#i hope that covers tags y’all have filtered out

[dykeredhood]

The way Under the Red Hood addresses fatherhood and a wayward/formerly esteemed child deciding on the best way to handle existing issues (even if it conflicts with resolute parental authority) instead of being used as a tool (or if it comes to it: a useful body)

It wrecks me every time

[aziraphales-library]

hello! so grateful for all that y’all do ! seriously it’s so nice being able to come on here and browse and get fresh and classic ideas instead of just adding filters- aziraphale bless you 🙏

i would really appreciate a long and fluffy wholesome fic with a bit of spice in which it has it all — confessions, moving in, possibly marriage?! and ofc our favorite side characters! i don’t mind AUs as long as it’s really in depth and lengthy 🥰

thank y’all so much!!!

Hi! If you've been browsing you've surely checked our tags that cover everything you've asked for: #fluff, #long fic, #love confessions, #moving in together, #south downs cottage, #proposal, #marriage, #apocalypse buddies. Here are fics that may or may not have been recommended on the blog before...

Dreams Told in Flowers and Stars by Izabella95 (M)

While rushing out of the library, Aziraphale suddenly runs into the redheaded boy he's been watching from afar. Thanks to some interference from his best friend Anathema, he slowly learns more and more about the botany obsessed student.

The Only One I Still Know How to See by Furuba_Fangirl (E)

Aziraphale has been an admirer of Anthony J. Crowley for years. However, the gap between audience member and stage actor begins to thin when they are given the chance to officially meet.

A Second Chance by Yelhsabeech (E)

Aziraphale just had to get through his last year of high school-then he could move to London and never move back. He can't explain why he's so drawn to the older boy who worked at the florist's..

Crowley is an ex-con who is just trying to keep his head down, trying to be worth his room on this earth. When his dog causes him to meet a boy with pale blue eyes however, he starts to wonder if he can hope for more..

I Only Have Eyes For You by Twilightcitysky (M)

After narrowly escaping execution, Aziraphale and Crowley want to fly under the radar for a while. Worried that performing miracles will reveal their location to their former bosses, they relocate to the country and stop using their powers. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is ready to start moving faster... and Crowley has a secret. Can he keep Aziraphale from realizing what's changed while juggling moving trucks, furniture assembly, inquisitive mediums, attacks of Feng Shui, and the mortifying ordeal of grocery shopping?

A fic about moving in together, finding yourself, and finding one another.

Meditations on Domestic Bliss by wordsphoenix (NR)

Everyone is alive. Time for an angel and a demon to start doing some living. Preferably in close proximity and with deeper significance than the friendship previously mentioned, since feelings are very much allowed now that Aziraphale and Crowley are aligned with emotionally-driven creatures, and, more importantly, each other.

The professor, the old crush, the new love by AccroV (E)

Aziraphale Fell is an english literature professor who freaks out when he discovers that his new colleague is his ex best-friend and crush from high school : the one and only Anthony Crowley. They didn't talk for years after one night in high school. What can happen now ?

An AU with : high school memories, awkward flirting and lot of good feelings

- Mod D

[wandering-writer-ha]

Here is the sneak peak for squad 7! @cloneshippingbigbang

I’m excited to be presenting this to y’all! I hope you enjoy it :D

@reaalikaasu is the very talented artist!

Fic Title: Best Part

Rated: Teen

Word count: Over 25,000

Pairing: Fox x Thorn

Tags: cloneshipping, clonecest, CC-1010 | Fox, Clone Commander Thorn, CC-5869 | Stone, CC-4477 | Thire, CC-2224 | Cody, Clone ocs, jedi ocs, Sheev Palpatine, Mother Talzin, Canon-typical violence, palpatine dies, Mace Windu, Plo Koon, CC-6454 | Ponds, CC-3636 | Wolffe, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, Satine Kryze, Mon Mothma, Padme Amidala, Bail Organa, Alpha-17,  CC-1010 | Fox / Clone Commander Thorn, implied anirexdala, 

Summary: Commanders Fox and Thorn are trying to survive the war together on Coruscant. Can they survive Palpatine’s machinations?

Snippet:

Stone’s voice was groggy and confused on the other end of the comm. "Fox? What's going on?"

"I overslept, somehow. I’m sure I set the alarms properly - some bastard must have turned them off," Fox explained in a rush. “Why didn't you comm me earlier? You know that Brink is going to be on your ass for pulling a third double in a row, even if I am grateful that you apparently decided to cover my shift without checking in with me. But I'm not injured, so you didn't need to do that.” He transferred the call to his bucket comm as he finished dressing in his armor, pausing for just a moment to snatch a breath and one of the emergency ration bars stashed in his bunk-side drawer.

"What? No, I'm not still on shift,” Stone answered, and he sounded increasingly bewildered. “Thorn took report a couple of hours ago. It's fine, Fox. Don't you - " 

Fox cursed under his breath, tensing up further. He'd been unsure about whether or not the unnamed thing between himself and Thorn should continue - despite the warm-soft-fuzzy feelings, he didn't want to overstep, and here Thorn was covering for one of his missteps. "Force karking damn it. I still wish that one of you had woken me up! I'll be at headquarters in five. Hopefully he hasn't had to cover too many of the meetings I'm supposed to be in for security reasons today."

"FOX! You don't have any meetings scheduled today. You're also not scheduled for patrol!" Stone half-yelled. "Fox, don't you remember?"

Fox paused for a moment, trying to figure out what Stone was referring to. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, but in his not-panic over being so horribly late to his shift he couldn't quite remember what it was that he should be remembering. "Remember what? That I'm horribly, horribly late? And that if any of the nat-borns we deal with - outside of the Jetiise - realize this slip up, it's back to Kamino for recalibration if I'm lucky?"

"Force's sake, Fox! You have the day off. Your request for leave went through," Stone cut in, talking over more of Fox's babbling with fond exasperation. "None of us woke you up because you're on leave.”

Fox blinked in surprise, and the memories slowly filtered back in at Stone’s words. That’s right; he had  five days off, all in a row. His request, submitted months ago, had finally been approved a couple of days previously, despite the Supreme Chancellor originally rejecting it. 

Fox had Bulwark to thank for that; the Chief Medical Officer had petitioned the Jedi Council directly, citing that battlefield commanders regularly got leave after campaigns, but the four commanders of the Coruscant Guard had never been granted leave because they were permanently stationed on Coruscant. Apparently he’d also had some choice words about CorSec all but abandoning their duties to the Guard - none of which the vode were even trained for, much less had the resources to take on. 

While Fox had been concerned to hear that one of his vode had criticized CorSec so blatantly to the Jedi, he had to admit that Bulwark got results. Each of the commanders would get a few days of leave off over the following months.

Fox, who knew well that the kindly old grandfather persona that the chancellor projected in public was a flimsi-thin mask hiding quite a bit of petty vindictiveness, was surprised that the Jedi had been able to strongarm him into agreeing to even that much, and he dreaded how Chancellor Palpatine would punish the Guard for it later. It was clear that the chancellor had grown very used to having an enormous amount of power and the privilege that came with it. Then again, maybe even he had finally admitted that the Guard was of no use to anyone if they burned out.

“...Right,” Fox replied belatedly. “I forgot. Sorry to have bothered you.” He winced. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”

[isabellehemlock]

Five things I love to write

Thank you to both @beepbeepsan & @alllthequeenshorses for tagging me in a lovely, insightful, question to ponder my creativity ~ I could have sworn I did this a few months back for @boutiquetraveltravelboutique​ but can’t seem to find it on my blog now lol.  

And then I thought, “well, that was a few months ago - and maybe I’ll share what I’m working on now and into the next few months??”  Sooooo get ready - Some might be familiar with things I do tend to write about, and some - might be like, “Wait, you’re doing what??”

Y’all gonna be like: 

The rest under the cut lol

Non descriptive references to things but still, I hope y'all got your filtering tags on 👀

1. Dark themes

My next two fics cover murder, cults, medical trauma, food trauma, domestic violence, drug use, spiritual abuse, child abuse, csa, and a bit more that I’ll wait to share until they’re ready for posting.  I think because it’s not something I tend to read casually on my own, and because I appreciate tags for these things, it has left a false impression for some people.  Won’t they be surprised when I wrap up my final fandom event and dive into something no one expected?  Going out with a bang for my final TOG pieces, it’s been a year in the making, and I’m finally at a place to write it with the attention and energy it deserves.

2. Affirming theological themes

Not a real shocker but I’ll be continuing my streak of affirming theology for religious queer characters.  It’s projection for me, and resonates with about dozen people I’ve had the privilege to get know across fandoms and platforms.  It’s healing for myself, it’s healing for them, and I don’t imagine deviating from it much regardless of what future fandom’s I’ll be writing for.

3. C-PTSD & trauma

Kind of hand in hand with the above, in that certain events can have a lasting impact, so though I know I have written about this - it’s been a much more affirming way as people have already made strides towards a more functioning baseline (though maybe Endless Ocean, and Their souls were knit together (and he loves him as himself) were fairly close to what I’m aiming for).  However my final piece will be at the start of that healing journey so it will be much more visceral than I think the surface scratching I did in those two linked.  It’ll be rough. 

4. Interpersonal dynamics and communication

And in a shock for no one . . . I will continue to be writing about these two themes and how we as people can communicate our wants, needs and desires in a healthy, productive way while still honoring our own boundaries as well as others.

5. Found family 

Once again, I adore a good theme that speaks to me on a personal level.  There’s something about nurturing relationships with people where you say, “I choose you.” and they say, "I choose you, too."  Yesss please ~

So . . . there ya go.  Brace yourselves lol.

[waywardimpalawriter]

#36: "I want to try for a baby" with Sam Wilson?🥺💕

Little Cap’s

Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Tooth rotten fluff nothing more.

Word count: 2,653

Summary: You’ve been thinking about it for a while now, just wasn’t sure how Sam would take the question.

Note’s: Written for the wonderful @autumnleaves1991-blog  for the Writer Wednesday-Writer Challenge. Thank you so much doll for tagging me and including me in this opportunity.

Set after the ending of Falcon and The Winter Soldier, Sam has taken the mantle of Captain America as his own. This is my first time writing for Sam so I do hope I’ve done him justice.

Rolling the idea around your mind for what felt like the hundredth time today. Worried about his reaction, scared he might say no. Neither of your ready for the biggest leap since the ring he put on your finger. Sparking in the late summer Louisiana sun simple single two carat engagement ring catches your eye. Dreamy smile tugging the corners of your lips up.

“You gonna help finish these meal’s Y/N or stare at the rock Sam gave you?” playful annoyance filtering through her voice. Sarah glances your way smile bright and full spreading over her plush lips. “Come on girl quicker we get these meals out the faster we get back home and relax.”

“Yeah, yeah quit your bitchin babe I’m coming,” sending her a wink back. Thoughts temporarily side tracked as is your path when Cass and AJ cross, both boy’s laden with styrofoam containers. Delicious smells tickle your nose as they path tummy grumbling in reminder of a missed meal.

“Better get that checked out Aunt Y/N sounds like you got a bear in there,” AJ teases laughter in his voice.

Scowling playfully you take off after him intent on smacking his butt for the sass. But miss by a few inches, looking towards Sarah for sympathy. “What he’s not wrong and I told you to eat something earlier,” lips tipping up. Grabbing two food boxes at a time to pack them into the larger cardboard carry box.

“No love, non at all and you’re suppose to be family,” arms crossing refusing to help.

“Who’s suppose to be family?” Deep timbered voice asks from the side kitchen door, leaning on the frame like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Smiling russet eyes glance over Sarah and the boys before landing on you, back towards him. His favorite pink, yellow and white sundress fitted to your body, wearing it especially for him. Butterflies start dancing in your belly at his voice but you don’t turn just yet adding the last two containers to the box AJ packed up.

Shaking her head, “You’re late I guess there’s a first time for everything huh?” Hands placed on her hips trying to look stern but a smile spreads over her lips at seeing her big brother back in one piece.

“Don’t blame me for that Sarah. Bionic stare machine in the reason,” thumbing over his shoulder where Bucky appears sheepish grin on his lips.

“Uncle Sam you’re back, how’d it go?” Cass exclaimed happily running over to his uncle and flinging arms around his neck when Sam bent down to hug him.

AJ joining a little slowly, “Got the shield with ya this time?”

“Maybe but it’s not for you to play with,” Sam snarks back running a hand over the boy’s head, pulling him in for a one armed hug.

That’s when you turn seeing the love shinning like the sun in those such cherished eyes. Breath catching for a moment as visions filter through your thoughts. Sam holding his own child, your child, making your heart beat out a quick step. You try to cover by turning away and checking to make sure you have everything. Hoping Sam won’t notice.

“Ah but Uncle Sam please?” Puppy eyes on full blast eagerness in his tone.

But he does, filling the question away for when you’re alone together. “Don’t y’all got a truck to pack? Those meal’s ain’t gonna deliver themselves.” Stepping deeper into the kitchen with Bucky following. Eyes trained on you for a moment till Sarah moves and he shifts to look at her. Slight change in demeanor, soft smile on her lips with eyes, ‘No,’ drawing an invisible line from his sister to Bucky and back.  “Oh hell no, not the two of you. Seriously Sarah the man is old as dirt.” Exasperated huff leaving his mouth, running a hand over his head acting like the prospect pains him.

Partnership somewhere along the years turned into friendship though the banter and good natured ribbing still persisted. Somethings just never change ever over the years. Not that either one of them would. Their brand of team work fit the two of them perfectly and with amazing precision.  

“Don’t know what you’re talking about Samual and keep out of my business in that department,” brow lifting, Sarah grabs for the cardboard box.

Eyes rolling arms crossed over his massive chest everyone else quiet for the moment. “It’s my business since you’re my sister. Can’t have little cyborgs running around here.” Seeing your shoulders shaking, Sam tries to keep the humor from his tone, “I mean think what the neighbors would say Sarah. You’d be going out with a centurion.”

“Actually it’d be centurion plus ten,” Bucky butts in grin sliding over his lips, looking from you to Sarah as his features soften into an almost bashful smile.

“I think it’d be cute the two of them,” you quip reaching to takes Sam’s gloved hand in yours, gaining his attention for a moment.

Shaking his head, “Neither of you are helping any,” though his russet eyes stay with you before an “Oaf,” exists his chest, hand coming up to rub the center of his chest. “Why?”

“For butting in where that overly large nose doesn’t belong. Why don’t you mind your own business and stay outta mine?” Box in her arms, Sarah heads towards the door that Bucky holds open. Looking both men over with a fake exasperated sigh, “Neither of you can go to town in those get ups. Change and meet us at the carnival.”    

Turning back to you with a small pout, “Here you deserved it buddy told you not to snoop in her love life.”

“No sympathy for your fiancé?” Wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you against him, feeling the leather crease with your curves pressed tightly. “She still hits damn hard. Wanna make it feel better?”

Triple groans leave three sets of mouths and you both turn to see Bucky, Cass and AJ making gross faces. Pretending to throw up while holding their stomachs. “No one said you three needed to stay,” sassy tone to your voice. “AJ, Cass your mom is waiting and Buck get up stairs, shower and change the both of you look like shit by the way.” Though worry underlays the tone noticing the slight limp Sam’s sporting, along with a busted lip. Bucky not much better with buries blooming purple along his jaw and eye. Who knew what other injures the two of them acquired from this mission. “Sure hope the other guy’s look worse.”

“Count on that on Y/N,” nodding then he turns to head upstairs following your orders. The boys having already disappeared out the door.

Attention back on Sam, cupping his whiskered cheek, “You need to shave baby, it’s grown since last I saw you.” Brushing your fingers over the soft beard, worry filled eyes locking with his.

“I’ll get right on that sweetheart but first there’s something I’ve been needing to do since I left,” voice quiet drinking in your beauty. Tightening his arms around your waist to pull you a little closer. Captain America’s new flight suit bitting into your cloth covered frame. Circling your arms around his neck and drawing little patterns with your nails on the skin just below the collar of his suit.

Tipping your head to the side, “Oh and what would that be?” Innocent smile tugging your lips. Sure it’s only been three weeks since he left out but that’d been a long three weeks of worry and fear. You trusted his skills and that Bucky would watch his six. It’s the other assholes you didn’t put much faith in. The bruises and scars littering his body a testament to how hard they tried to put him in the ground for good.

“Eat a slice of that heavenly banana bread Sarah makes,” keeping his face neutral as a gasp leaves your lips, making his twitch. Halting your fist from smacking the same place Sarah did. Palm come up to caress your cheek, bringing you close breath ghosting over your trembling lips. “Thought I was serious sweetheart,” words mumbled before slanting his lips over yours.

Gentle to start, just pressing your mouths together finding the right fit and sliding his tongue over the seam of yours. Requesting permission which is granted on a sigh, melting into his arms. Wrapping yours around his shoulders giving over to him those little noises he loves to brag from your throat. Meeting his tongue to tangle and caress each other. Teeth snagging your bottom lip to suck and nibble on a moment while gathering air. Before diving back in deepening the kiss till you’re both breathless and panting. Foreheads resting, eyes staring with goofy little smiles on your faces.

“Missed me didn’t you?”

Teasingly, “Nope don’t know what you mean Mr. Wilson I missed Bucky though.” Giggles bursting from your throat with the groan from Sam. Who drops his head on your shoulder squeezing you closer in a hug. Lips brushing his ear, “You know better than that Sam I always miss you.”

“Tease,” turning his head to press a kiss to your neck right when the car horn sounds making you both groan. “Impatience as always,” pulling back to place on more kiss to your lips. “Go I’ll see you in a bit. Save me some cotton candy?”

“Of course and a ride on the ferries wheel to,” not wanting to let him go but knowing delivers needed to be made. Leaning up on your toes to press one last kiss, “Welcome home my love I missed you.” Before pulling away, grabbing the box and walking over backwards. Watching him as he stares back love shinning in those deep russet eyes. Blowing him a kiss at the door.

“Y’all can trade gooey eyes later Y/N shake a leg we got work to do,” Sarah calls out making Sam shake his head and you to laugh.

Heading for the door, Sam grabs your hand one more time, “Miss you to sweetheart, I love you.”

“Love you more,” quickly pressing forward to give him one more kiss. Jumping off the last step and up into the truck waving as Sarah pulls out heading towards town.

Two hours later, food passed out you and Sarah parked yourself on a picnic bench near the parking lot of the town carnival. Sharing a pretzel with hot mustard while the boys run around working off the sugar high they’ve put themselves in. Gathering crowd catches your eye, smile spreading over your lips at the sight of Sam and Bucky. Pausing to take pictures sign autographs for the kids mainly. Both men cleaning up nicely though your eyes stay with Sam. Dressed casual with a fitted blue Henley top two button’s open and black jeans that hugged his thighs and waist just perfectly. However, it’s his demeanor, laid back at easy with himself and those around him which speaks to you most. Catering to all the children who beg for a photo or signature. Heart expanding when a young mother asks him to hold her baby for a picture. Watching how he cradles the young one to his chest and coos has a small gasp leaving your lips.

“You need to ask him before your ovaries explode while you stare,” teasing cadence in her voice making you whip around to stare at her. Laughter sweet and clear echos around the small area. Beating the table with one hand in her mirth Sarah rests her head on the other.

Heated face buried in your hands hating and loving that Sarah knows you so well. “I can’t help it Sar that man was made to make beautiful babies. Most importantly making them with me,” bottom lip tugged between your teeth, eyes landing back on Sam who’s striding over.    

“I see the two of you have started without us.” Sliding beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you against his side.

Plucking up the last bite of pretzel to feed him, “Couldn’t wait much longer handsome. What took the two of you so long? Here I thought us women are bad.”

“Went to check on the boat heard it’s been running a little rough,” looking over at Sarah while saying. “We’ll take care of that tomorrow sis it shouldn’t be too hard a fix.”

Nodding, “Should leave it to someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“And I don’t?” Faking offense, hand on his chest.

“Last time you tried to fix the boat, you damn near blew it up Sam.” Teasing tenor states from beside Sarah making both women chuckle and Sam rolling his eyes.

“Thanks for backing me up Buck,” glancing over at you then pointing at Bucky. “You believe him thought we were friends I’m wounded.”

Laughing harder, dropping your head on his shoulder while Bucky answers straight faced, “We’re barely partners Wilson I don’t know where you get friends from.”

“Come one,” taking his hand, tugging up up. “You promised me a Ferris wheel ride remember.”

“Where’s the cotton candy?” Getting up Sam wraps an arm around your waist as the two of you wave a goodbye to Sarah and Bucky.

Steering towards a small inclosed trailer, signs advertising cotton candy, kettle corn, deep fried snickers and corn dogs for sale. You step up, pulling your small wallet out but Sam places his hand over yours to pay and grab the paper stick from the vendor.

Snuggling into his arms, walking and sharing the sticky sweet treat. Line thankfully short of the ride, not the most popular with the kids being slow and only one direction. Though for you it holds a special meaning of the first kiss you and Sam ever shared all those years ago.

“Do you remember our first kiss?” Nodding the the attendant who holds the little bar up for you and Sam to slip into the metal seat.

Getting as comfortable as one could, arm wrapped around your shoulders to hold you against him. “How could I forget that night sweetheart.” Gazing down at you, he leans in to brush his lips over yours, “It was the night I lost my heart.”

“Oh Sam,” happy tears forming in your eyes. “I love you so much.”

“Damn good thing because I love you just as much,” smirking that’s wiped from his mouth when yours pressed back into his. Deepening the kiss, gasping when the wheel comes to a stop at the top giving him the advantage to slide his tongue into the sweet cavern of your mouth. Sampling your favorite and drawing a whimper from your throat.

Breaking on a sigh, “I know it might be too soon but seeing you with AJ and Cass, plus tonight with the little baby you held.” Reaching up to caress his cheek seeing the furrowed brow in confusion. Soft smile spreads over your kiss swollen lips. “I want to try for a baby Sam.”  

First time for everything, Sam Wilson is at a loss for words till the Ferris wheel jerks to a start again slowly. Fear clutching your heart till he turns that mega watt smile on you. Breath lodging in your throat at the unadulterated love shining in those deep russet eyes.

“Can we start tonight?” Catching the smirk tipping one side of his lips up before there on yours insistence and demanding. Stealing any words you’d reply with and transforming them into little whimpers and moans.

Breaking when the ride comes to a stop and someone clears their throat. “Looks like there’s gonna be little Cap’s running around instead of cyborgs.” Good natured chuckle leaving Bucky’s lips watching his best friends kiss.

Foreheads pressed together, sharing gasping breaths, “I’ll take that as a yes?” Moving to place a kiss to your forehead then helping you out to rejoin the family.

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Shape of Her

My first ever one shot for all my lovely Cavillry babes! (I’ve recently edited it to make the actual title the title of the post. It’s the same fic formerly under “New One Shot for the Cavillry.”)

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC that is totally not me, the author (except that it is, and I just took out my name so nobody felt weird about it!)

Word count: 2053

Warnings: Rimming and oral (f receiving), slightly rough sex, but not like, violent, language, almost orgasm denial but like, not really, very thirsty OFC and a very hungry Henry, mentions of unemployment, panties are heavily featured…I clearly have no idea what might trigger some people, but if you have concerns, ask me. It’s really just smutty smut for the sake of smut.

A/N: This was unsolicited, but I felt that curvy girls were lacking some representation in the fic community in general, so here is Henry worshipping a thicc queen. (Also, the undies in the fic are from Torrid and amazingly comfy, and the fact that I felt super sexy in them also helped inspire this one shot. I hope y’all enjoy.) Also, it’s not Beta’d. I just did my own triple check for glaring errors. Here’s hoping it’s not untenable gibberish. Lol!

Tags (no one requested tags, but I’m tagging the Cavillry babes I can think of, and if you want me to tag you in future work, just let me know. I don’t want to spam anyone): @littlefreya because she convinced me this was necessary, lol! Also @fishcustardandclintbarton @geralt-of-baevia @princess-of-riviaa @geekycanuck @lareinedususpense @radaofrivia @nothingdear @lunedelorient @sunflowersstan @captainbigdy @laketaj24 

She liked to air dry on the bed in just her panties. Scroll her phone, see what was new. When she had time, of course. And lately, she’s had no shortage of time. Henry felt for her. Being between jobs could be scary. But he knew great things were out there for his woman. But the air drying. She did this after every leisurely shower. She made a little nest of pillows and draped herself gracefully over it.

