#it will also be untagged until I’m able to fix it

[awakefor48hours]

[ballsballsbowls]

I suspect my insights into the new tumblr Core Product Strategy are no dumber than anyone else’s. To be fair, I workshopped an idea in my gc a couple of years ago that was nearly identical to Blaze, so while I don’t have my finger of the pulse of the youth, I have had a few good guesses what would fix tumblr. 

I understand they are kind of frantically balancing the needs of Someone Like Me (a 2013 sign-on who will be here until they shut the lights off and posts a good bit if not in a way that gets viewed and reads a lot more than 25 posts on the average day AND is like 80% browser user which like...seriously, use fucking browser it’s so much better) with the kind of Line Go Up forever growth that justifies spending money on a fucking sinkhole like tumblr.

I am also very interested in seeing if they can improve their algorithmic content because I’d be interested in the algorithmic content (explore, for you, even if they added something else I’d be interested as long as I have a chronological followers-only feed as one of my options). But I don’t use these things unless I’m desperate to Look At Post because...the algorithm is either very very good or very very bad, in that it nearly always serves up posts I’ve been seeing all day (so points for guessing what I am already seeing) but had no interest in interacting with. 

Please tumblr I WANT to see more posts I am not already seeing. I cannot look at the same out of context undated twitter screencaps passing as political commentary all day every day. I just also want the option to not see that shit in my chronological dash. In tumblr’s heyday I never hit my post limit but I was posting upwards of 100 posts a day, and now you rarely get double digits from me because there is simply not that much interesting content.

Unsure about the threaded comments. I think it COULD work but I’m unsure if it will depending on how it’s implemented.

ALSO pleased to see The App on their list. The app is dogshit and it’s been dogshit for a couple of years now. It’s genuinely hard to SEE more than 30-40 posts on the app in an WHOLE DAY of intermittent scrolling because of the app’s tendency to freeze/crash/only show you those 30-40 posts no matter what you do. I have mutuals who LEFT TUMBLR because they were app-only users and the app just got so unpleasant to use they quit tumblr, and I’m sure they are not the only people who did so.

I desperately would like more control over who follows me/who can interact with me/who can interact with my posts. I’d love a native mute function, especially something that would let me choose how long I don’t want to see posts for. Sometimes I just need like five days so they can get their untagged blorbo stuff out and I don’t have to see it, you know? 

I’d love an option to not allow blank blogs to follow me, or blogs newer than 7 days, or blogs that have NEVER generated an original post (which also tend to be spam). You have everyone’s birthdays now, you should be able to generate a “nobody under 18 according to the account birthday can follow” (I care less about that but I also am not generating much of my own content.) 

tl;dr I am not sure the issue is tumblr is difficult for new people, but I think a slow, buggy app and the lack of new and different stuff on the site is what keeps them from coming back. 

[dappersheep]

Food Fantasy: An Analysis on what killed a Golden Goose (3/3)

Ladies and gentlemen, we've arrived at our final destination.

Again before we start, we have our obligatory disclaimers. I do not own the game or its characters, nor do I claim to know the true history and likely fate of this game. I am entitled to the thoughts and opinions written within this post. Feel free to agree or disagree with the points being made.

This post also remains untagged from the main foofan tag. Only my followers will see this.

We are in the third and final stretch, and the checkpoint is past the cut.

Community

So... here we are, fellow Master Attendants.

As consumers of this piece of entertainment media, we are free to enjoy it however we wish. Appreciating what is there, creating something new from what exists, playing the game by the meta or however you want to play it (within your means and at your own risk of course). There's no one true and absolute way to experience the game.

However, just as you can enjoy something, doesn't mean you can't also point out flaws or shortcomings of the media in question. As an active veteran player, I've already pointed out the many gameplay design flaws  already. And I'd be pretty dumb to say that Food Fantasy's writing is perfect. Hell, it has a lot of holes from a worldbuilding consistency standpoint. 

And what of things from the community side? Yes, there will be times you'd see content you consider cringe, or something in fanon you don't agree with. Or there happens to be fan theories and fangirling posts you don't like the take of because of X or Y.

And that's fine. If we all happen to play the same way, like the same thing, agree on the same thing and produce the same thing, well, this would be one helluva boring community, wouldn't it?

But what if someone decides the way you're playing the game is wrong and harasses you over it? What happens if someone decides that their interpretation of the game's flavor text and lore is more important than what anyone else thought about it? What happens if someone decides that they're absolutely right, and you and everyone else who disagrees deserves to be bullied out of the fandom?

As much as I want to say we aren't part of the problem why the game is deteriorating, we are unfortunately, part of the reason why the game is as such even if most of the blame is directed towards Funtoy and Elex themselves.

⦁ Whale Authority. Whales will always be part of a gacha game's ecosystem. Without them, the game won't be able to maintain its upkeep costs, moreso  for one that services global regions instead of just one. But when a game decides to cater its decisions of what features should be prioritized and when it should be launched around only its most elite paying players' voices  -even if that influence has since tapered off-, you know there is something wrong with the publisher's management team and priorities.

⦁ Interguild drama. While I did not personally follow any of this, this has certainly been the peak of in-game tension back in the day. Poaching good players from both competitive and smaller guilds, guild mergers that often ended up making the annexed guild/s the equivalent of UK colonized India or Australia, suck-ups chummying up to guild leaders to keep a spot in an active, high ranking guild (for bragging rights!) despite never contributing much to overall damage, and just general dislike of certain players' attitudes. Actions like this have disillusioned many players about their playing experience and the reason why many eventually just lost the motivation to log into FooFan.

⦁ Cheaters. You know very well about the Hacker-teme I've mentioned before, but that was in context of Elex being incompetent with dealing with them. Here, I would like  to point out the players who are desperate to dominate  the playing field for whatever reason to the point that they would resort to cheating the ranks with forceful modifications of the APK. Whether it is to rank high in catacombs weekly, get a top spot in daily disaster damage, or weasel their way into the competitive whale ranks of a major ranking event, these are the people who have no qualms messing with the code to give themselves an easier time with the game. And if they're caught? Some pretend that they've made a mistake, some quickly sell the account to escape the blame, some others just scamper away into the dark and hide in the lower ranks where they can't be found. Others simply don't care and keep cheating until Elex decides to finally ban them... if Elex ever decides their rebates score isn't worth saving the account.

⦁ Ship wars. Ah yes, a staple of drama in any fandom. There doesn't need much explanation to this as we've all had our fair share of running into a battleground in whatever fandom we visit. Someone ships BB52 wholeheartedly? Nope, problematic 'age gaps'. Someone likes Napoleon with Pastel? Someone's bound to misinterpret their bios in order to justify that Napoleon was being abusive. Spaghetti and Borscht? Borscht is minor coded, ship her with Vodka instead. Whiskey and Pizza or Cassata? Cancelled! And I've never heard of the Foe Yay trope or pretend I don't know about it! Rarepairs? Disgusting! No fanon in my canon playground! Turkey and Eggnog? Gasp! How dare you, you pedo-shipper-even-though-you-never-said-you-shipped-them-romantically-but-that-isn't-my-point!

⦁ Character Obsession: Bias. On one hand, you love a character so much. Relate to a character so much. You have thus pulled this character into the folds of your bosom and coo at them like a mother dove and get so minutely triggered if someone so much as makes one disagreeable or joking comment about the character that you fly into an overreactive ballistic rage that would make a Canadian goose honk in fear. You don't care what they are in canon. You don't care about the possibility of mistranslation. What matters is the fanon space you carved out for them to exist in and that's all that matters. The problem with this is when this obsession takes over common sense and social etiquette and it steps into harassment territory. You begin to think: I'm the only one who 'understands' the character. I'm the only one who wishes better for the character, everyone else is out to defame them! Oh wait, you like them too? Do you like them the way *I* like them? No? Maybe if you're my 'friend', I'd let it slide. But to everyone else? No one else has the right to like them as much as I do. No one! Never mind that they're completely fictional- No one hurts my bias because in turn, they're hurting *me*!

⦁ Character Obsession: Anti. On the other hand, you hate a character so much. This character just makes you see so much red. Their smug little smirk just makes your blood boil. Their fictional backstory makes you recoil in disgust. You hate that someone else loves a character you hate so much.  You cannot *believe* that someone could be so daringly stupid to like a problematic character. They must be problematic too then. They must be hiding real life secrets that are problematic! Yes, yes. That's right. That person's a supporter of abuse. That person's into pedophilia. That person is into military lolita fashion that Japan started the trend of but clearly Japan was part of the Axis Powers! And that... that person... that person... is a roleplayer and a yaoi fangirl properly interacting with minors and adults. How dare they...!

⦁ Fan Translations.  Normally it wouldn't be a problem that a group or two or several are translating pieces of the game's lore ahead of the official. But with Elex's very delayed translations and extreme allergic reactions to translating Food Soul bios, people have become dependent on fan-translation groups to get their fix. The problem herein lies... is when the translators get drunk off the power that they are one of a handful in a small community who can magically transcribe the oriental moonrunes into English. The problem starts when the translator starts to have an inclination. The problem starts when the translator loses their professional detachment and start adding in details here and there into the fan translated product that ultimately changes the meaning and direction of the entire story. The problem is also escalated when that translator's embellished product is touted as the truth by their followers. If there was an upcoming character whose backstory is connected to a character they hated (either because of someone or they just don't like the character) and you were hoping to read the fan translation? How would you know that what you get isn't something doctored to the point it's basically fanfiction?

⦁ Social Justice Vigilantism. Sometimes someone does not have a character obsession or need it to be annoying. Sometimes, someone just wants to ring the alarm over something they find 'problematic' in order to police and sanitize the enjoyment of the media for 'everyone'. They no longer really take enjoyment out of a new Food Soul design being leaked, they no longer read the lore just to enjoy what it has to offer. Instead, they nitpick bits and pieces of the design and point it out repeatedly as a reason why the whole thing is bad. They point out bits of the story and inject their interpretations of it without really comprehending what they've read in full and react badly to it. What's worse is that they have no qualms publicly posting their reactions and eagerly and hungrily await those likes and echoes of agreement that they were right.

⦁ Circles of Influence. Everyone has a group they eventually gravitate to in a fandom. It comes with its own pros and cons. Sometimes you join a group because someone you admire is in there, sometimes you join a group because you just want to mingle and see more content. All valid reasons. Arguments can't be avoided in a group, it has to happen... But you have to take care. You have to take care to feel the change in the air of the group. When someone starts pushing people to agree with them. When your most admired people start to feel overly sensitive about certain characters or issues. When you start to feel obligated to spy on other groups outside of this one for 'nonbelievers', 'traitors' and 'heretics' who do not think the way this group does, and that bringing back bits and pieces of gossip as offerings would somehow make you more favored in the eyes of the inner clique or remain inside it. There is a gripping sense of annoyance when that person comes in to complain but you can't do anything about it but nod and agree. There is a pervading sense of fear and apprehension of overstepping an invisible boundary. There is fear that you might be next on the chopping block, after witnessing one of the others being ganged up on and thrown out without a second thought, their name spat upon like they're worth less than dirt. And so reluctant you are to give up what you have with them that when they push you to do something you are reluctant to do, all in the name of 'harmony and justice'... You do it. Even though it would mean offering yourself up to the mob with no salvation, and the stark realization that... [they] never cared about you as a friend.

And we've come to the end of this analysis trilogy. The writing got a little bit strange in this post, but honestly this is the best way I could put it. I'm aware things can and will be more complicated than the bullet points I've written but I'm just one person and I tried very hard to keep details of all the drama that happened in this fandom as vague as possible. Of course, that wouldn't work if you know what I am talking about.

The community is quiet now for the most part, the game is somewhere between limbo and the living plane. Things could be better for us, but I don't really count on it.

I wish I could leave a bit of a moral warning or something. But rather than do that, I just hope this was an entertaining read into one individual's eyes into Food Fantasy and everything that makes it up.

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, yours (7) (M)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre:  family AU, hapkido teacher AU, PhD AU

Word count: 3.9K

Warnings: mature content, language, tiny bit of violence

A/N: Alright! BAEKHYUN SNAPPED! Its happening all now! And there is mature content! I never ever wrote this type of content before, so... it might be just bad and cringey. I apologize if it is too bad, I need to challenge myself in this one more haha! I always enjoy feedback so dont hesitate to reach out! <3 if you want to be tagged/untagged please let me know 💕 I am thankful for you all, who read this story!

Tag: @milky-baek @itsbaekhyunsbutt​

MASTERLIST

PARTS: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7

“Hm, this dinner thing,” Sukyeong started, tapping her index finger on her chin as she was thinking, staring at the email sent by the HR office. You looked at her expectantly, your mind not exactly present because you were thinking about something completely else. However, guessing she would have a serious question for you, you made sure to pay attention, until she blurted: “What will you wear?”

Hehe, you thought skeptically, something that is not hugging my body TOO MUCH. “Dunno,” you dismissed, waving your hand and turning back to your computer screen and back to drowning in your worries. Your cup of freshly brewed tea was still next to your mouse, waiting for it to be sipped, but you had little to no appetite that morning. “We received the email literally minutes ago, Sukyeong. I don't even know what will happen today in the evening.”

Your stomach had been flipping ever since you woke up and Baekhyun's morning kisses didn't soothe any of your nerves.

Sneaking a glance at Sukyeong, who was still deep in thought about what to wear for the upcoming event on Friday, you were desperately trying to figure out if you could tell her your worries. And also, let her know that way about your pregnancy. Would she run her mouth before you would get to speak to your boss?

She definitely wouldn't go against you, that you could state for sure.

Your stomach made yet another flip. Once you felt sweat starting to prickle down your neck, you knew immediately it was one of those mornings. Quickly jumping up, you were fast like lightning, swallowing on a dry throat as you tried to suppress your gag reflex.

Soon enough, you were over the toilet, emptying every single thing that went into your stomach yesterday (and it seemed like all the previous years, given how severe your gagging was). Flushing the toilet with you trembly hand, you took a rest for a bit on the floor, thankful for dressing up warmer (plus a big hoodie to hide your front) that day. The winter was fast approaching, and you couldn't have been more thankful. More reason to wear thicker clothes.

You were still breathing heavily when someone entered the toilets with hasty steps. You heard your name being called out, recognizing the voice as Sukyeong's.

“Are you in here?”

You swallowed, ignoring the familiar pain of your raw throat. “Yeah, I'm in here.”

“Are you okay?”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you felt the tightness of your skin from the dried up tears. One breath, two breaths. Scrambling back to your legs, you opened the door of the stall, meeting a worried face of your kind co-worker. She was surprised to see your pale face and you spotted your phone in her hand. You frowned.

“Your phone kept vibrating; Baekhyun was looking for you and you weren't showing up for a while,” she said quickly and stepped closer to you. “Are you okay? Did you eat something bad last night?”

You shook your head, your heart jumping painfully at the mention of the father of the children you were bearing and complicating your life. Without realising, your chin quivered dangerously and you took in a shaky breath, diamond-shaped tears rolling down your pale cheeks. “I'm pregnant, Sukyeong.” 

There, it was finally out.

“Oh goodness, I knew it! I so knew it!” she squealed, jumping slightly before hugging you. “Oh wait, drink some water,” she said and grabbed a little paper cup, filling it with filtered water on the corridor. She came back and you quickly swallowed, refreshing your burning insides.

“But I have a huge issue,” you continued, wiping your cheeks.

Only now she seemed to realize that you were crying for real. Crying, because something serious was happening. She didn't hesitate when she replied: “What is it? I will help you.”

-

“That piece of shit… he really made you promise him that? What a fucking TRASH!!!”

“I think the best would be if you tell him after dinner. He should be in a good mood. He might not kick you out.”

“We need to figure out what you can wear to hide the belly. It's not big yet, but still!”

“Oh my gosh, you are already this much in? Let me touch youuu!”

Sukyeong's endless support eased up your troubled mind. You were able to be much more relaxed and currently, you and Baekhyun were waiting for her to show up at your apartment to help you “fix the clothes” - you said that to the unsuspecting, innocent face of Byun Baekhyun.

“You look so good in jeans,” you mumbled appreciatively when Baekhyun emerged from the bathroom in nothing but dark-blue jeans, black underwear poking out,  his hair wet, and a towel around his neck.

Wow. Being pregnant and swooning over your loved one hit differently.

Your breath hitched in your throat. “It's supposed to be a family-friendly dinner. You can't go like this, young man!”

He laughed loudly as he walked lazily to you, your eyes still trained on his toned stomach. Damn. “Hey, beauty,” he whispered once he was standing right in front of you, your face now looking up at him. “Let me clean up that drool on your chin.” Smirking like a total flirt that he was, he leaned in and he poked out his tongue, running it up your chin before he pushed it into your mouth, your silent gasp only encouraging him more. His hold on your cheek was gentle, feather-like whilst his kiss was dirty; the exact opposite. You didn't need to be told twice.

Grabbing him by the neck, you pushed him towards you, his body now pressed up against you and your small belly, a delicious moean leaving your mouth when he wrapped his other hand around the low of your back, squeezing you.

“You are so sensitive to my touches. I really like you like this,” he whispered into your panting mouth. You opened your eyes just a little bit; his kiss made you lose your senses for a second.

“Aching, throwing up, gaining weight, all of it?” you murmured as you stroked his cheek.

His eyes were wild,  yet so affectionate. “All of it,” he confirmed as he leaned back in to steal another kiss.

“Wait,” you quickly said and pecked him on the lips as an apology. He gave you a curious look. “I think…” you trailed off, too shy to say what was on your mind, “that I shouldn't be kissing you. Also, you shouldn't walk like this here anymore. The more pregnant I am, the more…” gulp, “I want from you,” you said so quietly, Baekhyun unconsciously leaned in with his ear by your mouth.

He chuckled and bit his lower lip. “You mean you are more horny?”

You nodded, blush creeping up your cheeks. “I don't think you can imagine what I have in mind.”

“Oh, I think I do know.” 

You shook your head but he continued: “My sweetest sweetheart,” he murmured and he made it a point to press his hips into yours as much as possible, given the belly was growing to be quite the restriction between you two. “I put three babies into you,” he murmured in your ear, his words and hot breath sending electric shocks into your southern parts. “Don't think I can't live up to your horny expectations. Nor do think I am not craving you every single fucking day. Because I do,” he sighed and pressed a wet kiss on the side of your neck. “You just look irresistible, and when you're naked… fuck,” his voice trembled, and his hand was already under your shirt, exploring, cupping, caressing, making you a moaning mess. Your head fell backwards in ecstasy and he sucked on the exposed skin on your collarbones. “So if you want three rounds,” he said and straightened up a bit to give you a lustful look, “I will give you three rounds. Each round for one baby.”

You were fast to throw yourself at him, kissing him desperately, needing him to satisfy the ache that only he was able to. The towel he had around his neck fell, his wet hair very slightly dripping still.

Thankfully, you were in the bedroom already. Gently placing you on the bed, Baekhyun crawled up and above you, while his hands were pushing up his shirt you were wearing since you couldn't stand anything that would restrict your movements). Your hands were fumbling with his jeans, but Baekhyun was faster and took them off along with his underwear while you pulled the shirt over your head, and discarded the panties. Bra was also something you wore as little as possible, your breasts being achy and growing, a bra was very uncomfortable. You had yet to go to some markets to get bigger sized bras for a cheaper price.

Baekhyun was back at your lips right away, his fingertips teasingly making their way down the side of your body, starting from your breasts, to the hips all the way to your butt before he hooked his arms under on knee. His other hand wandered off to the parts you needed him the most, by then practically begging him to just move on.

“Oh, wow,” he breathed, awed, “so no foreplay needed anymore, hm?” he purred, as he felt you dripping.

“Please,” you wailed, and he enjoyed himself way too much for your liking. “I will get seriously hurt if you keep the teasing up.”

That made him pay attention to you. “What? Is something hurting? What-”

You raised your head and laughed into his scared face before you put the knee he was holding around his waist, followed with your other leg and pressed him into you, the pressure building up. “I will hurt, if you won't do something,” you breathed loudly.

“Don't scare me like that,” he chastised, frowning momentarily as he brought his hand up to your cheek, into which you leaned in. Eventually, his features softened, and he whispered: “I will take care of you, mummy.”

You were so surprised at the word, you could barely gasp when he finally entered you, his forehead pressed to yours, your hand interlaced with his. He wanted to give you time, worries about hurting you or the babies forever present in his mind, but he barely made it inside and you were begging for more. He would lie if he would have said he didn't like it.

“You're so hot,” he rasped, hiding his face in your neck.

“And you're too slow.”

He laughed into your skin, biting you. “Impatience doesn't take you anywhere.”

You met his hips eagerly and you held his face, your eyes fluttering close. “Exactly. So work,” you said, letting out another wanton moan when he did as you wished. He would do anything you wanted him to, because you were pretty much his everything.

He brought you over the edge sooner than later, helping you ride out the ecstasy as if his dangerous kisses earlier didn't already cast a spell on you. He followed you soon, but you were nowhere near finished.

Before he had time to get back to his senses, you bit his shoulder teasingly, humming. “Darling, again.”

You meant it when you said your horny self was different from your usual one, and Baekhyun was definitely up for a ride except-

There was a knock on your door, followed by a doorbell.

Both of you froze, still panting loudly, still very much high on the quick love you just made.

“It's-”

“Sukyeong,” you finished, cursing before Baekhyun gave you a pointed look, still not moving from your naked body.

“No cursing with babies-”

“Baekhyun!” you said, “you need to move!”

“But the next round-”

You let out a loud laugh before giving him a loud peck. “If there is anyone frustrated, it's me, trust me,” you said as he slowly fell next to you and you sat up, seeing the mess you just made.

He reached to the floor next to the mattress handing you tissues.

Murmuring a thanks, you quickly wiped yourself up and put back the wrinkled shirt that was discarded so carelessly before.

Standing up, you felt a bit sore which made you sit back for a minute just when another loud knock sounded. Few seconds later, your phone was ringing. “Coming!” you shouted. You phone stopped ringing.

Baekhyun chuckled from behind you, still lying there, now covered with the bed sheets. “You look like you have been properly fuc-”

“Don't. Say. It,” you murmured.

He laughed and sat up, kissing the little piece of skin that was not covered on your shoulder. “Hurting?”

You nodded and turned your head to see him, still very needy but thankfully, you weren't as frustrated as you thought you would have been.

“Sorry, should have been a bit gentler,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck.

You snorted. “Are you really sorry though?” you asked, and when you saw his mischievous smile, you got the answer. Pecking him quickly, he leaned into you, attempting to prolong the kiss. “I really have to open the door,” you sighed, “once were are back from the company dinner tonight, you are all mine, you hear me?”

He stared into your eyes for a while, soft smile playing on his lips. “I love you.” His hand was caressing your belly from behind.

You felt like you could burst from happiness. “I love you, too.”

-

One hour later and you were standing in front of the mirror with baggy dress on that Sukyeong got from her older sister who used it during her pregnancy. The dress made you… a bit huge.

“You should wear a long sweater too, hm?” she said, as she took the mentioned piece and circled it around you, placing it on your shoulders. “It should be big enough to divert the attention from your belly,” she murmured in a low voice, knowing that Baekhyun was in the tiny apartment and had no clue about your sneaky plan of hiding your stomach.

You gulped and looked yourself over in the mirror. “It's good enough,” you managed to say.

“You look cute!” chuckled Sukyeong, covering her mouth.

“Is Chen coming sa well?” Baekhyun appeared at the door.

“He is! He will meet us at the restaurant since he is busy,” she replied with a smile, looking at your boyfriend. He nodded when his eyes looked you over for the first time. You weren't sure if you expected any reaction from him but what he gave you was not what you… expected.

“Nice dress,” he murmured, the slightest of frowns knitting his eyebrows together. “I thought you are wearing one of your other dresses.”

Sukyeong looked at me, little panic bubbling in her big eyes.

“Well, you know how I don't like anything that is hugging my body anymore,” you replied truthfully, meeting his gaze bravely. His lazy posture leaning against the doorframe, eyes raking up your body… ah, ah, he was too hot for you. Why were you this horny?!

“It diverts the attention from the bruise that you gave her!” snapped Sukyeong playfully.

You blushed while Baekhyun looked more than proud. “Oh please, I will hide it with makeup,” you said quickly, “but anyway,  how did you ever know that I am pregnant?” you asked and then looked at Baekhyun to clarify: “She followed me to the toilet couple of days ago when I threw up at work and she just said she knew I was pregnant!” you exclaimed with a shocked smile.

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows, curious.

“Please!” Sukyeong waved her hand. “I could smell baby all over you! I noticed your boobs and your morning sickness,” she giggled. “You know, woman's sense. But wow, you are actually expecting three babies... “

You stepped to Baekhyun, hiding your face in his chest out of embarrassment, while he laughed, caressing your back. “So if you noticed, it means others had to notice,” you mumbled but quickly realised you shouldn't go to those waters. Straightening back up, you checked the clock: “We should really finish getting ready! We will be late!”

-

The dinner was taking place at a very posh restaurant. You almost felt out of place in your huge, baggy dress and sweater. Well, at least you lived up to the fact that you were a penniless mother-to-be.

Hands intertwined with Baekhyun's under the table, your boss was on your left at the head of the long table that was filled with colleagues from your department while Sukyeong was opposite you with Chen right next to her. Everyone was in a pleasant conversation except you, because you were your boss's direct assistant and if he didn't talk, you definitely didn't feel like talking. 

Baekhyun raised his fork to your mouth to try the meat with sauce and you smiled up at him, gratefully chewing on the tender meat. He winked at you, satisfied when he saw you eating well. You just prayed he wouldn't say something related to your state, because then it would be… very bad.

“Oh, so cute,” cooed you boss from your other side and it made you snap your eyes to him. He didn't sound so genuine. “Aren't you two sweet. Does your boyfriend always treat you this well?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

You exchanged quick looks with Sukyeong who smiled at your reassuringly. “Yes, always.”

“And you don't want to marry this man?” he asked, laughing.

You froze for a moment and you felt Baekhyun did, too. Feeling the nerves bubbling up in your stomach, suddenly it was churning in anxiety.

“I can't get her to say yes, sir,” replied Baekhyun simply, chuckling to ease up the situation.

You gasped, widening your eyes at your boyfriend. “When did you ever ask?”

Your boss shrugged, amused. “As long as it does not keep her away from her work.”

You bit your lip hoping Baekhyun didn't hear the remark, but when you saw him giving your boss a deadly look, you knew things were turning the wrong way.

You felt another strong pull in your stomach, and you just knew it was coming. Blood was draining from your face and you stood up slowly, trying not to cause a ruckus. Baekhyun gave you a questioning look laced with worry, and you simply whispered: “Toilet.”

