see plenty of people commenting about blocks or Gutenberg or React other things they hate. Unlike many of the old FOSSheads, I actually also think Gutenberg/the block editor was a good idea, even if it was poorly implemented.)

I think that the original mission — to make it so anyone can spin up a website that's easy enough to use and blog with — is a good thing. I think, despite all the ways being part of FOSS communities since my early teens has led to all kinds of racist, homophobic and sexual harm for me and for many other people, that free and open-source software is important.

So many people were already burning out of the project. Matt has been doing this for so long that those with long memories can recite all the ways he's wrecked shit back a decade or more. Most of us are exhausted and need to make money to live. The world is worse than it ever was.

Social media sucks worse and worse, and this was a world in which people missed old webrings, old blogs, RSS readers, the world where you curated your own whimsical, unpaid corner of the Internet. I started actually actively using my own WordPress blog this year, and I've really enjoyed it.

And people don't want to deal with any of this.

The thing is, Matt's right about one thing: capital is ruining free open-source software. What he's wrong about is everything else: the idea that WordPress.com isn't enshittifying (or confusing) at a much higher rate than WP Engine, the idea that WP Engine or Silver Lake are the only big players in the field, the notion that he's part of the solution and not part of the problem.

But he's started a battle where there are no winners but the lawyers who get paid to duke it out, and all the volunteers who've survived this long in an ecosystem increasingly dominated by big money are giving up and leaving.

Anyway if you got this far, consider donating to someone on gazafunds.com. It'll take much less time than reading this did.

[bro-atz]

sore all over

in which: san hates seeing you miserable during your period, and he wants to help any way he can.

pair: san/afab!reader

word count: 2.2k

content: smut, pwp, nicknames (baby), established relationship, lowkey kinda self-indulgent shhh, period sex, safe sex, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: thank you @k-hotchoisan @ja3hwa @temptaetions @flurrys-creativity @mercif4l for the input (and the validation i lowkey needed to write this lol)

Not going to lie, San was a little worried when you didn't get out of bed all day. Well, you technically did get up to drag yourself to the bathroom every so often, but then you immediately went back to bed. He knew that you were in a lot of pain because of your period, but he didn't realize that you were going to be completely out of commission that day.

Usually, your periods didn't hit you that hard, but this time around, it was like you were being stabbed in the uterus over and over again. Your entire body was aching like there was no tomorrow, and you truly thought it was going to be over for you because no matter what you did, you were in a world of pain. Hot packs didn't help, painkillers didn't help— nothing was working to alleviate your pain. So, you just curled yourself up into a ball and hugged a pillow to your body while burying your face in the pillow.

"Baby?" San asked as he approached you on the bed slowly from behind you. "Are you okay?"

"No," you mumbled into the pillow. "I wanna die."

"Don't say things like that, baby," San said with a frown.

"How about I kick you in the balls, then you talk?" you couldn't help but retort. "You would wanna die, too, wouldn't you?"

San shivered at the thought of anything hurting his crotch. He shook his head to keep himself from derailing from his original thought and said, "Well, I'm here to help you, baby. Can I do anything else to help you?"

You tried turning to face him, but your back was so sore that it hurt when you moved even a millimeter. Still laying on your side, you grunted in slight pain as you pulled your shirt up slightly and asked, "Can you massage my back for me please? My lower back?"

"Of course I can," San replied.

San knelt on the bed, his knees on either side of you at first as he waited for something, although you had no idea what until he spoke again.

"Shouldn't you lay on your stomach for me to massage your back, baby?"

You huffed in frustration, but before you could even contemplate turning, San said, "Never mind. Don't move— I think I can still massage you well from the side."

"You sure?"

"Yes, baby," San said as he left a light kiss on your temple. "I want you to feel comfortable."

San ended up lying on the bed right behind you, his warm hands resting on the small of your back. He pressed his thumbs into the dimples on your back, and you groaned. It was still painful, but the pressure from his thumbs did alleviate some of the pain, so it was worth the momentary suffering.

Every time San pressed his fingers into your back, you groaned and sighed, the massage actually working better than the hot pack did. You found yourself pushing your body towards his magic touch, sighs of pleasure tumbling out of your mouth as his massage continued.

What you didn't realize, though, was that San was getting harder with every passing second because your moans were incredibly sensual. He knew that you were in pain and suffering because of your period, but he so badly wanted to fuck you in that moment because you sounded so fucking sexy to him with your constant moaning and groaning.

Now that the dull, throbbing pain in your back was slightly relieved, you felt your breasts get more sore. You dropped the pillow you were hugging to the floor and tried to massage your own breasts, but your hands were too weak to get the same level of pressure that San was using on your back. So, you asked, "Can you... Can you also massage my breasts, please?"

"Of course, baby. Whatever you want," San murmured.

San's hands slithered up your shirt, his palms resting flat on your ribs, his fingers brushing your underboob. As he hugged you from behind, he pulled you closer to him, your back flush against his chest. He then gripped your breasts gently, his fingers pressing into your sore breasts and starting to massage them. However, when you moaned in slight frustration, he immediately used more power and gripped your breasts tightly. As he did so, his fingers brushed past your nipples, making you moan loudly and erotically as hell. Embarrassed, you covered your mouth, your face heating up.

"That was so cute, baby," San teased as he buried his face in your hair. "Can you make that noise again for me? Please?"

"N-No. Shut up," you rejected.

Despite you rejecting him, San was determined to make you moan like that again.

"S-Sannie," you moaned when his fingers started pinching your nipples. "I-I'm really sensitive right now, baby..."

"Do you want me to stop, then?" he asked you, his breath tickling your neck and his low voice tickling your brain.

"God, no... Don't stop..."

San chuckled. He pinched the slightest bit harder before tugging on your nipple. You arched your back and sighed sensually as he continued to tug. You reached back for his head and ran your fingers through his hair. You gripped the roots of his hair and tugged his head back slightly whenever he rubbed your nipples in his fingers.

Your eyes began fluttering the more he massaged, and you completely closed your eyes when you felt him begin to leave small little kisses in the nook of your neck. You were thoroughly enjoying his massage and got sucked into your own little world of pleasure, only for your eyes to fly wide open when he pressed his pelvis into your ass.

"Sannie, you're turned on right now?" you couldn't help but giggle as you asked.

You managed to reach back and cup his clothed hard-on in your hand, the man moaning slightly as you did so. His breathing hitched as he replied, "How can I not be when I'm touching you like this... And while you're moaning like that...?"

Finally, thanks to his hard work, your soreness was relieved just enough for you to turn in his arms. You palmed his cock over his pants and whispered, "How about I help you with this, then? It's my turn to help you, after all."

"Actually," San said slowly before gulping nervously. "I think there's a way we can help each other out, baby..."

"What do you mean?"

You were honestly left completely shocked when San suddenly got up from the bed and disappeared from your bedroom. However, moments later, San returned with a couple of towels and a condom.

"Do you think you can get off the bed for a second, baby?" San asked you.

"W-What— You can't be serious right now, San," you said in disbelief, your eyes wide.

"I read online that having sex on your period should help with your cramps," he explained to you.

"But— Won't the blood freak you out?" you questioned.

"It's a natural thing, baby. Why would I be freaked out?"

"It'll get all over you, and it'll stain the bed sheets! Also, it's dirty—"

"That's what the condom and towels are for," he interrupted you. "Don't worry, baby. We don't have to if you don't want to, but I think we could at least try it out."

Honestly, you had read the same information online about the benefits of having sex on your period, and it did cross your mind to ask your boyfriend to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you, but you didn't think he would be open to having sex when you were bleeding; so him being so willing to have sex with you on your period without you even asking kind of freaked you out a bit, and you would've probably pushed back a little harder had it not been for your hormones turning you on earlier when he was massaging your breasts.

You agreed, and San immediately set up the bed. He laid the towels down on the bed and removed the comforter and pillows to make sure they wouldn't accidentally get stained. He had you strip down to nothing before having you lay down on the bed.

As you laid on the towels, you were already worried about bleeding onto them, and you couldn't help but fidget. Noticing the slightly stressed look on your face, San quickly removed his own clothes and rolled the condom on his twitching, hard cock before straddling you. His fingers held your chin gently, forcing you to look at him as he lowered his body onto yours.

"Baby, don't think about it as blood. Think of it as lube, only red," he said calmly. "And if you're so worried about the color, then just close your eyes, okay?"

With a soft exhale, you nodded. Your eyes fluttered shut as San got closer to you, his lips meeting yours. He kissed you softly and slowly, your mind melting as his kisses got more sensual. You didn't have a single care or worry with the way San was kissing you in that moment, and you were so out of touch from everything else that you didn't realize he was rubbing the tip of his cock along your cunt.

San pushed his cock into you slowly but easily, his cock filling you up. You moaned against his lips, your hands clutching the towels underneath you as you started unintentionally getting nervous again. As a result, you couldn't help but clench your cunt, and of course, San felt your nervousness.

"Baby," San interrupted your chain of kisses with a soft sigh. "Relax..."

His hands reached for your arms. He brought them up and laced his fingers with yours. He kissed you again, and when he felt your cunt finally relax, he started moving. His waist rolled into yours slowly, and the dull pain you felt earlier started melting away thanks to the friction from his cock. You couldn't help but sigh with relief the more he moved in and out of you.

"You feeling better, baby?" San asked you, his forehead pressing against yours.

"A little bit, yeah," you admitted softly.

"Then, can I move a little faster?"

San lifted his face so he could look into your eyes. You opened your eyes and nodded before closing your eyes again— technically, San was blocking your line of sight, but you were still worried that you were going to see red, so you closed them again. San buried his face in the nook of your neck, his breath hitting your collarbone. He started rutting into you a little faster, making you sharply inhale and moan while exhaling.

The wet sound of his waist meeting yours repetitively was honestly freaking you out a little bit. No matter how you tried to think about it, you knew that the wet sound was not your arousal or lube, but before you could spiral thinking about it, San moved his lips to your ear, and he started whispering sweet nothings into your ear, drowning out the sound of him fucking you.

Your entire body started shifting along the towels as San not only sped up but started thrusting harder. He let go of your hands to hook his arms under your legs, pushing them upwards, easing the strain on your lower back as he quite literally bent you in half. You could hear him grunting and moaning softly in your ear with every thrust; you could tell he was close, and honestly, you didn't realize you were as well until he grabbed your breasts again.

San intentionally rubbed his fingers against your nipples, the pleasure from how sore they were building rapidly within you. It was when San rammed his hips into yours as hard as he could, hitting your cervix with the tip of his cock, did you cum. You moaned loudly and pushed your head back while arching your back as you came, San's cock still buried inside you.

As you came, you clenched your cunt tightly, giving San's cock the right amount of pressure for him to cum as well. He moved up so he could hold your waist tightly and thrust a couple more times into your cunt. He groaned and sighed, meeting your same decibel as he filled the condom he had on his cock with his seed. Hs cock twitched and throbbed inside you as he finished, and he dropped his head back into the nook of your neck.

The two of you were breathing heavily at that point. You remained in a puddle on the bed as San got up to take the condom off and properly dispose of it before returning to your side. He wiped his fingers on one of the towels as you finally reopened your eyes to look right into his eyes, still afraid to see the damage done from him fucking you during your period.

"We should get cleaned up, baby," San said. "Why don't I help you?"

San tucked his arms beneath your back and legs, lifting you off the bed. You held onto his shoulders as he walked you to the bathroom.

"Besides," he continued. "We could always go for round two in the shower. Right, baby?"

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networks:

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[storm-and-starlight]

Meteoric

This was originally from a larger fic idea that in retrospect wouldn't have worked, but I really liked this one scene, so it's getting posted on its own!

Damian Wayne is ten years old and trapped in a country he doesn't know with a Batman he was never supposed to be heir to and he is learning how to fall.

"I know how to fall," he snaps, irritated already -- he has already been trained, by people better than Grayson will ever be. It's more than muscle memory at this point -- it's more like running, breathing, the step and flex and roll to come back up already swinging.

"Do you now," Grayson says, trying for amused and interested and ending up with tired instead. "Off of buildings?"

"Yes," because how different can it be, really, except they're up on the pinnacle of Wayne Tower already, so high he can barely make out the shapes of the cars below them, looking out on the wide stretch of the city, darkened smoky stone and warm golden lighting and the great black expanse of the sea beyond it all. He has seen the images of his Father surveying his city, settled on the snarling head of a gargoyle or in the darkness behind neon lights, wrapped in shadow. Grayson is no master of stealth, no darkly watchful presence -- he leans wildly out over the gap, cape bannering out behind him in the wind, and looks up.

"Okay," Grayson says, still sounding tired, and turns to look at him. The cowl does not suit him; his chin is too narrow. "Wayne Tower's a good reference point if you need to get somewhere fast -- it's got good access to most of the major roads, and it's high enough you can grapple pretty much anywhere without slowing down too much."

"Yes," says Damian, "obviously."

"So, we're going to use it as practice," and Grayson fires a grapple at the neighboring skyscraper, checks it with a hard tug, and hands the gun over to Damian. "Like we did in the Bunker--"

"Release at apex, reset, fire again. I am aware." He is trained in all the things his father was trained in, during his time before he became the Bat, but he was not trained in this. This was something he learned in Gotham, on buildings such as this one, and Damian was not born to this city, to the home of Batman -- but he has been named Robin, and he has seen how all the rest of them fly. He sets his feet, braces for the leap -- below him, the city rumbles, never sleeping -- the line is almost invisible in the dark.

Grayson shifts, stepping closer, cape snapping in the wind.

"Going to tell me not to look down?" Damian gives his own tug on the line, which refuses to budge, and looks up, and out, and down, at the impossible plummet under his feet.

"Robin," Grayson says, tired and grieving and still somehow full of that infinite, impossible gentleness, that disgustingly soft core of him that Damian has wanted to plunge a knife into since the day they met, and "I am not afraid," Damian snaps, and leaps.

It's -- terrifying, paralyzing, the rush and plummet, the wind catching in his ears and howling, the thin rubber grip of the grapple gun in his palms all too slick for when his weight catches against the line and pulls him back upward, and yet it's also-- amazing, and he whoops sudden and startled and delighted when the arc runs out and he is flying, hanging weightless at the top of the world with all the lights of the city and the sea around him, black and gold and brilliant.

And then gravity reasserts her grip and hauls him back down to the Earth, backwards. He clings instinctively tighter to the gun, cape twisting, flapping, tangling with his legs as he falls blindly back towards the uncaring streets -- and an arm hooks around his waist and hauls him back up again with the benefit of greater mass and greater momentum, and with a jolt he finally hits the release and lets Grayson sweep him up onto the roof of the next building, landing without a breath of a sound.

Damian shoves his way free and Grayson lets him go, lets him shove the grappling gun back in the holster on his belt and stride off to the middle of the roof, glaring down at the smoke-stained concrete. He has practiced this a hundred times over in the Bunker, the changeover, the weightlessness -- he has done it perfectly on the practice course, again and again, until Grayson finally agreed to take him out into the city without the Batmobile, and he froze--

"You're not the only one, you know," Grayson says, and Damian pauses. He doesn't look back, but he pauses, and Grayson sighs. "Tim did the same thing all the time when he was learning. It takes practice."

"I have had practice."

"Not on the streets."

"What difference should that make?"

Damian can feel Grayson's Look, boring in between his shoulder blades, and he clicks his tongue and turns back to the edge of the roof. This building isn't quite so tall, and flatter on top. Any leap will be reliant more on the winch feature of the grappling guns to haul him up to the next roof in the chain.

"Damian," Grayson says, stepping up next to him.

"Names."

"Fine, then, Robin," and he actually manages to hit amused. "You want to know a secret?"

"Hm."

Grayson leans in, conspiratorial, and Damian refrains from tilting himself away. Grayson's secrets are... varied, in terms of how secret they must be kept, and frequently inane, but occasionally... occasionally they are his father's secrets, and Damian-- holds tight to those. 

They are his birthright, after all.

"Bruce didn't know how to do this either," Grayson whispers, close and quiet in his ear.

"I am aware of that." There was, after all, a time when his father was not Batman, Damian knows, and his lack of training then does not excuse Damian's current inability--

"No, I mean even as Batman," and Damian whips his head up to look at him, but Grayson is looking out over the shining lights of the city, unreadable behind the cowl. "

In the early days, he didn't-- leap like this."

"Explain."

"He didn't have the training. Who would be crazy enough to teach him how to-- throw himself off skyscrapers?"

