#still a few days out but i saw this posted and thought i’d share

[andoutofharm]

Timing info for fob’s sets at good things fest! This is for december 1, 2, and 3.

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[scorpioriesling]

May I please politely beg for a fic based on the Eris bc post you did? It was so good and I’d love to see him confront Rhys + co and taking care/loving reader

I’m the “Bad Guy”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warnings: some graphic-ish injury

Summary: Eris Vanserra; he was your… what? Enemy? Ally? Both? Sort of — at least, that’s what Rhysand says, and whatever your High Lord says, goes. But, Eris saw you for more than anyone in your court ever could, and deep down you knew he had one more title, reserved for just you: true love. What happens when you’re in danger, and he’s the first and only one you go running to?

SR’s Note: Yes you absolutely can have a fic based on Eris’ HC in this post. No need to beg — I’m happy to oblige. Here it is, I hope you like it. xoxo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The fire crackled and burned in the fireplace, embers creating a soft glow in the darkened sitting room. Eris was alone, lounging on the sofa in the Forest House, his newest read in hand. He liked spending his time this way — alone, reading, warm. He felt… content.

Little did he know, you’d quite enjoyed your evenings the same way.

Sure, he knew you shared an interest in reading. That’s where he usually found you when he’d visit the Night Court — shelf combing in the library of the House of Wind; curled in a chair, a different book to read each time he would see you again; sometimes, you’d even be caught talking about your favorite ones with Nesta. You quite enjoyed her, as well as her company and character, as she was very honest and real with you.

Yet, another thing in you’d shared in common.

On this particular evening though, the sun had already long set and the stars were sprinkling the sky when Eris felt his body tense on instinct. He had suddenly lost interest in what he was reading when he heard a commotion coming from outside. Well, not a commotion, but rather some sort of… crying. Whimpering, rather. He straightened in his chair, straining his ears to hear what was happening beyond the windows of the Forest House.

Usually, when this happened, it was the work of Beron — some cruel or unusual punishment that Eris had learned long ago to stay out of. Recently, tensions were running high with the Night Court; though Eris was still secretly meeting with them, it didn’t change that his father wanted to sever all ties with the solar court completely.

But this… this time, it was different.

“Please… please…”

Eris’ heartstrings pulled in his chest as he strained to listen, wanting to make any excuse or reason for his ears to be deceiving him.

But, he knew in his heart, they were not.

In an instant, he’d snapped his novel shut and was racing toward the front door. He threw it open, rounding the corner of the house and bolting for the enormous hedge maze in the backyard of the grounds. He wasn’t sure exactly what had come over him; on any other day, he’d leave you to suffer as he would the other Night Court Inner Circle members. But the squeeze of barbed wire around his heart propelled him forward.

He knew you were here. He knew it was you that needed him.

It was an odd feeling, tearing around corners in search of the one woman he’d thought over and over about torturing. He’d thought of you crying. He’d thought about how he could hurt you. Did that make him a bad person? Maybe. So be it. You weren’t perfect either. Over the last few years, he’d even thought of how he’d kill you himself — just, once, he’d thought of this. It was during a meeting with the entire Inner Circle, of course; Eris was present. He’d arrived early and heard you, again, talking to Nesta about your ideas on strategy and negotiation. Though you were speaking of ideas that would affect him directly, he didn’t care — the ideas were good. Nesta wasn’t shy to give credit where it was due, either.

But, none of that mattered because during the meeting, you hadn’t opened your mouth once or said a word about your ideas. You’d tried to interject, actually — but Rhysand was quick to silence you.

But how did you handle that?

Like a good pet would. You sat, and stayed silent. Just like you always did. You’d never challenge your High Lord, oh Cauldron no — he could just simply use you as a doormat, and it wouldn’t matter.

Maybe that’s what pissed Eris off so badly.

He knew what you were capable of, what you had to offer, and what you were worth; but it seemed that most of the Inner Circle didn’t bat an eye at you, especially Rhys, whom you bowed to and that was that. Your talents could be used for so much more, but you always stayed within the guidelines in which you were allowed.

“Please… Eris…someone help me…”

Eyes straining in the night, Eris followed your pained cries until he found you in the middle of the maze. You were slumped against the large marble water fountain, breathing unevenly as blood stained your neck. Drying crimson flakes dirtied your usually vibrant tendrils, and your hands braced over your abdomen, hot tears creating tracks down your dirtied face.

"Oh my Gods..." He rushed to you, and you peered up at him in desperation. His heart split in two, seeing you crumpled and hurt in front of him as he took in your appearance in full.

But, his sadness turned very quickly, to anger. You laid, panting and in pain, in his court, on his grounds. No explanation, no one coming to help you. He felt... violent.

He knelt down to your level, leaning in and stretching a hand out to trail over your face, registering the blood pouring from inside your lip. He then reached up to move your hair from your forehead -- a huge gash the cause for the ever growing maroon pool you two were in.

Well, one of the causes. Your hands still covered your stomach.

He was fuming, hands trembling as he tried to stay gentle with you, but absolute rage filled his every vein at how this could have happened to you.

Who could've let this happen to you.

"Eris, I..." you coughed, a few blood-tainted drops landing on the stone pathway below. "I... I didn't mean to... this is the first place I thought of..." another loud sob wretched from you, and Eris cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over the bone. You relaxed a bit at his touch, though he usually appeared so tense and malicious. When he looked into your eyes again, his whiskey irises were dulled to a deep bourbon, and his jaw was clenched tight.

"Come with me."

He stood then and wrapped his arms around your knees and lower back, scooping you up and carrying you as carefully as he could back to his wing of the Forest House. You let out a few small yelps here and there as the searing pain in your stomach was getting to be too much to handle.

"Please, stay with me Y/N," he pleaded, looking down at you sorrowfully. Your usually soft eyes met his, and his wire-wrapped heart strained once more. He’d felt as though he was carrying a small, injured deer -- that is what you were in his eyes. A gentle, wise, little doe. His little doe.

Whatever he’d been feeling before, it was long gone. The only thoughts clouding his mind were ones of keeping you safe, helping you in every way he could, and providing you with everything you could need.

Little did he realize, you just needed him. Wasn’t that why you were there in the first place?

When Eris had finally made it inside, he sat you gently on the sofa in front of the fireplace, and ran to the washroom. It wasn’t long before he’d returned, presenting a small wet cloth in one hand and taking your chin between his fingers kindly in the other. He began to wipe away the trailing stains all over your delicate skin, trying so hard to stay gentle with you; trying to replicate the softness you'd always offerred others. He felt better seeing you relax into his touch a bit as he continued to work.

But, that's one thing you didn't have in common. He wasn't soft, or sweet like you. It was one thing he pretended to hate; he “hated” your kindness to everyone, even his father, of all people. He “hated” your soft voice, one he wasn’t used to hearing all that often. He also “hated” your gentle loving nature — so, so much he “hated” it.

He tried to steady his breathing, gazing into your round, watery eyes to attempt to ground his senses and avoid thinking about punishing whoever hurt you like this. It only caused him more agony, watching as you tried to hold back your tears. Wiping away the last of the blood from your hairline, he dropped his head for a moment, raking a hand through his hair.