He nodded once, and held your hand until he had to let go.

Once you knew you are out of sight, you took off, running quickly to the bathroom, barely making it into the stall, before the entire dinner came out. Since you just ate, you couldn't stop throwing up, retching sounds along with crampings of your stomach making it impossible to even sit down.

You flushed, heaving out a breath as you attempted to sit down before nausea overtook you again, making you gag and crawl back to the bowl. “Shit! Make it stop,” you whined quietly, tears streaming down your face as you tried to calm down.

-

“So, are you really not thinking of marrying any time soon?” spoke your boss to Baekhyun.

“Well, right in this instant we aren't,” he said slowly, not liking an inch the tone your boss was using, “but given our situation, we should do it as soon as it would be possible, right?”

Your boss gave him a surprised look and Baekhyun failed to notice the panic in Sukyeong's eyes when she sensed the direction of the conversation. “What situation?”

Baekhyun blinked once before smiling gently at the thought. “Well, we are expecting three next spring.”

Silence took over your part of the table. Sukyeong abruptly stood up, startling Chen and rushing to search for you, while your boss glared at Baekhyun. “Expecting three? You mean my personal assistant is pregnant?”

Baekhyun, unsure, nodded. “Yes. She is 14 weeks in.”

“What?” he snapped, startling everyone around the table.

Baekhyun frowned but didn't have time to respond, because your boss was looking at someone behind you, angry veins on his neck.

“Baekhyun,” you hissed, but it was too late. Trying not to faint right in front of everyone, you took your boyfriend by his hand but he stood up right away once he saw your pale face.

“You threw up again?” he asked quietly not happy seeing you like that.

Sukyeong nodded eagerly in reply.

“This is probably the last time we are seeing each other,” you heard your boss from the table, and your chin quivered. Baekhyun and Sukyeong both glared at him. “Since you signed the contract promising not to get impregnated but you obviously couldn't do even that!” he spit. “I knew you would be trouble!” he shouted, standing up and coming close to you. Baekhyun was fast to stand in front of you, storm clouding his eyes while Sukyeong gasped, squeezing your hand.

“Move, Mr Byun,” snapped you boss. “I need to talk to my personal assistant.”

You gulped, your throat still painful from throwing up. But Baekhyun wasn't moving an inch. “You talk to my girlfriend under my supervision only,” he said, his tone deep in warning. “Do not dare talk to her that way.”

“I hope you know that you don't need to be polite with me anymore,” retorted your boss and sent daggers your way. “Young people really can't keep it in their pants these days. Having kids without marriage? Disgusting! But even worse? You are useless and pregnant.” 

You squealed when Baekhyun landed a painful punch straight into your boss's face. You grabbed your boyfriend by his arm, trying to stop him. “Wait, Baekhyun, you know you cannot get into a fight!” you said just as he was about to land another punch.

Chen was by your side in a minute, dragging outraged Baekhyun away and you were hot on their heels as you tried to avoid people's intense stares.

Outside on fresh, chilly air, Baekhyun shrugged Chen off, fuming as he turned to you suddenly. “What the fuck just happened!”

You tried not to flinch at his voice, instead getting angry at him. “Are you nuts?! You know you cannot fight outside of your classes! Are you trying to get yourself expelled?!”

He was a hapkido master. Although not strictly, but if someone found out he used his trained strength against someone, his PhD title he was working so hard for could go to waste. And his teaching job as well. Basically, his entire career.

“This isn't about me!” he snapped. “I can't just stand there listening to him talking about you like that!” He was livid. “And what promise was your boss talking about? Was what I heard true?!”

When you weren't replying, your quivering chin was saying it all. Chen was next to Baekhyun to calm him down once again, while Sukyeong tried to calm you down as tears were rolling down your cheeks, your head extremely dizzy. “Yes, you heard correctly! He made me promise I won't get pregnant!”

“For what reason?” he laughed humorlessly as he ran his hands through his hair. “Why the fuck did you even agree to it?”

“Guys,” started Chen with a pleading voice, “you should go home and resolve it there. Baekhyun, your girlfriend is not well,” he added gently, nudging his friend to bring him to his senses.

Baekhyun went silent, taking in your shaky figure, teary cheeks and pale face. He hated the view. Heck, he despised it so much, more so because you were crying mostly because of his outburst. But he couldn't stand you being mistreated like that! And were you hiding stuff from him?

“We are going home, young lady,” he said, his voice uncomfortably levelled. “You have lots of explaining to do.”

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

WIP Wednesday

I am, again, untagged but undeterred! Who wants more Wingman? No? Too bad, that’s what you’re getting!

I... haven’t slept yet. Consider yourself tagged if you want to do this and please please tag me in your WIPs, I really love seeing what my friends, mutuals, and followers are all working on. Part of this is under a cut, mostly for the sanity of Future Me.

About halfway down the block, they realized at about the same time that they had nothing to talk about.

“So…”

“So...”

So. Akira didn’t remember how to have a normal damn conversation. He wasn’t going to blame that on the fact that the only people who’d spoken to him on a regular basis in the past five months were all eccentric to say the least, but it definitely hadn’t helped. One of the top five current sanest people in his life was the drag queen proprietor of a bar in the red light district, for crying out loud. Not to mention he’d always been more of a listener to begin with because it was less stressful. So long as the person talking wasn’t a harried reporter who could only ever be found at the aforementioned drag bar. Or his homeroom teacher being blackmailed into dubious side work by a late student’s family. Or an ex member of the goddamn yakuza. Being “robbed of one’s place to belong” apparently also did a number on one’s sanity.

Akira was pulled from his thoughts by Ono awkwardly clearing his throat.

“I, uh, heard that one of the Japanese schools staying here is Shujin. That you?” Jason hazarded. 

“Yup.”

“Phantom Thieves Shujin?”

“That’s the only one I’m aware of.” Akira responded blandly. Not the best topic for small talk considering the apparent state of his brain-to-mouth filter, but better than walking along and twiddling their thumbs until one of them decided to leave. Probably.

Jason cracked a smile and jokingly asked, “Do you know them?” Even half-expecting it, the question still caught him a little off guard. Although not as much as it would have a few months prior, considering he’d gotten it just as jokingly from several of Leblanc’s regulars since May. Meaning he’d had time to practice his answer.

“Oh yeah,” Akira responded, pouring every ounce of sarcasm he had into a completely truthful statement, “I found them on accident and they made me their leader.” Then he rolled his eyes for good measure. Who needed to be a good liar when you could just tell the truth in a way nobody would believe?

“Pff, why would they do that?” Jason snorted, indulging the “joke.” Akira shrugged in response.

“No idea,” he answered, again, completely honestly. “My unparalleled charisma? My superior adaptability?” He paused for his date to stop laughing before he continued, “My cool glasses?” That earned him a scoff.

“Clark Kent you ain’t, buddy.” Ono retorted dryly, but the effect was ruined by the smile trying to break out across his face. Topic successfully deflected.

“Definitely no Superman, either.” Akira stretched and laughed softly.“Too gangly.” He was finally starting to actually relax a little when an arm snaked around his waist and tugged him close, effectively shooting his progress in the face.

“I dunno if I’d say gangly. Lean, maybe?” Ono’s voice was close to his ear again and his hand was ridiculously warm where it rested on his hip. “Whatever you wanna call it, it definitely suits you.” 

“Uh. Th-thanks.” A few moments passed, allowing Akira to attempt to scrape together something resembling a brain cell.

“Y’know, if you’re here to make memories, maybe we should get on that.”

Attempt failed, try again later. Something about the guy’s voice, especially with the way it ghosted across an apparently very sensitive spot just behind his ear, seemed to have a vendetta against Akira trying to think. Purely on impulse, with no input from his higher functions that had all abandoned him at that point, Akira turned his head and hummed his assent against the corner of Ono’s jaw. He felt a shiver run through the taller boy and a decidedly Arsene-shaped sense of smug satisfaction in the back of his mind. Akira wasn’t sure if he should offer his inner self thanks or wonder where the hell this kind of helpful nudge was earlier that afternoon with Ryuji. Or at literally any point with Ryuji. Maybe it was for the better, he really didn’t have the nerve to follow up on a move like that. And if he couldn’t with the guy who’d arranged the damn date, there was no way he’d have been able to after probably ambushing his unsuspecting best friend. There was no point in dwelling on that, though. Instead, he met the hooded gaze Jason levelled at him with a smirk meant to cover his rising nerves. 

Anyone who knew Joker, Infamous Leader of the Phantom Thieves would have recognized that particular smirk as the prelude to him being a little shit, but Ono did not. He had no idea what to expect when Akira replied lowly, “I think you might be onto something there.” The blond leaned in a little, eyes fluttering shut as Akira reached up to settle one hand on the back of Jason’s neck--

--and shattered the moment with a quiet click from his phone’s camera. Ono blinked a few times, looking up to where Akira was holding his phone up for the selfie he’d just snapped, and back to Akira’s face. Double take. Triple take. And then he fixed him with the most unimpressed face Akira had ever seen in his life, which had to be some kind of world record.

“Uhhh, say ‘cheese?’” He cracked a smile and tried hard not to laugh as that look somehow turned even more unimpressed.

“Ha freaking ha.” Ono pouted up at the camera. “Seriously. I’m gonna crack a rib laughin’ here. You’re hilarious.”

“Are you saying you don’t want a picture of yourself when you look this good?” Akira replied innocently and lowered his arm a little. Maybe it was unfair to push the buttons of a guy so obviously and aggressively walking the fine line between confident and vain, but the way his pout deepened before twisting into a smile was too cute.

“Fine, twist my arm why don’t you?” Jason rolled his eyes good-naturedly and settled against Akira before looking up into the camera. Halfway through the burst of pictures Akira took, Jason exacted his revenge and pressed a kiss to that sensitive spot he’d ghosted his breath over a moment ago. Thankfully the camera didn’t pick up the deeply embarrassing yelp that particular move elicited from Akira, but there was no hiding the way the phone suddenly jerked in his hand halfway through the dozen or so pictures, or the way his face had gone completely scarlet in all of them from that point onward. It was his turn to pout as he swiped through his camera roll and deleted the blurriest ones. “Ooh, definitely send me that one. And those two.” Ono instructed with his chin hooked over Akira’s shoulder. Naturally the guy wanted the pictures with the worst of Akira’s tomato face, but at least the rest he requested were nice. Maybe Akira wouldn’t be spending the rest of the night too mortified.

The incoming text notification that dropped from the top of his screen said otherwise. Goddammit.

“Oh man, the timing on that’s almost spooky. Hell of a coincidence.” Jason laughed as the preview of Futaba’s ‘who the heck is that guy???’ disappeared into the notifications bar. Akira groaned.

“Not a coincidence.”

[pit-and-the-pen]

Hi! I love ur work, but im also a thirsty bitch sooo. Can you do a kinky dom Draco in a Draco x Reader? 😳

Okay yes! 

Warnings: NSFW (obvi), chocking (consensual) mentioned Keep it sane, safe and consensual y’all

Taglist: (If you’re a minor or don’t want to be tagged in NSWF content, let me know so I can untag you. I double checked but some of yall don’t have ages in your bio)  General: @thoseofgreatambition @ickle-ronniekins @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrysweasleys @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 

        -------------------------------------💚🖤-----------------------------------

- So this man oh boy 

- He’s so used to getting his way that you being a brat in any way would just make him so mad 

- “are you going to be a good girl now?” “nope” 

-He would just walk away with a little smirk and you knew you were in for it

-You see him later and he would be wearing that black suit (we all know which one I’m talking about) and you would just freeze since you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow

- He would love to spank you. Seeing you squirm and whine and plead would make him never want to stop. Seeing your skin turn pink or red would make him go crazy

-Fuck a daddy kink this man wants you to call him SIR

-He’d also love calling you pet names, baby girl, pretty good, good girl, princess, apple (for humor reasons mostly) 

_he’d also love tying you up, mostly with his tie since he loved the way the green looked against your skin tone. But also just for the extra kink factor of him getting to wear it around after

_plus the reaction of you flushing at all when he would adjust it, he’d know your mind goes immediately to the night before and you’d look down at the slight indentations that are still there and just start to squirm even more 

-He’d love to tease you in public but isn’t down for any public sex ya know, because your his and that’s for his eyes only

-He’d also love to see you beg

-Edge you until you cant talk and then demand you tell him what you want or he’ll stop 

-”Oh no. I’m not going to keep going until you describe exactly what you want me to do to you” 

- But this man can also be romantic, he’d pull you on top of him because he just loved to look at you while he was making you feel good

-thigh riding. thigh riding, thigh riding!

-When he was stressed out during school though he would just pull you into the room of requirements literally whenever and you’d always have to cover up the marks for the rest of the day cause even magic couldn’t fix that shit

-Breath play?? He’d love to see your face when the slight struggle for oxygen. Just the way your mouth would fall open and your eyes would go all glassy because it made you have to feel everything and he just pounded into you

-He’d love to make you watch in a mirror. And when he did he made sure to go super slow so you can feel every inch of him at all times. How your face would pout when he pulled out only to have it contort in pleasure as he slowly slid back in

-You try to look away and he would just grab you chin ever so lightly and tilt it up so you were looking yourself dead in the eye. “You’re gonna watch how beautiful you look when you’re stuffed full of me” 

- This man also loved to eat you out. For the same reason as he just loved seeing how good he could make you feel and also just to hear all the sounds you made

-He would make you scream his name

-”Who’s making you feel this good, angel??” “Yo--ou” You would barely be able to stutter out and he would just shake his head and whisper in your ear. “You know that’s not good enough. Now again? who’s making you feel this good?” 

-Basically Draco is a sex god and would be able to turn you into a puddle in a matter of seconds and jesus this makes me want a Dom Draco that JKR was too much of a coward to give us. 

[devil-kindred]

the right moment

Pairing: Samuel Drake/Evie Crane

Rating: M

Warnings: a bit of smut (though i didn’t get too overly detailed)

Summary: When Sam pays a visit to Nathan and his family, he brings along an item he's had for years and asks his little brother for some advice. He wants to propose to his long-time girlfriend, Evie, but doesn't know when the right time to do so is. Nathan's advice? When the time is right, you'll know. Sam's not sure how to take the (rather unhelpful) advice and, when Evie pays a surprise visit, he decides what better time than now? What follows is a succession of failed proposals before he finally discovers that the right moment is sometimes when you least expect it to be. [Or rather; a 5 + 1 fic detailing the five times Samuel Drake tried to propose to Evie and the one time he finally did.]

WC: 11.7k | 1/1 | ao3

Tagging a few people who might be interested in reading: @vvitchofhemwick @tommymillers @chyrstis (if you want to be untagged just dm me!)

-

It’s a little before noon on a sunny, perfect day when Sam and Nathan Drake steer the boat back to the dock on the Fisher-Drake property. They’d taken the boat at Elena’s urging for an early morning run and had spent most of their time on the water reminiscing about their lives and just how far they’d come over the years. 

“I still can hardly believe it.” Sam says, as the Nate docks the boat and the two of them disembark. “You happily married, living your life to the fullest with your wife and daughter… How did I become an uncle before you anyways?”

“It’s usually the other way around isn’t it?” Nate answers with a laugh, turning to gaze back at his home with a fond smile. “Man, it wasn’t easy to get this far… But I think back on it and can’t help but feel that everything that happened to get to this was worth it. Some things could’ve gone better, though. Preferably not thinking you were dead for a while would be one of those things.”

“Yeah, well if we had to do again I’d rather not be stuck in jail— Panamanian jail— for a couple years. If it weren’t for you and our thrilling adventure, I’m not sure I would’ve ever met Evie.”

“Couple things have to go wrong before they can go right.”

“Sure seems like it.” Sam laughs as he follows Nate down the dock and halts, stopping his brother just a few feet shy of solid ground. “Hey, Nathan, speaking of Evie and our adventures— I wondered if I could ask you a question real quick.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“When you uh…” Sam glances around as if checking to see if anyone was in earshot and lowers his voice before he continues. “When you proposed to Elena, how did you know it was the right time?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’? You wanted it to be a romantic thing, right? Like a… a good memory. Perfect, right? How did you know that it was the time to ask?”

“I just knew. I don’t know how else to explain it, Sam.” He grins at his brother, playfully elbowing him in the ribs. “Finally gonna settle down after all this time? Sure took you long enough.”

“Oh, shut it.” Sam grumbles, elbowing him back. “So you say, you just… knew. That worked all well and good for you, but how will I know when it’s the right moment?”

Nate shakes his head, “I can’t give you the answer, Sam. All I can say is that when the moment’s right, you’ll know.” With that bit of helpful— or unhelpful, if you were to ask Sam— advice Nate departs, patting Sam on the shoulder as he leaves the dock and strides up the beach to the house.

Sam stands on the dock overlooking the ocean for a few moments after Nate retreats, his brother’s words weighing heavily on his mind. “You’ll know.” He muses aloud, walking off the dock and onto the expanse of white sand beach the Fisher-Drake house resides on. “And just how do you know, Nathan?” He sighs and stares out at the ocean once more as if the rolling waves will hold the answer to his woes— until a woman’s voice breaks his train of thought. 

“Well, hello handsome.”

“I appreciate the the observation, but I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.” Sam laughs good-naturedly, waving a hand to ward off the compliment as he turns to face the woman who spoke to him. “I must inform you I’m a taken⏤” His mind goes blank as he sights her and walks, at first slowly, then rapidly towards her before he scoops her up in his arms and spins her around.

“Can’t believe I actually managed to surprise you for once.” She says, her arms around his neck and her legs firmly around his waist as he buries his face in the crook of her neck and she strokes his hair. “I missed you.”

“Ah, jesus, Evie.” His voice is muffled, and her laugh is music to his ears. “I thought you were stuck in Glasgow?” He lifts his head to look at her and eyes her smug smile with caution. “Evie.”

“I was stuck in Glasgow but Alessandra pulled some strings and gave me her ticket so I could surprise you.  Hell, she surprised me too. She was so excited to finally meet everyone⏤ I still can’t believe she gave up her ticket.”

“The same Alessandra that's madly in love with Victor?”

“That’s the one. She’s still coming⏤ hoping to relax and maybe get an interview with Nate and Elena if they’re so inclined as to indulge her⏤ but she won’t be here until next week.” Evie leans back in his arms slightly and raises an eyebrow. “For shame, Sam, you’re not going to ask me how long I’m here for?”

“Well, now that you’ve said it, how long do I get my beautiful girlfriend all to myself?”

“You do realize you have to share me with your sister-in-law?” She laughs, amused at his slightly wounded expression. “I want her advice on some of the extra photos I got from my last project.”

“Eh, so Elena gets to borrow you for a bit. Still all to myself, more or less.” He shrugs, “So exactly how long are you here for?’

“Same amount of time as you.”

“I get you for the whole month? Really?” He gives another quick spin causing her to burst into laughter again and cling tighter. “For real?”

“I got paid well enough from the last job that I can more than afford to take a vacation. So I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.” The last part is spoken softly and Evie gives a delighted squeal when Sam smacks her ass, “Samuel!”

“Best plan to stick around for quite a while then.” He says cheekily and kisses her⏤ full of love, passion, and the promise of what’s in store later on. It would be a blissful moment… if it weren’t for Nathan interrupting.

“Hey, keep it PG you two! Child on the beach!” Nathan yells faintly from further down the stretch of sandy terrain, Cassie’s laughter carrying down to them on the wind.

Sam ignores his younger brother’s words for a moment longer, slipping his hand beneath the back of Evie’s tank top and grinning into the kiss at the shiver his actions elicit. He breaks the kiss with another smile, retracting his hand from her shirt, and gently drops Evie back onto the sand.

“Resume our reunion later?”

“Later.” Evie agrees with a smile, taking Sam’s hand as they walk over to greet his family.

-

The two of them spend most of the day and night with Nathan, Elena, and Cassie. What was initially intended as a brief family gathering, quickly turning into time getting away from them. Evie shares the not so fun elements of trying to fix her canceled flight situation— something she’d never have been able to remedy were it not for Alessandra and Elena’s help. Elena’s involvement earns a shocked response from both her brother-in-law, which she more or less expected, and her daughter which came as quite a surprise.

“I can’t believe you kept Aunt Evie’s visit a secret!”

“You can believe I kept it a secret? You should be more shocked that your dad managed to keep quiet about it. He’s got a big mouth.”

“You knew? Nathan!” 

“Hey, hey!” Nate yells, ducking to avoid the throw pillow that flies his way after Sam’s words. “I was sworn to secrecy! My wife is a very convincing woman.” He lobs a pillow back, but misses his mark and hits Elena instead who jokingly declares ‘war’ and a massive pillow fight breaks out. The chaos carries on for some time and is, unfortunately, not limited to their living room and by the time everyone tires themselves out, the house is in complete disarray.

“Oh, we really made a mess. I don’t even know where half of these belong. Is that a couch co—“ She breaks off in another laugh as Sam whacks her backside with a throw pillow, which he then promptly tosses back onto the chair he thinks it belongs to. “Didn’t get me enough times during the pillow war?”

“Mhm, there’s not enough time in the world for it to have been enough.” 

“Yeah, well remember that for later because I—“ She smiles and ducks away from his reaching hands, darting out the open doorway as he follows suit. “Need to go get changed before dinner, and you can help tidy up the mess we made while I do.”

“Not even a kiss before you go?”

“One kiss.” She relents, letting him wraps his arms around her and rising onto her tiptoes for a kiss. Sam grins and dips her, giving her second, and then a third, much longer kiss. “I said one! You are insatiable.”  She breaks away from his grasp, wagging a finger at him with a laugh. “Seriously, I need to go change. Please help tidy up for me?”

“Whatever you want, doll.”

He smiles fondly as Evie turns and disappears down the hall, the sound of the front door swinging open and shut telling him that she’d finally gone to change and that their current fun was done for the time being. He chuckles to himself as he gathers up the cushions and pillows strewn across the floor and sets about trying to put things back to the way they were.

“Uncle Sam?”

“Hey, Cassie. How’s my favorite niece?”

“I’m your only niece, Uncle Sam.” She rolls her yes, then breaks into a smile when Sam makes a face and points at the large cushion held in his hands. “That goes on the big chair at the dining table. Also, dad says to tell you dinner’s ready.” A pause before she adds, “Aunt Evie must really love you, since she came all this way to see you. I’m glad she makes you happy. Mom and Dad are too.”

-

Later in the evening, when the remnants of dinner have been cleared away and even later still, after an admittedly decent movie, Sam finally steals Evie away from his family under the guise of finally calling it a night. The two get as far as Elena’s studio before things change course and Sam suggests going for a walk along the beach instead.

“It’s a nice night,” He says, waving a hand at the moon and expanse of stars glowing brightly overhead. “what do you think?”

“I think a moonlit walk sounds very romantic.” She steps close as he drapes an arm across her shoulders and the two of them begin their slow stroll across the beach. “Careful,” she teases, “if your brother sees he’ll know you’re actually a big softie on the inside.”

“Eh, Nathan can think what he wants. So long as you’re happy with me secretly being a big ‘softie’, that’s all that matters.”

“So long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Looks like we have some company.” She adds, stepping out of his embrace to greet Victoria— who’s abandoned sleeping on the guest house deck in favor of coming to see them. 

“Evie, love. There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now.” Sam says, slowing his steps as Evie starts to trail ahead— laughing softly as Victoria bounds around the edge of the water. He sinks to one knee in the sand, one hand reaching for his pocket as he calls her name. “Evie⏤” His words cut off in a loud ‘oof’ as he’s tackled backwards into the sand, forty pounds of fluffy golden retriever parked atop him.

“Victoria!” Evie half-laughs, half-scolds as the dog wags her tail and sticks her nose against Sam’s shirt in hopes of a treat. “Get off of Sam, girl. Come on!” Evie wave a hand and jogs a few steps away, patting her leg as Victoria bounds away from— and off of— Sam. “I bet there’s yummy treats in the house, hm?” She says, crouching down to ruffle Victoria’s fur with a smile. “Cassie knows where they’re at doesn’t she? You better go get her!”

As Victoria runs off in the direction of the house, Sam— still sprawled on his back in the sand— utters a heavy sigh and closes his eyes. He can hear the soft crunch of sand underfoot as Evie walks back to him and he opens an eye to catch sight of the hem of her dress swaying the breeze.

“What were you saying, Sam?”

“Oh nothing important, really.” He waves her away as she offers a hand to help, sitting up and brushing grains of sand from his arms and shirt all while Victoria— who had apparently changed her mind about treats in favor of keeping the two of them company— plops down on the sand and wags her tail. He reaches out and gives the dog a pat on the head before she runs off— finally called back to the house by Nathan, who was waving from the front porch. “Hey, why don’t we go to dinner tomorrow night? Just the two of us?”

Evie studies him with a quizzical expression, one eyebrow raised as she waves a hand towards the beach house. “Don’t you want to spend time with your family? I thought Elena had an evening planned?”

Sam shrugs and stands, patting his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter— before remembering he quit smoking years ago— as he stalls. “I mean, of course I want to spend time with my family. I just thought maybe we could use some alone time. I’ll talk to Elena in the morning.” He gives up the misguided search and wraps an arm around Evie as they begin the trek down the beach to the guest house. “If she has something planned, we’ll do dinner— just us— another time. I’ve got you for a whole month, maybe longer. What’s the rush.”

-

True to Evie’s question, Sam finds that Elena does, in fact, have an evening planned the next day. As well as the next couple days, and he’d be lying if he were to say he didn’t find it a little discouraging for his plans. A few nights later, however, Sam is finally able to take Evie out on the town for a night. He books a reservation at a nice restaurant he was recommended by Nathan and promises a lovely, much needed— in his mind— night away from family. The settle into a cozy candle-lit booth upon arrival at the restaurant— named Arturo’s— and have a peaceful, romantic evening. A night that should, theoretically, check all the boxes for an absolutely perfect proposal. When the waiter offers a cocktail menu post-meal, the two of the them deliberate for a moment before deciding that a drink or two couldn’t hurt anything.

As it turns out about an hour or two later… drinks were actually a bad idea. 

“Wow, what was in that?” Evie giggles, clinging to Sam for support as they both stumble up the stairs of the guest house. “I need to know what brand of tequila that was. I’ve never had a drink that strong before. I didn’t even have that many!”

The both of them manage to stumble inside without doing any damage, and upon making it to the hall, Sam leaves her side briefly— entering the bedroom and earning himself enough time to stash the ring box back in the bedside drawer before turning to find Evie clinging to the doorframe with a stricken expression.

“Evie, doll, what’s the matter?” He tries to keep the panic in his voice low, but between fearing she’d seen the box and the expression on her face the emotion was more than a little difficult to keep under control.

