#say what you like but if one of my speeches ever got a reception like this id immediatley see the writing on the wall

[tweedfrog]

Pompey's men in book II after he treats them to a 69 verse speech abt the justice of his cause and they respond with awkward silence:

[firewasabeast]

You're a Piece of My Soul I Can't Let Go

10.5k; read below or on ao3; tags: presumed dead (no actual major character death), angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, panic, flashbacks, smut, witness protection, secret service

Buck didn't cry at the funeral.

It's not that he wasn't sad. He was heartbroken beyond repair.

The tears simply wouldn't fall.

He didn't show much emotional at all. Didn't listen to the speeches people gave. Didn't react when someone would give him a hug or a pat on the back. Didn't care about the words of encouragement by people who had no clue what it felt like to lose someone.

“Time will heal.”

“He's an angel now.”

“God needed him more.”

“Life goes on.”

“Hold yourself together for him.”

It was all bullshit.

The burial wasn't much different. He sat, unmoving, from his chair in the front row. Held out his hands when he presented with the folded flag. Heard the sniffs and cries from the people around him, but he remained stoic.

Nothing about this felt right.

There was a reception afterward at Bobby and Athena's place. Buck, wanting nothing to do with the limo that was reserved for family, had driven his Jeep to the cemetery.

He told Bobby he'd meet them at their place. Let Bobby wrap him in another hug before he left.

He didn't go to Bobby's.

Didn't want to talk to all those people. He had no desire to hear them laugh as they told stories about Tommy. They'd never know him like he did.

He went home instead. Back to the place he and Tommy shared.

It was Tommy's house, originally. Then Buck had moved in only five months into them dating. It seemed crazy at the time, but it worked. They were engaged two months later, married six months after that.

Four months of marriage. That's all they'd gotten. The ring around Buck's finger still felt new, and it was already over.

Seventeen months total. The best seventeen months of Buck's life.

And it was all gone.

Buck walked into the house that screamed Tommy, Tommy, Tommy everywhere he looked. There was the couch they had picked out together. The lamp that Tommy had knocked off the table twice, yet somehow never broke. The kitchen where they realized they were far too old to be having sex on a countertop. The clock on the wall that played obnoxious music every hour that Buck hated but Tommy loved, so it was only ever on if Buck had to work and Tommy was at home.

His houseplants he killed regularly.

The TV they splurged on because Tommy both loved watching movies and loved watching Buck watch movies.

The bedroom, two nightstands. One side almost empty because all Buck needed was a lamp and a spot for his phone at night. The other side with a lamp, charger, reading glasses, chapstick, and a glass of water that now had a thin film of dust covering the top.

Buck toed off his shoes and walked to the bed, lying down. He pulled his phone from his pocket and silenced it before setting it on his nightstand. He didn't want to be bothered. Maddie could see his location, would know he was fine. That was enough.

He curled onto his side, facing Tommy's side of the bed. He tugged at Tommy's pillow, moving it so it rested lengthwise against his body. He snuggled it tightly. Closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Tommy's shampoo and cologne, still fresh on the pillowcase.

He fell into a dreamless sleep.

Nothing about this felt right.

“What's the matter?” Tommy asked immediately upon entering the kitchen. Buck had his eyebrows drawn tightly together as he stared at a can of coconut milk. That was never a good sign.

“I got the wrong thing,” Buck pouted. “I was supposed to get coconut cream and I picked up the milk.”

“I'm guessing they're not interchangeable?”

Buck gave him a look that asked the question, “Are you crazy?” without saying a word.

“Right.” Tommy began searching the room for his keys, “I will go get you your coconut cream.”

“No, I can get it,” Buck put the can down and headed for the stove. “I'll let Bobby know dinner will be a little late,” he said, switching off a couple of the burners, “and then-”

Buck was cut off by Tommy wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You keep cooking,” he insisted, “I'll get the cream.”

Buck smiled softly, leaning further into Tommy's touch. “You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Buck turned his head for a kiss on the lips before Tommy unraveled himself from him.

“Keys?” Tommy asked.

“Coffee table.”

“Right! Thank you. Love you, Babe. Be right back.”

“Love you too.”

Three days was all the bereavement pay a city employee was allotted after the death of a family member. Bobby had managed to space out Buck's shifts enough to give him seven days before he had to dip into his vacation time.

It didn't matter anyway. He hadn't used his vacation days in a long time. Had been saving them for a long roadtrip with...

It didn't matter. He didn't need those vacation days anymore.

A part of him had thought about going back to work. He had gotten dressed and everything. Had his keys and was headed out the door. He couldn't seem to make it past the doorframe.

He typed a simple text to Bobby, taking vacation day, silenced his phone and got back into bed. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, bed, bathroom, kitchen, the same path for the next week.

People would come to the door, knock and knock and knock, but he made no effort to let them in.

When they'd text, he'd respond so they knew he was alive, but also knew to leave him alone.

I need some time, he'd text them, please let me have time to myself.

That worked for a while, until Eddie decided to screw it all and use the spare key he had to let himself in.

“Buck?” he called out as he gently opened the front door. “Buck, you here?”

He walked into the dark house, all the curtains drawn and not a single light on. After peeking into the kitchen and living room, he made his way to the bedroom. The door was cracked, so he nudged it open until he could see Buck lying on the bed, facing away from the door.

He was under the covers, cuddling a pillow close to him.

“Buck?” Eddie whispered.

He waited a few seconds and was just about to head out to the living room until Buck woke up, when he heard a, “Hm?”

“You awake?”

“I'm not a sleep talker,” Buck muttered grumpily. He turned just enough to look at Eddie. “Why're you here?”

“To check on you.”

Buck folded himself back over the pillow, closing his eyes. “Told you I'm fine.”

“Yeah... don't really believe you, bud.” Eddie walked over to the other side of the bed so he could face Buck. Sunlight peeked through the curtains enough for Eddie to see that, surprisingly, Buck didn't look like he'd been crying.

He just looked tired. Staying in bed for two weeks could do that to a person.

“Come on, Buck,” Eddie said, “let's go out to the living room. Get you something to eat.”

“Already ate,” Buck mumbled into the pillow.

“When?”

Buck sighed. “What time is it?”

“Three o'clock in the afternoon.”

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Reluctantly, Buck sat up in bed, sending a glare to Eddie. “I ate at one.”

Eddie crossed his arms. “On what day?”

God, Buck hated when he got all parental with him. Made him feel like a child. “Wednesday.”

“Up,” Eddie demanded, snapping his fingers. “Now.”

Buck was too tired to fight him. He knew the quicker he went along, ate whatever Eddie wanted him to eat, talked about whatever Eddie wanted him to talk about, he could get him out of his house.

He pulled the covers off of him and got out of bed, scooting his feet as he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

Eddie couldn't help but noticed how much weight Buck had lost over the last couple of weeks. It made him feel awful for waiting so long to force himself into Buck's home. He was trying to be respectful. Trying to give Buck the space he kept requesting. He'd get those texts from Buck every time he knocked on the door, and he'd leave because he was asked to. That's what they'd all been doing. He knew now that was a mistake.

“I don't wanna eat much,” Buck said, staring straight ahead at the TV.

“I already ordered some wonton soup from China Wok. It'll be here in a minute.” Eddie sat on the other end of the couch. “Talk to me, Buck. Please.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

Buck's eyes scanned the living room. Dead flowers were scattered around, all sent somewhere between the day after Tommy's body was found up until a few days ago. Buck had managed to bring them into the house, just so no one called in a wellness check on him, but he didn't bother with keeping them alive.

What was the point? They'd die eventually anyway.

“I haven't dreamt since he... since they... you know.”

Eddie was thrown off guard by the admission, expecting it to be harder for Buck to confide in him. “None at all?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Used to. Used to have a lot of dreams. Not anymore.”

“Buck, I know what it's like to-”

“Don't,” Buck interrupted, looking at Eddie for the first time since they sat down. “Please, I- I've gotten so many 'I know what you're going through' texts from people and it doesn't help.”

Eddie nodded. “I understand.”

Buck turned his attention down to his hands, thumbs twiddling together nervously. “Can I- Can I tell you something really dumb?”

“Sure!” Eddie exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I love hearing dumb things.”

Buck managed a small smile. It faded faster than it had appeared. “I- Sometimes it doesn't feel, um, feel real to me. Like, I don't believe he's gone. That, um, that feeling that you get when someone has- when they've died. I- I don't have that.”

“Accepting it's happened is one of the hardest things to do, Buck. That's normal.”

“I haven't even cried,” Buck admitted. “Not since the day I was told he... he was gone.”

“That's normal too.”

Eddie didn't understand. Buck knew he wouldn't. “I don't know,” he breathed out, more to himself than to Eddie.

“Don't know what?”

The doorbell rang, pulling them out of their discussion. Buck was grateful. He didn't feel like talking anymore.

“Ready to eat?” Eddie asked, clapping his hands together as he got up and headed for the door.

“Mhm,” Buck lied. He leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He just needed to get through this meal, then Eddie would leave, and he could go back to bed.

He needed to get back to bed.

“It doesn't make any sense to me. At all.”

“You're not letting this go anytime soon, are you?”

“They didn't end up together in the end, Evan! Why'd they even say the movie was a romantic comedy? What's the point?”

Buck reached over and took Tommy's hand from where it rested on the center console. “I think they did it on purpose,” he surmised, “to spite you.”

“I agree, those bastards.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Buck gave Tommy's hand a squeeze, “they are fictional, so you know, they didn't really mind that they weren't together in the end.”

“Hm.” Tommy thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that doesn't make me feel any better at all.”

Buck shrugged. “I tried.”

“They had everything planned, Evan,” Tommy said, continuing his rant. “They had their whole future planned and they threw it all away in the end? Ugh, I can't.”

“Maybe it was to show that she found herself, you know, without him. That's not a bad thing.”

“It's not a bad thing at all, if I'm properly warned that that's what the movie is going to be about. It is a bad thing when you call the movie a romantic comedy.”

“Is there someone we should be writing a strongly worded letter to?” Buck asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

Tommy shot a meaningless glare in his direction. “You joke now, but I wasn't the only one crying in the theater.”

“Who said I was joking?” Buck asked. “I- I love a strongly worded letter. We can whip out some paper and a pen the second we get home.”

Buck could feel Tommy's body start to relax. His face softened as he stole another glance at Buck before turning back to the road. “I love that you're my husband.”

Buck brought Tommy's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I love that you're mine.”

Buck stared down at his wedding band. It had been a month now. A month since he'd last seen Tommy. A month and five days since their last date.

“Buck... Buck?”

Buck looked up to Hen watching him from across the truck. They were on their way to a call. Some small fire in the middle of nowhere with no people around. It'd be an easy call. Buck was grateful for that. This would be his fourth shift back at work, although it was his first full 24-hour one.

“Yeah?” he asked, ignoring the fact that Chimney and Eddie were giving him side glances as well.

“You good?”

He'd be angry at the question if anyone else had asked. He knew his temper was shorter than it ever used to be. Knew even the smallest things could set him off. He often had to force himself to stay calm. Take some deep breaths and count to ten before responding to someone.

He didn't have to do that with Hen though. Her voice was soothing to him. A calm against the stormy sea that was his mind.

Buck nodded. “I'm good.”

“You want in?”

He paused, dumbfounded. He had no idea what she was talking about. “In on what?”

“We're placing bets on what caused the fire,” Chimney explained. “I said kids smoking in the woods.”

“I'm going with the sun beating down on a glass bottle.” Eddie looked proud of his choice.

“Old fashioned illegal campfire for me.” Hen smiled softly at Buck. “You?”

“Oh, um, nah. I- I'm good.”

“Oh come on,” Eddie reached over and nudged Buck's knee. “Take a guess.”

Buck took a deep breath. Thought for a moment. “Fireworks, I- yeah. Fireworks.”

“In the middle of the day?” Chimney questioned.

Hen shrugged. “Wouldn't be the first time. Okay, Cap,” she said, fiddling with her headset, “what about you?”

Buck phased back out as Bobby made his guess. He tugged at his ring, twirling it around and around on his finger. He thought about the inscription on the inside. One Four Three. Had to force himself out of that memory before he could even start to get into it.

It all felt like too much. Too overwhelming. He needed to get himself together.

He sat up straight and cleared his throat.

He could do this. He could get through this shift. Get home. Get into bed. Stay there for forty-eight hours before he'd have to pretend again.

...He didn't even care that he won the bet.

“I've tried calling him like five times,” Buck said. He was sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing nervously up and down, Bobby and Athena sitting across from him. “I- I'm sorry about dinner, guys-”

“Don't even think about it,” Athena interrupted. “Bobby, you having any luck?”

Bobby shook his head. “I've texted him a few times but they're not going through.”

“Something's wrong. He wouldn't... Something's wrong. His location isn't on anymore either.”

“Okay.” Athena pulled out her phone. “Where did you say he was going?”

“Ralph's. He was just getting me some coconut cream for my recipe. I- I said I'd go but he insisted. That was over two hours ago. I, um, I should drive there and check.” He went to get up but Athena held out a hand to stop him.

“I'll go,” she said. “You and Bobby stay. Let me know if he shows up. I've got my badge and everything out in the car, so I can ask around at the store if I can't find him. His phone probably died and they were out of the right stuff at Ralph's, so he went somewhere else.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe,” Buck replied, but he could see the look Athena gave Bobby out of the corner of his eye.

He knew nothing in his life was ever that simple.

He stumbled upon the video by accident. He was looking for a picture of a recipe that Maddie had asked for when his finger hit the wrong thumbnail and the video began to play.

It was one he took without Tommy knowing. A rare rainy day in Los Angeles gave them the opportunity to relax at home instead of run errands or make plans.

Buck was splayed out on the couch, head on the armrest and his legs on Tommy's lap. Tommy had a crossword over Buck's legs, staring at it with an intensity usually reserved for flying into dangerous situations.

“If twenty-one across is evergreen, then eighteen down can't be carpet.”

“I thought you said eighteen down had to be carpet?” Buck asked off camera.

“It does, Evan,” Tommy placed the pen between his teeth. “It really does.”

“Then evergreen is wrong.”

Tommy shook his head. “Nope. It's gotta be evergreen.”

“We've been going over this for almost an hour now, Tommy,” Buck said, huffing out a laugh. “Give it up.”

“I've never been this close to finishing a Sunday crossword!” Tommy whined, the smile on his face betraying the seriousness of his voice. “If I give up now, I'll never forgive myself.”

“If you give up now I'll let you blow me as a consolation prize,” Buck offered cheekily.

Tommy gasped, glancing at Buck with a look of betrayal. “Sabotage!” he exclaimed. “I have to finish this, babe, or my name isn't Thomas Andrew Kinard!”

“Your name isn't Thomas Andrew Kinard,” Buck replied, the video shaking with his laughter. “It's Buckley-Kinard.”

Tommy froze. He clicked his pen closed and tossed it, along with the paper, on the coffee table. He turned to Evan, his eyes darkening, “About that consolation prize?”

Buck found himself smiling as the video ended. He'd taken it only three weeks after their wedding. The video wasn't even old, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, the living room felt cold. Buck's spot on the couch now uncomfortable. The silence a stark contrast to all the life in that memory. For two months now he'd had nothing but silence in his home, besides the far too occasional visits from his friends and family. It wasn't the same though. It wasn't the same as having Tommy.

The smile on Buck's face faded. He got up and headed to the bedroom to lie down.

Maddie would have to get that recipe another day.

“We're all set to clear out here,” Bobby said over the radio. “Great work everyone.”

The call had been a big one. A four alarm fire that required the assistance of multiple stations.

“This is Firefighter Pilot Kinard of Harbor Station for Firefighter Buckley of 118, over,” Tommy's voice came over the radio. He had been providing assistance from the chopper, now hovering above them as he set to head back.

Buck glanced around at the rest of the 118, all stopping what they were doing to watch him and listen in. “Go for Buckley.”

“Looking for confirmation on a code one-four-three.”

“One-four-three confirmed and returned.”

“Excellent. Returning to Harbor Station.”

“What the hell is a one-four-three?” Chimney asked once the sounds from the chopper were off in the distance.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “It's their way of saying 'I love you' after a big call.”

Buck smiled. “We usually text it to each other,” he explained, a blush rising on his cheeks, “just to let the other know we're alright. Guess he couldn't get to his phone.”

Hen put a hand to her stomach. “That's so preciously sickening I might throw up.”

“Okay, okay, come on guys,” Bobby said, waving the group toward the truck, “give Buck a break-”

“Thank you, Cap.”

“-for now. We can make fun of him on the way back to the station.”

“Hey!”

It was the longest, most grueling shift Buck had had since he could remember. He had only managed a couple hours of sleep, and that was often in fifteen minute increments. The worst part was the majority of calls were from people being stupid. Accidents that could have been prevented had a single person with half a brain been anywhere around.

All Buck wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Which is why he was not so pleasantly surprised when he pulled up to Maddie's car in his driveway.

She greeted him at the door with a hug, and he faked a smile as he hugged back. “Why're you here?” he asked, trying to sound polite.

“Well, you've been working so hard lately, I figured I'd come over and help with the housecleaning.”

“Oh, uh, um, thanks.” The overwhelming smell of cleaning supplies made him feel a bit lightheaded as he walked further into the house, dropping his duffel on the dining room table. “It looks great in here.”

That wasn't a lie. She had made the place spotless. He wasn't a messy person himself but he couldn't deny he'd let certain things, like mopping and dusting, go over the past few months.

“It's the least I could do,” she replied. “I won't stay long, Howie texted me about how busy you guys were. Needed an excuse to see you though. It's... It's been a while.”

Two and a half weeks, to be exact. No fault of Maddie's either. She'd make plans with him, and he'd cancel last minute.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I've been, uh, trying to get things back in order. I'm just- I'm still kind of...”

“It's okay,” she assured him. “Really. I understand.”

“Let me, um, let me go put my jacket up,” he said, tugging at it, “and we'll talk for a little bit before you go.” He didn't want to. No desire for small talk, or talk of any kind, but he couldn't kick her out of the house after all she'd done for him.

She smiled. “Okay. That sounds good.”

He headed to his bedroom, but stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the doorway.

“Did you... Did you wash my sheets?”

“I did,” Maddie replied, coming up behind him. Her voice was far too nonchalant for the blinding rage that was slowly seeping up inside him.

“All of them? Like, the pillowcases too?”

“Uh, yeah? Why would I only wash some of your sheets, Buck?”

Buck hurried over to the far side of the bed, throwing the comforter and sheets back to get to Tommy's pillow.

He didn't care if he looked like a crazy person. He brought the pillow up to his face and took a deep breath in.

It smelled like Gain.

It made him want to throw up.

“Buck, what's wrong?” She was clearly worried, standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

“I didn't ask you to do this, Maddie,” he said angrily, tossing the pillow back on the bed. “I- I didn't ask you to do any of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to help. Buck, I'm sorry if I-”

“I need you to leave.”

“Buck-”

“Leave!”

She stood firmly in place. “I'm not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong.”

“I- I, everyone keeps trying to help me,” he huffed, “and I don't want it! I don't want Eddie coming over for dinner! I don't want Hen taking me out for drinks! I don't want Chimney taking me to a movie! I don't want Bobby texting me every damn day! And I don't want you to be my maid!”

“We're just trying to help you, Evan-”

“Don't call me that!” He spewed.

He was breathing heavily. The stinging in his eyes surprised him. It'd been so long since he had last cried. He didn't particularly feel like crying right now, but apparently his body did. He groaned, sitting down on Tommy's side of the bed and staring out the window. He brought Tommy's pillow to his chest, and began to sob.

Maddie was by his side in seconds, wrapping her arms around him and enveloping him in a hug. 'I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry.” She was crying too. Buck could feel her tears wetting his shirt. He wasn't even sure why she was apologizing. She didn't have anything to be sorry for. If anything, he should be apologizing for snapping at her so harshly.