“I can’t stall for you any longer, love.” He said softly. Your stomach muscles continued to tense under your palms, and you watched as he rolled a clean cloth between his hands.

"I’m going to put this,” he held up the rolled cloth.

“In here," he tucked it into your open mouth. You closed your mouth over it, so usually defiant towards your “sworn enemy”, but, really...

You'd do anything he asked of you.

His hands moved to cover your bloody ones, still clutching at your stomach.

"Y/N... you’re going to have to move your hands." He says. Your eyes screw shut as you groan, fresh pain raging from the wound in your abdomen. Eris sighs, looking to you with pleading eyes.

“Please, Y/N… you have to help me help you.” His thumbs stroke over your knuckles, now covered in your blood — and you begin to remove your hands shakily. He breathes a sharp gasp as he sees your laceration in full, and shakes his head slowly. He sits back on his knees, positioning himself between yours.

"Hold onto me." He says. You look to him in confusion, and he places your clammy fingers on his shoulders. One of his hands lingers on yours for a moment, and he pressed the inside of your wrist to his lips. He looks back to you, eyes already asking for forgiveness.

"I'll be honest,” he begins. “I've thought about hurting you before, as you've hurt me," he says, voice deep with ... something. Something you couldn't place. You could barely focus on his words as your mind started to fog over, your vision clouding with black spots. "...but never like this."

He sighs one last time, a hand coming into view between your knees, his fingers ablaze with his gift of fire. You immediately sit up, or try to anyway -- a sob racks your chest, muffled by the cloth, and Eris holds you down, hand splayed over your sternum.

"Hold onto me." He says again, his tone warning. His fingers meets your bubbling would, flames searing the skin as a scream tears through your dry, cracked throat, only quieted by the cloth you’re biting down on. Your eyes blow wide, and you squirm under his hold. He looks at you with regret, pulling back for just a moment — only to press heat onto your would again within seconds.

Your hands claw at the collar of his white button down, red already smeared over most of it. He huffs an apologetic sigh, continuing to carterize your open would, flames stinging and burning your sensitive flesh.

Over. Over. Over again.

You tilt your head back, the familiar weightless feeling becoming all too apparent. You felt it coming; you were going to black out. His once-white collar begins to slip from your fingers, and your eyes meet his one last time before glazing over as you slink into darkness.

: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

Soft streams of sunlight bathe the room in a golden glow when you open your eyes again. You register the feeling of comfy, loose-fitting pants amid the cool, mahogany silk sheets you’re enveloped in. You blink a few times, and reach a hand up to rub the sleep from your eyes.

When your eyes adjust, you realize what’s so different; everything. The sun is illuminating the room from a window. A window across this… bedroom, with a stoked fireplace and four poster oak bed. A bed with mahogany sheets, a stark contrast to your usual lilac ones at home — as well as the teakwood bookshelf along the far wall. At least those are familiar, most of the titles. One novel is laying on the window seat; it’s one you’d just finished last week.

Then, the realization hits you; you were in Eris' room.

You try to sit up, but wince in pain and end up laying back down, head flopping against the plush pillows under your head. Your hands instinctively reach toward your stomach, tugging at the hem of the tank top you donned. A thick bandage was wrapped around your midsection, concealing your abdominal injury. Your mind wandered to last night, what you'd endured, winnowing to the Autumn Court, the burning...

Within moments, Eris appeared in the doorway, concern threading his brows together as he looks you up and down.

"Is everything alright?" In three steps, he’s made it to the bed, taking a seat on the edge of it. He pulls the covers up, tucking them around you in comfort. You shake your head in honesty, silver lining your eyes as they meet his.

He knew you’d be honest with him. Yet, another thing he “hated” about you.

"I... they took me last night." You manage to choke out. Eris readjusts to face you, scooting closer and reaching out a hand to stroke through your hair. He bites on his lower lip, eyes searching yours.

"Who. Who took you Y/N." He says. It sounds like more of a demand than a question.

You shake your head, a tear slipping free as you remember being kidnapped from your bed and tossed onto the mountainside. The feeling of freezing snow under your knees, the jagged rocks slicing into your palms would only be the beginning of the pain you'd endure before somehow winnowing away.

"It was... they wanted me to partake in the..." you swallow, the lump in your throat only growing as another tear slips free. Usually, he’d be the type to taunt you for crying or appearing so weak, but Eris only brushes his thumb against your cheek, wiping your tears away.

"The fucking Blood Rite?" He bites out. Anger radiates off of him, the small fire in the fireplace near the window growing with each passing second. The muscle in his jaw feathers as his eyes train on yours, and you nod in confirmation. His other hand rests on yours clasped atop the sheets, and you can’t help but register the heat he is emitting, even from the small touch.

He sighs, hanging his head low and shaking it slowly. When he makes eye contact again, he takes your hands reassuringly in his. “Y/N, I’m only going to ask you one more time. Who. Did. This. To you.” You can practically see the flames dancing in his irises, and you lean forward an inch, almost nose to nose with him. His strong scent of cinnamon and burnt timber wafts through your senses, and you feel a small tug on your heartstrings.

“Eris, look it’s not anyone’s fault, okay? I mean, well, it is…” you begin with a sigh, sniffling and wiping at your eyes. “I was sleeping over at the House of Wind with Nesta and Gwyn and Emerie, and… oh, the guys were there too, for most of the night. Cassian and Azriel.” You explain. He nods for you to continue.

“Well, we were just having a nice time and when we went to sleep, I don’t know I just… one minute I was asleep and the next, I had a mask on my eyes and someone was… uh…. mm… uhm covering my mouth and… Nesta was screaming-“ you hadn’t noticed your hands beginning to shake, until Eris laced his fingers with yours. You took a steadying breath, but the shaking only subsided a little as you still remembered the horrors of the night prior.

“So… Cassian and Azriel. They were supposed to be watching you.” Eris says evenly. You look at him incredulously.

“Watching? Oh, hardly. I mean, we’re not eight years old, Eris.” You explain. He nods, biting the inside of his cheek and contemplating your words. You can practically see the gears turning in that beautiful little head.

“It seems a little chat is in order.” He chides. Your eyes widen, and your hand braces on his bicep. He glances down at your touch, then back to your face again, nose still just inches from yours.

“No! Uh… I mean, no. Please.” You say. “They haven’t done anything wrong, and-“

“I’d hardly say allowing for you to be kidnapped for the damned Blood Rite is an inexcusable offense.” He interrupts. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Andddd, I shouldn’t have been allowed to winnow at the Blood Rite. Anyone found using their powers or plotting to escape the rite once it’s begun is…” you trail off. He nods. He knows; it’s an executable offense. Bringing any of this to attention could perhaps put you in more danger.

He didn’t care. He was prepared to do anything to save you, just as he’d done the night before. He definitely wouldn’t allow some dirty Illyrians get their hands on you again, either.

“How were you able to winnow, anyway? I thought powers weren’t able to be used on Romiel during the Blood Rite,” he asks, quirking a brow. You shrug, wincing and regretting the movement.

“I don’t know… maybe, since no one knows I am capable of winnowing, they didn’t think it’d be necessary to shield those abilities from me? I don’t know Eris, I don’t know how all this works.” You say exasterbatedly, absentmindedly wiping at your nose again. Eris only seems to become more troubled by your response.