"Surely there would have been someone--"

"Before all of this? Before the Justice League? Before Superman? Bruce--

"Names."

"--your father knew a lot of things, but he didn't know this." Grayson shrugs, shoulders drooping as though the cape is dragging them down. "Back then -- well, actually, back then we mostly used the Batmobile, but when we did do rooftop patrols it was a different technique. Lower buildings, narrower streets, different line attachments, no midair switches and no big drops like that. I spent a lot of time using a grapple like an elevator as a kid," and he-- laughs, soft and quiet and wistful. "I learned a lot from him, but I didn't learn how to fly."

"But the others--" He has seen the recordings of his-- predecessors, of Drake's careless confidence in the air, Todd's reckless swoops -- even Brown is better at this than Damian, and that cannot stand. His mother told him that Batman would close the gaps in his education (what small ones there were), that he would be the greatest of his students, and yet he cannot do this, and his father is not here to teach him -- and yet his father did not teach Grayson, either--

"They learned from me," Grayson says. "Bruce did too, sort of -- it wasn't exactly like trapeze, I had to figure out a lot of it, heh, on the fly, and I worked out the technique with him -- but the basics? That's all me. Robin flew before Batman ever did."

"...tt," Damian says, because he has no idea what else to do, but he looks out over Gotham's neon-and-gold and wonders, briefly, what it must have been like, all those years ago, to take that first leap. To look up to the sky and see Batman and Robin, aloft.

"Trust me, Robin, you'll pick it up," Grayson says, resettling the cape on his shoulders, and Damian looks up at him again. He's smiling, now, and the cowl still doesn't suit him but it's less about the shape of his face or the tilt of his chin and more that Richard Grayson, perhaps, should not be wearing the cowl at all. "You've already got the hardest step down."

"Which is?"

"Don't be afraid to fall," Grayson says, and gestures out at the city in front of them, alive with light. "All you've gotta do is keep moving forward. I'll be right behind you," and English isn't Damian's first language but Mother found him only the best of the best to be his tutors, and he hears the second meaning underneath the words. I'll be there to catch you.

"Tt," says Damian, and leaps.

[soft-teddybear]

ateez - s/o is insecure about their face

genre: fluff, comfort

cw: insecurities talk.

requested by annon.

summary: ateez when they notice their s/o is insecure about their face, what they’ll say or do.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction made for entertainment on all and form my personal view of the members with no intention of being rude.

members under the cut.

Seonghwa notice how you didn’t liked to look at the mirror a lot and how you’ll always wear makeup so he decided to ask you about it, it was hard opening up to him about your insecurities but you were so happy that you did because he helped so much. He helped you to identify what exactly made you feel so insecure (call it pimples or other skin issues or just self esteem issues) and work in it to make you feel comfortable with yourself.

Hongjoong is heartbroken when he finds out, so happy and proud in your relationship because you told him, but too sad at the same time, so now is his life work to help you with it, constantly telling you how pretty you look, trying to boost your self confidence and helping you become more happy in how you look on your daily life. If things are too complicated he suggest therapy (even offers to pay for it), he’ll do anything to help you feel better with yourself.

Yunho wants to fix everything talking and helping you feel better but can’t deny that deep inside him he wants to kick the people that made you feel bad, unless it’s s yourself in that case he just wants to hug you. Talks to you every single time you feel low until you figure out why it’s that and until you find a way to feel better. He’s with you on every step of the way, trying to keep you from going back to your original thoughts but helping you ether way if that happens.

Yeosang kind of gets it, with having to hide his birth mark for so long he was a bit insecure about for some time, but because of the support that the fans gave him, he loved it again. So he tries that strategy with you. Telling you how much he loves your face with or without make up at any given chance he has, and if he feels that there’s been a long time since the last chance he found, he makes one then and there. All to help you feel as pretty as you are.

San just wants that you look at your self and see the beauty he sees. So he does everything in his power to help you feel better. From telling you everytime he can how beautiful you are to trying to understand why exactly you feel so bad about yourself. He understands that insecurities can be mean things that doesn’t makes sense so he tries that you don’t feel worst about it by looking for an explanation that might not exist.

Mingi is the only one that suggests therapy as the first option because he knows that mental problems (like low self esteem and insecurities) are hard to get rid of with out the appropriate help and he wants you to get the best of the best. If its also about skin problems he recommends you his favourite skin products, go shopping for them with you or even book a dermatologist appointment he does everything he can to help you feel better.

Wooyoung loves taking selfies with you, even if no one will see them so having to do a lot of convincing every time he wanted a cute pic with you wasn’t something he loved, he did a lot of questions until he understood it was because of your insecurities and then decides do help you in every way he could and not to pressure you too much when you don’t want pictures. Almost cried the first time you had the idea to take a picture in a cute spot.

Jongho tries to keep calm in this type of situations, so he doesn’t says or does anything until he’s completely sure, all because he doesn’t wants to say or do something that will only end up with accidentally make you feel worst so if he suggest going to therapy, to a dermatologist or both or something different is because he’s one hundred percent sure that that’s what’ll help and if it doesn’t he’ll think a lot about it until he finds a better solution.

a/n: and im back, im nor fully sure if im back full time again, but ill try i hope you like it and all feed back is appreciated because i feel rusty.

[xomakara]

Movie Night Mischief

SUMMARY | You go on tour with your best friends, Mark and Jaemin. You're watching a movie with them one night, when things take an unexpected turn.

PAIRINGS |  Mark x Reader x Jaemin

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  idol!Mark, idol!Jaemin, non-idol!Reader, smut, threesome

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, threesome, female masturbation, fingering, blowjobs, double penetrative sex (vaginal/anal), unprotective sex, dirty talk, praising, pet names, creampies

LENGTH |  5,194 words

TAGLIST |  @shuadotcom

NETWORKS |   @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  I was inspired to write this because of this video. I would have happily sat my ass down lol. MarkMin has been gracing my feed and I'm going absolutely feral over them. Thank you @shadowkoo for the beautiful banner! I'm absolutely in love with it. I hope you all love this fic~ 💚

"Where am I supposed to sit?" you asked, staring down at your two best friends.

Mark and Jaemin looked up at you standing in front of them with a bowl of popcorn. The boys, seemingly forgetting you, exchanged a look. When you were asked to join NCT Dream on tour for TDS3, you jumped at the chance to be a part of the staff, though they were asking a lot more of you than you had originally agreed. All the members had grown close to you throughout your time working as a stylist throughout the years and you became close friends with Mark and Jaemin especially.

And though you knew that relationships could cause problems, not everyone could say the same and your crush on both of them had not gone unnoticed, unfortunately. If Jeno had picked up on it then, the rest had as well, seeing that Haechan teased you the most about your secret crushes. The boys were playing it like they didn't know, but it was very apparent they knew and used any and every moment to torment you. But you weren't sure if Mark and Jaemin knew about your crush on either of them.

"What do you think? Just sit here," Jaemin gestured for you to go ahead and take the place between the two as he patted a little. "Go on, don't make us stop our movie marathon."

With a small scoff, you decided to squeeze into the tiny spot between them. You rolled your eyes, while popping the pieces of popcorn into your mouth. Mark snickered before stretching his arm along the back of the couch so that it could be comfortably placed around your shoulders. Your friend nuzzled himself a bit closer into you until you could feel the heat from his body.

"Ah... this is much better," Jaemin mumbled to no one in particular. You ignored him, as he stretched his arm in the other direction, draping his body even closer. Now you were smothered by both boys and, in turn, the musky, familiar scent of them.

Mark hummed as well as he started eating his own popcorn, and watched the film in front of the television. "Right?"

You rolled your eyes, a small smile on your lips. "What are we watching anyway?"

Mark shrugged. "Honestly, no clue."

"Jaem?" you turned to Jaemin on your left.

The male sighed, "No idea."

"Great," You deadpanned, "I should just leave."

Jaemin shook his head, "Oh no, no... if we're watching, so are you. Now sit your ass down." 

He yanked you back down on the couch and you crossed your arms across your chest. "I should have gone to hang out with Jeno and Haechan instead of spending my time with y'all."

"Excuse you," Jaemin laughed. "You know you'd rather be here with us. Right, Mark?"

"And here we thought you were our best friend!" Mark faked shock, widening his eyes, and opening his mouth with fake hurt.

You shoved the bucket of popcorn in front of his face. "Shut up, and just eat the popcorn."

Mark continued to chomp down the popped kernels and you tried your best not to roll your eyes again, the soft movie sounds humming from the TV. You peeked to see what Jaemin was up to. His eyes were glued on the movie, his fingers picking up a single kernel from the bowl that sat on your thighs and popping it into his mouth. You weren't aware of the soft thumps inside your chest at the simple, innocent, action he had done. Your eyes flickered to his lips that parted with each bite of the snack, the movement almost teasing. He didn't even spare a glance in your direction and you felt that was a good thing.

Mark reached over to pick up a single piece of popcorn too. His hand briefly rested on top of your thigh when he brought it back over. It was a completely accidental and friendly gesture but somehow, you wished that it meant a little more than a harmless, kind movement. His hand had been soft on top of your knee and then slowly crawled up a bit higher than his initial resting place. Your breathing quickened slightly and you bit on your lower lip, glancing at him from your periphery. 

Mark's eyes were on the television but his fingers drummed against the spot on your bare leg where your shorts had ridden up a bit from the position you were in. His thumb tickled the area around the skin and he casually placed a single kernel onto his waiting tongue. Your lips were dry, so you ran your tongue across them to add some moisture. He sucked his thumb into his mouth briefly, making sure the digit was cleaned of any salt he hadn't eaten.

With your eyes trained on the TV, you brought a popcorn piece into your mouth and chewed it thoroughly. There was no need to overthink your feelings for Mark and Jaemin. These feelings would die off in no time.

Little did you know they were gonna be harder to hide.

The movie you were watching started to become a bit risqué. There was a sex scene involved and suddenly you were the one shifting uncomfortably. What was even the name of the movie they had chosen again? You couldn't recall. But apparently, Mark couldn't either, his face scrunching a bit at the scene playing out in front of him.

Jaemin reached over to the bowl and grabbed another piece. You peeked at his side profile and sighed when you knew he was fully engulfed into the movie. Then your attention shifted over to Mark. His brows knitted and he was still chewing the popcorn, eyes watching the TV intently. If you stared hard enough, you could see the subtle flush along his face.

The sound of moaning soon reached your ears and your skin started prickling with nervousness. The sex scenes should not affect you this way—even though it had been a long time since you had experienced an orgasm or someone had fucked you. In fact, you wanted one of those right now. Your stomach was coiling, hot and heavy, as you got hot and bothered from the scene. The actor's heavy panting rang clearly in your ears, causing your mind to think lewd thoughts. You shuffled and you were already uncomfortable under their gaze, your breathing coming out a little heavier than normal.

"You good there, Y/N?" The low, raspy voice of Mark entered your hearing. You cleared your throat and slowly nodded, unable to look into his eyes.

"I'm fine," you squeaked. There was a subtle nod of your head. Mark simply let it go as he kept his eyes in front and you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. With another attempt to look forward, the erotic visuals filled your eyes. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip when the loud groans vibrated throughout the room.

Oh how badly you wished one of them was kissing along the length of your neck, grazing the delicate skin with their teeth and leaving possessive marks on it. Your pulse picked up at the thought, heart pounding hard and fast against your chest as you could feel something pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

Jaemin and Mark were surely doing no better.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mark subtly adjusting the semi-hard-on forming in his pants. He cursed softly under his breath, the neediness in his voice loud and clear and fuck, if that didn't get you dripping wetter. Jaemin was seemingly worse because you could actually see the tent in his sweats—it wasn't huge but it was just enough to know he was somewhat aroused by this scene. His bottom lip trapped between his teeth, dark eyes intensely focused on the film.

The moaning just increased from the actors. That sound plus the slick sounds of cock and pussy hitting each other was too much. God, you wanted them. They were so fucking handsome, perfect in every way and their ethereal voices made you quiver with want. The sensation between your legs was making the rational thoughts in your head start to dissipate and was clouded with the need to touch Mark, to kiss Mark, to touch Jaemin, to kiss Jaemin.

So, when one of the characters ended the sex scene by moaning the name of their partner loudly, you couldn't hold it anymore. You grabbed onto one of their sleeves and pulled. Mark and Jaemin broke from their lustrous state and they met your flushed and flustered state.

"Fuck me, please. Right now," your words were breathy, rushed and impatient as your chest rapidly heaved from the pent up frustration and arousal coursing through your body. Your knuckles tightened their grip on their shirt, pulling them closer to you as their brows twitched upwards with lust. "I need one of you, right now."

Without hesitation, Jaemin leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss while Mark maneuvered his face and mouth next to your ear to let his hot breath hit the delicate skin and whisper sinfully lewd and naughty thoughts into your ears. He began by nibbling your earlobe before planting soft kisses. Then he grazed along the shell with his tongue and the side of his mouth.

The kiss Jaemin and you were sharing was wild with just pure unadulterated lust. You slid your fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, lightly gripping it to bring him closer. Both of your heads shifted and tilted with each lick and bite. Occasionally your lips would detach for a few seconds so you could both catch your breaths. Mark turned your head towards him and captured your lips in his to break yours and Jaemin's connection. It was a warm embrace at first before Jaemin attached his wet and swollen lips onto your neck, licking and sucking with the utmost intent to mark.

Mark's and your kisses were sloppy, wet and rough. The nipping of your bottom lips, the suckling on your tongue and the slurring moans and groans echoed into the shared space of the hotel room. After what seemed to last an eternity, the three of you pulled apart and caught your breath.

"Y/N…" Mark spoke into your ear. Your name sent goosebumps all over your skin as his husky voice reverberated in your hearing. "Baby girl, you know this will change things between the three of us, right? It won't just stop at today."

The palm of his hand slid along your bare skin and it caused the hairs on your skin to stand. He had gotten underneath your t-shirt, thumbing the edge of your shorts, ready to dip it in. He needed some form of consent—as did Jaemin who stared deeply into your eyes, and sucked a red mark on the exposed skin above your t-shirt collar, rubbing soothing circles to calm your nerves.

This was what you wanted—to be touched, kissed, worshipped, by these two. Mark and Jaemin wouldn't do this unless you asked for it. And the thing is, you really did want this. To be touched by the both of them, their hands roaming all over, and giving you so much pleasure it was just enough for a whole week's worth of work.

You leaned back on Mark, head thrown over his shoulder to reach his waiting lips with yours. A hand tugged at Jaemin's neck so you could look straight at him when you agreed.

"I do... now do whatever the hell you want to me," you agreed, your voice barely a whisper.

"Wanna get your sweet and pretty little ass up on the bed and put on a show for us? We wanna see you play with that pretty pussy for us. Put those beautiful fingers inside that soaking and leaking cunt of yours," Jaemin whispered.

Fuck. That was hot.

You shuddered as you stood up and removed the clothes you were wearing. Then you slowly moved up onto the bed until you were propped on your elbows in the center, looking at Mark and Jaemin with a needy yet playful gaze. 

"We want to watch you finger that sweet, juicy cunt. Please, baby," Jaemin requested in his usual honey tone. But it was different, lower, darker and raspier and holy shit if that didn't light the fire of horniness all over in you. You would say Mark and Jaemin could make the dirtiest things sound like pure heaven. 

Hands tugging on the waistband of your panties, you slipped the small piece of clothing off in a painstakingly slow fashion. When that was done, your fingers ghosted on the outline of your mound, following your hand down, as the two men watched intensely. This continued until your digits swirled over your entrance and when it came across a pool of wetness that was spreading steadily and causing your thighs to clench.

Mark groaned loudly, a low, strangled sound, his eyes staring at you in such a way that made you feel utterly devoured. Your pussy tightened as your gaze found Jaemin as he drew his eyes away from the apex of your thighs to stare directly at you and God did you want them, so, so badly.

Mark and Jaemin crawled onto the bed until their presence loomed over your smaller figure.

"Sweetheart, please stick those pretty fingers inside your delicious and soaked pussy. The sooner the better," Mark muttered.

You listened to Mark and shoved your finger into you, your walls tightening immediately around the new feeling. There was a little groan escaping you, too—pure ecstasy. There was nothing more than being fingered and eaten out.

The moan encouraged the males and both started to divest themselves, losing their shirts, sweatpants and boxers, revealing their erect and proud cocks. Precum glistened on the red tip of their cocks, your eyes fixating on the two members and fuck you couldn't believe how lucky you were right now. You took in every last detail of them and damn, it only caused your arousal to become ten times better. 