With one hand, she diffused her hair, still damp from the shower. He didn’t know what she was looking at on her phone, nor did he care. His eyes had fallen heavy and hard on her backside. He thought this part of her such a wonder. It was strong, round, and large, and it tapered down to her thick thighs. This morning, she had chosen to wear a fairly unassuming pair of briefs. Unassuming, he thought, only if one had never touched them, or seen them up close. Like he had. He’d even helped her pick them out in the shop. He knew that the silky fabric would look stunning on her.

He was right. The slate grey sheen of the fabric covering her ass caught the pure morning light filtering in through the window. With his eyes he followed the narrow lace bands around her thighs right under her ass. He started then at the wider lace band around her waist --yes, waist, not hips-- and was stopped in his tracks in the center of her back. He’d missed entirely, or perhaps he’d forgotten, that little v-shaped corset cutout just below the waist band.

This could no longer be a mission of observation it must become a more exploratory, manual endeavor. He tiptoed toward her, not wanting to startle her before it was time, or for her to turn over before he’d had his fun.

“Mornin’ Hank.” She said sweetly over her shoulder with a smile. She didn’t flip to her front. Good.

“Good morning, love! Sleep well? Nice shower?” He queried as he maneuvered himself between her legs. Just sitting, but with one leg thrown over the back of one of her thighs. He started working her calves which were always tight. He loved her shapely legs, though. He loved every curve of her.

“What are you doing?” She demanded with a slight start.

“I have to get the tension out while the muscle is still warm. You should know that, teach!” He loved teasing her like this for being clever. He loved calling her the teacher in the bedroom, even if he was the more experienced lover.

He increased the pressure as he went, but wanted to go further.

“Have any lotion handy?” He asked. She did, and she handed it right to him. He put a bit of the amber and vanilla-scented cream on his hands, worked it up until it was warm, and then started again. She was moaning now. That was always his goal. Then he switched legs, applying more warmed lotion and going as deep as he dared.

“Henry, I’m not gonna be able to walk when you’re done.”

“Well, I was gonna make that threat, but you’ve saved me the trouble.” He said as he turned around and playfully snapped her waistband making her jump and arch her gorgeous ass up into it.

“Mmmm, you bad man! How did I know from the moment I met you that you only wanted me for my body?” She teased.

“Because of the way I unwrapped and devoured you whole with my lecherous gaze, no doubt. You’re actually the first girl I’ve ever taken into a side room and fooled around with at an event.” He reminisced as he kissed her back, across her shoulders and down her spine until he got to that cutout.

“Fine then,” she said, mock surrender in her voice. “Take what you will. Have your spoils.”she hitched her hips up and put a pillow under them so he could explore every inch of her ass.

He relished the sensory experience of simply running his hands over the silky fabric covering her firm rump. He ran his nails over it, causing her to shiver. He ran his lips over it too, unable to resist that curiosity.

“Henry, I’m dying here!” She moaned.

“And you’re killing me with these knickers, we all have our problems.”

He ran a hand down between her legs to tease her sex. She ground her hips into it, needing the friction. He’d give her friction.

He slid the panties aside, and started circling her clit at first, then he penetrated her one finger at a time. She was so wet already. Drenched for him. This got him so hard. He didn’t want to wait to fuck her. A part of him really and truly wanted to skip her gratification and just plow directly into her getting his own rocks off. Spill himself messily all over her pussy, ass, and those gorgeous panties.

But he restrained himself. He wanted to make her come. Wanted to delay his gratification to hear and see her come apart under his touch. He kept working her, listening and feeling for her reactions. She was moaning into her pillow. And he could feel the tension building inside her. He thought one more element would send her over. He hadn’t used his tongue yet. And he had the perfect place for it. He kissed along her more exposed ass cheek until he got to her opening. He’d wanted to do this for so long. And now he finally was. He ran his tongue all around her tight hole. Experimenting with strokes, textures, and pressures. He got the tip in just a bit once, considering it progress. And she was breathing infinitely heavier, about to reach her pinnacle.

When she did, she lost all control of her limbs and her body. She said nonsense. He adored it. But he’d have time to adore her later. Right now he was about to burst and the sight of her cunt trembling and dripping was too much for his cock to resist. He thrust into her slowly at first so he could feel every spasm of her waning orgasm around him. She always squeezed him in all the right places, but he couldn’t recall entering her so quickly after making her come. Why hadn’t he done this before?

His thrusts were hard and they got faster as he chased his pleasure. He appreciated anew the fabric covering her ass. It made her feel almost as delicious on the outside as she did on the inside. He growled as he got closer.

“Where you want me to finish, baby girl?” He asked, as he tended to do.

“Don’t you fucking think about pulling out, Cavill. I want your hot come inside me.” Her filth sent him to new levels of lust and he went harder and faster. This was one of the many things he loved about her body. He knew it was sturdy enough for the unbridled pounding he could give without bruising or pain. She could take him at his most violent without harm or even complaint.

“I’m gonna come again. Henry. Oh fuck!” And when her body began to contract and contort again, it was all Henry needed to tip him into his own oblivion. His release was hot, fast, and glorious inside his goddess. He fell over the top of her still moving his hips, relishing the feel of her panties against his sensitive hips and pelvis. It was heavenly.

Their breathing was rapid, but slowing in tandem with one another.

“Fuck me!” She exclaimed.

“Isn’t that what I just did?” He teased bitting her ear and inciting a giggle.

“Oh you certainly did, sir. Most thoroughly.” She turned as much as she could with him pinning most of her body to the bed, reaching enough of him to pull on his hair. “Kiss me, you villain.”

He obliged, roughly, as she liked. A full mouthed kiss with plenty of tongue. He loved these hungry, wild kisses, too. He broke apart from her just long enough to flip her onto her back and prop her up with some pillows. He wanted her to be comfortable for what came next. Now that both of their thirsts were sated for a while, he could take his time in pleasuring her and not be bothered by his own need…at least not immediately.

“God, if I had my way, you’d never be fully clothed, do you know that?” She blushed furiously whenever he mentioned how sexy she was to him. He knew she’d never felt so and had rarely been told so. And certainly few had ever shown their appreciation for her voluptuous beauty. He’d show her at every turn. Her body begged to be touched. It was so soft and succulent.

He descended her body slowly and thoroughly, not missing the best bits of real estate, like her neck, clavicle, and her nipples, and further down where he found her hips. She loved to be teased here. And he did so. Over her panties that were rapidly becoming his new favorite article of her clothing. He worked his mouth over the layer of fabric for a few moments. Teased her mound with nips and hot breath.

“Henryyyyy!” She squirmed under him and grabbed a handful of his hair. He looked up to find her breathless and staring at the ceiling instead of him. That wouldn’t do.

He slid her panties all the way off, a bittersweet moment. He loved that they were soaked with her arousal and his seed. It got him half hard again, but he had other things to do.

He spread her legs wide and parted her lips. She was still drenched with arousal and his come. Good. He placed one feather light kiss right over her clit and she bucked. Her body was so responsive to his touch.

“Oh, I like that honey. What does this do for you?” And he latched his mouth to her flesh to lay mercilessly soft flicks over her bead. She couldn’t seem to form words, just sounds. But they were pleased sounds, so Henry continued. He descended, sliding the back of his tongue down to her entrance where he thrust into her gently and began undulating and moaning. Their combined flavors made him yearn. He couldn’t figure out why. But he loved tasting himself on her body. Especially here where her own flavor was most potent.

He added his saliva to the mixture there, and then brought his hand in. He slid two fingers into her, stirring her up and pressing firmly against her g-spot. As he worked his hand in her, he worked his mouth over her again, and he felt her losing control and heard her pleading for him not to stop. But she was still looking away from him.

He paused. And she cried out!

“No!” She looked at him, on the verge of tears.

“I won’t do it. Unless you look at me. Watch me, kitten. Look into my eyes while I make you come.”

“Argh, do it! Do it! I’ll never take my eyes off you again as long as you just don’t stop!”

He continued. Fingering her. Devouring her. Watching her. Watching her watch him. He moaned into her body. Growled. Like the hungry beast that he was.

She bucked and writhed and seized as he finished her. He loved being able to give her this. This unfiltered raw pleasure. He crawled up next to her, wanting only to lie next to her as she came down in the afterglow. But she took his face in her hand and brought him to her for a slow, languid, breathtaking kiss. He loved that she didn’t care about the state of his face. Apparently, the wetness there comprised of his semen, sweat, and saliva, paired with her sex was collectively her favorite flavor.

“How is it that after all this time together, you still shock me, Mr. Cavill?” She said in breathless wonder. She flattered him.

“Darling, we’ve barely scratched the surface of the pleasure I can give you.”

And with that promise, he buried her in the pillows behind her as she squealed and giggled with delight.

[consumedkings-archive]

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter five: dark vibrations

word count: 11.4k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: body horror, hallucinations (?), mentions of self-harm, mentions of suicide. spooky scary activities ensue. elliot has an increasingly difficult time keeping a grasp on reality. we knew this was gonna happen, though!

notes: howdy! i hope y’all enjoy this. sometimes i go weeks without updating and sometimes i wait like, 4 days before manically writing an entire chapter. you know how it be like that sometimes. i was feeling a bit more inspired and felt like i finally hit a groove on where this story was going, which i think definitely helped, and i hope you all enjoy it!

thank you, as always, to everyone who reads, likes/comments, even if you just come into my dms with two nice words or write something nice in your tags; it really does make my whole night to see even one person enjoying anything i’ve made. <3

Cold morning light filtered in through the window, drenched in wedding-silk grays thanks to the wintery cloud-cover. Everything in the room looked to be placed with absolute intent and care; polished, porcelain-white decor in elaborate geometrics, gold accents, a king-sized bed with impeccably pressed sheets. Truthfully, John had thought for certain he’d come back into the house to be informed by Elliot’s statuesque mother that, in fact, she had rescinded her offer to let him stay and actually, he would need to depart immediately, lest the authorities be called.

He was glad that it hadn’t come to that, of course, because it would’ve been such a shame to have to dampen Scarlet’s opinion of her own daughter so quickly into their meeting.

Dropping his small bag of belongings—the manila folder packed full of information, including his own scribbled notes; the burner phone; a few quickly-packed clothes that had been meticulously cycled to avoid the most long-term wear—John paused as the heat in the house kicked on with a delicate whirr.

Everything in Scarlet Honeysett’s home seemed to be precisely the shape and color that she liked, with not a single thing out of place; and yet, as the heat kicked on, he was certain that he could hear the sound of sharp, hushed voices downstairs, a little ripple in the woman’s perfect, arcadian home scene.

It was good. It felt good, to be here. To have gotten the upper hand. So much of the past weeks he’d spent with Elliot had felt like he was slowly, violently spiraling out of control, but this? She was here, and she had to play by his rules for once, and—

And he’d wanted just one more second alone, with her. To watch the way her eyes flickered over his face, to drink in the way her chin tilted up in defiance but not unlike the way she used to do it when she was waiting for him to kiss her, the same lovely high-color in her spreading along her cheekbones and the same little spark in her gaze. Whether it was anger or allure was neither here nor there, anymore; with Elliot, they were interchangeable, a stepping stone one way or another, just the way it had always been with them.

Because John liked her anger. He liked her wrath. He wanted to put his hands on it, his mouth on it, break it into pieces and wring it out of her and put it back and do it all over again, while she said his name, his name, and not anyone else’s. God, she’d been so fucking close—so close, and he couldn have just had her if he really wanted to, grabbed a fistful of her hair and kissed her when the sting of her slap was still fresh on his face. She liked when he did that; kissed her, like he was starved for her. Because he was starved for her, and then she could knot her fingers into his shirt or dig her nails into his skin or whatever it was she wanted to make him desperate.

The sound of excited barking downstairs broke him out of his thoughts. John blinked, taking one last swift look-over of the immaculate room his mother-in-law had decided to put him up in before he nudged his bag beneath the bed and stepped out into the hallway.

To say old money would be almost an understatement. Surely, this house had to have some kind of historical significance; it was several stories, with one of those grand staircases that was wide going up, hit a landing, and then split to either side of the house. As he made his way down, he caught sight of the flicker of Scarlet’s silk robe in the kitchen; music drifted out of it, the same kind of hazy, older music that Elliot had turned on in her mother’s house back in Hope County.

“Stop moving,” Elliot was saying to Boomer, strapping him into a little reflective vest that sat on him like a saddle blanket. For a second, she didn’t notice his presence—or willfully ignored it; he couldn’t say for sure one way or another—and instead focused on the Heeler, rubbing his ears and kissing the bridge of his nose. A tiny little smile ticked the corners of her mouth, and he thought he heard her say, so handsome, best boy, yes you are.

Boomer’s attention snapped to John, now at the foot of the stairs. He let out one sharp, accusatory bark (could dogs sound accusatory, John wondered, or was that just Elliot getting to him?), and what little of his hackles were visible from out under the vest spiked up instantly.

“Good to see you too, beastie,” John greeted him, trying to ignore the way the hound’s low-pitched, reverberating growls made his skin crawl. Flashes of Boomer’s numerous and vicious takedowns of not only Eden’s Gate members but at least one member of the Family that had the misfortune of having chained the dog up darted across his memory, like a flipping through a photo album.

“Don’t talk to him,” Elliot snipped, cupping Boomer’s ears protectively. “I don’t need him getting the idea we’re friendly.”

John rolled his eyes. “More than friendly, I’d say.” His eyes darted over her, drinking in once against the shock of her appearance—red hair, so fucking red that every time he looked at her it was almost like staring at a stranger until he took in the rest, the freckles smattering her nose and the flush in her cheeks, cupid’s-bow lips that were glossed. Had he ever seen Elliot with more than river-soaked mascara on before?

The woman shot him a look, dry and unamused, coming to a stand. He asked, “Going for a walk?”

“Trying to,” she replied tartly, “but someone is evil enough that Boomer doesn’t trust them.”

“We’re pals,” John offered pleasantly. “Me and the beast. You know, were, anyway. He probably just needs to spend a little time with me.”

“Speaking from personal experience, more time makes you less palatable.”

“Let me come on the walk with you,” he tried again, letting her little barbs and jabs roll right off of him, water skating off of his feathers. At this point, he really quite enjoyed her venom; it was familiar. “I’m sure we’ve got plenty to catch up on.”

Elliot eyed him warily, eyes giving him a scathing once-over—eerily reminiscent of her mother’s own disdainful look, and now he thought, ah, yeah, that is where she gets it from, then—as her mouth twisted around whatever it was she wanted to say but wouldn’t let herself. Something too vicious for Scarlet to overhear, perhaps. The threats she’d made in the past had been wildly colorful, but each second that Ell spent considering her words more carefully rather than saying whatever it was she felt with her eyes darting to the kitchen was another second that John became more aware of how little Scarlet actually knew.

“Fine,” Elliot said at last, her eyes narrowing. “I suppose that we do. Mama, we’re leavin’.”

The little quirk of an accent at the end of her sentence made him swallow back a laugh. He’d barely heard that Georgia accent back in Hope County, but maybe spending time with her mother had reinspired it.

“Alright,” Scarlet said, drying her hands on a towel as she stood in the doorway. Her eyes glanced between them, inquisitive for a moment, before she said, “Be quick. Doctor’s appointment in an hour and a half.”

John tilted his head. “Oh? Baby check-in?”

“Can’t imagine what else it would be, Mr. Seed,” Scarlet idled. “Are you familiar with the process of pregnancy?”

“Not beyond the knowledge of a man, I’m afraid.”

“Well, allow me to educate you,” the blonde said, her voice light. “When a woman is carrying a baby, she has to make frequent visits to the doctor, to ensure that all is well. Can’t have anything going wrong with the baby, you know.”

John steadied the intake of breath so that it did not sound so abrupt. He would have done a double-take and thought perhaps she was just overbearing, and not attempting to insult him, were Elliot not smiling. Certainly, only her mother’s attempted insult of him could elicit such an expression out of her.

“Then my arrival was fortunately timed,” he announced. “I look forward to it.”

“And you’ll be sorely disappointed,” Elliot cut in, her humor fading. “You won’t be coming.”

Ah, yes. That’s why I don’t love her attitude. “That’s absurd,” he replied, incredulous. “It’s nearly six weeks, and I haven’t seen a single ultrasound of our baby.”

He was careful, this time, to keep it to our baby. He’d seen the way Elliot’s expression tightened when he’d said my baby, even though that’s what came so naturally to him now, being that they were hardly on the same team—but he’d seen it, that look in her eye, the way she’d squared her shoulders like she’d suddenly been ready to go at him.

Only one thing to do with a rabid dog, Jacob had said, not two days before they found Elliot drenched in another man’s blood in the woods.

John half-expected Scarlet to jump in, to say that it was the father’s right to be there; she was more traditional than Elliot, if her comment about wedlock or her insistence of him staying were anything to go by, but when he turned his gaze to her, the older woman’s expression was devoid of any sympathy. Typical of Honeysett women, he was coming to find.

“If she doesn’t want you there, then you won’t be there. I won’t have my daughter stressed out,” Scarlet told him. “Stress is bad for the baby. Surely that falls within the realm of what a man knows about babies, Mr. Seed?”

He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Surely.”

“Good. Hour and a half, my beloved, do not be late.”

That a woman had become so capable of tacking the softness of my beloved onto something that verged on a threat was nearly beyond John—would have been, certainly, were he not accustomed to Isolde’s particular brand of venom that was not so unlike Scarlet Honeysett’s.

“I won’t,” Elliot promised. “Can you call the handyman? My TV’s been acting up lately. Turning on static and whatnot.”

“Fine,” Scarlet replied, waving her hand. “I’ll have them come out this afternoon.”

Elliot turned on her heel and opened the front door out into the frigid morning, letting Boomer dart out ahead of her and not waiting for him in the least. He fell into step beside her easily, shrugging into his coat halfway out the door as it clicked shut behind him; she trudged through the snow, passing the garbage can and opening the gate that led out into what had once been pastureland and towards the woods.

It was the same fence that she’d been standing at, early that morning, face lax and serene. If the return to the fence bothered her at all, it didn’t show on her face any more than her irritation at having him there.

“Your mother’s quite...” John’s voice trailed off. “Tall.”

“Mm.”

“Statuesque, even.”

“Mmhm.”

“I get the feeling she doesn’t like me that much.”

“Yes,” Elliot acquiesced, her tone dripping with something close to venomous amusement, “I’ve never seen her take so poorly to someone so quickly before.”

“I suppose I should be flattered.”

“You would be.”

A fourth of the way into the snowy pasture and Boomer was far ahead of them, leaping like a little speckled gazelle in drifts of snow. It was easy to forget that the dog had been ready to rip him to shreds just a little under an hour ago (and once more, more recently). Still, as they trudged through a path that it seemed Elliot had worn through a few times before, John let out a little puff of breath and glanced over at her.

For just one second, she wasn’t spitting any venom at him, but rather seemed to favor the act of pretending like he wasn’t there, which was a bit worse than having her fix her fury on him. Her gaze was focused forward, following Boomer’s little lines in the snow. Attention at all was one thing, but acting as though he didn’t exist?

John said, “So, Burke just got his autopsy reports back and dropped you off right here at home, huh?”

Elliot’s face had already gone pink from the cold, right on her nose and spreading through her cheeks. At his words, a new flush of color rose, a shade more vicious than the last, and her gaze slid to him. If looks could kill, he thought, that dreamy little spike of delight at her eyes on him going straight to his head. Look at you, my little Wrath. You’ve got the good girl mask on, but I know what your true face is.

He’d seen it. Kissed her when the blood was still in her mouth. Let her feed the monster inside of her when she told him to beg, when she dug her nails into his skin, when her breath hitched in her chest from the pressure of his knife blade against her sternum—not in pain, necessarily, but delight at that pain.

The scar had to still be there, of course. The reminder of its existence, swathed in the heavy winter fabrics she wore now, made his fingers itch. If he could just get his hands on her—get his mouth on her, if she would just stop being so obtuse—but he didn’t think he’d be so fond of her if she wasn’t.

“The same way the government probably drove you and your siblings back to the compound and dropped you off,” she replied at last, her voice tight, “isn’t that right?”

John flashed his teeth at her in a grin. “Very astute, hellcat.”

Her expression tightened at the moniker. She sucked her teeth, fixing her eyes forward again, shifting back into the strategy of being withholding of her attention rather than entertain him.

“Oh, come on,” he said, swinging around in front of her and stopping her single-minded journey across the pastureland. “You can’t say you didn’t miss me even a little bit, Ell.”

“I told you,” she replied tartly, “not to call me that.”

“Because it reminds you of what it was like when we’re together,” he agreed.

An exasperated noise came out of her. “Did you forget that I lied to you?”

“At the end, sure,” John said, eyes flickering over her face. “But I don’t think you’re so good a liar you could lie about all of the times you said please, or the way that you said my name, or—and I think you’ll recall I’ve insisted on this bit from the beginning—the undeniable connection that we’ve had since we met.”

“You are a fucking lunatic,” Elliot snapped, her face flushing red. “And don’t fucking talk about me like I’m—like I wasn’t there, I know what I—” She sucked in a sharp breath; lower, and more threatening, “I’m aware of what I said. Of what I did.”

“And you’re going to tell me that it was all fake?” he prompted, unwilling to let go of this little thread. Gripping, sliding through his fingers, but he wouldn’t be so quick to let it escape him now that he didn’t have to think about her mother pitching in an unwanted opinion. “That you lied the whole time and you don’t feel anything for me, that—”

“Of course it wasn’t fake,” she bit out. Her voice had gone venomous, sharp, unbridled in its timbre. “I’m not a fucking psychopath, John, I can’t fake loving someone like you can.”

John opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. He hadn’t been expecting that. Sure, there was a part of him that was sure Elliot had her doubts about his intentions, otherwise she wouldn’t have fucked off to the middle of nowhere (nor turned them in), but—still?

“You think I—” He paused again, blinking. “You’re not that stupid.”

Her eyes narrowed. Everything about her stiffened, quite suddenly, like maybe she was bracing to take another swing at him. “You are fucking begging for a punch to the face.”

“I mean,” John began quickly, waving his hands a little, “that you surely don’t think that whole time I was just—”

Elliot made a disgusted sound and brushed past him, letting out a high whistle; the sound immediately drew a flurry of activity as a flock of birds when bursting from the treeline, followed closely behind by Boomer’s gray-and-black speckled form. John fell back into step with her, huffing out a breath of air. He was going to table that discussion for later—she was clearly still upset, still a little sore and tender from their departure, and that was fine. There were a lot of things at play concerning his wife’s mood, including but not limited to being pregnant.

So she did, he thought, glancing at her through the corner of his eyes. Love me. Back then, and maybe now, still.

“How have you been sleeping?” is what he said instead, when the moment had spread between them long enough for him to think that he was safe to speak again with incurring her wrath once more. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fine,” she replied, her voice tight.

“Yeah?” he asked, keeping his tone conversational. Elliot blinked once, slow, clearly trying to temper herself. “I just remember what a restless sleeper you were, back home.”

He wanted to say, I saw you at three AM, twice, staring out your window and then walking out into the snow barefoot. I saw you sleepwalking, I know you aren’t sleeping well.

He wanted to say that, and he couldn’t, because if Elliot knew he’d been tailing her for a while she’d go berserk—pull the plug, self-destruct, take whatever loss she had to in order to fucking end him.

“I’m sleeping fine,” the redhead reiterated. For a second, she looked like she wanted to say something; her eyes flickered uneasily, like something was bothering her and she hadn’t been able to say it to anyone but maybe she wanted to, and maybe she could say it to him, but something in the treeline drew her attention away. They were about ten yards away, now, the low breeze skimming pine needles against each other as Boomer barked conversationally at the birds that had so rudely taken flight.

Elliot’s molars clicked, grinding together. Her lashes fluttered, and she sucked in a sharp little breath through her nose.

“Elliot?” John glanced at the trees, but that was all he saw—tall, dark pines, bunching together erratically through years of growth spurts and inevitable fellings. He turned his gaze back to his wife, gaze inquisitive. “What?”