“Room’s spinning.” She murmurs, mercifully still keeping ahold of the door frame as she sways and slowly slides down towards the wooden floor. “Oh, I don’t like this ride.”

Sam crosses the room as quickly as he can without losing his own sense of balance and gently grabs her in a bridal carry, standing with her held tightly in his arms before walking slowly to the opposite side of the room— both for Evie’s benefit and to try and alleviate the onset of his pounding headache. What brand of alcohol indeed. He sets her down on the bed, then grabs her again when she sways violently; catching her before she can hit the floor. “You know what? Good idea, the floor is good for tonight.” He grabs the spare blanket from the end of the bed and lays it out before throwing down two pillows and grabbing the duvet. “We’ll just lay right here,” He lays down next to Evie, taking her hand as she rests it against his chest. “and we’ll be good as new come morning.”

“Mhm.” She murmurs incoherently, snuggling as close to him as she can possibly get without being on top of him. “Sam?”

“Are you going to be sick?” He asks, wearily. “Because I love you with all my heart, I really do, but I don’t think I can—“

“I’m glad you talked to me that day in Madrid.”

“Oh,” Sam murmurs, taken by surprise. “well I’m glad I talked to you that day too, doll. Who knew that asking a very pretty woman to do a little recon for me would lead to ten long years of a relationship.” He raises their entwined hands and presses a soft kiss to her fingers. “I can’t think of a single thing I’d change about our meeting. Well, except the part about being shot at and maybe the bit about your camera getting destroyed… and not being entirely truthful about why I wanted pictures of that one specific portion of the ruin.” He laughs quietly, “I consider myself a very lucky man that you didn’t seem to hold that against me when we met again.”

His remark is met with silence and Sam turns his head to find Evie fast asleep, her face upturned towards his own. The sight brings a smile to his face and he holds her hand a little tighter as his own eyes slowly drift closed— following her into a peaceful slumber.

-

Much as was the case with the romantic dinner, it’s almost a week before Sam has the opportunity to steal Evie away again. It takes a lot of promising to spend time doing various activities with everyone over the next few days before he can finally convince Nathan to agree to another night without the two of them. In the end, Sam gets his wish of another romantic evening with Evie. He rents a car from town and sends Evie a simple text that tells her to be ready at six and to wear something comfortable. She exits the guest house five minutes prior and is pleased to see the sly smile on Sam’s face fall— replaced instead by an openmouthed stare as she walks towards the car he’s leaning against. 

“Well?” She asks, twirling around so the hem of her dress flares around her legs. “Think this is suitable for whatever you have planned for the evening?”

“More than suitable.” He answers, finally finding words as she steps forward and places her hands against his chest. “Where have you been hiding that? I didn’t see it in the closet.”

“I have my hiding places.” Is all she says in answer, resting against him. “I’m a little amused that a short little sundress elicits this reaction from you.”

“It’s more you than the dress, though I’ll admit the length certainly caught my attention.” He lowers his voice as he leans down for a kiss. “Are you even wearing anything under that?”

“Maybe…” She murmurs, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. “You can always find out later if you’re curious…”

Sam lingers for a moment, giving a gentle squeeze to Evie’s hip before he straightens and steps away, taking her hand and walking her around to the other side of the vehicle. He opens the door for her and drops her hand only when she’s settled into the passenger seat. 

“Such a gentleman.”

“I try, doll.” He shuts the door and circles around, getting in the driver’s side and starting the car— reaching over for her hand as he drives up the road and away from the neighborhood. “Any guesses to our evening?”

“I know we’re going somewhere and it’s not to town because you just turned the opposite direction… so no, I don’t really have a guess. I’m sure it’ll be nice, though. All the things you’ve had planned so far have been.”

“I aim to please.” He says with grin, as they coast along the road going out towards the bay and to a higher portion of the island.

Evie fiddles with the stereo, flipping through stations and static until she settles on one that comes in loud and clear. She smiles softly at the song playing from the speakers— a sultry love song and reaches out to take Sam’s free hand in her own. He gives a quick glance and a smile in her direction before returning his full attention to the road, gently squeezing her hand. The two of them sit like that for the rest of the drive, the island scenery flying past until Sam slows the car and pulls into a overlook at the top of the island. He pulls over at a perfect time, the sun just beginning to sink below the horizon as he puts the car in park.

“What do you think?”

From their vantage point high up above the rest of the island, they can see the vast ocean stretch out before them and the light of the sinking sun glimmering against the gently rolling waves.

“It’s beautiful, Sam.” She pulls her hand free from his own with a gentle smile, drawing her knees up onto the passenger seat and turning to face him. “Think you could move your seat back just a bit?”

Sam raises an eyebrow but complies, moving the seat back and laughing when Evie climbs over the gearshift and straddles his lap. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when we came up here—“ Evie stills, having already gotten his pants half undone and leans back, ready to climb back into her own seat.. “but I’m not complaining.” 

She shakes her head, gripping a fistful of his shirt and pulling him towards her for a kiss that delves into much more and by the time the sun has fully set, neither of them can see through the windows.

-

The next day finds Sam in what’s become his usual spot in terms of mulling over his plans… and how the perfect moment he’s been searching for has been thwarted at every turn. He reaches into his pocket and holds up the little velvet box, wondering how something so little could be the cause of so much stress in his life after so many years of not being any sort of problem. He turns at the sound of approaching footsteps, tensing up but then relaxing when he sees it’s only Nate.

“Hey, Sam, have you seen⏤” Nate stops short in his approach and does a double-take at the item held in his brother’s hand, then rushes over to him, quickly checking for Cassie— and more importantly, Evie— before he continues. “Holy shit, you bought the ring! When did you finally have the heart to separate yourself from her for more than five minutes? ”

“Actually,” Sam grins good-naturedly at the teasing remark, turning the box in his hands as his brother thumps him on the shoulder. “I’ve had the ring for about five years.”

“What? Come on, there’s no way you’ve had it that long.” At Sam’s nod, Nate gives him a gentle shove⏤ laughing just a little when Sam fumbles to keep ahold of the box and utters a thinly veiled threat about someone going in the ocean if the item he held were to fall in. “Why haven’t you asked her then? If you’ve had the ring for that long you know you’re serious about it.”

“I just... want it to be the right time. To be perfect, y’know?”

“Is that why you asked me for advice when you first got here?” Nate laughs, shaking his head as he looks at his brother. “If you’ve already got the ring, you’ve clearly thought about it and you’ve been with Evie for a long time. Any moment you’d choose to propose would probably be unexpected and damn near perfect at this point.”

“I don’t want it to be near perfect. It needs to be absolutely perfect, Nathan. I want her to remember this as a good thing.”

“Why wouldn’t she? Do you think you’ll get married and then one day she’ll wake up and think she made a mistake? Jesus, Sam. If she hasn’t decided you were a mistake yet, she’s not going to now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just⏤ Hey, Hey! If I go in the ocean so is the box because I’ll take you with me!”  

While the brothers Drake are somewhat playfully tussling on the dock, Evie is having a bit of a tussle of her own, albeit a verbal one.

“Ok, I’m leaving!”

“Stop!” Elena calls, halting Cassie in her trek past the kitchen. “Checklist: phone, charger, keys?”

“Check, check, and... check.”

“And what time do you have to be back tomorrow?”

Evie smiles at Cassie and holds out the carton of cherry tomatoes who smiles and takes one, popping it in her mouth before she answers.

“Dinner time.”

“Which is?” Elena prompts as she leans against the kitchen counter.

“Six-thirty?”

“Six-thirty. Tell May’s parents we say hello.” She gives Cassie a hug and returns to chopping up vegetables.

“Bye Mom, bye Aunt Evie!” Cassie yells over her shoulder as she heads out the door.

“Be sure to say goodbye to your dad and Uncle Sam!” Elena shakes her head with a smile when she gets a muffled ‘ok’ as a reply. “Can you hand me the tomatoes?”

“Sure. Hey, when did she start calling me ‘Aunt’ Evie?” She questions as she hands over the container.

“About... four months ago? Don’t be so surprised, Evie. You’re a close friend, you’re with Sam, we see you often. You’re basically family in all but name now. Speaking of—“ Elena halts, looking down at the half-empty container with a laugh. “Evie, you ate half of the tomatoes!”

Evie grins in response and reaches into the grocery sack on the counter beside her and pulls out another full container of cherry tomatoes. She pops the lid and swaps the half-empty container for the full one, swiping another tomato out of the container she took from Elena. “What? They’re good!” She says, as Elena laughs again and shakes her head.

“Back to what I was saying. Speaking of Sam—“

“Oh no.”

“No, no, it’s just a question. How are things?”

“Things are good.” Evie answers, leaning back against the adjacent counter as she speaks. “He seemed genuinely surprised when I showed up here.”

“Which means Nate didn’t spill the secret.” At Evie’s questioning gaze, Elena adds, “He saw the sticky notes in my office about your arrival time and making sure the guest house was stocked with enough stuff for two people.”

“Ah, gotcha.” She sighs happily and smiles. “Like I said, things have been good. The surprise went without any issue and he’s been so romantic this past week!”

“Oh? Come on, give me some details!”

“Well, the first night I was here we went for a walk on the beach after dinner, and then a few nights later we went to this really nice little restaurant in town— They had the best food but...”

“Oooh Arturo’s?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh they have the best food but the drinks are really strong, right?”

“So strong!” Evie laughs, “I felt so bad for Sam, I can’t even remember what I ordered but it tasted great— only problem is the room was spinning by the time we got back to the guest house. Would you believe me if I said we ended up sleeping on the floor?”

“Oh yeah,” Elena says as she laughs at the thought. “You’re not alone in that regard. Nate and I have had a couple nights like those too.”

“Oh, and then the other night he rented a car and we went for a drive. Watched the sunset and then stayed out to look at the stars.” She sighs, lost in the thought, but quickly realizes that Elena hasn’t said anything. She glances her way, then shakes her head in warning. “Elena.”

“Evie.” She replies, with a grin and a raised eyebrow. “He took you to one of the overlooks, didn’t he?”

“Well…He did, but—“

“Let me stop you. You’re going to say ‘nothing’ happened and, as your friend, I’m going to give you a word of warning that ‘nothing’ is exactly how Cassie came into the world.”

“Elena!”

Evie jumps with a start, nearly sending the tomatoes flying when she hits the container with her elbow at Nathan’s protest. She busies herself with moving it out of range as Nathan and Sam enter the open kitchen.

“It’s the truth, Nate. You were there too.”

“Still.” He says, giving Elena his best puppy-dog stare in a silent plea to not share anymore about the subject. “You don’t have to share all the details.”

“Oh believe me, that’s not anywhere near detailed. I could tell Evie all about it, but I think she’d appreciate being spared the mental image and your brother could probably do without hearing about it as well.”

Sam chuckles as Nathan and Elena playfully bicker, walking over to lean on the opposite side of the counter, and fixes Evie with his most charming smile. “Hi, there.”

“Hi.” Evie answers, breaking into a smile when he waggles an eyebrow. Only to giggle a moment later when Nathan, finished pleading with his wife, thumps his brother on the shoulder.

“Not where we eat, Sam.”

“Nathan!”

“Don’t ‘Nathan’ me. I’ve heard about way too many of your escapades over the years to trust you. I know better.”

“The Fisher-Drake kitchen is a neutral zone. Got it.” Evie says, with a barely smothered laugh as she helps Elena gather up plates and utensils so the table can be set. “We’ll just have to count that one as a loss, Sam.”

“Not you too.”

-

After lunch is finished and the quartet has dispersed through the house, Sam sets out to find Evie and give some alone time— and perhaps another attempt at popping the question — another shot… if the moment happened to be right, that is. He peeks into the kitchen and upon finding Nathan taking care of the dishes, turns his search elsewhere. The hall turns up empty and he’s not about to go searching through the bedrooms, so he turns his efforts to checking the living room and— thankfully— ends up finding just the person he’s looking for. He lingers for a moment in the doorway, then stealthily makes his way over to the couch while Evie has her attention focused elsewhere and gently tackles her onto the cushions.

“What’s gotten into you?” She asks, giggling as he peppers kisses all over her face and wriggling a bit beneath him when his free hand ghosts along her side.

“Oh, just thrilled that we’re finally alone.” 

“Uh, Sam⏤”

“Not alone, actually.”

Sam stills, then turns to face the couch opposite the one he and Evie are seated on, finding his sister-in-law watching them with an amused smile. He laughs it off and gently tugs Evie’s shirt back down from where it had ridden up. To her credit, Evie only looks mildly embarrassed and even laughs when Sam gives a joking “Right, what were we talking about?” as he moves to the other side of the couch.

“Elena and I were discussing gear. I was just telling her about the camera you bought me after I broke my old one in Rio.”

“Ah, right the uh… fancy one with all the lenses.” When Elena raises an eyebrow, Sam admits, “Honestly, I didn’t know a lot about cameras at the time. I just went into the first store I could find that sold cameras, told the person in that department that my girlfriend had just broken her very expensive camera that was extremely important for work, money was not an issue, and just to bring me the nicest camera they had for professional photography.”

“Well, you must’ve done a good job in getting your point across. From what Evie’s told me, that’s her favorite one to use both for work and personal shoots.”

“It is. You did a great job, Sam. Not to mention it was incredibly sweet of you when it was my own fault that it ended up broken in the first place.” Evie snuggles up to Sam on the couch, resting her head against his chest as he wraps an arm around her and smiles down at her.

“Sure must’ve done something right if you’re still with me after all this time.” Sam replies as their eyes meet. The both of them must be starring a bit too intensely and just a tad too long as Elena interrupts them with a pointed cough and they both guiltily turn their attention her way.

“Would you two like some alone time?”

“No,” Sam sighs in defeat but makes sure to keep his tone at least somewhat playful. “I suppose I can let you can have her for the afternoon. Nathan had some things he wanted to show me anyways.”

“Are you sure? Because I can vacate so long as the two of you promise to keep your clothes on while you’re on my couch.”

“… I’m not sure we can keep that promise. Right, Evie?”

“Sam!”

His laughter echoes through the room as he gives Evie a quick kiss and a wave before he exits the living room, leaving the duo with the promise that he would get his incredibly beautiful— a remark that makes Evie cover her face and sigh at his dramatics— girlfriend all to himself the following morning.

-

“So, what would you like to do today, love?” Sam asks over breakfast, watching as Evie blinks at him over her cup of coffee. “I’ve got you to myself all morning, so I’m completely at your mercy.”

“Completely at my mercy, hm?” She smiles before she takes another sip, humming as she runs through the options on her mind. “Why don’t we explore the town? We didn’t get to see too much of it the last time we were there, given that we were both too drunk to be concerned with anything aside getting back home.”

“If you want to explore the town, we’ll explore the town.”

“Perfect. Do you think it’d be a long walk?”

“Shouldn’t be too far, maybe fifteen minutes or so? Give or take.” He returns Evie’s smile with one of his own. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go and we’ll head out.”

Scarcely twenty minutes later, Evie and Sam head up the hill and through the neighborhood to town. They pass a handful of shops, restaurants, and even a few bars—not yet open, of course— as they wander through the streets. They walk a couple of blocks, only stopping every now and again when something catches their eye, before their path takes them to a bridge spanning across a bustling street below. Evie walks to the side of the bridge and peers down in curiosity, her delighted gasp catching Sam’s full attention. 

“Oh, look a market!” She grabs Sam’s hand and tugs him along, eager footsteps carrying the both of them down the closest flight of stairs towards the market below. “Come on, I want to look at everything!”

“Only if you promise to slow down so we don’t both fall down the stairs.” He says with a laugh, adding “I know I can catch you, but I don’t think you can catch me, doll.”

Evie shushes him but heeds his warning, slowing her footsteps to a normal pace as they continue down another set of stairs. When they hit street level she drops his hand and dashes away, her delighted cry of ‘oh, look at all the flowers!’ Sam’s only indication of where she’s disappeared to as she gets lost in the crowd. He gets a glimpse every few moments as she weaves her way between all the people gathered in the market and does his best to keep up⏤ in the end settling for just making his way towards the flower stalls. He’ll find her sooner or later. He makes his way through the crowd and finally catches up to her at a stall packed full of fragrant flowers, all in various shades of blue and purple.

He pulls out his phone and snaps a photo as she leans towards a cluster of flowers labeled ‘hyacinth’⏤ capturing her serene expression and the beauty of the sunlight glinting against her hair.  She turns towards him at the sound and shakes her head, waiting patiently as he walks over to her. He drapes an arm across her shoulders and smiles down at her before waving a hand at the array of flowers.

“If I would’ve known you loved flowers this much, I would’ve made sure you had them in the apartment back home at all times.” When she raises an eyebrow, Sam amends, “... not that we’d usually be home to take care of them. Right, maybe fake flowers then. They can’t die, so you can have them forever.”

“You’re too much sometimes.”

“That’s fair.” he muses, kissing the top of her head. “Well, if you can’t have them back home... why not pick out some here? We can keep them in the guest house and either give them to Elena to keep after we leave or we can just toss them after our stay is over.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s a bunch of empty vases under the sink⏤ plenty of options for something to keep them in. Pick out whatever kind you want, or kinds, they’re for you after all. Make yourself a bouquet, doll! I’ll buy you whatever your heart desires.”

“Oh? What if I desire something that can’t be bought?”

“Then I’ll have to find a way to work some magic. Unless you’ve got a different thing in mind. In which case, some arrangements can be made.” He leans down to whisper in her ear. “All you have to say is when.”

Evie coughs discreetly as the flower vendor eyes them with scrutiny and Sam straightens with a smile. She run her fingers over one of the hyacinth stems and hums as she weighs her options. “I like both colors. Can we make a bouquet with both the blue and purple?”

“Whatever you want.” He answers, leaving her briefly to talk to the vendor who comes back and gathers the flowers from the buckets they were arranged in. Once the flowers have been bundled and wrapped in paper he hands over a handful of bills— more than necessary but tells the vendor to keep the change. “You helped me make my girl very happy. Have a good day!” He yells, with a chuckle and a wave as Evie tugs him along to their next market destination.

He nearly thuds into the neighboring market stand of the one she stops at, when they finally come to a halt, her vibrant green eyes alight in awe as she studies the various intricate jewelry pieces on display. Sam can’t help but shake his head at her enthusiasm and the way she’s looking over the array of bracelets and necklaces. “You know,” he says as he leans close, “that one with the pendant matches your eyes quite well and it’d sit just above⏤”

“I promised Alessandra I’d find her something nice as a thank you for helping me get a flight to see you.” She interrupts, giving him a warning look before he can finish his sentence. “So if you want to help me find one that might suit her tastes?”

“I can certainly try but you know her better than I do. Maybe that red one with all the stones? She seems to like that color. Or what about⏤” He crashes into Evie when a passerby collides with him and two of them nearly upend the stall. He reaches out to steady both himself and Evie as he studies the crowd. “Watch where you’re going, yeah?” He calls with more than a little annoyance in his tone as the individual walks away and pays the two of them no mind.

“I’m so sorry,” Evie apologizes to the stall owner, who waves a hand nonchalantly and merely says it happens all the time. “By chance, would I be able to purchase this?” 

“Could I purchase this as well?” 

“Sam,” Evie glances his way after paying the stall owner and shakes her head. “You don’t have to keep buying me things.”

“Let me spoil you, doll. You came all this way to see me, it’s the least I can⏤” He reaches into his pocket and freezes, realization dawning on his face. “Son of bitch! You!” He yells as he quickly scans the crowd, then finds the person he’s looking for about five stalls down and runs towards them.

“Sam⏤” 

“Be right back, doll! Just need to have a nice chat so I can get my wallet back!”

He chases the individual through the market, leaping over chairs and vaulting over low tables in his pursuit. The chase takes him through another section of the market, down two alleyways, and through several bushes before he catches up to them in picturesque area with a large fountain and a fantastic view of the horizon. Sam stops to catch his breath, holding a hand out towards the thief who eyes him warily. “Look, I get it. Greatness from small beginnings and all that, but I really need you to give me back my wallet. Just hand it over and you can walk away.”

The thief looks him over, then bolts. Sam swears and gives chase, tackling the culprit into the grass and yanking his wallet from their grip. Target acquired, he moves to climb off of them but isn’t quick enough and promptly gets an elbow to the face. Sam topples backwards as the thief gets to their feet and runs away, disappearing back into the crowd without a backward glance. Hurried footsteps ring out on the stone path leading to the fountain and Sam winces, raising a hand to his face and the sore spot just beneath his right eye. He can already tell that he’s going to have one hell of bruise come morning.

“There you are!” Evie runs over, dropping to her knees beside him in the grass as he props himself up on his elbows and she looks him over in worry. “Oh, you’re hurt! Tell me you didn’t try to fight them?”

“I didn’t. All I did was politely ask for my wallet.” He jerks when she gently touches the blooming bruise below his eye. “Had to tackle them to get it back and apparently I didn’t let them go fast enough.”

“They punched you?”

“More like elbowed me in the face.”

“Oh, Sam.”

“Wish I could say you should see the other guy, but I’ve been on my best behavior so it would be a lie.” He chuckles as Evie’s expression grows even more concerned and shakes his head, “Swearing loudly in the middle of the market aside, of course. Hey, since I’ve got you down on the ground with me in the middle of this very picturesque park and just chased down a thief, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Sam reaches into his pocket of his jeans, intent on revealing the velvet box that’s been carried with him almost every day since she arrived… but only finds his wallet. He laughs nervously, the first time Evie’s heard him do so in almost nine years, and checks the other followed by his back pockets. Empty-handed, and thus ringless, Sam panics. “Evie, doll, have you uh… seen my lighter? Or do you perhaps have it on you?”

“Sam,” Evie answers with a frown and confusion mixed with suspicion warring in her gaze. “You quit smoking four years ago.”

“Ah, so I did.” Sam takes a breath and sits up. “Hey, Evie? Forgive me, I love you, and I promise I’ll be right back.” He bolts before she can stop him, sprinting in the direction he saw the thief go in though he knows it’s a long shot at best. He dashes through the crowd on the far side of the park and scans the area for any side paths or inconspicuous exits, relying on his years of treasure hunting to try and think like a thief. It takes one to know one after all.

He spots a side street to the left and dashes down it, emerging in another bustling park full of people. Unfortunately, the culprit is nowhere to be found. Sam  spits out a string of lengthy curses that would make even the most vulgar of people color a few shades and offers an apologetic smile at a woman who passes by— glaring all the while — with two children in tow.

“Really fucked up this time, didn’t I?” He muses, intent on finding his way back to Evie when his phone rings. He answers without checking the screen, leading in with a sheepish laugh. “Hey, doll, I swear I can explain⏤”

“Explain what?” 

“…Nathan?”

“Didn’t you check before you answered the phone? Yes, it’s Nathan. So what were you needing to explain to Evie?”

“Nothing.” Sam says quickly, jogging back to the side street. “Did you need us to pick up something while we were out or…?”

“No, I’m pretty sure Evie picked up anything we could’ve needed when she grabbed groceries the other day. I just called to let you know you might be missing something important.” Nate pauses, then laughs at Sam’s bewildered silence. “Maybe a little box with a ring in it?”

“You’re joking. You better be joking, Nathan.”

“Nope, I’ve got it right here in my hand. You know, you’re lucky I found it before Elena or Cassie did.”

“Where was it? Are you⏤ Seriously? Out of all the fucking places I could’ve left it⏤ No, no, it’s fine. Just hang onto it until we come back. I bought Evie flowers so I’ll hide it again when I put those away.” He emerges back in the original area he’d left Evie in and finds her perched on the edge of the fountain, staring up at the statue of two lovers in the center. “Thanks again, Nathan. I gotta go, I’m back with Evie. We’ll see you later.”

She turns her head at his approach and offers a soft smile. “Find what you were looking for?”

“No,” he answers sheepishly, sitting down beside her on the edge of the fountain and gently bumping her arm as he reaches out and rests one of his hands over her own. “Turns out I left it at Nate and Elena’s. I’m sorry for running off on you.”

“It’s alright. You wouldn’t have dashed off like that if it weren’t important, though I do wish you would’ve been honest about it.” Sam hangs his head in shame, gaze downcast in response to her words. “I won’t ask because I’m guessing it’s meant to be a surprise but just say you lost something next time, okay?”

“It really is meant to be a surprise for you and it was… rather expensive. So I just said whatever came to mind. Didn’t want to ruin it. You… ready to head back for the day?”

“Yeah, I’ve got my flowers and the jewelry I bought. Plus the one you wanted to buy me. The vendor said it was a two for one deal, but I think they felt bad about what happened.”

“Sorry.”

“For getting your wallet stolen?” 

“Evie.”

“It’s fine, Sam. Really. I promise. Let’s just go home, ok?”

Sam gives her a look that says he doesn’t quite agree or believe her but nods and drapes an arm around her shoulders as they walk back to the car. The drive home is mostly quiet, interrupted only by Evie cheerfully singing along to songs on the radio in an attempt to get Sam to cheer up. Her efforts work for the most part and she’s able to a least get a chuckle out of him when she bumps up the volume and dramatically sings along to a cheesy love song. He seems to be in better spirits by the time they return to the Fisher-Drake residence and is all smiles as Cassie greets them, even encouraging Evie to go with his niece as she eagerly asks about teaching her to surf. 

“Well… it does sound fun and if your uncle is okay with being without me for a bit?”

“Go have fun, doll.”

Evie glances back at Sam one more time before following after Cassie, who’s eagerly sprinting towards the main house to fetch her suit and board. As Cassie disappears into the house, Evie veers off to the guest house and goes inside to change. Sam reluctantly takes advantage of the time alone to take a solo stroll along the far side beach in attempt to rid himself of his somber mood. Another thwarted attempt isn’t the end of it all, and it certainly doesn’t mean he can’t try to propose— again — another day at a hopefully more opportune time. It’s not the end all be all, really. Yet… Sam can’t help but feel discouraged when faced with the fact that each time he’s tried to ask Evie to marry him at what he thought was the perfect time, it’s been ruined.

 He comes to halt a good distance down from both the guest and main house, staring out at the ocean as his thoughts mirror the turmoil of the waves. Is he really just that bad at timing? Or is it a sign that perhaps Evie deserves better than anything he can offer her? The thought only sours his mood further and he scowls at the rolling waves, not hearing the footsteps slowly approaching where he stands until it’s too late.

“Been together a long time, haven’t ya.” Sully’s voice shatters Sam’s train of thought and he chuckles just a little when he turns to face him in surprise.

“Ten years.” Sam answers, shaking his head as he looks back at the horizon. “I wasn’t sure you were actually going to join us, old man.”