Jaemin smirked before speaking. "Put another finger inside that little tight cunt."

You complied with his words by adding in a second finger. A sinful mewl resounded in the quiet room. 

Jaemin tutted. "What a naughty little girl, I bet I know what she's thinking of right now."

Mark paused, seeming to ponder before speaking. "Something like getting her mouth on our dicks. Don't you agree, Jaem? To have those plump lips stretched to their limit and moaning as she tastes us on her tongue. Having both of us choke her with our cocks."

There was a purr of approval and an adorable hum. "Mmh, she'd look so cute too." 

Fuck.

This time Jaemin was the one groaning, as both watched you moving your fingers in and out of your hole, your wet and glistening juices practically coating every part of your lower lips. The slide of your fingers in and out was delicious, but it would feel even better when Mark's and Jaemin's dicks would enter you instead. Your nipples tingled as they grew taut and stiff while a needy ache pulsated with growing heat and force.

It was arousing.

It was hot.

And so damn alluring.

"Such a needy little girl," Mark commented and both Jaemin and him now gripped their cocks.

The sight of their leaking and dripping dicks triggered something in you, you could feel yourself dripping as your insides clenched around the two fingers inserted inside and out. But God, were they still not enough. Your thumb moved over to your swollen clit. That bundle of nerves finally got the attention it deserved and you were crying and releasing a low and loud mewl as waves of pleasure vibrated from inside. It was good, very good.

But it still wasn't enough.

No. You wanted more.

"Fuck. That's not—fuck—enough," your voice strained at the end of your sentence as you were heavily panting.

"Tell us what you want," Jaemin stated low and huskily, "Baby, we'll give it to you if you just tell us."

"Your mouths and fingers—" you rasped, gasping between every word, "in…in me."

Mark cooed softly and reached over to cup your cheek with a rough palm. The contact alone made you melt in bliss.

"We can do that baby," Mark pressed his lips briefly to your lips before moving back. "How about Jaemin eats you out while I fill this pretty little mouth of yours with my cock and give you what you desire?"

Your cunt throbbed hard at the mention. That's exactly what you wanted. You removed your fingers and whined softly as that gaping and emptiness could be felt. Mark crawled up to your face with a knowing smile, brushing the pads of his thumbs over your cheeks. He positioned himself over your mouth until his hardened cock was directly over your lips, dripping down precum.

Without delay, you licked it up. The salty flavor and the heavy weight in your mouth made you suckle hard and you gained an animalistic groan from above you. While you tended to Mark, you felt a tongue against your slit as your taste filled his mouth. Jaemin wasted no time in deep-thrusting his tongue past the folds to plunge into your core and groaning at the slick mess already drenching you. His eagerness, and hot tongue massaging against your entrance and folds made you shake, sucking on Mark's cock faster.

Jaemin's hands spread your legs a little wider, your thighs flexing hard and you tried to keep them that way. Your body jerked and jolted every time his lips would lap against your sensitive bud, rolling your hard clit against your teeth. Mark continued to thrust his hips shallowly, unable to keep from fully fucking into the soft and wet depths of your hot mouth.

"You're so good for us, aren't you Y/N?" Mark praised, running a gentle hand through your hair and grinning when he felt your eyes open to look up at him through your eyelashes. "Take every inch, you pretty thing. Stay like that. Take all of me."

Your mouth continued to service him until your gaze rose up and looked at Mark above your frame.

Oh fuck! He looked ethereal—that beautiful, handsome and well-built body covered with a sheen layer of sweat. His throat bobbing from the moans. Those lean yet muscular arms stretched over you, firm and lean. Oh how badly you want to feel that skin. Your whole body is ignited by every touch of those muscular palms. It drove you mad, the scent of his arousal strong.

His lips slightly parted and his jaw muscles straining with restraint, "Fuck. Fuck, Y/N. Y-your mouth."

Without warning, Mark snapped his hips and pushed his full length in, the abrupt action having you gag and wince. His apology fell on deaf ears as you enjoyed the cock stuffed inside your mouth, throbbing on your tongue. Jaemin followed suit as you bucked your hips a little harshly into his mouth, grinding your pussy into him as fast as you could. Your desperation increased as your eyes caught the vision of Jaemin's perfect form between your thighs, his dark head of hair bouncing up and down. Jaemin removed his mouth momentarily, his saliva mixed with your wetness being lapped up. He hummed. "Holy fuck, sweetness. Your pussy tastes so divine. I can't get enough."

Jaemin placed his thick and hot tongue back onto your clit, swirling the muscle against that nerve ending and sucking simultaneously while two fingers roughly slid into you and pumped into a rhythm.

You were reaching a point of oversensitivity, body wrecked under the actions of both Mark and Jaemin, leaving you trembling with carnality.

"So fucking wet. Baby is squeezing my fingers so tight. Will she squeeze around my dick next time?" Jaemin commented while smirking and taking another look at your pussy. He placed a final kiss on your clit before pulling out and planting another onto the fluttering folds and sat back on his heels, as his attention turned towards Mark who was in the same state. Both nodded and removed themselves.

Mark moved over to take Jaemin's spot, his face gliding over the exposed skin of your sides with kisses, until he arrived at your heat. Mark took some seconds to admire the delicious mess which is between your thighs, your swollen lips all dripping in juices. You let out a piteous and faint noise, your neglected cunt flexing over thin air and gifting him with a burst of wetness. 

"Mark, please," your voice was barely recognizable even to your own ears, having lost count of how many times you pleaded. Mark just quirked a dark brow at you.

"Let me taste you a bit first and then you can have my dick," And then his tongue sunk inside, licking up any moisture accumulated. You clawed the bed sheets under the sheer sensation of the heat pooling, curling and breaking your body apart like a bomb. Fingers returned to your pussy, turning every single movement and motion agonizingly intense. 

Fucking intense.

"Please," you wail as your hands dart through his hair, "fuck. Stop teasing. Want your cock. In my pussy. Now, please, now, please, Mark. Please."

"And me, sweet pea?" Jaemin husked at the last syllables before fluttering his long lashes up and down.

"Please. Wanna cum. With both of you." Your voice hitches an octave higher and breathier by the end of the request.

"Anything for our girl," Mark says calmly as he moved away from you.

Jaemin was lying on the mattress, as you crawled your way up him before sinking down, the both of you relishing the feeling. His cock pulsed into your needy and drenched core, the way the plump head spread through your walls.

He then bottomed out, the smooth motion filling you full, full, full. It was a stretch and you loved it. Jaemin, a handsome angel and the epitome of the dream guy everyone could and should ever dream of was buried deep within you.

"Shit, baby. Can you feel my cock, stuffing you up and getting you all wet inside? Fuck. This pretty pussy can't handle this big cock, can you?" Jaemin growled lustfully. "Do you want Mark to fuck your tight ass, baby? Bet that little asshole of yours would stretch so wide. So fucking perfectly."

"Yes," you practically sobbed, the vision only spurring on the all consuming urgency surging through your nerves. "Yes, I need you and Mark to stuff me full…so damn full. Please."

Mark smirked and produced a bottle of lube he picked up from somewhere, before pouring a generous amount over his fingers and dick. After slicking it up, his fingers travelled to your hole, tracing the sensitive entrance before stretching it with his fingers and loosening it until it relaxed. When he noticed your squirming and pleading for his cock to go in, that was when Mark began sinking his hard member in until there was nothing left but his hip and your ass.

The feel of his dick spreading open your inner walls and burying deeply sent shudders through your whole being. The sensation of your holes stretching at both ends made your chest heave.

"Shit," both Mark and Jaemin ground out, coming down from the immediate wave of pure bliss enveloping the three of you.

For a moment they let you adjust, until the buildup of desire in all three of you started to become too much to bear. When they noticed the whimpering noises, they immediately picked up the pace, Mark and Jaemin rolling their hips and snapping in an irregular rhythm.

The both of them were talking now, filthy, lude praises, lewd moans, dirty whispers and naughty nothings in between grunts and sighs and praise. You heard snippets like how gorgeous and perfect you are. How well you are doing. How much of a fucking beautiful kitten and how perfect you look being taken by them. Both dicks deep and pumping hard, the gliding motion pulling frictionless strokes.

"What a perfect pussy and what a sexy little ass. Gonna ruin both and make sure you can't ever think or walk normally. Gonna make you ours," Jaemin grinded hard.

"Feels so good...you both feel so fucking good," was the response he got from you, accompanied by mewls. "Fu-ck. Shit. Please. Harder."

"How does Mark feel, baby?" Jaemin coos softly, petting your hair slightly as if rewarding a good kitty.

"Good," you sighed, "good, he's really filling me and stretching me."

Mark's groans grew more heated at the confirmation, snapping his hips and pelvis. He leaned in and grunted more erotic words. "You're taking us so well, baby. You're gonna be walking crooked and sore after we're done with you."

"We need her to know we're never letting her go," Jaemin mused.

Your high-pitched screams reverberated off the walls, bouncing into Mark and Jaemin's ear, causing them to chuckle. Your eyes closed to concentrate on the way Mark and Jaemin could command a good and nice pace.

It was intense and erotic.

It was messy and hot.

It was unravelling.

It was sheer pleasure.

You were being consumed whole.

"Baby, your moans," Mark stated breathily. "Such sweet, heavenly and pleasing noises. And that's coming from us. From two cocks filling both of those delicious holes."

"Be louder," Jaemin suggests. "Scream for us louder. Let the rest of the members know who's making you feel this good. That you're only ours."

You squeaked as Mark brushed your hair gently to the side so that he could kiss the nape of your neck and collarbone. His touches were electric as his palm rubbed and squeezed the swell of your breasts and caressed your body sensually. He switched it up occasionally, applying light kitty licks and bites and harsh sucks, taking note of your sweet noises and what parts of you brought forth that sort of reaction. You squirmed against the sheets, one hand gripping the cotton of your pillow tightly, the other draped on Jaemin's bicep.

"Fuck," you whimper as they kept pumping mercilessly, pleasure unfurling and rolling inside you, unfocused with nowhere to go. "Shit. Fuck."

"Tell us what you want Y/N," It was a low rumble coming from Jaemin. "Just say it."

"I—I wanna cum," you whimpered.

"We want that too, baby," Mark mumbles right into your ear. His breathing sounds jagged. You're pretty sure you weren't the only one going out of your mind with anticipation. "Cum for us, baby."

"Y-yes. A-ah…ha…" You whine, choking up a throaty scream as the loud squelch echoed along the room in the rhythm of the pounding, joined by a deep grunt here and there from Jaemin and Mark. "M-Mark, please...Jaem...J-just."

"That's a good girl," Mark states as his palms massage the curves and dips of your body as Jaemin takes turns running his teeth and lips against the side of your neck and over your delicate shoulder, rough and passionate. 

"Take every inch, beautiful. We'll leave you satiated and stuffed full. Mark is gonna fill your tight ass full of cum, whilst I cum deep inside your lovely pussy," Jaemin huskily added, voice dark and coarse.

You groaned, keenly aware of how full and hard they are inside of you. Oh how badly you wanted the boys to reach their peaks. How you wished Mark and Jaemin's powerful bodies would shudder and convulse as euphoric pleasure ripped through. How badly you wanted Mark and Jaemin's expressions twisted into sweet bliss and then dissolved in ecstasy.

"That's it, baby. We're right here," Mark soothed, voice dripping with affection and fondness, "Take all the pleasure you can get."

"Oh, shit. So good. Yes. Shit!" you finally reach your limit and tip over the edge, gushing and convulsing with a loud drawn-out whimper.

Both Mark and Jaemin fuck you right through it, milking both orgasms. They only lasted a few minutes longer, finally spilling and letting ropes of cum paint and coat your insides. Mark groaned from above you, a sound so sexual and captivating and Jaemin stifled a moan in the crook of your neck. They kept their cocks for a minute and came down from their respective highs before withdrawing from both stretched holes. Cum dribbled down your lower lips, pooling the bed sheets.

There was a silence before Jaemin and Mark cuddled closer to you from each side, the both of them panting heavily until the room was filled with deep inhales and exhales.

"Can…we do that again?" You manage to voice, surprising Jaemin and Mark with the bold statement.

They responded by bursting into soft chuckles. Jaemin made a noise. "That's asking a bit too soon, isn't it princess?"

"No…like, during your tours, when we go back home. In your free time.  I-If it's not inconvenient with schedules, of course," you rush out. 

Mark raised his brows. "Are you sure, Y/N?"

"Uh, y-yeah," you gulp a breath. "I really enjoyed this. But only if you want to as well."

"Believe me princess," Jaemin purred softly. "We love being with you as much as you love being with us."

"Of course we would like to. Our place is with you no matter what," Mark interjects, his soft hands smoothing down your messy and sweaty hair before slipping an arm around you and pulling you against his warmth. The affection made you blush even more. Mark nudges his nose and kisses the top of your head. “Besides, I did say this was going to change between the three of us right? That this won't stop at today.”

"Who would have thought that I'd fuck my best friends," you breathe out, staring at the ceiling in complete bliss.

"We should have done this a long time ago. Next time we do this again, let's bring Jeno with us," Jaemin admits cheekily, the utter statement catching you by surprise.

You slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. How bold."

Mark laughed. "I don't think I want to share Y/N with the others, Jaemin. Only us two are enough for this lovely lady."

"Ah, I'm kidding," Jaemin winks before tilting his head. "Mostly." He wags his brows playfully, making you groan and hit him lightly. Jaemin grinned before dragging your palm and placing a kiss on the inside of it. "Relax baby, you have our hearts wrapped around your finger."

Mark hummed in agreement and buried his face into the crook of your neck and placed a tender, heartfelt kiss and patted your thighs. He mumbles sleepily into your ear and you hear Jaemin repeating the gesture, the two voices simultaneously filling your eardrums. "We're yours, and you are ours. I'm sure this is going to be the start of something new and good. Don't worry." 

You relaxed, letting their breathing and the warmth of their skin lull you to a peaceful sleep, right alongside them and in their arms.

[razorblade180]

Capturing the Spark

Weiss:*peeks into music room* Summer, sweetie? I can’t help notice you’re playing the same note for like…ten minutes.

Summer: *plucking string* I’ve reach creative bankruptcy.

Weiss:You’re sixteen. There’s something in there.

Summer:Nothing good.

She points at a decently sized pile of paper on the floor. Weiss takes a look at one and realizes it’s a whole song.

Weiss:Are these originals!? Why are they on the floor!?

Summer:I don’t like how they came out. Weeks and months of revising but they feel mediocre.

Weiss:Says you. A single opinion from a creator is damning in any art form. I could’ve listened.

Summer:You would’ve been too nice and supportive.

Weiss:Summer, I told your father he looked fat in the first tux he chose for our wedding. I will never willingly let you embarrass yourself in front of people.

Summer:…There’s been talk on the radio about my recent songs and concerts. People are saying I’m losing my spark, and they aren’t wrong if I’m being honest. Things feel…different.

Weiss:Could it be because you’re getting healthy?

Summer:Pfft, now you’re making me sound ridiculous. Yes, that’s exactly it. Being on stage feels weird now that I’m not fighting for my life. Is that wrong?

Weiss:Little bit, but I get it. Your life was on the line. Adrenaline was at an all time high.

Summer:Exactly! My body was cold and hot. I had to focus on staying myself while thousands cheered my name and had zero clue I was basically on a battlefield! Now I’m just performing.

Weiss:Haha, and that’s a bad thing? It’s gonna be an adjustment but you still have that spark. You don’t need your life on the line to bring it out. You also need to treat these songs better.

Summer:Mom, they’re garbage. My fans don’t come for me for darker stuff anyways.

Weiss:They are fruits of labor. Sure not all of them will be perfect, but not every song you make will be a hit and don’t have to be. Treat these like your puppy. Don’t throw them away because they’re a little all over the place.

Summer:Where is he right now?

Weiss:Bothering Jaune. Anyways, fuck your haters.

Summer:Wow!

Weiss:I mean it! You are the singer! You can’t make people like your music but you change the audience that fills your seats. They’re called fans because they help make you burn bright.

Summer:….

Weiss:The way I see it, you can change up your style and genre to better capture and represent the raw feelings that give you the spark, or bask in the irony of a crowd that loves you, but can’t fathom the real weight of your performance.

Summer:You’ve done that too!?