“So… they didn’t teach you to winnow, you just… did it… and they didn’t think you could do anything with your powers, so much so that no one bothered to remove them?” His voice pitches, and you nod in agreement.

“I suppose.” He slips his hand from yours, standing and straightening his shirt. He moves toward the door, not uttering another word.

“Eris, where are you-“

“Y/N, trust me; I’m only doing you justice. You’ll thank me later, dove.”

: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ

“What are you doing out of bed?”

You hear him before you see him. When you slowly turn from your spot at the stovetop, Eris is leaned against the doorframe, a cocky grin on his lips, brow raised in question. You roll your eyes, the only movement you can do at normal speed without tensing in pain.

“Well, smart guy,” you say. “You ran off and left me for half the day, and didn’t feed me. So, I forced myself up and… went on a little scavenger hunt. To the kitchen.” You say simply. He scoffs and strides over to you, stopping to lean against the counter behind you. You turn to face him, and he glances at the bandage peeking out from below your top.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, no tone or condescension evident in his voice. You cautiously take his hand in yours, and his eyes gaze at you in silent question. You press his palm to your side, and smile softly at him. All those years thinking he was your enemy; all those years thinking he would truly hurt you; all those years suppressing what you knew was true all along. Maybe he wasn’t the bad guy that everyone made him out to be. You knew he was a good male.

“I'm stronger than you thought, hmm?” You say with a wink. His eyes soften, and a little smile plays on his lips as his other hand braces your other hip bone. He pulls you close, so close your pelvis is touching his upper thighs. You peer up at him through your lashes as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“You’ve always been the strongest woman I’ve known.”

You blush at his words, finally accepting what you’ve been running from all along; you care for Eris. Truly, you did. Why else would you winnow here, of all places? Why else would you feel a familiar tug on your heart strings when he was around?

You cared.

And, Cauldron behold; he did too.

“And… you had to show me how strong you could be today?” You ask, your tone dipping low. Eris rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“All I did was go over there, and demand to know why the hell they’d allow for you to be kidnapped in your own home-“ You gasp and swat his arm lightly.

“Eris!” You scold. He grins down at you, taking your face in his hands and looking at you lovingly.

“Maybe I should irritate you more… look at you, taking initiative and putting me in my place.” He chuckles. Your face reddens, and you stare at him wide-eyed as he runs his knuckles down your jaw, his cool silver ring easing the burning hot you felt beneath your cheek.

“Maybe you should do what you're suppos-“ Eris cuts you off with a tsk tsk tsk, pulling you in close and finally pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You part your lips, fingers caressing his jaw and threading through his hair as his lips dance with yours. His fingers trail from your cheek down to your waist, holding you close as one hand runs up and down your side; grabbing firmly when your teeth graze his bottom lip. He pulls away, breathless as he supplies you a feline grin.

“Now, where is the fun in that?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[buggybambi]

yours, cb. | carmen berzatto

summary: carmen writes a letter to you the day before he proposes, reflecting on your relationship.

wc: 1.02k | navigation post

rating: fluff, none! content warnings: none! if any need to be added lmk but as far as i know there are none:-)

“The first time I met you, I was so damn nervous. Richie told me you were back in town and I thought I was convinced that my first time meeting you, I’d screw it up somehow. Jumble all my words, forget my name. I almost did the first time I saw you. That night in the restaraunt with the only light on being one over a table by the fogged up windows. You still look so pretty under that light, you look pretty under anything. Richie told me, ‘she’s sweet’. Sweet doesn’t begin to describe you, angel. My angel.”

"Everything about you was.. so enchanting. I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever met. I never thought people could geniuenly fall in love at first sight, but with you, I realize what they're talking about when they say they laid eyes on their partner and they knew. From the moment I saw you I knew you were meant to be mine. And I yours."

You sat in your shared bedroom, your laptop in your lap as you scrolled through the numerous recipes Sydney had sent to you to review for the menu, since apparently you were hired as taste-tester. "What the hell is that?" You murmur to yourself as you stare at one of the dishes.

The front door opens and then swiftly closes, as you can hear footsteps approaching. You close your laptop just as Carmen appears a second later, practically jumping into your arms, laying his head on your chest. "Hi, bear. You okay?" You ask.

He lets out a soft "mm" as you begin running your hand through disheveled curls. "Just thought about you all day. Wanted to be here. That okay?" He checks, lifting his hand. You place a kiss on his head. "Carm, anytime you need, I'm here."

There's that grin again. There's that spike in his heartbeat when he looks at you, when he talks to you. The way he can feel himself falling deeper into love with you, no matter how long you've been together. There's a comfort in that, almost.

───

"The first time I kissed you, you may not have realized this (or you did any you're just too sweet not to say anything which totally sounds like you, babe) but I think my hands would have won an award for being the sweatiest palms, ever. You know when people say they feel fireworks when they kiss the person they love? I always thought they were being dramatic because until you, I hadn't felt that. But now I know what exactly they mean."

When Carmen wakes up and he realizes that you aren't there, he frowns. His favorite thing to do in the mornings when he wakes up before you do - which happens often - is to kiss you on the cheek and snuggle you for a few minutes before he has to pull himself away.

It isn't until he hears you humming down the hallway making your way back in that he smiles, sitting up to greet you. You come in, two mugs of coffee in hand. "Oh, hey, you're awake." You say, setting the mug down on his nightstand, kissing him before slipping back into your side of the bed, setting your coffee down.

Your phone buzzes in between you both, causing you to look down as your lock screen lights up with texts from Nat. "Am I your lockscreen?" He asks, recognizing the photo in the back. You smile at him, nodding. "Of course you are. You're my favorite person, Carm, why wouldn't you be?"

"And then our first date. The night I almost burned my apartment down because I was staring at you while the food cooked. How is it possible since that day you've gotten prettier? Well, I know the answer, it's because naturally you're gorgeous anyway. But each time I stare at you, it takes me back to that night in my apartment. Our apartment, we just had no idea it would become that then."

He kissed you right then, making you forget about Nat blowing up your phone. "You're my favorite person, too." He whispers against your lips as you smile, kissing him again.

───

"It's weird to think about, you know? How I'm going to propose to you tomorrow, and I'm writing this on old notebook paper, and you have no clue. Maybe it's silly of me to be writing this, it'll probably be some forgotten piece of paper. Or I'll read this to our future kids, if we ever have any, and tell them what I thought of their mom the first time I saw her: I was starstruck."

He looks over at you where you sleep, your arms wrapped around his torso where he sits up. He tries to keep still as he writes, not moving too much. He leans down, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"I can't wait to ask you to marry me tomorrow. To tell you everything I need to tell you, to ask you to be mine forever until death do us part. Mikey once learned Irish wedding vows (because of course he did), and I think it says what I can't. May you never steal, lie or cheat. But if you must steal, then steal away my sorrows. And if you must lie, lie with me all the nights of my life. And if you must cheat, then please cheat death, because I couldn't live a day without you."

His mind races with every memory he's shared with you. Looking around the bedroom you two share and have had so many laughs, tears and more in. The idea that he - a boy from Chicago with family issues who thinks he's an unlovable psycho - gets to marry you? Share a life with you, and maybe get to be the father of your children?