If he could speak, he would have told her as much. Would have told her that his head was a jumbled mess that he couldn't seem to clear. That nothing about this felt real. That he felt like Tommy was still there, somewhere, with them.

That it'd been four months since he'd had a dream. How he missed dreaming. They were always so vivid, him and Tommy, living their lives together.

Now, there was just darkness. An endless abyss of black every time he closed his eyes.

He'd tell her how his memories haunted him. The dreams may not exist, but the memories would appear out of nowhere at the worst times. They'd plague him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape them.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he was able to find his voice. Before he was able to bring himself out of Maddie's embrace. He kept a tight hold on the pillow, fingers messing with a pulled thread at the edge. “It s- smelled like him,” he said, his lip still trembling. “I'd... I'd wash everything else but, um, I- I couldn't wash this.”

“Oh, Buck, I'm so sorry. I didn't-”

“I know. It's okay. I- I know you were trying to help. It's okay.”

“Do you still have some of his cologne?”

Buck nodded and Maddie got up to go into the bathroom.

“Where?” she asked.

“Far sink, open the cabinet, black bottle.”

She returned a few seconds later with a bottle in hand, held out for Buck to see. “This one?”

“Mhm.”

“Want me to spray it?”

He laid the pillow out flat and Maddie sprayed it a couple of times.

“I really miss him, Maddie,” Buck admitted quietly, inhaling the scent of his cologne as it passed through the air.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

“Bobby, it's been twenty-four hours of nothing. I'm freaking out.”

Bobby hadn't left Buck since he'd arrived the day before. Athena had worked all night putting out alerts for Tommy and his vehicle, but hadn't gotten anywhere.

He and Buck had left two different times to go driving around. The rest of the 118 had gone searching as well, going to places he frequented, driving down any and every back road they could find.

Nothing.

Now, back at the house to rest for a minute, and make sure Tommy hadn't come back home, Buck was in a full blown panic.

“I know, Buck, but we're all doing everything we can,” Bobby replied, leading Buck to the couch. “Athena's got officers searching the whole city for his car. He'll be found.”

“But what if-”

“No,” Bobby sat on the edge of the coffee table so he could face Buck, “you're not gonna think like that, Buck.”

“Bobby,” his voice was pleading and his eyes red. “You know s- something's wrong. H- He wouldn't do this. You know that.”

Bobby sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he could even say, when the doorbell rang.

Buck's heart started pounding right away. Athena wouldn't ring the doorbell. She'd knock. So would anyone from the 118, except Eddie. Eddie would come right on in.

He was shaking as he got up and walked to the door, Bobby close behind him.

“Detective John Farrow,” a man introduced the second Buck opened the door. “Are you Evan Buckley-Kinard?”

Buck nodded. “I- Yes. I- I am.”

“Mr. Buckley-Kinard, I'm sorry to inform you...”

The sound of the detective's voice was replaced by a ringing in Buck's ears. He felt dizzy. His vision blurred. The last thing he remembered was Bobby catching him as he fell.

Agreeing to lunch at Maddie's with his parents was a mistake. He knew that from the moment he said yes. He'd been working on controlling his temper. Not overreacting at the small things.

There was still more work to be done.

“So,” Margaret began, everyone settled at the table. Maddie looked up to see her eyes on Buck. The look Margaret was giving him already made her want to scream. “There's really no easy way to say this, Evan-”

“Then maybe you shouldn't say it,” Maddie suggested. Chimney placed a hand on her back, rubbing gently to try and ease the tension.

Buck remained quiet, eyes directed toward his mother with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I'm simply asking,” Margaret continued, “if you've, you know, gotten back out there any?”

“Margaret,” Phillip warned under his breath. Maddie knew that if their dad wasn't even on their mom's side, this was never going to end civilly.

Maddie swore Buck's eyes went dark. “Buck-” Maddie started, but he cut her off.

“You're not seriously asking me if I'm dating six months after my husband died, are you, Mom?”

“Not dating, but getting back out into the world. I- I've heard so much about you staying holed up in your house, only leaving to go to work, and that worries me, Evan.”

“Stop calling me, Evan,” Buck demanded.

Margaret raised her hands in surrender. “I'm sorry,” she said, and she meant it. The name sometimes slipped out without her realizing it. She had been warned that the name triggered Buck in a way it never had before. Even though others had used it on occasion before, Evan had become Tommy's name for him. And with him gone, Buck didn't want to hear it from anyone. “I'm sorry, Buck. I just don't want to see you wasting away. It's hard for a mother to see her child suffer like this.”

“Were you over Daniel's death in six months?” Buck asked bitterly. “Were you back out there? Cause I seem to remember it being about thirty years before you even mentioned his name. And you only did that once Maddie told me about him.”

Tears filled Maddie's eyes. “Buck,” she spoke softly. She desperately wanted this conversation to end.

“That's not fair, Buck,” Margaret answered, her voice shaking. “Daniel was my child.”

“And Tommy was my husband!” Buck slammed his napkin on the table, rising to his feet. “We had planned a future together! We were saving up for a house, we were planning on having kids, we talked about what we'd do when we retired! Hell, we planned weekly grocery shopping trips together! All these things got ripped out from under me, and I'm supposed to just get back out there? Are you crazy?”

“Hey,” Phillip stood across from him, “that's too far. Your mother wasn't trying to be malicious.”

Buck shook his head, then began to head for the door. “This was a mistake. I- I'm gonna go.”

“Buck, wait-” Maddie went to get up, but Chimney placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me,” he said, walking out after Buck.

“Wait a minute, Buck!” Chimney jogged a few steps to catch up to him.

Buck stopped at his Jeep, hand on the door handle. “I'm not going back in.”

“Wasn't gonna ask you to. Just want to make sure you're okay.”

Buck let out a humorless laugh, turning back to Chimney. “Well, apparently I only stay holed up in my house except to go to work, so you tell me if I'm okay.”

“Maddie didn't say it like that to them, Buck, please don't be mad at her. She's worried about you. We all are.”

Buck scoffed. “Just leave me alone for tonight,” he said, getting into his Jeep. “I'll see you at work on Friday.”

“He flashed the ring three times today,” Eddie said, scooting back into the bench. After work they'd all met Tommy at the bar for a few drinks before heading home.

“Four,” Hen corrected.

“Nope.” Chimney took a sip of his beer. “Five.”

Tommy grinned at Buck. “Really? Five times? Can't say I blame them, I do have a hot fiancé.”

“Oh, my guy was not flirting,” Chimney stated. “Buck asked him if he liked the way the ring shimmered in the sunlight.”

“Mhm,” Hen agreed. “My girl wasn't flirting either. Buck noticed she had an ultrasonic ring cleaner in her bathroom and asked if she was happy with her purchase because, and I quote, 'I just got engaged and I want to make sure my ring stays perfect forever.'”

“Okay, guys,” Buck said with a groan, “we get it. I'm lame.”

“I don't think it's lame.” Tommy rested his hand on Buck's knee. “I think it's adorable. I love that you're excited to get married.”

A blush rose on Buck's cheeks. “I am excited,” he agreed, leaning in for a kiss. “Very excited.”

“Before this gets pg-13,” Eddie interrupted, “the two men I had were definitely flirting, but they both got the hint after the first 'fiancé' was thrown out there. Buck threw in two more for good measure. The other person- not flirting.”

“What about you?” Hen asked Tommy. “Did you get any offers you had to turn down today?”

“Well, I was thousands of feet in the air for both of the calls I went on, so any prospects would have had to look at me through some really good binoculars and then steal a radio to tell me they were into me, so no. No offers.”

“The guy in the bathroom definitely flirted with you like ten minutes ago, Dude,” Eddie said with a laugh.

“What?” Tommy asked incredulously. “No he didn't.”

“He for sure did. Man was jacked and he was asking for your workout routine.”

“He said he wanted to switch things up!” Tommy exclaimed.

Eddie snorted. “Oh, he definitely wanted to switch things up.”

“What? Who is this man?” Buck eyes darted around the bar. “Where is he?”

“Don't worry about it Buck,” Eddie reassured him. “Tommy didn't even realize it. Gave the guy a five minute rundown of how he gets the perfect squat. Your man only has eyes for you.”

Buck settled back into his seat, leaning into Tommy's side as Tommy pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his temple. “That's true,” he whispered into Buck's ear.

Buck rested his head on Tommy's shoulder, ignoring the teasing gag sounds that came from the others around them.

If it were possible, he'd stay like this forever.

He should have expected this.

It should have happened sooner, if he were being honest.

He was lucky to go seven months without a call that hit too close to home.

There had been a hit and run. The car that was hit had flipped twice, landed right side up, and immediately burst into flames.

The man in the driver's seat never stood a chance.

Buck was okay while they hurried to get out the flames. He'd ignored the glances from the rest of the team, ignored Bobby's suggestion to stay by the engine, ignored the thoughts in the back of his head telling him to sit this one out.

It wasn't until the fire was out and he saw the man's body, burnt so severely he looked more like a halloween decoration than a human, that Buck lost it.

No matter how much he wanted to look away, his eyes were fixed on the body. His heart rate was speeding up quickly, each breath short and sharp and painful.

He hadn't even realized that tears were falling down his face. Or that he was letting out little noises similar to a dog's whine. He had his helmet in his hand, shaking so much it was vibrating against his leg.

Buck didn't even notice the bystanders watching him, some of them whispering, others pulling out their phones.

It felt like hours, but Bobby was in front of him within seconds. “We're gonna walk away, Buck,” he said calmly but firmly, planting a hand on his shoulder. “We're gonna walk away and go sit behind the engine. Come on.”

Buck let Bobby guide him to a quite spot behind the fire truck, sitting on the curb. Bobby took his helmet from him and tossed it somewhere, then sat down beside him.

“I'm sorry,” Buck breathed out, wiping over his face with his hand.

“You don't ever have to apologize for being human, Buck.”

“I don't know how to do this,” he confessed through sobs. “I don't- I don't know how to keep g- going.”

“The path through grief isn't linear,” Bobby explained. “Hell, it's not really much of a path you get through at all. More like a loop.”

“So this is... This is m- my forever?” He asked, voice rising in despair.

“No. Not exactly. You do learn how to manage it better over time, but it takes time, Buck. And it takes letting the people around you help you, instead of pushing them away.”

“I don't mean to,” Buck said as he began to calm down. “It just takes so much energy. Everything is exhausting. Talking to people is- is so exhausting.”

“I know. Buck, you've seen grief. It's been around you since you were a baby. I'm not saying there's any right or wrong way to grieve, but I think you know how dangerous it is to lose yourself in it.” Bobby put his arm around him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “No one expects you to be exactly who you were before you lost Tommy. I'll never be the same person I was, Eddie won't be the same person he was, Chimney won't be who he was before losing his brother, I could go on and on. But we- I need you to realize you're still here, you're still breathing, and Tommy wouldn't want you to disappear.”

Buck nodded, a new wave of tears taking over him.

Bobby pulled him close and let him cry.

“How many kids do you want?”

Buck and Tommy were sat on the front porch steps watching the sunset behind the trees across the street.

“Uh,” Tommy paused, caught off guard. “I don't know. Haven't really thought about it.”

Buck shrugged. “We've talked about wanting kids, but we've never talked about how many we want.”

“Hm. Two sounds nice. Kinda close together so they can grow up with each other. You?”

“Two's good,” he agreed. “But we'd need a bigger house.”

“Oh, for sure. This one barely fits the two of us.”

“And I'd like for us to be married a while first. Settled, you know?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “You proposing?”

“Ha! Like this? No.” Buck took Tommy's hand in his and they settled into a comfortable silence. After a couple minutes, Buck squeezed Tommy's hand to get his attention. “I have, um, I've been thinking about it though. Um, about proposing,” he said, staring deep into Tommy's eyes to see what kind of response he'd get. When Tommy appeared surprised, Buck panicked a bit. “Is that, um, is- is that weird? To be thinking about it so soon?”

“What? Oh, God, no, Evan. I,” he laughed, “I've actually been thinking about it too. For a while now.”

Buck looked as shocked as the night Tommy first kissed him. “Really?”

“Really. I've been googling rings, looking for the perfect one. Kept trying to talk myself out of it because I wasn't sure if you'd think it was too fast but-”

Tommy's words were cut off by Buck's mouth on his, so forceful it nearly toppled them both over.

“Oh! Mmm,” Tommy moaned into the kiss, resting his hand at the base of Buck's neck.

“Yes,” Buck said, dazed as he pulled back far enough to speak.

“What?”

“Yes.”

“Bu- Evan, I didn't ask yet. Not the- I don't have a ring.”

“I don't care, Tommy. Yes. I'm saying yes. Yes?”

It took Tommy's mouth a second to catch up with his brain, but once it did he was nodding, his eyes filling with tears. “Yes. Of course, yes,” he replied, both of them laughing giddily before crashing their lips back together.

Everyone except for Hen was upstairs relaxing between calls. Bobby and Buck were at the table, planning out next week's meals. Eddie was fixing himself a cup of coffee. Chimney was on the couch, reading a book.

“We're all going out for beers after our shift,” Eddie said, glancing at Buck. “You in?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah, I'm in.”

He'd been trying lately. Trying to do things other than work and sleep. He'd gone to the zoo with Jee a couple times over the past month. He'd gone to Bobby's for dinner. Watched a game at Eddie's place. Met Maddie and Chimney for brunch. He'd even gone over to Hen's one night when she was home alone and they'd gotten hammered while discussing their various traumas.

Every one of these occasions had ended with him in his car, or a cab, sobbing uncontrollably.

But he was trying.

Hen walked up the stairs, a worried expression on her face. “What's up with you?” Chimney asked, first to notice.

“Uh... Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“There's a... a secret service agent here for you.”

All eyes were on her now.

A... a what?”

Before Hen could get in another word, a man in a suit walked up behind her.

Buck stood, recognizing the man right away. It was the same man who had come to his door to let him know about Tommy. His heart sunk. How could this possibly get worse?

“Detective Farrow?”

“Mr. Buckley-Kinard,” he greeted. “It's actually Special Agent Farrow, but you can all me John.”

“I- I don't-”

“I know this is a bit odd,” he continued, “and was not something I actually wanted to do. I was going to hold off until you were home, but he refused to wait another minute.”

“I- what are you talking about? Who?”

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs interrupted whatever John was about to reply.

Suddenly there was a very familiar, very alive Tommy standing in front of them, smiling brightly at the sight of Buck. “Hi, Evan.”

“Holy shit.” The words escaped Chimney's mouth without him realizing.

Hen followed right after with an, “Oh my God.”

Eddie felt his coffee cup slip from his hand and shatter against the countertop. No one even noticed.

Bobby was standing right beside Buck, thankfully, because he had to quickly reach out and grab onto him before he fell to the ground. He managed to whip a chair around and get Buck seated as he stared, mouth agape, at his husband.

His alive husband.

His breathing husband.

His not-buried-in-the-cemetery husband.

“Evan,” Tommy stepped forward, but Buck held his arm out to stop him.

“What the hell is going on?”

Tommy was confused. Buck sounded angry, and scared. He looked around at all the other faces staring back at him. “Why... Why do you all look like you've seen a ghost?” he asked.

Chimney walked up to Tommy, poking him on the shoulder. “Because you're dead. At least, you're supposed to be.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “I'm what?” He turned to John. “Why would they think that?”

John cleared his throat, eyes gazing downward. “There's a lot we need to discuss, Mr. Buckley-Kinard.”

“Why would they think I was dead?” Tommy repeated, angry now.

“Because that's what we were told,” Hen answered.

Tommy stepped closer to John. “You told them I was dead?”

“We couldn't risk anyone knowing-”

“You told my husband I was dead?!”

“-that you were alive. It would have put everyone-”

“And you lied to me to keep me there?!”

“-in danger. It was easier this way.”

“That was not the deal!”

“Everyone shut up!” Buck's voice rang out over the station. He got out of his seat, Bobby keeping a hand near his back until he was sure Buck was steady.

Buck cautiously moved toward Tommy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You- You're really here?”

All of the anger Tommy had for John fell away as he looked into Buck's eyes. He nodded. “I'm here. I'm so sorry, Buck, I didn't-”

Buck shook his head, “I- I don't care right now.” He brought a hand up to Tommy's chest. Felt the thump-thump-thump of his heart. The firmness of his chest. He felt up until he reached Tommy's collarbone, poking ever so slightly out from his shirt. Felt the warmth of his skin. The slight dip that led up to his neck that Buck always loved to linger on when they were alone in bed. He felt the roughness of a two day old beard as he felt up his neck and toward his jawbone. “My God.” The words were hushed, breathed out through trembling lips and red-rimmed eyes. He pressed their lips together so quickly, so urgently, that Tommy didn't even have time to register it. He moaned into the kiss, finally reaching out and wrapping his arms around Buck's waist, finding their home at the base of his back.

“Let's give them a minute,” Bobby said, gesturing for everyone to head downstairs.

“I need to brief them,” John replied, earning him a glare from everyone else in the room.

“We're giving them a minute,” Bobby demanded.

John didn't try to protest any further. He simply followed the others downstairs, allowing Buck and Tommy time to reconnect.

“I didn't know,” Tommy began, he and Buck seated on the couch. “I was never told that you thought I was dead.”

“I am so confused, Tommy, I don't... I'm not even sure if this is real, to be honest. Am I dreaming? I haven't... I haven't had a dream since you died. Is that what this is?”

Tommy shook his head. “It's not a dream, Evan.”

“Then what the hell happened?” Buck asked, going from anxious to frustrated, “Cause I'm kinda pissed.”

Tommy scooted closer to Buck, cautiously holding out his hands for Buck to take. There was hesitation, but Buck gave in.

“The night I went to the grocery store, I saw something. I, it was a murder.”

Buck's eyes widened. “A what?”

“Yeah, I know. When I was leaving the store, I went out the back way to avoid all the traffic at the main entrance. It was getting dark, and when I passed by the dumpsters out back I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I- this guy had shot another man. I got a good look at him, and he got a good look at me too, but he ran. I got out of the car, called 911, and tried to help the other guy, but he was dead.”

“I... My brain feels like it's about to explode, Tommy. I don't understand how this leads to me planning your funeral.”

Tears came to Tommy's eyes at the thought. He continued, “The police came first, and they were asking for descriptions and any information I had. Then, the FBI shows up, and the CIA, and suddenly I'm surrounded by agents from every agency that goes by initials. This guy, whoever I saw, was apparently a hitman. A good one. Like, ties to Russia and shit. Anyway, I'm being tossed into a van and told my life's in danger because this guy saw me.”

“This sounds like a really bad cop thriller, Tommy.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I know, believe me. But these agents are telling me that I need protection, this man has killed for less before, blah blah blah. They said he'd killed an entire family because the mom had witnessed one of his hits.”

Buck scoffed. “Apparently he's not that good if he keeps getting caught.”

“Evan,” Tommy said, eyes pleading, “they showed me crime scene pictures of what this man had done. Told me he'd do the same to you if I went home. It was... It was horrific.”

“They wouldn't even let you call me? Tell me you were okay? I was- I went through hell these past eight months.”

“They took my phone, said anything electronic was a risk. Said if I declined protection, if I went home to you, I was basically signing your death certificate. But I told them- I told them that I had to let you know something and they said to write you a letter. I wrote one every week. They said they'd deliver it to you.”

“They did not deliver any letters.”

“Yeah, I'm getting that now. Evan, I swear I had no idea they were going to tell you I was dead. No idea.” Tommy clung onto Buck's hands tighter, and Buck couldn't ignore the pang in his chest at having Tommy in front of him. Alive. With him. Beside him. Holding him.