Weiss:I’ve written so many songs that come from my feelings being around my abusive father and most people don’t have a clue. We may be the entertainment at a concert, but we both know how easy it is to see the crowd as the real fools.

Summer:Yet when I talk like this, therapy gets mentioned.

Weiss:Hey, I’ve been to it many times. I know exactly who I am, and you will too. One day at a time. You’re not creatively bankrupt. You’re just not cashing in all the ideas you have.

And with that nugget of wisdom, Weiss kisses her daughter on the forehead before leaving her to think on it.

Summer:(Damn it. She’s gonna feel so proud about that line.) *grabs paper*……

xxxxxx

Weiss:*walking down stairs* I’m back. How’s the puppy?

Jaune:*holding him up* Air jail. Did you solve the one note wonder?

Weiss:Yeah, but it’s gonna get louder in sec-

🎶VVVVVRRRREEEERRRRR🎶

Both of them looked up as the sound of a distorted and almost wailing guitar started singing wildly. Jaune looked at his wife to see her casually head banging with a smug face. They weren’t even sure if the notes lead to something or if their daughter was simply going for it.

Weiss:It’s been awhile since I heard a eulogy like this.

Jaune:A eulogy?

Weiss:Can’t you hear it? It’s for the death of a pop star as we know her.

[callsign-mayhem]

sundress

Part one of my Heartbreak Feels So Good sequel series!

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 3.1k CW: Use of Y/N

Find the original series here!

It's been a week since you and Bradley confessed your feelings to each other on the beach. After an impromptu first date, Bradley takes you to a new Italian place on the seafront to wine and dine you like a true gentleman.

Natasha Trace was rarely wrong.

You stood in front of your full-length mirror, admiring your reflection—not just looking at it, but admiring it. 

You weren’t a vain person. It simply wasn’t in your nature. But something about this yellow dress—the one you were going to wear for Jake’s leaving drinks—made you feel confident. It had been so long since you’d felt this way that you’d almost forgotten what it was like. Maybe the dress had magical powers, or maybe yellow was just your colour. Either way, you were relieved to feel like someone worthy of dinner and drinks with Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. Nothing was worse than going on a date and feeling like you were punching above your weight. 

You had Nat to thank for this. She’d warned you off of wearing it for Jake’s leaving drinks the Friday before because she thought it better saved for a more special occasion. The white dress had walked so this one could run, and now there was no reason to stress about finding an outfit on the day of your first date. 

If you wanted to get technical, it was your second date with Bradley, but he didn’t class last Friday night as a date. You did, though. You were highly sentimental, and that night was more special to you because it was silly and spontaneous. Bradley thought it ungentlemanly, but it felt like something from a romance novel to you. 

After your confession and makeout session on the beach, you’d practically begged him to take you out for food since he wanted to do things properly. As a man of his word, you knew he wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t go home with you unless he’d had a meal with you first. As a way of cheating his system, you’d convinced him to take you to In-N-Out, and he’d agreed as long as you promised you’d do things by the book the following week. 

So he’d ordered an Uber, and when you arrived at the restaurant, you ordered more food than should have been allowed. You picked a booth in the window, and the two of you sat there until most of the food was gone, and you were both relatively sober. Bradley’s phone was dead, but the Daggers had been blowing yours up for two hours until you eventually had to answer. Neither of you wanted to reveal that you were technically on a date. Something about keeping it between the two of you made it feel more special and less pressurised, so you made up a lie and said Bradley had been sick and you’d taken him home before heading back to your apartment. You'd promised Jake you’d see him off Sunday morning and promptly turned your phone off. 

After that, you’d sat in the booth talking until closing time, enjoying getting to know each other all over again. Because you’d sobered up, neither of you wanted to rush each other into bed anymore. You liked the idea of taking things slow, savouring every little moment, and doing things as Bradley had initially wanted. But neither of you regretted your impromptu first date. 

Your phone pinged on your bedside, and you almost tripped over your feet in your haste to get to it. It was Bradley letting you know that he was leaving his and would be with you shortly. You were simply too excited to wait, so you grabbed your bag and hurried out the door. 

It was a gorgeous evening, typical of San Diego. Sunlight cascaded down through the trees surrounding your apartment block, creating intricate patterns on the pavement. Birds circled lackadaisically above, in no hurry to get to any particular destination. A group of teens whizzed down the road on brightly coloured rollerskates, laughing carelessly. It was crazy to think you weren’t sure about settling here initially. Now, you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

Bradley Bradshaw definitely had something to do with that. 

You heard the Bronco before you saw it. The low rumble of its engine was exciting and comforting, as was the man driving it. You could see him grinning as he pulled in, cheeks flushed from the heat of the evening. Before you could hurry over and open the passenger side door, he jumped out of the car to do it for you. He admired your sundress, shamelessly wolf-whistling as you walked over.

‘You look dazzling, Y/N.’ He said by way of greeting.

When you reached him, you stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He wore tan dress pants, a brown belt, and a crisp blue shirt. The first three buttons had been left undone, teasing the top of his Herculean chest. He’d rolled his sleeves up also, revealing his deliciously veiny forearms. 

Bradley Bradshaw was a well-wrapped gift, especially for you.

‘Thank you,’ you replied. ‘So do you.’ 

He grinned. ‘Our server’s gonna have to wear sunglasses.’

You laughed delightedly. ‘And everyone else in the restaurant, if you keep smiling like that.’ 

He helped you into the Bronco, buckling your seatbelt like he did the day of your breakup. It was a terrible day, but he’d made it better, as was his superpower.

During your drive to the restaurant, the two of you sang along to 80s classics—Karma Chameleon by Culture Club and Foriegner’s I Wanna Know What Love Is. Bradley made you feel comfortable enough that you weren’t embarrassed by your singing voice despite his sounding angelic. You were too overjoyed to be self-conscious, a clear signpost to Bradley being the one for you. With Elijah, you were always hyperaware of the way you came across. You overthought your appearance, the words you said, and even the tone of voice you said them in. And it wasn’t just because you wanted to control how he perceived you—it was because you had to be careful not to make him angry. 

Where being with Elijah exhausted you, being with Bradley breathed new life into your mind, body and soul. 

You arrived at the restaurant floating on cloud nine. He’d chosen a new Italian place right on the seafront. The interior was tasteful, and the views from the deck out back were worth dying for. As your server (who wasn’t wearing sunglasses yet) seated you, you silently hoped the menu was as well-cultivated as the place itself. You had the best seat right on the edge of the deck overlooking the ocean. Paired with your devilishly handsome date, it was already the perfect night, so if the food did end up being shit, you wouldn’t be too upset about it. 

‘Can I get you guys started with some drinks?’ The server asked with a smile.

‘Two Peronis with lime, please.’ Bradley responded, flashing her his movie star smile.

She disappeared to get your drinks, leaving the two of you alone. 

Bradley reached for your hand over the table, rubbing circles over your palm.

‘So,’ he said. ‘Our first date.’

‘Our first date was last week.’ You quipped. 

He smiled fondly, shaking his head. ‘That wasn’t a date.’

‘It was, and it was the best first date ever. I’ll die on this hill.’

‘Okay, fine, our first civilised date.’ 

Your drinks arrived, and you both busied yourself with the menu. You’d skipped lunch to ensure you had room for dinner tonight, and your stomach growled audibly. 

‘I’m going for the cannelloni.’ Bradley announced. 

‘I think I’m gonna get a pizza.’ You replied. ‘Shall we get garlic bread for the table?’

‘Is that even a question?’

After ordering your food, you chatted about work and your friends. You already knew each other’s histories—family and otherwise—on a friend level, at least. You were still discovering topics you’d never broached and details left out from stories already told. It was exciting getting to know one another again, not nerve-wracking at all. You didn’t feel like a fish out of water as you had with Elijah. 

The food arrived and was just as delicious as you’d hoped, if not more so. You ordered a glass of red wine and Bradley another Peroni. Since he was driving you home, you didn’t intend to drink any more. The waitress brought your drinks over, blocking your view of the double doors leading into the restaurant. You completely missed another server seating Penny and Maverick a few tables over. They spotted you before you were even aware of their presence. 

‘Is that Lieutenant Y/LN?’ Pete whispered. ‘With Bradley?’

Penny glanced at the two of you, eyebrow raised. ‘It is. They look like they’re on a date.’

Pete blinked in shock. ‘He didn’t tell me he was dating Y/N. He didn’t tell me he was dating anyone.’ 

‘He doesn’t have to tell you everything, honey.’

‘I know, but this is big.’ 

He had to admit, it was hurtful to find out something like this in such a manner. He and Bradley had only been getting closer since they arrived home from the mission that had ultimately saved their relationship. Pete would have thought he might have mentioned that he was seeing someone, especially since it was a Lieutenant under his command. 

‘From what I’ve heard, she’s only just gotten out of a relationship, which would mean that whatever’s going on between them is quite new.’ Penny pointed out, ever the voice of reason. ‘Maybe they’re not ready to share just yet.’ 

‘Maybe.’ Pete replied, frowning deeply. ‘Should we go over there?’

‘No.’ Penny hissed. ‘Did you listen to a word I just said? If they wanted us to know, they’d have told us. I’m sure the last thing they need is us ambushing them on what looks to be their first date.’

‘So we just sit here and pretend we haven’t seen them?’

‘Yes.’

You and Bradley were unaware of the conversation happening not ten feet away. You were too wrapped up in one another and the food in front of you to pay any mind to your surroundings, which was probably for the best. You’d agreed to keep things private for now, and it was working out quite well so far. Not having your friends involved alleviated some pressure to figure out precisely what was happening between you and where it was going; you could set the pace without any interference or judgement. Not to mention the thrill the two of you got from sneaking around and keeping such a massive secret from the rest of the Daggers. 

‘Are we ordering dessert?’ Bradley asked once you were finished with your meals.

‘Is that even a question?’ You mimicked with a grin.

‘Touché.’

You stood up. ‘I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Order for me?’

Bradley took the opportunity to admire your full form again. ‘What would you like?’

You refrained from saying 'you.' ‘Surprise me.’

You waltzed off to the bathroom—with a bit of extra sway of your hips for Bradley’s benefit. You couldn’t believe how well tonight was going. During your tumultuous relationship with Elijah, you’d promised yourself that if things didn’t work out between you, you would never date again. Why would you want to when it had proved to be such a monumental waste of time? But then Bradley had swooped in, and now you could reflect upon how wrong you’d been. There was a reason things hadn’t worked out between you and Elijah, and it wasn’t just because he was a massive twat. It was because you were never supposed to settle with him. Maybe it was too soon to say, but you wanted to believe that you weren’t supposed to settle with him because you were supposed to settle with Bradley. 

You exited the bathroom—which was just as showy as the restaurant itself—and headed back onto the deck. The later it got, the more people had arrived, and now only a few tables were free. You were wondering whether to text Natasha and ask if she wanted to come here for cocktails next weekend when you locked eyes with Captain Mitchell. He quickly glanced down at his dinner, clearly hoping you hadn’t clocked that it was him, and you hurried back to your table. 

‘Hey, sweet thing. I ordered you-’

‘Mav is here.’ You panicked, sliding back into your seat.

‘What?’ Bradley started looking around. 

‘On a date with Penny. Three tables to the right, just behind that lady with the big hair.’ 

Bradley leaned back so he could see past the big hair in question. ‘Well, shit.’ 

‘Guess the cat’s out of the bag.’ 

‘I’m gonna talk to him,’ Bradley announced. ‘Tell him not to say anything to the rest of the squad.’

‘Do you think he would?’

‘Not to be a gossip, but he might mention it thinking everyone else already knows.’

You nodded. ‘That makes sense.’

He leaned down and kissed your cheek. ‘I’ll be right back.’ 

Bradley couldn’t believe it. Of all the nights Mav could’ve taken Penny on a date, he chose tonight. At this very restaurant, no less. When they saw Bradley approaching their table, they were surprised to see him. If Bradley weren’t so good at reading between the lines, he’d have believed they had no idea he’d been sitting three tables away from them.

‘Bradley!’ Penny gushed. ‘You look handsome.’

‘Thank you, Pen.’ He smiled. ‘You look lovely as always.’

Maverick stood up, took Bradley’s hand, and hugged him. The short kind—the bro kind—involved a slap on the back. 

‘Nice to see you.’ Mav said. 

‘I saw you this morning.’ Bradley pointed out.

‘Is that Lieutenant Y/LN?’ Maverick asked coyly, glancing at you sitting alone. ‘I didn’t know the two of you were dating. Why didn’t you tell me?’

Penny glared at Mav, making Bradley think they’d discussed Maverick not saying exactly what he’d just said. 

‘We haven’t told anyone yet. This is our first date, and we kinda just wanna keep it on the down low for now.’

The look Penny shot Mav this time said: I told you so.

‘Y/N just got out of a pretty shitty relationship, so we’re taking things slow.’

Bradley didn’t know why he was telling Mav all this. He was rambling, trying to hide the awkwardness of the situation. 

‘Well, your secret’s safe with me.’ Mav assured him.

Bradley relaxed. ‘Thanks, Mav.’ 

‘You got a good one there, Rooster.’ Penny said. ‘Take care of her.’

‘I will, Pen. You don’t have to worry about that.’

They said their goodbyes, and Bradley headed back to you. The dessert had arrived: a large slice of tiramisu to share. You had been waiting patiently for him to return before digging in, a shiny silver spoon already in hand. 

‘He’s not going to say anything.’ Bradley said, sliding back into his seat. 

‘Whew. That’s a relief.’

He nodded. ‘But I think he was upset that I didn’t tell him about us.’

You frowned. ‘Did you tell him that we aren’t ready to go public? That this is-’

‘New? Yes.’ Bradley finished. 

‘Maybe we could do a double date soon?’ You proposed. ‘It might help make Mav feel a little more included, and it’d be good to get to know him better since you’re so close.’

Bradley brightened at the suggestion. ‘You’d do that?’

‘Of course I would.’ You replied earnestly. ‘And I’m not just suggesting it to make him feel better. I actually think it sounds nice.’

‘You’re amazing, you know that?’

‘Yes, I do.’ You smirked, digging into the tasty-looking tiramisu.

Bradley refused to let you pay half of dinner. You vowed to make him let you pay for something sometime soon, even though you knew it would be difficult. He was a true gentleman through and through. 

You spent the whole drive back to your apartment wondering whether to invite Bradley to come up with you and what it would mean if you did. You didn’t even know what you’d be insinuating if you did invite him up, let alone how he’d take it. Were you ready to sleep with him? Was he ready for that? By the time he pulled into your lot, you were steadily developing a stress headache. 

He parked the Bronco right in front of the doors leading into your foyer, so you wouldn’t have to walk that far.

He reached the centre console and took your hand, and you turned to face him.

‘Since we’re doing this properly,’ he started. ‘I’m not coming up with you.’

You looked down, blush creeping across your cheeks. Had he been reading your mind? In the moment of silence that followed Bradley’s declaration, your brain tried to ruin the fantastic night you’d had with self-deprecating thoughts. Briefly, your thoughts wandered back to the second half of your relationship with Elijah and how little sex you’d had, the fact that when you did have sex, it was always about him. It never even crossed his mind to go down on you, and you had to hope you finished before him because once he was done, it was always game over. 

Bradley put a finger on your chin, tilting your head up so he could see your face. 

‘What’s wrong, sweetness?’

‘Nothing.’ 

‘Where’d you go just then?’ He pressed. 

‘If you don’t want to be with me like that, it’s okay.’ You told him honestly. 

His expression went from shock to anger and then hurt in the space of two seconds. 

‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘I don’t know.’ You murmured. 

You tried to look away, but he kept his fingers on your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

‘Listen to me. I want to be with you more than anything.’ He told you truthfully. ‘But I think we should go slow. I want to make sure we take things at the right pace.’

‘There’s no rushing something you want to last forever.’ You repeated from that night on the beach. 

‘Exactly that.’

You leaned over and kissed him slowly and sweetly in the spirit of not rushing things. There was no urgency, just passion. Now he’d reassured you, you knew he was right. You weren’t ready to take the next step yet, and savouring the build-up was good. For all you knew, all these first times with Bradley might be your last. 

‘I’ll walk you to the door.’ Bradley mumbled against your lips.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be able to resist coming up?’

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought he might change his mind about not spending the night. ‘I can wait. You’re worth it.’ He said. ‘But one of these days, I want you to wear that sundress for me again.’

‘Why?’ You whispered.

‘Because I think it’s going to look so good on my bedroom floor.’