Sully sighs and takes another sip of his beer as he overlooks the ocean⏤ choosing to ignore Sam’s jokingly intended remark. Nate had warned him that Sam had seemed off upon his return with Evie and asked Sully to offer what advice he could, though Sully himself wasn’t quite certain he was the right person for this particular job. “She’s a rare woman.” He begins, pausing for a moment as he tries to find a way to best broach the subject with Sam. “Surprised she’s stayed with you all these years. You’ve never seemed the type to be a one-woman kind of man.”

“That’s a bit of a low blow, Victor.”

“I’m just speaking the truth here.” Sully protests, already off to a bad start. A stretch of uncomfortable silence falls, broken only by the sound of the crashing waves and Evie’s laughter from further down the beach as Cassie tries to teach her to surf to little avail. “You ever gonna tie the knot?”

“I’m working on it.”

“She might not wait around forever.” Sully’s way of saying ‘keep trying, kid’ that thankfully seems to get him somewhere.

“I said I’m working on it. I’ve got the ring. Had it for five years now.”

“Sam, if you’ve had the ring for that long why haven’t you—“

“Oh, not you too. I’ve already had this lecture once this week.” Sam holds a hand up as if to ward off Sully’s next words and finds the weight of the stare focused on him to be even worse than whatever he’d been about to say. “Fine. What is it this time, Victor?”

“Just... maybe you’re getting cold feet about it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam laughs and waves a hand in Evie’s and Cassie’s direction. “I’ve been with Evie for ten years. Ten. What’s there to be apprehensive about?”

“Well, from what Nate said and what I’ve seen you’ve never been one to be tied down. You’re the poster child for commitment issues, for christsakes.”

“Oh you’re one to talk. What about Alessandra, huh?”

“I’m an old man, Sam. She’s a lot younger than I am and that’s a whole different ball game.”

“Oh really? How is dancing around committing to a relationship for three years any different than you trying to tell me that I’m having second thoughts about my girlfriend who I’ve been with for ten years?”

“Sam⏤”

“You know what, Victor? Maybe I haven’t asked her yet, not because I’m doubting that it’s what I want but because I want it to be perfect for her. Because I think she deserves better than some idiot who can’t get the question right on the fifth try and maybe, because every single attempt I’ve made at trying to make this the best I can has been ruined by something!”

A blanket of silence falls, interrupted only by the sound of the rolling waves, as the two of them stand awkwardly before each other. Sam runs a hand through his hair and looks skywards, slightly ashamed at his outburst… and the fact that Evie⏤ not to mention the rest of his family⏤ had likely heard him. It was certainly looking as if the evening could and would be far worse than the day had been. Sully taps a finger against his beer bottle, then sighs.

“Listen, Sam, I shouldn’t have pushed you on the whole thing with Evie. But that bit about Alessandra and I⏤ that was uncalled for.”

“Truce?”

“We’ll call a damn truce.” Sully answers gruffly, laughing a bit despite himself when Sam thumps him on the back. “One last thing though…”

“Victor⏤”

“Now, hear me out kid. You’re so concerned about it being absolutely goddamn perfect… maybe that’s your problem. You focus too much on the details and when things start going wrong, you get the idea in your head that it’s not good enough for her. You love her, don’t you? Want to spend the rest of your life with her, settle down, have a family of your own? Then that’s all that matters.” Sully pats him on the shoulder and adds, “That girl loves you more than anything, Sam. It’ll be perfect for her no matter how you go about it.” as he walks back to the main house to say goodnight to Nate and Elena before he heads back to town and his hotel.

“Thanks, Victor.” Sam mutters, heaving a sigh before starting down the beach⏤ intent on finding Evie and getting her away from his niece so everyone, Cassie included, could finally call it a night. The expanse of beach is empty, even the dock void of it’s usual four legged occupant and it’s at that moment that Sam realizes just how late into the evening it’s become. “Well, guess everyone’s headed in for the night.”

He walks down the beach a ways, then crosses to the guest house and waves to Nathan who yells “goodnight!” as he lets Victoria, who’d been waiting patiently on the front deck, back in for the evening. Sam enters the guesthouse with a tired sigh and is disappointed when he finds both the kitchen and living area empty. His shoulders slump a little at the idea that she may have already gone to bed without him, but he perks up at the sound of movement from the bedroom.

Sam quickly makes his way through the guest house and dramatically leans around the bedroom doorframe, a frown etching itself across his face as he finds the bed and surrounding area as empty as the rest of the rooms. He straightens and crosses to the bed, dropping onto it with a sigh of defeat as Evie emerges from the bathroom damp haired and wearing a robe.

“I wondered when you’d come in.”

“I thought you’d gone ahead to bed without me.” He answers patting the space beside him and grinning when Evie offers a soft smile and a shake of her head. 

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” 

“All those nightly phone calls would seem to suggest that but I can never be too sure.” He pats the space beside him once more and flashes a triumphant grin when she complies.

Evie sits down next to him and lets him take the towel from her without any fuss, closing her eyes as he gently towels her hair dry. It’s something she’s told him time and time again that he doesn’t have to do for her but he always insists⏤ cutting off any protest she makes by remarking that it never tangles when he does it. It’s a small thing, true, but it’s something he’s done for her since they first moved in with one another all those years ago. 

“You seemed upset earlier. What were you were talking with Sully about?” She muses, only becoming concerned when Sam’s movements still and the towel slips from her hair as he stands and walks back to the bathroom to hang it up without a word. “Sam?”

“It’s wasn’t anything important.” He walks back into the bedroom and lays on his side of the bed, one hand tucked beneath his head. “Lay down with me? I haven’t had you to myself all day.”

Evie sighs playfully⏤ as if it’s some big ordeal⏤ and cuddles up to him, resting her head on his chest as he wraps his free arm around her. “It’s not like you to get upset over things you don’t think are important.” She feels Sam wilt beneath her touch and sits up, her gaze soft as a look of defeat crosses his face. “I’m not going to push you on it… but I do think you could use something to take your mind off whatever it is that’s bothering you.”

“What’d you have in mind, doll?”

She doesn’t answer, merely climbs onto his lap and loosens the belt of her robe with a raised brow instead⏤ an action Sam returns with his signature grin. He rests his hands on her thighs, slowly sliding his palms up the soft skin and beneath her robe… and quirks a brow when he finds far less fabric than he expected. 

“Planning on seducing me, were you?” 

“I still can if you get your pants off.”

“Just my pants?”

“Well, it’d be a lot more fun with all your clothes off but I can make do if you’d rather be lazy about it.” She teases, laughing when he presses a hand to his chest as if wounded. “So how about it?”

“Hm,” he muses, sliding his hands back down her legs until they rest just above her knees. “I’d say have at it, and that this reminds me of our first date. You know, I still think a hat really would’ve made the whole thing. I’d b⏤”

“I swear if the word stallion leaves your mouth, you’ll be sleeping in the living room.” At Sam’s laugh she tacks on a stern, “I’m not joking.”

“I’m just playing, doll. Not about the memory, of course.”

“I can see your⏤ point!” Evie’s voice cuts off in a small shriek as Sam quickly flips her over and pins her to the mattress. “Sam⏤” She barely gets his name out before he’s leaning in for a kiss and any and all coherent thought flies out the window.

His hands are as busy as his mouth, deftly tugging the top her robe open and sliding ever downwards to undo the belt holding the rest of it closed. He stops for a moment when her fingertips slide beneath the edge of his shirt, grazing just above the top of his pants and tracing lazy circles against his skin.

“Evie, that is… very distracting.”

“I don’t think it’ll be any fun for you if I’m the only one naked.” She counters, ceasing her movements to tug at his shirt instead. “Take your shirt and your pants off and then you can get back to what you had planned.” She adds, looking up at him with a seductive grin.

Sam rocks back onto his knees and yanks his shirt over his head, tossing it off into the depths of the darkened room. He undoes the button his pants and climbs off the bed to let the article of clothing fall to the floor. He fixes his gaze on Evie, love and lust glimmering in his eyes, as he drops his boxers as well before he gets back into bed with her— Evie’s barely half-closed robe the only thing keeping them from being skin to skin. He places a hand on either side of her and settles between her legs, a smirk gracing his face at the way her mouth drops open and her pupils blow wide. It’s far from the first time they’ve done this, but Sam’s a bit proud to say he gets the same reaction every time.

“Think you could lose that robe now?”

Evie nods and quickly wriggles out of it, her giggle as Sam yanks it out from beneath her and tosses it into the depths of the bedroom replaced by a soft moan as he rolls his hips and grinds down against her. She returns his movement with her own, nails digging into his back as she bucks her hips upwards— her eagerness earning a laugh from Sam as he kisses her. They continue this way for some time, wandering hands sure to leave marks as things become more and more heated. 

Eventually the two of them decide enough is enough— Evie’s annoyed whine when Sam retreats only further cementing the fact. “Sam, I swear— Just—“

“Ah, small problem, doll.” Sam stills, his hands firmly locked on Evie’s hips to halt any further movements she might attempt to make. He presses his forehead against her own snd loosens his grip, a disgruntled sigh escaping him as he speaks. “I don’t know where I put the condoms.”

“Is that all?” Evie asks with a hint of a smile and amusement barely hidden in her voice as she runs her hands along his shoulders, down his arms, and back up again. “Sam, it’s fine. I’m okay with it if you are.”

“Are you sure?”

“There’s no guarantee one time will be the charm, you know.” She lifts a hand to the nape of his neck and runs her fingers through his hair, gently urging him down to her. “Even if it were guaranteed... well, I have to admit a little baby version of you would be very cute.”

Sam pulls back to gaze at her, adoration heavy in his eyes. “What did I do to deserve you.” He murmurs, leaning back down to kiss her as he takes himself in hand and presses inside her. Evie exhales a breathy moan into the kiss as he slowly rocks his hips into her own, setting a slow and sensual pace. He trails a line of kisses to her neck and nips at the skin, smirking when she digs her nails into his back as he gives a particularly hard surge of his hips. “God, I love you.” He murmurs, sliding a hand beneath her back in an attempt to press her even closer.

“I love you too, Sam. More than— Oh—” She stops talking and clings tightly to him, on hand tangled in his hair and the other entwined with his own as they both cross the edge one after the other.

-

Sam wakes hours later, rolling onto his back and glancing to his left, where Evie lies sprawled languidly next to him with the blanket drawn up over her chest. She’s sleeping soundly, apparently exhausted from the day’s⏤ and night’s⏤ events. He smiles to himself and rolls carefully onto his side as he reaches over to open the top drawer of the bedside table. He spots the familiar box and breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that Nathan had stashed the object where he’d been hiding it for the entire stay thus far. He chides himself for ever leaving it out in the open to begin with and takes the box in hand as he rolls back over, thumping his head back onto the pillow. “Attempt number five, another failure. I can’t believe I’ve messed up every single time.”

“Messed up every time at what?” Evie asks with a yawn as she moves over to snuggle up to him and rests her head on his chest. Her gaze settles on the object held in his hand and she squints at it in confusion, still slightly sleep addled.“Sam, what’s that?”

He stiffens, fingers closing around the velvet box in an attempt to hide it. He chides himself for getting it out; even more so for taking it out post-sex. How on earth was that romantic? He tells himself he can play it off, wait and see if she falls back asleep, bluff, anything. Until Evie sits up, the sheet clutched against her chest as she stares him down with a still sleepy emerald gaze.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” He hesitates, then sighs in defeat as he sits up as well. “This is not how I wanted to do this. I mean, we’re alone which was part of the goal but I wanted it to be— Evie? Doll, what’s on your mind?”

“Sam, are you...” She says, voice soft and hesitant as he studies her.

“Am I—“

“Are you... breaking up with me?”

Out of all the things she could’ve said, all variations of ‘proposing’ in his head, to say that was the most unexpected would be an understatement.

“What? Am I— Am I breaking up with you?” He drops the box on the bedside table and reaches for her, warm hands pulling her close. “Jesus Christ, Evie, no. Why would you think that?”

“You led with how it wasn’t how you wanted to do this and I just thought of all the things you tried to do this past week... I thought maybe you were trying to soften the blow.”

“... Do you want to break-up?” He asks carefully, brow furrowed in worry as he looks down at her still holding her tightly.

“No, of course not!”

“Oh, good, good. That is a relief, let me tell you.” Sam kisses her on the cheek and then on the mouth— long and deep. “Oh, I could not have screwed this up any more if I tried.” He murmurs as he breaks the kiss and releases her from the embrace while he leans over to grab the black velvet box again. This time, he holds it normally and makes no attempt to hide it as he watches her reaction.

“Sam?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I bought before I even had a plan for how I was going to do this. Jesus, I even asked Nathan for advice.” He shakes his head and glances down at the box held in his palm. “He said when the moment was right, that I would know.” He falls silent for a time, rubbing his fingers across the soft surface before he speaks again— looking into her eyes this time. “The moment’s been right for a while, even more so since you surprised me here. I just... wanted it to be perfect. Romantic, something you’d remember for all the right reasons.”

“Oh my—“

“So, knowing full well that I have screwed this up worse than anything else I’ve ever done, I’m going to try anyway.” He opens the lid and holds it aloft towards her. “Miss Evelyn Crane, my absolutely beautiful Evie... will you marry me?”

Evie drops the sheet, flinging herself towards him and wrapping her arms around him— nearly knocking him flat. She holds him tightly and he makes a weak joke “that bad, huh.” when he hears her choke back a sob, then laugh.

“Oh, Sam.” She moves back, putting just a bit of space between them and clutches the sheet to her chest with one hand while scrubbing at her tears with the other. “Hang on, I need a minute.”

“If you’re going to say no, I’d rather you just put me out of my misery.”

“Samuel.”

“Kidding.” A pause, “I deserve the full name, I did use yours. My mistake. Start over when you’re ready?” She laughs and he takes that as a yes. “Miss Evie Crane, will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She leans in and cups his face with both hands as she kisses him. “Yes, Sam Drake, I’ll marry you.”

Later that morning when the sun has finally made it’s ascent and most of the Drakes and their visitors and have settled onto the front porch, Nate finally checks his phone and sees he’d received a message from his brother in the early morning hours along with a photo.

Sam [2:06 AM]

It’s official!

[Attached is a photo of Sam and Evie kissing, her hand held high in his own to showcase the sparkling ring on her finger.]

“Alright, he finally did it! Elena, look!”

“What happened?”

“Your Uncle Sam finally proposed to your Aunt Evie.”

“They’re getting married? That’s awesome!” Cassie turns to face Sully, who’s already nursing a beer in the early a.m. “Uncle Sully, doesn’t that mean it’s your turn?”

The table erupts in laughter as a sputtering Sully nearly sprays his beer across the expanse of white sand beneath them.

“She’s not wrong, Sully. Elena and I got married, Sam and Evie are getting married... you’re the last one left.”

“Nate.”

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets - Part 3

Requested: No

Word Count: 1719

Warning: Cursing, A lot of cursing. Don’t read if you can’t handle the F-Bomb..lol

Song Inspiration: Always by Gavin James

POV: Tyler

Notes: I wasn’t sure about writing more but like the way this turned out. Working on Part 4 already.

You thought your heart had splintered into a thousand pieces the day she left; until this moment you didn’t think it could break anymore. That was until that one single tear slid down her cheek, and your heart shattered even more. She shed millions that night she closed the door on you; truth be told so had you. But right now, that single tear was your undoing. Maybe you shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t have come up to her. You should’ve let her move on with her life; but you were a selfish bastard, needing her back. Without conscience thought your arm moved, your thumb brushing it away; hoping to wipe away all the sins of your past with it.

 You thought the contact would make her run; instead she just stared at you; eyes bright with unshed tears. It would be so easy to just move your hand, cup her cheek and bring her lips to yours; but it wouldn’t solve any of your problems. Words formed in your brain but none of them made sense; they wouldn’t make her understand the nightmare you were living. A nightmare that you’d made.

 Time stood still, you weren’t sure if minutes or hours passed as the two of you looked into each other eyes; hers searching for answers, while yours asked for forgiveness. Someone walked by, glancing your way; the small movement breaking the spell that had captured you both. If you didn’t say something now, you’d miss your opportunity; never knowing when or if you’d see her again. Muscles in your jaw ticked as you tried to formulate the words; only two simple ones able to slip free. “I’m sorry.”

 She halted any others that would follow, with her own. “Not here, not now.”

 “When?” it was all you could ask. Blood rushed to your ears, the sound coming from your heart finally beating again in your chest.  She wasn’t forgiving you by any means; you weren’t fooling yourself into believing she was. But this, this gave you hope; that there was still a molecule of a chance to get her back into your life.

 “I…this…I need to…” you knew what she was trying to say. That she’d come here with someone else; someone more worthy of her love than you were. You weren’t going to let that deter you. You had known her love, felt it, flourished in it; were determined to win it back. That some upper-class big shot wanted to take it from you, made you boil with anger. Thoughts of him touching her, caressing her, making love to her; made your skin crawl. But you wouldn’t think about that now. You needed to focus, remind the woman standing only inches away from you that your love was worth fighting for.

 “I know,” you finally breathed out.

 “Give me an hour. I’ll meet you at our usual place.” With that she turned, walking back into the ballroom. You stood there, hand still in midair from where you were just touching her cheek; willing your racing heart to a normal pace. Hands falling to your side you watched her go; until she was out of your line of vision. Only then did you move, leaving the foyer heading straight to the valet.

You jumped in the vehicle as it pulled along the curb; the destination your sole focus at the moment. It was a simple place; one you had been to with (Y/N) a thousand times, yet it held so many memories. You had taken her there the day after you met her, when she’d woken up in your arms. There had been five of you that time, and vaguely you wondered if you should make a pit stop and bring the pups with you. No, this wasn’t the time for that. The car rounded the corner and there it was; a small park on the edge of your neighborhood.

 Removing your tie, you strode over the bench under the tree where you had carved your initials. Corny didn’t begin to describe the moment, but it was fitting. You had made your declaration of love to her that day; wanting something to commemorate it. Running your hand across the indentation now it seemed tainted; tainted by that vile act you’d chosen over her. Tonight, you’d make amends.

It wouldn’t be long now, the time on your watch telling you so. Headlights shown in the small lot across from you; she was early. Inhaling sharply, you took a deep breath of the cool crisp air to gather your courage. Her figure appeared, still wearing the damn dress that made her look like a goddess and left nothing to the imagination. Hands down she was the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen. So why you let a fake pair of tits and colored contacts sway you away from her; you’d never know.

Standing there, hands in your pockets, so you wouldn’t reach for her; she was finally by your side. “You look beautiful.” While the words were true, they also helped fill the void. She crossed her arms over her chest, protecting herself from what was to come, accentuating the fullness of her breasts at the same time. Hands running through your hair, you tried to calm your nerves.

“Maybe this was a bad idea.” It was barely a whisper but you heard it all the same. You’d stalled enough, if you didn’t say anything now, she would leave. It would be over then, no coming back, no second chance.

“You have to know how sorry I am (Y/N). She meant nothing.” You knew it wouldn’t be enough, but at least it was a start.

“Then why? How long was it going on? Did we mean nothing?” All this while she paced back and forth.

“It was only once, I swear.” It was the easiest question to answer first. “I don’t really know why.” It was both truth and lie. “It’s complicated.”

“Well then explain it to me Tyler!” she spat back at you. “I’m smart; I’m sure I can figure it out.” 

“Okay, Fuck! Where do I start.” Her foot tapped with her impatience. “It wasn’t anything I had planned. You were gone. I was lonely. And before you say anything that’s not my excuse. It’s just….” Another deep breath and you continued. “I started having doubts, not about us, it was never about us. God, don’t you know I fucking love you.”

“Yeah you fucking loved me so much you let some whore suck your cock. That’s not love Tyler, if that’s your idea of it, I don’t know what the fuck we were.”

“Jesus, let me finish will you.” You knew this wouldn’t be easy, but that she was questioning whether or not you ever loved her, fuck that never crossed your mind. “I doubted myself, ok. I doubted whether I could be a good boyfriend, a good husband, a good father; all the things I wanted to give you; I just didn’t know if I could. And what did I do, I fucking proved myself right. I know I’m not good enough for you; but damn it, I want to be. I can’t change what happened. You have to know, if I could I would. I just…..” you trailed off; the unspoken words of wanting another chance hanging in the air between you.

She wasn’t having any of it at the moment. “Why did she say, you were her boyfriend?” the last part spoken on a sob.

“I was never; I mean never, her boyfriend. It was one fucking night! God, only an hour at most.”

“Don’t, try to minimalize it.”

“I wasn’t!” you practically screamed it at her, trying to get your point across. Her head whipped up to your face; daring you to use that tone with her again. “I’m sorry.” It was only the second time you’d said it tonight; she needed to hear it a hundred more. “Look, she texted me saying she’d go public with the other photos if I denied she was. You know my contract was coming up. I didn’t want to screw that up. I thought I could explain, make you understand; that she meant nothing, absolutely nothing to me. But you gotta know, the minute you walked out that door nothing else matter. I tried to fix it, I untagged myself, posted pictures of us; anything I could fucking think of. I needed everyone to know it wasn’t her, that it was you; only you. It’s only ever going to be you.”

You could see her thinking, weighing the words you just said. Hand shaking you reached out and touched her arm, willing her to believe you. She didn’t flinch away from you. Taking that as a good sign you pushed forward. “I love you (Y/N). I’m never going to love anyone else. I know I fucked up, more than fucked up. But if you just give me a chance, I’ll never fuck up again.”

There were tears streaming down her cheeks now, every single one of them ripping you into tiny shreds. “How can you be so sure?” It was barely a whisper, her head looking down; not able to look you in the eye.

“Look at me, (Y/N).” Arms spread wide; you were challenging her to see what had become of you. “I’m broken without you. I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see your face when you left me. It tears me apart.” It was an admission you didn’t want to make, but one that you needed to say. “I can’t even play anymore. I’m just going through the damn motions; and I don’t fucking care. Screw hockey!”

“Don’t say that Ty.”

 “Why it’s the truth. I’d give it all up, right now. Just say the word.” It was as honest a statement as anything you’d said all night. You’d give it all up, your career, hockey, anything she wanted if she’d just come back.

 “You can’t put that on me. That’s not fair. I know how much you love hockey.”

 “But I love you more.” And there it was, the crux of it. If you’d only trusted in that love that night three months ago; you wouldn’t be here now; begging for her forgiveness, for her to take you back. 

[hope-for-olicity]

Leaves of Change 8/31

Felicity Smoak returns to her small hometown of Silver Lake just in time for the Harvest Fest, she came home to get grounding and figure out what she wants to do next the last thing she expected was that she’d want to stay.

Happy Belated Birthday to my dear friend @stephswims! This one is for you! Thanks so much to @mel-loves-all for the truly stunning edit. Also full disclosure, I’m Canadian so Thanksgiving will be October.

Each chapter will follow a Fictober prompt, I can’t guarantee that I’ll post daily like last year but I will post regularly. I hope you enjoy. This and all other chapters of the story are also available on AO3.

8. “Can you stay?”

Oliver got back into his running jeep. “Here you go,” he handed Felicity a navy coat, “I know it will be a bit big but it will keep you warm. Plus, we can grab a spot near the fire.”

Felicity resisted sighing from happiness. Her whole life she had been cold, most people humoured her but this was the first time someone had gone out of their way to keep her warm. “Thank you, I greatly appreciate this. I’ll be sure to go shopping tomorrow for my own.”

“Keep that as long as you like. No rush.”

“Thanks for suggesting the bonfire. I saw a sign for it but my Mom was going with Captain Lance and I didn’t want to be a third wheel. But now…”

“Now, you have a date.” Oliver took his eyes off the road for a minute to smile at her.

“I do. Lucky me.” Felicity beamed.

Oliver pulled his jeep into the parking area. “Lots of cars, good turn out. That’s nice for the town. I know people work hard to make this event a success. The money raised tonight will go to the animal shelter. Each event donates money to a different cause. We have one coming up that will benefit my school.”

“Such a great idea! People get to have fun and donate money to worthy causes. Do you have a pet, Oliver?” 

They began walking down the slope of gravel toward the bonfire, Felicity had worn her high boots not knowing she would be going to a beach. She was being cautious but still felt herself slip a little. Oliver grabbed her arm. “I got you.” He kept her arm until they reached the bottom.

“Okay, that was charming. You get points for rescuing the damsel in distress but I must warn you, I rarely play that role.”

“Understood, but during this rare moment let me also fix those sleeves for you.” Oliver knelt down a little and began rolling up the sleeve on the oversized jacket for her. “Now, you will be able to hold food and drink - you know, the important stuff.” Oliver chuckled. “Back to your previous question, I don’t have any pets. I always wanted a dog but I’m not home enough.”

Felicity felt Oliver’s fingers rub against her wrists as he rolled the coat sleeves up. She couldn’t help but shiver.

“Don’t worry we will move next to the fire as soon as we grab food. You will be warm in no time.”

“Thanks.” Felicity was already getting warmer. She pushed her nose down into the jacket, all she could smell was Oliver. She could get used to this. “I guess you are used to crouching down, given your students.”

“It’s true, I do like to meet them at their level. But I have to be careful, apparently, once you hurt your knee, it can always fare up again. Ready for food?” Oliver nodded toward the food tent.

“Yes, please FEED ME.”

~~~~~

Oliver felt like the luckiest man in the world as he led Felicity over to the food tent. “So, tell me what would you like to eat? Hamburger, hotdog or both. There will be no judgement from me.”

“Both then and some chips too, please.”

They waited in line for their turn to order. Oliver was surprised to find his mother behind the counter. “Mom, I didn’t know you were volunteering tonight.” Please don’t embarrass me in front of Felicity was all he could think.

“Oliver! Is that Felicity? Did you come together?”

“Hi, Ms. Queen, nice to see you. Yes, we are here together. Your boy told me he’d get me something to eat.”

“Well, I’d best get on that.” Moira turned back to Oliver. “I’m filling in as one of the volunteers is sick. What can I get you and your lady friend?” Moira winked.

Oliver thought he would die. “We would like two hotdogs, two burgers, a bag of plain chips,” he quickly turned to Felicity. “Drink?”

“Diet Coke if they have it, otherwise water.”

Oliver turned back to his mother, “two Diet Cokes.”  

“How about I include two brownies?”

“Do they have nuts?” Oliver asked quickly.

“Yes, but you like nuts.” His mother began to put two in a bag.

“No thanks, Mom. Felicity is allergic to nuts so we will skip the brownies.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Moira gave an apologetic look to Felicity.

Oliver paid, leaving a tip for the volunteers.

“Here are your drinks, your number is 14, you can pick up the food at the end “

“Thanks, Mom.” Oliver smiled and began to walk away.

“Call me tomorrow, Oliver.” 

Moira said it with a smile but it was more of a demand than a request.

Oliver turned back to Felicity. “Here, why don’t you take the drinks and grab a spot by the fire. I’ll be there soon with our food.” 

“How did you know?” Felicity stood there with mouth agape.

“Know what?” Oliver was suddenly worried he had done something wrong. He began running through the things he said in his head.

“About my allergy. I didn’t tell you. Did someone tell you the embarrassing story?” Felicity’s face was flush.

“Hey,” before he could think twice he pulled her in for a hug. He ran his hand over the back of her soft hair. “Don’t worry, I don’t know any embarrassing story. Caitlin mentioned your allergy tonight when I was going get us some coffee cake. But if you ever feel like telling the story, I’d be happy to listen.”

Felicity pulled back and looked up at him. “You really are super charming. I’m going to grab us a spot.”

Oliver watched her walk away.

“Number 14!” 

“That’s me!” Oliver turned to collect their food.