You're the one for him.

And for the rest of your lives, he doesn't know what he wants to be. But as for as long as you'd have him, he has an idea of what he wants to be.

"Yours, CB."

˙ ✩°˖🌸 ⋆｡˚꩜

thank you for reading! please feel free to engage with this post by reblogging, commenting or sliding into my inbox to leave feedback! i appreciate all of you! check out my nav post here for more fanfics!

- mae:)

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

mae’s loves:

@wabi-sabi1090

@harrysmatcha

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@urdreamgirl12

@readingwithsass

@angelicflower2020

@wadupppp

to join my taglist please reply to this post asking to be added! <3

[lady-ashfade]

All For Us

Day 16 of celebration marathon

Luke Castellan x Apollo!reader

-♡ ask: this might be a lil confusing idk but can u write something where it's the scene that luke's scorpion thing stings percy and like luke is trynna convince reader to come with him

-♡ words: 700

-♡ good thing I read the book- and posting this 20 minutes early

-♡ warnings: short, angst, betrayal, percy literally dying, book spoilers? Idk if they still counts here

maybe you should have paid more attention.

there were times were you saw the look in his eyes while he talked about the gods to the younger kids. you knew him, you could hear the venom in his voice when he tried to hide it. you also knew how his cheek creased when he smiled, how his eyes looked with tears stinging them, how his face tightened when he was mad. after all that you may have not knew him like you thought you did.

he had taken percy alone at his celebration and you wanted to join them so you looked for them. never did you think you’d hear what you did, see what you saw.

“luke?” you whisper and step out from the tree you hide behind. both pair of eyes turn to you, one with surprise and widen, the other panicking and scared. the scorpion was crawling up percy’s leg and you tried to not spook them.

“what are you doing here?” just a few seconds ago luke was smirking but now his face fell. how could he be so cruel and acted worried?

“let percy go, he’s just a child.” your feet slowly moved forward while your hands stayed in front of you. “I understand, you know I do— but this isn’t the way to get back at the gods.”

“and what is? should we sing a song?” his growl set shivers through you spine. he’s never snapped at you like that. his eyes never looked at you like that. you take a deep breath and glance down at percy as he tries to stay still.

“kronos? luke really?”

“I have to do this, like you said— you know. come with me and I promise it will be better then what it’s like now.” you try and move back when he walks towards you with his eyes going back to love. even know he was just as beautiful, he was yours.

“I can teach you. we can command a army together, can’t you see I’m doing this for us? our future can be better then what they promise us. stick by my side.”

once he is in front of you his hands reaches up to your cheek. it’s so hard to not pull away from his touch. “you know I’d never lie to you.” tears pooled in your eyes as you look along the face you knew. the scar along his cheek, the smile he tried to give you, but the guilt and sadness was new.

“I love you,” you lean in to press a kiss to his lips which he was glad to expect. you pull away and pain captures your heart and makes it ache. “but I will never turn my back on camp.” you push him away and reach for your own weapon, tears now spilling from your eyes.

luke stands there with a sour look and his chest falls heavily. the look you both shared was twisting the fate you once shared, lovers no more.

you turn when percy groans and moves. the scorpion laid sliced by his side but his hand injured by its bite. you rush to him, you look up at luke with anger. “you’re a monster.”

“you loved that about me once, just because it’s towards him now shouldn’t change anything. goodbye, my love.”

his sword spilt open a portal and he hopped into it without saying anything else. you cried and forced yourself to pay attention to percy for now. his life need to keep you going. so you dragged him to the creek as he still held some strength to move with you. you hoped it would heal but the water did nothing to him so you screamed for help.

in the end chiron come and took him from you. you sat in the creek and let the water flow around you and soak your clothes as you sobbed. was it in anger? was it sadness? you had no idea what you felt in that moment. in times like these he would wrap his arms around you and tell you everything was going to be okay, that he would never let anything happen to you.

what were you supposed to do with him gone.

Taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows @repostingmyfavs

[simping-on-the-daily]

Some Kind of Angry Beaver

Summary: The Wolverine’s massacre has made you lose everything. Your friends are dead, you’ve left home, and the world’s hatred for mutants grows worse. You promise to yourself you’d have a few words to him if you meet again, and you do, at one of the shady bars where you both grieve your losses.

Notes: Reader is a mutant and was with Wolverine for a brief time, very very brief implications of sub!Logan. Not romantic anymore, and yes the title is from ERB deal with it. Worstie is a lot more sad and pathetic since this is early post!slaughter, gender neutral reader, not beta read we die like this universe’s X-Men, I wrote this in a day and it’s absolutely gonna show

Warnings: Logan killed some of Reader’s friends in his rampage, story is based on grief and death, mutant racism, Logan tries to kill himself but he comes back dw, and a whole lotta swearing

Before you met him, you had no clue what a wolverine was.

You’d barely heard of it, having skipped over it in some animal documentary to focus on more interesting animals, like sharks and alpacas. When you passed by a bar with a few cage fights, you heard the name Wolverine for the first time. When looking at the man’s body, admittedly luscious hair with canines and claws, you had assumed a wolverine was some type of dog or cat, before nailing it down to a wolf. Wolverine, wolf, they just added some more syllables to make a difference.

“It’s a weasel.” The man who you now knew was called Logan answered curtly upon your question, looking away from the bed which smelled of steamy intimacy from last night, and thus, turning away from you, who was on the other side, putting your clothes back on.

“That doesn’t seem very threatening,” You quipped back, putting your shirt on. “The fuck’s a weasel gonna do to the lucky guy?”

Logan gave a quick grunt. “They should be more worried about what I’d do to them.”

“If you can avoid their little collars, that is. Fucking bastards and their dampeners.” You said with a sarcastic sigh. The Senate was trying to make them more commonplace, and though the clapback was fierce, you were still a bit wary.

He gave a quick hmph, and that was that.

You stayed together for a few months. It was unforgettable, to say the least. Watching that man squirm under your touch was an accomplishment for the ages, and the moment you made tears come out of his eyes you did a little victory dance in your brain. You bought him dogtags and things you thought he might’ve liked, while he defended your honor in your ring, beating the shit out of anyone who dared to shittalk you.

“You shouldn’t have, sweetie,” You jokingly answered, upon noticing that his knuckles were still dripping red after passing by a beaten guy carried by his friends, making small comments about how dumb he was. You noticed some scars subtly close in, and turned away, pretending you saw nothing. “His ego can’t take another hit.”

“Can yours?” He answered, and your only response was a pinch of his cheek.

Of course, it didn’t last. Nothing bad happened, you simply just went in other directions. Logan kept hopping between different clubs with cage fights, and you settled in a small town and made a life there. You never forgot how it felt to touch him, but you’d seen him in action. Dude could do just fine.

You got a job, and got your own group of people. Majority of them were human, but like hell if that mattered. You shared good drinks of booze together and you cared for them. Brittney gave birth to a child, and god that kid was the cutest, fattest little fucker you’d ever seen. A few years had passed since you’d met Logan, and by then you were content. Your abilities were accepted, you’d gotten your own little found family, and you comfortably nested yourself in the community.

Brittney and her new fiancé, Ken were going to NYC for a vacation, and trusted the rest of you with their child. For the best, you know now.