A/N: I've finally gotten around to writing the first part of my sequel series to Heartbreak Feels So Good. This one's short and sweet, but I'll be writing some longer parts as the series goes on. If anyone has any suggestions or requests for moments they'd like to see in future parts, please let me know! Also, let me know if you'd like to be removed/added to the taglist for this series.

Taglist:

@crowdedimagines

@sadgirlgiselle

@sleepy-writersblock

@lovelyygirl8

@my-therapist-hates-me

@primroseluna

@eloquentdreamer

@sgt-barnesveins

@daybleedsintonightfa11

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 18: Tears Unnumbered ye shall shed

So, we got here. But first, B&L get an epilogue.

First, a tidbit about reembodiment: B&L take their physical forms again in Doriath. I guess they go from Mandos to there in spirit. (It's all "allegedly", anyway). Everyone is happy and afraid when seing them (very reasonable reaction I think) and Luthien heals Thingol from (depression, more or less).

Melian looks in Luhien's eyes and is sad. She "realized they will be apart till the end of the world and after" (huh?) and again, we have Pengolodh's favorite stylistic tool: "nobody ever suffered more from any loss than Melian suffered then".

Oh, I found the quote in original: “But Melian looked in her eyes and read the doom that was written there, and turned away; for she knew that a parting beyond the end of the world had come between them, and no grief of loss has been heavier than the grief of Melian the Maia in that hour."

B&L go to Ossiriand, it vaguelly feels like they don't neet to eat anymore? But unclear.

Anyway, back to the proper plot Feanorians. Maedhros gained hope, because he saw Morgoth is not untouchable. He starts creating the Union, but the wording about him doing it … even without knowing the story, if I read it carefully, I would probably be worried about how it will go.

And we have a clear reminder of the Oath and all that. Orodreth doesn't trust the Feanorians because C&C (makes sense I guess) (Finrod would probably join the Union but anyway). Gwindor joins Maedhros, going against his king's orders… we know how this will end for Gwindor.

doriath. Mae&co had sent brash letters to thingol along the lines of "you will be our enemy if you don't give the Silmaril back" and Melian advised Thingol to give it to them! But he is angry at their tone and at C&C, and also B&L have suffered so much for this jewel…

Sidenote: If your main claim to a piece of treasure is "but I/someone have sufferred so much", keeping it is probably going to end badly.

Also thingol wants to keep the Silmaril, because it is this jewel's power…. wait what? "And every day that he looked upon the Silmaril the more he desired to keep it for ever; for such was its power." [original] WHAT.

Ok, that is new. So, the Silmaril is canonically addictive? Or is it only because it has been in Morgoth's crown?

So, anyway, Thingol sends Maedhros a dissing answer and Maedhros leaves him be, because the Union is more important. Yay, Maedhros, great job, you are doing well! (For now :((( )

Unfortunately C&C threathen Thingol with genocide, after they win the wart. Which they assume they will. So thingol fortifies and doesn't go to the war. (Mablung and Beleg go, but Thingol allows them reluctantely, so they end up better than Gwindor)

Bór! :) and Ulfang :(

Maedhros plays his hand a bit too early :(

Also, another mention of Morgoth's spies (plural) and traitors. So, I guess the fallen Men, enslaved Elves and shapeshifting wannabe-Saurons sabotage the Union as much as they can.

Battle, Fingon doubtful, problems, suddenly: Turgon! First good surprise of this battle (it will be a whiplash…)

The Noldor want to charge too quickly, but Hurin stops them, because he is wise.

Morgoth wants to kill Fingon especially. Why? Probably to break Maedhros. (Also, revenge for the rescue, maybe.)

Gwindor gets unlucky chance (that's what happens when you go to war against your king's orders, I suppose)

The Noldor get really motivated and almost win. Morgoth is trembling of fear XD as they bang at his door. This is pretty cool of them. But then they all die. :(

Another turn: the Noldor might have won, but Ulfang. :( [Maglor kills him and it's probably the only named character that we are told is killed by Maglor, which is interesting]

Also, Glaurung is there.

Fingon dies. Also, his banner is silver and pale blue, which I did not remember.

Hurin, Turgon, foreshadowing for Earendil. Maeglin hears it all, but does not comment, and he remembers it and I have no idea why the book tells us that, this line feels so odd. "Maeglin, Turgon's sister-son, who stood by, heard these words, and did not forget them; but he said nothing" It's apparently odd to more people because there's a reddit thread about it. huh, ok, makes sense.

So, Hurin is brave and great and I will need to make a post about how the story is an ecosystem and the benefit of one character's heroics sometimes lands to another character's lap and it's painful but also quite real. So. Hurin. But we'll get back to him later.

Morgoth is happy, because divides and betrayal and stuff like that. :/

Also this (Ulfang) is why the Elves don't like Men anymore (except the Edain).

Cirdan is besieged, allo we learn that there are Orcs who can use explosives, and orkish engineers and what not. Interesting. they destroy the ports, Cirdan&co escape to the sea and to Balar.

Turgon again sends ships to Valinor, again it doesn't work (again I suppose he didn't ask Ulmo about his opinion or ignored it), and we are told who kills those sailors: not the Valar. "Only one, Voronwe, was saved by Ulmo from Osse's wrath". So yea, it's the "not rebel, but not not-rebel" sea guy. Don't blame the Valar for this.

Turgon is the rightful king of the Noldor (says the book), Morgoth hates him, because Fingolfin, and because he's a friend of Ulmo, and because Turgon's vibe scares him. We have a wonderful line about how even back in Valinor Morgoth was anxious every time he saw Turgon and tbh this is criminally underexplored in fics (this whole period is) and must have been quite hilarious.

Hurin disses Morgoth, Morgoth curses him and his wife and kids, takes him high up, and curses him again for a good measure.

Results of that: in the next chapter.

[fangirlingpuggle]

Prism pines au

Does Mc gucket have a good bond with the kids? Like after the whole memory thing, I think Mabel and dipper unconsciously repair his mind.

Making him less hillbilly and more like him old self.

Also mc gucket later on talking with Ford.

Ford: it's really good to be able to talk like this again

Mcgucket: yes I reckon it is, ah but one thing!

Mcgucket pulls out high tech weapon on Ford. Ford now confused and somewhat scared.

Mcgucket: my friend if you EVER hurt those kids of yours in any way I'll hunt ye down like an animal and hide ya body we're no one can find it. You won't even come back as the undead ya hear.

Ford nodding out of fear/respect.

Mcgucket putting away weapons: good now let's get back to the food it's getting cold.

Ford thinking I just found a trusted babysitter.

Hey I love that idea.

In original AU idea McGucket was scared of twins very scared as couldn't remember Bill but twins reminded him of him with powers and such, he's just really scared of them and doesn't know/remember why.

The twins of course still try and help him and he slowly starts warming up to them but then will see powers and just freak out as remembers more of Bill and is confused mixing times up in head.

Ironically the better he gets/everything he remembers something it sets him back and he's mores scared of twins... it's a slow process, but he eventually is fond of twins and does care for them but that fear takes a long time to go away.

[7grandmel]

Character Archives - [FILE-07]

Grand Dad

"Mario seven, uh, was that the one I played? Oh, let's check it out..."

For Walt Disney, it all began with a mouse. But for SiIvaGunner, it all began with a bootleg game, a streamer, and a pinch of insanity. Many have come after him, and many can claim to be funnier - but Grand Dad will forever hold the title as the first ever figment of imagination to come out of the bubbling mind of SiIvaGunner [FILE-01]. As a result, he has come to be a symbol for the channel in its entirety, the very embodiment of the SiIvaGunner ethos, and something of a dear friend in the eyes of its creator.

In 2014, a certain streamer under the name of Vinesauce Joel was going through the motions of his typical streaming routine - playing games of the oddest variety, and bellylaughing at the absurd results they'd deliver. Even as part of this greater whole, however, Joel's reaction to 7 GRAND DAD immediately became a standout moment, a series of events so perfect that the comedic timing couldn't have been coordinated to be any better. A mumbling Joel clicks on the game bizarrely labeled as "Mario 7", and is to his great shock met with the imagery of a garishly discolored Mario, placed onto an equally garish blue background, as bold letters declare the game's name to be "7 GRAND DAD". Before Joel can even properly process the twist he's been subjected to, only letting out a reading of the game's name, the game twists all expectations once again: An 8-bit rendition of The Flintstones theme, originally from The Flintstones: The Rescue of Dino & Hoppy, kicks in - prompting a bewildered reaction of "FLINTSTONES?!" from the thoroughly befuddled streamer.

This is a sequence of events you're all too familiar with if you're a fan of the SiIvaGunner channel, yet nevertheless a necessary one to properly recount to understand just how core Grand Dad is to SiIvaGunner: Through this one 15-second clip of one streamer's reaction to the unpredictable world of bootleg video games, a small subset of internet dwellers on the platform SoundCloud realized that they'd uncovered a whole new genre of derivative audio work. Mashups and arrangements were always alive and well on the internet, yet always delivered with upfront honesty: To play into their derivative nature as part of the reaction, to present these edits as if they were the nostalgic, authentic real-deal video game music that you grew up loving, only to have the edit serve as an unexpected punchline, was the kind of brilliant idea that just had to be capitalized on. Thus, in January 2016, one lone internet dweller by the name Chaze the Chat started the SiIvaGunner (then GiIvaSunner) channel, and uploaded "Wild Pokémon Battle - Pokémon Ruby & Sapphire". The bait-and-switch foundation that laid the groundwork for all of SiIvaGunner, all built upon the concept of a bootleg Flintstones game pretending to be the seventh entry in the Super Mario franchise.

In our world, Grand Dad's debut to the online world is now over ten years old, his legacy on the SiIvaGunner channel being that of a figurehead mainly representative of the simpler times that the channel has long since grown up from. Yet in the SiIvaGunner universe, to SiIvaGunner himself, Grand Dad is the beating heart of the entire channel, the first spark of imagination which binds his whole universe together. Every figment made since the channel's inception owes its existence to Grand Dad, and with every step SiIvaGunner underwent across his original 2016 run, Grand Dad was right there alongside him, an enduring voice in his head steering the channel onward. And even as his creator fell into a deep slumber, as The Voice Inside Your Head [FILE-03] set his plans into motion to extract SiIvaGunner's figments into the real world, Grand Dad was at the front lines of the resistance fighting in his name - and remains a symbol of hope for all figments caught in The Voice's tyrannical reign.

Across eight years of the channel's life, Grand Dad has gone through so many phases in reception: As a novel joke, as a beacon of hope, as a redundant and played-out bit, looping around into being used ironically, followed by a loop-back-around into being genuinely appreciated. Event after event, album after album, Grand Dad has become a genuine symbol of everything the channel does, and continues to appear to represent it across all of its twists and turns. It's no small feat for a figment to have endured in relevancy for as long as Grand Dad has, and no matter where the channel is headed, you can sure that he's here to stay.

[caitchercatlady]

He'll Have to Go Through Me

-Heartslabyul Version

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is busy planning the next Unbirthday Party when he gets tired of seeing Ace and Deuce moping around the dorm. When he gets the "What's wrong with the both of you?" answer out of them, he's both confused and concerned about you refusing to visit the dorm as originally planned. This is indeed unusual.

He stops you out in the hall the next school day, hoping for answers. Riddle mentions how depressed your friends have been, praying that'll get you to say something. You finally reveal that. you can't go back to Heartslabyul because a second year student had been scaring you and stalking you when Ace and Deuce aren't looking. Riddle is not one to let an accusation like this go unchecked.

"Give me a day, and I will make Heartslabyul safe for you once more. Never fear, for I shall handle this the proper, Queen of Hearts manner."

The next day, as you are arriving to class, Ace and Deuce catch up to you in a better mood than they have been. Their snickering has you curious of what's going on. They tell you that Riddle would like you to come see him at Heartslabyul dorm after classes are over, for he has something important to discuss over tea. You're afraid, but you can't refuse Riddle's invitation unless you had a "valid" excuse.

After class, the boys take you to the dorm, and what washes over you is a strange sense of relaxing quiet. As you walk past the rose gardens, you see from the corner of your eye your bully with the recognizable heart-shaped collar around his neck, being watched over by a group of third years to paint every rose in the garden by hand, a painful chore experience. Once in front of Riddle, you notice he's giddier than usual. That's when everything clicks for you. Riddle tells you not to worry as the two week's worth of chores punishment should set your stalker bully on the straight and narrow. You can't thank Riddle enough for doing so.

Trey Clover

The Vice Housewarden knows a bully when he sees one, and with Riddle as Housewarden, he has been taught the tools on how to stop a bullying situation in its tracks. Trey notices that you're been less passionate about baking for the upcoming Unbirthday Party, and he presses why. You start to question if baking was really a fun activity or if it's just for "girls," and he pushes on where you got this idea from. You confess that a Diasomnia freshman saw you with the muffins that the two of you baked the other day and mocked you for it. You felt so bad that you were contemplating on quitting the hobby all together.

Trey tries to tell you not to give up hope. He'll see to it that there is worth in what you love to do after all. The next school day, you are in the cafeteria, studying and eating the leftover sweets you made at the same time. However, as you are about to indulge, trouble comes back a-knocking. The bully from Diasomnia crushes your sweets and starts bad mouthing until a certain Vice Housewarden comes from behind to stop the whole thing. Trey demands the bully to pay up for destroying the snacks they worked so hard to make. The bully snorts and guess that they cost like what...five thaumarks?

"Well, considering how much flour, milk, eggs, and sugar costs, our batch was worth 150. If we only account for the Prefect's batch, that'll be twenty. Considering how we get reimbursed by the dorm's treasury, either you drop the twenty thaumarks or you'll have to speak to Housewarden Riddle about repaying your debut. Which one is it?"

The bully quakes in his boot as he coughs up the twenty thaumarks from his wallet and leaves, swearing to leave you alone. You look at Trey and try to say that the cookies you guys made would never be so expensive. Trey smirks and tells you that you can buy whatever you want with your new twenty thaumarks instead. What a day, indeed!

Cater Diamond

MagiCam has not been an issue for you before since that's hwer eyou post all of your fun photos and projects for the Photography Club. However, for the past week, your posts have been receiving some not-so-friendly comments. You do your best to ignore them at first, but this troll has been nothing but persistent. You do the next best thing: Block them, but that doesn't stop them from making backup accounts to continue the torment.

This stress has caused you to take a massive social media break, which is only disappointing in regards to your favorite hobby. While alone in the library, Cater comes along, wondering why your MagiCam art has been absent from blessing Night Raven College. You show Cater the evidence of your stress, and nothing angered Cater more than a petty troll.

"You sit back and worry about you, Prefect. Cay Cay is on the case."

You're not sure what Cater meant by that, but surely you can trust him to get this troll off your back, right? At least that's what his clever grin is telling you. The next day, you walk from Ramshackle to the main campus only to see everyone gossiping about something. It's not until you get to Ace, Deuce, and Epel when you find out what happened. Apparently, your troll had been exposed an an Octavinelle student who had been axed from the school's art club. When Azul found out about it, the dorm's Housewarden wasn't pleased to hear about his freshman's trolling activities and chewed him out. Epel shows you what they mean, and. you can't help but smirk along with them.

You text Cater a thank you, and he replies that he doesn't know what you're talking about with a cheeky winking emoji at the end of his message.

Ace Trappola

When it comes to who's allowed to tease you out in public or private, it's always been Ace, and you've always been comfortable to let him know if a joke is too far, and criticism is always applied on his end. One day, you're out to meet up with your friends when Ace calls out to you with one of his many new nicknames he'd come up with to make you laugh. However, the moment you hear him call you "Maggy," you know it's a joke, but still, something in you snapped. Ace gets it out of you that someone has been taunting you in between classes for being magicless, and when he hears that it's been going on for the past two weeks, Ace won't stand by it.

Later in the day, you and Ace are in the cafeteria when your bully decides to act bold. The moment "Maggy" comes out of their mouth, Ace slips into the counter attack with how jealous the bully must be because a layperson knows more about magical education than he does. Ace and the bully go for a verbal smack down, and with each turn, Ace outdoes his opponent and himself.

"Even if my own Housewarden doesn't like me, at least I have family and friends to tell me never to try that hideous haircut."

The bully gets laughed out of the cafeteria and Ace is celebrated for the win, proving that even if Ace is a bum sometimes, his respect for you is no joke.