“Don’t you—?” She stopped herself, and sucked in another sharp breath, and now John felt the concern spike sharp and hot in him, because when he reached up she didn’t even seem to register his movement; Elliot, the same woman who had snatched his wrist and threatened to snap it in half for having the audacity to ‘sneak up on her’ when he’d been in the middle of talking to her, completely transfixed on something that he couldn’t see.

“Elliot.” He tried something firmer this time, his hand coming up to sweep the strands of her hair away from her shoulder and neck. The gesture finally startled her out of wherever it was she had gone, yanked her back to reality.

Her shoulder bunched up to her jaw in an effort to deter his hand, swatting at him absently with her hand. “Don’t touch me.”

“Are you going to tell me where you were just now?” John asked, tilting his head inquisitively.

“I was here. Just thought I saw something in the trees,” she replied tightly, turning away from the treeline and clearing her throat. “Just birds.”

Just birds, she said, even though the birds had already taken off and the forest was otherwise still and serene. Behind her, Boomer whined before beginning to follow her back towards the house. Elliot moved with a newfound purpose, one that she had been distinctly lacking before.

His mouth pressed into a thin line. John turned his attention back to the trees, searching for anything—any tangle of branches of play of shadows that might read sinister or threatening.

Only the trees and their shadowy pines. He thought about that night he’d fished Elliot out of the Family’s grip, when she’d been so fucking drugged up to her gills that she’d balked at the sight of the treeline on their way out. I don’t think I can, she’d said then, her voice pitching high with the anxious vibrations of panic. John, I don’t think I can—

“John,” Elliot snapped from ahead of him, “are you coming, or are you just gonna stand there all fucking afternoon?”

He thought about the way Ase had grabbed her hand, blood and viscera coating Elliot like she’d become a tried-and-true Scream Queen. If he searched long enough, if he sat in the memory long enough—did Ase’s mouth open? Had she said something to Elliot? What had she said?

“John,” came the grinding demand, again, less patient than before. “As much as I would love to leave you to freeze to death for insinuating I’m stupid, mama would hate to have to deal with a corpse on her property and I’d never hear the end of it.”

“I missed our banter,” he replied, though the jest did not quite land the same way that it would have were he not so deep in his own thoughts. By the time he’d started walking in her direction, his back to the forest, something uneasy had settled just under his skin; the feeling of being watched, eyes on the back of his neck, anticipation prickling along like his spine.

The house loomed, polished and pristine, on the horizon; as they picked their way across the snowy field, Elliot puffing out breaths occasionally from the labor of it all, John tried to shake that pervasive feeling of dread that had settled over him.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Weyfield was just Weyfield, a small town not unlike Hope County, and maybe he was just jumpy from the way the Family had conducted their business, and maybe it was the same for Elliot, who had certainly been put through a different experience than he—but regardless:

The sooner they got out, the better.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Shouldn’t have agreed to let him drive me here.

“Have you been getting enough sleep?”

It was stupid. Stupid, I should have put my foot down, told him to fucking stay at the house and wait for me to come back.

“Elliot?”

She blinked, vision fuzzing and refocusing around the sterile white of the doctor’s office. Her abdomen was sticky, and the ultrasound machine had been turned off along with her shirt tugged back down. Like usual, Dr. Harding did not say anything about the gossamer-webbing of scars, but did pause upon first seeing them, as though she hadn’t seen them times before.

“Sorry?” Elliot said, the apology quirking up at the end in question. She sat up from the bed, the paper crinkling beneath her as she moved.

“I asked,” Harding reiterated, “have you been getting enough sleep?”

Elliot knew the answer. She felt the exhaustion souring in her mouth already, the way something spoiled when it went too long without attention. A sickness. She should say that she hadn’t been sleeping well at all, that she’d begun sleepwalking, that

(seeing things, I’m seeing things when I close my eyes and when I look in the dark treeline, I see faces, heads, people I don’t know but they feel familiar and their faces drop down in between the branches of trees on invisible silk threads and their terrible dark mouths open but they can’t scream)

she’d been feeling out of sorts, as of late. That seemed like a nice way to put it.

The dark images that had fluttered between the trees on her walk earlier that morning with John felt as real as any memory—and that wasn’t to say that her memories always felt real, because they didn’t. But the validity of this morning’s waking nightmare of floating heads drifting between tree-trunks, swinging loosely while John asked her how she’d been sleeping.

“Fine,” Elliot said after a moment, feeling a fresh wave of nausea come over her. “I think, um, maybe the stress about the baby is keeping me up at night.”

Harding regarded her for a moment. The severe sharpness of her dark hair pinned back did nothing to soften her expression—though the woman was hard-pressed to be cheerful, she, at the very least, never sugar-coated anything. “Have you been trying those breathing exercises before bed? And spending time at the stables, as I suggested?”

“I have,” she replied, which wasn’t entirely untrue—she was doing at least one of those things. “It’s just been a lot of—stress, is all. I’m sure it’ll get better once the holidays are over.”

“That can definitely help,” the woman agreed, nodding her head and typing a few loose notes into the computer. “If you find that you aren’t getting enough sleep—enough,” she continued, pointedly, “restful sleep, you let me know and we can figure out some next steps.”

Elliot nodded, coming to a stand; the sudden movement had her head rushing, and she for a second she thought again of the floating heads, swaying with the breeze through the pine boughs.

“I’ve been sleep-walking,” she blurted out impulsively, her doctor’s gaze turning quizzically towards her. “I mean—um, just twice.”

“Do you have a history of it?”

“No,” Elliot began, “but I’ve always been a restless sleeper.”

“It’s not uncommon for sleepwalking to increase with pregnancy, Miss Honeysett,” the doctor replied, her voice even-keel. “It sounds like you’re under quite a bit of pressure, as well. I would suggest trying something mild—an over-the-counter sleep aid would be fine. Unisom is a typical one. Try half of one first, and see how it makes you feel.”

“Okay,” she murmured, sliding her coat back on. Something that was less heavy-duty than the pills her mother had left for her might be good. “Are there any—symptoms? To sleeping pills?”

The doctor adjusted the glasses on her nose, regarding her for a long moment. “Some adverse side-effects, on occasion. Usually with stronger, prescription sleep aids, you could have worsening anxiety and depression, day-time drowsiness. That kind of thing.”

So, no hallucinations, then. No sleepwalking, no lost time, no...

“Are you having other symptoms?” Harding asked.

You’ll think I’m crazy, Elliot thought, you’ll think I’m fucking nuts if I tell you about my dream with the television, and Joey’s body, and walking out nearly to the treeline in my sleep clothes. You’ll think I’m fucking nuts and I’ll have to be committed.

So Elliot said, “No, just curious,” and Dr. Harding hummed as she scribbled the name of the sleep aid onto a sticky note for Elliot to take out with her.

“You have a healthy baby, Miss Honeysett. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” The brunette gestured for Elliot to head out the door, walking with her back up the hallway that led to the front lobby once again. “Next appointment we can find out the gender, if you’d like.”

“Oh,” Elliot said, surprised. Was it that soon already? Had it already been that long of being—like this? With child? She swallowed, pleasant little flutters in her chest. It was the first time that she’d felt something other than dread concerning the baby. Well, first time, sans John’s annoying little assertion about his claim. Why had that bothered her so much?

“You can decide to keep it a surprise,” Dr. Harding added, sound a little amused. “Think about it, and in the meantime, get some rest. Half a pill to start, remember.”

“Will do, thank you.”

She waded through the small collection of people in the lobby and out onto the street. Something strange was humming inside of her—it was sad, she realized, with a little spike of panic. She felt mournful. So fast, and so soon, she would figure out the baby’s gender, and suddenly the baby would be all the more real and she’d have to start thinking about names, she couldn’t have a baby without a name, and how was she supposed to pick a name? How was she supposed to decide something a real human being was going to be saddled with, forever?

Was the baby a Seed? Or a Honeysett?

Which one was she?

“What’re you doing, just standing out here? You’ll freeze.” John’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, shaking her back to reality again. He must have seen her standing there, glassy-eyed in the middle of the sidewalk, from where he’d been waiting—perhaps, if she was lucky, even suffering over the fact that he hadn’t been allowed into the doctor’s appointment—and come out. He’d kicked up a big enough fuss about not getting to come in that she’d said, fine, you can fucking drive me there, but that’s it, and true to his word John hadn’t pressed the matter any further than that.

Even though he wanted to. She could tell he wanted to, the second they had parked on the main street. She could tell he wanted to say, so, maybe I do come in, hm? What do you say to that? But he hadn’t. And that was...something.

Fuck, she needed to stay focused; she couldn’t keep letting her mind wander like that. Twice in less than an hour?

“I was just—thinking,” Elliot replied, feeling exhausted already. John’s brows furrowed at the center of his forehead, and she sighed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He arched a dark brow loftily. “Like what?”

“Like you fucking care,” she snapped.

“Contrary to what you might believe concerning my feelings for you,” John quipped, his voice tart, “I do have every reason to be invested in the well-being of our baby.”

She thought to reiterate again that the baby was, in fact, hers, and not any part his, as she was doing all the work and John had done nothing to endear himself as an acceptable father-figure, but she was too tired. Something about the doctor’s office and the way she’d had to dodge the truth of how she’d been feeling left her empty, scooped out her insides like she was a Jack-O’-Lantern and left her floating, aimless.

“Ell,” he began. His voice had pitched lower, now, and his hand reached up; she saw it move in the corner of her vision and something inside her said, yes yes yes, this is what we want, we remember you, we know you. He twisted a loose curl around his finger, letting it smooth out against her shoulder, the corner of his mouth ticking upward when she absently batted his hand away. “Tell me about the appointment. Did everything go well?”

“The baby is fine,” she told him, and then sighed. “I mean—healthy. The baby is healthy. The doctor wants me to pick up an over-the-counter sleep aid, so we’ll need to stop at the store on the way home.”

“I thought you were sleeping fine?” John prompted. He sounded sly. His was a gotcha tone, the way he got when he thought he’d walked a particularly fine circle through the holes in what she chose to tell him or not. Elliot’s expression flattened. She ignored the way that he was looking at her—hungryhungryhungry, always greedy and never, never content with what he had—and fixed her eyes on the passing traffic behind him.

She said, “Just when you’re being somewhat tolerable, you have to go and ruin it.”

“If it’s intolerable for me to point out when you’re withholding information from me about your health,” he demurred, “then I’d prefer intolerable.”

“I cannot believe that I have to say this to you,” Elliot bit out, the sudden spike of irritation flaring hot and violence in her chest, “but I don’t fucking owe you anything. I don’t owe you the truth, or an explanation, and quite frankly, the fact that I allowed you to even chauffeur me to this fucking appointment is a sign that I’m being incredibly generous with you—far more generous than what you deserve.”

John’s teeth flashed in a grin. Before, back in Hope County, the venom had bothered him—he’d hated it, frowned and fought back with a little poison of his own, despised that he had to work so hard to get to the nitty-gritty underneath. But he had once, and perhaps now that he had known her, it only thrilled him.

How frustrating.

“Everything I did,” he said, lowering his voice as he closed some of the small distance between them now, “whether you believe me or not, was for us—”

“Ugh.”

“—and I might have gotten a little heated,” John continued, and this time when he reached up again Elliot’s mouth twisted into a grimace and she tilted her face away, don’t say it don’t say it don’t you fucking say it fuck you fuck you fuck you, “back at the ranch, but I meant it when I said that I l—”

“Honeysett!”

It was Via. Her greeting immediately cut off John’s words, effectively driving a wedge between their metaphorical—and physical—closeness. Snapped her out of the magic of his cologne and his voice and his hand coming up to her shoulder with its grounding weight.

“Missed you at the barn today,” the blonde chirped, cheery as she approached, hands tucked into her fluffy parka pockets. Her eyes flickered over to John, inquisitive. “Friend?”

And then Via turned her eyes back to Elliot, waiting expectantly. It struck her quite suddenly that Sylvia was checking—that despite the kindness and warmth in her voice, she was giving Elliot the opportunity to escape, to wave a red flag and ask for help. She said friend?, and what she meant was, is this man bothering you?, and it made a fuzzy warmth spread right through Elliot’s chest, uncomfortable in the softness is inspired in her.

“Hey, Via, this is...” How best to proceed? How to explain, this man is the father of my baby—which, by the way, I’m pregnant—and also technically we are legally married, oh and also he’s supposed to be in Federal custody right now but he isn’t, somehow, but it’s fine, we’re all good? “...my...John.”

Sylvia eyed her for a moment, sticking out a gloved hand. “Howdy, Elliot’s John. I’m Sylvia.”

John was clearly trying not to have the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he shook Via’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Sylvia,” he replied pleasantly, once again reminding Elliot that the man was a tried-and-true practiced liar and could slip a perfect face on at any time. The knowledge was almost enticing, to know that she’d seen him without the masquerade, more than once.

It made, in hindsight, reflecting back on that moment he’d come unraveled at the ranch—No way, baby, I’m fucking it for you—have a different light. She had done that to him.

Good.

“Y’all busy?” Sylvia asked, blissfully not prying any further for an elaboration on what the nature of their relationship was. “I was just about to meet Wyatt at the Wild Rose. It ain’t trivia night, but they do have a live band playing tonight that’s supposed to be good.”

“Oh,” Elliot said faintly, “I don’t think—”

“That sounds excellent!” John interrupted. “I’ve barely seen anything of Weyfield. What do you say, Elliot?”

I say you can eat shit, she thought, but Sylvia was watching her closely—trying to make sure everything was okay, she supposed, considering Elliot had said nothing of John since they’d become friends. She took in a little breath and looked at the blonde, giving a small smile.

“No harm in a little time out of the house,” she agreed after a moment. “I’m starving, anyway.”

She wasn’t hungry in the least. The sticky note with the doctor’s suggested sleep aid was crumple in her pocket, and a little sweaty from the way she’d been clutching it, but somehow the idea of returning back to the house only seemed to fill her with more dread.

The tv, buzzing static, dull and thrumming in the back of her head, in the roots of her molars. HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? And the heads, twisting and turning in the breeze, their silk-spun puppet threads invisible, their mouths swinging open as they try to scream.

HAVE YOU BEEN HAVING STRANGE DREAMS?

“Well, can’t have you starvin’,” Sylvia said amusedly, looping her arm through Elliot’s own and beginning to walk. “You’re not keeping my girl well-fed, Mister John?”

“Trying my hardest,” John replied, his gaze sly, “but she can be a bit ornery.”

“Hm, that does sound like her. Where are you visitin’ from, anyway?”

As they chattered, over her, John on one side and Sylvia on the other, Elliot got the distinct impression that her friend was quietly, politely fishing for information without putting Elliot under the stress of it.

HAVE YOU

Snow underfoot. The forest breathing, expanding, swelling because it holds some great, dark beast just waiting for her to get close enough.

BEEN HAVING

(Itwaitsforyouitwaitsforusallanditwillhaveyou)

STRANGE

“Careful,” John cautioned, reaching for the door with all of the gentlemanly nature of a man not possessed by the devil to hunt her down across states, “it’s slick.”

He opened the door into the Wild Rose, the sweep of warm air rushing over her a pleasant shock to her system that managed to draw her back to reality. Sylvia nudged her inside, effectively planting herself between Elliot and John as they moved single-file into the crowded bar.

She was tired, and having nightmares, and once she finally got some sleep she would feel a lot better about everything. All she needed was some sleep. And in the meantime, try to enjoy her time with her friends as best she could.

Get some sleep. Feel better in the morning. Burke’s old mantra popped up in her head, running through the worn grooves that were a sad, bittersweet sort of comfort to her now; the second you think you can’t anymore, you keep going anyway. Dig, dig, dig, until her fingers were dirt-packed and bloody, as deep as she fucking needed to go to keep moving, because it wasn’t just about her anymore.

Get some sleep.

Feel better in the morning.

Sylvia had drifted out from their little formation to make her way to the booth they had recently staked out as their own, where Wyatt already sat waiting and waving for them. John planted his hands on her shoulders, squeezing and lowering his mouth to her ear. “What do you want to drink?”

“You’re acting awfully domestic for someone who should be in Federal custody,” Elliot replied lowly, looking at him over her shoulder just in time to see him flash a smile that was all teeth.

“C’mon, hellcat,” and he all but purred the words at her, making her skin prickle in a type of anticipation that wasn’t purely dread. Traitorous, treacherous body. “You can at least play at liking me while your friends are around.”

“Iced tea.” She shrugged, disembarking his hands from her shoulders. “No lemon. A lot of ice. Think you can swing it without, I don’t know, lying halfway to Hell on your way there, Slick?”

“Anything,” he replied, pitching his voice even lower amidst the din of the bar, “for my lovely wife.”

Elliot’s head snapped around, ready to grab a fistful of his shirt and remind him to watch his fucking mouth, but he’d already started his journey to meander through the crowd and reach the bar on his little fetch quest.

Fucker, she thought, even when her stomach twisted with something other than vicious disdain. John had only been here for a day and was already too comfortable taking liberties; she’d have to make sure that got nipped in the bud before he got any funny ideas about his own personal redemption arc.

It would have been nice, to just be able to turn off any and all feelings whenever she wanted. But she couldn’t, and that meant she’d have to do the next best thing:

Get John the fuck away from her.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Eden’s Gate did not make a good first impression. Eden’s Gate did not even make a good second or third impression; in fact, Isolde had come to the conclusion that Joseph’s little compound was incapable of making any impression that didn’t fill the observer with a sense of despair. Every time she stepped out of the little building Jacob had set her up in, she was overwhelmed with disgust—eyes followed her, but none of them held anything beyond a dull spark of interest, nearly smothered by what seemed to have been a full-body beat down by the other cult.

The other cult, she constantly had to remind herself, because that’s what Eden’s Gate was. A cult.

A few miserable days at the hands of Montana’s coldest winter by record had her in a foul mood. The snowfall seemed inevitable, like it wouldn't ever stop, and the amount of times there had been paths shoveled between buildings—all leading to the chapel—were equally endless. Isolde couldn’t imagine coming to fucking Montana for fun, let alone for work, and yet she was somehow here for the latter and not the former. Distinctly, painfully lacking in fun.

It didn’t help that Joseph was insufferable. It didn’t help that every time he fixed his eyes on her, she felt an uncomfortable heat dripping down her spine like some kind of molten IV, like they hadn’t left on the worst of terms. Like she hadn’t told him to get the fuck out of her loft, like she hadn’t thrown an engagement ring on the floor like it was poison.

That was a time of her life that she had the distinct desire to not revisit, not even once, and yet in his presence—she found it nearly impossible to ignore. Joseph seemed to take a special, muted pleasure in making her hackles raise, and at least that hadn’t changed about him.

“Sol!”

Jacob called to her from halfway down the compound’s yard, a truck idling beside him. She stopped her trek back to her little hovel and looked at him, arms crossing over her chest.

“You wanna get out for a little?” He inclined his head toward the truck. “I’ve got some errands to run.”

“What kind of errands do the Collapse dictate?” she asked.

“The important variety.”

“Hm.”

She didn’t elaborate on that any further, and Jacob waited only one heartbeat before he reached for the driver’s side door and opened it, slowly.

“Going once—”

“I am not a child, Jacob.”

“—going twice—”

Fuck, did she want to get out.

“Fine,” Isolde snapped, “but bring that truck here. I’m not hiking through a snowdrift to get to you.”

Jacob, sounding quite pleased with himself, replied, “I thought you weren’t a child?”

He seemed moved enough by the dramatic eyeroll to oblige her, and if he found it annoying, it didn’t show; enough so, at least, that Isolde was able to clamber into the passenger side of the truck once he pulled it around, tapping the snow off of her shoes before pulling herself in.

“Thank you,” she huffed, shutting the door and rubbing her fingers to circulate the blood again. “This weather’s a bit abnormal, don’t you think?”

“Not anything out of the ordinary for this time of year, no,” Jacob replied. He nudged the windshield wipers on, plowing a thin layer of snow that had already begun to accumulate off of the window before starting to pull out of the compound. “I think you’re just not suited to the snow.”

“Could have told you that myself,” Isolde snipped. “I’m a hot-blooded creature.”

Jacob made a noise, something like an mm, a place between agreement without incriminating himself by agreeing too fervently or elaborately. She glanced over at him through the corners of her eyes as they turned onto the highway. In the comfortable silence that elapsed between them, Isolde settled back against the seat of the truck and tried to appreciate being out from the stifling dread of the compound.

It did seem to her that Joseph was markedly different than he had been, before. In the few instances in the last couple of days where he hadn’t been picking a fight with her, it almost felt normal—but of course, he was doing it in his own way, this pot-stirring, this instigating. With politeness. With kindness. By remaining completely unrattled by anything she said to him, every, any critique, so self-assured in his righteousness that not even reason could make him look twice at the state of his congregation.

Then, he had always been that way. Righteous. Assured. She had found it appealing, once—she liked a man with confidence—but now she found it—

Equal parts frustrating and attractive. Objectively, of course. Not anything that she felt herself.

“Trying to account for the bodies of the Family against the ones we know we saw before,” Jacob explained, when she had been quiet long enough to let him sort out his thoughts. “Seems like they started killing themselves, in pairs, once the two leaders were done with. I sent out a couple of scouts and they radio’d back some locations, but they’ve gone quiet for a while.”

“Dedication,” Isolde murmured, digging the nail of her thumb into her lower lip. “How dreadful.”

“The dedication, or the act?”

“Both. Imagine being so bound to something or someone.”

Jacob’s mouth twisted in a wry smile, and he brought the truck to a crawl. Two bodies, swallowed by snow nearly up to their waists, sat propped against the cliff face. He fished a pad of paper and a near-worn out pencil out of the center console of the truck and held them out to her.

“Mark it down, Sol.” When she blinked at him, he continued, “What, you thought you were gonna get out and not help me?”

“Well, I was hoping.”

She sighed, taking the pad and pencil—a glorified secretary is what I am, she thought bitterly—and marked two tally marks down. From where the car was stopped, she could see that the arms of the corpses came together, and though it was buried in snow, she had to think that beneath the white frost their hands were intertwined.

They went like that for a while; Jacob would drive to a spot, have her mark down the amount of bodies, and then go on. By the time they had reached Fall’s End, Isolde had counted nearly twenty dead bodies. As they rolled into the far end of town, Isolde realized very quickly that most of the buildings were blackened, and when she rolled down her window, the stale scent of charcoal still sat in the air.

“What happened here?” she asked, grimacing and scrunching up her nose.

“Dunno,” Jacob replied tightly. “Someone with an agenda.”

Isolde’s gaze snapped to him, to try and wring any information out of his expression, but true to his nature Jacob remained completely unreadable. It wasn’t until they had gotten to what appeared to have once been a bar and tallied up the bodies there that Jacob threw the truck into park.

“What in the fuck?” he muttered, eyes fixed forward. When Sol followed his gaze, she realized that it was fixed on someone—someone running towards them, frantically, nearly falling over themselves in the snow.

“Is that one of yours?” she asked. “Jacob?”

“Shh.”

He had busied himself fishing around in the back seat, and as he did Isolde squinted, trying to get a better look at what was going on. The man running definitely had to be Eden’s Gate—he had the big red emblem on his shirt, but he wasn’t wearing any coat, and—

And there were others.

“Jacob,” Isolde said, “there are more.”

“What?”

“Bodies,” she managed out, “there are more bodies.”

The snow wasn’t so deep on the roads that she couldn’t see the width of a body, and she did—see it, that is, tousled dark locks reflecting wet and sticky in the overcast, late-afternoon light. The man running was waving his arms and yelling for help, and then he fell over one of the bodies, fell to his hands and knees over the body of someone else, and made a sound kind of like anguish.

Jacob finally managed to pull out what he’d been looking for—a pair of binoculars—and immediately lifted them to his face.

“Shit,” he said. “Fuck, they’re ours.”

“All of them?” Isolde demanded. “They’re all—”

“Yes,” he bit out, opening the driver’s door and grabbing the rifle from the back seat. “They’re all ours. Isolde, stay in—”

Jacob’s words were cut off by the violent crack of a gunshot. For a split second, Isolde saw nothing; in the space between heartbeats, sluggish from panic, she saw the arterial spray coming from the back of the running man’s body before he hit the ground, screaming.