“The X-Men are dead. You should be staying here.” Charlie said, crossing his arms to the couple. He wasn’t exaggerating, the X-Men were dead. Their mansion was ransacked and their bodies were fucked. You remember holding in the urge to puke, as the censoring on the news was done horrible, all the guts and gore visible. Jayden didn’t, you remember, running to the toilet and letting out a combination of a vomit and sob.

“We can’t just cancel. I promise, we’ll be safe.” Ken said, though it was obvious he was nervous. “That money can’t just go down the drain, and we’ve shortened it to just two days.”

“The fuck’s the point on going a vacation, then?” You spoke up, eyebrows raised. Brittney looked at me, before back to her now crying baby, probably from all the arguments.

“I have a gun for a reason.” Ken shrugged, and you and Charlie died down. You knew you weren’t gonna win.

“Just….keep Hope safe, alright?” Brittney’s query ended the conversation, as you nodded before giving her a hug. Charlie left the premises, and later you’d see him in the casino, trying to drown out the worry you felt.

You should’ve pushed more. You should’ve tied them to a fucking chair, drugged them with some sleeping pills or whatever. Anything to prevent what happened. But you can’t turn back time, that wasn’t your mutant ability, and now your friends are dead.

So many people were dead.

You spent three days in lockdown. All from some….monster, indiscriminately slaughtering everyone in a path that couldn’t be determined. New York was fucked, Brittney and Ken were fucked. You saw their names on a list of casualties. Jayden wailed for the loss, and you let out a few tears yourself. This shouldn’t have happened, this shouldn’t ever have happened.

The three days ended, but it felt a lot more like an eternity of Hell. Your town wasn’t touched, but you still saw so much blood as you left your home. Nothing changed and yet it all changed. This didn’t feel like home, not anymore.

When the news told you the culprit of this massacre, you couldn’t resist the urge this time. You puked in your toilet, tears running down your face. Your friends were dead to someone who you knew, who’s cheeks you gently pecked. The hands that you once held were used to slaughter Brittney and Ken and so many innocent people. Logan had killed your friends, had killed you in a way.

The bodies were returned, and you cremated the couple at their funeral. You still had some tears to cry, face blank as you stared at their urns. That was your second last day in that town. Everyone hated you now, your mutant powers were despised once more after Logan fucked everything up. No-one looked at you normally anymore. Their gazes were full of hatred and prejudice and pity and god you fucking despised it. With the knowledge that Charlie adopted Hope and Jayden had absolutely run out of tears, you left, wiping your face as the downpour consumed you.

You passed by, traveling across without a goal. You became closely acquainted with the train and bus, and you once more learned to hide your powers, something that you never thought you’d have to do again. Any progress people might’ve been working on towards total acceptance went down the drain, organizations quickly scrambling to make speeches about how ‘one mutant shouldn’t define an entire race’. You would’ve agreed, but the carnage was massive and you still saw dried blood on some walls from the Wolverine’s rampage is you looked closely enough.

After it rained again, you sought refuge in one of the nearby bars. It smelled of shit of booze, and you took a seat near the front.

“Whatcha want?” The bartender asked, gruff in his voice noticeable, and you thought for a second, looking at all the glasses behind him.

“Second heaviest thing you got.” He nodded, and quickly poured some beer in a glass. You had him a note before drinking.

You comfortably fell in the routine, sitting in silence, all the other conversations providing ambiance to your casual misery. Then, like a lightning strike to a tree, it just had to end.

The door opened again. You didn’t care, but when all the conversation stopped, you looked up. You retched upon seeing the fucker’s face, and moved farther away from the door until you were on the opposite end of the counter.

Logan either didn’t notice or didn’t care, sitting at the counter. “Fuck off,” The bartender almost snarled. “We don’t want ya kind here.”

Logan pulled out a few coins. “Not a paying customer?” He spoke, as if he was ignorant to all the shit he pulled just a few weeks ago.

The bartender grunted, pouring him a glass of wine that was obviously cheap and old. The mutant accepted it anyway, taking a long sip. He shouldn’t be enjoying himself, you thought with disdain, he should’ve been rotting in Hell without a drop of drink and no flames to light up a cigar.

The ambiance stopped, no-one wanting to talk while the beast was around. For some fucking reason, you didn’t move from your seat, and so you were just a few meters away from the ex who took so much from you.

After five drinks, you had enough. You got up from your seat and left some change behind as a tip. A more conscious you wouldn’t have tipped someone who was likely a mutant racist, but you weren’t really thinking. You wanted out, you wanted away from the monster, you wanted away from that bloody wolf.

You walked a few steps away from the building when Logan came approaching you. You paused in place, perhaps by the audacity of his actions.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened, but you gave a small growl, turning them narrowed again. “For what?”

“I wronged you.” You always did need observational skills to become a good tracker.

“Their names,” You shot back with a snarl, “Were Brittney and Ken, and they were heading to New York. They did nothing to you. And you still killed them.”

“I did. I’m sorry.” He repeated, as if that would make it any better.

“I don’t care if you’re sorry!” You yelled out, pointing a finger towards the other mutant as you took a step forward. “You slaughtered my friends you fucking bastard! You lost your family, big whoop, what right does that give you to make mine too, you bloody prick?!”

You had thought about this type of scenario before. You wouldn’t give him a verbal beatdown, no, you were too classy for that. You’d say one sentence that would crush his resolve and leave him astounded as you walked away, knowing that your friends were at peace. But you were drunk and angry and your family was fucked over because of this one man, and so you went on, like a lion going overkill when it finally encountered their prey.

“I wish I never fucking met you! It’d be sooooo easier if you were just some psycho rando, but I fucked you! We slept in the same bed and I kissed you and god I fucking knew you. You were one of the X-Men, you were supposed to save the world, but all you do is make things worse!” You sobbed, dropping your hand to your side as they shook.

“And it’s god’s greatest wish that you die alone and scared, just like your fucking victims, but it’s also god’s little gift that you can’t die! And you just had to in-fucking-flict it upon all of us! All you do is make things worse for everyone, you ruined everyone’s life, you ruined my life, god fucking damnit!” You put your face into your hands and sobbed. You must’ve looked so pathetic, having this breakdown on the road in front of your murderous ex.

“I should’ve tried harder.” You murmured weakly to no-one in particular. “I should’ve stopped them. Shouldn't have relented when Charlie did. Should've done more……” Tears and hands muffled your voice. “But I didn't and now they're fucking dead.”

You finally looked up, and just like you, Logan's face was covered in tears. Good, you thought. Let him suffer.

“Should've been there for them.” You didn't expect him to talk. “Should've gotten off my ass and done something. And now they're ten feet under cuz’ I didn't.”

A stray sob escaped your throat again, looking at him, covered by rain and tears and now the moon was out. “Guess we both fucked up, huh?” You tried to smile, head tilted, with it only just looking broken and fake.

“They'd all be disappointed.” Logan confirmed somberly, as he thought back to Colossus and Professor X and Scott, all too aware of their hypothetical reactions if they knew of his actions.

“The X-Men were supposed to be heroes, weren't they?” You looked up at the stars, and held a hand up like you were trying to catch them. “But you were always the best at what you did, and what you did was never heroic. You told me yourself.” Answering your own question, your hand flopped to the side again. The stars didn't feel so luminescent, not right now.