“I believe you.” He was being honest. He did believe Tommy. He knew Tommy would do anything to keep him safe. He also knew Tommy would never agree to making Buck feel the way he had felt for the last eight months. “I am just... I am so confused right now. This all sounds so crazy and over- overwhelming, Tommy. And I really wanna punch that John guy, whoever the fuck he is. And I want-” he cleared his throat, eyes red with unshed tears. “I wanna go home, Tommy.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he leaned into Tommy. They met each other halfway, their foreheads pressed together. Buck reached up and cupped Tommy's cheeks, brushing his thumbs against the rough stubble. They closed their eyes and breathed each other in. Buck whispered, “Can we go home?”

John wanted to sit with them and go over everything before they left, but the boiling over rage from the both of them was evident, so he made a plan to speak with them the next day.

After brief hugs and hello's, along with endless apologies to everyone at the 118, Tommy and Buck left.

The ride home was oddly, but comfortably, quiet. Neither were totally sure what to say. Tommy had basically been a prisoner in a safe house for eight months until the FBI found this hitman. Buck had been living in a prison of his own, thinking the love of his life had been burned and buried.

“Home sweet home,” Buck said as they pulled into the driveway. He let go of Tommy's hand long enough for them to get out of the car.

They were interlaced once again as soon as Tommy walked around the Jeep.

Buck needed the touch. Needed to stay connected to Tommy somehow, so he didn't wake up from whatever dream he was in. If this wasn't reality, he wanted to stay wherever it was for the rest of his life.

They walked into the house slowly, Buck a step ahead of Tommy, leading the way.

Once the door was shut behind them, Tommy began looking around.

Everything was... the same. Besides a few of his houseplants being gone, but they never stood a chance in the first place.

Tommy stepped in front of Buck, gave his hand a squeeze before letting go, and continued further into the house.

Buck's body ached at the loss of Tommy's touch, but he let him go. Knew this was overwhelming for him too.

“You kept all my stuff,” Tommy noted, moving into the living room.

“Of course I did.”

“Even though you thought I was-”

“A part of me didn't believe it. I kept telling people that something felt wrong. Everyone said I was in denial; that I'd move on when I was ready.”

“God, this is so fucked up.” Tommy turned to face Buck. The space between them felt as though they might as well be a thousand miles apart. “It's okay if you're mad,” he said. “I understand.”

“I- I am mad,” Buck admitted. He moved closer to Tommy. Everything still felt so surreal. He wasn't even sure if this was actually happening right now. “I don't think I'm mad at you though. I- I'm mad at them.”

“Who?”

There were so many to choose from. “Everyone who took you away from me.”

Tommy nodded. “I'm mad at them too. They wasted eight damn months of my life. Our life.”

Buck cleared any remaining distance between them. He brought his hands to Tommy's waist slowly, dragging his hands up and down his sides, feeling the defined muscles that rested just beneath his shirt.

Tommy sunk into the touch. He watched Buck as he stared at his body. Looked over every inch of him to make sure Tommy wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Tommy brought a hand to Buck's chin, gently tilting his head up until their eyes met. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

Buck sucked in a breath. “Please.”

Tommy brought their lips together gently, both of their bodies shaking with the need to be closer. Feel more.

Buck fisted Tommy's shirt in his hands, pushed their bodies as close as they could go with how they were standing.

Tommy brought his hands to the nape of Buck's neck as the kiss deepened. Their tongues met with a moan, teeth clashing together before Buck pulled back just far enough speak against Tommy's lips. “I don't want to be mad right now,” he whispered like a secret.

Tommy kissed him again. “What do you want?” he asked.

Buck slowly raised Tommy's shirt, just enough to get his hands underneath. He scratched his fingernails down Tommy's abs, causing Tommy to suck in a sharp breath. Chills covered his body.

Buck kissed Tommy's lips, then his cheek, this nipped at his jawline until he reached his ear. “I wanna to fuck you,” he answered.

They clumsily stumbled into the bedroom, stripping themselves of their clothes before falling onto the bed. “You've been working out a lot,” Buck noted between kisses, hands roaming over Tommy's body.

Tommy pressed himself against Buck, their cocks rubbing together, eliciting a groan from them both.

“There was quite literally nothing else to do,” Tommy replied.

Their bodies moved together so perfectly. Just like always. Like they had never been apart at all.

Tommy sucked on Buck's bottom lip, listening to the stunted gasps that escaped him with every thrust.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Tommy said breathlessly. He bit at a spot on Buck's neck, Buck's hands tangling in Tommy's hair and tugging firmly.

“Tom- Tommy,” he whimpered out. “You gotta. I wanna- You gotta stop,” he managed to get out.

Tommy whined, but stopped his movements. The sound earned him a laugh from Buck. He caressed Tommy's cheek until he looked at him. “Wanna fuck you, remember? Not gonna last long if- if you keep going.”

Tommy nodded. He was seconds away from coming himself. It was easy to get lost in the feeling with Buck. Easy to lose control.

With one swift movement, Buck flipped them so he was on top. He may not have been working out as much as Tommy over the last few months, but he did have a lot of sessions with a punching bag recently, and right now he felt ready to take on the world.

Buck ran his hand over Tommy's chest, let his fingernails drag over his nipple, Tommy arching into the touch. He felt over every ab, traced Tommy's scar, moved down to his stomach. It was all so torturously slow, but so fucking wonderful.

He kissed his way down Tommy's body, stopping at his cock. He stared up at Tommy with heavy lidded eyes as he spit, letting the drool drip down from his mouth onto the head of Tommy's dick. “The first time I touched myself,” Buck said, finally taking Tommy's cock in his hand, dragging his hand up and down leisurely as Tommy's eyes fluttered shut, “after... you know.”

“Mhm.” Tommy managed to open his eyes again, trying to focus on Buck and his words instead of the warm, wet hand gliding over him.

“I had to stop. I tried to- to touch myself the way you always touched me, but I- I couldn't do it.”

“Oh God, Evan.” Tommy fucked himself into Buck's tight fist. He brought their lips together sloppily. “Wanna touch you like that again.”

Buck nodded. “You will,” he promised. “But not right now. Right now I need to be in you.”

“Please.”

Buck let go of Tommy long enough to reach into the bedside table and grab the lube. He put some on, Tommy spreading his legs as Buck reached down and slowly began inserting his finger.

“Ah,” Tommy gasped. He reached up and pulled Buck down for another kiss as Buck slowly pumped his finger in and out.

“You're so tight,” Buck panted into Tommy's mouth.

“Been a while.” Tommy began to grind down against Buck's finger, moaning loudly when it hit the perfect spot.

“Shit,” Buck whined. “You haven't... You didn't?”

“A finger or two.” Tommy planted his feet on the bed, getting better leverage to work himself up and down on Buck. “A- Another, Evan, please.”

Buck obliged, adding another finger along the first, eliciting a string of curses from Tommy.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit! It was never the same,” he added quickly, going back to the conversation. “Didn't- God, didn't feel like this. Evan, more!”

Buck silenced a moan with his mouth as he added a third finger, grinding his cock against Tommy's thigh. He knew he wasn't gonna last long. Knew Tommy wouldn't either. It didn't matter though. They had plenty of time to make up for what was lost.

“I- I'm ready. Just... I need-”

“I know.” Another kiss and Buck slipped his fingers out of Tommy. Tommy grabbed the lube from the side of the bed and tossed it in Buck's direction, getting a laugh out of him.

Soon enough, Buck had Tommy's legs on his shoulders and his cock was slowly, slowly, so fucking slowly, entering Tommy.

They stared into each others eyes, Tommy slack-jawed with tiny, breathy grunts escaping him every time Buck inched closer.

After what felt like an eternity, Buck bottomed out. He stilled, breathing heavily. “I gotta. Just. I need a second.”

“S'okay.” Tommy reached out and grabbed for Buck's hands, which were currently gripping Tommy's thighs. “S'okay,” he repeated.

A few seconds later, Buck began to move.

Slowly at first, letting Tommy get used to the feeling again. Hell, letting him get used to the feeling again.

“Ev- ah- Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“I- ah- I. I need-”

“What? What do- do you need?”

“Oh shit!" Tommy yelled as Buck snapped his hips forward. "Fuck me, Evan!”

That was all Buck needed to hear. He pushed himself up slightly, to get a better position, and began moving faster, faster, faster, harder, harder, harder. Each thrust pulled a new sound out of Tommy. Low, guttural groans.

The sound of their skin slapping together, the feeling of the sweat covering their bodies, the heat between them, the desperation over all they thought they'd lost.

It was too much.

“Evan, I- I'm gonna come.” He'd never been able to come untouched before. Always needed a hand on his cock to get there. Not this time though. He came with a sound so loud, Buck was sure the neighbors at the other end of the street could hear.

Tommy's legs dropped off of Buck's shoulders, but he quickly wrapped them around his back to make sure he didn't go anywhere.

“Tommy,” Buck gasped, each movement now with far less rhythm. “Tommy, i- is this real?”

Tommy pulled Buck closer, his fingernails digging into Buck's back. He moaned as Buck drove in deeper. “It's- I'm real,” he managed to breathe out. “I'm here, Evan.”

Buck groaned loudly, mouth pressed close to Tommy's ear, coming deep inside him. After a couple lighter, gentler thrusts, Buck stopped. He practically dropped all his body weight on top of Tommy. Tommy kept his legs wrapped tightly around him. Neither could seem to let the other go just yet.

Buck hid his head into Tommy's neck. “I missed you so much,” he whimpered out, both men trying to catch their breath. Tommy could feel the wetness of Buck's tears on his neck. “God, I- I missed you.”

Tommy brought his hands to Buck's head, carding his fingers through his hair. “I missed you every damn second of every damn day,” he replied.

After they cleaned up, Buck curled back into Tommy, intertwining their bodies at every point he could manage. Tommy wrapped Buck into his arms, and Buck laid his head on Tommy's chest. They laid in silence for a while, allowing themselves to feel and be felt for the first time in so long.

Buck was the first to break the silence, letting the words fall out like a secret admission. “John came to the house the day after you went missing. They... They said your car had been in an accident. That you, um, that it had caught on fire w- with you inside.”

Tommy's body stiffened underneath him. “Baby, if... if I'd known-”

“I know,” Buck assured him. He ran his hand up and down over Tommy's chest until he relaxed again. “I know it wasn't you.”

“I'm gonna ask John if he still has my letters,” Tommy said.

“You really wrote me letters?” Buck asked, stealing a glance up at Tommy.

“Mhm. I'm sure they all thought I was an absolute idiot, especially seeing as it was all a lie, but yeah, every week.”

Buck pressed a kiss to Tommy's pec before lying back down. “I hope they exist somewhere. I'd love to read them.”

“They were really fucking depressing. Turns out I don't handle being without you very well.”

“Oh, you should've seen me.” Buck traced circle patterns along Tommy's chest. “This was the first month I started trying. Trying to get back out and do things with people... I'm glad I don't have to try anymore.”

“That's probably something we should talk about, especially with our jobs.” He snuggled further under the covers, wrapping Buck even tighter in his arms. “Not tonight though.”

“No, not tonight,” Buck agreed.

They still had a lot to talk about. A lot of things that had to be sorted. Questions that needed answers. Issues that would need to be resolved.

But, for tonight, the only thing they needed was each other.

Each other, and the first good night's sleep for them both since the day Tommy disappeared.

That night, once sleep took over, Buck dreamt.

[huckleberrykai]

berry🤭🤭 I've been thinking a lot about newlywed husband hyuka lately:(

I can't seem to find a good way to put this thought into words but ughhhhhh husband hyuka is consuming my mind

i just realised i like never put warnings on thoughts / inbox stuff so ima start doing that 😭 minors dni! idk what happened here but husband!hyuka unlocked the breeding kink hdksals if ur not into that my apologies 🫡

oh my gODDD I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS

he's just so obsessed with you - he was when you were his girlfriend, then his fiancee, but something about you finally being married, being legally his wife... he's on a whole other level of obsession.

he buys you all of the silly newlywed items, like a robe that says 'huening' on the back and a mug that says 'wifey' and loses his mind whenever he sees you using them. he tries to be as good of a husband to you as possible, being so domestic and loving... always touching you... meaning ~

new husband hyuka who CANNOT keep his hands off of you <3

not just in a sexual way, no no. kai literally just wants to hold you from the second you're pronounced married and all of the wedding stress is over. he could care less about the reception, the party, the people although he still has a great time and taehyun makes one HELL of a best man speech. his hands are always on you~ your waist, your butt, your feet when he rubs them for you after your shoes have been hurting all day - he doesn't care as long as he's near you <3

when you get to your honeymoon destination best believe he cranks the clingy husband vibes up to the MAX. his new favourite activity is holding your hand and playing with your wedding ring ~ it grounds him and reminds him that you're married, you're all his now and he's so happy :(. he's the same about his own ring too, glancing at the shiny gold band like it's the best thing in the world, only second to you. he slept on your shoulder clutching your left hand on the plane to your dream honeymoon destination (he let you choose, he didn't care where he went as long as it would just be the two of you >.<) and the second you got to your cozy hotel room ... he was fulfilling his husband duties immediately.

it only takes him 5 minutes for him to sling your luggage and his into a corner and push you onto the rose-petal-covered bed of the honeymoon suite - complementary chocolates and champagne put aside to enjoy later. he had things to do first (you LOL). here in this beautiful room he proceeds to ravish you like his life depends on it. he eats you out until you've cum on his tongue at least twice, pushing his fingers into you - specifically his ring finger so he can admire your glossy cum glistening off his ring <3

whenever you try to reach out to help him he bats you away, "pretty wifey... just stay still okay? don't worry your pretty little head about me. i'm gonna be more than satisfied okay?"

oh and he is. especially when he initiates the most sexual loving sex you've ever had, and he finds himself filling you up over and over again. he thought you'd be done after one intense round, but when you scratched at his chest begging for one more.. then one more.. he couldn't say no. eventually, you're wailing from the overstimulation and constant orgasms - crying as you feel kai fill you up yet again. by now he's so addicted to the feeling and the sight of your pretty cunt filled to the brim with his cum, leaking out around his cock and dripping onto the crisp white sheets that he just can't stop.

"'m gonna fill you up again baby... can never get enough of you, my lovely wife~ gonna make you all round with our baby one day. fill you up so good..."

he's obsessed with living the perfect domestic life with you, and the idea of knocking you up just gets him so excited. even though you aren't ready for a family yet and you're still on birth control, kai sees no harm in getting some practice in of filling up your pretty cunt until you're crying <3

"want you to be so full of me... feel my love in your tummy~ if it leaks out tell me and i'll fill you right back up princess <3"

so yeah he's a pretty good husband LOL

[secondgenerationnerd]

regarding your asks post - something about stephcass wedding?

d'aw!! I'm waiting on my dad to send me a laptop (Its 2-3 years old and he's got like 12. Perks of a computer engineer dad) then I'll do a whole post of Sims Screenies for their wedding

First, to everyone's surprise, Steph is the one to propse. And yes, she did catch Cass off guard and made her cry (in a great way, she was so so happy)

They'd talked about getting married and kids, but no one expected Steph to propose at a Halloween event. Babs waited to ask what Steph was dressed as (Vampire bride) and Steph said "Hopefully Cass's Fiancee."

They kept the wedding itself incredibly intimate, like under 100 people. The engagement party was huge so rich people could feel included. It was Barbie themed and all Cass's brothers were a different Ken.

Selina insisted on taking each of them dress shopping. Diana Prince, Dinah Lance, Babs, Kate Kane, Mar'i, and Nell came along to both appointments and were the best people to have.

While talking about it at family dinner, someone asked if they wanted anyone to walk them down the aisle. Cass blinked and said "Baba is walking me down the aisle...did I forget to ask?" (Bruce was fully ready to cry)

Steph asked Jason if he'd walk her down the aisle. They definitely bonded over their childhoods and tend to understand each other better than anyone. Jason did cry and isn't ashamed to admit it.

For their wedding party, Cass had Damian (her Brother of Honor and had the rings), Tim, Duke, and Mar'i. Steph had Jason (Best man), Nell, Kate, and Dick.

Helena was their flower girl and inisted Alfred walk with her.

Babs was their officiant because they couldn't imagine anyone else marrying them

There wasn't a dry eye in the house during the vows.

They let Mar'i choose their first dance song. Since Cass is a professional dancer, they didn't want to feel pressured to have a perfect dance. They just wanted something that felt like them

She chose "Carry You Home"by Alex Warren. "I choose us everytime" is the line that sold her. Because if there's one thing Mar'i knows about her aunties, its that few people ever chose them for good reasons growing up. They have always chosen each other.

Their reception lasted all night, no villains interrupting. No Crisis. Nothing blowing up. Just good times.

Instead of the normal speeches by certain people, they had an open mike portion, with anyone who wanted to say something getting two minutes.

Damian made everyone cry with his. Just a simple quote from "The Chaos of Stars" by Kiersten White.

“I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you”

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Cruel Summer Ch. 2

Cruel Summer Series (Coming Soon) | Chapter 1 | Donations | Thoughts & Feelings

You looked down at your lap, “yeah…that's why I’m waiting on a text, I told him last night that I wanted to be more than friends with benefits…I’m falling in love with him! You should see the things he does! And the things he says to me!” you got up and walked over to your bag, “anytime we have dinner together, he always makes me a paper ring, every time.” you pulled out the small clear container full of cute colorful paper rings made from different menus. “Okay, that's some wedding reception bridal party speech shit,” she raised an eyebrow. “That is seriously so cute.” you smiled pulling out a little notebook, “he even drew this cute little archway, from the spot where we first kissed one night in New York...on Cornelia Street.” you bit your lip grinning down at the drawing he’d made for you.

“Ready?” Your assistant brought you back from your mind. “I…” you let out a huff of air before the door opened and you ran out on stage grinning and waving at the crowd again. Megan, your assistant, who’d been with you since the beginning of your acting career, watched on the monitor in the back.

You grinned watching the crowd go wild as you laughed softly. “Wow…you know you guys are just amazing. Truly. I had no idea you’d be so much fun!” you laughed again as they cheered. “I wanted to take a moment before I started my surprise songs for the evening.” you laughed as they cheered louder. “You guys mean so much to me...my music, you know, is how I communicate a lot of what I'm feeling, what I'm going through, and expressing everything I can’t bring myself to say.” You smiled looking up at the nosebleed sections as they clapped and whistled.

You bit your lip a little as you laughed softly, “So…tonight's special because….” you couldn’t even get the words out as the crowd roared in excitement. “I think it’s just better if I show you! So, if you could turn your attention to the screen behind me,” you said, turning toward the screen, as the new album cover rolled out of the screen, you grinned, tears brimming your eyes as the crowd screamed out in excitement. Looking at everyone and walking away from the microphone to just take in the moment as everyone snapped photos, recorded you.

You looked out over the crowd, locking eyes with Chris again; his girlfriend was jumping up and down beside him, screaming excitedly, but he stared at you, smiling softly like he was proud of you. You looked away before walking back over to the microphone. “I had planned to sing you guys a very nice surprise song…but I’ve changed my mind….I’m going to debut a song off my new album!” you grinned and started to strum the guitar in your hands.

“Make sure nobody sees you leave

Hood over your head, keep your eyes down

Tell your friends you're out for a run

You'll be flushed when you return

Take the road less traveled by

Tell yourself you can always stop

What started in beautiful rooms

Ends with meetings in parking lots

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and longing stares

It's born from just one single glance

But it dies, and it dies, and it dies

A million little times”

You laid beside him in bed, laughing as he told joke after joke, enjoying each and every moment with him. “I have a present for you,” you told him as you kissed his shoulder, before sitting up and wrapping the sheet around you as you moved over to your bag and pulled out a small box. You gave it to him and watched as he opened it. “Y/N….you didn’t,” he chuckled, pulling out the small burgundy bottle. “I can’t believe it. Is it the same one we saw in that shop?” he grinned as you nodded and curled up beside him again. “I knew how much you loved it, so I went back the next day and bought it.” you said softly as he leaned down kissing you deeply.