He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead, he was still crawling, dragging himself through the snow, leaving a smear of red behind him, and that’s when Isolde saw them.

Jacob had stopped moving as well. The person at the far end of the main road leading through Fall’s End had yet to shoulder their weapon. From here, Isolde could see that she was tall—short-cropped, blonde hair, swathed in dark clothes, but beyond that the features were near impossible to make out.

“Close the door,” Isolde hissed, not moving, her instincts screaming to duck but the fear that sudden movement would draw attention prevailing. “Jacob, close the fucking door.”

The eerily satisfying click-click of what could only be the bolt-action rifle in the hunter’s hands clattered around in her head. The rifle was returned to their shoulders, brought up level, and then fired again.

Out of pure instinct, Isolde flinched—but once again, the bullet was aimed not at them, but at the man already crawling in the snow. The sound of the gunshot, and the subsequent bullet-on-bone impact, was enough to make her stomach churn; now, at least, the man lay slumped in the snow, one of the many bodies that seemed to have been the unfortunate pull-and-fire clay birds for the stranger.

“Who,” Isolde whispered furiously, as Jacob carefully put the truck into drive without letting it move forward at all first, “Jacob, who the fuck is that?”

The redhead’s expression was unforgivingly tight, pulling taut with it the scars and mottling of his skin visible outside of his beard. He wasn’t looking at her, but rather kept his eyes fixed forward, as he closed the driver’s side door.

“Fifteen men,” he ground out between his teeth, “that’s fifteen fucking men I sent out here to figure out the body count.”

The stranger finally lowered their rifle, apparently satisfied with their work. This far away, it was hard to tell, but Isolde got the distinct impression that they were being watched, looked at now, where before the attention had been elsewhere.

And then it was confirmed, because the stranger lifted one gloved hand and pressed her index and middle fingers right against the hollows of her jaw. A snakebite. A cut right to the carotid. A message.

Jacob cranked the wheel, the tires shrieking in protest against the snow as he pulled between buildings in a sudden rush of acceleration. The stranger was quickly cut out, stifled by the side of the used-to-be-bar, leaving them out of direct range of a sniper rifle. Not that her companion seemed that pleased about it, anyway.

“Fuck,” he bit out, seething as he tried to navigate the narrow space in the clumsy Eden’s Gate truck. “Fuck, did you count how many bodies were on the ground?”

“Hm, no!” Isolde snapped viciously. “I was a bit too busy trying to make sure they were going to shoot us!”

Jacob gritted out another string of swears between his teeth, turning the truck until he could take what looked to be a back alley in the opposite direction of their little hunter. He checked the rearview mirror frequently; his expression was set in a deep frown, and he only looked at her once before continuing his regular scanning of the road behind them.

“Well, aren’t you going to turn around?” she demanded.

“For what?” Jacob replied flatly. “I’ve got a hunting rifle, not my HTI.”

“I don’t know what that means, and I don’t care,” Isolde bit out.

“It means, the chances of me getting shot before I get a shot on them are significantly lower,” he told her, his knuckles whitening along the steering wheel, “and as confident as I am that I could kill them before they killed me, I’m not confident they wouldn’t take a shot at you first.”

Isolde’s stomach rolled. It wasn’t the violence that bothered her—it wasn’t the death, or the guns, or even the blood—but the message itself. The Stranger had been hunting the Eden’s Gate men and women for sport. For fun. To pass the time, while they waited. But what for? What could they be waiting for?

She stayed quiet, listening to Jacob radio back to the compound quick, short orders that flew right over her head. She couldn’t stop thinking about it—the gesture. The stranger. Who were they? The remainder of the other cult, perhaps? What were they waiting for?

You’re next, that two-fingered, snake-bite-right-to-the-carotid gesture had said.

You’re next, and I’m coming for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sylvia did not seem that impressed with John Seed, and Elliot could not blame her.

John was exceptionally charming. So charming, in fact, that he and Wyatt seemed to get along smashingly. It was almost frustrating, how quick the blonde took to John—but then, Wyatt did strike as the type of man who got along with everybody until they gave him a reason to think otherwise. After all, he’d been kind to her, and she was...

Needless to say, Sylvia was a harder sell, which was nice. Reassuring. It made Elliot feel more grounded, to see Sylvia politely smile at John’s chatter—she’d nearly forgotten how much he liked to talk—but then decidedly turn to Elliot to ask her about something or dive into a different conversation. It was pointed, and if the way John watched them interact was any indication, the message of it was not lost on him.

By the time the evening had drawn to a close, for her and John at least, the brunette had departed to go warm-up the Jeep and left her standing by the doorway, keeping warm, with Sylvia.

“You sure you’re doin’ okay?” the blonde asked after a moment, propped up against the wall in the tiny little doorway that led out to the main street. “You look tired. Stressed out. I was worried when we didn’t hear from you this morning, about comin’ to the barn.”

Elliot felt a little pang of guilt digging in, just there below her sternum. “I’m okay,” she promised. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, I—had a doctor’s appointment this morning that I completely forgot about until my mama reminded me, and John showed up this morning too, so it’s just been...”

“A crazy day,” Via agreed, her nose crinkling cutely in amusement. “He’s a funny fella, that John of yours.”

Oh, if only you knew. “I think so, too.”

“What is he?” she asked, conversationally. “Maybe a—car salesman?”

Her friend’s playful jab was enough to elicit a laugh, billowing out of her and catching even herself by surprise. But then, she shouldn’t have been shocked to find that Sylvia had gotten a quick read on John. Given the way she’d quickly diverted from the attention on Elliot’s scar and carried on, she thought maybe Via was more perceptive than she liked to let on.

“Lawyer,” Ell replied, and Via winced comically.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I mean—Elli,” Via intoned playfully, “he might as well be sellin’ you snake oil when he’s a lawyer.”

Elliot sighed ruefully, glancing out the window to see John clambering out of the front of the jeep. Snake oil seemed a light judgment for him, all things considered.

“Hey, Via,” she began, swallowing a little, “if I tell you something, you’ve gotta promise you won’t say anything?”

Via regarded her curiously, head tilted. “Okay, sure, Freckles. What’s up?”

She shifted on her feet. “John and I are actually, um—” Elliot paused, swallowing thickly. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to, because saying it out loud—her, and not John—made it real. Gave it legs. Forced her to face what had happened and what she couldn’t change yet.

“You don’t have to,” Via told her gently. “I could tell there was somethin’—you know, out of sorts. You don’t get a slick-talkin’ lawyer grinnin’ like the cat what ate the canary if he hasn’t done somethin’ to piss a woman off.”

Elliot shook her head. “We’re actually, uh,” she tried again, pulling at a loose thread on her shirt, “m—married.”

Saying the word out loud didn’t feel as wretched as she thought it would, which was almost three times as concerning. She felt, instead, more dread waiting for Sylvia’s reaction—waiting to see what her one friend had to say or think about that.

The woman’s face screwed up comedically. “Oh, Freckles,” she said, her tone teasing. “Say it ain’t so.”

“I’m not kidding!” Elliot felt a nervous little laugh bubble out of her. “I mean—what, Via? You clearly have an opinion on him.”

“I don’t know the man from Jack walkin’ down the street,” Sylvia demurred. “I just think...well, I just think you’re a real peach, you know? And you didn’t seem too pleased to have this John walkin’ around, and I take that kind of thing seriously.”

Sighing, Elliot scuffed her shoe against the ground, watching John pick his way through the crowd back down the street.

“We left on—bad terms, sort of,” she explained. “He showed up to make amends.”

“Do you want to make amends?”

The question caught her off-guard. It was an obvious one—obvious in that, it should have been one of the first things anyone asked her regarding John, even John himself, and yet: no one had. Not a single person had asked her if she wanted to suffer through making amends with the man who had lied to her, violated her trust, and still somehow managed to be the one person she didn’t have to fear seeing the worst, ugliest parts of her.

“I don’t know,” Elliot said after a moment, clearing her throat. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then I will reserve judgment,” Sylvia replied firmly, “so you can make a decision on your own.”

The door to the street opened, bringing with it not only a waft of chilly wind, but John himself and the scent of his viciously-expensive cologne. It took every ounce of Elliot’s self-control not to burst into laughter at the absurdity of it—John Seed, charisma-extraordinaire, somehow managing to make poor first impressions both on her mother and her friend.

“Car’s all warmed up,” John announced, rubbing his hands together. He glanced between the two women, the corner of his mouth ticking upward. “What’s so funny, hm?”

“Nothing,” Elliot replied. “Just talking about you.”

This piqued his interest. He said, “Good things, I hope,” and she could see it on his face—the painful reminder of the way John had craved Joseph’s approval, the way he’d lit up like a nuclear mushroom cloud the second Joseph deigned to say anything remotely kind to him.

“Jury’s still out,” Sylvia said lightly, and then flashed a pretty smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “But don’t worry bud! We’ll get you there eventually.”

John tried very hard to feign polite laughter, but the uneasiness bled through readily—and it was a little satisfying, to see John squirm, to see him out of his element, no longer surrounded by a constant chorus of Yes hitting his dopamine centers nonstop. No wonder the man had a conniption anytime someone dared to dislike him.

“Better get this lady home, she looks like she’s about to fall asleep standing,” Sylvia announced, reaching and giving Elliot a gentle hug. “Night, Freckles.”

“Goodnight.”

John and Sylvia bid each other a pleasant goodbye as Elliot stepped out onto the street, careful to avoid icier parts of the concrete as she made her way to the car. Her brain felt fuzzy—a lot of socializing, a lot of time spent trying not to let John get to her. It had been long enough since she’d had to hold her walls up for so long that she felt exhausted from doing it, even for this long.

Maybe that was his strategy. Wear her down, then swoop in, just like last time.

“Did you have fun?” John asked, and she realized that she was at the car, having climbed into the passenger seat already. He closed the driver’s side door, settling in before carefully beginning to back out of the parking spot.

“I mean, having you loom over my shoulder the entire night was a little odd.”

He made an affronted sound. “I was not looming.”

“You were,” Elliot told him, “a little.” She paused, feeling the exhaustion pulling at the edges of her vision, begging for her to close her eyes—but she couldn’t. Not in the car, not with John driving. If she did, he might just keep driving and not turn back around. “It’s funny—”

“My quote-unquote looming?”

“How much different you are,” she finished, “when you’re not around Joseph.”

John was clearly trying very hard not to look like he was stiffening at her words. Gotcha, she thought, with a little pinprick of pride. Yeah, I didn’t forget. I didn’t forget how much you hated it when I brought him up.

“I don’t know what you mean,” John replied, keeping his voice light. “I’m exactly the way I’ve always been.”

“You haven’t tried to drown me a single time.”

“That time was a miscommunication,” he insisted. “I wasn’t trying to drown you. Just—coerce you. And besides, that’s behind us now. I know you, Elliot Honeysett, intimately, which means such forms of brute persuasion aren’t required.” He paused. “It’s much better when you indulge me willingly, anyway.”

Elliot’s nose crinkled. “You sound fucking nuts when you say that. ‘That one time I thought about drowning you was just a miscommunication’. No wonder Sylvia doesn’t like you.”

“So she told you? That she doesn’t like me?”

He paused for a moment, his gaze flickering over to her, and when he saw the very subtle upturn of her mouth he exhaled out of his nose.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Not necessarily. But if I was—it would be the least you deserve.”

He was different, out from the insane pressure of the cult, out from under Joseph’s thumb. It was like, given room to breathe, he was suddenly relearning what it was like to make his own decision—to exist outside of Joseph. Back in Hope County, John had been fervent in his belief that he owed Joseph everything. Maybe the distance had done him some good.

Don’t, something inside of her insisted viciously, as she turned her attention out to the side of the road where the headlights illuminated snowdrift after snowdrift. Don’t get soft on him. That’s how he got you last time, you know. Don’t let it happen again.

But if he wanted to press the issue about Sylvia—or about her comment concerning Joseph—John seemed to exercise a remarkable amount of self-control and instead focused on driving. In the quiet, without him chattering on about doing things for them or how much he missed our banter, it was almost...Comfortable.

“Finding out the gender,” Elliot said after a moment, the exhaustion now settling like a deep chill in her bones. “Of the baby, I mean. At the next appointment.”

The brunette shifted in his seat. In an attempt at nonchalance, he said, “Oh, yeah?”

What am I doing? she thought. He plays nice for one night. He’s good at that. Short-term goodness.

“I’m nervous,” she added after a moment. “About finding out.”

“Not excited?” John tilted his head.

“No,” she admitted. “Nervous.”

Ahead of them, she saw the dark blur of a figure. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. John was saying something—something about how he’d read a number of books and it was normal to feel nervous, or some other kind of psycho babble—but she shifted forward in her seat, eyes straining to see.

“Slow down,” she said, “I think there’s a dog...?”

“What?” John asked. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

“Just up ahead. Have you not been paying attention to the road?”

He made an indignant sound—“I am the best driver between the two of us, you know,”—but before Elliot could think up a response, the dark, furred creature slowed down ahead of them, stopped in the middle of the road, and turned its head.

The headlights caught it immediately. It was a dog, four-legged and large and shaggy black fur, but when it turned its head, it was a man’s face, the mouth slung open and the gently-rounded teeth of a human’s mouth blaring white in the headlights. Something dark and slick oozed between the teeth, in that split second, she watched the dog-human-creature push off from the ground and stand on its two hind legs.

She screamed, and John swerved, and immediately threw the car into park and slammed his hand on the hazard lights button.

It was dread, pure dread and fear, sending a pulse of adrenaline straight to her brain. Bent over at the waist, Elliot closed her eyes tight, trying to will the image out of her head, out from behind her irises. John had quickly unbuckled and reached over, his hands doing the same to hers.

“Elliot,” he said urgently, fingers pushing the hair back from her face. “Ell, take a breath, come on—sit up, you have to take a breath—”

“Is—is it gone?” she asked, but the words came out closer to a wail, the fear spiking viciously in the timbre of her voice. Please, God, what the fuck, please let it be gone. God, oh fuck, what the fuck what the fuck— “The—the—”

“There’s nothing—?” John stopped. Elliot frantically scrabbled at the high neck of her parka, fingers shaking and clumsy. “Ell—”

“Can’t breathe,” she managed out. “Too hot, can’t—”

The brunette reached over the console and stilled her hands. She was still bent at the waist, but he made do, pulling the zipper of the parka down until she could pull her arms from it; once it had been deposited in the back seat, his hand went to the back of her neck.

She sat up slowly, her eyes immediately making a frantic search of the road. There was nothing. Only quiet snowfall.

“Where—” She paused, swallowing thickly. “Where did it go?”

“Ell,” John murmured, “there wasn’t anything in the road.”

“What do you mean?” she moaned. “I saw it, the—I saw the—”

“You saw...?” he prompted. His thumb swept across the back of her neck, coaxing.

“The dog,” she insisted. “It was a dog, but it had—it’s face was—it was a man’s face, and it f-fucking—it fucking stood up, John!”

He was watching her carefully, his gaze searching her face for a long moment. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t see anything,” he told her. “Just that you—you just screamed, so I pulled over.”

“I’m not crazy,” Elliot bit out, her voice wobbling.

“I know,” John replied plainly. “Maybe it was just—you know. The snow. In front of the headlights.” And then: “Have you really been getting enough sleep, Ell?”

She felt her lip tremble, the desire to cry almost overwhelming. She couldn’t stand it—couldn’t stand John being tender to her, worrying about her, questioning the validity of her saying that she had been sleeping fine because he could see that she couldn’t. He was wretched and wicked and it needed to stay that way.

“Please take me home,” she said finally, re-buckling and rolling the window down to let the cold air on her face. “Please just take me home.”

John waited for a few heartbeats before he turned the hazard lights off and put the Jeep in drive.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he told her after a moment, glancing at her a few times. “I mean it, Ell.”

“Fuck you,” she replied, exhausted and feeling furiously wound up. “Just take me home.”

Get some sleep.

Feel better in the morning.

[steve0discusses]

The Full Metal Alchemist Live Action Movie Part 8: Watch This Episode Covered in Butts be the Only One Not Flagged by Tumblr

Gonna be risky business and not only upload all of these caps the way I screenshot them--which has just SO MANY poorly CGI’d butts but also gonna do it on the Tumblr Drafts folder, which I have been assured works now.

I’m so worried about so many things, but considering all the fears I have about like...everything else in the world right now...I guess I’ll take a risk on tumblr.

Edit: I cannot believe that I had 8ish episodes of Kaiba’s tall dueling tower get flagged but not this movie. I just....wow I cannot.

So anyway, last we left off, General Hakuro stepped in and was like “Hi guys, you like my wily plans that no one in their right mind would have ever guessed???”

Yo remember this part of the anime? Where the bodies drop from the ceiling and it’s a hunk out of the final arc--it’s here. In this movie. This movie that can’t possibly afford to do that. Lets get some CGI animated bodies in here ASAP.

(see some texture regrets under the cut)

It’s like a Monet, as the Mean Girls say, because far away and shrinked to 500 pixels this looks kinda neat. They sort of look more like those slime ball that grow in the back of your throat rather than human bodies, but they still look pretty gross hanging up there.

But then.....we zoom in. Remember again that this was full screen on my computer, and at one point was on a freakin movie screen. This level of 3d...was on a movie theater screen.

The mind boggles. The mind boggles!

Like as you know, I am an artist, and I’ve dabbled in...basically everything in my pursuit to make a dollar...and I have taken about 2 years of classes in 3D art with Maya and all those. I’m not thaaat great at it--I’m much more an illustrator/painter--but I feel like I have that reference point. Can I just say--the model is...fine...you can do a lot with layers of bump maps so you don’t need a truly detailed model (not like they did that, because they didn’t do that, but I can figure that maybe they had an intention to do that and forgot?)

But, there’s no connection of the wires to bodies. They just kinda float? The bodies are also all the same shiny-ness? To the point that it looks like a copy paste? (I don’t think it is, the wires are slightly different on a few of them) There’s just not much in the way of a texture map or a bump map. It just...there’s also something missing from the skin.

Skin is actually kind of rough to render, so when I did it back in the day, I followed like a checklist to make sure I had all the layers and steps to make someone look...clammy. Some things are kinda translucent, they reflect light a different way...especially white skin like this wouldn’t be just...white like putty. Dunno if you ever saw a white person, but we got so many veins...there was so much potential to make something really gross and fleshy.

Instead we got silly putty. It’s fine. I’m fine.

So General Hakuro decides to just...kill everyone right now.

This makes no sense to me.

That means that the whole thing of Lust killing Hughes was completely unrelated to General Hakuro. All Hakuro needed was Shou Tucker, who has been in prison for...I assume months since Ed shipped him off. And Shou was only released today? Just now? Just now when Hughes was shot?

So this all just happened at the same time by accident?

I mean the General sent us to the wrong lab initially, so he didn’t actually want us to be here, and now that we are here, he’s going to set off an entire army as a reaction to three people walking in and going “oops”?

So, lets get a look at our army.

Oh it was so disappointing, this reveal. Not just the eyeball that has a bounce light coming from below the top lip there (how did that even happen???) but also when it opened it’s mouth, it had a flat animation of skin breaking--it wasn’t actually rendered 3d skin, it was like a jpg wrapped around it or something (or at least that was the illusion I got. That is fine for a video game or a TV show, but this is a movie. This is shot so that it can be displayed in a size bigger than your own house.

What happened to the animation team on this one? Not saying I can do better, cuz no, I can’t, that 3d chapter in my life was a while back, but I’m just one guy. This was an entire animation studio and they just...didn’t render 3d face ripping (which is their entire job, to work in 3d) and then they kinda just turned on the stock physics dynamics and dropped em instead of animating them.

The way they fell was like fish from a bucket--the same amount of speed, too. they all ragdolled like a 3D shooter, their rigs just hanging on for dear life (and yes, you could see the deforming happen on the joints of these models.) I’m fine with having a computer program render something out with a physics engine...but there is a balance.

You do have to still go in there and finangle it back because...real life is hella stupid. Real physics? So stupid. It was hilarious how nonthreatening it was, too because they’re like...the size of shrimps in that zoom out image. The scale is just so wild!

It was like one bored guy in a sound booth and they multiplied his voice three times. Golden. Absolutely golden.

So these guys stride over, all of them with the same amount of speed (leading me to think it was probably a recorded walk cycle they all share with slight alterations between all of em) and they kinda just...pile on eachother in a weird way.

I will give them this: I was happy to see something that wasn’t physics or procedural. They mo-capped and animated that part for sure. It had the touch of an artist’s hand. It was also a very funny way for Hakuro to die because this guy was on screen for like 5 minutes, and maybe 7 minutes of this whole movie.

Youknow...I think it really says a lot about your nude 3d models if they’re not disturbingly human enough to trigger the tumblr filter, youknow?

Anyway, Envy looks on.

And then Gluttony saves the city.

Meanwhile, they decide to bust out the fire effects and Mustang becomes the most useful person in this entire movie. Like honestly this movie was poorly named, because it should have just been “Mustang saves the FullMetal Alchemist’s Entire Ass.”

The next part seems like I forgot a cap, or maybe missed something. I swear to you, I did not.

First off, Al becomes fullmetal and makes this happen without an alchemy circle. The show doesn’t really care to talk about that though, it’s just a thing he can do now, and you’d only notice it if you were writing a Tumblr post about it.

I swear to you, Winry is just inside of Al and there is no explanation.

There is no explanation for this.

She was on the couch...why is she not on the couch? What?

And then when you think they might have a moment, Ed’s like.

Damn.

For reals what the hell was that entire scene except for a way for Ed to get his arm stitched back on in like 2 minutes?

Outside, Envy and Lust are just strolling around the back-alley of this red brick building we have seen used for this entire movie.

And like...it’s so funny to me because they weren’t trying to run or hide. It makes complete sense why they got shot. This is what happens when you just...walk away when the whole military guard wants to kill you.

Now lets go see how Hawkeye is faring.

Luckily, all of the ambling bodies have decided to walk slowly through this one weird grass section between extremely long buildings.

And Hawkeye tells everyone “You have to shoot their heads off” and I want you to look at that scene and tell me how many of those bodies still have heads.

Oh, all of them. Don’t worry about it.

Kinda hard to see, but Ed shows up to give Mustang a hand, which was fully unnecessary but we’ll get to that in a bit.

This movie is such a gem.

Ed goes big brain and realizes that Envy is still burned up, and thus is about to pass on.

And whatever, I’ll take it. It’s not like the movie has told us that they are made out of 1000000 lives, for all we know, in the movie universe, they really are only 4 lives. Like half a cat. Maybe Father only killed half a cat instead of an entire city.

Yugi Muto would be so freakin proud of Envy for how often this guy gets hit square in the chest with fire balls. It’s basically every scene where Envy and Mustang share screen time.

And don’t worry, I don’t think Envy died? But they sure made it look like he did, which I’m sure everyone everywhere was really happy to see, since Envy’s death was one of the climaxes of the whole series. Like people used to make these lists of “top 10 saddest anime deaths” and how many people had Envy on there? Like everyone? People freakin love Envy and they did him so much dirty in this movie.

Again I have no explanation for Winry.

So Mustang is like, Ed, you make sure Winry doesn’t biff it in that corner, and I’ll do my actual job over here on this side. And yo, he did.

And so then that’s it, Lust is dead, and now we have a Sorcerer’s stone.

Man it looks delicious, right?

I’d eat the hell out of that.

Anyway, we only have one more update and we’re done with this movie!

I know!

I know! They only have 10-15 minutes to resolve pretty much everything, and that’s assuming that the credits don’t take up a heap of that. Hell, I might only have 3 caps next episode if that’s all credits. I honestly don’t remember.

Anyway, hope y’all take it easy this February, here is a link for people who just got here to read these FMA recaps in Chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/fma/chrono

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Space Chapter 5

Happy Ace Week Y’all!!!!!!! 

Ok I am so Excited for this part (I hadn’t planned for it to be during ace week but it actually works perfect!)