Logan gave a small grunt, trying to wipe away his tears. “I know. I'll carry it for the rest of my life. It's what I deserve.”

“It's what you deserve.”

You spoke at the same time, before you gave a fake small chuckle. “God, you're fucking horrible.” You paused for a second, letting out another pretend giggle. “Thanks for telling me what a wolverine was, Logan. Cuz’ I know that you’re the fucking worst one.”

You lunged forwards and punched him in the cheek. It hurt like hell, and Logan didn't flinch, but fuck did it feel good.

“Fuck you, Logan. I hope you rot in Hell, you bitchin’ bastard.”

He only nodded, tears still cascading down his face as you stormed away and walked away, just like you did to your home.

You found yourself sitting on a bench, still raining and still wet from your encounter. Your ass was fucking freezing. Maybe you deserved it for being such a bad friend. You wouldn't be here if you had been there for Brittney and Ken. You had a lot of tears in your body, you realized, as you sobbed once more, grieving the loss of everything you once had. God, you hated beavers.

Logan hated himself too. That should’ve made you feel better, but it didn’t. You were still just as empty and sad as you were this morning, just this time you were drenched and drunk. You looked up at the stars again, and though they were still just as dull as they were when you encountered Logan, you still gazed anyway. They were all you had left.

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

Logan rushed into the dump he called a home, a retch stuck in his throat as he frantically searched. Your words were repeating once more, becoming one with the fucked up chorus that was his mind, mocking him for even considering that you’d want him back. It was a passing thought that he immediately disregarded, but the voices milked it, acting as though he’d been pining over you for years.

He’d never forgotten you, you were important to him. But you moved on, and so did he, and he tried to shoot his shot with Jean. But Jean’s dead, and you weren’t, and you hated him. As you should, he didn’t blame you, he hated himself. And yet it somehow stung.

The cacophony roared with laughter at his turmoil, and he clutched his head, praying they’d get out. He couldn’t handle your voice, he couldn’t handle Jean’s voice he couldn’t handle Colossus’ voice he couldn’t handle Scott’s voice he couldn’t-

Finally, he found it. He snatched the gun that was hidden in the sofa, a desperate last resort who times like these, when they wouldn’t stop. His finger stroked the trigger almost tenderly before putting it to his head.

“You know this isn’t gonna work, right?”

“Bro forgot he has a healing factor. Did all that killing make him braindead or what?”

“You don’t deserve to die. You deserve to live with this for the rest of your life.”

He knew that. He deserved all this pain, but Logan was never the paragon of morality. He was a selfish prick, who ruined everything he touched and yet he was the last one standing. But he wanted the voices to go, he wanted them to stop, and he wanted to stop crying because God it’s just been a dam breaking on his face since you yelled at him.

He was alone, and he was scared. Just like you wanted him to be. He embraced the trigger, and felt tranquil as the surge of bullets went through his brain.

It was only serene for a few minutes, but for Logan, the worst Wolverine who killed so many innocents, who ruined any chances of the world accepting mutants, who drunk so much it got his family killed and still drunk? Even a second of that serenity was a touch of heaven that Logan didn’t deserve.

[runnning-outof-time]

Dear K, you've been spoiling us haven't you? First with all your incredible worlds you've been sharing the last days and now this celebrations - congratulations 🎉🎉 I hope the joy of writing never leaves you! I would like to request

9. "Forget I ever said that" with Tommy with a sprinkle of tone-surprise on top

I hope you have fun and can't wait to see what you come up with! Xx

Val!! Thank SO much for your incredibly kind words!! You’ve been such a big supporter and dear friend of mine! I added some surprise into this, but I’m not sure if it’s how you wanted. A post I’d seen on here about this possibility came into mind and I decided to write it out. I hope you like it. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k celebration — find other stories here!

Good With Horses

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: drinking, smoking, language, brief mention of drug dealing

Word Count: 903

Summary: Tommy lets a secret slip while he and (Y/N) have a chat about his youngest brother.

“I bet Pol’s spoke to ya,” Tommy started as he entered the front sitting room, where (Y/N) was relaxing on one of the couches.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed at his statement, and she watched him as he walked to where the decanters are shelved so that he could grab one and a glass to bring over to where she was sitting. She doesn’t say anything, just watches as he pours himself a glass of whiskey so that he can immediately tip it back. The huffed groan that left his lips after he set the glass down tells her he’s had a long day.

“About what?” she decides to ask him, her brows still furrowed.

Tommy takes a moment to go about lighting himself a cigarette, and he doesn’t speak until after he’d taken a deep drag. “What Finn’s been up to,” he answered, sitting back against the chair as he finally looked at to her.

“She didn’t say anything to me about that,” (Y/N) shook her head, a bit of confusion present on her face now.

A scoff leaves Tommy’s lips and he shakes his head before voicing his thoughts: “she just about ripped my ear off with it earlier.” Rolling his eyes up to the ceiling before he took another drag from the cigarette.

“What’s he done?” she questioned, wanting to know what was going on.

“He’s been off dealing snow. She said that Moss saw him out with some of the junior Blinders.”

“The Blinders you’ve told him he needs to be a part of?” she raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, but I haven’t told him that he needs to be out dealing with them,” he clarified, his eyebrows raised as he let his frustration seep through. “He doesn’t need to be dealing…he isn’t one of the fucking foot soldiers.”

“I don’t know what to say, Tommy…”

“I need to find something else for him to do,” he sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge his nose in hopes to alleviate some of the pressure he was feeling. “I can’t have Pol constantly breathin’ down my neck about it.”

(Y/N) pursed her lips in a thin line as she began thinking of some possibilities that could work for Finn, since it seemed like that was the direction this conversation was heading.

“He can work at the tracks,” she proposed an idea.

“No,” he immediately shot it down.

“Why not?”

“Can’t have him around that side of things. Pol wants him to stay in Birmingham,” he gave the reason.

“He’s just barely sixteen, Tom…what sides of this business should he be able to work around? Maybe it’s not the place for him.”

“He’s gotta stay doing something,” he shot down her idea of having him step away completely. “Needs to be put to work,” he mumbled then, sitting up to rest his elbows on his thighs as he hung his head.

Silence settled around them for a few moments, both being consumed by their thoughts. (Y/N) was the one to speak first: “what if you put him at the yard with Uncle Charlie and Curly?” she suggested, her statement making Tommy look up again. The look of intrigue that flashed in his eyes made her continue. “He could help them with deliveries and also with the horses they have there,” she gave more of an explanation.

“He’ll stick with the horses…I won’t have him messing with the deliveries,” Tommy added his own thoughts to her idea. (Y/N) nodded her head in agreement.

“He’s good with horses, isn’t he?” she asked the question - that should have preceded her suggestion - after wracking her brain and trying to think of any memories that she had of Finn on a horse.

“He’s a Shelby…course he’s good with horses,” he answered, an undertone of pride present in his voice. “He’s a better rider than any of us I think,” he mused after a few moments passed.

(Y/N) couldn’t stop her lips from twisting up into a smile as she heard her husband’s statement. Never did she think that he’d admit the fact that someone in his family could be a better horseman than he was. She was certainly surprised by the admission.