“I can’t believe it, this was the same cologne my grandfather always wore. I can never ever find it." He smiled and kissed you again. “That's because it’s discontinued. But you have this bottle, you can always keep it on your bathroom shelf,” you whispered as he smiled down at you. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten baby, thank you” he kissed you passionately pulling you into his embrace.

“Leave the perfume on the shelf

That you picked out just for him

So you leave no trace behind

Like you don't even exist

Take the words for what they are

A dwindling, mercurial high

A drug that only worked

The first few hundred times

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie, and they lie, and they lie

A million little times”

Chris held a playful grin on his features as he stood on one side of the island as you stood on the other, giggling, a can of whip cream in hand as he held chocolate syrup. “If I disarm myself….are you gonna disarm yourself?” he smirked, raising an eyebrow. You laughed nodding, “Yes! But you put yours down first!” you bit your lip as he began to lower his, suddenly he squirted you with chocolate syrup all over you as you sprayed him with whip cream laughing loudly.

He darted around the island, laughing as you wiggled against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. “Wanna call a truce Kid?” you laughed and nodded as you pressed your lips to his nose. “Truce.” you said softly. “Truce.” he smiled and bent down kissing you deeply again.

“ And you wanna scream

Don't call me "kid"

Don't call me "baby"

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colors

You know I can't see with anyone else

Don't call me "kid"

Don't call me "baby"

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

You taught me a secret language

I can't speak with anyone else

And you know damn well

For you, I would ruin myself

A million little times”

As the song came to an end, tears brimmed your eyes again and you kept your head down for a moment trying to will them away. The crowd erupted in cheers, applause, and screams. You looked up smiling at everyone as they continued to cheer. As you looked out through the crowd, your eyes landed on him again. He stared back at you with an expression you didn’t quite recognize. He looked away from you and whispered something to his girlfriend before walking off.

You smiled at the crowd and waved as you looked around, suddenly you dove into the stage and began getting ready for the next set. You looked at Megan as she eyeballed you. “You were not supposed to sing a song off that album. It doesn't even come out for two more damn months!” She sighed checking your social media’s. “Oh my god…..it's…everyone loved it.” she looked at you as you smirked “yeah….not everyone loved it.” you walked over getting on the platform in your final outfit of the night, “Let’s go make some memories,” you took a deep breath. Something felt better within your heart. He was finally understanding how he crushed you.

Coming up on stage, you grinned as the crowd knew what album you were singing from next. You laughed to yourself as the music started and they began to clap and jump around. You stood there in a blinged out tshirt dress, a fuzzy jacket and your diamond thigh high boots. You sang your heart out, dancing, smiling and waving at the crowd. You barely met Chris’s eye line again and when the show ended, you took your time bowing and waving around to the crowd as they cheered and applauded you.

“What an excellent show tonight!” Megan grinned at you as you walked backstage smiling softly. “I agree, it was great.” your head snapped around at the sound of his voice. Chris stood there, the petite brunette clinging to his side. The air was thick and the tension could be cut with a knife between the two of you. “Chris, hey!” you tried to snap out of it quickly. You smiled at him and his girlfriend. “Hi there! Did you enjoy the show?” you smiled asking her. “Hi! Hello! Sorry! I'm Ali!!” She grinned darting toward you.

You gasped as she hugged you tightly. “Ali!” Chris snapped, pulling her off of you. You looked behind you as the guards came running, “No it's fine. She’s just excited, it's okay, really I know them, they're friends of mine.” you smiled at the guards as they nodded and stood off to the side keeping an eye on her. “We’re friends?!” She giggled as Chris rolled his eyes a little. “You are my idol! I love everything you’ve ever done! Your music helped me through some very dark times in my life, you have no idea how much you mean to me.” Ali said quickly. You smiled sweetly at her. “Aw, Thank you Ali, yes of course we’re friends.” You grinned at her. “Why don’t I go get changed and we can hang out for a little bit,” you stated, looking from her to him. Ali turned to Chris and clasped her hands together. “Oh my gosh, can we Chris?? Can we please?!” she begged as he let out a breath, “uh yeah, but I'm sure Y/N’s real tired so we don’t wanna keep her up all night okay?” he smiled as she jumped up and down excitedly.

“Um, we’re staying across the street, The Inn at Meadowbrook, why don’t you come by and we can all grab some dinner at the restaurant in the lobby and then hang out on the back patio. It’s gated, no paps.” Chris smiled at you as Ali grinned. “It’ll be great!!” she watched as you laughed softly “yeah, absolutely, I’ll go change and meet you guys there.” you said as they smiled and left.

Megan followed you as you walked back to your dressing room. “Do you really think this is a good idea? Hanging out with him and her?” she asked as you entered the room. “It’ll be fine, I’m fine, and it might lead the press away from what else I’m working on.” you said smiling as you grabbed your lounge clothes and got changed. “I guess…just worry about what’s going to be said.” Megan sighed as you smiled softly. “It’s okay, just relax, and take the night off.” You walked out of the building, getting into your car quickly hearing fans screaming for you.

You’d managed to get inside the hotel without being seen and walked into the restaurant, noting how empty it was. “Rented it out for the night,” Chris said, coming up behind you. You turned and looked at him, looking him up and down. Dark blue jeans adorned his lower half, while a black t-shirt and red plaid button down fit his torso perfectly.

He stretched out his arms and pulled you into a hug. For a split second you wanted to bury your face into his neck and remember how it felt to be curled up with him. But, you knew better than that now. You knew he didn’t actually care about you.

You pushed yourself back and smiled softly at him, “best we don’t try anything other than a friendly handshake.” He threw his head back a little and gave you a “ah, I understand” before holding his hand out. You slipped your hand in his, holding it a moment longer than you should have before finally dropping it. “We can sit anywhere,” he spoke into the looming silence. “Oh, well why don’t we wait for-“ “hey!!!” Ally’s voice shot through the Restaurant loudly causing you to flinch slightly.

“Ugh couldn’t find the shoes I wanted to wear but it seems here my little Chrissy wrissy bear had put them in his suitcase!” She laughed, wrapping her arms around his as he stuck his hands in his pockets. “Oh, isn’t that sweet?” You commented with a smile. Dinner was going to be….great.

Once seated, by a window per Ali’s request, you began looking over the menu. “They have a fantastic burger and fries here as well as an awesome tenderloin,” Chris told you, causing you to look up at him. “God you can be so dumb Chris,” Ali laughed and shook her head “don’t listen to him. He doesn’t realize what us girls go through to stay in such perfect shape. They had a great grilled chicken salad,” she buried herself back in her menu, before she set it down. “Be right back gotta run to the little girls room,” she kissed Chris’s cheek and got up leaving the two of you at the table.

You set your menu down and let out a small sigh, “I think I’m going to get my dinner to go…I’m pretty exhausted and…” “Ali’s a lot. I know. She’s not normally like this…..well she is but it’s usually much more toned down. Why don’t I go talk to her and you order?” Chris said as he stood. You sighed “Chris…does she even know about us?” You asked softly. He looked down before he shook his head. “No, I’ve never told anyone.”

You sat back and watched him walk toward the bathrooms, why were you doing this to yourself? You felt that familiar pain upon hearing, “No, I never told anyone.” He was the one who had your heart in a Vice grip, even now, and you thought having dinner with him and her was a good idea? You were clearly insane.

Tag List: (Message me if you want to be added!)

@notebooks-of-nonsense @fdl305 @bval-1 @calimoi @syntheticavenger @forgetmenotsexy @mrsjenniferwinchester @chaneajoyyy @mommad @wolfieeebbbyyy @dontbescaredtosingalong @ellen-reincarnated1967 @adriellej @coffeebooksandfandom @patzammit @posiemax @auriel187 @ladybug05 @stoneyggirl2 @fallenoutofrose @mrspeacem1nusone @teamfreewill-imagine @inlovewith3 @auvisanspeur

(if its not letting me tag your name, afdter 3 attempts (3 chapters) your name will be removed, so make sure youre following me! That sometimes doesnt allow me to properly tag you if you aren't following me!)

[you-me-we-04]

My pitch for the community movie is that it is centered on a wedding, specifically Abed’s wedding. The catch is no one knows who he's marrying. Abed uses a Mr. Big style nickname, so the group has no clue who this person is. The whole movie could be about getting the gang back together for Abed’s wedding day. The two main plots are the gang trying to locate Troy so he can be Abed's best man and the gang trying to work out who Abed is marrying so they can do the whole shovel talk with them. This would be a great way to bring in a ton of fan-favorite characters without having to set it at Greendale since they’re all here for the wedding.

 Along with this, it could kinda push the whole Abed fucks thing, since the group could discover that back in Greendale Abed really got around a lot more than the thought (hell maybe throw in a joke that he and white Abed actually slept together). The group would then come to believe that Rachel is the person Abed is marrying and after falling to locate Troy and some type of fight happening due to the group trying to give Rachel the shovel talk (even if I don’t really like the trope of “Long term friends finding out that they never really understood/knew each other” could work really well here) 

The gang including Pierce’s Energon pod (shove a bow tie on that pod) comes together to make Abed’s wedding memorable and prove that they do value their friendship; Jeff and Britta try to see  who can throw Abed the best Bachelor party, Annie falling into the wedding planner role and fighting with the actual wedding planner, something happening with the baker so Shirley steps up to make the wedding cake stuff like that. 

As they are seated for the ceremony we find out that Rachel is the best man (maybe they made a successful sitcom together? and worked out they work better as friends) and of course, the other groom is Troy (and him hiding from the group was his way of bringing the group back together as his wedding gift to Abed was a reunion episode)  At the reception warp up any major storylines ie Jeff and Annie or Jeff and the Dean. Jeff gives a toast and makes the Jeff Winger Speech to end all Jeff Winger Speeches. It's a party and everyone is having a great time. 

Then cut to a quiet moment between Troy and Abed, Abed thanking Troy for this reunion episode even if he thinks it's more like a movie, (If you wanted to make it bittersweet you could do an whole speech about how Abed is okay with this potential being a one of reunion since that what makes it special and sometimes people ((tv shows)) are just the friends you need at that point in your life and you can have years of laughter and joy from those friends but even if you outgrow/end those friendship ((TV shows ending natural or being canceled)) it doesn’t ruined the time you had together and sometimes bring those friendship back can taint the original memories ((needlessly rebooting tv show past their prime)) it okay to miss those friends but it's impotent to move on, we can value those old friend while still making new and different friends,((find new shows with new ideas that we love, that doesn’t mean we like the other shows any less)) that just a part of life) 

 Abed gives Troy his gift, it's a film script Rachel and him are working on about a group of misfits who come together to save their community college from an all powerful evil and on it there is a note that says “write with us?” with Abed asking Troy to join them in writing it since the script needs heart and Troy has the biggest heart out of anyone he’s ever met. He agrees and we get a Troy cries/handshake/kiss moment. It ends with a group hugging and the cast dancing to Roxanne or the opening theme in a cute post-credit bit (in or out of character)

[kc5rings]

If you're doing the sticker prompts I rolled 1 for Nian

I more intended it as a game for folks who want a prompt for themselves for art or fic, but luck is on your side because I happened to be thinking about Nian already this morning after seeing some metal gear that made me insane

(Not taking any other prompts at the moment but the game is here if anyone wants to use it for themselves)

Under the cut: Chastity, heat reference, improper use of medical equipment, improper definitions of medical equipment, Nian Gets Trolled.png

“I should have figured when Hibiscus messaged me to come drag you out of medical that it would be something ridiculous like this.”

Nian crossed her arms, grinning and unrepentant, as ever immune to Lava’s scathing reprimands.

“All I’m saying, is you’d think an open minded medical facility like Rhodes Island would be a little more receptive to a holistic, non medication approach to a very common medical concern for many of its op-“

Lava cut into Nian’s speech before she wound herself up into full pitch mode, leaning heavily on her cane with one hand while gesturing vaguely at what Nian was wearing.

“Is that what we’re calling….. all this then?”

Far from being deterred Nian’s grin only widened as she did a little turn to make sure Lava got a good look, which she happily did, taking a moment to appreciate forge hewn muscle before sighing and taking in Nian’s “outfit”

Her regular clothing had been discarded the moment Lava had shut the door to her quarters, Nian having been in a hurry to show off her latest project. Across her chest was a tight band of steel, with a cup covering the entirety of each breast. Continuing down from there revealed a steel waist corset cinched reasonably tight, though Lava couldn’t begin to imagine how that was accomplished with metal.

Finally, there was the belt.

Just a bit below the edge of the corset sat the waist band of what could only be described as what it was, a chastity belt. Perfectly shaped to fit the lines of Nian’s body, with a ring in the waistband to settle at the thick base of Nian’s tail, a sturdy, contoured, front shield and capped off by a pair of wide metal bands on her thighs. As with the rest of the ensemble it was all secured with ornate locks and polished to a near mirror shine.

Lava pinched the bridge of her nose

“Nian, this is obviously fetishwe-“

“Medical aids, Lil Lava, please”

“Not calling it that.”

Despite her curt tone Lava knew this was a losing battle, once Nian had a concept she wanted to talk about she refused to let it go until someone heard her out and that someone was usually Lava

“Fine. I’ll bite.”

“Promise?”

“Just make your pitch Nian. How is any of this possibly medical?”

Lava could swear she saw a literal flame in Nian’s eye for a moment before Nian gave her an overly dramatic bow, setting the many locks adorning her accessories jingling

“It’d be my pleasure. Ya see I’ve done my research and found that a sizable number of Terran species experience heat, now heat is the common term for-“

“I know what heat is Nian, you know I do.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll skip ahead.”

Nian made a placating gesture and rolled on with her pitch, pointing to each relevant piece of gear as she went

“The cups on the top prevent contact with sensitive nipples even during rigorous activity or while laden with equipment, the front shield prevents contact that might worsen symptoms and splits at the back for comfort, the bands on the thighs and tail help keep everything in place and secure. Obviously it’s all padded, every measure had been taken to ensure both comfort and hygiene during long term wear while-“

“And the corset? What “medical” benefit is that providing”

Nian flashed her teeth again, despite her protests Lava was an excellent “yes and” partner when she felt like it, and now Nian had gotten her to play.

“Well you see.” Nian drew herself up to her full height, head and shoulders over Lava to the point she almost loomed.

“They are great for your posture.”

Lava rolled her eyes, sure that Nian was familiar enough with the movement that she’d recognize it even with Lava wearing her visor

“Right. Well putting aside the frankly astounding number of ethical problems with all of that, it still wouldn’t work here at Rhodes.”

Nian tilted her head, curious.

“Oh? And why’s that?”

It was Lava’s turn to grin, she knew she was playing Nian’s game now, no helping that. But they’d been at this for years and Lava had gotten very good at playing.

“Haven’t you ever seen the combat logs of some of our operators once they get riled up in a fight? That pretty belt of yours wouldn’t last a second against someone like operator Horn in heat, no chance in hell”

“Lil Lava you wound me! In my pride as an artisan no less.” Using her tail Nian fished something out of her pile of discarded clothes and with a flick, sent something through the air at Lava. “Catch.”

Lava snatched the object with one hand before taking a moment to look it over. “Key” would be an accurate description but a very reductive one, the body of the key was cylindrical, with the teeth numbering in the dozens all around its circumference. Stranger though, was the fact that as Lava stared at the key it’s teeth became less defined and fuzzy, seeming to almost move.

“Give me fifty years and I *might* be able to produce that same exact key from memory, anybody who’s not me though? No chance.” Only Nian could make admitting she couldn’t do something in less than fifty years sound like a boast. “And that’s not all.”

Nian lifted one clawed finger up for Lava to see, the tip glowing forge hot after a moments concentration, and reached down to drag it up the front shield of the belt. Lava winced at the terrible screech and sparks the contact made, but when Nian finished her little display the belt hadn’t even lost its shine. “I built this piece as sturdy as I can make something, trust me when I say that without that exact key it’s not going anywhere.”

“….. Ok I’ll admit it, that’s pretty impressive.” Lava had seen Nian shape ingots by hand and shear chunks off of them with those same claws, that belt really was something else.

Lava pocketed the key.

From the same pocket she’d stored the key in Lava produced a small injection gun, with casual ease she reached out and pressed it against the exposed skin of Nian’s hip, right in the gap between the bottom of the corset and the top of the belt and pulled the trigger.

Nian, for her part, made no move to stop Lava and barely reacted to the injection. Lava had the basic medical training afforded to all higher level Rhodes Island operators and had long since become adept in administering her own meds so Nian hardly felt a thing.

Aside from a sudden burning curiosity.

“What was-“

“Highly concentrated heat inducer.” Lava let the now empty injector clatter onto a nearby table. “Gavial slipped it to me when I was coming to get you, mentioned something about how she owed you a prize after handing her a string of losses and that because you never had a proper physical she had to take a “Gavial Guess” at the dosage.”

Lava took advantage of a rare moment of stunned Nian silence to close the gap between them. “You’re so sure this stuff is a good answer to heat? Fine, but you’re doing the testing. Be sure to record your findings while I’m gone.”

Lava allowed herself a smile only after turning away from Nian’s dumbfounded expression, trying to process what had just happened. Only the last word of “gone” snapped her out of it. “Wait, what do mean by “gone” Lil Lava?”

Lava tossed a hand up in farewell as she headed out the door. “Oh didn’t I mention? I’m leading an away mission of new recruits later today, shouldn’t be gone more than three weeks, probably.”

With that, Lava turned down the hallway, the staccato rhythm of her cane on metal flooring slowly growing distant. Leaving Nian reeling.

“Ok Lil Lava I get it, you got me fair and square this time, you can come back now!” The only answer Nian received was a sudden involuntary muscle clench, a spike in temperature and sweat slowly beading on her brow.

“L-Lava?!”

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter Seven

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Seven: Heartwarming Speech

Summary: The wedding begins, and they arrive at Sherlock's Best Man speech.

            Once the entire party was inside for the wedding reception, John and Mary got to go in and mingle before eating. (Y/N) and Sherlock followed them, eager to avoid more people. However, that didn’t keep them from amusing themselves and deducing people as they went by. Unfortunately, (Y/N) had less fun than they wanted to since Janine had wandered back over to flirt with Sherlock.

            “He seems nice,” said Janine as a waiter walked by, prompting Sherlock and (Y/N) to use their deductive abilities.

            “Traces two leading brands of deodorant,” said Sherlock. “Both advertised for their strength. Suggestive of chronic body odor problem manifesting under stress.”

            “Okay, done there,” said Janine. “What about his friend?” She watched another waiter come out of the kitchen and begin pulling out the roast beef.

            Sherlock looked at (Y/N), and they spoke (even though they didn’t like playing along for Janine. She irritated them). “Long-term relationship, but a compulsive cheater.”

            “Seriously? How do you know?” asked Janine, clearly wanting Sherlock to continue.

            (Y/N) decided to take that satisfaction from her (if she ruined their fun, they’d ruin her attempt to flirt. (Y/N) was petty). “Waterproof cover on his smartphone, but his complexion isn’t affected by the sun, which means it’s for taking his phone into the shower, which is most likely to avoid his partner finding texts they shouldn’t.”

            Sherlock nodded, and (Y/N) smiled proudly. Then, the pair of detectives noticed a scarred man in a military uniform walking in. John squared his shoulders and walked up, clearly trying to impress the man. The pair walked away from Janine to Mary, and all three watched the interaction between John and the man.

            “So that’s him—Major Sholto,” said (Y/N). It was one of John’s superiors from the army, someone he deeply respected.

            “Uh-huh,” said Mary.

            Sherlock furrowed his brow in irritation. “If they’re such good friends, why does he barely even mention him?”

            “He mentions him all the time to me,” said Mary. “He never shuts up about him.”

            “About him?” asked Sherlock.          

            “Mhm,” said Mary, taking a sip of her wine. She made a face. “Ugh. I chose this wine, and it’s bloody awful.”