Roman is finally getting to go to the support group he told Butch about! I put a reminder of what Butch looks like because I’m also introducing a new character, Hannah, her reference photo is below (one of my real-life model friends, she’s cool:) as well.  Tags: @sunshinepascal​ @rentskenobi​ @maybege​ @obaby-wan​ @princessxkenobi​

I’m going outside to muck about with my lightsaber again, I’ll add the links to the previous chapters tonight :D Enjoy and thanks for reading!!!

Warning for excessive cuteness y’all this gets adorable 

 (Roman at the support group at the local library, brought Butcher along, 2 months dating)

Roman is absolutely certain it’s been years since he sat in the passenger seat. Thankfully, it isn’t Butch’s first time in years driving or he’d be thrilled to get out of the car. As it stands, they’ve been sitting in the parking lot of the local community center (its adjoined to the library) for three minutes and neither of them have moved. It won’t make them late, they got here 26 minutes early out of a panic induced need to be over-prepared, but it doesn’t make the silence any less awkward. Butch had insisted they would look even more out of place in the suits they’re both used to wearing so they’ve somehow ended up in jeans (again) and t-shirts (Butch added a flannel but Roman is convinced it’s to hide his side-arm and not to ward off any chill, the rolling of the sleeves further cements this thought). Roman settled for a band t-shirt that Erica had bought him though he’s never heard their music, and he has a leather jacket but he’s somehow convinced it’ll look like he’s trying too hard if he puts it on.

“It’ll be cold in there boss. Always is” Butch says helpfully, as if he knew the struggle of the other man, though his eyes haven’t left the window since they arrived.

“Yes. Well.” Roman starts, unsure where exactly this sentence is going “I’m, glad, you came along.”

Butch huffs out a laugh, “Well, Ms. Erica is a good one, so if you coming around here helps keep her around, I’ll be along as long as you want me” He finishes smiling at Roman and Roman is certain that he’ll never find anyone as good as Butch as long as he lives, no matter the standard of measure.

“We better get in there.” Butch speaks again helpfully.

“No, no,” Roman starts “best wait till 45, any sooner we might be the first one’s here, and I’d like to avoid that.” Butch shrugs again, conceding the point. He supposes they’ll be facing this either way, sooner or later.

When they do make it in, Roman walks to the desk with every intention of finding out from the librarian where he should be. He’s put on his business air, he can feel it, and it’s a nice change from the panic of the parking lot. He starts in a low tone to avoid startling her “Ma’am?”

Her eyes shoot up and then to his right where no doubt butch is looming, she swallows, then smiles and looks back to Roman. “Yes? Can I help you?”

Choosing to ignore the obvious glance that was directed to Butch (he has every intention of inquiring further into that during the car ride home) he pushes on. “Could you tell us where to find the, well, the support group for Asexuals?” He has to take a breath in-between but decides to be brave about it, using the full title instead of ‘aces’ reminding himself that this is for Erica. Her eyes widen slightly, then flit between the two of them and Roman realizes in a moment how they must look and decides there isn’t anything for it other than to grin and bear it.

“Oh,” she starts, and sounds, almost disappointed? “Yes, down the hall and the room on the right. They should be starting soon.” She indicates with a (rather long) manicured fingernail.

He nods then, giving her a small smile, and starts down the hallway, only getting a few steps in before realizing Butch isn’t following and he hears a small “what’s your name?” from the large man as he turns. The sight shouldn’t be shocking, Butch is a grown man after all, and fully allowed to find people that interest him but he’s become so soft in the moment; leaning over the desk to look deeply into the eyes of the librarian who is now looking short of breath.

“Hannah.” She manages to gasp out and Butch smiles kindly, “I’m Butcher, but I go by Butch pretty often”. He seems to have gotten nervous halfway through and is looking at his feet, but she’s smiling and reaching to cover his laced fingers that are on the desk. “That’s lovely” She says, smiling like Butch was a bouquet of flowers. Butch looks up, slightly shocked, looking at their hands (his dwarf her own to a ridiculous extent Roman notes) before looking back up to her eyes.

“Not as much as you are”

It’s the final nail in the coffin before they both start giggling and Roman is absolutely certain he’s never seen anything so adorable (even as he goes to a support group in order to better understand his girlfriend). Butch stops laughing before she does, pausing to appreciate her (Roman knows that’s what the look on his face is, he looks at Erica like that all the time now himself) before he watches Butch tell her he better get on now. Roman has the decency to act as though he were extremely interested in the shelves to his left- away from them- before he’s rejoined by a Butch who has the softest grin he’s ever seen on his face. As they walk down the hall Roman decides to leave the whole thing till they’re in the car again, if the dopey smile is anything to go by, he won’t be getting much from Butch anyway. He takes a deep breath at the reminder of what they’re both walking into, ignoring the urge to feel ridiculous, and brings out his phone to open the notes app before sliding it into his pocket again. They walk through the door, Butch first, he’d insisted on the drive over that he was still Roman’s bodyguard and would act as such, and find a group of about 15 milling around the room quietly, cake and bottles of water sitting on a table on the far end of the room. Beyond that (and Roman has to suppress the urge to sigh audibly) is a circle of chairs. They’re approached by a smaller blond boy, who greets them with an energy filled “Hello! Are you here for the support group for aces?” he pushes the large rimmed black glasses he wears further up his face as he looks between them and Roman exchanges a glance with Butch before answering

“Yes, is um, is there a protocol to this?”

He blames his nerves for the formality of his response, but the boy seems too thrilled with his presence to be bothered.

“Not at all! We all grab a snack, because cake am I right? And then head to the circle, though, to be honest, most of us couldn’t sit in a chair to save our life.”

Despite his confusion at what he’s sure is a joke the boy is assuming he’s in on, he nods. “We’ll just, help ourselves then.”

The boy nods back at him before freezing and exclaiming “Oh God! I forgot!” his hand shoots out and Roman knows Butcher is already having a conniption at the outburst before the boy finishes “I’m Tom! Jenny says it’s important to tell people my name when I meet them”. His eyes flit behind him as he mentions the other name and a similar looking woman, an older sibling maybe, Roman thinks, smiles affectionately. Roman nods to her then, before bringing his eyes back to the boy, shaking his hand with a “I’m Roman, and this is Butch”. He doesn’t think he needs to add more but the boy’s brow seems to furrow as he shakes Butch’s hand.

“Do, um, are you both Ace?” It’s a timid question but Roman can tell the boy means well, he can also however see the woman, Jenny his mind supplies, making her way over to them quickly.

“I’m so sorry” she says, barely reaching them before apologizing “Tom hasn’t quite learned yet that not everyone wants to say” her hands find the boys shoulders and he turns with a protest “Jenny! I’m almost 22! I’m not a child!”

“Have you said hello to Marie yet?” She changes the subject “I think she brough cookies today”

Almost immediately the boy lights up and is off to explore the new person. Jenny’s eyes go back to Roman, “I’m sorry, he’s on the autism spectrum, I’m still working with him about filters”.

It’s Butch that cuts in this time “It’s alright, I had a sister who was too, I’ll keep him company”. He walks to the snack table then, leaving a stunned Roman alone with Jenny. As long as he’s known Butcher, he never knew he had a sister, let alone one on the spectrum. He makes a mental note to ask Butcher about that on the car ride too. He turns back to Jenny then and manages a smile.

“I’m uh, well, neither one of us is ace” he sees tension begin to fill her body at that so he rushes on “but my girlfriend is and, I want to better understand the whole thing. Butch is here for moral support.” He jerks his head to indicate the other man in case she hadn’t heard the name and hopes for the best. She does seem to relax at that, eyeing him gently “That’s sweet. Of both of you.” It’s said kindly, and somehow, Roman is already feeling more comfortable about this.

He stays a little longer after they finish to ‘confirm next week with jenny’ give Butch time to get a phone number from his librarian and tells Butch he’ll meet him at the car.

**********************************

Chapter 4 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Chapter 1

[dorkylittleweirdo]

Just One Night (part 9)

Here’s the next part ^-^ I’m sorry the last few chapters have been pretty short, I’ll try to make the next one longer. Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy this, lowkey it was a Little awkward/hard to write, but I hope it’s still good enough jasgfksahfsj

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8

Gaius x MC, don’t like, don’t read

Light filtered through the window, just enough that you could comfortably read in the living room. You were curled up on the couch, a book in your lap. You glanced up upon seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, your gaze falling on Gaius. “Hey,” you greeted, smiling at him.

Gaius looked startled for a moment, whipping his head to meet your gaze. He forced a halfhearted smile, watching as you raised a brow. “What?” He questioned, matching your expression.

“You okay?” Your voice was laced with worry. Your eyes searched his, and you noted that they were glazed over and unfocused. He looked miserable.

He nodded. “Fine,” he answered shortly, which earned a disbelieving look from you. “Just thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?” You inquired, tilting your head with a slight frown as you set your book down. Based on the expression he was wearing alone, it couldn’t be anything pleasant.

Gaius was silent for a moment, hesitant to reveal the thoughts swarming through his mind. He met your gaze anxiously, guilt eating away at him when he saw the concern your eyes held. He let out a sigh. “...Rheya,” he admitted quietly, looking away from you.

Your body tensed at the mere mention of her name. You nodded slowly and sat up, trying to understand why he would be thinking about her. You reached no conclusion, only succeeding at forming more questions. “What about her?” You finally asked.

Gaius sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t want to tell you. He had been carrying this with him since he regained control over his mind, and he never wanted anyone finding out about it. But he couldn’t lie to you, not about this. “I- I miss her,” he said. His heart was hammering in his chest, waiting for your reaction.

His confession made your blood run cold. You couldn’t grasp why or how he could possibly miss someone as vile as Rheya. “Why..?” That one word was all you could manage. You were so desperate to understand, yet you knew you would never be able to.

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I loved her,” he whispered, unable to make his voice any louder. “I know she never loved me, I know she did horrible things. But when things were good? They were really good. It didn’t matter what she’d done to me before that, or even what she’d do after. She made it so easy to just.. forget. Forget about everything else except for that moment. She didn’t even have to repress those memories, I just.. Didn’t care.”

Your heart broke for him. This man had been through hell and back, and you couldn’t imagine how much he must have suffered before you met him. “Do you-” you took a breath before continuing, “do you still love her?” As soon as the question had left your lips, you felt a pang of regret.

Gaius thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No,” he denied, sorrow in his eyes. “I don’t love her, not anymore. I just.. miss her. Maybe not her, maybe just how it felt to be with her. Because- because I deserved it. To be treated that way. After everything I’ve done, I deserve much worse.”

You were horrified by his response. You took a tentative step towards him and reached a hand out, stopping in your tracks when he recoiled before you even got near him. You pulled your hand back, trying to figure out how to proceed. “You didn’t deserve any of it,” you told him, shaking your head. “Whatever she did to you, you didn’t deserve it.”

“Yes, I did!” He snapped, tears pooling in his eyes as he finally met your eyes again, his breathing slightly ragged. “I could’ve stopped it, and I didn’t. It was.. my fault. All of it. It was all my fault…”

“Gaius…” You approached him again, your eyes still locked on his. What could you say to this man? The broken look in his eyes was almost too much for you to bear, and your heart shattered when a tear rolled down his face. You slowly reached out a hand to brush it away, but Gaius pushed your hand away and took a step back.

“Don’t touch me!” He yelped, tears cascading down his cheeks. “I’m a monster, I don’t- I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve your love.” Gaius wanted nothing more than to hold you tight and forget about this whole mess, but it was far too late now. He couldn’t fathom why you chose to stay with him after everything, and even though he was grateful you had, he couldn’t help but wonder when you would leave him. Just as everyone else had. He shrunk to the ground onto his knees, covering his face with his hands before slowly dragging his fingers into his hair, gripping it at the roots, sobs escaping his lips. This was the last thing he wanted, to cry in front of you like this, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He was at his limit.

You crouched down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he didn’t push you away again, you gave it a soft, comforting squeeze. After a moment, you slid your arm around his shoulders, carefully pulling him in for a hug. You felt him immediately lean against you, his trembling body melting into your arms. “You’re okay, I’ve got you,” you assured him, resting your chin on the top of his head.

Gaius slowly began to calm down as you whispered reassurances to him, your hand rubbing his upper arm soothingly. “Why?” He managed to choke out, clinging to you. He buried his face into your chest, sniffling pitifully. “I’m only going to hurt you. I- I can’t-”

“You won’t hurt me,” you said, stroking his hair. “I’m staying right here, and I’m never leaving. I’ll be by your side no matter what.”

"Tell me you hate me," he begged, a note of desperation in his voice. "Please, before this goes too far. Just- just say you hate me." He couldn't handle the fact that he might one day hurt you, or you hurt him, and he needed you as far away as possible.

"Why would I ever do that?" You asked gently, moving your hand to rub his back. "I love you. Nothing is going to change that."

Gaius choked back another sob. How had he been so fortunate as to have you in his life? How was it that you were able to love every broken, splintered piece of him? He wasn't sure, and he dared not question it.

You cradled Gaius against you, waiting for him to pull away before cupping his face. "You're beautiful. Inside and out. I don't know what she did to you, but she can't hurt you now. Nobody will ever hurt you the way she did again." You pressed your lips to his forehead, your lips quirking upward when he threw his arms around you in a silent thanks.

He sighed softly against your shoulder, suddenly drained. Though he had to admit, it felt a touch better to have released some of his pent up feelings. Gaius panicked for a moment when he felt himself being lifted up, but he quickly relaxed against you again when he realized you were only taking him to the couch with you.

You sat back down in your spot from earlier, pulling Gaius up to rest on top of you. You gave him a small smile when he gazed up at you, his eyes shining with admiration. You grabbed your book, then wrapped your arms around him. You opened your book to the page you had left off on, holding it with one hand while your other hand stroked his hair.

Gaius shut his eyes, listening to the soothing lull of your heartbeat as your fingers weaved themselves through his hair. He would have to properly thank you later, but for now, this was all he wanted. To feel your body against his, the calming touch of your hand on his head. He loved you with every fiber of his being. He only hoped to be enough for you.

Tag list (let me know if you wanna be added or removed also tumblr kinda sucks and won’t let me tag some people so I’m really sorry about that):

@somin-yin @freya-blanco @opheliadawnwalker3 @galaxy-of-rosess @an-urban-witch-ig @noboundariesplease @edgiestwinter @madaboutchoices @tea-effect @bloodbound-writes @theclownandtheflame @luciemiddleford @cryinginthebackseat @mrs-gaius-augustine @infinitiestones @crazyyfaaangirl @thirteenis-myluckynumber @bigmemesplz @amyraineshessa @mkamra2355   @you-maniac @bachelorettebound14 @ofdreamsandrealities @findmeafterlife @courtesanofedenbrook 

[jawritter]

A Thousand Years...

Chapter 2

Heart beats fast. Colors and promises. How to be brave. How can I love when I’m afraid to fall. But watching you stand alone. All of my doubt suddenly goes away…..

Summary: A soulmate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master. – Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

A new town, a new job, and a new life, one that you didn’t even expect……

Pairing: Reader x OFC Crystal, Reader x OFC Jessie, Jensen Ackles x Reader, Gino x Reader, Danneel x Reader

Word Count: 3039

Warnings will include… Smut, language, unrequited/ requited love, cheating, and possibly more. This is gonna be a slow burn y’all!! This is brand new, so I will add to it as I know. Chapters will have warnings of their own if need be….

A/N: So my little cousin was watching breaking dawn in the living room, and I was folding clothes in the guest room… When the credits rolled and this song started, this fic hit me right in the face… I couldn’t escape it.. I don’t know yet how many chapters it will be! But If you want to be tagged let me know!! As always all mistakes are mine!! Feedback is gold!! Hope you guys enjoy this one!!

Fic Based on the Song A Thousand Years, by Christina Perri

Want more? Check out my Masterlist?

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Nervous, why the hell were you so nervous? It was just a trip to a brewery. It was very unlikely they were going to give you a job there. So it’s not like you were going in with your hope high here, that would be just stupid. 

If Justin had done anything in that facade that you thought was a relationship, it would be to never get your hopes up on anything. Those that expect little were seldom disappointed. 

Nothing happens for a reason. There is no such thing as a higher power. People tell you that they love you when really they are just trying to use you to get what they want from you. The bottom line there is love doesn’t exist. It’s just a gimmick. 

The only thing that is real and constant is yourself. No one is going to look out for you, no one is going to care about you, at the end of the day when things fall apart you are the one you have to face in the mirror and go to bed with at night. You have to live with your decisions, not family, not friends, not “lovers”, no one…It’s just you. It’s always been you. It will always be you, and there is nothing in this life that will convince you to change your mind on the subject. 

“You ready,” you heard Crystal call from the living room of your apartment. You all had decided to go early to the brewery before people really started to get there for the day so that you might have a chance to talk to whoever was managing it about possible job openings. 

Standing there looking at yourself in the full-length mirror you couldn’t help but wonder why even bother. You wouldn’t hire you. Even though you were in your 30’s you looked young. Younger than you would have liked and employers usually look at young as lack of experience. 

You wore only a light coat of foundation because it was rainy today, and you didn’t see the point in painting up like a french whore just to go to a brewery. You wore a black spaghetti strapped shirt with a grey and black flannel you had bought from Target, a pair of black ripped jeans, and black and white converse with your hair pulled up in a messy bun. 

You vaguely wondered exactly when it was that you just stopped trying when it came to your looks, and if it was normal for people your age to just stop caring at this point. You were who you were, and that was it. There was no point in trying to fight it, and if they couldn’t expect you for who you were, you didn’t want anything to do with them. 

You’d spent your whole life trying to please everyone. School was about pleasing and keeping up with the other classmates that were more popular than you were. In your relationship with Justin, it was always about him. Pleasing him, doing what he wanted to do. Being who he wanted you to be. 

Growing up it was about your parents. Trying to be the golden child. The kid they could be proud of. Well, that sure got you far didn’t it?

So you decided that you were done with all that nonsense. You were going to be you, dress how you wanted to, talk how you wanted to, listen to what music you wanted to listen to, and do whatever you felt like it was you wanted to do. End of discussion. What you see is what you get. 

Turning away from the mirror mumbling something to the effect of, “this is as good as it’s gonna get”, you walk into the living room where you found your brother and sister-in-law waiting for you. 

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” you say without much enthusiasm, grabbing your cell phone and shoving it in your pocket before getting your Id, your liquor license just in case you got lucky and they decided to give you a job, along with a little cash and stashing it in your other back pocket as well.

You hated carrying a purse when you went somewhere like a bar or brewery where people would be walking around drinking. You’d seen people lose their shit too many times at the bar you used to work for back in your hometown. It just wasn’t smart. 

Crystal looked at you and took a deep sigh, but said nothing. She was the girly, girl, always has been, always will be. If she had her way about it, you would have thrown on a flowy, girly, sundress that showed off your “assets” and applied enough makeup on to scrape off with a butter knife along with a cute hairstyle and maybe a hat before she would have even stepped out of the house.

Which oddly enough was exactly what she was wearing…go figure…

Less than an hour later you were parking at the parking lot of the surprisingly expansive grounds of the brewery. This place was shockingly huge. You did not expect this at all. You expected a bar with a brewing system in the back. There were also more people there than you expected, and it was also only around noon. 

“I wonder if Jensen is going to be here today?” Crystal turned and asked Jessie as you three started to take a walk toward the big red building that you assumed was the main part of the brewery. 

“I don’t know. You really never know when he’s going to be here,” Jessie said with a shrug.

“Uh…who’s Jensen?”

That question made them both stop dead in their tracks and look at you like you’d just grown a second head or something.

“Who’s Jensen? Seriously? You're shitting me right?” Crystal said, her mouth was all but gaping open.

“Yes, I’m serious. Who is Jensen?” 

Jessie and Crystal turned to look at each other for a moment.

“One of the leads on the TV series Supernatural. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Supernatural?” Crystal asked. “It’s been on TV for like 15 years…” 

You said nothing, just shook your head no.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly started to google before finding what she was looking for and shoved it under your face. 

“That guy with the short hair and the insultingly beautiful face,” she said a little too loudly, causing two girls passing to stare at you as they walked past.

You looked down at the phone and you saw two men on the cover of a TV guide magazine photo. Both of them attractive, but there was something about the one with short hair. His eyes…They were just …captivating.

“He’s cute, but how much of that is a filter, and computer-generated muscles,” you ask, handing her back the phone. 

“Very little. That’s all him babe, if he’s here today you will see for yourself,” she said with a smirk.

“You do know your married, right?” Jessie asked as the three of you started to make your way closer to the brewery. 

“Just 'cause I’m on a diet doesn’t mean I can’t drool over the menu,” she retorts back to her husband with a smirk. 

“He’s not even on the menu he’s married too!” Jessie said, aging her on more. 

“That’s a flexible arrangement, Hollywood marriages never last,” she said with an absolute tone. 

You walked a little ways behind the couple as they “couple bickered” all the way to the front doors of the brewery.

You were impressed by the massive size of this place. It wasn’t what you expected it all. It was peaceful, beautiful. It didn’t have the bar feel that you expected. It was almost homie. 

You walked past the solid wood tables towards the bar, taking in the sites around you. You didn’t want to get our hopes up, but you honestly would not mind coming to work here every day if it stayed this quiet and peaceful. Even in the gloomy, rainy weather, you were having today. 

There were more people hanging around outside than there was in the actual main building. When you walked in you were impressed by the modern feel of the place. It was brighter than you expected. There were no drunk men hanging all over the place, hitting on anything that moved. There were no creeps hiding in dark corners. It was clean. You hated to admit it, but you were downright impressed, and starting to get a little wistful, which you really didn’t want to do because you knew if you got your hopes up, more than likely this was never going to happen, and you’d lived through enough rejection in your life, you didn’t want to live with yet another letdown.

Jessie and Crystal walked up to the bar to place an order, and you hung back a little taking in the room and the furnishings around you. 

“Hey, what can I get for you?” The woman standing behind the counter asked you, and you blinked for a second, surprised that she’d addressed you directly because you weren’t really paying attention up until that point. 

Actually, not right now, but I was hoping to ask someone if you guys were looking to hire someone,” you tell her, not getting your hopes very high.

She looked at you and thought for a moment, shaking her head slightly. 

“I’m not sure if we are, but let me give you this to fill out real quick, and I’ll give it to Gino, he’s the one that kind of gets to hire and fire around here.” 

You nod and thank her as you take your paper to a nearby table to fill out the job application. Crystal and Jessie were walking around looking at the different merchandise that was for sale giving you a little bit of space.

You were just about to get up and go bring the Job Application back to the blonde behind the counter when a man came and sat down across from you. His name that was embroidered on his shirt informed you that this man was Gino. 

“Hey, I’m Gino Graul,” he said, extending his hand for you to shake it, which you did.

“Y/N,” you tell him, putting on your best smile. 

“I’ll go ahead and have a look at that while I actually have you right here in front of me,” Gino said, taking the application from you.

He looked over it quickly, nodding his head as he read. You held your breath. You couldn’t believe how nervous you were right now, but it felt like your whole future was riding on what this man was going to tell you. 

“I see you have on here that you have a license to distribute alcohol. Can I see that?” He asks, and you pulled out your license and handed it to him. 

Gino looked it over and smiled when handing it back to you.

“It’s rare that you find someone that wants to work here that not only has experience working around serving alcohol and things, but to already have a license is almost enough to make me hire you on the spot, I just have one question though, and I ask that you please don’t take this the wrong way. Well, two questions really.”

You nod your head slowly, afraid of what was going to come out of his mouth next. “Okay, I’m listening.” 

“Are you a fan of Supernatural, Jensen, Jared, or anything like that? I know that seems like an odd question, but I ask you to answer me honestly, please. Jensen is around here a lot, especially during the summer. He’s part-owner of this place, and If I’m going to hire you I need to know that you can conduct yourself like a professional, and not a fangirl.” 

You stopped him before he could go any further. 

“I’m not a fan, I didn’t even know of his existence until my sister-in-law was telling me about the place a little walking in here. I’ve never seen the show, I don’t know who Jared is, and I probably couldn’t even pick Jensen out in a crowd. I have no problem working for him, or around him. I’m not one to “fangirl” over anyone or anything. That’s not going to be a problem for me.”

Gino seemed to breath a visible sigh of relief. Apparently fans tend to constantly bug them about working here to see Jensen. 