“Hey…” Tommy started, the sound of his voice making (Y/N) look at him again. He took the cigarette out from between his lips and gestured it towards her, his index finger pointing in her direction; his eyebrows raised. “Forget I ever said that,” he insisted, his eyes locked onto hers.

(Y/N) pursed her lips together in hopes that her smile wouldn’t grow any larger, but she was betrayed. A giggle bubbled up passed her lips as she looked down at her lap, hoping that her look of surprise would disappear.

“Eh?” he checked with her when she didn’t respond right away.

She tried to put on as straight a face as possible as she looked up at him again. “I will,” she agreed with a nod.

Tommy nodded in response to her, relaxing back into the chair again. “He’ll work with the horses then,” he settled the matter, his eyes shutting for the first time that day.

The grin reappeared on (Y/N)’s face as she looked over at her relaxing husband. She’d most definitely be telling Polly, Esme, and Ada what he’d just admitted the next time the ladies got together.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[olderthannetfic]

Obvious Disclaimer that this is not about any specific anon in particular, not about OTNF themself, but that my following rant might *slightly* punch down on people who ARE, well, older than net fics are.

But my honest opinion is that I really don’t like it when us old heads tend to sorta…talk down to? “Adultsplain”, if that’s even a thing? To The Gen Zs, by being like “damn kids! back in my day we never used our real name or posted selfies or posted about our personal life at all!” Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of those people who never posted the real me — but not because I was anonymous and cared about online safety, because I was a liar 😂 That being said, there ARE older people who definitely over-shared or “doxxed” themselves and still do, and there’s younger people who don’t!

I also feel like being “ha, these stupid KIDS who post about their FANDOM LIFE on TIK TOCK under their REAL NAME AND FACE where IRLS CAN SEE THEM, how STUPID” is not doing anyone any favors. Is that, technically, a smart thing for kids to do? No. Has it become normalized? Yes. And does that suck for people who might be bullied or outed or whatever cuz they genuinely are dumb and don’t know better and then someone they don’t like sees their stuff? Yes.

We all talk about how there’s no more kids spaces on the internet and how that’s a shame, but then five seconds later we’ll reblog that one “At any time I’m at risk of seeing a 14 year olds opinion and that’s why I hate it here” post. There’s really so few kid spaces on the net now, that’s true. We should extend empathy and let the teens be obnoxious and pretentious in peace, rather than making it a point to “ratio” or “roast them.” Idk personally I’d be completely unbothered if some 14 year old insulted my fic or my ship or whatever. I’d just block and move on, no need to try to argue with them.

And also, not all kids are even pretentious or obnoxious! I’m not saying we all need to take the kids under our wings, but we should be careful about not hating them just for being in their teens years, you know?

Also… telling a teenager to not post PII or not get into discourse or not have social media or whatever will NOT work the way you want it to 😭 kids are by default a little bit oppositionally defiant so telling some rando teen to Get Off Your Lawn (blog) rather than just blocking them, will encourage said teen to Stay On Your Lawn.

I just hate how it’s become normal for adults to talk down to teens online. I was harassed by adults online as a kid, then years and years and years later i went through my own “Older Than You™️”phase where I myself was a shit to teenagers, and I truly regret that so much. To this day I still need to make an effort to be careful. I saw on Twitter where an adult posted a DM from a 13 year old, mocking them. The DM said “I’m 14 next year, can I follow you? Please don’t groom me.” And the adult OP was laughing at how stupid the dm was. A few years ago, I would’ve been one of the people retweeting that and rolling my eyes at the child. Now im disgusted by the people who WERE laughing at them.

And again I’m obviously not saying we should be “nice” to the teenagers who mock us for our ships or who virtue signal too hard. But we also don’t need to make fun of their CARRDS or call them Puri-teens or rag on them just for being 17 or younger, yk?

--

Teens aren't 'puriteens' just for being young, dude. They have to also be puritanical bullies.

I find the stuff about real names hilarious because, actually, if you're really Internet Old™, then you probably did use your real name... it was right there in your university e-mail address! Or your random early ISP address if your stepdad got it for you and thought the university format was the default. Thanks, stepdad.

I've done every single dumb thing from going to meet my internet pen pal at an Alice Cooper concert to flying to Ireland from Japan to stay with a fandom friend I'd never met without telling anyone where I was going and without a credit card or enough cash to flee if I had to. I remember sitting on the plane thinking "Man, this is such a CSI episode topic".

The really funny part was that despite what she'd said before I visited, we ran into each of her parents at different times and ended up going to a play courtesy of her uncle, and all of them were like "So how do you know each other?" and "But you'd met before, right? RIGHT?!"

The level of panopticon is horrifying now. Teens have my sympathy. That part really is worse, and I think it's driving an entire generation nuts and we're going to see even more shit about people wanting to run away and live in a cabin in the woods with no internet. But in general, I don't think we're so different.

[mamaestapa]

Welcome to the Jungle|| Joe Burrow x reader (Series Masterlist)

•summary: Y/N Y/L/N moved to Cincinnati, Ohio for a new start. Move in day arrives and she discovers something terrible...the apartment complex gave her the wrong lease. Instead of living with who she originally was supposed to, she's now living with the hottest quarterback in the NFL, Joe Burrow. Y/N is stuck living in the same apartment with him for a year...which the two are not thrilled about. However, as time goes on, they realize that maybe this wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them. Will Y/N and Joe stay enemies, or will they find themselves falling in love?

•warnings: language, alcohol, slow-burn, jealousy, lots of angst and lots of fluff, smut, pregnancy, will add to this in more detail as the story progresses!

•chapters: 21/21

!IMPORTANT NOTE!

this is MY story from wattpad!! i’m transferring it over to tumblr as a Joe x reader instead of the Joe x OC that it is on my wattpad account. i do however want to make a statement that my account on wattpad IS under a DIFFERENT name!! however, it is still me. for a while, i never thought i would introduce my wattpad stuff to tumblr and vice versa, but i saw there’s a lot of stuff about joe on here, so i figured i’d share my work from wattpad with everyone! i’m under a fake name on tumblr for privacy reasons, but now that i’m “combining” accounts in a way, i will share my real name. you can continue to refer to me as abigail or as brooke. either is just fine! :)

chapters:

chapter one

•chapter summary: You arrive in Cincinnati and sign your lease to your new apartment

chapter two

•chapter summary: You move into your new apartment and meet your roommate—which ends up being quite the surprise

chapter three

•chapter summary: You’ve been living with Joe for a week now, how have things been going? While you relax by the pool, Joe brings over some guests that you didn’t plan on meeting right away…

chapter four

•chapter summary: You take the day to explore downtown Cincinnati. When you get home you find Joe engaging in some activities with a girl….