            (Y/N) glanced at her knowingly.

            “And it’s definitely him that he talks about?” repeated Sherlock, still staring at Sholto and John.

            “We didn’t hear his name until the wedding,” said (Y/N).

            “Well, he’s almost a recluse…you know, since…” Mary trailed off.

            “Yes,” said Sherlock, and (Y/N) nodded.

            “I didn’t think he would show up at all. John says he’s the most unsociable man he’s ever met,” said Mary.

            “He is? He’s the most unsociable?” said Sherlock, jealous of his best friend thinking so “highly” of someone else.

            “You have a kid,” said (Y/N), straightforward as ever.

            “So that’s why he’s bouncing around him like a puppy,” muttered Sherlock sullenly.

            Mary laughed and hugged Sherlock and (Y/N). “Oh, you two! Neither of us were the first, you know!”

            “Stop smiling,” said Sherlock.

            “It’s my wedding day!” said Mary, refusing to stop beaming.

            Sherlock huffed and walked away. (Y/N) shrugged and followed, knowing he was feeling insecure about the dynamic between him and John changing now that he was married.

l

            (Y/N) sat down at the table with John and Mary (some people had argued with John for letting a teen sit at the table with the bridesmaids and groomsmen, but he had been insistent that (Y/N) was family and Sherlock’s family so they deserved it).

            Sherlock was pacing nearby on his phone (likely talking to Mycroft, judging by his expression). Then, he took a deep breath and sat down. It was time for the wedding dinner.

            “How do you feel?” murmured (Y/N).

            “I feel fine,” said Sherlock as he ate.

            “Your speech is coming up,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock cleared his throat and took a sip of champagne. “I’m aware.”

            I wonder what he decided on, thought (Y/N).

            The time for Sherlock’s speech came sooner than it should, and the Master of Ceremonies tapped his spoon against his champagne glass. The ringing drew everyone’s attention, and the crowd grew silent. He nodded to Sherlock.

            “Pray, silence for the Best Man,” said the Master of Ceremonies.

            All eyes turned to Sherlock as he stood. (Y/N) knew that although he was confident when on cases and using his deductive abilities, this sort of vulnerable-speech-giving was not his strength.

            He cleared his throat. “Ladies, gentlemen, family, friends, and, er, others…” He blinked, and an awkward pause settled into the silence. “Er, w-also…”

            (Y/N) coughed. “Telegrams,” they whispered. They had seen him put them in his pocket.

            Sherlock jolted, patted his pocket, and pulled out the cards within. “Right, um…First things first—telegrams. Well, they’re not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I don’t know why. Wedding tradition because we don’t have enough of that, apparently.”

            (Y/N) smiled. They were going to love this entire wedding if it was John and Mary having fun and Sherlock getting sarcastic.

            Sherlock lifted up the first telegram. “ ‘To Mr. and Mrs. Watson. So sorry I’m unable to be with you on your special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.’ ”

            John smiled. “Mike,” he said, pleased to hear from his old friend.

            “ ‘To John and Mary,’ ” Sherlock moved on to the next card, “ ‘All good wishes on your special day. With love and many big…big squishy cuddles’—” Sherlock tried not to make a face “—from Stella and Ted.”

            “ ‘Mary, lots of love…poppet…oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from CAM. Wish your family could see this,’ ” read sherlock.

            Mary’s face fell, and (Y/N) cocked their head and noted the movement for later assessment.        

            “Um, ‘special day,’ ‘very special day,’ ‘love, love, love…’ ” Sherlock flipped through the various telegrams. “Bit of a theme,” he said to the end the ordeal. “People are basically fond.”

            The guests laughed, many not realizing this wasn’t just a joke but legitimately Sherlock. However, the moment wasn’t over, and Sherlock had to continue. It was time of the real speech to begin.

            “John Watson,” said Sherlock, gesturing towards the groom. “My friend, John Watson. When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused.”

In the past…

            “What’s that noise downstairs?” asked (Y/N) as John entered 221B. They didn’t look at him and just kept watching Sherlock use his blowtorch on the eyeball he had procured from…somewhere.

            “Er, it was Mrs. Hudson laughing,” said John.

            “Sounded like she was torturing an owl,” said Sherlock.

            “Well, it was laughter,” said John.

            “Could’ve been both,” said Sherlock.

            “Are you two busy?” said John, looking at Sherlock’s latest experiment in confusion.

            “Just occupying myself. Not smoking. Veeeery bored,” said Sherlock. The eyeball slipped out of the tweezers and fell into his mug.

            “You’ll have to do that experiment again,” observed (Y/N). “We didn’t anticipate tea as a variable.”

            Sherlock sighed.

            “Uh, right,” said John. “Mind if I interrupt before you do…whatever you’re doing?”

            “Be our guest,” said Sherlock, gesturing to John’s chair. “Tea?”

            “No, thanks,” said John, eying the mug with the floating eye. He cleared his throat and looked at Sherlock. “So. The big question.”

            Sherlock faced him and clearly was just trying to fish the eyeball out of the much.

            “The Best Man,” said John.

            “The Best Man?” asked (Y/N) and Sherlock.

            “What do you think?” asked John.

            “Billy Kincaid,” said Sherlock.

            “David Tennant,” said (Y/N).

            “Sorry, what?” John looked between the pair, bewildered.

            “David Tennant is a great man who adopts and supports trans rights,” said (Y/N).

            “Billy Kincaid, the Camden Garrotter. Best man I ever knew. Vast contributions to charity, never disclosed,” said Sherlock. “Personally managed to save three hospitals from closure and ran the best and safest children’s homes in North England—”

            “Not mine,” interjected (Y/N).

            “—Yes, every now and again there’d be some garroting,” admitted Sherlock, “but stacking up the lives saved against the garroting, on balance I’d say—”

            “For my wedding!” interrupted John. “For me. I need a best man.”

            “Oh, right,” said Sherlock, reconsidering. “Maybe not a garrotter. Gavin?”

            “Who?” asked John.

            “Gavin Lestrade. He’s a man and good at it,” said Sherlock.

            “I think it’s Greg,” said (Y/N).

            “Lestrade isn’t my best friend,” said John.

            “Oh, Mike Stamford, I see,” said Sherlock. “Well, he’s nice, um, though I’m now sure how well he’d cope with all—”

            “No, Mike’s great, but he’s not my best friend. Look, Sherlock, this is the biggest and most important day of my life,” said John.

            “I thought that was when someone’s kid is born,” said (Y/N), confused.

            “There are competing opinions,” said Sherlock.

            “It is for me!” said John definitively. “It is, and I want to be up there with the three people that I love and care about most in the world.”

            “Right,” said Sherlock.

            “Mary Morstan,” said John.

            “Yes,” said Sherlock and (Y/N).

            “(Y/N) (L/N),” said John.

            “Yes,” said the pair.

            “And…you,” said John, looking at Sherlock.

            Sherlock stood motionless and just stared at John. His entire brain was on the fritz after John admitted he loved and cared about Sherlock.

            “Uh, Sherlock?” said John, concerned since Sherlock wasn’t reacting in any way to anything.

            Sherlock just stared.

            “Dad?” said (Y/N), tilting their head. They glanced at John. “I think you broke him.”

            “It’s getting a bit scary now,” said John worriedly.

            Finally, Sherlock sucked in a breath and blinked. “So, in fact, you mean…I’m your…best friend?”

            “Yeah, of course you are,” said John.

            Sherlock reached out for his tea mug, and (Y/N) slid their own, untouched glass to him instead of the eyeball-tea. He took a sip, calming down.

            “You alright, Dad?” asked (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Sherlock, nodding.

            “You’ll have to make a speech, of course,” continued John.

            Sherlock froze again, and (Y/N) smiled in amusement.

Present…

            “I confess at first I didn’t realize he was asking me,” said Sherlock in the best man speech he’d been so worried about. “When I finally understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and…surprised.”

            That’s an understatement, thought (Y/N).

            “I explained to him that I’d never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it,” said Sherlock, pretending he hadn’t nearly broken down at John calling him his best friend. “I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he’d placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being…moved by it.” He coughed. “It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud.”

            The guests laughed, and (Y/N) chuckled. They were enjoying Sherlock’s speech. It was very him and was definitely showing he cared about John.

            Sherlock glanced at his cue cards and continued. “Normally, I would say I couldn’t congratulate John because all emotions stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things—the exception being my child.”

            (Y/N) raised their glass as people laughed. Sherlock smiled slightly at them before checking his notes again.

            “John became another exception,” he said. “I am an unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all-around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to me. But John put up with me. And he and (Y/N) have redeemed me by the warmth and constancy of their friendships.”

            Sherlock turned to John. “But, as I’m apparently your best friend, John, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. Actually, now I can. Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is one of the highest compliments I am capable of. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss…so sorry again about the last one…so know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife, and the man and his child you have saved—in short, the three people who love you most in the world. And I know I speak for Mary and (Y/N) as well when I say we will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.”

            John gazed up at Sherlock and cleared his throat. “If I try to hug him, stop me,” he murmured to Mary.

            She smiled. “Certainly not.”

            Around the room, a large number of people were teary-eyed and crying. Mrs. Hudson was dabbing at her eyes, and Lestrade was covering his face. Even (Y/N) had a warm smile on their face and gazed happily at their dead.

            Sherlock was oblivious to all of this as he consulted his cards. “Ah, yes. Now onto some funny stories about John…” he trailed off as he saw everyone’s reactions to his speech. He blinked. “What���s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? (Y/N)? John?” He looked at them and Mary in bewilderment. “Did I do it wrong?”

            John stood. “No, you didn’t. Come here.” He grabbed Sherlock and pulled him into a tight hug.

            The entire room broke out into applause, and (Y/N) laughed.

            Sherlock frowned. “I haven’t finished yet.” He didn’t understand the reaction from everyone.

            “Yeah, I know, I know,” said John, just hugging his best friend tighter.

            The applause finally died down, and John let go of Sherlock. He cleared his throat and consulted his cue cards again before looking up.

            “So, onto some funny stories about John. If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would be better. On we go. So, for funny stories…one has to look no further than John’s blog—the record of our time together,” said Sherlock. “Of course, he does tend to romanticize things a bit, but then, you know, he’s a romantic. We’ve tackled some strange cases: the Hollow Client, the Poison Giant. We’ve had some frustrating cases, touching cases, and of course I have to mention the elephant in the room. But we want something…very particular for this special day, don’t we?”

            I wonder what he’ll choose, thought (Y/N).

            “The Bloody Guardsman,” said Sherlock.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

[ukrfeminism]

Women dealing with severe mental illness are still being jailed despite prisons being “ill-equipped” to offer suitable care, a major review has warned.

Many women and health providers view the prison environment as “unfit for purpose”, while six in 10 inmates said the “inconsistent” health and social care services across England’s 12 women’s prisons needed improvement, the long-awaited NHS and Prison Service review found.

Despite figures suggesting nearly 60 per cent of female offenders have experienced domestic abuse, the review warned of a “gap” in mental healthcare and specialist support for women who have experienced trauma, including sexual and domestic violence.

The review – which was due last March – is touted as involving potentially the largest-ever engagement of women with lived experience of prison, drawing on more than 2,250 responses from group discussions, one-to-one meetings, letters, postcards and drawings.

Its findings underscore heightened concerns around women’s prisons, after the number of self-harm incidents rose by 63 per cent to hit a grim new record of 20,248 in the 12 months to June – three times higher than a decade earlier – despite the number of women self-harming remaining relatively stable in recent years.

The “absolutely staggering” rise could reflect issues with understaffing and a lack of suitable training, HM chief inspector of prisons Charlie Taylor told The Independent last month, adding: “These are often the most vulnerable, very unwell women, some of whom should quite frankly be in secure hospital, not in prison.”

Experts have long highlighted that mentally unwell women are being imprisoned unnecessarily, with MPs warning last April that legislation handing courts the power to remand people in prison “for their own protection” should be repealed.

While the government’s draft Mental Health Bill proposed this, and introduced a requirement to remand people to hospital when the only ground is concern for mental health, Rishi Sunak did not include the Bill in the King’s Speech – leaving it off the parliamentary agenda for the year ahead.

“This is a missed opportunity to right a grave wrong, and means women as well as men in crisis will continue to be sent to prisons which are unfit and unequipped to meet their needs,” Prison Reform Trust chief executive Pia Sinha told The Independent.

The newly-published review also highlighted that women’s reception and early days in prison are often “traumatic, deeply distressing and bewildering”, especially for pregnant women and mothers separated from their children.

“I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t feel like I could ask, I felt completely away from everything,” one woman told the researchers. “When they told me, I didn’t have a clue, I couldn’t picture it, then I found out I was hours from home and it really hit me how far away from my kids I was.”

Only around half of women said their immediate healthcare needs were met during the first 24 hours in custody. Vital services are also often not gender-specific, researchers found, leaving further gaps in care for women.

“Not one person has spoken to me about incontinence, menopause, what are healthy bowel habits, my boobs,” said one woman, while another told researchers: “Managing your periods in prison can be a nightmare. Some women don’t even know the pill or coil can help. They just assume because they’re in prison, they aren’t entitled to this sort of help.”

Women with reduced mobility, who are neurodiverse and who are older appeared most disadvantaged by a poor environment in prisons, the revew found, with one woman saying: “You’ve got more chance getting around prison on a flying carpet than you have in a wheelchair.”

The report also highlighted that not all staff are trained in trauma-informed care, with one respondent quoted as saying: “‘There are so many mental health ladies and ladies with learning disabilities that should not be here. 

“The prison is not a mental health hospital. Staff are not trained to deal with the complex needs, so those people do not get help to do anything or get what they need.”

Another said: “Officers don’t always get it, sometimes how they talk to us makes it worse. They need better training; they need to learn how to see it when a woman is in crisis.”

Meanwhile, in the 2019/20 year, some 45 per cent of women did not attend planned outpatient appointments, compared to 22 per cent in the general population – with “complex” reasons for this including there being no prison staff available to accompany them, according to the Nuffield Trust.

The Ministry of Justice has pledged to deliver on the report’s eight recommendations, and has earmarked £21m for a three-year delivery plan jointly led by the NHS, and Prison and Probation Service.

Urging an “ongoing multiagency commitment” to delivering the recommendations, the Prison Reform Trust warned that the review “cannot be reduced to yet another bureaucratic process”, adding: “Its success needs to be measured by the impact it has on improving the health and social care needs of women in custody.”

[colormepurplex2]

Till Death Do Us Part | Enigmatic Decisions Of The Heart

↳ Hitman Yoongi x Kidnapped f.Reader ⤜ Enemies/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 8,766 ⚠️ Lots of angst, fake virginity loss, mild blood, mild cum play, things get a little weird...but in a good way?

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to chapter list

Happiness, like many other things, is a subjective experience. What makes one person happy may not be the same for someone else. If anyone were to ask whether or not you're happy, you're not entirely sure how you would respond. Happy that you're alive? Sure. Happy that you'll be walking down the aisle to marry someone you consider an enemy in just a few short hours? Not exactly. Happy you have a roof over your head? Only when it's snowing. Snow reminds you of a day you'd rather sooner forget. Happy to have food in your belly? The way the sausage and eggs from breakfast sit in the pit of your stomach right now means the jury is still out on that one, but you'd wager to say yes most times. The point is, you're trying to come to terms with finding your own happiness. There has to be a silver lining. If there was ever a lesson from your father that you took to heart, it was the fact that we are often the product of our own choices. Meaning, you can choose where to find happiness. You just have to want to see it. Even if it's in places you may have once taken for granted. The sun on your face, the wind in your hair; they may be little things, even a little cliché, but they're things that are so common no one would think to deprive you of them. Small pieces of happiness.

You're sitting at one of the windows in your room, staring out over the backyard. There are a handful of men dressed in dark blue jumpers working diligently to set up a few chairs in front of the gazebo in the garden. Others are placing arranged flower pieces of royal purple and black down the makeshift aisle. You can't help but smile bitterly, looking at the colors you chose. It was a surprise when Yoongi gave you that choice, the one thing you've had control over for this entire arrangement. You chose purple because it's your favorite and black because you think it suits Yoongi and his damned soul. You thought it would be ugly. Though, the irony of them blending together so well in the flower baskets is not lost on you. But, it's too late to change it now.

The rest of the reception last night went by in a numbing motion of flowery speeches and forced pleasantries. It was hard to focus on any of the words. All you could focus on was the crawling feeling between your thighs. Cleaning up with Yoongi's discarded jacket didn't exactly give you any peace of mind other than the fact the garment got soiled. It made you grin for a moment before the guilt set in, thinking how it wouldn't make a difference to Yoongi, as he wouldn't be the one cleaning the jacket. You made it a point to locate Mai after the speeches and profusely apologize. She took the jacket with a bit of trepidation but didn't ask any questions, simply excused herself to take care of it.

A soft knock at the door makes the memories fade away, leaving behind just the ache in your chest.

"It's open," you call, as you stand from the seat by the window. The door swings open slowly, revealing Mai on the other side. She has traded in her usual black pants and white button-down for a floor-length, long-sleeve black dress. You give her a once over. "Mai, dressed for the occasion, I see. Funerals, weddings, might as well be the same thing, huh?"

Her steps falter with your words. Large brown eyes meet yours and you watch as the color drains from her face. "Miss, I'm sorry, I didn't- this is just- please, let me go change."

You wave a hand in the air, shaking your head. "No, no. I'm sorry, Mai, I was only kidding. You look great. Please, I love that dress on you. I was just trying to lighten my mood, that's all. Truly."

The look on her face slips a little, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Okay, Miss," she accepts softly. You can tell she's having an internal battle about whether to actually accept your words or immediately go change as she said she would.

"What's first, hair or makeup?" you ask in hopes of drawing the conversation away to something else.

Mai gives you a tight smile with a small nod of her head. "Right. Well, I think it's best we start with both."

"Both?"

Before Mai can respond, you hear the clicking of high heels coming toward your room from out in the hall. A moment later you're greeted with a sing-songy, "Good afternoon, you beautiful bitch."

Miriam struts into the room, bringing with her a cloud of floral perfume. "Miriam," you say in surprise. You weren't expecting to see her here.

"The one and only." She winks and gives you an exaggerated bow. Snapping up and tossing Mai a sweet smile, she smooths her lilac-colored dress over her ample hips. The color of the dress contrasts beautifully with her deep ochre skin and ebony ringlets. "Let's get to it, Mai-Mai, we only have a few more hours before our friend here joins the ranks of us degenerates." Her sparkling brown eyes meet yours and she bites her pink-painted bottom lip. "Ready to enter Hell for all eternity, princess?"

An hour later, Miriam is still working pins and curls into your hair while Mai applies subtle makeup meant to emphasize your eyes and lips. The two features you long ago learned are Yoongi's favorites of your face. "What was your wedding like, Miriam?" you question, taking a small sip of the champagne she had snuck into your room. You weren't allowed to attend their wedding, but you remember the day it happened.

Miriam gives a sharp laugh. "Oh, fuck. Let's see...well, it was similar to this. Only in the fact I was about to marry a man I hardly knew and become part of a family I wasn't the biggest fan of. That's the thing with arranged marriages, though, right? It's so archaic." She takes a step back, drawing your attention through the mirror of your dressing table. "I am man, let me beat my chest and proclaim women as property to trade," she mocks in a deep grumble, smacking her fist against her chest for emphasis. "Bunch of assholes if you ask me. But, daddy wanted in with The Hitman, so here we are." Her shoulders jump up in a quick shrug. "I chose hot pink and lime green, intending to just piss Seokjin off. It didn't really work, the jerk actually complimented them. I'll say, really, Seokjinnie isn't so bad. After I bloodied his nose or lip a time or two he learned I wasn't just some sniveling little girl he could walk all over."

She catches your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror. "Bloodied nose?"