“Okay, last question, and if you answer this correctly the job is yours if you still want it. Are you willing to sign a Non Disclosure Agreement? It protects our secrets for brewing, and it also will have a gag order of sorts to protect Jensen and his family. Jensen’s children tend to be up here when my sister, who is his wife, is here. It states that you can not give out their physical address to anyone. You can’t give out their phone numbers, because you will probably end up with at least Danneel’s number for work purposes, and you can’t take pictures of their children. No posting to social media about the job, anything like that, that could be dangerous to Jensen or his family, because not all fans are good people, and the protection of his children is our first priority. “

You thought it a little strange that an employer was asking you to sign an NDA, but you also never worked for anyone that was famous before, and you really needed this job. Also, he did make some valid points as to why he wanted you to sign one. 

“I have no problem with that whatsoever.”

“Good, then the job is yours. Give me your ID and I’ll go make a copy of these and I’ll print out the paperwork for you to sign. After we’re done with all that I’ll give you the tour of the place…Jensen is in the back. He will want to meet you as well.”

“Thank you so much! You have no idea how much I appreciate this opportunity,” you tell him, shaking his hand. 

For once in your life, it seemed like things were starting to go right. Even though you were afraid to let yourself hope, because it seemed like everything you had ever hoped for, ever dreamed about, had fallen apart at your feet. 

This time though, this time something just felt right, even if you were afraid to admit it to even yourself. Something deep down told you for the first time ever you’ve walked right into where you need to be. That a piece that was missing just maybe was about to be filled, and you just maybe could walk away from all this mess that you called life so far whole after all.

Maybe….

An hour later you had toured the entire brewery with Gino, which had a whole lot more to it than just a brewery, and had filled out all the paperwork needed to go to work tomorrow. 

“So, what do you think so far? Gonna like working here?” Gino asked as you rounded the corner to go to the back where they were brewing the beer. 

“Yeah, I actually think I’m really gonna like it,” you tell him, following Gino through the brewery to the back office where only employees went.

“Good. Well, there’s one more thing I got to do before I turn you loose for today so you can go get yourself ready for tomorrow,” Gino said, coming to a stop in front of the office door. 

“Okay…”

“You have to meet Jensen and my sister.”

Opening the door there were two people waiting on the other side. A skinny woman who Gino introduced as Danneel, and a man that honestly knocked the wind out of you without saying a word, all he did was turn around in his chair and look at you. 

“Hey, I’m Jensen,” He said, getting up from behind the desk, and walking around it to shake your hand. 

His grip was firm, his hands were a little calloused and warm, just the touch of his skin to yours made your stomach do a backflip. The picture that Crystal showed you before did NOT do this man justice at all. 

In person he was breathtaking. His emerald green eyes searched yours with his grip firm on your hand. His t-shirt did little to hide the muscles that covered his arms and chest. His tall frame towered over you He had a light dusting of freckles that seemed to stick out under the florescent lights in the office, and a strong jawline that seemed soft under his light beard. 

Mentally slapping yourself because you had already promised Gino that you wouldn’t “fangirl” all over him, you smile at him like you would do any other employer on your first day or interview for the job.

“Y/N,” you tell him simply, hoping your voice didn’t give you away, it was so hard to concentrate though, he smelled so amazing. 

“So Gino told me he hired you today, when did he tell you to start?” Jensen asked, walking back around the desk. Danneel was leaning up against the back wall, saying nothing, but watching your every move. 

“Tomorrow,” you tell him, watching him pick up his phone and start scrolling through it.

“Good, 'cause tomorrow we’re having local vendors out and there will be more people here than normal. Especially because I’m going to be here as well. Looks like we might even be working together tomorrow, because I like to get to know my employees.” Jensen said, and all you could do was nod your head, wondering to yourself how in the hell you were going to survive it.

You didn’t understand it, because you had never experienced it, but there was something about this man. It struck a chord deep in your soul the moment he put his hand on yours. It dug itself in deep and made itself at home. There was no getting rid of it now, even though you didn’t know exactly what it was yet. Almost like an invisible cord that jumped out and tied yourself to him.

With only one touch he’d intoxicated your very spirit and nearly knocked you off your feet. No man alive had ever done that before, and you wondered what made this man so much different.

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Tag List:

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[sheerfreesia007]

Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 28)

Title: Fallin’ All In You (Pt. 28)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007​​

Words: 3,276

Warnings: Fluff, description of fighting

Tags: @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​, @two-unbeatable-beaters​, @sevvysaurus​, @randomness501​

Author Notes: I really enjoyed writing this one! I’m starting to like writing fighting scenes. Also I couldn’t find a gif of Pedro protecting like how I described so I got a little nerdy. I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for reading!

Gif Credit: Google search

           The soft tune of your ringtone wakes you slowly from your slumber. You stretch languidly and groan loudly as you feel your joints pop and your muscles move under your skin. Reaching for your phone as the ringtone starts again you silently check the name on the screen and smile confused.

           “Good morning Agent Vodka.” You chirp happily into the phone. You hear the soft raspy laughter of the other agent filter into your ear and you smile warmly. “What do I owe the pleasure of waking up to your lovely laugh?” you tease good-naturedly.

           “I didn’t mean to wake you.” The other agent apologizes and you laugh happily.

           “It’s no bother. I’m on vacation I’ve got plenty of time to sleep.” You admit. “What can I do for ya?” you question curiously. You’re fingers are dancing across the bed sheet that’s covering you and take in a deep breath smelling Jack’s scent and aftershave surround you. It makes you slightly dizzy as you roll fully onto your back to stare up at the ceiling in a daze. He had to leave early this morning to head into work and had woken you earlier than his alarm to warm wet kisses trailing up and down your chest. It was one of the best ways to wake up in his arms with his body pressed tightly to yours and his lips grazing along your body. Shivering slightly at the memory of what he had done next to wake you fully you let your fingers grip the sheet tightly in arousal.

           “I was wondering if you’d be willing to help with a few training demonstrations today?” came the raspy question in your ear and suddenly you were reminded that you were on a phone call with another agent not just lying about in bed daydreaming about Jack and his talents in the bedroom.

           “I would love to Vodka. I can be at HQ in a half hour tops.” You said excitedly sitting up in bed. Your vacation was almost up and it had mostly been spent with Jack lazing about and just spending time together. It had also been spent more in Jack’s bed than anywhere else. To be given something new and motivating to do besides relax, like this opportunity to help fellow Statesman trainees, was something that made you excited. Not to say that you weren’t enjoying your time relaxing with Jack because you were. The memories that you were creating with Jack would last you during the times when the two of you were separate from each other and you were grateful for this time with him.

           “That’s great Curaçao. There’s no rush, when you get here come find me in the level three training rooms.” Vodka advises before hanging up. You smiled as you pulled the phone away from your face excited that you would get to spend some time with Agent Vodka and help with a training demonstration.

           Getting up from the bed you let the bed sheet slowly fall from your body and you sent a good morning text to Jack letting him know what was going on now that you had morning plans. You set your phone down on the bed side table and pulled out a pair of Statesman agency workout clothes that Jack had gotten for you to keep here at his apartment. Setting the clothes on the bed you then turned to the bathroom and began getting ready for the day.

           By the time you were showered and changed your phone had the flashing blue light indicating you had notifications waiting for your attention. Unlocking your phone a smile graced your lips as you saw that Jack had called you and text you at least twice. You quickly read the over the texts from him before you pulled up Jack’s contact to call him.

           Easily locking up the apartment you waited for Jack to answer his phone. Nodding to Jack’s elderly neighbor you smiled warmly at her as you passed her on your way to the elevator that would bring you down the main lobby so you could walk to the nearest subway station. You watched silently as she struggled with her bag of groceries and trying to open her door. You diverted quickly over to her and grabbed the bag as it slipped out of her hands. She looked up at you with shocked eyes and you smiled warmly at her. She quickly unlocked her door and you handed her back the bag of groceries while she thanked you profusely. You shook your head kindly and waved at her as you moved towards your destination. You had made it to the elevator before Jack answered panting.

           “Darlin’. Hello?” came his panting voice and a smile lit up your face.

           “I’m here handsome.” Came your response and you heard Jack sigh.

           “I’m glad I didn’t miss you.” He admitted warmly and you heard him get situated. “I’m sorry I had to leave you so early this morning.”

           “It’s no big deal Jack. I know you still have to go into work. Plus that wakeup call this morning definitely made up for waking up that early.” You reassured him in seductive tone.

           “Oh was it?” Jack questioned in a low gravelly voice.

           “Mmhmm. Plus we’re still on for our lunch date right?” you asked as you entered the elevator and pressed the lobby button to travel down. You stared up at the numbers as they lit up as the elevator traveled past them.

           “Of course darlin’. I was planning on ordering from the Chinese restaurant we liked last month.” He stated.

           “Oooh, okay. That sounds nice.” You responded as the elevator dinged softly letting you know that you had made it down to the lobby. Stepping out you effortlessly surveyed the area taking in the few loitering apartment tenants and the door man who sat behind the large oak desk in the middle of the floor. You nodded your head to the doorman as you passed and he nodded back you with a small smile. Moving out of the front doors you quickly sidestepped some tourists who were in awe of the buildings around you. “Ok so I should be at HQ in about fifteen or so minutes and I’ve got to meet Vodka in the level three training rooms.”

           “Ok darlin’. Be safe. I love you, I’ll see you when you get here.” Jack proclaimed warmly.

           “I love you too handsome I’ll see you soon.”

           Making your way quickly through the crowded streets you easily kept your eyes darting back and forth staying alert of your surroundings. This had always become second nature to you. You supposed it was due to your upbringing, what with a Boston P.D. captain for a father you had always been told to be alert and to keep your head on a swivel it was a no brainer you were good at this. And it had only gotten worse after… Shaking your head you began to descend the subway station stairs. You didn’t have time to think about that.

           True to your word you were walking into HQ not even thirty minutes from when Vodka had called you. The front desk clerk waved at you as you flashed your I.D. and began walking to the elevator alcove to head up to the training rooms. But just as you were stepping towards the small alcove that held the elevators a hand shoots out to make a grab at you. Easily dancing away you spin grinning up at Jack who’s staring at you in surprise.

           “Always gotta be vigilant handsome.” You tease before grabbing his out stretched hand to lead him to the elevator. One opens up for you and you tug Jack in behind you. Quickly hitting the button of the floor of the training rooms you turn to look up at him and he’s still in awe at your dodging skills. “You okay?” you asked curiously as you reach up and cup his cheek.

           “You’re awfully good at surveillance and evasive work aren’t you?” he questions still in awe as you looks down at you. You shrug your shoulders and smile proudly up at him.

           “It’s my specialty in field work.” You advise blatantly. It’s one of the things that you pride yourself in excelling at. Even during training as a field agent you were confident in your skills in that area.

           “If I remember correctly you also specialize in engineering and mechanical work.” Jack mused quietly as he stared down at you. You nodded smiling confidently up at him. Jack grinned and pulled you further into his arms. “You are amazing darlin’ I learn something new about you every time I’m with you.”

           “That’s how I keep you on the hook.” You teased warmly to him as you felt his arms wrap around your lower back tugging that much closer to his body.

           “Oh I will always be on the hook.” He teased back and you smiled happily up at him. Jack leaned downward to press a kiss to your lips and you tenderly kissed him back. Jack growled softly at you and you laughed softly as he tried to follow you as you pulled away.

           “Jack, I’ve gotta get to training.” You admonished softly setting your hands on his chest trying to push away.

           “Uh uh darlin’. It’s been at least four hours since I’ve last kissed you I’ve been wasting away.” Jack bemoaned to you and you chuckled amused at his antics.

           “Oh you poor baby.” You cooed at him as your hands trailed up to his chest to cup his cheeks. His grin was wide as you pulled him down towards you. The two of you stood in the middle of the elevator kissing and you felt yourself getting lost in the feeling of his lips pressed to you. You couldn’t help it when it came to Jack and he easily distracted you from everything. You frowned softly as you heard soft snickering from behind you and you pulled away from Jack.

           Turning you saw a whole group of younger looking people and quite a few were snickering softly. Some thankfully had the manners to hide it behind their hands the others just laughed and gave smug grins at the display you no doubt were giving them. Blushing brightly you felt Jack’s hand tighten on your hip and he shifted so that he stood in front of you protecting you from view of the group.

           “Y’all get a good look? Because that’s all yer gonna git.” Jack drawled out angrily as he took on a defensive stance in front of the group. “Now move on.” He snapped heatedly and you stared up at him in shock. You had never really truly seen him act like this. Normally he was soft and gentle when around you and now he was hard and harsh. You knew he was protecting you and it made your heart flutter in your chest at the affection he held for you. You watched as the group of people started to move farther down the hall. You saw a few of the women looking at Jack appreciatively and you chuckled softly knowing exactly what they were thinking.

           Jack tugged you out of the elevator and over to the training rooms and you watched wide eye as the last of the group that had stood in front of the elevator walked into one of the training rooms. You groaned softly as Jack turned to look at you as you flung your head back softly.

           “Those were the trainees.” You pieced together regretfully as you felt a blush growing deeper on your cheeks. Jack grimaced softly at you and nodded. “They all watched us make out like teenagers in an elevator Jack!” you hissed softly and he ran a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly.

           “Yeah darlin’. But if any of them give you any trouble you come and tell me alright? I won’t have any of them give you any lip and they will be dealt with accordingly.” Jack assured and you shook your head embarrassed. Jack cupped your cheeks and pressed a hard deep kiss to your lips before pulling away just as quickly. “Promise me you’ll tell me if they give you any trouble.” He implored you and you nodded feeling like you would be tattle telling on the new trainees. You already knew that you would only tell Jack if it got really bad. Hopefully the demonstration you would be doing with Vodka would distract them enough from your display in the elevator.

           Turning from Jack you opened up the door and took in a deep breath raising your chin into the air so that you wouldn’t seem ashamed by what you were doing with Jack. You were embarrassed sure it wasn’t like you wanted to broadcast what you and Jack got up to behind closed doors. You heard the soft whispers following you as you walked into the room and over to where Vodka stood smiling at you in a teasing manner. You nodded your head at her as you came up to her side and she rasped out a soft laugh.

           “So I heard you got caught locking lips with Whiskey.” She whispered to you as you stood in front of her and you grimaced softly before you shrugged your shoulders. “Well don’t worry we’ll show them how much of a bad ass you are in just a minute.” She said warmly with a wink and you chuckled softly shaking your head. “Alright grubs lets gather ‘round. Today we’re going to be training with knives and hand to hand combat.” Vodka called out to the trainees and you grinned widely. Hand to hand combat wasn’t your forte but you could definitely hold your own and you were good in using your size against bigger opponents.

           You watched as Vodka moved over to a table that sat at the far right side of the room and saw a slew of knives laid out. Her fingers danced over the knives easily as she silently chose which ones she’d use. “First we’re going to demonstrate how it would look like for a Statesman agent to come across an assailant who has knives and you don’t.” Vodka explained and watched as she turned to you nodding. You nodded back and stood tall to make it seem like you weren’t prepared for her attack.

           Vodka walked casually over to you and then quickly attacked. Her right hand swung out towards you and you quickly dodged it and ducked under her arm to punch her in the side shoving her away from you. Vodka then came at you harder and you blocked and parried her swings and knife work. As the two of you were dancing around each other, she trying to get a hit in with her knife and you trying to disarm her, you could hear the awed silence as the trainees watched the two of you fighting. Just then you saw your opportunity and you grabbed Vodka’s wrist in both hands before you turned quickly and yanked her wrist down over your shoulder while you pressed your fingers into her wrist pushing her hand in the opposite direction of her arm movement. The knife clattered to the floor and the room was so quiet that the sound of the knife hitting the floor echoed in the space.

           “Wow.” Came a soft voice that made you and Vodka look over to a small younger man who looked at you in admiration. “Will we be learning how to do what she just did? Because none of the other male agents you’ve brought in have been able to disarm you in under ten minutes and she only took seven.” He said appreciatively. You laughed proudly and released Vodka easily.

           “Really?” you asked curiously as you turned to Vodka who was rotating her  wrist to work out the ache. She shrugged with a proud smirk on her face as she looked at you in a new light. “Who’d you bring in before?” you questioned and she grinned widely.

           “Tequila, Bourbon, and Ale.” She listed off and a grin spread across your face.

           “Oh I just won bragging rights on Tequila.” You bragged and Vodka laughed out loudly.

           “And yes you will be learning how to do what she just did. Though I doubt any of you will be able to disarm me at all.” Vodka admits pleasantly.

             It was a couple of hours later when the training demonstrations ended and you thankfully slumped down to the floor grinning. It had been a good workout and you were more than grateful for it to be over your whole body felt like jelly. You smiled up at Vodka as she handed a towel to you and took it gratefully as you mopped it across your brow.

           “You did real good today and I really appreciate your help.” She admitted as she sat down next to you. The trainees were all splayed out or sitting on the floor in pairs around the room and you smiled over at Vodka.

           “It’s no problem I had fun.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders. Just then you heard the door to the training room open and you looked up to see Jack walking in and over to you and Vodka. You smiled warmly up at him as he stood in front of the two of you.

           “Ladies.” He greeted making you and Vodka snicker softly to each other.

           “Hey Whiskey!” called one of the younger trainees that you had found out was named Paul. You watched as he walked over to Jack with a smug grin on his face.

           “Yes Paul, what can I do for ya?” Jack asked turning to the man.

           “You’ve got a real bad ass for a lady.” Paul advised with a nod to you making you and Vodka snicker again.

           “All the trainees are in love with you now.” Vodka whispered into your ear as she leaned over towards you and you laughed shaking your head at her.

           “I know that Paul thanks.” Jack said smirking at the trainee. Paul nodded and smiled admiringly over at you before walking back over to the other trainees. Jack turned to look down at you and Vodka and held his hands out to the two of you. “C’mon then I’ve bought a late lunch for the two of you from the Chinese place. Wanna come and eat in my office?” Jack asked in a friendly tone to both you and Vodka.

           “Actually I’m gonna skip the love fest between you two and just take the food.” Vodka said in an amused tone as she stood next to you. “Thanks for helping me with the trainees today Curaçao.”

           “I’ll send the food down to your office.” Jack advised and Vodka nodded as she began waving the trainees out of the room.

           “Thanks.” Vodka nods to him and leaves out of the training room behind the trainees. You smile and wrap an arm around Jack’s waist.

           “So I take it they didn’t give you any trouble?” Jack asked fondly to you and you shook your head.

           “Vodka showed them how bad ass I am so it worked out and they completely forgot about us making out in the elevator.” You advised and Jack effortlessly led you out of the training room.

           “Good. I didn’t want to have to knock some skulls together.” Jack teased lowly and pressed a kiss to your temple. You laughed loudly as you gripped tighter around his waist.

[omgviolette12]

After Hours - Chapter 13

Previous Chapter

Summary: After sex, comes the bliss... right?

Chapters: 13/?

Words: 2800+

Warnings: None

Tags:  @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666  @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77 @nerd–nirvana @valdemarismynonbinarylove@nightrose64 @pastelhexmaniac @iistormii

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

A/N:  Sorry for the delay, still in the midst of final projects. Motivation to complete work/writing has been a bit slow, and I’ve been trying to think up new plot points. I’ve been stuck, lol. Anyway, enjoy!

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

Evelyn should’ve expected this, but she had no idea that she would be this sore.

 After the shower, they both became somewhat insatiable. It was as though Loki couldn’t get enough of her, and she of him. The taboo of their relationship spurred on their lust, the need to be connected to each other in every way possible great. So like he had promised, he fucked her into the late hours of the night.

  While she was grateful that her first time was far from terrible...she made a mental note to learn her limits. She thought the idea of getting fucked silly by the man she pined for would be a dream come true - but the effects on her body afterwards was kind of a bitch.

 Evelyn hopped and limped all the way to Loki’s car when they left his house early in the morning, wincing with every step. She attributed the amount of pain she was in due to the fact that she was simply not used to sex, and her professor’s size was considerable. 

 Perhaps the more they did it, the less pain there would be overtime?

Just the thought of a ‘next time’ in Loki’s bed was enough to set off another wave of butterflies inside her stomach. Whatever pain she was in right now, it was worth it.

 Loki, however, had long noticed Evelyn’s plight - in fact, he even had the gall to tease her about it, offering to carry her up the steps to her door like a princess once they reached her apartment.

 He sounded pretty serious about it too, so Evelyn couldn't help but blush even though she knew he was just messing around. It was going to be a challenge getting used to his playful side…

 Evelyn promised him that she'd stop by his office later on in the day, to resume her duties as his TA. Since she wouldn’t be able to attend the Monday lecture to help out this time around for obvious reasons, the least she could do was grade some exams. 

 She dreaded grading, especially since it was math( another reason why she skipped meetings in the beginning…) but now that the dynamic between her and Loki has changed considerably, she was actually looking forward to being productive in his presence.

  They parted with a kiss, and Evelyn made her way to her apartment door slowly. Now, she just had to try to walk inside like there wasn't a stick up her ass.

To Evelyn’s surprise and dismay, Candice was waiting for her on the couch, a cup of hot cocoa in hand as she watched her hop through the front door.

 Evelyn was secretly banking on the fact that she had left for work already, since Candice mentioned offhandedly that she took up more shifts at her hospital.

  But alas, the shit-eating grin that was plastered on Candice’s face meant that she must’ve called in sick to witness Evelyn’s limp of shame, first thing.

 “Well! I’ll be damned,”

 Evelyn stubbornly ignored her in embarrassment as she limped past the couch to head to her room, but Candice set down her mug to follow her, giggling like a fool, “He busted that cherry so hard he got you hoppin’ like a bunny! Sheesh...”

 "Not now, Candice…" Her face felt hot, desperately wishing her sister had some sort of filter.

 "Did y'all use a rubber? Did he hurt you? Because if he hurt you Eve -"

 Candice was going to badger her until all was answered, so Evelyn relented with a grimace, hoping she would leave her alone after she was satisfied,

 “ No! He didn’t hurt me...and yes, we used protection. Each time.”

 “Each ti- each time?! How many times did y’all fu- ”

 Evelyn cut her off before she could finish, “I’ll answer all the juicy deets later, okay!? I didn’t have time to shower before we left, and I wanna do that now. Please?”

 Candice realized she was being a bit overbearing, backing off a bit. Evelyn was extremely fun to tease and make fun off, but she knew her sister had limits,

  “Sorry, sorry. My baby sister never seemed the type to be interested in sex or anything before...so to do it with a professor of all people for your first time! And a kinky one! Don’t blame me for being interested and concerned...”

 Evelyn ignored the kinky comment, limping inside her room as she replied, “I mean, is the professor thing really that big a deal? I’m technically just a former student of his...”

 “Not really, you already know how my hoe phase was. Fucked a few teachers in my college days. But you have to be careful with these older men Eve, since you’re new to this sort of thing. Don't get attached. Especially if his dick game’s good, he will manipulate the hell outta you,”

 "...Speaking from experience?"

 "Yep. Found out this guy was a whole married man and I still went back to fuck. Good dick messes with your morals sis,"

 Evelyn had a hard time taking her words seriously since Candice lacked morals in the first place, but pretended to agree so she could leave her be,

"I'll make sure to be careful, okay? Can I shower now?"

 "Yeah yeah, we'll talk more later. Remember what I said, hmm?"

And with that, Candice left her room with a skip to her step.

 Evelyn didn’t bother processing her sister’s warning, going straight to the shower to relieve her sore muscles.

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

 By the time Evelyn made her way unto the campus, the pain had lessened considerably. She still had to walk a bit carefully, but she didn’t feel as raw as before. While she showered, she also noticed bruises alongside her hip and waist - she even had to use more than a bit of makeup to cover the new ones Loki had ‘affectionately’ placed in plain sight on her neck.

 She was especially hard to bruise, so she was baffled at the amount she currently had.

 Evelyn thought that she should at least feel miffed about it, but somehow the thought of being marked as his, in any way, sent a thrill through her being. Even when he was rough at some points...

  I had sex just once and I’m already a deviant…hehe.

 Evelyn was quite busy daydreaming about the naughty events from last night, that she didn’t see the tall figure standing in her way as she headed towards Loki’s office.