Deuce Spade

Deuce is always doing his best to be honor student material and leave his delinquent past behind. Still, deep down in his soul, he has to keep that part of him in case of "emergencies." One day, he catches up with you after class. You couldn't hear him calling you twice, so Deuce taps you on the shoulder. That causes you to have a spasm in a way Deuce had never seen you freak before. He demands to know who hurt you, and Deuce is not going to stand out you lying to him. You know Deuce is angry, but you don't want him to make your situation worse. You confess who this bully is to Deuce, but you make him swear to pretend that you didn't say anything. Deuce can't promise because this delinquent needs to be taught what for, and only HE can set things straight.

Dragging you along, Deuce stomped into the garden, where the bully and his cohorts were loafing around. Deuce challenges this coward to a fight if he was going to be so bold to lay his hands on the Prefect. The fight commences only for Deuce to overpower his opponent.

"If you wanna put your hands on me, do it all you like, but you will never EVER put your hands on them AGAIN!"

As you watch the coward and his friends make a run back for the main building, you are best assured that with Deuce proving a point, no one is going to mess with you again.

[kiame-sama]

do you regret making some of the TWST boys certain creatures and not others? Just curious since so many of them seem to fit so well

(Me bitching about my own ideas, so if you want to see what creatures I was stuck between and why I went with other species, feel free to read on!)

I wish I made Deuce an egg-eating lizard because of his actual obsession with eggs, but I wanted him to be similar to Ace so they could clash/compliment one another better. Satyrs and Fauns are typically seen as interchangeable minus the cultures they originate from depicting their tempers towards Humans as different with Fauns typically being the helping kind and Satyrs being the tricksters.

I also wish I made Cater a fox or a kitsune because it makes more sense than a water nymph given his sly nature and mischievous behavior. But I wanted him to be a water creature so that he can bother Trey on land and in water since Trey is a Kelpie and Cater is always going to accompany/bother Trey any chance he gets.

I contemplated making Neige a siren (going more for the bird-lady pesudo-harpy traditional siren appearance, not the mostly human appearance they have become in recent media), but I felt he was too cutesy for what was typically depicted as a sex icon so I figured it would be better story-wise and conflict-wise with Vil to make him a Harpy as well.

I almost made Divus a Jackal-headed hybrid (think Anubis but with the spots of a dalmatian) but his fur coat that he constantly wears screamed Selkie to me (and seals still call their young Pups, so it worked out really well).

I was tempted to make Kalim an otter based on Floyd's nickname, but that didn't make much sense for his arid home country and sand-themed dorm. Why not make Jamil take care of the most useless Genie to ever walk Twisted Wonderland when he so desperately wants and actual Genie (canon) that can perform magic at a high-level. Sucks to suck, snake boi, you now get to babysit a near useless air-head Genie who is only good at making an Oasis and messes up every other wish.

Some came with their beast halves already canon (Malleus, Ruggie, Leona, Jack, Azul, Floyd, Jade, Crowley)

And some were so close to an animal in their icons and behavior that they just had to be certain species (Lilia-Bat, Vil-Peacock, Jamil- Sand Viper)

Some I wanted to make different colors to match closer to their canon appearances (Vil= albino peacock) or even different subspecies (Neige= Willow Grouse) but later decided to override those ideas for different reasons. (Vil would NOT settle for being one color only and being so drab as to only have white feathers, he would dye them to look like a regular peacock) (Willow Grouse have funny and janky as hell calls, since he is supposed to have a lovely voice I decided to make him a Mourning Dove instead despite the color match of both summer and winter plumage for the Willow Grouse and RSA uniforms)

[prose-for-hire]

Should I stay or should I go? (Part one)

Spike x Giles!reader

Part one of four! Be kind please💖

Warning: reader drinks, difficult relationship with parents, especially dad!Giles, reader loses their home.

You had moved to Sunnydale a few years prior with your father, he had tried desperately to train you up as a watcher but you never listened, you hated following orders and ultimately, you failed your observation when the watcher’s council came into town to check on your progress.

It bored you and for the 48 hours that you had been in charge of Buffy, you had all gone to the Bronze and let an apocalyptic rift open in the heart of the town when you failed to investigate or do any meaningful research. In your defence, it was a very minor and basically harmless apocalypse. Well, it was after Angel contacted your father when he couldn’t get hold of you or Buffy and he came back into town.

You hated dusty research and telling people what they ought to be doing. You hated the weird pressure your father put on you to become a watcher just like him and sometimes, you even hated Buffy because of the way your father doted on her so. She could do no wrong, even when he was mad at her or telling her what to do he gave her a much easier time than he ever had with you.

You were a disappointment. You could see that clearly enough.

You stayed in Sunnydale though, for reasons unknown to yourself. You just didn’t have anywhere else to go. Nothing excited you, it seemed.

You had moved back in with your father after you couldn’t make rent. You had let another crappy job throw you out the door. You just couldn’t stick to their stupid pointless rules. They made no sense and they paid you next to nothing at that.

You were sitting on the lid of the toilet as Buffy fed your newest houseguest blood from a novelty mug.

“Willow may have had a very helpful idea. She seems to be coping better with Oz’s departure, don’t you think?” Giles asked walking back into the bathroom, directing his words at Buffy rather than the rest of the room as he walked in. It was like you didn’t exist most of the time.

“Well, she still has a way to go but, yeah, I think she’s dealing”

“What, are you people blind? She’s hanging on by a thread” Spike stated, muttering to himself after and rolling his eyes. Buffy just scoffed and left the room, taking the blood he had been drinking away with her as your Dad followed her out.

You had just been about to say something similar, but in a perhaps more conversational format rather than accusatory.

“You’re quite astute really, aren’t you” You said, scanning Spike’s face. He used to creep you out a bit back when he was trying to kill you and all that. Not that you would admit it.

You had never really studied him this closely before. But looking at him now, he just looked so normal. Apart from the shackles and the almost painfully pale complexion… and the fact he had blood crusting at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s no talent, pet, a man walkin’ in from the street could read the lot of you like a book”

“I like to think I’m not that predictable”

“Don’t you all. Humans, you’re always thinking you’re so original, but you’re all a copy of the last”

“I guess when you’ve been around a thousand years everything gets sort of old… apart from the, uh, obvious” you sort of gestured vaguely at his face, a little glint in your eye as you teased him.

“Watch it” He warned, his shackles clinking against the tub as he pointed to accentuate his words. You waited for a moment in silence, watching the tap slowly drip beads of water into the cool porcelain. You waited about seven drips before you spoke again.

“Don’t you get bored? I get bored of the days here sometimes, it’s always a demon or a spell or some dumb melodrama with Dad’s little protegees”

You were surprised at the way this admittance casually tumbled from your own mouth. You weren’t sure why you were speaking to him like this, perhaps you were seeking some kind of connection. It was very you to try in such a stupid place.

“No” he shrugged turning away from you and staring up at the ceiling.

“Come on, I’m trying to open up here”

“Well close back up again” He shrugged, his eyes still fixed upwards. You shrugged, standing and leaving him in his bathtub. You hoped boredom consumed him for the rest of the day.

You left for a bar and returned late at night, having missed another eventful Sunnydale evening. By the morning when it had all calmed down, Willow had showed up to apologise again to Giles and caught you brewing your morning beverage.

She explained animatedly about your father going blind, Buffy and Spike getting engaged and Xander being a demon magnet. You tried very hard to focus on her words and gasp in the correct places whilst your head spun and you gripped the handle of your mug.

Willow was your favourite out of the Scoobies, she was a sweet kid and you made the most effort with her as you got the sense she knew what not being listened to felt like. You were glad you had missed the evening’s events, not that sitting alone at a bar and nursing a drink was much more interesting.

A few weeks later, Spike had been allowed to roam more freely by this point and he was lying on the sofa in your living room. You had a snack in your mouth and had carried a steaming mug of blood in one hand and a box of Weetabix in the other.

You gestured with your head for him to move his legs and he just stared at you for a moment before moving and snatching the mug and the box from your hands. You settled in beside him in front of an episode of Passions, trying, once again to speak to him but he was cold with you. Not even a thank you for the blood. I mean, he was evil, but did he have to keep it up all of the time?

You had tried talking to him, asking him questions about his past but he only really gave short sentences in reply. Today you were unceremoniously told to shut up so that he could watch Passions in peace.

You huffed but stayed beside him, weirdly drawn in by the stupid show. You missed his eyes lingering on you briefly as you glued your eyes to the set.

Truth was, Spike had a little soft spot for you. One that had grown even slightly since he had become a hostage in the same house you lived in. He tried to keep a distance from you, not directly look you in the eye as if you were some kind of love-inducing gorgon that would turn his resolve into a stone that could so easily crumble.

But he wouldn’t give anything away.

By the time Spike left, you were relieved that you could use your bathroom in peace. You knew trying to talk to him had been a waste of time but he interested you and, more to the point, you had found yourself being incredibly lonely.

You had been distracted lately, trapped inside your mind. You felt like you were missing something. So much so you had maybe accidentally skipped a couple of shifts at your new job. You had been sneaking back into your house when Giles caught you. You winced at his voice, knowing you would have to fess up.

“Shouldn’t you be at the Magic Box?”

“Oh, right, about that…” You began, unsure how to explain what had happened the day before. You had been avoiding your Dad ever since. You didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.

“You really are a bloody-”

“A what? Go on, say it!”

“A liability” He stormed over and poured himself a whiskey.

“It’s not exactly surprising is it, being told I couldn’t even visit my mother, left only with a man like you as a father, hey Ripper?” You don’t know why you said it. Truly, he wasn’t a terrible father. He was just bad at hiding his disappointment which made you feel, in a word, terrible about yourself.

He went very quiet for a moment. The temperature seemed to drop before he finally spoke again.

“I suggest you leave”

“What-?”

“Pack up your things and leave” he repeated, pronouncing each word crisply.

“You can’t mean that!”

“You can’t support yourself, Y/n, and I certainly shouldn’t have to”

“Where am I supposed to go?!”

“I suppose you will have to begin by figuring that out for yourself” He stared through you, downing the rest of his scotch before thundering up the stairs to his room and slamming the door.

You were ashamed to admit that as soon as he slammed the door, you broke down into tears. You knew you had been fucking everything up. You just wanted something more, you couldn’t describe it.

You packed a bag, slung it over your shoulder and walked out of the door, not once looking back. To this day you still don’t know how long you walked for, but by the time that you could see the sun threatening the dark skies through your blurred vision you had found yourself in a graveyard.

You had nowhere else to go and you weren’t above sleeping in a graveyard, you soon discovered You were so exhausted you could barely move another step. You ducked into some old mausoleum, kicking away some dust from the corner and laying out your jacket as a sort of mattress and you bag as a pillow.

You curled into the corner and screwed your eyes up. You had finally began to drift into a fitful sleep when heavy footprints came towards you.

“This ain’t a bloody hotel, bugger off would you-!” He stormed, reaching down to grab your shoulder before he recognised you, “Y/n?”

You bolted up, relaxing only for a moment when you noted you weren’t in any immediate danger before descending straight into embarrassment. You would really rather he hadn’t caught you sleep-crying on the floor of a crypt. Then again, it didn’t really matter what he thought, you reminded yourself quickly. He scanned your face, finding pain written there and seemingly making a decision before he turned away.

You stood up, noting an old couch had been pushed into the far corner of the tomb. You sat on it, bringing your bag with you and noting that it was only marginally more comfortable than the floor.

“Here” Spike returned, offering you a half empty bottle of  liquor. You took it, nodding your thanks and taking two large gulps. His eyes bulged for a moment before pulling a face of slight approval, until you looked back at him and he hid any evidence of expression from his face.

“Why are you being nice?”

“You take that back. I’m not bloody nice”

“No, I know, you’re evil and all that. I’ll admit, I felt a little shiver when I saw you first until, I uh, remembered you couldn’t…” You tailed off, “Not helping my case am I?”

“Liquor’s the cheap stuff so you’re doin’ me a favour by getting rid of it” he shrugged. Spike was secretly pleased for the company. He had felt so alone of late.

You watched his lips, eyes scanning down to his neck and over his leather-clad torso. The way the dim light accentuated his features, the curve of his jaw, that sparkle in his eye, that smirk that was never far from his lips.

Oh God, no. You didn’t… did you?

[vole-mon-amour]

and they shouldn't have 😠.

I never hoped for this. this is a mess.

x

if you recruit both, give me back the datamined dialogue of Halsin asking the player to choose between him and Minthara. the way she kidnaps and tortures him in every timeline, and the way she kills him in one of the outcomes. is he supposed to just forgive her that? she slaughters his Grove and he's supposed to just forgive that?

man, I wish Larian would have stayed true to what they originally planned. again, it's great that they support the game, lots of things were improved (that should've been done in the first place before the release but alas), but we're getting an entirely new game from what it's been when 'fully' released. at least stay true to your ideas, since it directly affects the plot and its conflict.

give me the ability to play as Halsin before the ship crashes, then. make him the original companion and let me be captured as him and tortured before our party arrives and saves Halsin (us) (or, you know, betrays us). let people learn about his very similar to Astarion trauma that is being treated like a joke and hidden behind a very optional dialogue that is very easy to miss, even if you try hard to see as much of the game as possible on your first run.

we know Minthara is in a cult and is being manipulated (which is its own topic because of the damage that she still does) and she verbalizes it. we learn about it from her and it's not a joke. we know about everyone else's trauma. why the hell is Halsin's being portrayed like this?

(and yes, I know that his comments about his slavery and abuse are victim blaming and that's he's repressing those memories, trying to convince himself it was all fun and mutual. but it wasn't!

Astarion went through a similar experience, but he knows it wasn't his fault. he knows the horrible things that he's done and that he was (still is sometimes) an asshole, but he's done those things to survive.

Karlach went through slavery, but she knows it wasn't her fault.

Wyll became a demon due to Mizora's trickery, yet it is very clearly treated like it's not Wyll's fault, it's Mizora's, his abuser.

Gale is not 100% innocent, but Mystra is clearly his abuser, too, due to the chronic pain that the orb is causing him and how it's a danger to him and everyone around him. Mystra tells him to blow himself up and treats him like he's her puppet. live or die, he's nothing to her.

like, what! the! hell! why is Halsin the only one who gets this kind of treatment of his trauma? why doesn't he get a chance to heal, the same way Astarion does? where did all the plot for Halsin's arc go, too?

Halsin deserves fucking better.)

upd: thought I made myself clear, but apparently not: this post is about Halsin. his personality, and trauma, and how they are portrayed compared to other characters. if you want to talk about Minthara, make your own post. also might block me/the anti tag while you're at it.

[inawickedlittletown]

Just Let Me Adore You (BuckTommy) -2/6

Summary: What if…instead of Chimney taking the role of interim Captain of the 118, Tommy is asked to take on the role.

Or, what happens when Buck meets Tommy in S2

Words: 3.4k

Notes: Title from Adore You by Harry Styles

Read on Ao3

Part One

-

Part Two

After growing up in Hershey, chocolate factories didn’t impress Buck much. He’d gone to the Hershey factory a few times on school trips and it’d been fun the first few times. Buck wasn’t even sure if it was his proximity and how often he had that chocolate as a kid, but he really wasn’t all that fond of it. He’d also had some great chocolate down in South America that made anything American pale in comparison. Not a lot of people knew it, but that was where cacao beans came from. It wasn’t Mexico either like some though, but Ecuador. 

The Seymour Chocolate Factory wasn’t even one he’d heard of and he kinda figured the chocolate probably wasn’t even that good, though they did leave with a small bag of chocolates by the end of the call. The call came about a guy that had fallen right into a chocolate vat while on a tour. 

As they were walking up, Buck heard Tommy say to Chim, “this would be the moment the Oompa Loompas give us a musical number.” 

Buck had no idea what he meant, but there was no time to ask for clarification. 

None of them had any idea how to get the guy out of the chocolate vat until, after a few failed attempts, Tommy pulled out his phone. They all eyed him. 

“What? A good Captain uses his resources. In this case, Bobby probably knows more about chocolate than anyone I know. Unless one of you has a better idea?” 

He wasn’t wrong. Bobby’s advice worked and between all of them they had the teacher out and then on a stretcher. 

Buck held himself back as they walked out and wound up next to Tommy. 

“That was a good call, getting Bobby on the phone.” 

Tommy smiled at him, crinkle eyed and gorgeous. Why was he so good looking? More importantly, why couldn’t Buck stop noticing? 

“It wasn’t like he was going to get flushed out or sucked up in a tube,” Tommy said. 

“What are you talking about?” Buck asked. 