"Pow, right in the kisser," she chortles, punching the air a few times. "You can't let these apes get the best of you, love. You have to give just as good as you get. That goes for all aspects." She gives you a pointed look. "If he treats you right, you treat him right. End of it. Got it?"

You want nothing more than to cling to her words. But, all you can seem to do is give a small nod and hope she doesn't notice the already flowering defeat in your eyes. You're not sure Yoongi will ever treat you right again, so what's the point? After a moment you smile a little. "Bloodied nose," you murmur to yourself. Maybe you'll try that next. What's the worst that could happen?

"You're still a virgin, right?" You gawk at her in the mirror, her question taking you by surprise.

"Miriam, I don't-," you begin but she bursts out into a full belly laugh, cutting you off.

She waves a hand in the air. "I'm only asking so I can impart a little bit of advice where that's concerned." Her right eyebrow arches high up her forehead.

You clear your throat, dropping your eyes to Mai's feet where she stands in front of you. "I am and have it constantly monitored. It's part of the contract, I've never even used a tampon," you murmur, your upper lip curling in irritation. Growing up, your mother would go bonkers anytime you brought them up, saying you shouldn't use such things until you're much older. After everything that happened, you couldn't help but think perhaps maybe your mom was somehow trying to appease whatever future husband you might have gained the interest of. All she really did was manipulate and control your life much the way it's being controlled now, it was just disguised as the love of a mother.

Miriam sighs. "It was the same for me," she confirms, softly. "Look at me," she requests, placing a hand on your shoulder. Your eyes come up, meeting hers in the mirror. "I know it might seem impossible now, but if you can look past the situation and just focus on the good you know is here in Yoongi," she taps her chest gently, "it won't be so bad. You might even enjoy it."

An unattractive snort works its way out of your nose. "You don't have to have the birds and bees talk with me, Miriam. I know what sex is and what it involves. I don't expect to enjoy it, not when I don't have a choice in the matter."

"That's where you're wrong, though," she muses as she resumes teasing your hair into place. "You do have a choice, in a sense. You can choose to own the moment. Don't just slap on a brave face and bear it. Take control, find your own pleasure."

Is that something you're capable of? Miriam makes it sound so easy. But, the more you think about it, the less you feel like that's something you can do. A choice? It doesn't feel much like a choice. Perhaps, when the time comes, you'll be able to see it a little differently.

The only attendees of your wedding, aside from yourself and Yoongi, are his dad, brothers, Miriam, Mai, and Wenton, Yoongi's assistant. The Hitman, himself, officiated the wedding. His words were gruff and to the point, skipping all the fluffy symbolism. You went through the motions, walking yourself down the aisle, handing your purple and black bouquet off to Miriam, reciting the vows, and eventually, became Yoongi's wife. He barely looked at you the entire time, his focus either on the ground at your feet or on his father. A small part of you kept screaming at him in your head, begging for him to just look at you...to see you. He didn't.

It doesn't go unnoticed to you that The Hitman didn't offer up for anyone to make objections. Not that you would expect any of these people to come to your rescue. It's just the principle of the matter, you think. There is no after-party or dinner. Everyone simply goes their separate ways after you're pronounced husband and wife.

"Meet me out front in an hour," Yoongi grumbles, leaving you standing in the gazebo with his father.

His dismissive attitude shouldn't surprise you, but you can't help the way the ache in your chest digs a little deeper. You begin to gather the voluminous skirt of your dress to head toward the house when a hand catches your wrist.

You look back, eyes meeting those of The Hitman. Fight or flight is a serious battle of wills. Right now, you want nothing more than to rip your wrist from his grasp and run screaming. There are no words he could utter to you that you want to hear.

"You're part of my family now, girl. I expect you to act like it, you understand?" When you just blink up at him in silence he gives your wrist a generous shake. "Understand?" he repeats.

"Yes." His eyes narrow and his grip tightens around your wrist. You wince, adding, "sir. Yes, sir."

He gives a jerk of his chin, roughly releasing your wrist before turning on his heel, stepping from the gazebo and heading further into the garden. "See to it that you do," he calls without looking back.

Despite the burning behind your eyes, you stop the tears before they can even begin, refusing to let that man have any control over your emotions. Giving his retreating form one last glance, you turn toward the house and make your own way out of the gazebo.

Mai follows quietly behind you all the way to your room. You half expect Miriam to show up again, but shortly after you begin pulling the pins from your hair, you hear her voice carry down the hall and continue past your door. Miriam once had a room here, too. After marrying Seokjin, though, they both moved to another home on the property. It's not all that far from the main house, but far enough away that you've only seen her two other times since then. You imagine you'll be in your own home with Yoongi soon enough as well. It's hard to decide whether that's a blessing or a curse.

"I know of a precious little boutique that will put this in a shadow box for you," Mai comments, helping you slip out of your wedding gown.

You can't help the scoff that slips out. "I don't know about that, Mai. I don't exactly care that much about it, sorry." That's not exactly the truth, but not wholly a lie either. You didn't get to pick the dress out, but it seems Yoongi has a knack for choosing pretty things for you to wear. It's a painfully beautiful dress, one you would have cried happy tears over if it were for any other reason than marrying him. The sweetheart neckline is adorned with real amethysts that cascade in a light gradient down the bodice. The full skirt flares from the hip with small black roses embroidered along the hem. It's definitely not a traditional gown by any means. You'd almost wager to guess he had it custom-made. But, that seems a bit absurd considering the circumstances.

"As you say, Miss." Mai just nods and scoops up the dress when you step out of it. You know she'll probably have it put into a shadow box anyways. Perhaps that should bother you, but instead, you feel a small pang of gratitude for her putting up with your shit moods, this one included.

Half an hour later, you follow Wenton as he carries your suitcase down the stairs. Mai helped you pack. Or rather, she packed while you sat on your bed and sulked. You're not bringing much, just enough clothes for a week, a few essentials, and a book you doubt you'll actually read. Yoongi is taking you to a cabin in the mountains, one of the properties owned by the family. Mai was instructed to make sure your clothing was suited for snow, as the weather on the mountain is a bit unpredictable this time of year. It's still mild here in the valley, a chill in the air at night, but nothing beyond warranting a light jacket as the sun goes down.

Wenton loads your suitcase into the trunk space of the SUV waiting out front. Yoongi is standing by the backdoor scrolling through his phone. He gives you a quick glance before pulling open the door and waving a hand toward the interior.

Mai whispers a quiet 'goodbye' as you climb into the backseat. The door clicks closed behind you. It's not soundproof by any means, but still, you're only able to barely hear the conversation outside.

"You'll be expected back no later than next Monday," The Hitman barks from the doorway of the house. "We have a flight to Warsaw that we can't afford to miss."

Yoongi scoffs, but you're certain it's not loud enough to carry to his father. "Understood, sir," he calls a little louder.

The other door to the back pops open, surprising you. "Hey there, little mouse," a deep voice purrs. Just as your eyes go to the open door, Namjoon appears. Lightheadedness creeps over you as your heart begins to pound. "You're going to be good for my big brother, right?" Suddenly, he's looming over you, one knee pressed into the seat with a large palm against the driver's seat headrest. He chuckles darkly as you start to fumble for the door handle, trying to get it open and escape.

You nearly go tumbling out of the vehicle when the door snaps open, but you find yourself caught in Yoongi's arms instead. "Fuck off, Namjoon," he growls.

Namjoon turns his lips down into a mock pout. "I was just making sure your wife would be on her best behavior, brother. You know, uphold her wifely duties and all." He winks, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Get. Out." Yoongi snaps, still holding you against his chest.

Finally, Namjoon slides out of the vehicle. Before he closes the door, he gives Yoongi a look filled with so much violence that you're surprised blood isn't being drawn. "Don't make me have to have another little chat with you, Yoongi. Unlike you, I keep my promises." The door slams shut and Namjoon disappears from view.

"What is he talking about, Yoongi?" you ask into the quiet interior.

Yoongi shakes his head before helping you sit back up in the seat. He nudges you until you slide over and make room for him. Which is surprising. You thought he would be riding up front with Wenton, who is now sliding into the driver's seat.

"It's a long drive, we'll stop for dinner in about two hours. You should try to rest between now and then," Yoongi explains before promptly pulling out his phone and ignoring you again.

Dinner consists of drive-thru burgers and fries. You were hesitant to give your order, waiting for Yoongi to gripe about the carbs and saturated fats. But, he didn't say anything to you, just ordered his own burger and a vanilla milkshake.

Wenton is quiet the entire ride, only deeming to speak when spoken to by Yoongi. He listens to classical music on the radio so low you're barely aware of it unless you focus really hard. Yoongi continues to ignore you. After dinner, it's another three hours before Wenton pulls off onto a side road and the terrain changes.

Before long you're jostling in your seat, gripping the handle above the window, and trying not to smack your head against the glass as you peer into the darkness. The sun went down shortly after the stop for dinner, so it's pretty much impossible to make out anything that lines the road at this point.

"Is it safe to be driving on this road at night?" you venture to ask, feeling uneasy as the SUV crawls through a dip that sends your shoulder bouncing off the door.

"Wenton has driven the road many times, there is nothing to be worried about," Yoongi mumbles in response, still glued to his phone. "We'll be there soon anyway."

True to his word, maybe ten minutes later, the road evens out and you catch a glint of iron in the moonlight as Wenton drives through an open gate. The headlights illuminate the cabin as he pulls the SUV to a stop. It's not terribly big, but it looks cozy enough with large windows and a wrap-around porch.

"Do you think it'll snow?" you ask softly, silently praying he says 'no'. You hate the snow.

Yoongi opens his door, steps out, and then offers you his hand to help you down beside him. "Most likely," he finally responds, releasing your hand and turning towards the back of the SUV. Wenton already has the hatch door open, pulling out your suitcase. "Let's get inside and I'll show you around."

The inside of the cabin is much like you would expect. An open concept living room, kitchen, and dining room combo. There is a small mudroom off the kitchen. Through there, there is a door that leads outside and two interior doors. One opens up to a single bedroom where Wenton will be staying, the other to a bathroom that houses the washer and dryer, too.

A large river-stone fireplace takes up almost an entire wall of the living room. The couch and recliner look like they've been well-loved, their beige upholstery faded with use. The oak cabinets in the kitchen are stained a dark chestnut that matches the rugged bench-style dining table. It's a stark contrast to the house back at the estate. You love it.

Family portraits line the wooden staircase leading up to the second floor. You follow Yoongi up the stairs, he has both yours and his suitcases clutched in his hands. Just as you make it to the top of the stairs, one of the photos catches your attention. It's just like all the others, a candid shot of a happy family. You recognize The Hitman and the seven sons. It's clear the picture is old, as the boys don't even look to be more than in their early teens.

But, what really draws your attention is the woman in the photo. She's sitting on a wooden swing in what you recognize as the rose garden back at the estate. Her head is thrown back and her mouth is open wide in a laugh as Namjoon and Jungkook are frozen behind her with their arms extended like they just gave her a good push on the swing. The other sons are sprawled out on a checkered blanket off the side, in the middle of spreading out what looks like a picnic. The Hitman stands almost out of frame, his arms crossed as he looks down at the boys on the blanket. You study the picture, leaning in trying to get a better look at the woman. It's hard to make out her face due to the angle it's tilted back at.

"Yoongi, who-," your question about who she is cuts off abruptly when you turn and find Yoongi no longer in your sight. "Yoongi?" you call, hurrying up the last few steps and down the hall before you. "Where did you go?"

"In here." He pokes his head out from the last door on the left.

You jog down the hall, passing the other two doors in the hallway. Stepping into the room, your feet falter. "Holy shit," you whisper, taking in the view. The entire back wall of the room is floor-to-ceiling glass. There is a large four-poster king bed directly across from it, ensuring the first thing you'll see when you wake up is a view of the mountain and the river that winds behind the cabin. There is scant other furniture in the room, simple wooden bedside tables, and a cushioned chair beside the door leading to the bathroom and closet.

Yoongi's back is to you as he rolls both of the suitcases into the closet. "Just wait til the sun comes up in the morning. It's one of my favorite views," he comments absently. When he turns, the look on his face is one you've never seen before. He looks...sad.

"Is everything okay?" You don't expect him to tell you if there's something wrong, but it's natural for you to express concern for others.

The bedroom is only illuminated by a bedside lamp. It casts his profile in shadows as he closes the distance to you. He stops just a few inches short of you. This close, you're able to see the thin sheen of perspiration coating his forehead. "It will be," he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear. In a louder voice, "best get this over with."

"Get what over with?" Your words turn into a small gasp as his hands grip the bottom of your sweater and begin to pull it up. "Yoongi, wait. Can't we wait?" He continues trying to tug the top over your head. "Please!" You swat at his hands but they get tangled in the material as he finally pulls it over your head.

Your arms are yanked free and he tosses it to the side. Before you can take a step back and put space between you, his arms are locking you in place. The whooshing sound of your blood pounding echoes in your ears. It makes it hard to hear his words. "I know you hate me, I know you don't trust me. I get it, I expect nothing less. But, please, please, just trust me this once. I promise I'll explain, I promise I won't hurt you." You can hear the plea in his voice, the way it cracks with emotion as he makes that last promise. His lips are so close to your ear that they brush it with each word.

He's scaring you, the words just adding to the feeling. Finally loosening his hold, he puts a few inches between your bodies. "Yoongi, I...," you begin to question him but your words trail off when his eyes fill with anguish. His chin jerks just slightly, like he's wanting to shake his head no but stops himself. It's like he wants to say something but can't. There is no reason for you to trust him, he said as much himself. But, the ache that's been sitting in your chest for days now is turning into an ache of sympathy. There is clearly something going on with him, something he isn't able to express. It's a leap of faith, but you roll your lips between your teeth and finally try to relax. It's not like you didn't know this would be happening anyway.

Lifting one of his arms from around you, he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it up over his head, discarding it next to yours. You've never seen Yoongi without a shirt on. Surprisingly. Any time you found him in the pool room or he took you to the lake, he was wearing a rash guard top. Scars litter his chest and stomach. Some are faded, barely there, but others are thick and puckered, still pink like they're recent. You don't realize you're running your fingers over one across his chest until you feel him flinch away. "Don't," he whispers. "Come on," he takes the hand hovering over his chest and pulls you toward the bed.

His movements are slow, deliberately so. It's like he's trying to soothe you even though he's stripping your clothing off. With each article he removes, his fingers skim over your skin in feather-soft brushes. By the time you're completely naked, your body wears a coat of goosebumps instead. All you can do is stare at him, his eyes locked on yours, as he slips off the rest of his own clothes. For a moment you think maybe you should be the one to do that, but you can't seem to make your limbs function anymore. His throat contracts as he audibly swallows. If you didn't know any better you'd think he was nervous.

You don't even have to look down to know something is mildly wrong, but you do anyway. Just a quick flick of your eyes and you confirm it. He's not hard. You have a moment of panic, a self-conscious drop of dread that there's something wrong with your body. Though, you quickly realize it's not you, it's not that you're not attractive or that he doesn't like your body. You know he does, it's gotten him hard before. But, it's the anguish that is still evident in his face, the hollowness in his eyes. It's like he's not all here, his mind somewhere else outside of this bedroom.

What needs to happen obviously can't if things stay how they are. You reach out and cup him, trying to coax him into a state of arousal. "Is this okay?" you ask softly. Is this part of the choice Miriam talked about? His brows pinch together but he doesn't move to stop you. It works. You can feel him growing against your palm, the rise and fall of his chest quickens. His hand is suddenly on yours, halting you from going further. Maintaining eye contact, he reaches out and pulls back the sheets on the bed.

You crawl backwards onto the bed and he follows. There is a tremble to the way he moves like he's fighting not to shake like a branch in a windstorm. "Leave it on." He stops your hand from reaching out to the bedside lamp to turn it off. "I, uh, I ne-...want to see you." There is definitely something wrong. Warning bells are sounding in your head.

"Yoongi, what's-?" He cuts your question of concern off with a finger to your lips.

He gives you a look that only lasts a brief second, but in that second you see his vulnerability. Gone is the monster from last night. The man you stood across from in the gazebo just hours ago has disappeared, in his place is a scared and lost soul. You begin to shake your head and push away from him, intending to get out of the bed.

"Stay," he barks, the tone reminiscent of the man you just thought lost. Yoongi grips your ankles and pulls them until you're laying flat on your back before him. Like donning a mask, the vulnerability and anguish from before are covered with cold indifference. Oddly, he leans back and casts a glance over his shoulder, his head angled like he's glancing into the far corner of the room. He brings his attention back to you and sucks in a sharp breath that he lets ease out slowly. "Touch me," he offers, settling back on his heels between your spread thighs and gesturing down.

When you hesitate, he grabs up one of your hands and presses it to his half-hard length. A soft strangled sound leaves his chest and his lips twist up in what looks like disgust. Despite how much his face says he doesn't like it, he grows hard all the same. He's still guiding your hand, forcing your fingers to squeeze around him, to the point you're sure it's causing him pain. Is he punishing himself? The thought disappears just as quickly as it came, your focus being drawn to the fingers of Yoongi's free hand skirting up along your inner thigh. You've experienced so much whiplash within the span of the last few minutes that your body isn't even sure how to respond. There is no arousal, no tingling sensations or warm fuzzies. Just confusion. It's even more confusing when Yoongi presses two fingers just mid-knuckle deep into you, gives them a small circling, then withdraws them and rubs his fingers on the sheets just below your ass.

He's suddenly pulling your hand away and dropping his weight onto you, propping up on an elbow and fitting his hips between your thighs. "Yoongi, wait, I'm not ready. Please, kiss me or something," you mumble, your hands skirting over his arms and pressing against his chest. He doesn't move, or speak, he just grabs a handful of the sheets and pulls them up over his own hips, covering you both from the waist down. His breath shudders from his chest, his hand that's still between your bodies hooks under your knee and lifts your leg until your thigh practically rests on your stomach. With more shifting of his hips, you mash your eyes closed and try to brace for what you know will come next, but they fly open in even more confusion. Instead of feeling his cock probing your sex, you feel the velvety skin slide along your thigh before lodging itself in the gap between your thigh and stomach. "What are you-?" His hand clamps over your mouth, effectively silencing your confusion.

Yoongi leans in so close you feel his warm breath stir the hairs around your ear. "I said trust me." His hips subtly shift, rocking a little from side to side. He works his free hand from between your bodies and slides it under the pillow beneath your head. You can faintly make out the sound of something sliding against the sheets as he draws his hand back out. You're both breathing so loud, you're sure you would have missed it if it wasn't right by your head. Something cold presses against the underside of your thigh, surrounded by the warmth of Yoongi's hand, like he's palming something to your skin. "Do you know what this is?" he whispers, just as close as before. You focus on the feeling of it, the shape of it pressed into your skin. It almost feels like a...your eyes go wide and press back into the pillow until you can meet his gaze. His hand is still firmly pressed over your mouth so it's hard to shake your head, but you do vehemently. Not saying you don't know what it is, but saying please don't use it. Because you definitely know the elongated and rounded-edged feel of the hilt to his pocket knife. His hips pull back, you almost forgot the fact he had wedged his cock between your thigh and stomach, just a bit. He dips back down until his lips brush your ear, then simultaneously he removes his hand from over your mouth, clicks the button to extend the blade on his knife, and whispers, "scream for me," as he snaps his hips forward.

Shock, confusion, fear. One of those drives the sound from your throat, a shrill screech rending the air. It's like you're watching everything happen from across the room, it's so surreal. It takes you a moment to realize the blade of the knife is only pressed flat-edge down against your thigh instead of piercing your skin. To add even more to the odd sensations, his cock is moving against your stomach and thigh, his hips working like he's fucking. "What the fuck?"