 ‘Oof!’

 As expected, she collided straight into the person’s side, yelping in the process.

 “Oh shit - I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention…”

 She looked up apologetically at the woman in front of her - lithe and pale, with narrowed blue eyes that accentuated her intimidating presence. 

 Perhaps because she also had dark hair and sharp facial features, she saw a vague resemblance to Loki.

 “Obviously, you weren’t,” the woman replied curtly, before giving a tight smile,

“But, I’ll forgive you if you were to lend some assistance.”

 Her tone carried a sort of cold arrogance, as Evelyn shrunk underneath her stare. She even had Loki’s accent…

 “Uh...of course! How can I help…?” Although she was in a bit of a rush to get to where she needed to be, she did not want the woman in front of her to be any more pissed off than she already seemed to look.

 She showed Evelyn a map of the campus that was in her hands, pointing at the building she wanted to head to, “This map is much too complicated for me, and I’m trying to look for this building. I need to find someone, and this is where his office is apparently.”

 “Oh, I’m actually heading there!” Evelyn was glad that the woman pointed towards the science department - the campus was fairly large, and she barely knew half of the map. “If you don’t mind me asking, who’re you trying to find? I can show you to them directly…”

 She didn’t have to go the extra mile, merely walk with her to the building. But Evelyn had always been a people pleaser.

 “Ah, I’m looking for my brother. Are you a student of his, perhaps? I do know that he teaches here…Loki Odinson. Or Laufeyson, whatever he wants to go by nowadays.”

 “Brother? You’re Loki’s sister?” Evelyn asked in a surprised tone, voice elevated. He did mention he two had siblings during their date, but he never went into detail about anything.

 The woman looked at her oddly, a small chuckle leaving her lips, “Well, you certainly sound quite familiar with him.”

 Evelyn realized her mistake, hastily rushing to fix it. Loki was fine with Candice knowing everything, but she still wasn’t sure about his side of the family. 

 “Oh, about that...I usually just call all the professors by their names, haha…”

 “My brother really dislikes being referred to in an informal manner, so I find the idea of him allowing that unlikely.”

 “.....”

 Evelyn was momentarily speechless, akin to a deer in headlights. 

 “Uhm, you see, I -“

 “No need to explain,” the woman stepped closer, a bit too close for comfort as she scrutinized Evelyn’s face, “You’re his exact type, you know. Short, timid, pretty. He’s probably quite taken with you...” 

 As she looked her up and down, a spark of realization lit her eyes..

 “Miss...you’re stepping out of line here.”

She was assuming way too much, for just a minor slip up. And who spoke like this to someone they just met? 

 “Oh, It's just harmless teasing,” she stepped back, her smile starting to look a lot more natural. 

 She pulled out her hand for a handshake, “ Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Hela. Hela Odinson. And you?”

 Evelyn gave a momentary look of reluctance before accepting the handshake, “Uhm, Evelyn Monroe. Nice to meet you, I guess?”

 Hela’s smile became broader, “Let’s walk and talk, hmm?”

 Evelyn was very uncomfortable, but started to walk regardless.

 As they made their way towards Loki’s office, Hela, surprisingly, insisted on making small talk. Evelyn pegged her for the cold and silent type like her brother, but she was entirely the opposite. She asked general questions about what Evelyn did, her age, etc. But unfortunately, she also kept asking suggestive questions, hoping for another slip up on her end.

 “I haven’t spoken to my brother in a while, so I’m clueless as to how he’s doing. Does he treat you well, Evelyn?”

 Hela began adopting a familiar and warmer tone, softening Evelyn’s first impression. It succeeded in lulling her into a sense of minor comfort, “Oh, he treats me very well. I mean, he’s pretty nice to all of his students, most times...” 

 “Hm, that’s surprising. His personality is treacherous, so I expected the opposite.”

 Evelyn looked at her quizzically. For his sister, she sure spoke like she disliked him to a large degree.

 “Since I like you, I’ll give you a bit of advice,”

Hela turned to look at her then, meeting her eyes,

“Don’t get too attached to a man like Loki, especially if he thinks you’re a temporary plaything. He gets... annoyed, quite easily. You weren't the only one he happened to fancy so much in the past...so I'd know.”

….?!??

“Excuse me, but what -“ Evelyn started, but then the dark, pissed off voice of her professor sounded from behind them.

 “Hela,”

 His face was pulled into a tight scowl, trained directly at his sister, “ What nonsense are you spewing?”

 Loki appeared behind them suddenly out of thin air, startling the wits out of Evelyn. Before she could ponder the possibility that he had magical powers, she realized they just passed the lecture hall where his class was, on the way to his office.

 “I took time out of my busy schedule to see you, dear brother...one would think you’d sound a bit more affectionate. Hasn't it been a year since we last spoke?”

 “Slither back to whatever hell you came from, woman.”

 “Well, I suppose that’s close enough.”

 Evelyn looked back and forth between the two, the tension thick and uncomfortable. They were in the middle of the hallway and students still wandered about, so she decided to make an exit. She wanted no part in whatever mystery family drama that was unfolding...and she needed time to ponder over Hela’s words.

  I’ll ask just him about this later...

 “So...um. I’m gonna go ahead to the office, okay? Grade those papers...yippee…”

 She added awkwardly, slowly backing away.

 Loki looked at her then. She hoped his face would soften a bit, but it didn’t. 

“I’ll be there shortly. This won’t take long.”

His answers were short and clipped, so she knew he was pissed. 

She didn’t do anything wrong to her knowledge, so she blamed his mood all on his sister. 

 Before Evelyn left, Hela addressed her one last time.

“It was lovely meeting you, sweetheart. I’m sure we’ll see each other again…”

 “Oh. Uhm, yeah. Nice meeting you too…”

Evelyn didn’t waste anymore time, leaving the pair once she saw Loki’s worsening expression.

 ---------------------

Hela’s words from before repeated inside her head, filling her with a sense of paranoia. But, she had no reason to be paranoid, right? Loki said they were exclusive, after all. He said he wanted her to be his woman. No, she was his woman. And he made sure of that last night.

 Evelyn stubbornly pushed her anxieties aside into the far crevice of her mind, reassuring herself with his words. Although Hela was his sister, she and Loki clearly weren’t on good terms. She could’ve said that in order to sabotage their suspected relationship.

  God, this is giving me a damn headache...

 She settled in Loki's office, taking the stack of exams from his desk and got comfortable on the couch. She hoped grading and correcting complicated equations would fry her brain enough to stop the fretting, as she waited for him to come.

 Loki appeared after about fifteen minutes, and Evelyn bolted upright once she heard him enter.

 “Oh, Loki! I went ahead and started…”

She paused mid sentence when she saw his expression.

“...Grading…”

 Why did it feel like she was in some sort of trouble? The heck?

His face didn’t change much from when he spoke to Hela, so it made her nervous.

 Evelyn just opted to stay quiet for now. She’d ask about Hela later once he looked a little less pissed off. She was his girlfriend now, but she still felt his authoritative presence especially when they were on campus.

 Well, she was going to stay quiet, until his deep voice resounded inside the room.

 “I'm curious about something, Evelyn.”

  Uh oh. Why's he using that voice?

 "How did that...woman, know that we were involved with each other?"

 "Uh...woman? I mean, I thought she said she was your sister…?"

 "That isn't the answer to my question."

 Inwardly, Evelyn felt whiplashed. Everything was so dandy this morning and last night...so how did things take such a strange turn so quickly?

 "Look, when she told me she was your sister, I said your first name on impulse. That's literally it! She assumed stuff based on that one thing…"

 Evelyn put the papers on her lap to the side, feeling frustrated, "And…it really isn't that big a deal, right? You said that people outside the school could know. You were fine with Candice knowing, so why not -"

 He cut her off before she could finish,

"Darling, let me say this in a way that you can comprehend," 

  In...in a way that I can comprehendddd? Did he just call me stupid eloquently?

 Evelyn was stunned into silence as Loki spoke, and he moved to stand above her as she sat rigidly on the couch. "Such a simple mistake, regardless of who it was, is monumental. Your words weren't what gave you away, Evelyn. But your body language. You're entirely too expressive for your own good,"

 He sighed a disappointed sigh, moving away to pinch the bridge of his nose, "At any rate, I can live with Hela knowing...but for future reference, avoid her. At all costs."

 Loki looked at her then, eyes stern, "Do you understand what I'm saying? Or should I elaborate further?"

 Evelyn was honestly a bit speechless. She felt extremely put off and mildly hurt… that he spoke to her like she was a child, rather than his lover.

She really hated herself right now. Was she actually about to cry? He would seriously think she was childish, if this was how she was going to react.

 Tears wouldn’t do her any favors, especially once he was in this kind of mood anyway.

Why am I so fucking sensitive?!

She sighed shakily, swallowing the knot in her throat as she replied, "Yeah...I got it."

 "Good, then." 

 He moved casually to sit behind his desk, attempting to soften his tone with his next words, "You can work for maybe half an hour, then I'd like to treat you to dinner. Seeing that woman left an unpleasant taste… but spending more time with you should remedy that."

 She didn't reply, and only stared at the floor.

 "... Evelyn?"

 When she glanced up, he saw that her large, hazel eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.

”I’m... I’m going to use the restroom, okay? I’ll be back,”

 She got up quickly. And before he could properly react, she promptly went to exit the room.

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

A/N:  Your thoughts bring me joy, I greatly appreciate each and every one! Please let me know what you thought :)

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 1: First Impressions

(Banner made by the savior herself @tiostyles)

Harry X OFC (AU)

In which Blue, a perpetual wanderer, finds herself drawn to the mystery of Wolver Valley, and to a certain motorcycle-riding mechanic named Harry.

Read previous part here.

Author’s note: WELCOME TO WOLVER VALLEY. I hope y’all get the same vibe as I do from this place and these characters. Please like, reblog, and LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. Enjoy. Xx

Thank you to my lovely betas: @biteharrysthigh // @lilacobscure // @metinthehallway // @belle-ofthe-sea // @nofoookingway // @lyllibug // @justsaying20

Blue traveled back into town, balancing on the edge of the curb all the way. She hadn’t been in Wolver Valley for more than an hour before she’d seen everything Main Street had to offer: an old-school movie theater, some little boutiques, a diner, a florist, a bookstore, a record shop, a tattoo parlor, and something that looked suspiciously like a strip joint. Not even a cafe.

Deciding that she’d lugged her bag around for long enough, and finding that her strawberries were diminishing at an alarming rate, she made her way to the next block, where she’d caught sight of the Red Roof sign. She checked herself into a room, threw her duffel on the double bed, and stuck the rest of her fruit in the mini fridge. She left before she’d even noticed the pattern on the wallpaper.

As Harry said, The Five and Jive really was just around the corner. A little brick structure with a pot-holed parking lot and dying neon signs lighting up the front windows. Even at six in the evening, it was loud. Music and shouting filtered out through a wood-framed screen door.

Blue pushed her way inside and glanced around. A couple of pool tables, both of which were crowded around. Scratched up booths and a rather empty bar top. Blue swung herself up onto a stool and checked her pockets for cash.

“Oh, new face,” said a woman who appeared on the opposite side of the counter, bronze skin and full lips and cheerful dark eyes. “How exciting."

“Are you Leya?”

The woman looked taken aback. She raised an eyebrow as she leaned backward, toward the lines of bottles arranged on the glowing shelves behind her. “Who’s been talking about me?”

“Harry says hi.”

A wide, white smile spread over Leya’s face. “Well, in that case, first drink’s on the house. What’ll you have?”

“Vodka tonic,” Blue ordered. “You serve fries?”

“Wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” said a man, passing behind Leya and laying a hand on her hip as he worked his way to the end of the bar. “Jack likes to add so much salt, you’ll dry your tongue right out.”

“Actually, he’s right,” said Leya. “Onion rings are probably a better option, if you like those.”

Blue sighed. “I guess I’ll take an order, then.”

“Zayn?” Leya cued.

Zayn sipped a glass of water that he’d pulled out from beneath the bar and rolled his eyes before making his way back around her and into the kitchen. Leya returned her attention to Blue and began mixing up her drink.

“So, what’s your name? Where are you from?”

“Blue. And I’m not really from anywhere.”

“Blue. Like the color?”

She nodded shortly. If she was going to have to keep introducing herself to these strangers, she might just stay in her motel room for the rest of her time here. She’d only done it twice so far and she was already finding it tiresome.

“Not from anywhere?” Leya reached beneath the bar and stuck a lime wedge on the rim of Blue’s glass, pushing it across the counter toward her. “You’ve gotta be from somewhere. You didn’t just appear.”

“I was born in California.”

“Oh. Cali girl, huh?”

“Not really,” Blue deadpanned, sipping from the little yellow straw that Leya had stuck in her glass.

“Mysterious, then.”

“You’re not from around here either,” Blue commented, noticing the way that Leya framed her syllables.

“No,” Leya agreed with a short nod. “Jamaica."

Blue glanced around the bar, at the older men tucked away in a corner, dressed all in black and brown leather. There were a few kids who certainly weren’t of drinking age practicing shots at the pool table closest to her, and another of their friends messing with the old jukebox against the far wall. The girl stepped back to the pool table when she’d made a decision and the twang of a country blues song sounded through the room.

“So,” Blue began, spinning back around on her stool, "who would I have to talk to about getting a job here? Just for about a week or so.”

“You have experience bartending?” Leya asked, just as Zayn returned with a basket full of greasy onion rings. He set them down in front of Blue and looked between her and Leya.

“You’re hiring her?” he asked. “Some stranger? What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Her name is Blue,” Leya told him with an irritated look. “And I will hire whoever I’d like.”

Zayn scoffed. “It took me two weeks to convince you to hire me, and we’ve known each other since second grade.”

“Because we’ve known each other since second grade, Zayn. And you’ve been a pain in my ass ever since.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn muttered. He leaned in and pressed a rough kiss to her cheek and then flitted off down the bar to serve another customer.

Blue watched him leave and then raised a brow at Leya. “I should be talking to you, then? Do I have to sleep with you to get a job, too?”

Leya let out a chiming laugh. “Wouldn’t hurt,” she said. “This is my uncle's place. You never answered my question. Do you have experience?”

“I have experience drinking,” Blue offered, sipping at her vodka tonic again. “But I’m a quick learner.”

Leya took a deep breath, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Could be interesting. Where are you staying? Red Roof?”

Blue nodded.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a resume or something for me, huh?”

“No, ma’am.”

A large group of men burst through the screen door. Middle-aged, dads probably, wearing cut-off t-shirts with numbers on the back. Leya tipped her head to them. “All right. I’ve gotta get back to work, Blue. How about you come back tomorrow evening. It’s pretty slow on Sundays. We’ll get you a little training.”

“Sounds like a plan, boss,” Blue responded.

***

The strip-joint-looking place really was a strip joint. Blue knew when she walked past it for a second time, when the blazing sun was beginning to fall at the end of the valley, and a wide-set bouncer newly positioned at the entrance hit her with “You looking for a job, honey?”

“If only you’d asked me a few hours ago,” Blue responded, stuffing her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and continuing on down the street.

She poked her head into a couple of boutiques. In one she bought herself a new pair of sunglasses, just before the store was about to close, to replace the ones whose frames she’d bent just a few days ago. She slid them into her hair on the top of her head as she stepped back out onto the sidewalk. The sun still wasn’t down, but it was falling, and somehow she was already growing hungry again. Probably because she never finished her onion rings.

Blue trailed up the strip to the neon-lit diner that read “Shelly’s.” She stepped through the door to find it filled with teenagers. Some on dates, some groups crowded into booths too small for the lot of them. There were only two tables left. Blue picked the one closest and threw herself down into the chair facing the windows. She drew out the notebook and pen that were tucked inside her leather jacket—all of which she’d collected from her motel room after she left The Five and Jive.

“What can I get you?”

Blue glanced up to find a waitress standing over her. She had big eyes framed by dark glasses, black, sharp bangs, and bright red lips that she licked at when she had Blue’s attention.

“Do you guys happen to have blueberry pie?”

The waitress—Ava, her name tag read—glanced toward the counter across the room and squinted her eyes. “I think we might just have one slice left. À la mode?”

“No, just the pie, please. Oh, and a black coffee.”

“Sure thing."

Blue opened up the faux leather cover of her notebook as she was left alone again and began to flip through the used pages until she found a blank one. Then she removed the cap of her pen with her teeth and scribbled, in fluid black ink, the date at the top left of the paper: Saturday, July 27, 2019.

She’d only jotted a few words down before Ava returned with a plate of warmed pie. The waitress set a mug on the table, beside the plate, and filled it from a pot of what Blue hoped was fresh coffee.

“Enjoy,” Ava said, withdrawing to fill more emptying mugs at the other tables.

Blue forked a bite of pie into her mouth and studied the diner’s floor as she chewed. The tiles were all different colors, arranged in patterns at some points and completely randomized at others, probably replaced and patched in countless times since this place opened. The pie was mediocre, just like The Five and Jive’s onion rings.

She blew over the lip of her mug, hoping to cool her steaming coffee just enough to take a short sip. The liquid still scalded the tip of her tongue. She teethed the spot, already growing sore, as she began to recount the day’s events, the people she’d met, the words that had been spoken.

Blue thought that perhaps Ava would stick out to her. A pretty, red-lipped waitress, the only person who hadn’t asked for her name all day, the one she’d spoken to most recently. Or even Leya, who was to be her new boss. And she did journal about both of them, along with Zayn. But she was surprised to find it was Harry who held most of her pen’s attention.

Blue didn’t even like him, she didn’t think. He’d been rather rude, acted like she’d inconvenienced him, as if her car’s decision to break down wasn’t an inconvenience to her. But there was something about the short clip of his words and the way that his eyes moved that she must have found interesting.

It was nearly an hour later when she finished writing down her thoughts of the day. Ava refilled her coffee twice. Now Blue’s mug sat half empty and the crust of her blueberry pie still sat on its plate, but she shelled out some cash for the food, along with a few dollars for a tip, and left the money on her table. She placed the chewed-up cap back on her pen and tucked it into her pocket, fitting her notebook under her arm, and left Shelly’s. Despite all the coffee, the day’s events had tired her out, and she craved the stiff sheets of an unfamiliar motel bed.

***

Blue slept late into Sunday afternoon. She awoke to the low glare of sunlight through the thin yellow motel curtains. She turned over, away from the windows, as she stretched against the day.

She was unsurprised by how late it was. The previous night she had driven straight through hoping to make it into the Carolinas before she needed to stop. But here she was stuck on the western end of Missouri, pointlessly deprived of sleep, bunkering down in the musty, scratchy sheets of Wolver Valley’s Red Roof.

Blue forced herself out of bed when she saw the red numbers on the side table’s digital clock. Leya hadn’t given her a time to be at The Five and Jive, but Blue wasn’t going to burn her bridges on the first full day in town. She showered to rinse of the scent of long car rides—the inevitable scent of a traveler. She slipped into a pair of jeans, a thin t-shirt, her worn-in boots, and pulled the front of her hair out of her face, still damp. She clicked the door to her motel room shut behind her and headed off, munching on the rest of her farm market strawberries on the way.

The sun, even from the far end of the valley, was hot on Blue’s back until she reached the corner of the street and turned right. The crowds at the bar really were thinned out tonight, although she was sure they would pick up at least a little before the evening was through. But for now the parking lot was nearly empty. Just a few cars, and on the bit of pavement just in front of the windows, a bike that struck a familiar chord in Blue’s mind.

Her footsteps slowed as she approached the screen door, puffing on the last dregs of her cigarette. She scanned the motorcycle, glinting in the sunlight that seeped through the town’s shadows. She knew whose it was. That familiarity, after only being in town for less than a full day, made Blue uncomfortable, like there was something crawling just below the top layer of her skin. She crushed the sparks of her cigarette out into the pavement just in front of the rubber tire of the motorcycle before slipping into The Five and Jive.

The inside of the bar reflected its barren parking lot. A couple of old-timers were seated at the bar. Leya was wiping down the wood. And Harry was there, as Blue knew he would be, bent over the edge of the left-hand pool table, hair spilling around his face. Another man stood at the table’s corner, hands twisting around the stick clasped between them. A short blond sat on a stool that had been pulled across the room. She twisted the seat beneath her, apparently bored and impatient with the game being played out in front of her. Harry flashed a quick grin as she muttered something to him, revealing a deep dimple in one of his cheeks.

“Oh, good,” Leya said by way of greeting. “Perfect timing.”

Blue offered her a thin smile as she worked her way around to the other side of the bar, crushing the empty pulp basket that had once held her strawberries. She tossed the container into the trash can as she passed it and came to stop beside Leya.

“I’m gonna show you how to mix up some basic things,” said Leya. “But first, can you take these over to them?” She nodded toward the pool table as she pulled out a couple bottles of beer and began pouring tequila up to the rim of a shot glass. “You’ve already met Harry, right?”

Blue sighed as she took the beer bottles in one hand and carefully balanced the shot glass between her other fingers, trying to keep the alcohol from spilling. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Leya went back to wiping down the bar top. Blue took that as her cue. She spun on her heel and trailed across the room. Only the blond noticed her approach, eyeing the tequila shot in Blue’s hand and leaving her doubtless it was meant for her. Blue passed the shot over and was taken aback by how easily this tiny girl downed the alcohol without any type of chaser.

“Thank you,” the woman said.

Harry glanced up at the sound of her voice. The other man with them was still tilted forward, eye squinted as he lined up a shot and sent the cue ball across the table. It bounced off of the eight ball and then rolled into the corner pocket closest to Blue. He swore beneath his breath and then he was looking up, too.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Harry asked.

Blue chuckled drily and held out the beers in his direction. “Again with the rude greetings.”

He scratched the back of his neck and leaned forward to take one of the bottles. The other man traveled around the table to take the other, tipping his head toward her as he took a sip of beer.

“Right. Blue, this is Niall and Boston,” Harry introduced, gesturing respectively to the man beside him and the woman still perched atop her stool. “They work with me.”

Blue raised her eyes to Boston, barely more than five feet tall, eyes glazed over with the effects of alcohol and feet tapping to the rock drumbeat playing through the bar. Blue couldn’t picture her covered in grease and pulling apart the pieces of a car, but it was fun trying to conjure up the image.

“Ah, Blue,” said Niall after he’d swallowed his drink. "The one that tried to set the garage on fire. You know, we’ve already had our fill of arson in this town."

Blue raised her brows. “Is that so?"

"What’re yeh doin’ here?” Harry repeated, cutting Niall off before he could even reply. His bottle was hanging unsipped at his side.

Blue took the glass from Boston’s hand and rounded the table to collect the empty beers that Harry and Niall had already finished from a wooden shelf against the far wall. “I work here.”

“Leya hired you? Thought yeh weren’ stayin’.”

“Just for a week or so.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Boston spoke up from behind her. “You’ll miss the party.”

“Oh, yeah,” Niall echoed. “You should stay another week. Wolver Valley’s bicentennial is coming up. Boston’ll probably be drunk off her ass, but we can take you to the fair and—”

“No,” Harry interrupted again. The other three all turned to stare at him. He finally swallowed a mouthful of his beer and then shrugged. “She’s a traveler. Wants to get outta town. Rushin’ me to get a new exhaust pipe in and—”

“Actually, take your time,” Blue told him. She waved the empty beer bottles in her hand. “I might just stay a few more weeks. Could use the money.”

Harry slipped a hand through his hair as he surveyed her. He didn’t look pleased about the news. Niall, however, nodded in approval. Boston clicked her heels together before hopping down from her stool at last. She really was short, especially beside the two boys.

“Perfect,” she said. “Could you get me one more shot, Blue? It’s my turn to kick Harry’s ass.” She peeled the stick from Niall’s fingers and began re-racking for a new game. “And also, if I could bum a cigarette when you go out for a smoke, I would really appreciate it."

Blue nodded and turned back toward the bar. She dropped the empty bottles in the receptacle that Leya directed her to and then poured out another glass of tequila for Boston. She felt Harry’s eyes on the side of her face, even as she trailed back over to the pool table, where Boston was breaking. And on her back as she returned with the empty shot glass. Hot like fire. The heat only faded as Harry lined up his own shot, and it didn’t return for the rest of Blue’s shift.