~~~~~

Good job, Felicity. He probably thinks you are overly sensitive now. She admonished herself as she looked for a spot next to the fire. 

After surveying the direction the wind was blowing, she sat on the opposite side to avoid sparks. She looked as Oliver headed her way. He really was a beautiful man.

“Here we go!” Oliver handed her a bag, kept one for himself and put a small one on the ground. Putting to the bag on the ground. “Chips and condiments. There is already ketchup on both as I remembered how much you loved that.”

“I do! In fact, it’s all I need. Thank you so much for remembering. And thank you for looking out for the nuts, sorry I acted weird. You are very kind, Oliver.”

“Thank you. You did not act weird. Plus, our night would end far too early if you got sick.” Oliver took a bite of his hamburger. 

Felicity noticed he accidentally got ketchup on his face. “You got a little,” Felicity pointed to Oliver’s cheek.

“Oh,” Oliver grabbed a napkin and quickly moved to wipe his face. “Gone?”

Felicity shook her head, she chuckled as he tried again, before leaning forward with a napkin of her own, “may I?”

Oliver nodded.

All the other noise seemed to stop around them. She heard the crackling of the fire, her heartbeat and Oliver’s breathing as she leaned closer. She wiped away the ketchup, she was about to sit back when Oliver grabbed her wrist. 

“Have I been charming enough yet to know what you were thinking about earlier?” His voice had deepened showing he was also impacted by their closeness.

Felicity paused for a second before looking down at Oliver’s lips then looking back up to meet his gaze. She could see his pupils were dilated. “I was thinking about I how much I want to ki...”

She was cut off by Oliver’s lips. Not that she minded. He was gentle, yet possessive. She felt his hand cup her cheek as she moved in closer, deepening the kiss. 

It was at that point they both heard the whistles of teenage boys. 

Felicity smiled and moved back to her seat. “Oops, forgot where we were. Sorry, about that. I understand if you want to leave. I didn’t mean…”

“Felicity, it’s okay, I kissed you, remember? And I hope to do it again soon, preferably without an audience.”

Felicity chuckled before taking a bite of her burger.

“Can you stay? I understand if you want me to take you home but I’d like you to stay. Finish our food, check out the band.”

“Sure, I’d love to stay with you, Oliver.” Tonight and for many nights to come, she thought to herself.

Thanks so much for reading! Tagging a few people. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged.

@memcjo @stephswims @it-was-a-red-heeler @cruzrogue @mel-loves-all @tdgal1 @vaelisamaza @onceuponarrow @msbeccieboo @lucyyh @julieofrandomfandoms @morganashimi83

[dabblinginmarvel]

Thumbelina

Request: dadtony challenge: may we have an imagine with mutant!reader, where they’re basically like, fuckin thumbelina? just five inches of whoop ass, and tony makes them some very tiny little dragonfly wings so they can actually get around avengers tower? or just general domesticity with a reader who can only shake hands properly with ant-man, living with all the avengers (feat. peter he’s honorary)

Plot: You, Tony Stark’s kid, have the ability to shrink and grow on command as a mutant, but you get stuck about five inches tall after practicing with your ability.

A/N: Writing this reminded me I have to work on “Part of That World,” oops.

Warnings: None, maybe one small bad word?

Word Count Total: 1226

Short Imagine #277

Title: Thumbelina

You grumbled to yourself as you hopped down the stairs, one at a time.

Well, more like fell down the stairs. You had to practically drop down cliff after cliff when going downstairs, hoping no one would step on you.

You’d really done it this time. You were stuck at the size of a thumb, and now you couldn’t get back. Somehow, your shrinking abilities had gotten stuck and there was no telling how long you would be like this.

Last night, you tried to play it of with your dad, but you had also been under the impression you wouldn’t be like this for long. That had been a mistake.

So now here you were falling down the stairs. Trying to get back up them was going to be hell.

You ran toward the main living space and fought to climb up one of the grey chairs. Now, you had to wait for someone - anyone - to enter the room and be able to help you down to your father’s robotics lab.

As people started to pass through the room - Sam, Steve, Peter - you called out to them. They couldn’t hear you. When Scott passed by, you screamed and his head spun around for what likely sounded like a squeak. You frantically waved your arms, trying not to fall off the chair. “Over here!”

Scott’s eyebrows knitted together and he bent down to look at you.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he said and you put your hands over your ears. It was loud. “Sorry,” he said in a quieter tone.

“I got stuck looking like Thumbelina and I can’t regrow! I don’t know what to do. Can you take me down to Dad’s lab please?”

He nodded, then extended his hand. You hopped on and he lifted his hand slowly to his shoulder, letting you get comfortable there. You gripped your fists tightly in his cotton shirt and you told him you were good to go.

Riding on the shoulder of a giant was something you expected to be philosophical, but you just focused on not falling off. He was courteous enough to take the elevator, but the ride down was still bumpy. You had expected Scott to be chatty, but he only asked a few quiet questions here and there about school, which was nice since everything was ten times louder at this size.

Despite Sctt using his other hand to knock on the door to your father’s lab, you could still feel the vibrations in the shoulder you were holding on to. The answer took a moment, but the intercom crackled (loudly) to life.

“Who is it?”

You assumed things had gotten bad again for your dad, or else he wouldn’t have locked himself in the lab to work with tweaking his suits again despite his promise to your mom, Pepper. At least he turned off the suits at night and coded FRIDAY to only release them if you and he or he and your mom both gave the codeword simultaneously. In the event of any malfunctions, she also had a charm on a bracelet you and she both had that identified her as a non-threat. He wasn’t going to put her, or you, through that incident again.

“It’s Scott, we have a minor issue,” he said quietly. The door mechanically unlocked and Scott pushed his way in.

“Scott, what is so important right now?”

He pointed at you on his shoulder. “Y/N.”

Your dad dropped the tool in his hand and rushed over to you both. “What the hell happened?”

You took in a deep breath. “I got stuck!”

“Well, I can see that.” He held out his hand and you clambered on.

“Thanks, Scott!”

He did a mock salute in return, then turned around. He knew your dad was thankful with the slight nod he gave him.

Dad cleared a space on the table for you, then let you hop off. “Alright, start from the beginning.”

You sighed, then explained loudly how you were training and working to gain control of your powers last night and everything just got stuck. You spent the night partly worrying and partly sleeping, hoping you would regrow by morning. But it hadn’t happened, and you had to get down the stairs, onto a chair, and then Scott found you.

“So I’m now stuck.”

“I see.” the two of you spent the rest of the morning trying to fix the problem, but to no avail. He put his phone on the table, screen side out, and video chatted with your mom on her personal lunch break. She was understandably shocked at the turn of events, but assured you that things would work out. She had a meeting with a reluctant Hank Pym today and she would add that to their discussion. Something about Avengers permissions and his continued ownership of the technology.

Scott brought food down to the lab for both you and your dad, but your plate was considerably smaller. He had found a tea saucer and added what would normally be bite-size portions of foods to your plate. There were the same foods on your dad’s and you appreciated the sentiment. You gratefully accepted the thimble with water and took a sip.

Without an immediate solution, your dad began building again. You watched from his shoulder after you both ate, but still couldn’t determine what it was right away. That was, until four wires stuck out of it and he began to curve four more.

“Are you building wings?” you asked, your voice still raised. Goodness, when you were big again, you were probably going to have laryngitis.

He smiled and held up the small square to you. “Sure am, kiddo.”

You smiled. Now you wouldn’t get stepped on.

An hour later, the wings were ready. You slipped on the pack and clicked the ‘fly’ button and the wings took you off the ground. A grin grew on your face and you took a flight around the table before landing back where you started. No other sixteen year-old could say they had a wing pack and you were pumped.

Someone walked into the room, dressed in red with grey accents and you waved. Scott walked up to the table, then jumped and shrunk to your size, landing on the table. He held up his fist and you fist bumped him. Before your dad could say anything, another person entered the lab.

“Mister Stark?” Peter asked. “Have you seen Y/N, we’re supposed to work on our English project today?”

“Over here, Peter!” you shouted before your dad could respond. You used your new dragonfly wings to fly over to your friend. Peter squinted his eyes to see you, then they widened.

“What happened?”

You flew back. People really talk too loudly. “I shrunk yesterday and got stuck and now everything is big and loud and I don’t know how long it’s gonna last!”

“Alright, well we can wait on the project,” Peter lowered his voice. “I’ll come back another time to work on it.”

“I’ll let you know when things are fixed, and if not, we’ll figure out the project,” you promised. He smiled, then left, his hands shoved into his pockets. You felt a little guilty, but this couldn’t be helped.

“Don’t worry kiddo,” your dad said, “We’ll fix it up.”

- - -

Masterlist on blog!

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[artistic-writer]

Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) - CS Werewolf AU - Ch 13

Title: Alii Dimidium Lunam (The Other Half of the Moon) by @artistic-writer   artwork by @cocohook38 & @artistic-writer

Rating: E (overall rating) for explicit sexual content, language, and themes throughout. Trigger warnings will follow and be added as they are needed to avoid spoilers.

Art by @cocohook38 - Poster - Emma - David - Killian - James - Walsh - Graham - Liam

Chapter Art by @cocohook38 - Ch1 - Ch2 - Ch3 - Ch4 (NSFW)

Art by @artistic-writer - 1 - 2 - 3 -

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Ok, so, don’t hate me but this chapter offers you no resolution to what happened in the last one.  I’m sorry not sorry , but its another backstory.  This time its Brother Jones backstory, and we also find out how Walsh got the scar, as well as a few other little things.  Also, next week I will posting TWO chapters, because Ch 14 is very NSFW on the whump front, and as i understand this is not for every reader, I have written ch 15 so that you can skip Ch 14 if it is too much for you. 

Massive thanks to my wonderful betas, @hookedonapirate who is one of the best beta’s this fandom has to offer - I seriously love her guys, and she deserves all the good things <3 <3 and @kmomof4 to whom this fic is also gifted for her upcoming birthday, and creating the @cssns  Thank you to my crew, @hollyethecurious  @resident-of-storybrooke@courtorderedcake @doodlelolly0910 and special thanks to @killian-whump @killianmesmalls and @sherlockianwhovian for how they helped later on. And to @flipperbrain  who drew THIS piece of art for this fic in December, before it was even written!

Taglist: @cssns @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious  @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat  @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness @lenfaz @therooksshiningknight@ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr@blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld @chinawoodfan  @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver  @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair

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——————————————————————————————

A decade ago

Liam Jones was too young to become a parent, or so he had thought, but the second his mother’s hand had gone limp in his and her last breath had left her mortal body, he knew his life had changed forever. He was twenty-two, barely an adult himself, and he was now in charge of his younger brother. Killian was just sixteen, not yet legally an adult, so Liam had stood in a solicitor's office and signed a single sheet of paper whilst an overweight, middle-aged man explained what he was signing.

In the absence of any remaining family, he was Killian’s new guardian.

In truth, he would not have had it any other way. His brother was just like their mother - a hopelessly romantic empath whose world crumbled when she had died. It wasn’t quick, nor painless, and both of the brothers had watched her slip from reality, fading away to nothing more than a grey shadow before their very eyes. Liam was older, stronger and had coped with the loss of a relative before - he was young, but he remembered his grandfather’s funeral. Killian, however, was not equipped to deal with the emotions he was feeling.

One doctor had called him delicate. Another had called him explosive. Liam had learned quickly that even if he had been a sixteen-year-old boy himself, he had never been a sixteen-year-old boy who had lost his world. Killian was angry, at everything, and only six years into his werewolf change. He had shifted and remained in wolf form for eight days. Liam had covered for him, telling his school he was under the weather, but he knew nothing but time would heal his wounds. And so he let him remain a wolf, curled up into a tight cat-like ball on the couch, fur greasy from where he had been comforting him with tender strokes and his heart breaking at each whimper his brother had emitted.

Liam understood the appeal of wolf form for Killian. It was where his brother felt safest, strongest and able to take on anything that came at him. He had been like that ever since his first change, obsessed with his wolf form, shifting whenever he could to escape humanity. Liam was the opposite, choosing to live as human a life as possible because even though their mother had always told them it was okay to be a werewolf, society would never accept them as such. Humanity would never know of their existence, and the Werewolf council would always make sure they didn’t exist, so what was the point of trying to belong where you were not welcome?

The funeral came and went, and for months afterward their little village was alive with rumours of a black wolf roaming the graveyard at night. Some villagers put it down to the caretaker having too much to drink, but Liam knew that if he had checked Killian’s bed at night, he would have only found a pile of discarded clothes. If Killian needed to sit on their mother’s grave until the wee hours, whining at her loss and howling at the moon, Liam would not stop him.

Even in human form, Killian tried to remain as close as possible to his mother’s memory. She had taught him how to play piano, her proudest achievement, but Killian’s selections shifted from jolly tunes to pieces of a darker nature, the tinkering of the high notes replaced by the low vibrating boom that reflected his feelings. Liam let him play whatever he wanted to, compose whatever he wished, even if he would often find him slumped over the ivories bawling his eyes out at the end of each session.

He endured nearly two years, until one day, before his eighteenth birthday, Killian surprised him with a proposition that wasn’t totally out of the realms of possibility.

“America?” Liam asked with a snort, the milk from his cereal spoon dribbling down his chin as it escaped his mouth.

“Aye, America,” Killian repeated eagerly with a nod.

“And why would we want to go to America?” Liam asked his brother, his eyebrow raised and the back of his hand catching more wayward milk.

Killian shrugged the way most teenagers do when they do not want to divulge all the facts. “It will be an adventure,” he smiled. He dipped his own spoon into his bowl, the metal clattering against the edge of the porcelain, and scooped up a spoonful of golden flakes swimming in milk.

“But why America?” Liam pried, watching his brother intently. Killian had never mentioned America before, apart from a teenage obsession with Ford Mustangs and a large dog-eared poster hanging proudly on his bedroom wall. “Plenty of other places to create mischief.”

“It’s far away,” Killian said softly, his words muffled by his chewing and his eyes fixed on his spoon. He gripped the implement awkwardly, tapping the side of the bowl with a sigh. “I can’t stay here, Liam. In this house, without her. I just…”

“It’s okay,” Liam soothed, stopping his brother’s emotional ramble.

“It’s not okay,” Killian told him firmly, letting his spoon slide out of his hand and slip against the side of the bowl. “I can’t wake up in this house one more day without seeing her face, or hearing her voice, Liam. I can’t.”

Liam sighed sadly, fingers toying with the edge of his own breakfast bowl as he watched his brother began to fall apart once more. He had suspected Killian was hiding his sadness, forcing a brave face for the rest of the world, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Killian snapped. He had expected more rage, more things being thrown or smashing doors, but Killian was at the bottom of broken, and more childlike than Liam had ever seen him.

“Why have you been pretending, Killian? The last six months have been…” Liam began, offering his brother a chance to explain, which he couldn’t seem to contain.

“Hell,” Killian admitted, lifting his gaze. Their eyes locked across the table, no bigger than the seats they were perched on and Liam knew his brother was not exaggerating. “I’ve been trying to be the person the world wants me to be and I’m exhausted. I just can’t pretend anymore.”

“I miss her too, you know,” Liam said softly, dropping his gaze. “You can always talk to me, brother.”

“I know,” Killian said with a small smile. “I love you, Liam. Truly.”

Liam was taken back for a second. Killian had never told him he had loved him before, even if Liam knew it. They were brothers, bonded by more than just blood, and now all they had was each other. “I love you too, little brother,” Liam smirked, knowing how irritated his brother became when he teased him.

“Younger,” Killian scowled, his lips twitching to avoid a playful smirk.

“Younger,” Liam agreed amicably, reaching across the table and ruffling his fingers through Killian’s lengthening, black hair. He was still a boy essentially, the faintest sprouting of facial hair threatening to grow on his jawline, and sometimes Liam found it hard to treat him as the man he was becoming. “So, tell me, honestly, why America?”

“Father is in America,” Killian said suddenly, swiping a hand through his cheek-length fringe and parting it to one side so he could see his brother’s shocked expression.

Liam frowned and tilted his head. “How do you know?”

“The dark web,” Killian admitted without falter. He wouldn’t lie to his brother; they had been through so much and Liam would find out anyway.

“Killy,” Liam warned.

“I know, it’s dangerous and I shouldn’t have, but I paid a guy to find all of the Brennan Jones’ who lived in America and…”

“Wait, with what?” Liam blinked, his voice an octave higher.

Killian’s cheeks pinked under his brothers gaze. “I sold Milah.”

Just before their mother had been diagnosed, Killian had pestered her for the weeks leading up until his fifteenth birthday with the request for a motorbike. He promised not to ride it until he was sixteen and wanted to learn how it worked before he got his license so he could fix it if anything needed repairing. She had said no, but unbeknownst to him, Liam had already procured him the bike, hid it away in a neighbour’s garage and had been playing along with his mother’s ruse.

On his big day, Killian had been handed a small package, which contained just a pair of socks, some new sheet music for his piano and lastly a replica model of the bike he had really wanted. With a disappointed smile, Killian had thanked his mother and hugged her tight, knowing she really didn’t have the means to fulfill his dreams anyway. It wasn’t until later that day when she had sent him to the neighbour’s to fetch a parcel they had been holding, when he realised what she had done.

Killian doted on his bike about as much as he doted on his mother, constantly tinkering with it, tuning it and modifying it for when he could finally ride her. He named her Milah, a name he didn’t really know but found himself attracted to all the same. For a whole year, he tended to Milah’s every need, changing her oil and washing her fairings so often Killian’s mother warned him he would wash away the paintwork, until he turned sixteen and got his license.

Milah still had the bobbles on her tires when Killian finally hit the road, taking a few laps around their little village, to the annoyance of a few of the more elderly residents, but his joy was short lived. Less than two months after his sixteenth birthday, and shattering his very existence, Killian was told of his mother’s illness after she collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. She had known she was ill for some time but had neglected to tell her boys, protecting them from the truth until she could no longer.

She was dying. Cancer. Killian put Milah into storage and focused all of his attention to caring for his mother.

“You sold your bike?” Liam gasped, trying to fathom what his brother had said.

“Aye,” Killian nodded.

“But she meant so much to you,” Liam blinked at his brother. “Why would you sell it to pay a man you do not know to find our father?”

“Because mother asked us to find him,” Killian frowned. Liam rolled his eyes in agreement. Of course, Killian was right. “And guess what?” Killian rearranged himself on his chair, leaned forward and pushed his half eaten cereal aside with the back of his hand.

“Go on,” Liam asked, only slight annoyance in his tone.

“Guess how many Brennan Jones’ live in America?” Killian smirked, running his tongue over the ridge of his teeth.

Liam narrowed his eyes at his brother, mirroring his know it all grin. “How many?”

“One,” Killian grinned excitedly.

“Well then, brother,” Liam inhaled hard, standing from the table and tugging up the waistband of his jeans. “Best start packing. We’re going to America.”

--

Two weeks had passed since the brothers Jones has set foot on American soil. They had arranged to stay with a childhood friend, Ruby Lucas, who had persuaded her father that the two strange British men who had shown up at their farm late one night were actually known to her. Ruby had gone to school in England, a boarding school near to where the Jones boys grew up, and when she had returned stateside, they had always kept in touch. Liam had reached out to her, knowing she would never deny his request of shelter and knowing her semi-secluded farmhouse home was perfect for a pining werewolf like Killian.

Ruby’s father, a widower, was ailing so in an attempt not to disrupt his life too much, Liam had suggested he and Kilian stay in one of the outbuildings away from the main house whilst they looked for a home in the city. They didn’t have anything but the clothes on their back and their life savings, but they had enough and it wasn’t long before Liam found work as a mechanic. It wasn’t what he wanted to do, but it gave him the opportunity to save a little.

Ruby’s father, known only to him as Nemo - though Killian suspected that wasn’t his real name - a now elderly gentleman, took a shine to Killian immediately. He had heard stories from his daughter, and whilst he was sure she was in love with at least one of the Jones brothers, he preferred the younger one, Killian. Nemo often said how he reminded him of himself, a young and carefree gent with a depth that would set the most confident women adrift. If only the old man had known about werewolves, he would have realised how right he was.

On Killian’s nineteenth birthday and a year after they had reached America, the brothers were still living on the farm. Liam was a mechanic by day and attended night school whilst Killian helped out around the farm due to Ruby’s father’s age. Nemo was fragile, his grey hair long since turned yellow and a half chewed cigar always in between his chubby little fingers. He always told Killian that they were Cuban, but his little smirk afterward told Killian otherwise.

“Cuban, you say?” Killian smirked back, pulling the last knots out of the mane of the mare he was grooming.

“Always,” Nemo declared, leaning against the stable door as he watched Killian groom the horse in front of him. “I picked up many on my travels.” He decided to finish his daily pleasure and stubbed out the quarter length cigar on the stable door, careful not to knock off the cherry tip and set the whole place ablaze.

Killian snorted a little and dodged a flick of the horse’s tail. “Ruby says you’ve never left the farm.”

“My boy, I’ve sailed a hundred seas a thousand times over.” Nemo caught Killian’s eye, his eyebrow raised high up on his brow and the horse between them let out a low, rumbling sound followed by a whinny.

“She says you haven’t.” Killian nodded at him and motioned to the horse, resuming his long brush strokes through her brittle mane. The horse’s skin twitched where his hands touched her, but she was relaxed, a hoof resting upon its curve edge and her head hanging low. “And I believe her.”

Nemo laughed this time and the rattle of a hacking cough sounded through the barn. Killian paused his grooming, but Nemo waved him away with a hand, covering his mouth with the other as he coughed more violently than his body could take. Killian has seen this kind of coughing before, from his mother, but as much as he had come to love Nemo, he knew the man would never talk about his ailments.

“I have lived a long time,” Nemo panted, catching his breath. “And I have never seen a man and a horse have such a rapport.” Killian gave him a soft smile, his hand following the brush as he moved onto the horse’s coat. She was shedding for the summer, soft, fluffy clumps of hair coming loose in his hands and falling to the stable floor below. “She likes you.”

“She reminds me of my mother,” Killian said softly. It was the first time he had mentioned his mother to anyone other than Liam and for the first time, it didn’t feel lonely or sad to talk of her. He felt warm, her memory like a comfort in his mind. “She has a gentle soul,” Killian added idly, running his hand down the velvet soft hair on the horse’s long face.

Nemo nodded in agreement, shifting his weight so he was more comfortably balanced on his other hip. “Do you ride?”

“No, sir,” Killian snorted, stifling a laugh. “I grew up in a city, so the closest thing to a horse I’ve ever ridden was my motorbike.” A smile played across his lips at the memory of Milah and the hours he had spent tuning every piston, wire, and baffle before he was finally able to ride her. His smile faded and he sidestepped so he could reach the horse’s rump. “I sold her to come to America.”

“Oh, it was a lady?” Nemo teased, giving Killian a sly grin. Killian blushed and nodded. “They always are,” Nemo told him with a knowing wave of his hand.

“My mother bought her for me before I could ever legally ride. I spent hours getting to know her, making sure I could get the best performance out of her, learning what made her purr.” Killian smirked.

“As you should with any woman,” Nemo winked and let out a laugh, short-lived because of another hacking cough he could not recover from.

Killian dropped the brush in his hand and immediately moved beside his friend, offering him his arm as he led him to a small milking stool nearby. The old man sunk down onto the rounded seat, hand clutching Killian’s shirt in his feeble fingers whilst trying to wave him away at the same time. Killian fetched his bottle of water nearby and offered it to Nemo, telling him to sip.

“Are you alright? Should I get Ruby?” Killian wasn’t sure how to help the old man, apart from offering to fetch his daughter, who, as a trainee veterinarian, was more than capable of tending to his needs.

“Don't you dare,” Nemo rasped, glaring and sucking in a deep breath, the redness dissipating from his cheeks. He leaned back against the closed stable door behind him and emitted a heavy sigh. Killian knew his time was limited, but he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place, so instead, he was simply there for the elderly man, holding him upright as he caught his breath.

“Can I do anything?” Killian asked gently, the almost see-through skin on Nemo’s hands white and ghostly as it rested in his. Nemo shook his head, breathing as deeply in and out as his failing lungs would allow. “Do you want to head back to the house?” Killian suggested. “I can finish up here.”

“How about we head out to the grey barn instead?” Nemo said between gasps. Killian looked at him with a frown. “There is something I have to show you.”

The grey barn was near the very back of the property, two buildings over from where Liam and Killian had been staying. The door was locked and to Killian’s knowledge, it always had been. Until now, neither Nemo or Ruby had ever mentioned it, or what was inside, and Killian’s interest was piqued as he helped the old man across the knee length grass field that surrounded it. Crickets chirped, jumping from the grass stems as they were disturbed by the two men, Nemo hunched over as he rattled a bunch of keys between his arthritic fingers.

“It’s one of these,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head and clicking his tongue behind his oversized dentures.

“Here, let me,” Killian offered, holding out his hand to the old man. Nemo smiled warmly, handing him the bunch of keys. Most of them were rusted and so old they had been worn smooth and Killian eyed them hopelessly.

 “It’s a long, flat one,” Nemo told him firmly, pointing to the keys. “Ruby insisted on a more modern padlock, so it looks newer than the others.”

Killian looked down at the keys in his hand and scanned them quickly, not immediately seeing what he was supposed to be seeing. They were all orange, oxidized by years of exposure, so he began running his hands over them, feeling for the roughest one. When Killian thought he had found one that felt newly rusted, he held it up for Nemo who nodded.

“That’s the one,” he rasped, coughing to clear his throat. The old man waved a finger at the huge, round padlock which was equally as rusted, and gave Killian an encouraging nod. “Behind this door is something very dear to me, something that I have neglected ever since my wife passed away.”