"Shut up," he snaps into your ear with a low hiss. "Make it believable, they have to believe it. Spit in your hand and help me out," his voice turns into a soft plea, breaths panting between his words into your ear. Rearing back just a fraction, putting about an inch between your bodies, he gives you a look to accompany his plea. It's the softness in his eyes, the way his lips are slightly parted, and the pinch between his brows.

You find yourself spitting into your palm and sliding it between your bodies to grip his length. He pumps a few times, letting you work the moisture into his length before he grunts and jerks his chin up like he's dismissing your hand. None of this makes any sense, but the more that happens, the more the pieces start to fall into place. He's faking this. For some reason unknown to you, he's faking it...and he wants, no-...needs, you to play along. They have to believe it? His words from a moment ago are just now registering. "Yoongi?" His name comes out on a rasp as your eyes frantically flick around the room. Did someone come in while you weren't paying attention?

The hand that was covering your mouth slips into your hair and pulls your attention back to him. "Stay with me, princess, focus on me." He nods, eyes open and pleading for your understanding. You only manage a small, almost imperceptible nod. Relief flicks across his features before they morph back into a careful mask of indifference. He turns his head to the side, his chin dipping down to his shoulder like he's looking back toward the other side of the room again.

It becomes sort of a dance, a mockery of intimacy. Each time his hips snap forward, shoving his length between your thigh and stomach you feign pain, crying out or thrashing under him. He grunts out his own displeasure, calling you names and even going so far as to place his hand around your throat though he doesn't apply any pressure. The knife is still pressed against your thigh, a small reminder that anytime you need it, he can still hurt you, that maybe he still intends to. It's hard to think he's capable, considering what he's doing...faking this.

You rewet him a few times, trying to help ease the pass of his cock against your skin. All thoughts of arousal for you have gone out the window, you're solely focused on keeping up this illusion for however long is needed. You wish you knew what was going on, why the need for the theatrics. Wouldn't it have just been easier to do the real thing? You're trying to reason out the possibilities when there is a shift in Yoongi's demeanor. His eyes are shuttered closed, brow pinched tight, and his hips are losing their rhythm. "Please," you plead in a faux attempt to stop him, but you tighten the space he's pistoning into instead, encouraging him with your body.

"One more scream, princess," he grunts into the side of your neck. You can feel slick sweat from his forehead smearing onto your shoulder as he tilts his head down, bowing his body. You open your mouth to give him your best impression of a fearful yelp but it turns into a full-blown tearful bellow as he presses the tip of the knife against your thigh. It's just a small prick, but it stings. You grit your teeth and slap at his arm but you might as well be just a fly for as much as he pays attention to you.

The knife leaves your skin and you can feel a warm wetness bubble up. It's like a shock to the system, adrenaline pumps through your veins and you break out in a cold sweat. He actually cut you. You had thought the knife was just a pretense, something to get you to play along. A flare for the dramatic, sure, but you didn't honestly expect him to use it on you. He gives one last heaving grunt, his hips pulling back before another rush of warm wetness is on your body. You feel his fingers wipe across the small knick on your thigh before it smears across your core, mixing your blood with his cum. He had to fake it. The cold reality of that hits you like an ice block to the chest. The blood, the cum, it's all part of the act.

Yoongi finally heaves himself off your body, throwing back the blankets that were covering you. You catch the faintest glimmer of metal as he pushes the knife further under the blankets and out of sight. His gaze is locked between your thighs, drawing your own attention there. It's not as bad as you imagined in your head. There is far more cum than blood, just a soft swirl of pink and red. You can see that he rubbed it on himself, too, red dots his pelvis and pink-tinged moisture coats his now spent cock. You drop your knee, noticing the subtle chaffing blush on your skin where he fucked it.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think the sight between the two of you represents what you'd have expected it to be. But, it's not. For a reason still unknown to you. A reason you'll soon know, you'll demand it. He said he would explain and you're not going to let him go without doing so. "What-?" For what seems like the hundredth time tonight, he cuts off your questioning. All he does is raise his hand, palm out toward you, in a request of silence.

"Get cleaned up," he says to you, rolling his shoulders back. As he shifts his weight to throw a leg over your hips so he can roll out of the bed, he leans forward and whispers, "meet me out by the river." He's already sliding off the bed by the time his words truly register.

Yoongi grabs his jeans and pauses for a moment, glancing toward the far side of the room, then disappears into the bathroom. A moment later he's walking out, jeans on and snagging his sweater off the floor before exiting the room. You're left there, in a growing pool of wetness as the cum and blood mixture drips down your ass and onto the sheets.

Mind still reeling, you make your own way out of the bed, snatch up your clothes, and head into the bathroom to clean up. There is a small first-aid kit and fresh washcloth sitting on the sink. There is an already wet cloth discarded into the wicker hamper beside the sink. You clean up in a daze. Those puzzle pieces that were falling into place don't seem to fit nearly as nicely as you were starting to think. There is an ugly truth being revealed here, one you're not sure you want to know. The small cut on your thigh is mostly superficial, like Yoongi's intention was only to draw the smallest amount of blood that he could. It hardly requires a bandaid, having already clotted. You add a small one just for good measure, not wanting your jeans to scratch and irritate it.

By the time you exit the bathroom, Wenton is in the room, stripping the sheets from the bed. "Oh, shit!" You jump back in surprise, not expecting to see anyone, much less him, standing there.

"Sorry, Miss," he mutters, continuing with his task. "Just going to change the linens for you."

A queasiness settles into your stomach thinking about what's on those sheets. For a moment you think about the pocketknife. You step forward, intent on telling Wenton to watch himself, but you catch a glint of metal out of the corner of your eye and see the knife sitting on the bedside table like it was never anywhere else to begin with.

You can't make it out of the room fast enough. Flying down the stairs, you make a beeline for the mudroom and door to the patio out back. Cold air slaps you across the face, helping to cool your heated cheeks. You hadn't realized how flustered seeing Wenton wadding up the soiled sheets made you until now.

There is a winding stone path that leads down to the river. This stretch of the water is wide, serene as it meanders through the mountain. Yoongi has told you many stories about this cabin, about how all the boys would dare one another to swim across. The river isn't very dangerous here, but you know just down the way and around a bend it turns into rushing rapids that bleed into several rocky waterfalls. If you listen closely, you can hear the rush of water over stone in the distance, like a hushed whisper of darkness.

With no city lights nearby, the light pollution is next to nonexistent, leaving the stars and fat, near-full moon to shine brightly overhead. You catch the silhouette of Yoongi against the shine of the moon on the water. His back is to you as you approach the end of the stone path.

He turns toward you, waiting until you're right in front of him before he reaches out and begins to pat down your pockets.

"What are you doing?" You try to take a step back but he snags a hand in your sweater, stopping you from retreating.

"Your phone, it's inside?" he asks, bringing his eyes up to yours. You give a nod and he finally releases you.

You do take a step back now, putting a bit more space between the two of you. "Now, are you going to explain?"

He takes a deep, slow breath. "First, I want to apologize," his voice is soft but carries over the softer burbling from the water just a few feet away. He crosses his arms over his chest, his face unreadable in the dim light. "Second, I want to thank you for going along with...that," he flicks his fingers back towards the house before shoving them back into the crook of his elbow.

"What exactly was that?" you push, mirroring his cross-armed stance. Yoongi opens his mouth to speak but then his teeth click shut and his lips form a thin line. "No, you don't get to shut me out this time, Yoongi. Fucking. Speak. Now."

He lets out a frustrated grunt, his arms unfolding so he can mash the heels of his palms against his eyes. He grinds them before his hands slide down his face like he's trying to wipe away his stubborn hesitancy.

"There are things, big things, that you have no idea about," he begins. "Things that are bigger than both you and I. This," he gestures between the two of you, "is just a small piece of a much bigger, and darker picture. What I did in there, what we did in there, was for you."

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. "Keep going."

"We're married, it's what's expected...it's what they expect to happen, regardless of whether or not you want it. I've done nothing but fight on your behalf the last year. Relentlessly working toward a way to make things different. But, my hands are tied, have been tied...by that bastard." Yoongi begins to pace, shoving his hands in his pockets. "There are cameras everywhere, tracking devices, your phone," he gives you a quick glance before resuming his pacing, "we're both being watched. If I didn't make it seem like it happened, then we'd both be in big trouble."

"Why fake it? Why not just do it?" He's still not giving you the answers you need, he's holding back.

His face is pinched when he looks back at you. "I didn't want your first time to be like that," he whispers. "I couldn't take that from you, not like that."

"I don't understand."

Yoongi huffs another sigh. "I'm going to start from the beginning, I'll try to explain the best I can, okay?" You nod, relaxing back on the heels of your boots. "I never expected to have a happy or love-filled marriage, that's just not part of the deal when it comes to these things, right? But, I did try, in the beginning...and after a while, I started to care about you. Then...Namjoon came back from that assignment in Tokyo and everything changed."

The fact he's bringing up Namjoon throws up a red flag for you. "What does Namjoon have to do with this?"

"Everything." The word is so quiet you barely catch it. "He has everything to do with this. He's the one watching, he's the one that Wenton has been instructed to send our bedsheets to for testing, he's the one that forced me to be a monster to you, he's the one who has threatened your life if I don't make it a living hell," he finishes on a whisper, his voice thick with emotion.

Each new revelation is like a punch to the gut. "But why?" you sputter. What the actual fuck? You know Namjoon is an evil man, but what on earth did you do to earn his scorn to the point of death?

"It's not you, not really." Yoongi stops his pacing and comes to stand before you. He untangles your arms and clasps your hands in his. "While Namjoon was in Tokyo he found out something, something that derailed him." There is a sadness in his eyes as he continues, "What I'm about to tell you won't make you happy, but please know that it's true and I have proof if you need it."

He waits for you to acknowledge his words. "Okay," you agree, chewing your bottom lip, suddenly filled with trepidation.

"Your father is the reason our mother died."

Air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Please, I said it wouldn't make you happy, but you need to trust me. You wanted an explanation, this is it." His tongue darts out and wets his lips. "My mom was in love with your dad before she was forced into an arranged marriage with my father. They couldn't have children of their own, so that's why they adopted. She was always so happy on the outside, full of laughter and smiles. We lost her seven years ago. Father said it was an accident, she slipped and fell down the stairs. We were all away, either in school or working. We never got to see her body, just the blood in the foyer before it was cleaned up."

"They were in love at one point. So what? All of this just sounds like an excuse for you and your family to do shitty things."

Yoongi gives your hands, still held in his, a small squeeze. "Just, let me explain. They continued to see one another even after they both married. Your mother was just as unaware as my father, at least, as far as I know, she was. When Namjoon was in Tokyo, he came across some old files that had my mom's name on them. Her death nearly destroyed him, what he found was the last straw needed. The files lead to a small apartment, old and abandoned. It was filled with some of her things, bottles of her perfume, along with men's cologne and suits. Tucked away in a small box were two letters. One was a suicide letter, addressed to your father. The writing is unmistakably my mother's. The other was a letter signed by your father to our mother, essentially ending their near twenty-year tryst. My mother was heartbroken, so she took her own life."

A shiver runs through you, one not from the cold air seeping beneath your sweater. "I don't know what to say," you whisper, blinking back the emotion threatening your lash line. It's the whiplash from the bedroom all over again. He's treated you so horribly over the last year, all for what? Because Namjoon is holding some sort of grudge for something you had no part in...is that really a good enough reason? Part of you is melting with sympathy, begging your mind to wrap around this as an act of kindness; the lesser of two evils. But, another part of you is disgusted and outraged that Yoongi didn't bring this to your attention much sooner. Instead of making you aware of what was happening and making a plan with you, Yoongi took it upon himself to play into Namjoon's hands, let his strings be pulled, and turn him into a macabre puppet of some kind. "Did the proposal even have anything to do with how you've acted? Or was that just a coincidence?"

"That was me...all me. I thought I could use that as a way to get you out, a way to speed up the process. I thought, maybe if you said yes and had shown a desire to get married sooner, then dad would have allowed it and we would have been out of the house and away from Namjoon, giving me more space to be able to come up with a better plan. The anger from your denial was real, that was me...acting like an insensitive jerk being rejected by the pretty girl." He at least looks ashamed, the way his cheeks pink a little and his brow scrunches. "I never should have taken my frustrations out on you, but it made the transition into my compromise with Namjoon seem authentic on the outside. Everyone thought I was lashing out because of that, so no one suspected anything different."

"So, no one else knows...about any of this?"

"No one. Wenton knows a little, he knows he needs to do what Namjoon requests, but no more than that. My father doesn't know, won't know. Namjoon doesn't want him to know because he's worried he'll take matters into his own hands in regards to you. He came directly to me. He wanted to take you away, make you suffer for what your father did. I tried to make him see reason, that the sins of the father couldn't be blamed on the daughter. He wouldn't listen, so I finally compromised with him. I agreed to make your life a living hell, make you suffer, as long as he kept away. The more I push you, the more I hurt you, the more satisfied he is with keeping you alive...if only to see you hurt more. I've tried everything, ignoring you, leaving you for weeks on end, but every time I was gone for too long or spent too many days letting you live in peace, he'd swoop in and remind me of his threat," his voice breaks. "I've spent the last year protecting you from a different kind of evil...but, I don't know how much more I can take. I don't know how many more days I can look into your eyes and see hate staring back at me. So, I've been working on a plan to get you away from here...to finally set you free."

Freedom. Is that even possible? For that matter, is Yoongi even telling the truth?

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to chapter list

◅ Back to Master List ©️ 2022-08-30 ColorMePurplex2

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

There's something so fcked up about Bakugo being a hero AND one of the main characters with his nasty attitude and that bullying he never fully grew out of.

It really sends the wrong message, if you think about it, to anybody that may be in a toxic relationship that resembles that of Bakugou and Deku. As a kid I used to be absolute garbage with this one other kid, and watching BNHA at that time made me believe I was right and validated my behavior, since "this hero was also like that and he never got any consequences, so why should I??" Not the best message to give a kid with behavioral issues 💀💀💀💀

Thankfully I got help, stopped being a d*ck, grew out of it, and started giving steps to mend our relationship (and thankfully the other person was open and receptive to that), but BNHA sure as hell didn't help make me realize that what I was doing was wrong.

I legit thought—I'm not kidding—'he's a hero and he's doing the same stuff as me, so he must be in the right. And nobody ever says anything to him/calls him out on it, so that's just proving my point (that he's right)'. It was. Yeah. 💀

TLDR; Bakugou you're awful and I hate you with all my heart

First off, I’m really happy about your self growth 😊. I wish you the best 🙌

Secondly, I 100% agree. Katsuki sends awful messages to viewers. Let’s look at all the “consequences” he received for his behavior:

Suicide baiting Izuku: nothing. Even though his own goons call him out on it, nothing happens and it’s completely hand waved away.

Kicking that water bottle and getting trapped by a sludge villain: how the hell was he supposed to know that a stupid bottle had a villain inside of it? And that wasn’t even him doing anything wrong.

Sabotaging Izuku’s score on the Quirk Apprehension Test: nothing.

Nearly killing Izuku in the first battle trial: only told to grow up, but is also complimented.

Savagely beating Ochako: heroes call him out, but then “Mr. Always Right” Shota makes them look like fools despite them being right.

Being chained in the Sports Festival: Caused by his behavior, but the fact it leads the villains to want to kidnap him isn’t his fault as they thought he was victimized by society. Also who the hell chains up a child? I believe he should be locked behind bars, but U.A isn’t a prison and he was only chained cause he was being violent, not for his other behavior.

Getting less offers than Shoto: still gets to work with the Number 4 Hero.

Smacking Izuku and trying to fight All Might on his own: still passes the exam despite getting his shit rocked. Hanta meanwhile fails despite doing far more in his fight.

Being a dumbass and rushing the villains, which leads to his kidnapping: Again, not his fault he was kidnapped and even if he played it safe, there was a good chance he would’ve been kidnapped anyways. After all, the LoV had powerhouses such as Moonfish (who was kicking his ass), Muscular (who’s strong enough to eat blows from OFA), Dabi (who has flames hotter than Endeavor), and Twice (who can clone anyone he touches. He most likely would’ve been kidnapped anyways, but his dumbass didn’t make anything easier.

Failing his Hero License Exam: isn’t alone in that plus he gets it in like a month anyways. He even gets praised by the test scorers several times and gets to show off his fake growth.

Kacchan vs Deku 2: Katsuki gets put on house arrest, but so does Izuku, ya know, the person he dragged out to fight. Not only that, but he also misses out on getting stomped by Mirio AND gets to be a part of Izuku’s secret.

Stabbing Izuku with his costume to the point of brain matter flowing out of him: no one calls him out. It’s played as a “haha” moment.

Him completely misunderstanding Izuku when he went solo and delivering that horrid speech before apologizing: narrative makes him out to be in the right.

Such consequences are basically non-existent or aren’t a direct result of Katsuki’s behavior. As you mentioned yourself, if anything, Katsuki’s behavior ends up being validated, which in turn leaves other people to believe their behavior is validated. It’s a sickening message in a story about heroes.

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Can't Help Falling In Love Chapter 1: Hemingway

Synopsis: As Y/N prepares for his wedding, he receives an unexpected surprise from his bride-to-be.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Y/N

Characters: Y/N, Tony Stark, Laura Barton

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of alcohol, fluffy fluff fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

“Shit,” Y/N said as he yet again failed to tie his bowtie.  YouTube made it look so easy.  Fold this, make a knot here, add a loop-de-loop, push this end through that and presto!  The men in these videos, however, weren’t accounting for one thing: wedding day jitters.  Shaky hands and a lingering sense of anxiety and pressure made even the simplest of tasks all the more difficult.  He undid the floppy, lopsided bow and attempted to try again.

“You know, for someone who’s getting married in an hour, you look extremely unhappy.”

Y/N jumped.  He was so focused on getting his bowtie perfect (which it wasn’t) that he hadn’t noticed Tony looming behind him in the mirror.  

“Jesus!” Y/N exclaimed.  “Don’t do that!”

“Not too late to back out if you want.  Wait another hour and it’s going to get massively more expensive to say no.  Either way you’re a dead man, but it’s better to die debt-free than owing god knows what in legal fees.”  He was shockingly casual as he tied Y/N’s bowtie.  Y/N resigned himself to the indignation of being unable to tie his own tie on this wedding day, allowing his arms to hang limply by his side as Tony Stark tied his bowtie for him.

“Thanks…I think?”

“Thank me now, thank me later, all I can say is: you’re welcome.”  He straightened the bowtie and patted Y/N’s shoulders.  “Bit nervous I see.  Cold feet?”

Y/N sighed.  “No, not cold feet.  I mean yeah, I’m terrified, but I’m going to marry her.”  He smoother the front of his vest.  “Little late to back out now, isn’t it?” he chuckled.

“You’ll be fine.  Just remember, shoot me a nod and I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. create a diversion so you can slip out through a suit.  Either that or, gee I don’t know, I’ll think of something.  Drop my papers, throw the rings, object to the wedding myself.”

“Yeah, umm…I think we’ll be good there, Tony, but thanks for the offer.”

“Alrighty then, guess I’ll head out.”  He dropped his voice to an almost whisper.  “Told Laura I’d finish hanging the lights up in the barn before everyone got here.  Don’t want to upset the taskmaster.”  He motioned with his hand like he was cracking an imaginary whip.  “Need anything before I go?  Snack?  Dental floss?  Liquid courage?”  He pulled a small silver flask from his inside jacket pocket.

“Nah, I’m good,” Y/N said as he shook his head.  “Thanks, though.”

Tony took a swig from his flask.  “Oh well, more for me,” he grinned.  He leaned to the right and craned his neck to peer out the window.  “I don’t see her out there…hopefully she’s not looking for me.  But what the hell, no one’s gonna notice if there’s fairy lights or not, right?”  He turned and headed for the bedroom door.

“Hey Tony?”  Tony turned and looked over his shoulder, eyebrows cocked.

“Mmmm?”