[the-pan-ace-writings]

Chapter 8 Into the fire

 First Previous  Masterlist

Tag list:

Authors Note:  

 Hey y'all so sorry for the late update, things got busy with finals and traveling and unfortunately when coming back hope I shipped my computer and it was severely damaged in post and I've had to rebuild it. But that should be up and running soon, currently I've borrowed my mothers laptop to finish for y'all. Also I wanted to say that I've added a set of armor into the story that is personally my favorite in game through a mod, when I get my computer back online Ill post what it looks like so they y’all have a better idea, buts its the Ranger armor that you would find in Kellogg's home. Anyway Happy Holidays !

   MacCready made sure to be up and out of the bed before Riona woke up, not wanting to have to figure out his feelings at the moment. He didn't quite understand what he got himself tangled into and he figured he'd deal with it when this problem was resolved. MacCready pulled his cap back on and took the dog outside with him as he went to light a smoke, leaving behind his duster as so it didn't seem he bailed out. 

   He was leaning against one of the posts outside watching the bustle of Diamond City even before the sun had risen all the way. Dogmeat had settled down at his boots, leaning against this legs watching the people, MacCready was watching the curl of smoke rise above him. Riona stepped out from behind them, both packs in hand and his duster over her shoulder. She passed over his pack and duster and slung hers over her shoulder. 

   “Are you ready?” Her voice was harsh, clearly still torn up from crying, her eyes were dark and her hair was messy compared to her normal no strand out of place bun, instead the bun was half out and was loose at the base of her neck, snow white hair falling out to frame her face and was pushed behind her ears. She must have fallen asleep with it last night and neither of them had noticed. 

   “Sure thing” He crushed the cigarette on the post and shrugged on the rest of his gear. “Nick wants us to meet him at his office” He started taking the lead, Riona trailed behind him watching Dogmeat weave between the both of them. 

   Nick was exiting his office as they got here, tugging his faded fedora down and pulled the lapels of his trench coat closer, it was noticeably getting colder over the past week. 

   “I'll lead the way.” Nick turned from them and started down the alley towards Kellogg's house. It took them a few minutes to get there, Riona had sent Dogmeat a head to keep him from her feet and she glanced around the small group she had. MacCready was adjusting his scarf that she previously hadn't noticed, and looking over at Nick there was a distinct lack of breath curling from him unlike the rest of the group. Riona was slowly starting to regret was that she was currently wearing but settled to deal with it at a later time. 

   They approached the stairs and catwalk leading to an older looking door, Nick tried the handle jiggling it before huffing in frustration. 

   “We’re going to need a key.” MacCready had opened his mouth to object when Riona walked up to the door and knelt pulling a bobby pin from a pocket along with a screwdriver and jimmied it into the locking mechanism it took her mere seconds to get it open, standing with a small swell of confidence before she realized what they were about to walk into.

   “I didn't know you could do that! We’ve traveled together for how long? And you've never done that?” MacCready sounded surprised and jokingly bumped into her his tone friendly. 

   “Don't you worry bout’ that” she swung the door open and pulled her sword from her hip. “After y’all”  She gestured for them to pass in front of her, Dogmeat trotted in happily while Nick tilled his hat to her with a comment of how he could use her skills. She closed the door after MacCready and stepped into the dusty residence, the light coming to a flicker. 

   The home was more of a metal tin shack, built mostly with metal barn siding which was almost completely rusted, paper and some wood covered the flooring and sparse furniture covered the room. It hardly looked liked a place for a kid to grow up. There was a lofted area with a low ceiling with a mattress covered in threadbare sheets, in short the place looked pitiful and sad. It filled Riona with dread that a child was raised here. The desk was the most amount piece of furniture in the room and the most stable, it was built of a heavy wood that's managed to last the years and it was covered in papers, though most too old to make use of anymore or useless to start with. 

   Riona was close to leaving in frustration at finding nothing that seemed to be helpful to them until Dogmeat started scratching at one of the paneled walls. MacCready had walked over to inspect it closer. 

   “Riona, this looks like it could open” He called over his shoulder as Nick came closer to it. 

   “There's probably a switch somewhere in here” 

   Riona started scouring the room looking for anything remotely like a switch or mechanism to open the door. SHe quickly sound the button hidden underneath the desk after she crawled under it. 

   The panel opened with a rattle and it grated against the floor as it opened to let them in. The moment she entered the room she left ice hit the bottom of her stomach and felt a shiver run up her spine. The room was clearly a torture area and arsenal. It was clear that it was in use and likely that he used the facility during his time “raising” the stolen children. Riona just shook her head in defeat before entering and inspecting the room. The was a lawn chair propped up in one of the filtering lights of the room, a table and a cigar tray sat on top of it. 

   She dismissed it upset and continued searching and at this point looting the room. He’d have no use of anything here left abandoned so she would. She was crouched down working on a safe lock when Nick exclaimed. 

   “San Francisco Sunlights? That's an awful rare brand.” He picked up the cigar and rolled it in his hands before leaning down to Dogmeat having him sniff it. 

   “You think that dogs will be able to trace that? Do you have any idea how long this place has been abandoned Nick?” MacCready stepped away from a rack of rifles on the wall after swiping a scope. Nick just shook his head. 

   “You’d be surprised at how well this dog can find things.” 

   Riona turned from the safe, sat plum on her bottom legs splayed out on either side of the safe looking up at Nick. 

   “How wouldcha’ know?” She had an extra bobby pin tucked into the corner of her mouth. 

   “You're not the first one to encounter this dog, he's a man of his own.” He left it at that waiting for her and MacCready to clear the room of any goods they saw fit. 

   It took her a moment but she worked the safe open and exclaimed in excitement when she pulled out one of the Ranger Uniforms she’d only seen on the most elite forces. Upon further inspection of the uniform she saw it was decently modified and had the boot, helmet and mask. She was nearly shaking with excitement when she pulled it out and showed it off to the others explaining what it was. 

   “You're gonna keep that right? I don't think you'll find anything nice again.” MacCready was enthused at the find as well. She nodded vigorously having forgotten her normally stoic behavior, all she could think of was the war heroes of her time who got to wear a uniform like this. She insisted on putting it on before they left to follow the trail that Dogmeat had traced. 

   She stepped out of the metal home in the well fitting clothes. She had on the heavy metal chest piece on two bandoliers where strapped on the front of that, a tactical belt held her sword and a few other gadgets, thick boots added some height at sounded heavy when landing on the catwalk, a high collar leather trench cloaked her, metal was wrapped around her forearms. And the Cherry on top for her was the helmet and the mask with an intimidating red glare from the eye protection, which was currently hanging from her belt, the helmet was strapped to her ruck, not wanting to leave it behind but not wanting to wear it right now. 

   She was absolutely beaming, and MacCready took the moment he had to look down at her. Her white hair was a stark contrast to the mostly dark leathers and fabrics, she still looked tired but the glow of excitement settled a pleasant feeling over him. He coughed and back at Nick. 

   “Are you ready?” They both looked over at Riona who suddenly seemed to come back to the situation, MacCready was just glad to have seen her take a moment to herself. She nodded soberly and commanded Dogmeat to lead the way, she followed after.

   They had not followed the trail for long until they had found a small little sitting area under an umbrella table with another one of the San Francisco Sunlight Cigars, Riona took it and bent to allow Dogmeat to sniff it again. He took off running again and after following bloody rags to the entrance of Fort Hagen. 

   Riona looked up at the solid building, it was clearly extremely defended, and getting in was going to be difficult. She looked over to Nick and MacCready who both already had weapons drawn, and both looked mildly anxious. She tried the front door to get in and it was locked, she grimaced and looked around before heading off to where she thought she could in time through an exit door in the underground parking lot. 

   They crowded around the door, she could already hear skittering around in the building. She looked over to the both of them and nodded, and reached for the mask. It covered her from the eyes down, similar to how she used to wear her bandanna, her voice was modulated when she talked and all MacCready could think of was how intimidating she looked like that. 

   "Yall ready?” She pulled on Dogmeats collar who wiped excitedly, MacCready clasped her on the shoulder before stepping back and adjusting the sites on his rifle.  “Then let's make this short.” 

   She threw the door open and everything broke into chaos. 

Next 

Authors Note

Thank you for reading! I hope to update as soon as possible, I'm always looking for feedback or suggestions. IF you don't like hoe this is going feel free to comment and Ill take it into consideration in the future. Also If anyone would like to Beta these that would be radical just let me know. Happy holidays y'all

[stevieang]

May I Have This Dance? Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston RPF x Plus-Size Reader Insert

Word Count: 3000

Warnings: If too much sweet fluffiness isn’t your thing, then keep on going.This is full-on no-holds-barred fluff, though this chapter throws in some angsty goodness at the end, an homage to @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

Tags:   @3dsaunt  @andiyholly  @averyrogers83  @babybluesunsets @bettercallsabs @brittyevans  @brookebarnes @captain-rogers-beard @cecygee   @csrfavs   @docharleythegeekqueen  @dorito-distractions  @everythingisoverrated  @fabicchi  @favhearts  @flawless-disaster  @gifsbysimplysonia @hazeleyedgirl7   @hennessy0274-blog @inumorph @jaguars2007  @jaamesbbarnes @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety  @janeyboo @joshburtonhellzyess  @jouhainak @learisa @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @lilylovescomics   @lojo83   @lookwhatyoumademequeue  @lostinspace33  @madicardi  @magellan-88   @mamapeterson   @me-a-hopeless-romantic  @meyoko10  @mindingmyownbusiness @mizzzpink @mywritingsblog @nomadicpixel  @part-time-patronus @patzammit @pinkieandthebrain1 @redqueen1221 @sebbytrash  @sgtjbuccky  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan  @stark-spangled-banner-man  @st-eve-barnes @stillherebiandabitch @sunriserose1023 @suz-123 @the-real-kellymonster    @tutis24 @winterismyfavoriteseason1945  @winters-beauty @yaykitty3

Summary: Two of your best friends are getting married and you have the honor of singing at their wedding.  At the reception you’re approached by a famous friend of the groom, Tom Hiddleston.  Much polite flirting ensues. Here’s the “more to come.” Enjoy!

A/N: Hey y’all!  Thank you so much for your time, your kind words, and all the good stuff you send my way! I am loving this fic now, and though this chapter took me a long time to start, it flowed once I did.  This chapter has a lot of things I hold dear to my heart - American Sign Language and those that use it.  I’ve included a few links to YouTube videos that showcase Deaf theatre and Deaf actors.  If you’ve never seen people using sign language “in real life” this will give you an idea of the energy it can give off when you see it!  They are all captioned - equal access for all!

Chapter 3:

Tom turned over in bed, trying to stretch away the kinks from a poor night’s sleep.  He had tossed and turned, thinking about you - your joy, the kind, honest way you spoke, and how you made him feel things he hadn’t felt in awhile. He couldn’t shake the feeling of a missed opportunity; that he had lost the chance of some great “bolt of lightning” moment by not having kissed you. Yet.

________

Another morning, another first thought of Tom maybe kissing you one of these days.  That dreamy train of thought was quickly derailed by your videophone alerting you had a call.  You barely had time to grab your glasses and pull your hair up before accepting the call, but thankfully Jason had seen you right after rolling out of bed when you were roommates.  

Jason: Is HE with you?

You: Good morning to you, too.  No.

Jason: Why not? It was clear how much he liked you.

You: Just was really tired last night, wasn’t the right time.

Jason: You sure that’s it? You ok?

You had known Jason for too long and subtlety was not a specialty.

You: J, don’t worry, it’s all good.  I’m gonna change the subject - when and where tonight?

As you figured out what the evening was going to bring, your text alert sounded. Tom.  

Jason wiggled his eyebrows and signed off, making you chuckle.

TWH: Good morning

You: Good morning, did you sleep well?

TWH: Somewhat.  Hard time falling asleep.

You: I’m sorry, I hate when that happens.  What are you up to today?

The conversation bubble popped up, then disappeared, then started bubbling again.  Your stomach called for breakfast so you left your phone, washed your face, pulled on your jeans, and made your way out the door. The bubble was still percolating as you opened the door and stepped out backwards to make sure it was locked.  You yelped and apologized as your backside connected with someone in the hall.  

“Oh my God, I’m so…” Your card key flew out of your hand as you turned around, hearing a familiar baritone chuckle and a set of familiar hands holding your waist.

“Sorry I startled you, darling.  I hoped I could convince you to join me for breakfast.”  His eyes found the key card as you stepped back towards your door, and his fingers barely grazed the top of your hand as he handed it over.  While you fiddled with the card to avoid his eyes, your goosebumpy flesh betrayed his effect on you.  

Your smile was tired, but real.  “You didn’t have to come all this way, I would’ve met up somewhere.”  Though it wasn’t your intent, your voice must have relayed something that made him step back.

He hung his head for a moment and you saw something new - seriousness.  “I’m sorry.  I made an assumption that you’d be needing breakfast, as well.  Of course, I should have asked before showing up.”

The tops of your shoes touched his and you entwined your right hand with his left as you sought out his eyes.  “A heads up would’ve been nice.  I might’ve put in a little more effort when I got ready, but seeing you here is wonderful.  Thank you for making the effort.”  He brightened - and not just his smile or his eyes, but his entire countenance that stayed lit the entire ride to the restaurant.  

The morning was so easy, so real.  You were both tired, so neither of you was trying to filter too much, try too hard, or impress the other.  Breakfast at an out of the way diner almost became a Comic Con event when Tom was recognized, but he sidestepped the hoopla by posing for a few photos, signing autographs, and making wonderfully genial small talk that made all his fans feel heard and special.

When you were safely ensconced in a cab, taking an unofficial sightseeing tour, you remarked how impressed you were by the way he treated his fans.

“It must be so difficult when people see you as one character, but you never seem to begrudge it.  In just a few days I’ve seen you be completely courteous, charming, and generous with anyone that approaches you.  It means something when you treat people nicely when you don’t have to.”

That famous smile made an appearance.  “What exactly, pray tell, does it mean to you?”

Red spots bloomed across your cheeks as you rested your fingers on his leg, “That you were raised to treat everyone with kindness and respect.”

He dropped his head forward and covered his hand with yours.  “Thank you.  I am grateful for my fans.  I recognize that I would be in a different place in my career without them, but to be honest, the attention sometimes makes it difficult when I want to spend time with someone special.” He reached for the hand you were resting on his thigh and looked straight through you.  

You were still.  Your thoughts were silent, your feelings calm.  The driver, on the other hand, took the lull in the conversation as a springboard for a rambling narrative about the various sights.  You both let out the breaths you were holding and laughed.  The rest of the drive was spent learning about D.C. and talking about the plans to meet up with your friends at a Deaf Theatre Company production of “Romeo and Juliet” that night.

While waiting for Tom, you checked yourself in the mirror.  You had pampered yourself - a nap, a luxuriating bath in the jet stream tub, and enough time to look your best.  You only had the clothes you’d packed, but you were able to piece together red pants, a black top and faux-diamond accessories.  The outfit along with your styled up-do and somewhat dramatic makeup made you feel more alive than you had in years.

Tom’s knock sent your stomach flipping, and his outfit - navy slacks and jacket with a crisp white shirt underneath and, of course, the glasses - may have caused heart palpitations.  His face was soft and caring as he complimented your outfit and handed you a beautiful white rose.

“Shall we?” and his ever-offered arm led you to the waiting car, where you shared how nervous you were, provoking a suspicious look.

Your fears tumbled out without stopping.  “I’m afraid I’ve built this up too much, and you won’t be as astounded as I think you’ll be, then that’ll just cause a shame spiral about how I wasted your evening.”  His face easily slid from questioning to playfully mocking and had you laughing and leaning back on the headrest before you even finished the sentence.  He turned a bit, taking your left hand in both of his and letting his leg rest against yours.

“No matter how good or not, what I’m most excited about is that it’s a new experience, a new way of bringing the words and feelings to the audience.  After the little bit I saw last night, I can only imagine the kind of energy an immersive signing experience will have.”

Watching two people sign is one thing, but being thrust into a space full of people using their bodies, voices, and faces to communicate is quite another.  You made sure to keep an eye on Tom, as his eyes rapidly scanned the lobby, his gaze unable to rest on one place.  You quickly found Jason and his boyfriend surrounded by your friend group from grad school.  You had time to introduce them all before the show - you signed for yourself and Tom, and voiced for everyone that signed to him.  You were sweating by the time you sat down and looked forward to the show, while Tom held tight to your hand and let you help him adjust his assistive listening device that channeled the interpreter’s voices.

A performance in American Sign Language is silent, which is an eerie feeling for a hearing person.  It took you years to get used to it, but now it was second nature.  You could tell Tom was trying to reconcile what he saw with what he heard and what he had done when performing the play, which was a huge amount of input and work for his brain.   You whispered the same advice you’d received when you were inaugurated into this world.

“Close your eyes, Tom.  Your brain doesn’t know how to process all the visual information, and it’s likely you’ll get a headache if you keep focusing on what you’re hearing and seeing with such intensity.  Just take little breaks from looking and then come back to it when you feel ready.”  His smile was weary, and he kissed your forehead and whispered his thanks before doing just as you suggested behind his steepled hands.  At the intermission you excused yourselves from the group and took him outside to a secluded area where you could speak to each other without excluding anyone who could not hear.  You handed him a drink, sat next to him, and held his hand.

“You ok? We can leave if it’s getting to be too much.”  He lifted his head and looked at you with an intensity you only recognized from his work.

“Absolutely not.  This….this...defies description.”  The fierceness of his stare sent shivers down your neck and arms.  “As do you.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours, his hand behind your neck urging you to stay lost in the kiss, which you were more than happy to do.  When you unlocked from each other, you rested your foreheads together by some unspoken arrangement.

Your text alert sounded.  “It’s Jason, intermission is over.”

He stood, buttoned his jacket, and tugged on the hem before offering you his hand, giving you a much softer kiss before escorting you back inside.  Jason and company did not wait more than 30 seconds before starting the inquisition via text after you sat down.  

Jason: Did you just make out with him?

You: Did you seriously just make this a group text?

Jason: We were ALL thinking it, so YES.  

Tina: Answer the question!

You: Maybe

Jason: Told you! I knew it! You go girl!

You: I’m turning off my phone. I love you guys.

Tom leaned over and kissed your temple while holding your hand.  You squeezed back and filled him in on your nosy but loving friends.  That smile.

“It was worth an inquisition.”  He turned back to the stage as the curtain rose, feeling your excitement build.

You gladly accompanied Tom backstage to meet the cast and crew, who were starstruck and grateful for his praise.  He asked questions that caused a flurry of hands and voices that made him laugh in appreciation of its energy.  He answered their questions, many about his own Shakespearean work, that made them nod.  He asked the director for his info, and remarked that though he might need a bit of a break from all the visual input, he could not wait to experience another play in ASL.  You both took your leave to meet up with your friends at a local pub, Tom excitedly talking about the show and pulling you into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

You slid into the backseat of the Uber and leaned back, your eyes closed, while Tom continued sharing his thoughts on the evening.  You realized he was no longer talking and lolled your head to the left, met his eyes, and smiled as he quieted.

“I’m sorry for the running on, darling, this is all new for me.  I can’t wait to think about it, learn more about it.  He closed the miniscule distance between you and kissed you while your eyes fluttered shut.  Your right hand gently laid against his cheek as you assured him you were thrilled that it lived up to all your hype and that yes, you were up to meeting your friends out for dinner.

The long table stretched across the largest part of the pub’s eating area and you guided Tom to sit where he would be able to hear you interpreting what was being signed.  He thought it was a good spot to give you a discreet kiss or two, but he had something else to learn about Deaf people - there wasn’t much that slipped by them.  You laughed and blushed and edited the snarky (but well-meant) comments directed at you, but that didn’t stop him from keeping his hands on or near you and nuzzling your neck when you weren’t actively signing.  You were happy.

Dinner was loud, fun, and over the top, like most Deaf-friendly events that included alcohol and a group of people who could all understand each other.  You did your best to keep him in the loop and participate in the conversation in your own way, only stopping to eat and drink and take a break or two to get some fresh air.  

When you were outside taking a minute to let your brain rest, Tom followed, sidled up next to you and held your face carefully in his hands.

“You are such a rare woman.  Thank you for tonight and thank you for letting me kiss you before, and now.” You eagerly met him, only to be interrupted by the group waving and shouting to get your attention.

His smile was tired. “I guess we’re being paged?”  You decided you would go in, say your goodnights, and head back to the hotel, but you were sidetracked by the promise of dessert.  As you shared warm pie and ice cream with your date, Jason banged on the table to get everyone’s attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we are together to celebrate the fantastic performance of Romeo and Juliet.  Good friends, good food, and good times make me feel very lucky and, on a personal note, I want to welcome back my best friend and former roommate, who we’ve all missed so much.”

As everyone cheered, you toasted the table, and agreed how nice it was to share the time with them.  Jason wasn’t done yet, though.  He looked directly at you with nothing but love in his eyes.

“I want to tell you, my dear one, how happy we all are that you’ve brought Tom with you and that you are happy.  We all miss him, but I know your John is looking down and smiling at your happiness.”

Your words stopped coming for Tom’s benefit as you watched Jason be happy for you.  He looked at your face, devoid of color, and your chest, rising and falling more quickly than it had been.

“You ok?”

You shook your head with a tiny, quiet side-to-side nod as the rest of the table looked at you.  The lack of movement and voices and energy clued Tom in that something was wrong.  As he looked at you with concern, you assured him you were fine, scooted to the edge of the seat, and hurriedly excused yourself to the restroom.  You were gone from the table no more than one minute after Jason started his speech.

Tom looked at Jason and pointed to your path, asking what happened with only an expression.  Other hearing people at the table took over signing for him and voicing for the others.  Jason started where he left off.

“I’m not sure.”

“I don’t think so, she was fine, then you mentioned someone looking down at her, seeing how happy she is, and she just stopped translating.”  Jason took a deep breath in and out, trilling his lips and shutting his eyes for a minute.  He looked at Tom and nodded, before signing.

“Shit.  Yes, John.  Her husband.”

Now it was Tom’s turn to stop cold.  “I’m sorry, what? She’s married?” Thoughts rushed through his brain that didn’t add up.  Now a headache was upon him.  He shook his head and looked at Jason again, a table full of people following his every move with their eyes.

“She WAS married, yes.  John was another one of our roommates, my best friend.  A little while after they graduated and moved into their own place, he got sick.  He was gone too soon.”

Tom was reeling.  He had known you for all of a few days, you didn’t owe him your life’s story, but your reaction to Jason’s comment had him wondering how recent this loss was, how much you were still hurting.  He stood, ready to check on you, when you walked up, coat and bag in hand.  Jason got to you first and no one translated.

“Oh my God love I am so so sorry, please believe me.  I never meant to upset you, to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t, J.  I’m surprised how hard it hit me.  I think I should go back to the hotel.”

“Let me go with you.” and he turned to grab his coat.  You banged your hand on the table to get his attention.

“No.  I want to be alone.”  He looked at you, hurt on his face.  You smiled weakly and assured him nothing was going to happen to you, that you just wanted to sit with your feelings for awhile, alone.

“Let me say goodnight to everyone.  Please stay and enjoy yourself.  For me.” You waved to everyone who understood what you had just said and turned to Tom, who was standing in wait with his coat over his arm.

“Let’s go, darling.  I’ll get you back to the hotel.” As kind as that was, you needed to be alone with your memories, sit with your feelings, and move on.  You couldn’t do that while trying to make other people feel comfortable with your sadness.  You asked him to walk you out, but then asked for what you needed - time alone.  You kissed his cheek and softly apologized for how the evening ended, slipping into the cab and closing your eyes as you drove away.

Tom watched you drive away, quickly thanked everyone, and made his exit.  He’d planned to take you to see the World War II Memorial, he’d been told it was a beautiful thing to see at night, but instead was  thinking about your face, how hurt and sad you were, and wondered how he could help, if you would let him help.

Tom: I hope you find your peace tonight, darling.

You: Thank you Tom.  I hope so, too.

Tom: Can I check in on you later?

You: Maybe tomorrow? I think I’ll go to bed early.

Tom: Of course.  I have your number ;)

Chapter 4