“What is it?” Killian asked eagerly, wiggling the key into the lock and trying to turn the rusted mechanism.

“You’ll see,” Nemo grinned. The lock in Killian’s hand clicked open, the tumbler finally falling into place and he slipped the metal loop free from the latch.

The doors were heavier than any of the other barns Killian had entered, so after handing Nemo back his keys, he put all of his weight behind pushing the faded, wooden doors open. The bottom of one scraped across the ground, dust dancing in the sunlight that flooded into the barn as the door creaked open. Killian’s boots scruffed the ground as he sought to find his footing and after a little effort, the door hinges balanced out the weight of the door and it finally opened freely.

Killian righted himself as the door swung beyond his reach, confused by the dusty, off-white tarp covering what was clearly some kind of vehicle in front of him. Nemo shuffled past him, the gentle clatter of disused tools sounding out overhead as a bird that had taken up residence in the upper rafters of the barn took flight, exiting through a broken window in the top of the apex roof.

“Now,” Nemo began, reaching the tarp and lifting it over the hood. Dirt and debris flew everywhere, and the old man flinched away from the particles of dust that threatened to make him cough again. “She might not look like much,” he continued, dragging the brittle covering back over the now exposed car windshield. “But she has all of the right parts in all the right places.” Nemo gave the tarp one last tug and it fell to the ground behind the car that was now bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun.

Killian stepped towards the car, his heart all but stopping in his chest. It was the car of his dreams, he would recognise it anywhere, even covered in patches of rust and newly welded areas. It was a Mustang, a ‘67, the original blue paint long since chipped away, but still visible in places. The tires were all flat, but the wheels were original ten spoke rims, he could tell, and the bodywork was something he had only ever dreamed of seeing in person.

Killian reached out, his hand nervously touching the cold, hard metalwork, his lips twitching into a content smile as he ran his hand over the length of the hood. It was broken, there was no doubt about it, but every spec of rust told a story and Killian could feel every single word the car was saying to him as he skimmed his fingertips up the windshield and over the solid roof.

“This is a Shelby GT500,” Killian whispered, almost to himself as he noticed the rear quarter window scoops exclusive to that model.

“She is,” Nemo boasted proudly.

“With a 425 cubic inch big block V8?” Killian asked excitedly, his hands skimming back over the roof over the car. He paused on the driver’s door handle, the bubbles of rust poking through the chrome there.

“You know your cars,” Nemo noted with a smirk.

Killian let out an ecstatic laugh, his eyebrow bouncing up on his forehead. “I know this car,” he said softly, still in shock. “It’s really a Shelby,” he all but giggled, looking up at Nemo with a juvenile grin. “I can’t believe I’m touching it.”

“Marvelous, isn’t she?” Nemo smiled, watching the young man in front of him lavish his most prized possession with as much tenderness as he had done the first time he had seen her.

“She’s beautiful,” Killian breathed, unable to take his eyes off of the car.

“She’s yours if you want her,” Nemo told him casually.

“What?” Killian laughed nervously, head snapping up to meet the greyed eyes of Ruby’s dad.

“Just promise me one thing,” Nemo told him as he watched his own gnarled knuckles stroke the rear of the car. “You paint her dark blue when the time comes. With the dual over the top racing stripes.”

“Nemo, I can’t…” Killian began, his face paling.

“You can, Killian, and you will. Call it a birthday gift.” Nemo moved around the car, holding onto the body for support. “Ruby doesn’t want her, and we both know I am not long for this world. I want her to be cared for, lovingly restored to her former glory, not rotting away in a barn.”

Killian felt his legs weaken. He was nineteen, barely old enough to know what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, but he knew that what Nemo was offering was the one thing he had always wanted. “I don’t know what to say,” Killian said honestly, holding out his hand to the elderly man at his side.

“Say thank you,” Nemo teased, nudging Killian’s ribs with his elbow. He fiddled with the bunch of keys again, managing to twist a single ignition key from the bundle and offered it to Killian.

“Thank you,” Killian grinned, a wide ear to ear smile that made his ears bob up at the side of his head. He took the key, squeezing it in his palm before pulling Nemo into a hug. It was the first time Killian had ever had a father figure other than Liam and it meant the world to him that Nemo trusted him with the car.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough sappy business,” Nemo said gruffly, pushing Killian away weakly. They both laughed and Killian inspected the key in his hand yet again. “Back to work now,” Nemo ordered gently. “Those horses won’t groom themselves.”

“Aye, Aye Captain!” Killian grinned and took off out of the barn as quick as his legs could carry him.

--

Liam had always been a patient man, but over the last six months, Killian had really tested him. Ruby’s father Nemo had recently passed away and Liam had worried that it would affect Killian more than he would let on. However, after the funeral, Killian seemed just as happy, spending every free second he could with the car Nemo had gifted him. Liam wasn’t one for cars other than his job, but he knew what it meant to Killian and how, by restoring it, he would feel like he was honouring Nemo in the only way he could.

But he had spent too much time with it recently and Liam had decided to get his brother away from the farm and take him to the city. Ruby had some friends coming over to keep her company and if it were anything like last time, the sound of giggling women would keep him up all night, so he had planned a boys night out. He was twenty-five, approaching twenty-six, and Killian was still under twenty, so they would have limited options.

Unless they went underground.

Liam had been focusing on the underground Werewolf scene since they had arrived in the States, intently listening out for any chatter relating to his father. Killian brought them this far, albeit by illegal means, but it seemed a lot of the werewolf community operated under the radar. Liam was sure they would never find their father unless they went a little rogue, exploring the darker parts of humanity where most werewolves seemed to reside.

Liam had found a poker match, no limit Texas hold ’em, and he had managed to get two seats for them at the table. It would be full of werewolves, from all different packs and loners were invited too as long as no one found out they were mongrels. Liam hoped they could keep their heads down, maybe win some cash and find someone who knew their father. Or they would, if Killian ever finished styling his hair.

“Come on, Killian!” Liam barked, feet crossed at his ankles as he leaned against Ruby’s car. Liam flicked his wrist, checking his watch for the time and heaved a sigh. “Killian!”

“Alright!” Killian shouted, exiting the barn they called home, in a flash. He tugged his jacket over his arms, popping the collar on his shirt as he reached the car. Liam gave him an incredulous look and a twisted smirk. “What?”

“Out to impress are we?” Liam teased.

“You never know,” Killian told him with a wink. “I might have to seduce a lass to get information about father.”

“I highly doubt that,” Liam snorted, pulling the door of the car open and sinking into the driver’s seat. Killian got in the other side and gave his a brother a cocky smirk. “Alright, Casanova, let’s go.”

The alleyway behind the human nightclub was the perfect cover for an underground poker game, even if a little cliched. The bass from the music inside pounded so loudly it practically vibrated through their bodies as they made their way to the back door, the smell of alcohol-laced vomit and discarded food rife in the air. Killian scrunched his nose at the smell, but Liam ignored it, far more interested in the size of the doorman.

“Names?” The guard barked gruffly, eyes narrowing at the two younger faces in front of him.

“Barrie,” Liam said in a deep tone, peering down at the page. “B-A-R-R-I-E.”

The doorman ran his finger down the edge of the page, stopping when he noticed two identical surnames, one after the other. “Okay,” he said curtly. “Buy in is five grand a piece in mixed bills. We don’t have change.” He leaned behind himself and pushed open the door, the echoing thud of the bass tripling in volume as it spewed out of the club. “Down the steps, first door on the right. Password is Pan.” The guard pointed a fat finger down the corridor beyond the door and nudged his head sideways. “Good luck, boys.”

“We won’t need it,” Killian smiled as he breezed past the doorman. “But thanks anyway.”

When they finally made it to the room, it was far from what Killian had expected. He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected to see, but years of American gangster movies had clearly set him up for disappointment. There were two tables, each seating eight wolves, one already full and a game in progress. Killian could smell they were all Were and in unison, six pairs of eyes turned and watched them approach the other table.

“About time,” one of the wolves snapped. He was slouched in his seat and had beady eyes and a bird like face, long with a pointed nose. He was clearly impatient, glaring at the youngest Jones brother with a cold, hard stare as Liam and Killian claimed their seats. “Bit young, ain't we pup?”

“No age rules,” the croupier spat, exchanging their money for chips. “Money is money, Walsh. You know that.” He sifted smaller bundles of cash onto the tray of a machine that whirred to life and flicked the notes into a small pile, automatically counting them as it did. When the bald headed croupier was happy, he slid each brother a pile of chips of various colours and denominations.

“No matter,” Walsh quipped, sitting upright in his chair. He laced his fingers together, pushing his hands out and cracking his knuckles. “You’ll be easier to beat. No hard feelings.”

Killian simply smirked. Nemo, God rest his soul, had been a lot of things during his time on this earth, and good at poker was one of them. Killian was a natural, learning the ways of the game quickly and then focusing his energy on noticing tells. “We’ll see,” he grinned at Walsh, the fair skinned wolf opposite him grumbling to his associate.

One by one, wolves dropped from the game and after several hours, many hours into the morning, the only two wolves left at the table were Killian and Walsh. Walsh had the upper hand with a larger pot, thirty grand to Killian’s measly ten. They had gone back and forth, each taking the lead, chips changing hands to and fro until Walsh finally had the advantage.

The dealer shuffled the cards, and Killian leaned his head on his hand, elbow resting on the plush, green table covering. Liam was at his side, out of the game but watching the scene unfold before him, hoping beyond all hope that his brother would not play the cocky hooligan any longer. Killian had managed to keep them in the game, and Liam had mingled with a few wolves at the bar, name dropping their father, but so far nothing had emerged. They couldn’t leave ten grand out of pocket, so Liam had returned to the table for the final hand, nervous and eyes fixed on the dealer as he shuffled the deck.

The buy in was up to five thousand and as the dealer slid two cards his way, Killian let out an exaggerated sigh. He was tiring, he knew it and so did Walsh, but his opponent was also running out of energy. Killian lifted the two cards, barely enough to see, and spied his hand; a ten of hearts and a five of spades. He let the cards slap back on the table and lifted his gaze to Walsh who was shuffling two stacks of chips into each other in a show of dominance.

“Ready to fold, young pup?” He said with a sadistic smirk. “You can’t beat what I’ve got.” Walsh motioned to his cards, his face betraying him. Killian had already worked out his tell, so he knew Walsh had a good hand. Maybe two face cards, maybe an ace, but Killian had also worked out that if Walsh thought he couldn’t lose, he’d get sloppy.

“Not this time,” Killian shook his head and pushed half of his remaining pot into the center of the table. Liam sighed, shooting his brother a panicked look that Killian ignored in favour of outstaring Walsh. “Pony up.”

The dealer gave Walsh a questioning glance and without hesitation, he threw a five grand chip into the pot. He slid the button back to its resting position in front of himself and then dealt out the flop - the first three cards - which came out as an ace of spades, ten of clubs and a five of diamonds. Killian refrained from smirking too obviously, casting a downward glance at his cards as he pretended to check them again, sitting back and watching the glee on Walsh’s face.

“Well now,” Walsh sneered. “How about that for interesting.” He gave a nod to the dealer and his face erupted in a darkly twisted grin. “All in.”

“Call,” Killian said without hesitation, eyes fixed on the wolf opposite him.

“What are you doing?!” Liam growled low, pulling his brother’s arm so he was able to whisper in his ear. “He clearly has at least one ace!”

“I know,” Killian murmured, watching Walsh’s revolting smirk grow wider.

“It’s so sad that I’ll only be winning an extra five grand at the end of this,” Walsh mused, sticking out his bottom lip as he picked up his cards and studied them again.

“Unless we make this even more interesting,” Killian told him, leaning forward and wrenching his arm from Liam’s grasp.

“Go on,” Walsh’s eyes lit up and narrowed as he leaned forward, mirroring Killian’s stance.

Killian reached into his pocket and pulled out the key to his Mustang, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger idly. The shine of the metal key glinted in the low lighting, and even through the smokey haze of the room, Killian could see Walsh grinning like a greedy child. “‘67 Mustang, Shelby GT500,” he clarified quickly. “Worth about twenty-five grand,” Killian said slowly, making sure Walsh was listening. He tossed the key into the middle of the table, and it bounced on the pile of chips already there. “How’s that for interesting?”

“Killian, don’t do this,” Liam implored his brother, watching the gollum like expression on Walsh’s face. The wolf was greedy, he could tell, and a darkness ran through him too. Killian ignored Liam’s pleas, raising an eyebrow at Walsh as he contemplated the offer in front of him.

“Alright,” Walsh said after a beat, nodding to the dealer who gathered all of the chips and the key into a pile in front of him.

“Players will show their cards.” He pointed to the both of them and they turned over their hands at the same time. Liam’s face turned white when Walsh revealed a pair of aces, one club, one diamond, and when he noticed Killian’s ten-five, he buried his face in his hands.

“Good luck, pup,” Walsh laughed, oozing arrogance.

The dealer dealt a fourth card, the turn card, and it was an eight of diamonds. No help to either player. It kept them as they were, Walsh with the better three of a kind and Killian with two pairs. Killian gulped nervously and Walsh ran his tongue over the point of his canine, rubbing his hands together. Statistically, he had won, Killian knew that. The only way Killian was going to beat Walsh now was if a five or a ten came up, but the chances were slim.

“What colour is my new car by the way?” Walsh taunted and Killian gave him a hooded stare. “Doesn’t matter,” Walsh shrugged, grinning like a mad man. “I’ll be spraying it red anyway.”

The dealer sighed and turned over the last card he had dealt, his mouth twitching into a small smile. He had been the dealer in this place for years, serving creeps like Walsh and his alpha James, so it was refreshing to see someone like Killian, a young nobody, come in and take him down a peg or two. “Five of clubs,” he smirked, extending an arm out to Killian. “Full house beats three of a kind. Barrie wins.”

“No!” Walsh growled, slamming a balled fist into the table.

“You won!” Liam exclaimed, not really believing the words spewing from his mouth. “You won!” he declared, jumping to his feet, hands on his head, mouth opened in a wide grin and eyes fixed on the forty thousand dollars being counted out in front of him. “You only bloody won!” he cackled, shaking Killian ecstatically.

Killian remained calm, letting his brother push him around in his excitement. He simply stared at Walsh across the table and his face was paled, void of any emotion except shock. Killian’s mouth twitched, pulling up at the corners into a tight lipped smile as the dealer handed him his winnings. He palmed the key, gripping it tightly and saying a silent prayer to whoever had watched over him, and a silent apology to Nemo before slipping it back into the pocket of his jeans.

Killian stood, offering the dealer his hand and giving the man a tip for his trouble. It was late, the game had overrun some, and he knew he probably wouldn’t be compensated any other way. It wasn’t like an underground croupier got paid a decent wage.

Liam was still celebrating, handing his brother a beer he had quickly acquired from the bar and tapping the neck of the bottle with his own. Both brothers took a long swig of their beer, the fizzy, hoppy drink filling their mouths and making their tongues tingle. Killian finished his in three big gulps and slammed the bottle down on the table, grabbing Walsh’s attention. “No hard feelings,” he smirked smugly.

After a few congratulatory handshakes from some of the other players, Liam and Killian were on their way out the door. The doorman patted Killian on the back as they left so hard that he stumbled forward into the alleyway with a chuckle. They had decided to cut through the woods on the way back to their car, the same way they had come, and Killian couldn’t help but recall the look on Walsh’s face as he had lost.

“Did you see his face?” he laughed, his pockets padded out with all of his cash.

“Aye, brother, it was a sight for sure,” Liam chuckled, nodding his agreement. “I’ll admit, I was nervous when you bet the car, considering its condition.”

“Well, he wasn’t to know it wasn’t in a state worth what I indicated,” Killian shrugged with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing you won then.” Liam blew out a breath, his nerves calming a little. He patted his own pockets, full of the bills too. Total prize money was forty-thousand dollars, money neither brother had ever seen before. “This is a lot of money,” he grinned. “Well done, brother.”

“I’m going to restore the car,” Killian smiled. “For Nemo.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Liam agreed with a proud smile. His younger brother was becoming a man and his heart swelled in his chest at how much he admired his determination to always do the right thing. Killian may have been a troubled young man, but he always had his heart in the right place.

“Well, well, well,” a voice sneered and they both froze in their tracks, boots skidding in the dirt. Walsh appeared from behind an oak tree, hands behind his back as he stepped into the middle of the pathway. Liam instinctively stepped in front of Killian to protect him from the older wolf. “Look what I’ve found.”

“We’re not looking for any trouble,” Liam said calmly.

“Then hand over the money and no harm will come to you,” Walsh smirked, his expression not filling either brother with any confidence.

“I won fair and square,” Killian growled, his jaw clenched together. He threw his head back a little, inhaling hard and finding no trace of other wolves in the wind. Walsh was alone.

“Oh, I know,” Walsh nodded, toying with his bottom lip. “Congrats,” he spat sarcastically, holding out his hand. “Now hand it over.” He took a threatening step towards the brothers and Liam took a step back, pushing his brother away from the menacing wolf in front of them.

“If you want your money so badly, then come and get it.” Killian pushed hard against the resistance of Liam’s body, wrenching his arms from his jacket, balling it up in his hands and throwing it to the ground.

“Killian,” Liam warned his brother darkly, the hair on his neck standing at attention. Killian was slightly drunk and had no idea of the trouble he was getting into. Walsh was a pureblood and while he didn’t know they were not, they still had the opportunity to talk their way out of the situation.

“You’re a real cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Walsh snarled, his lips curling over his teeth in a disgusting smile.

“Joke’s on you,” Killian sneered with a laugh. “My mother was human.”

“Oh no.” Liam pinched his eyes closed. The one thing he had not wanted to divulge had just come tumbling out of Killian’s stupidly drunk mouth.

“Was?” Walsh scoffed, his words vile as they left his mouth. He looked the wolves in front of him up and down, a look of disgust on his face as he spat at the ground between them. “Good riddance.”

Liam had no time to stop his brother, who pushed him out of the way and was already in wolf form before he reached Walsh. Their mother was a trigger for Killian, his rage surfacing quicker than he had taken to get drunk and his shift taking over him before he had even registered his emotions. Killian lunged for the wolf before him, his legs ripping through his clothes, teeth bared and eyes wide. Walsh didn’t even look surprised when Killian attacked him, laughing sadistically as he fell backward, and the young, black wolf towered over him.

“Is that all you got?” Walsh spat, fingers gripping the excess skin at the side of Killian’s head, holding the snarling wolf from his face. Walsh chuckled again, turning his head to the side when Killian began to drool, a thin drizzle of slobber slowly inching towards his face. “You filthy mongrel dog!”

Killian barked in Walsh’s face, foamy spittle flicking against the man’s face. Walsh grabbed onto a scrap of Killian’s shirt that was hanging loosely around his neck and twisted it tightly until Killian began to gulp furiously for air. Walsh took the opportunity to gain the upper hand, digging his knee into Killian’s ribs and tossing him over his head, Killian’s wolf form writhing mid-air awkwardly.

“Stop!” Liam roared, rushing at his brother. He left Walsh laying in the ground, rushing past him to his brother who was scrambling back to all fours, snorting dirt from his nose and his hackles raised. Halting Killian with a steady hand and a pleading glance, Liam shook his head gently. “Killian, please.”

Liam barely had the words out of his mouth when he cried out, the hot, searing pain of a bite shooting up the back of his leg. Walsh, now in wolf form, had sunk his teeth into Liam’s calf and was shaking his head back and forth, the skin under Liam’s jeans tearing open in no time. Liam turned to his attacker, punching Walsh on the top of the head in an attempt to get him to let go, but all he felt was his jaws clamp down harder on his leg. Liam fell to the ground, the pain in his leg too much to bear whilst upright, and he kicked out at the grey wolf who was tugging at his limb.

Killian sprang over his brother’s fallen figure, ears flattened to his head and teeth bared once more. Walsh released Liam’s leg in order to defend himself, twisting his body sideways and jumping backward, feet scuffing through the littered forest floor. He lifted a leg and clawed Killian’s face, the young wolf wincing away with a yelp as he felt the skin on his cheek open up and ooze with fresh, hot blood.

Killian shook his head, pawing at the side of his face as pain rocked through his head, blood coating his fur and almost blurring his vision. He saw Walsh circling around him, head low and growling, the sound a deep vibration in his throat. Killian circled the opposite way, darkened stare boring into the older wolf in front of him, sizing him up should he need a defense. It wasn’t long before Killian needed to execute his plan. Walsh ran towards him, feet skidding in the fallen leaves and as Killian dodged his charge, he sunk his teeth into the soft skin of Walsh’s neck.

It was so fast, all happening in a split second that left Killian with a mouth full of fur and skin and Walsh yowling in pain. Walsh had left his neck wide open for a bite and the momentum of his forward lunge had caused more damage than either of them thought possible. Killian’s jaws had grabbed a sizeable chunk of Walsh’s neck tissue, ripping it clean off and leaving the wolf with a jagged-edged wound that seeped crimson with every heartbeat. Walsh fell to the ground, squirming in agony as he clawed at the wound site, almost passing out from the blood he was losing and not seeing the huge tree branch as it struck his skull.

“Now stay down,” Liam growled at the unconscious wolf at his feet, throwing the huge, thick branch aside and panting from the exertion of swinging it.

“Is he dead?” Killian asked breathlessly, shifted back to his human form and stark naked behind his brother. His face was smeared with blood that coated his teeth, the red colour contrasting his pale expression. “Did I kill him?” Killian panted heavily, chest heaving, eyes dark with a beast Liam had never seen before. He wanted Walsh to be dead. He craved the feeling of having taken a life, a small twitch of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Liam looked down at Walsh, the wolf out cold but not dead. He toed the canine body with his boot and it let out a gruff growl. He was injured, but he would heal. “He’ll live,” Liam assured Killian with a distasteful tone. “Unfortunately.”

“We should get going,” Killian said quickly, casting a glance around the secluded clearing. The scent of humans lingered in the forest and whilst there were none around at this hour, Killian knew there would be soon enough. “What are we going to do about him?” Killian motioned his head towards Walsh, bending down to retrieve his jacket, the last piece of clothing left unshredded.

“Leave him,” Liam shrugged, turning away from the wolf on the ground. “We don’t owe him anything.”

“Come on,” Killian urged his brother with a tug on his arm. “Let’s get you back to the farm so Ruby can take a look at that leg.” Killian lifted Liam’s arm and ducked underneath, letting his brother lean his weight on him as he hopped alongside him.

“Some night, huh, little brother?” Liam laughed, his chuckle cut off with a wince when he knocked his leg on a tree root that was sticking up out of the ground.

Naked and covered in blood, patches caked onto his skin and matted in his chest hair, Killian laughed dryly. “Younger,” Killian droned sarcastically. “Can’t wait to see what you have planned for when I’m twenty-one.”

[justanotherloveaffair]

Just Say Yes - Chapter 5 (Chadwick x Reader)

A Collaboration Fic between @justanotherloveaffair/ @captainsordersfic

<< Chapter 4                                                                                   Chapter 6  >> 

Summary: You and Chadwick relieve some tension on the basketball court. And then in the men’s locker room.

Warnings: SMUT

Word Count: 3,166

Chapter Author: @captainsordersfic​

Author’s Note: Nothing other than I’m fond of this chapter :)

Your name: Submit (what is this?)

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Taglist: @afraiddreamingandloving, @killmongerrss, @kumkaniudaku, @nah-imjustfeelinit, @tchallaholla, @a-heretic-child, @simplyyamberr, @wildaboutchrisevans, @fullonfrenzy, @h-challa, @theunsweetenedtruth, @ljstraightnochaser, @90sinspiredgirl, @maverickabull           ***Comment if you want to be tagged/untagged.

Chadwick had eased your mind, but he could tell there was still some residual tension in you, some unspoken anticipation of the possibility of confrontation and judgment of others.

“Do you have any shorts or tights? Running shoes?” He asked you seemingly out of the blue.

“Yeah,” you answered, eyeing him quizzically.

“Get changed,” he commanded, offering no more detail than that.

“Okay,” you said hesitantly sliding down off the barstool at the island in the kitchenette, curious but not pushing for more.

You changed into more casual attire and Chadwick took your hand, leading you out of the hotel.

You eyed him with an amused smile as though saying, “you’re not going to tell me, are you?” He just smiled back at you with a glint in his eyes.

As you walked through the lobby, he seemed pre-occupied with his phone until you both reached the entrance of the hotel and were ushered into one of the ever-present awaiting cabs.

“Sudbury Indoor Community Centre,” Chadwick informed the driver once you were in the car, and the cab driver nodded obligingly.

You wondered what was there and how he knew about it. It was also late in the evening on a Sunday and you wondered if it would even be open.

In the cab on the way, you snuck glances at him periodically. He was quiet, but not at all tense and every second of the way, you felt on the verge of wanting to begin a dialogue with him about your relationship, and where, when and how it would continue after tonight.

You took comfort in his lack of urgency to discuss the matter. Despite your reservations about external forces in your relationship, you didn’t have any doubts about him and there were none that he seemed to harbour of you.

When you arrived at the community centre, Chadwick paid the driver and as you neared, you noticed it was closed.

“Oh shit, it’s not open,” you said peering up at Chadwick disappointedly, but instead of stopping and turning around, Chadwick pulled you along with him and made a right turn to skirt the building around to the back of it.

You rounded the corner to come to the back entrance and stopped as Chadwick rapped his knuckles against a corrugated garage style door before leaning towards it to listen for any stirring movement from beyond.

A moment later, a wooden door off to the right of the garage door swung open and a short, stout man in his late fifties poked his head out.

“What’s up,” Chadwick greeted making his way over as the man smiled brightly up at Chadwick and the two hugged warmly and exchanged pleasantries.

You hung back until Chadwick gestured towards you. “This is Y/N,” he introduced you and smiled as the man reached out to you.

“Hello Y/N,” he sang and you smiled and accepted his hand. “My name is Frank.”

“Hi Frank, nice to meet you,” you smiled and looked over your shoulder at Chadwick as Frank took the liberty of pulling you gently through the threshold.

Chadwick shrugged at you with a smile and followed closely behind you both.

“I’ll be leaving in just a few minutes, but Chadwick, you can just make sure that door is locked before you leave,” he instructed walking through a dark, narrow hallway that led to a gymnasium door.

He unlatched two large bolts and swung two metal double-doors open leading into a completely deserted basketball court.

“Lights are over there, just pull that lever up, equipment is in the locker over there, just make sure everything is put away before you leave, and don’t forget to turn those lights off,” Frank instructed.

“You won’t even know we were here. I appreciate you letting us use the court,” Chadwick smiled charmingly, holding out his hand for one last handshake which Frank accepted.