“I, uhh, I just wanted to say, well, thanks.  Thanks for doing this.  It…it means a lot to me, umm, us.  It means a lot to us.  So thank you.”

Tony smiled.  “You might want to wait until after my speech at the reception to thank me because there’s a good chance you’ll change your mind after that.”

“Oh, I’m sure Wanda will be thrilled,” Y/N retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Absolutely.”  With that Tony left.  Y/N chuckled to himself, shaking his head.  Leave it to Tony to be his usual, quasi-annoying self on someone else’s wedding day.  His musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Must’ve forgotten some other quip he wanted to make, he thought.  But it wasn’t Tony at the door.  It was Laura.

“Hi Y/N!  Sorry to bother you, but have you seen Tony?” she asked.  She was already dressed for the wedding in a stunning green dress, but she vowed to work until the last possible moment to ensure that Y/N and Wanda had the most perfect wedding day ever.

“Yeah he was just here but he left.  I’m not sure where he was going, but he kept talking about avoiding both you and some fairy lights.”

Laura sighed as she brought her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose.  “Yeah, that sounds about right…Alrighty, thanks anyways.”  She began to shut the door but stopped abruptly.  “Oh, geez, I almost forgot what I came here for.  Wanda wanted me to give this to you.”  She handed him a small white envelope.  He grabbed the envelope and looked at it quizzically.

“What is it?” he wondered aloud.

“Something you’re going to want to hold on to for a long time,” she said as she tenderly placed a hand on his shoulder.  “I’m really happy for you two, Y/N.  Today’s going to go by so fast, so just remember to stop, take a breath, and just live in the moment.  You two have your whole lives ahead of you.  And if there’s one piece of unsolicited marriage advice Clint and I could give you, it’s to remember that you are each other’s best friend.  The way you two love each other will change as you grow older, but if you remember that she is your best friend through it all you two will make it through anything that comes your way.  And have fun, have so much fun together.  You’re young, you’re in love, this is one of the best chapters of your life.”  Laura smiled.  “Sorry, look at me getting all sentimental,” she sniffled.  “But go read it!  We’ve still got an hour until the ceremony and I know you two want to do a first look beforehand, so someone will come get you in about half an hour, okay?”  Y/N nodded.  “Well okay, I’ll go find Tony, you go read that,” Laura gestured to the note in Y/N’s hand as she spoke.  She left the room, carefully closing the door as she exited.

Y/N sat down at the foot of the bed.  He examined the envelope carefully, looking at it with the wonder of a newborn baby.  Envelopes were common items.  He stuffed official Avengers reports into them on an almost daily basis.  Yet this was different.  It was from Wanda to him on their wedding day.  That made it different.  It was more personal, more intimate.  It was meant for him and him alone.  He smiled, thinking of how much love and care his soon-to-be wife poured into such a simple yet meaningful gesture.  Writing wasn’t something that came easily to her.  Feelings yes, but actually articulating those feelings on paper no.  Words, poetry, prose…that was more of his thing.  It’s not something that helped him with the Avengers, but Wanda found that side of him fascinating and romantic.  Taking extra care to not tear the envelope, he opened it and removed the folded stationery paper from inside.  Opening the note, he began to read:

Dear Y/N,

In a few short hours we’ll be married and headed off on our honeymoon as husband and wife.  I cannot believe this day is finally here!  It feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life to marry you.  Even though we’ve been together forever we have the rest of our lives to go and I get to spend it with my best friend!  I promise to be yours if you promise to be mine.  I love you to the ends of the earth and back, my darling Hemingway, and I’ll never let go.

Love Always, 

Your Wanda

PS. I found this idea on Pinterest and thought it would be so cute :)

That did it.  That sent him over the edge.  Every single emotion he was feeling about finally marrying Wanda Maximoff was hitting him all at once.  He sobbed.  He was grateful he was alone and he continued to sob.  How was it possible to love another human being this much?  She was everything to him and so much more.  She knew that, of course, but he wanted her to know that right now.  He frantically looked around the room.  It was one of the guest rooms in Clint and Laura’s safe house in the middle of nowhere.  He spied the small desk in the back corner of the room which was nestled in between the wardrobe and the window.  Shuffling through the contents of each drawer he rummaged until he found an unused ‘Happy Birthday’ card, a matching envelope, and a green gel pen.  It’s not exactly what I wanted, but I think she’ll still appreciate the gesture, he thought.  Y/N sat at the small desk as sunlight and the muffled sounds of last minute wedding preparations poured through the window.  Uncapping the pen, he crossed out the word ‘birthday’ and wrote ‘wedding’ right above.  He chuckled.  He pictured Wanda reading the front of the card and giggling at her fiance's lack of preparation.  Pen tapping against the desk and leg anxiously bouncing up and down, he began to write to his beloved.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Palm Springs (2020)

Palm Springs is a consistently funny, well-executed time-loop comedy full of unexpected depths. I’d seen it before, called it one of my favorite movies of 2020 but was a little hesitant when my coworkers suggested we watch it together. A movie this good I don’t want to watch over and over; I want to space out my viewings so I can forget the little details and re-capture some of the surprise I got the first time. My apprehension was unfounded, as it proved just as good on a rewatch. You don’t know what you’re getting into when you step into this movie.

On November 9, in Palm Springs, Sarah (Cristin Milioti) is shocked when Nyles (Andy Samberg) - a complete stranger - gives a touching speech at her sister’s wedding. While everyone celebrates, they connect privately. The next morning, Sarah wakes up. It’s still November 9th. Nyles has been stuck in a time loop. Every morning, he wakes up and it’s November 9th. Now, it's happening to Sarah too.

You expect a certain kind of humor from this concept. Nyles has done it all so he knows exactly what dance moves everyone will pull during the wedding reception - it makes him move on the floor like no one else could - and his time in the loop has made him so nonchalant about stuff like death it’s hilarious. That’s all well done but the big laughs come from his pairing with Sarah. She’s new to this, so he has to do his best to explain to her everything he already knows about this time loop, to no avail. It gets funnier when she accepts her fate and decides to make the best of it. With their life free of consequences, they pull elaborate pranks on the wedding guests, spring expertly coordinated and rehearsed dances “out of nowhere” and find endless ways to mess around and have a good time.

With excellent performances by Andy Samberg and Cristin Milloti - who have terrific chemistry, it’s easy to think this will be a nice, breezy rom-com that eventually gets solved when…. I dunno. The two declare their love for each other and break the time-loop spell or something? but there's more to the movie. Nyles has been stuck in the time loop for so long this is his life now. While everything may reset every day, it’s a vacation that will never end. He never has to work. He can do whatever he wants and never suffer the repercussions. Nothing he does matters, and he sees it as a good thing. Every morning he wakes up in a relationship with a woman who’s cheating on him (Meredith Hagner as Misty) but he doesn’t care. In fact, he likes it. If he ever wants sex, he knows what to say to her and on the days where he finds Misty intolerable, he’ll befriend someone else at the party. What’s there not to love about this perpetual Palm Springs? As he falls for Sarah, it feels as though things have just gotten better… but they aren’t, because she’s not like him. Breaking free from the time loop could be synonymous with that stage in a relationship where you move in together, meet each others’ parents, or get married. Moving forward is scary, it carries risks, but without those risks, what's the point? Sarah understands that the uncertain is what makes life living. The way our protagonists grow and the realizations they make along the way is often upsetting, which compliments the hilarity wonderfully. This is the kind of movie you can watch over and over and always find some new detail that makes you see just how well-written it is.

Palm Springs starts off as raunchy fun and then comes at you from the side with the heavy emotions. The blend is so smooth you look back and are surprised you didn’t see it coming. It packs so much into its story and characters you’ll be shocked it only lasted 90 minutes. This is a refreshingly romantic and uproarious movie - a new favorite for everyone who sees it. (September 16th, 2021)

[casinoquartet]

[long] U TURNED ON ASKS YIPPEE!!! hi i’m that recent anon, i love ur posts so much :))) thank you for everything, and the fic you linked was incredible! that facet of swagdoons in which red is so so painfully genuinely in true love with ash, under all the layers of power plays, through the real pain of each and every one of ash’s betrayals… i will die!!!! and thank you (& your friends) for posting about the casino quartet, i am soooo thankful for the introduction to the best polycule ever. one thing i love about the casino quartet is how clown and branzy are obnoxiously public (people know so many details that they really did not need to know) (hence people feel so confident that they’re genuinely devoted & reliant on each other that they’ll try to use one against the other) (prime example: the season 3 obsidian trap), while ash and red are obnoxiously private (no one understands what the fuck is ever going on between them) (no one knows how to manipulate their dynamic, no one can properly account for their incomprehensible relationship while trying to strategize) (prime example: boosfer’s phobias video). i like to imagine that clownzy are the closest people to the internal workings of swagdoons (they see the domestic arguments & the intimacy behind closed doors, listen to their private rants about each other, were present for some of the loaded swagdoons history that ash and red don’t even really talk about themselves). also i watched zam’s first stream of the hardcore smp yesterday [8/21/2022] and i find it so funny how ash will bring up clownzy and clown will bring up swagdoons. (ash announces he’s going to recite “the bible: part 2” and reads aloud a clownzy angst fanfiction; clown says in the middle of a formal meeting that red should sit on ash’s lap because they’re swagdoons). why are they always like this. and idk if you feel much interest in the latest season of the kaboodle smp but i’m really hoping for some clown x ash homosexualities, to fill out the casino quartet dynamics. as of now, we’ve got clown immediately showing vaguely gay interest towards ash, the mysterious teleporting guy in a suit who violently glitched into a server-wide campfire meeting out of nowhere. (clown: “ooh, who are you~?” ash, who otherwise doesn’t show interest in anyone or anything besides gaining riches: “…where do i know you from?”) (ash: teleports in, kills someone’s pet cat, teleports out. everyone, rightfully: WHAT THE FUCK?! clown: shocked delighted laughter.) (everyone is stuck unable to interact with ash, who keeps ignoring all conversation to ask for valuables. but clown swiftly catches on to ash’s rhythm and uses an emerald to try to bribe ash to follow him & tell him his name, as if ash is a cat. it somewhat works.) (after ash leaves, clown tells the others that he’ll “keep an eye on” the new stranger, who will be “safe in [his] hands”.) i watched this all go down from our beloved ivorycello’s POV [7/1/2023]. anyway uh. hiiii and thank you & all you other regular swagdoonsers on tumblr for the friendly reception :) i’m so excited for lifesteal season five plotlines. for some reason i’ve been Thinking about the intro to season 5 in which everyone gathers around in a circle waiting to start, ash sees this and places himself at the center to make an impromptu dramatic speech LOL, and red is the first to step in with him to tell him to go back to his spot. i’m choosing to imagine this as another instance of the god complex bf with enough power to back it up x the only guy who can rein him in and is bizarrely casual & familiar about it dynamic. ok i’m out ✌️ love you /p

[very long response under the cut]

HI ANON!!! glad that you enjoyed my post and the fic i recced in the tags!!! it’s one of my fav fics and your post Really reminded me of it so!!! i’m glad you enjoyed it!!!!! (loves reccing fics) me when reddoons and loyalty and how it plays into swagdoons . (<- i remember i made a post responding to something i found on lsheadcanons about vampire!ash and human!red that Could be used for a metaphor about swagdoons and loyalty . something something about red Literally fueling ash out of choice)

anyways!! WELCOME TO THE CASINO QUARTET ENJOYER GANG!!!! they r my absolute beloveds, god bless. and you’re SO RIGHT clownzy would do so much pda in public and be all mushy (but in the Worst times possible . i am talking about mushy flirting while they are being chased down by the authorities while ash and red are screaming at them to stop and focus on running away. anyways) but i think?? you’re referring to the trap where branzy is held ransom by purple duo and heh as to get clown to “save” him? but yeah . they’re always so closely associated with each other that even in small things (ex someone in the start of s5 warning someone that branzy “knows a guy” in reference to clown) and since branzy is the “weaker” of the two tbh i’m not surprised if someone holds branzy for ransom again this season (i’ve heard whispers of them teaming up again this season so !!!)

but even though there’s been a lot of acknowledgement by other cc’s, there’s not any. record of someone taking advantage of their relationship yet? like you said the closest thing is the one of them is lying video but like, that video was arguably where swagdoons showed their trust the Most (esp with cheating during spilt or steal . that was SO them) but. yeah the way their relationship is very subtle . there’s no real massive declaration of love but small moments (which. i think why there’s SO many swagdoons clips that r just small gestures but swagdoons enjoyers still go BONKERS over <- big enjoyer of their streams for that reason) (and as a result i associate the song “no big deal (i love you)” by dodie with them . a lot of the one is about not verbally saying i love you but. yk. the love is still there and strong . love that song in general so <3) but Yeah i do also like the idea that clownzy r one of the Only people who see swagdoons be domestic with each other in full . something something about casino quartet being domestic and trusting each other so much here willing to stop all of the facade and be vulnerable with each other

but LMAOOOOO that hardcore stream goes so hard . the bible part 2 caught me so off guard when i watched it like LMAO????? it’s fantastic . also in that same stream zam is like “the bible part 3: ash nd red were walking down the street” and swagdoons are INSTANTLY shutting him down and telling him to stop (this is a recurring thing for some reason apparently zam mentioned swagdoons during vidcon and got hit with a ball i response but also zam did say swagdoons made out in the dennys so ???? idk anymore) but ooooo i didn’t know about clown mentioning swagdoons . maybe i should check that out (i was only skimming through the void so…that is something for me to check out)

and i am watching kemp rn too! except i am only watching from ash’s pov, which is. a time for sure. he has already made a deal with god and figured out how to exploit his glitching thing. but ash WAS looking at clown when he teleported into the campground and defrost was like O_O at clown so. tbh i’m kinda excited to see where they go since they might have a “hold up…do i know you?” moment (and if ur interested there is a fic of them …….clown and ash my beloved) (and here’s the clown and ash meowing clip if you so desire . this clip is the clip of All Time) but hearing what the rest of the conversation with the ksmp members afterwards is INTERESTING when i just watched ash teleport away and go “i hate it here’ LMAOOO ……..that is interesting of clown though……..i wanna see them together more ……like an enclosure

AND S5!!!! i am so excited for s5 of them …..idk who’s pov you watched but in ash’s pov he Did mention wanting to team with branzy, red, and clown SOOOOOOOO ………. <- he also said this last season and that didn’t end up happening . i am going off of copium /silly

but i Do think swagdoons r gonna have a more power dynamic-y relationship this season esp with the whole free market stuff (and at least. according to red’s stream today he Said that lala legion were trying to look for camelot’s old base so…….. eyes emoji. what’s up with that) BUT YEAH!!!! lots fo exciting stuff bc i’ve also heard clownzy might team up again. …….. casino quartet nation is winning

IDK IF ANY OF THOSE RANTS MADE SENSE hopefully i didn’t miss anything and i was. semi on topic BUT !!! YEAH!!!!!! love u 2 anon /p ur asks r lovely :)

[bitchinbarzal]

It’s me.

I’m begging for a pt 2 for the nate fic you posted pls 🫶🏻🤍

I don’t have like a full fic in me so I’m hoping this will suffice!

part one

-

“I’m literally begging you not to embarrass me” Nate grumbled, fixing Michael’s tie.

“Dude, not gonna happen” Miles deadpans from the other side of the room “Mikey was like born to embarrass you”

Nate only groaned, taking Finn from Miles’ arms.

“Tell him Finny, tell uncle Mikey no embarrassing daddy”

Finn’s head just quirked to the side, no understanding whatsoever.

Mikey walked over, tickling Finn’s belly “Tell daddy, he embarrasses himself enough!”

Nate scowled at his best friend

“Okay let’s get this party started! There’s a pretty bride waiting for you!” Nico announced, barging into the room.

The day had gone by without a hitch, Finn hadn’t even cried. Done nothing but smile and clap in Madison’s lap all morning.

Come the reception, he was situated right in your arms taking a very well deserved nap.

When it came time for speeches, your parents along with Nathan’s made theirs all very basic “welcome to the family” style.

When it came Mikey’s turn he grabbed the mic

“First off, I wanna thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate the newly weds I know they’re extremely thankful for your presence with us!”

He bounced off one leg to another

“I know that at weddings we tend to talk about the good stuff, the love stuff but I want to talk about Nate and y/n’s break up”

Your eyes darted over to Nate who had an equally worried look on his face.

“Just a couple years ago, y/n and Nate broke up and it was… bad” he started, pulling a face to exaggerate his point.

“Nate cried…. A lot” you laughed at that.

Mikey chuckled too before continuing “and it was my wedding that brought them back together” he turned to you then added “You’re welcome”

“Thanks Bud!”

“When they were talking about getting back together, Nate came over to my place and said something to me that nobody knows until now” he paused for a moment

“Nate said to me the day after we arrived back in Jersey and they went to lunch and decided to work on their relationship ‘Man I’m so happy. I don’t know if I’ll ever be this happy again in my life, she’s mine and she wants me around even when I’ve done that to her she still wants to try again and I’m so happy this is my life, that she’s in my life - she makes me so happy’”

You looked at Nate, tears in your eyes and he just shrugged sheepishly.

“They got back together in October when the season started officially and you know very coincidentally popped out a baby about nine months after that day…. Weird” the crowd laughed and you smiled down at a sleeping Finn.

“I thought the day y/n took Nate back was the happiest he’d been until Finnley was born. Nate called me at like two or three in the morning to say they’d had a baby, he was here! but I picked up the phone to Nate crying and I’m immediately thinking the worst here… something has happened to the baby or y/n” your eyes were on Nate while Mikey spoke now.

“When he finally stopped crying he said to me ‘Mikey, man, y/n had our boy - I’m a dad. She’s made me a dad, man and I’m so in love with her, she’s amazing, I can’t believe she’s mine” Nate’s hand rubbed yours that was supporting Finn’s bottom, giving you a soft smile and you knew he was trying not to cry.

“Not every part of their story is really cute though! When they got engaged it was big woody’s birthday in jersey and Nate was really really drunk so he called y/n to pick him up. he was sick on her shoes outside the bar before he said “I love you so much my girl, please marry me and make me the happiest man-“ before he proceeded to throw up again on her. Your guess is as good as mine as to why she said yes when he asked again the following morning”

You sniggered and Nate hid his face, a blush settled across his cheeks

“What im trying to say is that, Nate and y/n are made for eachother and I couldn’t think of two more perfect people to be together in this life. Now everyone please raise a glass, to the Bastian’s!”

Later, when you were on the dance floor slow dancing with your husband your head lay on his shoulder and you said

“I’m really glad you held my hair back that night”

He chuckled and said “I’m so glad I’m insanely jealous and only came after you because I was scared you were hooking up with Ryan in the toilet”

Your head lifted and you gasped “Nathan Bastian!”

He laughed “What? You’re my wife now I’m allowed to be jealous”

“You’re lucky I love you!”

With a genuine smile he kissed you and said

“I’m so lucky to be loved by you, my angel”

[thematthewscrew]

“Would any of you be willing to talk about what your weddings were like? Was it a dream come true?”

It was everything I had dreamed about and then some. We got married on a beautiful sunny day in July, July 20th to be exact, the same day we’re having our renewal on. Our decorations were all greenery and white flowers with black and white accents. It was such an amazing ceremony filled with so much love followed by such a fun reception. I cried a lot during speeches but other than that the night was filled with so much laughter. After dinner it turned into a massive party. It felt like a club! I think we were up until like 4am that night. It was crazy! I managed to dig up some pictures from when we all jumped in the pool at the end of the night. That was a lot of fun too. Marrying Chase was one of the best days of my life and I am grateful for him every day.

Eve your wedding was absolutely beautiful!! and how should I say it the after party was "Lit" ?🤣 I didn't think my feet would ever recover from dancing so much. It was so much fun. I hope my toast didn't make you too weepy. I was so nervous😂-Shelby

@mayabrazton