“Willy Wonka,” Tommy said. 

“Who?” 

Tommy stopped and turned to look at him, making Buck almost run straight into him. 

“Okay, I’d understand if you never saw the original movie, but you have to have seen the remake? Johnny Depp was in it.”

“Uh, no,” Buck said. 

“It was a book,” Tommy said next. “Roald Dahl. Oompa Loompas? The kid that got turned into a blueberry?”

Buck stared at him blankly. 

“This means nothing to you, does it?” 

Buck shrugged. 

When they finally made it out, the ambulance had already left, Hen having gone with it. Chim and Eddie waited by the truck. 

“He’s never seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Tommy announced as if Buck had committed some kind of crime.

Buck was used to missing movie references. Chim had long given up expecting Buck to get what he was talking about. Buck had always been that kid that couldn’t sit still long enough to get through a movie. That and all the time he spent outdoors doing daring thing after daring thing. Not to mention that his parents hadn’t been big on tv time. 

“He’s never seen much of anything,” Chim said with a laugh. “Him and his sister both. You’d think they were raised in some commune, but instead they’re just from Pennsylvania. I’ve taken on the task of introducing her to some classics.”

Buck shrugged his shoulders. “So, what exactly are these oompa lumps?” 

“Oompa Loompas,” Tommy said. “And you won’t understand until you watch it.” 

When he turned to Eddie, Eddie just shrugged at him, but he was grinning in that way that meant Eddie was too amused by the whole thing to help. Chim mimed zipping his lips closed. Looking at Tommy just got him a shake of his head. They also banned him from looking it up and on the way back to the station, Chim even grabbed his phone out of his hands even though Buck wasn’t going to google it. 

“I can just look it up when I get home,” Buck told them. 

“Or you could watch it,” Tommy suggested. 

“Only if you watch it with me,” Buck shot back, not sure exactly why he said it.  

Tommy didn’t respond at once and Buck felt like he’d gone and put his foot in it. But then, “Yeah. Alright. If only to make sure you actually watch it.”

—

He tried to invite Chim and Eddie over to watch Willy Wonka with him and Evan, but neither of them was interested or available even if they did want Tommy to let them know how it went. Hen had also turned him down in favor of a date night with her wife. So, Tommy was on his own. Due to Evan’s living situation, he also had to host. So at least they got to use his living room with his big screen tv and sound bar. 

Evan showed up with pizza, beer, and a veggie tray. He looked a little nervous even after Tommy invited him in. He watched as Evan took in Tommy’s house. It was very much a work in progress and Tommy had been doing most of the work on his own, so it was taking him a while to get through all of it. He expected it would be at least a year or two before he was finally satisfied by which point something would need to be repaired or repainted. 

“I like your place,” Evan said. 

“Really? It’s a bit of a half finished mess.” 

“But one you’re clearly putting time into,” Evan said. “And you’ll like the end result because of it.” 

“Well, lucky for us, one of the things I did finish is the living room.” 

It was the thing he’d tackled right after the kitchen — which technically wasn’t even done — , the upstairs bathroom, and parts of his bedroom. He needed a place to relax and wind down after long shifts. So, it had become a priority. Tommy led Evan there and cleared off the coffee table for the food. 

They sat down side by side on his couch and Tommy grabbed the remote. 

“It’s an older movie,” Tommy informed Evan. “I think you’ll like it, though.” 

Evan got into it pretty quickly. He did ask questions like about the bed the grandparents shared and Tommy mostly just told him to keep watching. Tommy was more of a romcom re-watcher, so he hadn’t actually watched Willy Wonka in years. Still, it was more fun to get Evan’s reaction to things. He’d forgotten how eccentric and weird the movie was and watching Evan react was everything. He expressed so much and laughed with so much surprise that it was absolutely endearing. 

“Those are the Oompa Loompas!” Evan exclaimed when he first saw them, giggling. “I get it now.” 

By the time they finished the movie, Evan had turned to him with a big grin. “Okay, that was actually pretty good, if a little odd. You said there was a remake?” 

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. It’s different, but still good. Wonka is completely different. The whole vibe is different.” 

“Might have to check that out,” Evan said with a smile. After a pause, “We could have another movie night?” 

“That’d be nice,” Tommy said and he meant it. 

Evan stayed a little bit after the movie, discussing the more ridiculous aspects of it. Then, somehow, talking about what Tommy would be tackling next on the house. 

“I did construction,” Evan offered. “I can help out if you ever need a second hand.” 

The thought of Evan working with him to put new flooring down or to sand and stain his cabinet doors was far more appealing than it should be, but he nodded and thought that he wouldn’t actually ask Evan for help. He might not survive it if he saw Evan dressed down and sweaty doing physical work in Tommy’s own home. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he told him. 

—

Phone calls with Ali were getting exhausting. Buck had known what he was signing up for when he started dating her. She’d been clear from the start that she traveled for work and considering Buck’s own hours he’d figured it’d be fine. It was for a while. When she was in LA it was always fun. It was different from Abby and Buck liked that. Still, it always left him feeling a little left behind whenever she went off on yet another trip. She’d call, but it wasn’t the same as having her in LA. It wasn’t the same as being able to just see her whenever he wanted and that made it hard. 

When the time between calls started lengthening and lengthening, it almost even felt like he wasn’t dating anyone at all. One night they even had a discussion about opening up the relationship, making things more casual. Not that they were even necessarily talking about each other in any serious manner to begin with. 

“It’d be a lot easier on both of us,” Ali had explained. “You can be free to meet other people and so can I.” 

Buck hadn’t argued with her or known how to approach such a suggestion. Maybe he should have. It had just felt like if he didn’t she would just leave him once and for all. He tried his hardest not to think about her out there meeting other guys and maybe finding something better elsewhere. Someone better. For his part, he didn’t want to go back to who he used to be, so he didn’t even try to meet anyone else. 

It wasn’t until…but no, Tommy was a guy. Buck wasn’t interested in him like that. He wasn’t, right? He tried not to think about their movie night. How it had felt to sit on Tommy’s couch feeling his warmth next to him watching chocolate shenanigans and being perplexed by the whole thing and then also feeling Tommy’s gaze on him. There was just something about him. Buck felt like a magnet being pulled in by a force he couldn’t fight — one he didn’t want to fight. And that…that was scary. 

It was what found him knocking on Bobby’s apartment. 

“Hey,” Bobby said and motioned him in. “Want some water?” 

“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” 

Bobby’s table was covered in wedding stuff. 

“Am I here at a bad time?” 

“Not at all. What’s going on, Buck?” 

Buck sank into the chair. “Bobby, you gotta come back to work.” 

Bobby chuckled as he set down a glass of water in front of Buck. “I’d love to. It’s not up to me.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do? Can’t we like write letters or something? Talk to them?” 

Bobby shook his head. “I don’t think that will help, Buck. What’s going on? I thought Tommy was doing well.” 

Buck kinda panicked then because Tommy was actually good at being Captain. He was different than Bobby, of course, but not in a way that made Buck or really anyone on the team want him gone. Tommy was knowledgeable and his own expectations about how the equipment was kept and how everything was stocked. While he’d hung back a bit the first few shifts, after that he’d jumped right into action with them, knew how to balance being in charge and telling them what to do with also being part of the solution. Buck was more than a little impressed with him. 

 “No, no, he’s doing fine. He’s a good Captain. He’s not you, but he’s good. Way he handled that bombing the other day? Or the chocolate factory…I can see why he was picked to hold your spot.” 

“I’m glad you like him,” Bobby said with a smile. “So, what’s happening, Buck?”

“Ali wants an open relationship,” Buck blurted out. 

He could tell that he’d shocked Bobby, at least for a moment. He recovered quickly. “Is that something you want?” 

“Not really,” Buck admitted. “Or…well, I don’t know. You know it’s not unusual or anything and it works for some people. You know, some people think that people aren’t meant to be monogamous. I don’t think I’m too bothered by it like as a concept.” 

“But this is not a concept. It’s your life, Buck.” 

“Yeah. I know,” Buck said and it was entirely the problem. 

Okay, so it wasn’t like Buck didn’t know that he had a bit of a slut era. His Buck 1.0 days…Buck wasn’t ashamed of them. And maybe in that time he’d explored a bit. One thing that Buck had realized was that he could never do threesomes. They were complicated and Buck was bad about sharing. Jealous, even. 

Bobby stared at him and Buck stared back. If he could just share all his thoughts with Bobby without saying them outloud, it would actually solve everything. Not even just his Ali problem, but maybe the near obsession he was having about Tommy. 

“I don’t think the problem is the open relationship,” Buck said.

He thought about Abby leaving and how she had tried to tell him in a roundabout way that what she wanted was to be free from everything and everything included him. He hadn’t been in love with her, though he had loved her. Cared about her. Convinced himself he would have a future with her. Had he realized what Abby meant by Eat, Pray, Love, Buck was actually sure that he would have been upset. Then again, it wouldn’t have been some dragged out thing. 

With Ali…shouldn’t he be more upset? Shouldn’t he be angry and maybe even jealous because why was she bringing it up if she didn’t already have someone that she wanted to sleep with? Was this her roundabout way of saying that they were over? 

“I don’t think I should be so…so okay with it. Or not care,” Buck said. 

“Oh,” Bobby said. 

Maybe it was that she was gone all the time. Gone so much that Buck hadn’t had any time to get attached. Not really. Not in the way that mattered. 

“Then maybe this would work for you, if you were looking for something different,” Bobby tried.  

Tommy came to mind right away. Except that…he couldn’t do that to someone, least of all Tommy. Buck groaned, as if that were even an option. 

“Buck?” 

“What if…” Buck trailed off. He couldn’t say it. “No. I guess I should talk to Ali.” 

“That’s probably a good start. You know, I don’t have to be your Captain for us to have these talks.” 

“No, but it would be less confusing if you were,” Buck muttered on his way out and didn’t know if Bobby had heard him. 

—

He could see the devastation on Eddie’s face. The woman — his wife — was on the stretcher and from what Chimney had whispered to him and Tommy’s own experience she wasn’t going to make it. She was already dead even if it hadn’t caught up to her. Eddie didn’t seem to know it fully yet, but he watched as Hen and Chim worked on her. 

“We need to intubate,” Hen said from inside the ambulance.

Chim stopped her. “No.” 

“No?” Hen asked. 

Chim shook his head and his eyes met Tommy’s, before looking to Eddie. 

“Chim’s right,” he said. “I’m sorry, Eddie.” 

He could tell that Eddie understood. He’d been an Army medic, had worked as a firefighter long enough that of course he knew. 

“If they intubate,” Tommy said, “that tube may never come out. Right now, before they do that, just take a minute.” 

“He knows,” Chim said. “Eddie, I’m sorry…this is…come on, you can say goodbye to her.” 

There was nothing that could have prepared any of them to arrive at a call to find that the one person seriously injured — other than the driver — was the wife of one of his firefighters. 

Tommy gripped Eddie’s shoulder, not that it made much difference and then he watched Eddie climb into the ambulance. Tommy closed the door behind them and then turned around. 

“Hey,” Evan said. “Is she—”

Tommy shook his head. Evan let out a sigh and he pressed his lips together. He took a quick glance around. The driver had been loaded into another ambulance. The minor injuries had already been looked at. Evan let out a sigh and his eyes met Tommy’s again, looking a bit glassy. 

“We should go to the hospital,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah.” 

He wasn’t surprised when Bobby arrived, was glad to see him so that some of this burden wasn’t on Tommy. It was more than a job, these people were Bobby’s family and they needed him. Tommy wasn’t that for them and he wasn’t all that close to Eddie to offer the comfort that Bobby could 

Eddie left with Bobby, clutching a bag with her belongings and looking lost in a way that Tommy had never experienced for himself. 

They didn’t talk about it on the way back to the station and he told dispatch to take them off line for the remaining time left on their shift because it was only a few hours and they were all more than a little distracted. The 118 could go back online once B-shift took over. He found Evan in front of the tv, staring out into nothing. 

“Did you know her well?” he asked. 

“No,” Evan said. “Met her a few times here or there, but that was all. Eddie really cared about her, they were kinda reconnecting, I guess. She hadn’t been a part of Eddie’s or Christopher’s life for a bit. Now…”

“That poor kid,” Tommy said because he hadn’t even thought about Eddie’s son. 

Eddie had probably told him by now, had torn his world apart. At least Christopher would have a good dad. He would have Eddie there to grieve with. He would have a dad that cared and that loved him even if he never saw his mother again. 

“Yeah,” Evan said. 

Life was like that, made up of tragedies. 

The next time he saw Eddie, it was a few days later. Tommy had arrived early to do some paperwork and the last person he expected to see was Eddie. He was in civilian clothes at least, not that Tommy would have allowed him to work even if he’d gotten the uniform on. 

“Hey, Eddie, how are you doing?” 

“Alright, everything considered. Funeral’s in a couple of days.” 

He still looked lost. Like he was still out on that street looking at Shannon. 

“Well the last thing I want you to worry about is work,” Tommy said. “Take all the time that you need.” 

“Even with all those bombs showing up?” Eddie asked and shook his head. “No. I think I’ll need to work. I’ll need to be back so I can stop thinking about it. Stop picturing it.” 

It felt like a mistake. He didn’t want to say no and he didn’t want to make things harder for Eddie, and yet in their line of work there was no room for distractions. Distractions led to mistakes and mistakes in their line of work could be life or death. 

“Look, that’s…I’m not saying you shouldn’t come back at once. I just, I want your head to be in it. I want you to be in the right state of mind. Have you thought about talking to someone?”

Eddie looked taken aback. “What?” 

Tommy should have expected it. Guy like Eddie who’d been in the Army and who had probably not bothered to do any therapy after it, of course he didn’t think he needed it now. 

“The department has good grief counselors, Eddie,” Tommy said. “I won’t put any restrictions on when you can return, but I want you to see one…if they say that you’re fit to work and willing to do a few more sessions then that’s that.” 

Eddie looked like he wanted to argue, but Tommy was going to hold strong on that. He didn’t know what Bobby would have done in his place, but Tommy knew what Gerrard had done for a firehouse and a team that had lost one of their own. Tommy knew what Captain Reid at Harbor would do, too. 

“Are you serious right now?” Eddie asked. 

Tommy sighed. “Eddie, come on. I have a whole team to look out for here and this is not even really my house.” He lifted an eyebrow. 

“Okay,” Eddie said. “Fine. If that’s the only way.”  

“It’ll help, Eddie. I don’t…I’ve never been married, but I’ve lost important people. I get it. It isn’t easy and it won’t be for a while. How’s your son doing?” 

“As fine as he can be doing,” Eddie said. “My parents are here. My sisters. It’s helping him. It’s stressing me out.” 

“Parents are never easy. If you need to get away, give me a call. There are distractions that aren’t work, you know?”

[imawreck]

Lead

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Finally, the Avengers get wind of an upcoming attack from Hydra, and they all scramble to prepare for it in order to get Max back.

Author’s Note: Hey! Hope you’re all doing well! Just want you to know, we’re getting closer to catching up to where I’m currently writing on the story. I also have some ideas for this story’s future, or perhaps a second part to this series (once I finish it) where Max intervenes in the series Falcon and the Winter Soldier. If you have any interest in that, just comment!

Warnings: nudity, most warnings from the last chapter, suicidal thoughts (read with caution please), branding

Word Count: 4,177

Steve-

Twenty-seven reported murders in a month. That didn't include Pietro Maximoff. Twenty-seven people dead with no leads, no prints, no evidence. All of which were people in high power who were replaced almost as fast as they had gone. There were no connections and no leads. Tony watched the news every morning and listened to the police chase their tails over this 'Serial Murderer'.

We all knew who it was. There just weren't any leads for us to figure out who she'd kill next.

The realization that Max was being used the way the Winter Soldier was had broken Bucky. He never left his room during the day. He had completely isolated himself.

Wanda... She had stuck to staying in her room and only coming out for plates of food to take back with her. No one wanted to stop her.

The team was in shambles. I wasn't even sure we could really be called a team anymore. The missions we went on hardly did anything worthwhile, and those were few and far between. Tony had alerted the authorities about the situation at hand but since there wasn't any evidence or leads, there was nothing they could do.

We were sitting ducks.

That was, until Wanda stormed into the commons room with wild eyes. "I know where she will be hitting next."

"What? How?" I stood from the couch, "That's impossible."

Wanda pursed her lips, "I was upset after... after everything, and my powers got the better of me and it just happened."