“No problem, have fun. Y/N, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

Both you and Chadwick watched Frank amble away and then Chadwick turned to you and rubbed his hands together.

“Come on,” he said walking backward right onto the court and you hesitated before following him as he cranked up the lever that engulfed the entire court in light. Next, he opened the locker and pulled out a basketball, dribbling his way onto the court with you close behind him.

“You ready to show me what you got on the court?” he asked, eyeing you intensely as he dribbled the ball from one hand to the other.

You smiled at him as though to imply that the joke was on him. “Gonna be a short show.”

“As long as it helps you work off some of that tension…” he said shrugging one shoulder.

You closed in about a foot away from where he was dribbling and licked your lips suggestively at him, your eyes narrowing seductively. “Not quite the tension reliever I had in mind.”

Chadwick froze mid-bounce just as you hoped he would and you took the opportunity to swipe at the ball, gathering it into your hands and dodging around to the right.

“Ohh! Is that how this is gonna go?” you heard him, hot on your heels as you felt his overwhelming presence close in on you from behind, his arms stretching defensively out to your left and right.

You got the sense that he let you make it all the way up to the ring and take a shot, but you were under no illusions about being able to compete with him, so you took what you could get, aiming for a shot and surprising yourself by actually sinking it.

“Oh shit! It actually went in,” you said laughing with delighted surprise as Chadwick chased the wayward ball and brought it back to centre court.

You took your defensive stance with your arms out in front of Chadwick as he leisurely dribbled the ball, keeping his eyes fixed on you. He advanced, and you shuffled backwards, making sure to stay close enough to intercept if the opportunity presented itself but not so close as to incur a foul.

You swiped at the ball, but he overhand passed it from one of his hands to the other to avoid you touching it. While you were dazzled by his simple handling skills, he broke to your left and easily passed you before executing a perfect, oh-so-easy layup that sunk without any hint of difficulty.

You arrived after Chadwick retrieved the ball and he passed it to you with a smug smile on his face. “Now we’re even.”

You caught the ball and gave him a look that said you knew he was humouring you. “I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.”

Back at centre court, you dribbled the ball and took advantage of the fact that Chadwick had forgotten to switch his direction to defend his own basket instead of yours. You were easily able to turn on your heel facing away from him and make a break.

With him hot on your heels, you made it to the goal ring and took another technically awkward shot. This time, the ball bounced off and away from the ring, but before your disappointment could register, Chadwick leapt for the rebound and started towards his side of the court with you laughing and lumbering clumsily behind him. Stopping short of the goal ring, Chadwick aimed up for the three-point shot and succeeded.

You tried everything you could think of to throw Chadwick off his game, but he so easily exposed every one of your weaknesses and racked up a demoralizing number of points against you.

Eventually, Chadwick began toying with you, kissing your forehead while you were aiming up for a shot, patting your ass as he trailed behind you, holding the ball up above your head where you couldn’t reach it and stealing kisses when you would try to leap for it.

Eventually, with no more pride left to lose, you resorted to drastic measures.

While Chadwick was dribbling at centre court, eyeing you with his usual cocky calmness, you took the hem of your t-shirt and lifted it up over your face exposing your breasts to him.

“Damn!” Chadwick exclaimed in shock and while he was distracted, you swiped for the ball, got it and made a break past him, running and dribbling until you made it to your goal ring.

You took the shot and got it, leaping victoriously with an exuberant exclamation before leaning over with your hands on your knees trying to catch your breath.

You only just noticed that you were sweaty and quickly becoming exhausted as Chadwick came to you looking comparatively comfortable.

“Nice play,” he said looking down at you with the ball between you.

“I thought you’d like that,” you panted, looking up at him with a smug smile.

“Now you’ve gone and put ideas in my head,” he said cocking his head to the side and you reached over to grab onto the front of his shirt and pull him to you for a kiss.

“Maybe that was the plan.”

“Maybe we’re done here,” he said wrapping one arm around the back of your shoulders while holding the basketball with the other.

“Maybe I don’t want to wait to get back to the hotel,” you said, closing your teeth down on his bottom lip and watched as his eyes closed.

You pulled it gently and then closed your lips around it sucking it a couple times before letting it free. Chadwick’s eyes opened slowly, and you felt his weight bearing against you, guiding you backwards while keeping his arm around your shoulders.

“You ever been in a men’s locker room before,” he asked you, his voice low and thick, making your extremities tingle at the suggestion.

“Nuh uh,” you breathed shaking your head as you let yourself be guided to the equipment locker.

Chadwick made quick work of replacing the basketball in the locker and shutting down the court lights before taking you by the hand and gesturing to the exit with his head. “Come on,” he said taking long impatient strides out of the court, down the hallway and towards the men’s locker/shower room.

“Wait here,” Chadwick instructed, and you waited while he double checked to make sure there was nobody in there. You knew the place was supposed to be empty but for what you were about to do, it would have benefited your piece of mind to be sure.

Chadwick reappeared a moment later, taking your hand and pulling you inside, shutting the door behind you and following him past the lockers out into the showers which smelled like bleach and grout.

Before he could tell you what he had planned, you toed off your sneakers and pulled off your socks, and Chadwick watched as you peeled off your shirt before springing to action and starting to undress himself. You were quickly naked, and Chadwick reached into one of the showers and turned it on. Steam began streaming out of the shower and you fixed Chadwick with a slow devious smile.

You closed the gap between you and placed your palms against his chest, guiding him with gentle force backwards until streams of water began cascading over his naked body.

“You ever have the home game hero and cheerleader fantasy?” You asked, sliding your body against his as his arms came around your waist and slid down to your ass.

“I am now,” he said, the hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watched you with a heavy-lidded gaze. He pressed his palms against the flesh of your butt, pulling you right up against him until you were completely fused together.

You smiled and licked your lips and reached up on your toes to pull him into a slow, sensual kiss. Almost immediately, his lips parted to meet with your tongue and down below, you felt the tickle of his cock beginning to press against the seam of your thighs.

You teased him with your mouth, licking, biting and sucking before pulling away and rubbing up and down his chest breathlessly.

“Do you think the rest of your team will hear if I get on my knees and suck your cock?”

Chadwick’s lips immediately turned upwards.

“It’s the least you deserve for such a good game,” you purred, letting your hand slide down to his stomach and over his pelvis until you were able to grasp his swelling shaft in your hand. You watched his face as his expressions changed, first closing his eyes as you stroked him and then licking his lips and meeting you with an intensely lustful stare.

“All I could think about while I was watching you on the court was what your cock would taste like in my mouth,” you said working your hand over his length until he was at full arousal, standing straight up and ready for you. “What if your coach finds us in here fooling around?”

Chadwick was biting back the smile of a man whose fantasy life was exploding right before him, but if he didn’t play it cool, then it would literally explode before things got good.

“I’s all good baby, I promise. Get down on your knees and I promise not to make a sound.”

It was all you needed to hear and with him readily playing along, you sunk down against the tiles and inched your face close to Chadwick’s perfect cock, large and rearing in the steam of the shower.

You glanced up at his face with a smile and put your finger to your lips, miming to him to keep quiet.

Chadwick pressed his lean body back against the shower wall and watched as you brought him to your mouth and closed your lips over the tip with a moan. His whole body responded, his breath immediately shallowing, his mouth dropping open and his hands coming to the sides of your head.

You slowly worked your tongue and lips over, up and down the length of him, sucking, kissing and licking in slowly languorous passes with your soft, wet, warm mouth. You moaned quietly and felt him guiding your head gently with his hands into a rhythm that he liked.

“Ah fuck, that’s right baby. Just like that,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust and restraint.

You watched him closely, never breaking eye contact even though sometimes, his eyes shut from the sheer amount of pleasure your mouth was administering to him. You began to see his breath hitching and his eyebrows furrowing, and you knew he was close was coming.

Before you could ready yourself for it, Chadwick took a fistful of your sodden hair from the back of your head and pulled you away from him.

“Stand up baby,” he instructed you, and you obeyed, rising to your feet.

Before you could steady yourself, you felt yourself get hoisted up into Chadwick’s arms, your back pressing into the shocking, cold tile on the other side of the shower cubicle.

You gasped and arched towards him, feeling him hoist you up so he could place his arms under the crook of your knees and spreading your legs with his arms.

Awed and shocked by his strength, you fixed your eyes on his and you pressed your hands onto his chest once more as he positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance and slowly began nudging in.

“Oh God, Oh fuck,” you groaned in anticipation.

You felt the pleasant slip between your folds, the tentative press into your entrance, the spreading to his girth and finally the feeling of slowly filling with the heat and hardness of his flesh.

“Oh my god,” you sighed closing your eyes and letting your neck loll until the back of your head was pressed against the tile. “Please Chadwick,” you begged closing your hands around the back of his neck, “Please, please, please.”

Knowing what you wanted, Chadwick began moving his hips thrusting shallow and slow, teasing you with movement but not giving you the full gloriousness of his sex. In this position, he was in full control and you could only hang in his arms and take what he was giving.

You ached to thrust forwards against him, but you would have little impact even if you could, so you resorted to begging. “More Chadwick, please give me more.”

Chadwick smiled and moaned, low and growly before obliging you with long, deep thrusts up against the wall.

“Oh fuck, yes!” you cried repositioning your hands to his shoulders where you could squeeze and claw and scratch.

Water slid over you both and Chadwick held you in the air while his drove his hips forwards with perfect rhythm, pressure and depth.

Pressing against you, Chadwick covered your mouth with his, absorbing your pleasured sounds and feeding you his own. The delicious contrast of his languid, rounded movement together with the solid steel of his body as water cascaded down his skin was everything and not a single worry or second thought for what lay ahead of you occurred to you as you felt the familiar climb towards ecstasy in his capable and reassuring hold.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered against his mouth, as a way to let him know you were close and taking his mouth again, whimpering into his greedy and searching kisses.

He thrust assuredly, and with each slide inside you keened closer to the edge. “Ah, Chadwick, oh god, oh god...”

“I’m with you, I’m right with you baby, come with me,” he said and through the white, stabbing heat of your climax you reserved just enough awareness to feel him seize under your hands, his body going rigid as sounds you could only assume came from the two of you in your mutual climax bounced back forth between the four small walls of the shower cubical. His voice ground out, guttural and harsh from the back of his throat while yours came out on the wings of your short, sharp breaths.

He kept thrusting, prolonging the moment, wringing every last twitch, every wave and drop of pleasure out of you until you were thoroughly and completely spent.

Once you had come back down to earth, Chadwick slowly lowered you back down onto your feet, holding you around the waist as a precaution against your unsteady legs. When he was sure you could stand, he straightened and brought his hands to either side of your face, smiling down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and satisfaction.

You held his forearms and returned his affectionate gaze and feeling the moment between you heavy and expectant like he was wanting to say something, but holding back or deciding how best to say it.

Finally, you watched as his bottom lip dropped open, poised to speak and your body drew still in anticipation.

“Y/N…”

“Yes,” you whispered, looking up into his eyes.

“Will you go to prom with me?”

[stimtoybox]

I’ve been going through my drafts folder, and aside from videos I’ve drafted from YouTube (that I need to spend a lot of spoons on describing and formatting) I’ve been able to queue and tag one post in fifty from my PC.

I can’t not add content to the queue, whether Tumblr fixes this or not. I hope there’s enough outcry that Tumblr goes back on this, but until then, if such a thing happens, I’m going to be queuing untagged all non-original posts. I also won’t be adding links like I sometimes do or any other resources or comments to posts that aren’t my own original content, because I can’t.

(If they have these things, it’s because they were already in the queue.)

I will go to the effort of tagging GIF/flickering/moving images because they’re dangerous, but everything else will have to be at risk of including content you may not wish to see--posts that discuss ableism, posts about autism that allistic stimmers would prefer to blacklist, etc. I do not have the spoons for adding tags to non-original content that I’m queuing from my iPad and I cannot provide this until Tumblr returns full functionality to PC users, meaning I cannot provide tags for warning or blacklisting purposes on other users’ content.

I’m truly sorry if this makes this blog unfollowable for anyone; I absolutely understand if you can no longer follow for this reason and I hope you find another stim blogger who isn’t impacted by this. I really don’t wish to have to do this, as you all know the work I’ve put into tagging this blog as an archive (especially for making posts easier to find) but I was already running two blogs closer to the absolute limit of my ability before this disaster. Tagging non-original posts via the app is absolutely outside my ability and I’m not going to try something I won’t be able to keep up.

Thanks so much for your patience on this regard. I don’t suppose it makes it easier to say that I’m desperately unhappy about this, but I am.

[ladywinchester1967]

When Love and Hate Collide.

Summary: With her life in shambles; reader encounters Dean Winchester for the first time in years. When he makes her an offer to take the pain away and she gives in, will either of them make it out alive?

Pairing: MOC!Dean x Demon!Reader (mentions of a previous relationship)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader (Y/N= your name), Tommy (OC), Doug (OC), Abaddon (mentioned), Rowena (mentioned).

Rating/Warnings: R/ SMUT, mentions of cheating, drinking, language, blood sharing, blood drinking, cutting, unprotected sex (wrap your wacker kids). This shit is DARK; Like pits of hell dark. Unbeta’d all mistakes belong to me.

Trigger warning: this doesn’t depict a healthy relationship AT ALL. If reading that type of stuff upsets you in anyway, please don’t go any further. Also if I tagged you and things like this upset you; please tell me!

Author’s Note: I’ve been writing and reading fan fiction for a long, long time and haven’t mustered up the courage to post any of it. However, I decided to post this one and I hope you guys like it! It’s part of a mini-series that I’m currently in the process of writing, I’ll post updates as soon as I finish them. Feedback/ constructive criticism is appreciated but please be kind.  

TAGS *if you want to be untagged, let me know*: @sis-tafics @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchesterenthusiast @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @impala-dreamer @queen-of-deans-booty @evansrogerskitten @littlegreenplasticsoldier @salvachester @luci-in-trenchcoats @charliebradbury1104 @anotherwaywardsister @just-another-winchester

*Part 1: Sinner*

Bend me, shape me, misdirect me;

It's all the same to me.

You look at me but you don't see,

Understand I'm a sinner. - Drowning Pool

She strode into the bar and made a beeline for her usual seat.

“Hey Y/N,” the bartender, Tommy, greeted her. “The usual?”

Y/N shook her head

“Make it a double” Y/N told him. 

Tommy didn’t say anything, her poured the drink and slid it her way. She quickly downed it and asked for another. She slowly sipped the next one, zoning out into the white noise of her own head.

“Y/N?” a deep, familiar voice asked.

She looked up and nearly spat out her drink.

“DEAN?!” She asked, taking him in.

It had been years since they had last seen each other, his dark blonde hair was longer on the top and he had more scruff on his face, he looked like he had more muscles, but the one thing that hadn’t changed were his startling green eyes; they were like a forest in springtime.

Y/N slid off her barstool and gave him a hug. He felt the same, smelled the same; but something was different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. He pulled back, his hands on her hips.

“What brings you to this neck of the woods?” She asked, her hands still on his shoulders.

“Just passing through,” he said “mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.” She said and they released one another.

They idly chatted while they drank; work and the weather, nothing too deep.

Until they started getting drunk that is. Dean had always been easy to talk to, he had always been honest and had actually listened to what she had to say.

“How’s married life treating you?” Dean asked.

A dark look came over Y/N’s face and she said

“Nothing to report.” as she knocked her drink back. Dean raised an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing to report?” He asked “I thought what’s his name?”

“Doug.” She said

“Doug was the greatest thing since sliced cheese?” He asked and she laughed. He’d missed that laugh; it brought back happy memories.

“He was,” she said and finished off the rest of her drink “until I caught him banging his secretary.”

Dean’s eyes widened

“And his yoga instructor,” she went on “AND our real estate agent.”

Dean’s jaw his the floor

“Seriously?” He asked

“As a heart attack,” she said “caught all four of them in our bed.” She flashed him a thumbs up. “Good times.”

“When did this happen?” He asked

She thought back and asked Tommy

“When did I find that out? Like six months ago?”

Tommy nodded

“Yep, right around the time Cindy gave birth.” Tommy said, referring to his girlfriend.

“So yeah, six months ago and there’s a nasty divorce ahead.” Y/N said and knocked back the rest of her drink.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Dean asked

“And say what?” Y/N asked and held up an imaginary phone “Oh hey Dean, I know we haven’t talked in 3 years by the way, I’m living my personal hell, how’s Kansas?”

Dean chuckled and said

“Always with the self deprecating humor.”

“Because if I don’t laugh, I’m gonna fucking cry.” She said

“You still could’ve called me, I would’ve at least broken his nose for you or something.” Dean said with a shrug.

“I beat you to that, sorry.” Y/N said with a satisfied grin.

“Or something else then.” he said looking over the rim of his glass at her, his eyebrows shooting up in a suggestive manner.

Y/N chuckled

“Yeah, okay sure.” She said

“I’m serious Y/N,” Dean said “THAT was always good with us.”

“Better than good,” Y/N answered “I remember the words “mind blowing” getting thrown around a couple of times.”

Dean shrugged

“Yeah, that did happen.” He said

How could she forget? Their time as a couple had been brief and worth forgetting, the sex; however, seemed to be permanently seared into her brain. When she needed some “alone time,” which was a lot since Doug barely wanted to touch her, she’d go back to those times with Dean and get lost in them. The memory of being bent over the hood of his 1967 Chevy Impala one starry night came back and she grinned.

“Yeah, I remember that night too.” He said.

“What night?” She asked, she hadn’t said anything out loud, or at least she was sure she hadn’t.

“In the field during the meteor shower?” He asked “I can see it, plain as day in your head.”

“How do you know what’s rattling around in my noggin?” She asked, shocked.

“Let’s just say that my hair isn’t the only thing that’s changed.” he said, his perfect mouth curling into his legendary sexy smile. He placed a hand gently on her knee and leaned forward, his mouth close to her ear.

“You wanna get outta here, wildling?” He asked, his breath sending little puffs on to her ear, making her shutter.

He’d called her by the nickname he’d given her because of how wild they could get together. She pulled back and grinned at him.

“Yeah.” She said and slapped forty bucks on the bar. “For me and him Tommy, keep the change.” Y/N told the bar tender as she and Dean got up. He took her hand in his, leading her out of the bar.

Once they were securely in Dean’s motel room, he pounced on her. He slammed her back against the door. He pressed his pelvis into her, his denim clad erection pushing into her stomach.

“Mh, you’re ready.” She commented.

“I’ve been ready for you since the second I saw you that bar,” he said, taking her wrists and pinning them above her head. “The last two fucking hours has been extended foreplay.”

She could feel the body heat rolling off of him, his familiar scent wrapping around her.

“Fuck it.” she decided and leaned in, smashing her lips against his. It felt like the Fourth of July, her birthday and New Years Eve all at once. This was what a passionate kiss was supposed to be, full of lust and heat. He opened his mouth and kissed her again, his tongue swiping across her teeth. She opened up and let him in, his tongue exploring her mouth. Her tongue met his and his hands gripped her wrists tightly.

“God damn baby,” he said breathlessly when the kiss ended “When was the last time you got laid?”

“It’s been a while okay?” She said as he released her and she looked away.

“How long Y/N?” He asked

She bit her lip and looked up at him.

“Like three months.” she told him

Dean grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the bed. He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“I’ll fix that.” He said and laid her on her back, the bed dipping as she landed on it with a soft “oof!”

They were all hands and mouths this time as he was on his knees and elbows above her; his hands tangled in her hair and hers running up and down his back. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and off of him, throwing it aside. His bare torso looked better in person than in her memory, an audible sigh falling from her mouth.

“Your ex must be blind and stupid,” he growled in her ear as he laid half on top of her “if I had you waiting for me at home, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, let alone look at another woman.”

“Show me Dean.” She said in a tone that she barely recognized as her own as he kissed her neck, her hand running through the hair on the back of his head.

He bit down on her neck and she cried out, squirming under him. He let out a dark chuckle, sat up a little bit and without warning, ripped her dress open. The ruined fabric fell away from her body revealing a black, lacy bra and pink panties. He groaned as he sat up on his knees and took her in.

“Better than I remember.” He said, his hand roamed over her curves, his calloused hands were warm and strong on her soft skin.

“Dean, please!” She begged as he flattened his hands on her sides.

“Be patient baby,” he said, his hands sliding over her hips and down her thighs, then back up again “I’m gonna make it worth your while.”

She knew he always made good on his promises, especially where sex was concerned, so she nodded. He opened her legs wide and groaned again.

“Fuck, you’re wet all ready.” he said and picked up one of her legs, throwing it over his shoulder. He kissed the inside of her knee and up her inner thigh, the stubble on his face scratching her sensitive skin, making her back arch. He picked up her other leg and did the same thing, when he got to the apex of her thighs, he quickly slid her panties off and tossed them aside. He laid down between her legs, his mouth inches from her dripping core.

“Mhhh,” he moaned and licked a thick stripe from her opening to her clit, making her squirm “you taste even better than I remember.” He said, his mouth closing over her clit and sucking on it. Her hands were immediately in his hair as she whined, his tongue flicking through her folds as she cried out

“Oh god, yes!”

“That’s it baby,” he encouraged her “yell for me.”

His tongue wound circles around her clit as he slid two fingers easily inside of her. His tongue flicked over her clit as he slowly pumped his fingers into her. He closed his mouth over her clit and sucked on it, making her writhe.

“Ohhhhh god, Dean, don’t stop, please don’t stop.” She begged him, the chord in her stomach winding tight as she started to get lightheaded.

“You want to come for me sweetheart?” He asked, his thumb sliding up and making circles on her clit, making a high pitched cry come out of her along with a stream of swears and his name. “Come on baby, come. Come for me.” He made the come here motion with the fingers inside of her, making the chord in her belly snap as a loud scream ripped through her. He worked her through the orgasm, drawing it out for all she was worth. She laid back, panting as he sucked her slick off his thumb. He held his middle and forefingers up to her mouth and said 

“Suck”

She grabbed his wrist and took his fingers into her mouth, sucking her own slick off of them, making him groan. She swore his eyes went black from being so lust blown, but her mind had been known to play tricks on her, so she ignored it. She swirled her tongue around his fingers and then sucked on them hard.

“Holy fuck.” Dean said quietly and pulled his hand away from her mouth. He quickly took his pants and underwear off while she unhooked her bra and tossed it to the side. With both of them naked, Dean crawled on top of her and laid her on her back.

“What do you want?” He asked, smoothing her hair out of her face.

“To forget,” she told him, her hands running up his strong, bare arms. “To forget my husband has been fooling around on me during our entire marriage. Help me forget Dean.”

Without a word, Dean placed a passionate kiss on her lips and easily slid inside her.

“My name is gonna be the only one you scream now.” He told her, holding his hips still inside her “I can’t get you out of my head Y/N, and I know you think about me when you’re all alone. You want me, I want you.” He slowly started to move his hips, slowly and deliciously. “You. Are. Mine.” He said and snapped his hips into her, punctuating each word with a thrust. 

Y/N screamed out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Say it Y/N.” Dean commanded and her eyes met his. 

His expression was full of dominance and lust, making a shutter run down her spine. “I’m-“ She stammered “I’m-AAAH!-I’m yours Dean, all yours!”

“Such a good girl,” he said and kissed her hard “You always were good for me.” He commented as he moved his hips faster. 

She dug her nails into his back and dragged them down, making him groan.

“Yes, yes,” he moaned in her ear and gave it a bite. She cried out and he moved his hips faster.“Oh fuck, fuck!” She yelled “Dean, I’m gonna come!”

“Come sweetheart,” he said in her ear and bit down on her shoulder, making her scream as she exploded around him, her nails digging into his back again and her vision going white for a few seconds. He gripped her hair hard and cried out loudly, almost sounding like a roar, as he finished inside of her and stilled. He rolled off of her and on to his back, his hand still tangled in her hair as they both caught their breath. 

“Holy shit.” She said quietly and he chuckled. He rolled over to his stomach and they lazily kissed. His free hand cupped her face as they kissed; she placed her hand over his and gave his lip a playful bite. He pulled back and gave her a panty busting smirk.

“Naughty.” He said and booped the her nose. 

They both tugged their underwear on and moved to lay under the covers, her head on his chest and her hand skimming over his skin. He had one hand in her hair while the other ran up and down her back. Her eyes drifted down and saw what looked like a burn on his inner right arm. It was in the shape of upside down L with hash marks next to it.

“What happened?” She asked and nodded to the mark.

“Remember when I said my hair wasn’t the only thing that was different?” He asked and lightly tugged on her hair so she was looking up at him. She nodded and he went on “to make a long, bloody and complicated story short, it’s the Mark of Cain.”

“Cain?” She asked “like Cain and Abel?”

He nodded “He gave it to me, I died and came back.” he blinked and there was no mistaking it now, his beautiful green eyes were pitch black. “As a demon.”

She furrowed her eyebrows.

“But, there’s no such thing.” She said “After you left, I stopped believing in that.” His eyes returned to their normal green and he said

“That was me, I did that to protect you.”

“I don’t understand.” She said and sat up, gathering the sheet around her chest. He sat up too and asked

“Haven’t you ever wondered why you can’t remember our relationship? Why the only thing that stands out is the sex?”

“Because it was that good?” She asked “we weren’t together that long Dean.”

“Yes we were,” he said “a year and a half.”

Her heart rate increased as she gripped the sheet. She thought hard, but nothing other than a few romps in the hay came back to her.

“You can think as hard as you want,” he said “but that’s all you can remember for a reason.”

She stared at him; confused, scared and hurt.

“What did you do to me?!” She demanded. 

He sighed, dragged his bottom lip between his teeth and then spoke.

“When I left, I was on a Knight of Hell’s shit list.” He explained “She was torturing anyone and everyone I cared about to get information on me. So, to keep you safe, I asked a witch who owed me a favor to cast a spell. Something that would change your memories of our relationship into what looked like casual encounters.” She stared at him and he continued “Haven’t you ever wondered why you never take the ring on your middle finger off?” He asked.

She looked down at her right hand; the thin silver band with runes engraved on it looked back at her.

“Because my Mom gave it to me for my sweet sixteen.” She answered and he shook his head.

“That’s the spell,” he said, tapping the ring with his finger “the witch, Rowena, enchanted it so even if Abbadon, the Knight of Hell, got a hold of you, all she would be able to see is what you could remember, which is just sex; nothing of use to her.”

She stared at him, she was somewhere between terrified and thinking that he had lost his mind.

“I know you think I’m crazy,” he said and tapped his temple “perk of being a demon, I can see what’s going on in your head. If you take the ring off, you’ll remember everything.”

“I can’t take it off.” she said instantly and he smirked.

“Another defense mechanism,” He said “gotta give Rowena credit, she knew what she was doing when she cast this spell.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, the memories of her relationship and marriage to Doug cycling through her head like a slide show. The loneliness, the heart break, the self doubt; it all started to hurt.

“Fuck.” She said and wiped away a tear that had fallen down her face.

“I can see everything that happened to you since I left,” he said “had I known then what I know now, I would’ve found another way to keep you safe.”

“I don’t want you to keep me safe.” She told him, her breaths coming quickly. “I’m tired of getting hurt, I let Doug walk all over me and where did that get me? Divorced at twenty-eight that’s where.” She said and Dean’s mouth curled into a smile.

“What if I told you there’s a way to fix that?” He asked “I can make you powerful enough where no one like Doug will hurt you ever again?”

She nodded

“I want it Dean,” she told him “whatever you’re selling, I’m buying it.”

Dean got out of bed and walked over to his pants that were laying on the ground. He fished around in his pocket until he found a small knife he kept on him. He walked back to the bed and sat down, facing her.

“What’re you gonna do? Kill me?” She asked him. He tucked her hair behind her ear, his expression softening.

“No,” he said “I could never kill you Y/N, I can’t so much as lay a finger on you. But I see someone else has.”

Dean could hear the sound of Doug’s open palm going across Y/N’s cheek, feel the sting that it left behind. Y/N’s eyes hardened, trying to push the memories down. Anger flashed across Dean’s face and he made a mental note to make that asshole pay.

“Demons can take mates,” He explained “mostly humans they use for sex or as shields when the shit hits the fan.” He held her face in his hand “but, when a demon takes another demon as their mate, it’s for life.”

“You can turn me into a demon?” She asked and he nodded “How?”

“I’ll feed you my blood,” he said “and we’ll do the binding ritual. That’s quicker than spending eternity in hell torturing souls.”

“Do it.” She told him

“Are you sure?” He asked “because once we do this, there’s no going back. No do overs, no restarts, nothing.”

She stared at him and then at the knife.“I’m sure,” she said “No one will ever hurt me again.”

He nodded, gripped her hair and passionately kissed her. When the kiss was over, he released her hair and held the knife to his wrist. “Wait,” She said, worried and he smirked.

“I can’t die sweetness,” he said “not with this thing on my arm.” His eyes flicked down to the mark. “Already worried about me,” he said with a note of tenderness in his voice “this is why you’re a perfect mate.” He quickly sliced his wrist open, blood trickled down his arm as he held it up to her. “Drink.” He commanded. She took his wrist into her hands, her eyes never leaving his as she pressed her mouth to the wound and began to suck. The iron taste of his blood filled her mouth as she swallowed. It felt like pure evil was seeping into every cell in her body. She sucked harder and swallowed, more blood rolling down her throat, the inky blackness traveling down her body as he gasped.

“That’s it baby, drink.” He told her as she continued. The metallic taste was less shocking by her third gulp, his lips slightly parted as he used his free hand to tuck her stray hair behind her ear. “Good girl,” he cooed “such a good girl for me.” His words, the intimacy of the act, the way he was looking at her; made her panties soak. He bit his lip as she sucked again, drawing more of his blood into her mouth and swallowing it down. Dean could see the change taking place; her posture relaxed, her hair seemed to shine more as her eyes slowly went from y/e/c to a darkened grey. Her tongue slid over his wound only to find that it had closed up.

“More?” She asked as he pulled his wrist away. 

She had some of his blood on the corner of her mouth, which he wiped away with his thumb and held it up for her. She licked it away with the tip of her tongue, making him growl.

“It’s a process baby, and we’re only getting started.” He said and kissed her forehead. When he pulled back, he gave her the knife and said “Your turn.”

“But won’t I-?” She asked and he interrupted

 “Not with my blood in your system,” he said “demon healing factor.”

She nodded and held the knife to her wrist. He stopped her and said

“Use this one,” and tapped his finger on her opposite wrist “I used my left, you use your right. It has to be opposites or it won’t work.”

She nodded and switched the knife to her left hand. Without warning, she was scared.

“Dean,” she breathed as she looked up at him. 

He held her face in his hands.“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said “I lost you once to protect you, I won’t lose you again. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She said and they kissed, hot and heavy. 

When the kiss ended, she pressed the knife hard into her skin and it tore open, dark red blood poured from the wound as she held it up for him. He took her wrist in his hands and sucked, her blood filling his mouth. He did as she had, drinking until the wound closed; when he was done, he smirked, his eyes flashing black.

“A couple more steps,” he told her “then you’re mine.”

Her lips curled into a sinister grin as his eyes returned to their normal green.

“Do it.” She told him.

He took the knife from her hand, put it aside and turned her left wrist so that it was facing up. He placed his right arm close to her left one and said

“I have to cut us both open,” he drew a line with his pointer and middle fingers down both of their wrists “and say the incantation, when I say, we’ll press our cuts together like this” he pressed his forearm into hers and gripped it with his hand “then we’ll kiss.” She smiled as his eyes then bore into hers “No matter what you hear, see or feel, DO NOT let go of me. Understand?”

She nodded “I won’t let go.” She told him

“Good girl.” He told her, he picked up the knife and began to chant in what sounded like Latin. She watched and waited as he closed his eyes, the words rolling off of his tongue like poetry. He continued to chant as he cut both of their wrists open and said 

“Now Y/N.”

Just like he had shown her, she turned her forearm into his and held it there as she closed her eyes. The air around them seemed to charge with electricity as he continued to chant, their blood mingled as it flowed from their cuts, leaving a tingling and stinging sensation in its wake. She gripped his arm tighter, the sensation going straight to her core, an involuntary moan escaping her lips. He stopped speaking and they kissed; she felt an invisible iron cuff snap over their arms, holding them together while they kissed. She gasped through their kiss and when it ended, he pulled back.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” He asked and she nodded “that means it’s working.”

They shared a grin as she squirmed, her aching core begging for some kind of friction.

“There’ll be time for that,” Dean said “I promise.”

For a brief second, she could hear her own voice moaning his name.

“You hear that baby?” He asked and she nodded “You can hear what I’m thinking.” She focused on his face and could see into his mind; it was like watching a movie on an extremely dusty television. 

“It’ll get stronger when you’re a full demon.” He told her.

“What’s the last step?” She asked.

His mouth curled upwards into a sinister grin.

“You kill.”

[witchymarvelspacecase]

Spread Your Wings - Pt. 5: The Words

Summary: Reader is a HYDRA experiment (like the Maximoffs, but not voluntary) who grows wings (like Angel from X-Men). She escapes (escape covered in Prologue) and is now trying to rescue and prevent further kidnappings and experiments.

Word Count: 1987

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of phobias

A/N: Here it is. A very, very large THANK YOU to both @imhereforbvcky, and @writingwithadinosaur, for their general wonderfulness and amazing writing skills! I have tagged everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on the prologue, if you would like to be tagged, or untagged, just let me know! There’s a few POV changes here FYI

Spread Your Wings Masterlist

Updated: 9/6/18

“Barton” turned out to be Clint Barton, or Hawkeye. A sarcastic archer, who you decided quite quickly may be your new best friend.

You met him when Bruce Banner arrived, and he Tony and Wanda took you down to the lab to start running scans on your head. Clint came in just as Bruce attached the last electrode to your head.

“I see you guys finally talked someone into getting your cerebral hair extensions,” he drawled as he passed behind Tony, and clapped Bruce on the shoulder.

Wanda chuckled, as did you. Tony rolled his eyes, but Bruce smiled good-naturedly, and introduced Clint to you before he explained what all the wires and sensors would be doing for the test.

“Basically they’re gonna fry your brain, kid,” Clint said from his position leaning back against a table with his arms crossed, legs crossed at the ankle.

“That’s assuming I have one left at all,” you replied. Clint laughed.

“Why are you even in here, Legolas? Don’t you have a secret family in the country to bother?” You cocked your head at Tony’s question; you knew there must have been a story there, you’d have to ask about it later.

“Natasha called me, and asked me to come help out with the kid you found. As for me being in the lab, I just wanna bug you, Tony.”

“Clint,” Wanda interjected as Tony opened his mouth to retort, “it may be best if you wait to bother Tony until he’s not messing with Y/N’s brain. Go find Nat, she’ll be with Tomas.”

Tony shot her an indignant look, Clint chuckled and made to leave, but stopped at your side briefly.

“Whenever these guys let you loose, we should talk; I know all the gossip,” he said with a wink as he left. You smirked and shook your head very slightly, careful not to dislodge any of the wires resting on your skin.

…

“Well, it looks like we shouldn't remove the chip at the moment. I’m not saying it’s not possible, but we don’t have the right equipment for that here,” Bruce said after studying the test results. Your shoulders sagged a little; you hadn’t wanted to get your hopes up, but a part of you had really hoped the chip could be gone.

“But, I think I know what’s wrong with it,” Tony said from across the lab. He was looking at a large screen suspended from the ceiling that appeared to have detailed schematics on it. “We should be able to fix it up in the meantime. Might even make a few upgrades.”

“So long as they’re not like the HYDRA ‘upgrades’, that sounds good.”

“Nothing like those,” Tony said, coming over to stand in front of you, “anything happens that you’re not comfortable with, we’ll stop. You just gotta tell us.” He reached out a hand and rested in on your shoulder. You looked at him, Bruce, and then at Wanda, who was still in the room. Wanda gave you a small smile and a nod. Everyone in the room understood your apprehension; your fear. You met Tony’s eyes again, and nodded.

“We’ll get on the upgrades then. Give us a day or two, and don’t use your chip until we upgrade,” Bruce said as he and Tony set to removing the sensors from your head.

“Should be an easy promise to keep.” You smiled a little and Wanda led you out of the lab.

…

Later that evening, you were on the roof of the building. It wasn’t particularly high off the ground, but it was enough. Enough that when you spread your wings to their fullest extent, and felt the breeze brush over your feathers, you could breathe a sigh of relief. Though your back, and still healing wing ached, open air would always make you feel better, safer. Not that bundling up with a million blankets next to a fireplace wasn’t nice too, but at your worst moments, you sought places high up, off the ground and open to the elements; something easy to launch off. It was a great source of comfort for you, but you knew that it was the opposite for most people. Especially, it seemed, Bucky.

Bucky had come to the roof looking for you. In general, he tried to avoid the roof of anything over two stories. Bucky had enough traumatic memories associated with falling, that heights and edges were among his least favorite things. But seeing you standing there, backlit by the setting sun, he almost forgot his fear. Almost; he still didn’t approach the edge.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for ya,” he called, causing you to turn around.

“Sorry, I needed the height.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for, Doll. But would ya’ mind stepping away from the edge a little?” You complied, but tilted your head in question; not only at his request for you to step back, but also at his use of a nickname. You didn’t mind, quite the opposite actually, you just hadn’t expected it.

“I, uh, I don’t like heights much,” Bucky explained, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. Fear you could understand, even if this particular fear was entirely foreign to you. You nodded and came closer to him, pulling your wings tighter to your body.

“It’s called Basophobia, the fear of falling. Fear of heights is Acrophobia. They’re different things, but sorta related I guess. I have Merinthophobia,” you paused at Bucky’s confused expression, “it’s the fear of being restrained, or tied up. I guess I’m Claustrophobic too, but I think that’s more cause if I’m in a space that I can’t spread my wings out, it sort of hurts. Aaaaand I’m completely babbling, aren’t I? Sorry.” You began mentally berating yourself. Nobody gave a shit what their phobias were called, let alone what yours were. You didn’t really talk to people much, but for some reason, Bucky made you want to talk.

Bucky chuckled lightly.

“Don’t have to apologize,” he said. There was a small smile on his face as he said it, but you still felt the need to apologize again; the awkwardness had diminished but for some reason you were still hyper-aware of every single thing you did when Bucky was present. Everything that he did too.

At that moment he had closed most of the distance between the two of you. He was looking at your wings. The setting sun was filtering through the filaments of your primaries, making them look especially soft. Buck seemed transfixed, barely stopping himself as he reached put his right hand to touch the feathers.

“Shit, sorry! I didn’t even ask,” Bucky said, pulling his arm back quickly and muttering something that sounded like “way to go, ya jerk”, under his breath.

You laughed quietly before saying, “it’s okay to touch them; I don’t mind.”

Without thinking, you reached out, grabbed his right wrist and brought his hand back up to your left wing.

He looked to you, still unsure, but you smiled and nodded slightly in encouragement. Ever since leaving HYDRA, you’d been sensitive to touch; you sought it out, craved it almost, especially when it came to your wings. The scientists at HYDRA had only ever touched your wings in a rough, cold manner. After escaping, having people touch your wings was a reminder that you weren’t in that place anymore; that you were free. You took great comfort from other people’s gentle touches.

Bucky seemed awestruck. He hadn’t taken any comfort in touch when he’d first escaped HYDRA; he had even flinched away from Steve. He could enjoy physical contact after a while, but he was shocked at you. Not only had you not stopped Tomas or him from touching your wings, which Bucky knew would have been the focus of most of HYDRA’s experiments (much like his arm had been), but you’d welcomed it.

He spread his fingers, lightly brushing them over the top arch of your wings and down the feathers.

“They’re so soft,” Bucky brought his face closer to your wings, looking at the feathers. He was just a breath away from you, you could feel the warmth from his skin just as he could feel the warmth of your wings.  He hadn’t noticed how close he’d gotten to you. The moment he did, he went to move away. However, at that same moment, the door to the roof banged open, starling both of you. Then Bucky was startled again.

Bucky who had been standing with his back to the door, had quickly turned his body to face it, and brought his right arm behind him to move your body entirely behind his, placing himself between the door and you. But your instant reaction had been to wrap your wings around the both of you, just as you’d done to shield Tomas, but now it was Bucky. Bucky, who was so used to being the one to put himself in the line of fire to protect other people. Whether it was out of a twisted self-hatred, or the knowledge that he was physically able to handle more damage than most people didn’t matter, he did it. Except, you had done it instead. The only other person who had put themselves in the line of fire for him was Steve. But while Steve did it because of years of friendship, you’d put yourself on the line for him after only having known him for a few days; it threw Bucky for a loop.

When you realized that the person coming out the door was not a threat, you retracted your wings quickly and completely, hiding them from sight, but you didn’t step away from Bucky. You were almost pressed to his back, but his arm had wound its way around your side to hold you in place as you’d wrapped your wings around the both of you; he hadn’t released you yet.

“Steve? What’s got ya slammin’ doors all of a sudden? I know your ma raised you better than that,” Bucky teased a little stiffly. He held his body rigid, his arm tightening around you.

“You gotta come to the conference room. Tomas remembered something, but we can’t make heads or tails of it. We’re hoping Y/N can.”

“What’s the rush?” you asked gently, not wanting to startle Bucky, who was still tense.

“He said it was something the HYDRA soldiers had said after their ‘angel’ comment.”

“Then let’s hear it,” you said, resting your hand on Bucky’s forearm, just enough to remind him that he was still holding you. He moved his arm slowly, glancing over his shoulder at you as he did. You gave him a half-smile as you walked around him towards Steve, and you gave his arm a light squeeze as you passed. Bucky smiled a little as he followed you and Steve down the stairs to the conference room.

That was where everything went to shit.

You sat in the chair closest to the door, Bucky on your right, Natasha on your left, and Tomas repeated the words he’d overheard the soldiers saying. He struggled a little since the words were not in his native Portuguese, but in Russian. But it didn’t matter because the words still had their desired effect.

“желание, рушиться, восемнадцать, сумерки, кулер, девятнадцать, злокачественный, отъезд, ноль, двигатель” (desire, crumble, eighteen, twilight, cooler, nineteen, malignant, departure, zero, engine)

You barely even heard the third word. Your ears were filled with a ringing sound and your vision was narrowing and unfocused. But the moment the last word was spoken, the damage had been done. It was only made worse by Tony speaking up when he noticed the change in your demeanor.

“Angel?” he asked, using the name you hated. He meant it as a harmless nickname, but for you, it was more.

“готов к полету,” you responded. (ready to fly).

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[alia-turin]

Fic Title: Broken Bonds [Chapter XI]   All Chapters: Master List

Rating:M (NSFW) Characters: OC, Libertus Ostium, Cor Leonis,  Luche Lazarus (mentioned), Titus Drautos | Glauca (mentioned), Nyx Ulric (mentioned), Gladiolus Amicitia, Crowe Altius (mentioned), Iris Amicitia, Prompto, Ignis Summary:  Final chapter

Notes: I’m a terrible person. Or am i? Tagging: @birdsandivory @jojopitcher @lazarustrashpit @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @fromunseeliecourt

(if you wish to be tagged or untagged, please let me know)

Ada slammed the door of her apartment and stood still for few moments.

“Damn you, Cor.” She whispered in the dark. What could she do? Follow his ‘orders’. Fuck his orders. She wasn’t going to abandon the Kingsglaive again when they needed every able body. First time she didn’t really have a choice, now…

…then again, she didn’t want to go into another shouting match with Libertus. She knew him too well and if Cor had really spoken with him, he would side with Cor. Damn him as well.

Slowly she moved to the closet and pulled out her backpack and started shoving clothes in it. Some of her stuff were at Cor’s place but damn him, he could keep them or burn them, she didn’t really care.

Maybe that was for the best. After all, neither she nor Cor were big on sharing and talking about feelings. It always took a fight or some other similar situation for one of them to say something about how they felt about each other. She had to be extremely angry to spit out in her rage that she loved him. But there was that, love or no love, Cor Leonis could go and order someone else around.

Ada had loved two men in her entire life, still loved both of them and couldn’t be with either of them. One was dead, the other couldn’t understand what she was telling him. She wasn’t Cor’s girlfriend or lover or partner or whatever. She was a Glaive and had a duty before being Cor’s anything. She shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. She should have stuck to loving one man, a dead man, but at least all the damage he could have done was already done. Luche couldn’t come from the grave to tell her how to live her life.

“Ada.” Cor knocked on her door very loudly.

“I don’t want to talk with you.” She closed her backpack and went looking for her second pair of boots.

“Ada, I’m not below kicking that door open, I will talk with you one way or another.” He responded and there was still anger in his voice. Didn’t he have enough fighting? Why was he here for more?

She ignored him, he was free to do whatever he wanted with that door, she was going to leave that place anyway. She was strapping her boots to each side of her backpack as a loud thud came. Then a second one and the door opened violently with a crack. Ada was still kneeling next to her backpack she turned around to see Cor, all anger, storm the room and rush towards her. She didn’t have much time to react, while she was attempting to get up he was already on her pinning her against the cold floor.

“Cor, let me go!” she tried to free her hands but he just trapped her wrists harder against the floor.

“No.” he was just standing on top of her icy blue eyes fixed on hers. “I love you. I shouldn’t have ordered you. I should have asked you. I should have told you I love you and that’s why I don’t want you to go to Angelgard.” He said all that in the same breath as if he was practicing all the way from his office to here.

They stood like that neither of them saying anything else. Ada could feel her hands hurting because he was stopping her blood flow, but she didn’t care about that right now. She could try fighting him off her of course, which wouldn’t end in her favour. He was twice her size and weight and his fighting abilities were superior. She also didn’t want to be away from him. She might have spat it in anger but it was true, she did love him, and what he said right now was probably the most romantic thing he ever said. The more she looked into his eyes the harder it was becoming to decide if she wanted to stay or to kick him.

“You are hurting me. My hands.” She said eventually and he eased his grip a bit but didn’t let go of her.

“Will you stay?” he asked moving his face closer to hers, their noses almost touching.

“Cor…” she said that as he leaned further and kissed her neck. “Cor…” he kissed her again. “I love you but…” he continued kissing her and she could feel her mind going in a direction opposite of the anger she felt until now. “I wasn’t angry, because you ordered me. I was, but not only. I don’t deserve the special treatment, I don’t deserve to live and have someone else to die in my place.” He wasn’t stopping his kisses. “Cor, are you listening to me?”

“I’m.” he stopped kissing her which was frustrating, but she wanted to talk.

“Cor, sex won’t fix that.” She said that with as much determination as she could, since sex was a pleasant alternative to arguing.

“Can I try to prove you wrong?” he grinned, but it was obvious he was joking. “Nobody is dying because of you. Your duty is not to die. Yes, I am giving you a special treatment, but I’m doing it only because I love you and I want you to be close to me. You are useful here and I don’t want to lose you. I cannot lose you. That’s the one and only time I have done something to protect you from danger and I have wanted to do it so many other times. Every time you go out on a hunt alone I want to go with you because I’m worried. Every time I know you will ask Monica for a job I want to tell her to give you a broom and make you sweep Lestallum. I know you are capable, by the Six, I know if you decide to fight me now you will give me a good run for my money, I will still win, but I know you are strong and I don’t doubt that, I just care about you so much and I don’t want to lose you. Not you. I have lost everything in my life. My best friends died and I was helpless. Half of the Crownsguard died with them and I was helpless. The Prince is gone and I am helpless. There is one thing I can protect and keep whole and that is you. I should have told you all that. Not even today, I should have said it weeks ago, I should have said it the moment I realized I love you.” He sighed. “I don’t think I have ever spoken so much in my entire life.”

Her heart was breaking as she was listening to him. She could understand him far too well. She had lost everything as well in the ruins of Insomnia. Friends, a lover, most of her senses, the ability to smile at silly things, sleep eight hours blissfully and her purpose. Perhaps going to Angelgard was exactly that, finding that lost purpose. She did love him, he made her smile again and feel somehow whole, but was that enough to just ignore her duty. Then again how much of that was her duty? She had followed her so called duty once before, ignoring her heart, allowing it to break, and where did that lead her? She was alive with the knowledge she had stood her ground, but for what? A year of pain and self-destruction? But that was different wasn’t it? It wasn’t about picking sides, and deciding who is right or wrong. It was about how selfish she wanted to be. What was more selfish of her? To leave everything just because he was ordering her to stay, out of love and concern, or to stay with him and let the other Glaives face their destiny.

‘Your unselfish choice fills you with selfishness’ she remembered hearing that somewhere and it somehow fit.

“I will stay.” She said the words barely loud enough for him to hear it. Cor’s lips curved in a smile. “But…you might have to show me how you fix it with sex. And you owe me one from this morning.” she added lauder and smiled back at him.

“Vixen.” Cor laughed and pushed his hips against hers making her feel his hardness.

“Long emotional arguments make you hard?” Ada moved her head up and kissed the smile on his lips.

“Being on top of you and pinning you to the ground does that for me. Adrenalin from arguments as well.” He kissed her cheek and moved down to her neck but he suddenly stopped and stared laughing.

“What?” Ada was confused and a bit disappointed that he had to interrupt his kisses.

“Nothing I just remembered something Clarus, Gladio’s dad, told me some time ago. See, before he married he was a bit like his son, or his son is like him. Lady’s man. Anyway, one day in moment of wisdom or heartache, I’m not sure, he told me that every man meets at least one redhead through his lifetime and they will usually turn his life upside down.” There was warmth in Cor’s voice every time he spoke about old memories of the King or his shield and Ada found that so gentle and kind. So different from the stern, serious man he usually was. “I think I met my redhead.”

“I’m turning your life upside down?” Ada wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer teasingly.

“You make me feel alive. That’s a serious change of pace.” He grabbed her left hand and moved it to his chest. His heart was beating so fast Ada didn’t even need to press her palm against him to feel it. He didn’t say anything anymore, but continued kissing her neck, leaving wet marks. He let go of her hands and moved to unbuttoning her shirt, using the weight of his body as much as possible to keep her pinned to the floor. His movements were filled with lust and desire, he wasn’t gentle but somehow every kiss and every touch of his rough hands felt filled with love. His lips started leaving dark red marks over the exposed skin of her breasts and Ada moaned loudly arching her body towards him as much as his weight allowed her.

“You are mine.” He groaned between kisses as his hands moved between her legs and started undoing her jeans. Ada could feel the heat and desire in her raising, her underwear was already soaked and she wanted him in her.

“Prove it.” She challenged him with a smile and Cor stopped his kisses to look at her.

“You should be careful what you wish for.” With one quick move he pulled her jeans and underwear down. He moved up to remove his t-shirt and unbutton his pants. Ada reached to help him, but he completely ignored her. Without even pulling his pants all the way down, he leaned towards her again, his cold blue eyes pinned on hers and he rammed his full length in her. The sound Ada made was between scream and moan, not expecting the pleasant intrusion. He didn’t wait for her to relax but started moving his hips mercilessly, trying to prove a point. Ada tried to reach for his face, to pull him for a kiss, but her move seemed clumsy and more like a desperate attempt to grab him. She couldn’t silence her loud moans, and the more pleasure she was receiving from him the lauder she was getting.

“Cor..” she managed to say with soar voice between two moans and he leaned forward pressing his lips against her and pushing his tongue in her mouth. His thrusts were still strong and forceful, but pleasant hitting all the right places in her. “Harder.” She whispered in his ear as he pulled away from her kiss. The Marshal didn’t need second invitation for that, he was a good soldier and following orders was easy. He moved one hand between her legs his fingers rubbing her exactly where she needed. Ada could feel her body getting all rigid and she came hard around him, but the Marshal didn’t seem to pay any attention to that. He continued rocking in her hard and fast, her body clenching around him, until he finally found his own release and collapsed on top of her, his chest moving with deep rapid breaths.

They both stood like that, Ada finding his weight on top of her pleasant, trying to come back to her sense, Cor just breathing heavy, his whole body limp and tired.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled as he rolled on the floor next to her, his pants still around his knees.

“What for?” She moved her hand to his chest and lazily started caressing his wet skin.

“If I hurt you, I didn’t mean to.” He pushed himself up and rolled on his side, his eyes staring at hers.

“I do recall asking you to go harder…” Ada smiled and touched his face with the back of her hand. He was so rough and handsome.

“You did?” he seemed puzzled but accepted it. He reached over her to the bed and pulled down the blanket covering both of them. “I was thinking, the Leville has an apartment on the top floor. Why don’t we move there? I need to open the hotel for common use anyway since we are having so many refugees.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Ada could feel her heart beating so fast it felt like trying to break her ribs.

“I am.” he kissed her cheek gently. “We already established we love each other, under terrible circumstances, I guess we can do that one thing right.”

Ada looked around her apartment or more like her room, she had no attachment to this place and the only memories she had associated with it were the occasional night spent with Cor. Somehow, she felt that leaving this dark place would also mean leaving her loneliness and that seemed scary, but not terrifying. Even better, she was happy. She nodded in agreement and he pulled her closer to himself.

“That place needs a new door anyway.” They both laugh as he said that.