"What just ‘happened’?" I met her in the middle of the commons area, searching her face. "You aren't making any sense."

Her fingers ran through her ratty red hair as she looked wildly around the room. "I heard them. I heard her name, Ghost, and I heard his thoughts. He said that they were going to be hitting s-some sort of, like, safehouse or something. A government building in the states. They are going to send her there tonight to destroy it."

I shook my head, taking it all in. "Do you know the exact location?"

"No, but I saw an image in his mind on a map. I can find it." 

I nodded, "Go to Tony. Now. Tell him what you told me and make sure not to leave anything else out. And Wanda?"

She had started toward the elevator and stopped short, "Yes?"

"Your powers, you sure it just happened? You weren't trying to do anything?" I knew she was lying. I had seen it in her eyes the minute she walked through and said it.

"Yes. I was upset and it just happened." Wanda held my gaze and didn't waver a bit.

I sent her off with a nod. Even if she was lying, it was a lead. We couldn't risk not looking into it. I just hoped that Tony would have enough to convince the Feds to let us hunker down and try and catch her in the act.

_____

Max-

A pile of stale, bland porridge sat on the floor in front of me.

I hadn't touched it, couldn't. Not with the harrowing images still clinging to mind. Simply staring at it for too long made bile rise in my throat. 

I had been stripped naked after Giles had gone. I was left to fend off the cold with nothing more than my own skin. Which wasn't working very well at all. My fingers had long since turned blue and gone numb. I didn't know why, perhaps it was another form of torture or simply to take what little dignity I had left. 

My weakened body had adopted a tremble in order to generate even the smallest amount of heat. I didn't want to acknowledge that it didn't leave me even when I was allowed into the heat. Still as death, I remained laid on the floor with my eyes open. Maybe if I wished hard enough, I would just pass on. Maybe death would be better than this. There wasn't anything or anyone waiting for me if the miracle of escape happened, it wasn't like anyone would miss me. 

A flash of Bucky and Natasha kissing in his room swept through my mind and the sting of tears met my eyes. Not even he would be waiting for me.

I curled my arms tighter around myself as the sound of boots echoed through the crack under the door, a dozen at least. No one had been sent to move me since Giles used the scepter, so they had probably already moved me while I was out. So, I waited, trying and failing to prepare myself for whatever would walk through that door next.

I was not prepared for Rumlow and his seeping ego to sling open the steel door with a dozen goons on his heal.

I stared at him, taking note of the suit he wore and his polished shoes. And that awful gaze scouring over every inch of exposed skin bared to him. "My eyes are over here, dipshit."

A laugh rattled across the walls, "Even all weak, you've still got a mouth on you, huh?"

"I still bite, too." I gnashed my teeth at him to punctuate my point. 

Rumlow sighed, a smile curling onto his scruffy face. "Are you not surprised to see me here, of all places?"

I made a point to furrow my brows, pretending to think on it. "No, not really. Sleazeball men are right on brand for Hydra." I grinned wickedly at him, "You fit the bill to a tee."

His smile left, and I savored it, however small a victory it was. "You should learn to shut your mouth, bitch."

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks, didn't you know?" I sat up, folding my legs in such a way to preserve as much of myself from him as I could.

A feral kind of rage flickered in his eyes. "I came to give you a gift."

Gifts and Hydra definitely don't go well together, and my history with Hydra's 'gifts' weren't exactly pleasant. I chose to just stare at him, waiting for him to do something.

"What, no sarcastic remark? No questions? I've been working with your beloved Avengers. Don't you want to know how they're doing?" He crossed his arms as if he'd won something, the cocky asshole.

"I'd just be wasting precious air." I gave him a tight smile, "Conversation with brick walls aren't very productive."

The men waiting behind him coughed and teetered on their toes. It did nothing but irritate him further. "Haul her out."

They moved right on his words, swinging the cell door open and gripping my arms to drag me out. I screamed at them, thrashed as much as I could and knocking a few of them off, but I was weak. Very weak. After nearly five minutes of fighting against their insistent pulling I was spent. My knees buckled and hit the cement with a painful thud. 

My heart pounded in my ears and my vision went foggy as I tried to catch my breath. The itching in my veins thrummed back to life and wriggled in the back of my mind once more. I felt, more than saw, them drag me through several halls. We turned a few times, but my head was pounding too hard for me to pay too much attention to it. The men constricting my arms finally slammed me onto a metal table where they strapped me down. 

I was unwillingly restrained and exposed. And pissed. "What could you possibly want from me? Haven't you taken enough?"

Rumlow's lips curled, "Darling, as long as you're breathing, we still have much more to take." I jerked at the straps keeping me in place, but it only served to spur his joy. "You know, I really wanted to dance with you a little longer that night. You remember, don't you? You looked so delicious in that little dress."

I could only watch as he picked something off the table one of the doctors had rolled up. I felt the air shift along my bare legs as one of the few people bustling around the room in white coats threw a thin sheet over my lower half. I silently thanked them for the scrap of fabric.

"But you had to go and call me names for asking a pretty lady like yourself if you were screwing that barbarian." Rumlow's words were low and violent. "I just wanted to have a good time, you see, but you had to go and call for help. We both know you don't need him to defend you." A metal rod rolled between his fingers as he paced out of view. 

I didn't like not being able to see him.

"I've been feeling a little upset that you turned me away, I'll admit. I thought you'd be flattered to have someone wanting you. After all, you're just an animal really. You should be grateful that someone shows any interest in you at all." His tactical clips caught the light as he rounded the table on my left side, the rod gone from his grip.

"If I'm just an animal, that must make you one sick bastard." His hand came down hard across my cheek, and the skin stung there. I refused to take my eyes off of his face. "You're pathetic."

Rumlow snarled at me, slamming his fist down on the metal table next to my arm. He hung his head for a moment, collecting himself, before his black eyes met mine once more. "I nearly forgot your gift. I wanted you to know that your little Avengers are doing well without you, better really. Your toy soldier is off with that redhead having the time of his life. I figured you'd want to know that they're happy without you slinking around any longer."

I knew he was lying, he had to be. Tony was my friend, and so was Wanda and Peter, Thor too. I knew that they wouldn't stop looking for me. Not if they knew I was still alive. "You're lying."

But he just shrugged, "Believe me or don't, but I'm telling you the truth." He disappeared once more, only to reappear a few moments later with the rod he had earlier. 

The scent of burning metal drew my eyes up the pole in his hands to the red-hot insignia sizzling against the cool air. My stomach bottomed out. "What are you doing?"

If a man could look like a demon, Rumlow sure did. His eyes glowed with the red metal swinging in front of him and his teeth gleamed in the light of it. "I'm repaying you for turning me down. No one gets away with turning me down. Giles told me I couldn't hurt you too bad with the mission coming up, so I had to get creative." He swayed the rod in emphasis, and I flinched at the heat rolling off of it. "I want you to have a reminder for forever. You're weak enough now that it won't heal quick enough before they pump you full of drugs and your little healing trick won't work. Not after what they're going to do to you." He motioned to the white coats that had lined themselves along the wall.

Waiting and watching.

I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to claw at the straps keeping me on the table. I wanted to shred Rumlow until he was nothing but ribbons, but I couldn't. I was too weak, too drained to do anything but stare at him wide eyed and cry as he lowered that rod until it was level to the left side of my neck. "Please, you don't have to do this."

Rumlow's laugh was long and deep, skittering over my bones as the heat of the Hydra insignia crept ever closer. I had begun to sweat. "Oh, but I want to."

I wrenched against the restraints, pulling with every last bit of energy I had. I felt it groan, and then one of them gave way. My arm was free. I swung it down against the arm that held the bar just a few feet from me, swiping my jagged nails against his arm. He yelled out, dropping the rod with a curse and waving over a few men. 

There wasn't enough time for me to pry my other hand free before they were on me, pulling and shoving me back down against the metal table. I could hardly see much through the tears pooling in my eyes, only vague outlines of faces leaning over me against the overhead lights. I felt the heat once more nearing me, "Please." But no one would listen.

And then he was pressing it against my skin. My eyes rolled back as I screamed, but then it all drowned to darkness.

_____

Bucky-

The room still smelled like her perfume. Lavender still clung in the air where her candle sat unburned for months now. Satin sheets caressed my unshaven face where my body had pulled the covers from their neat display. I didn't remember passing out, or how I ended up in here again. Sometimes I would find myself at the door without realizing it, like I had forgotten she was gone.

The lights were out, and the curtains were pulled to keep the sun out. My stomach growled in the silence of the room, and I pressed my hand over it to silence it's complaining. I didn't feel like moving, so it would wait. I breathed in, closing my eyes to try and recall the way her skin felt against my own. The way her hands would scrape gently against my scalp to lull me to sleep on the nights my nightmares got a little too much. 

I yearned for her like a drowning man yearned for air.

But she wasn't here, and the weight of her absence was suffocating me with each day. I didn't know it was possible to miss someone this much. Not until her. With her soft eyes and love for poetry, her strong heart and tenderness. She had somehow dug herself a home in my heart that would search for her until the day I took my last breath. And it pained me.

The door rattled as someone knocked against it. I didn't so much as flinch at the sudden sound, too drowned in my own mind.

"Bucky, it's Steve."

I really didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to talk to anyone, really. But Stevie had given up trying to invite me to their dwindling team get-togethers for a while now, so whatever it was he had to say must be important.

I hauled myself up, stumbling over to the door as I blinked my bleary eyes from the fog that seemed to cling to them often with my inability to sleep. I pressed the handle, slipping through the door and shutting it behind me. I didn't like to share our- her room.

I blinked a few more times to adjust to the damn LED lights that lined the hallway before I could see enough to take in the urgent expression on Steve's face. "What is it?" I didn't really bother with being polite nowadays.

His brows pinched, "Wanda thinks she knows where Max is going to hit next. Tony believes we might be able to intercept it and get her back. He's called a mandatory meeting. Seeing as you've chosen to ignore most of those now, I figured I would come get you myself." He wrung his hands, "It's best if we hurry. Tony says it'll be in a few days, and we need to be as prepared as we can get."

I nodded, letting his words roll through my head once more. A chance to get her back. "Let's get on with it."

_____

Tony-

Wanda sat across from me vigorously scratching her pen against the blank paper I had handed her. A map, now marked with the location of the building Max was supposedly targeting, sat on the table between us. I had pulled up the information about her target as well, noting that it was another Politician of high power. She was more than likely targeting them to be replaced by Hydra members to gain more of a stand in society. 

My eyes drifted back to Wanda who resembled a madwoman as she tore out a page and slapped it against the steel table only to repeat her scrawling once more on a brand-new sheet. I had no idea what she was scribbling on there, didn't dare mess with the piles stacked haphazardly across its face. She had explained vaguely that she had somehow tapped into one of the Hydra agents mind and that he was directly involved in the missions that Max was sent on. She guessed he was a handler of sorts, or a pilot, someone she had to come in contact with frequently.

The elevator toned down the hall as Banner and Clint made their way towards us, Natasha lingering in the hall for a few moments before following them. I had made a point to keep the information vague. I didn't want Shield to have an opportunity to stop us from the slim chance that we could get Max back. 

Since her disappearance, the government has fallen into a frenzy in an attempt to quiet the worry rippling through the ranks. They hadn't had an issue this big since Barnes and having a repeat of history this soon was really rattling them. I had heard whispers of what they were planning to do with her if they ever caught her. Mentions of containment or even execution had been thrown around and it worried me. It had taken the worlds hero, Captain America, to plead for Barnes's freedom. What would it take to get hers?

Just thinking about it made me sick. I was itching to do something about it. Just then, the elevator tolled again, and in came the two super soldiers followed by Vision who didn't even bother to use the elevator. He just dropped in through the ceiling and nearly sent me into cardiac arrest. No biggie. "Jesus, Vision! Use the door!"

"My apologies, Mr. Stark. This way preserves energy and time. You seemed to be in a hurry." He seated himself beside Wanda, shooting her a look I couldn't read.

"Yeah, yeah, just sit and stay quiet till the rest of them get in here." I took note of each of them as they took their seats. We all looked like we'd been drug through the mud. I felt like it, too. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I'd apologize for being vague, but I'm really not. I wanted this to stay within the team."

None of them spoke, letting the silence swell. Only Barnes's arm clicked and shifted in the silence where he sat clenching his fist and Wanda's constant scribbling. 

"Wanda has gotten a lead on Max's whereabouts and we have a small window of opportunity to intercept her on a mission." I picked up the remote from the table, "This here," I motioned to the screen display, "Is the area she's scoping out for her target, Chairman Houser. It isn't in use at the moment, but it has the facilities to function as a safehouse. Somehow, Hydra has figured out his movements and plans to kill him while he's touring the building. Our job is to prevent her from killing the Chairman and restrain her. If we can get Max back, we can stop this whole ordeal."

Wanda had stopped writing. 

Steve leaned against the table, "Okay, so we restrain her. How exactly do we plan on doing that? She's stronger than all of us. It's not going to be easy."

Wanda shifted a paper in front of her. "They said she's weak. It should be easier to handle her."

"What do you mean weak?" 

All eyes went to Bucky. He sat rigid in his chair with his eyes glued to the side of Wanda's face. It had been a long while since any of us had seen him. Months, maybe, since he'd come out in the day when all of us were around. 

Wanda didn't look at him as she adjusted her stacks of paper. "They didn't specify, they just said that she was weaker than she used to be. Slower, less strong. She bleeds and bruises like the rest of them. That's what I heard, anyway."

 Steve dropped his head, "What else did they say about her mission?"

Again, she shifted a stack of papers and thumbed over a page in particular. "They said that it would be in three days. Something about a recovery time. We have three days to come up with a plan to save the Chairman."

"And save Max." 

This time, Wanda looked at him. Bucky hadn't pulled his eyes from her since she had mentioned Max. Like her name was one of his trigger words and held him captive whenever it was said. 

The air grew tense before she nodded, "Yes, and save Max."

The look on Bucky's face didn't say that he believed her, but he didn't say anything else as I grappled for their attention once more. "Alright, so we're going to need a solid plan. All ideas need to be thrown on the table. Max might not be in her own head, but she's smart, and I don't want to risk losing this opportunity while we've got it. Wanda will brief us on the information she's gathered about Max's mission, and we will go from there."

_____

Three and a half hours later, we had all hammered out a strategy to split Max from the Chairman and get her into an enclosed space. We figured if she was confined, it would be easier for us to tag team her. The risk of her overpowering us was still there, but with both Wanda and Vision on this mission, I had a good feeling we would come out on top. 

The team thumbed through the pages we had compiled which contained the layout of the building and all possible exits. We had plotted points for the drop and discussed multiple non-fatal weaponry we would load the jet with. Barnes had been adamant about them and pushed that we reserve fatal weapons in case we were ambushed as a last resort. I agreed just to keep him from tearing a hole through the table if any of the members so much as thought about refusing him. 

I understood what he was feeling though. I missed her too, and I knew that what Hydra was doing to her was a fate worse than death. I wanted her back nearly as much as he did, so much so I was willing to risk security for her. Shield would shut this operation down the second they smelled a hint of it. Windows like this were rare, especially with how careful and calculated Hydra had become with Giles heading it all. He was an intelligent bastard.

A chair slid out from the table, drawing my attention from the documents at hand. Steve aligned his papers against the table and gazed at all of us. "I think it would be wise to practice in pairs. None of us should try and take her on alone even if she's weak. Don't tire yourselves but be prepared."

We all nodded, taking a moment to soak in what we had discussed. 

None of us had fought against Max in a genuine fight. Only Barnes had gotten a glimpse of what fighting against her would feel like and she'd given his nose a clean break. Cap had gotten bruised ribs too, that time when she had stopped us all from attacking Bucky when his head was all blended up. But all of those instances were defensive and not at all serious, not really. Sure, we had seen her fight, and it was brutal, but it had never been against us with fatal intent. With a job like ours, that made all the difference.

"I think it would be best if we made the most of the time we've been given and get as prepared as we can. Even with a solid plan, we have no idea what she'll do or what orders she's acting on." I pushed out from the table, "Wanda, I want constant updates. I want to know the tiniest bit of change if it's made. This whole ordeal depends on it."

She nodded, her magic fluttering just over her skin as she dug around in whoever's poor mind that had leaked Hydra's information.

With a final breath, I took in their tired expressions. "I know these last few months have been difficult on us all, but now is our chance to make things right. Get some rest and be prepared. It's time we bite Hydra in the ass."

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