chapter five

•chapter summary: You attend your first Cincinnati Bengals game (that comes with lots fun and a surprise or two…)

chapter six

•chapter summary: You and Joe go back and forth doing things that bother one another and you get a surprise gym buddy ;)

chapter seven

•chapter summary: Groupchat with Joe and the guys

chapter eight

•chapter summary: There’s a storm in Cincinnati and you and Joe realize maybe the other isn’t so bad after all…

chapter nine

•chapter summary: You and Joe enjoy a morning together that gets ruined by an argument. Joe tries to make it up to you, but you have other plans

chapter ten

•chapter summary: You come home from your date with Evan feeling guilty and Joe, well, Joe makes a mistake and doesn’t know what he’s feeling

chapter eleven

•chapter summary: Joe struggles at practice and seeks advice from his teammates, then he comes home to a nice surprise…

chapter twelve

•chapter summary: Time skip! You and Joe decorate the apartment for Christmas! Fast forward a few weeks to Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and a couple days after Christmas…a lot happens. And what happens when Joe finds out you met someone while he was back home?

chapter thirteen

•chapter summary: Joe comes up with a plan to get Jake away from you…but does it work?

chapter fourteen

•chapter summary: You go to the playoff game Joe wanted you to come to. While you’re there, you reminisce on the last few months and figure out your true feelings for Joe…

chapter fifteen

•chapter summary: You and Joe confess your love for one another and share a very intimate moment after the Bengals win…(CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT!)

chapter sixteen

•chapter summary: You and Joe have a very important conversation the morning after your post game rendezvous

chapter seventeen

•chapter summary: You and Joe go Instagram official

chapter eighteen

•chapter summary: It’s the day of the AFC championship game. Joe has some sweet surprises for you and you meet Joe’s parents for the first time. However, the night doesn’t end the way you hoped it would…but at least you and Joe have each other.

chapter nineteen

•chapter summary: Off-season adventures shown off through an instagram photo dump

chapter twenty

•chapter summary: It’s just a few weeks away from the start of a new NFL season and you and Joe have a day full of surprises that will change your lives forever

chapter twenty-one

•chapter summary: You move into your new home with Joe and reminisce on all that has happened to you this past year. You finally get your happily ever after

epilogue

•chapter summary: Instagram posts and stories from the past nine months of yours and Joe's life. A great way to wrap up the end of this series❤️

[nekropsii]

what do you see in equius ?? genuine question i don't mean to sound rude but to me she's just really offputting. she gives me such creep vibes that i can't seem to get over and every time i read a page with her it just gets worse..... like when i first read nep & eq's chats i was sitting there wondering if this was outright abuse or at least bullying of some kind??? it felt like it idk.......

but honestly i do wanna see an equius liker's opinion on him because i can't understand it like at all and i'm probably just missing something that all the equius likers saw and i didnt LMAO

Well, considering I’m an Alpha Trolls Enthusiast and have been for, like, a decade, as well as having Horror as a Special Interest since age… What, 3? I’d say I personally have a pretty strong stomach for Weird and Offputting in fiction, lol. Stronger than most. Equius isn’t a very palatable character at all, I’ll be the first to admit that - a lot of the characters I enjoy the most in Homestuck aren’t very palatable… But I find ‘em real interesting, personally. The fact that they aren’t palatable adds to the intrigue for me, and poor execution tends to be a total weakness of mine. Again, Alpha Trolls Enthusiast for a decade straight.

I have a post here that talks a bit about my reading of Equius, I’d recommend giving it a read. I see Eridan and Equius as being very similar characters - not necessarily due to their shared hemoloyalty, but because they’re both teens falling down online pipelines. They’re very prevalent Kinds Of Guy that no one wants to talk about.

But people talk about Eridan plenty even to this day - he was even a fandom favorite for a while, being the fandom’s first Prettyboy Sad Gay Anime Prince long before Dirk… So he doesn’t reel in as much interest for me as the chronically overlooked Equius.

If there’s anything to know about me, it’s that I love a good underdog.

Equius-Likers, from my experience, are very aware of his issues. It’s part of the draw. Enjoyment of him tends to be an analytical fixation. I haven’t met a single Equius-Liker that hasn’t had some very complex thoughts on him. They’re just kinda quiet about it. Fitting.

Unfortunately, I’m Aranea But Real, so. No quietness here.

Your response to Equius is valid. It’s also intended, I feel. To specifically address the bits about concerns of his relationship with Nepeta not being healthy… I mean, it’s not abusive, but it’s definitely more complicated than fan art would lead you to believe, as always. “Complicated” is to be expected from a Moirallegiance - remember what they exist for?

Nepeta is very much so in control of the things going on, and their relationship is pretty equal, all things considered, so I wouldn’t be worrying too much about that. She very distinctly does not lack agency here - Nepeta is the one who has a leash on Equius, not the other way around. Equius is mean, because that’s the way she is to… Everyone, more or less, but she’s not of any danger to Nepeta. They have a fine Moirallegiance. 1,000% more functional than whatever the fuck Karkat and Gamzee had going on.

Anyway. I think Equius is neat, and has both missed and oft overlooked potential. One of the very few characters I’d be 100% down to have seen more content of in the comic.

Once again, check out this post. I still think it’s decent. Maybe you will, too.

[nghtwngs]

solace

description; After a long day, Nikolai finds relief in you.

pairing; king!nikolai lantsov x fem!reader

genre; smut, fluff, established relationship

word count; 1.8k

warnings; 18+, somno!! (which automatically makes it dubcon, so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable), reader is asleep for part of this but has consented (pls discuss boundaries with your partners guys), fingering, unprotected sex (a no no irl), cream pie, oral (fem-receiving), cum-eating, swearing, nikolai needs his own warning, christ this is kind of depraved (but also tender?)

notes; i have been thinking a LOT of thoughts lately. this is the first time i’ve ever written smut, so it’s probably terrible haha never thought i’d be writing anything explicit but i was not strong enough to resist this man. but i think this is a one and done type of thing. i do have a few other nikolai works in my drafts though, so if i ever get around to it, i’ll finish and post them

notes ii; i saw that s&b got cancelled :(( i’ve never seen it nor have i read any of the books… (sorry if nikolai is ooc) but hopefully i’ll get around to either of them eventually. mostly im sad bc there likely won’t be a resurgence in nikolai fics, and i already feel like i’m in a drought. i mean look at him!! (i <3 gif makers)

Nikolai is exhausted.

It’s late when he returns to his chambers. His mind is still filled with all the tasks he had performed that day while thinking about all the ones left for tomorrow. But his eyes had grown too bleary while staring at a document (a trade agreement perhaps?), reading the same line for the hundredth time before he was finally lured by the idea of slipping into bed with you. He was hoping he would come back before you went off to bed, but it was already well into the night, and you would be asleep by now. He enters your shared room and finds you sleeping the night away.

He’s not sure how you do it. He thinks the bed is much too big to sleep in alone and can no longer slip into a restful slumber without you. When Nikolai catches a glimpse of your face, soft and relaxed—not a worry in sight—his heart flutters. A smile curls his lips at the sight of you while he changes out of his clothes for the day.

Once he frees himself of his shirt and trousers, he slips on a soft pair of pants. He makes it towards the foot of the bed, noticing that the comforter was no longer tucked in. Instead, it pools around your calves. You’re laying on your side, hands tucked beneath your head. His hazel eyes stick onto the expanse of your skin, and before he realizes it, his fingers are delicately wrapping around your leg. You’re cold to the touch. He makes a move to cover your skin with the rest of the comforter.

However, you’re more enticing than you realize. He tells you so often. You find it difficult to believe, but it’s just the plain truth, and Nikolai is an honest man.

Most of the time, of course.

With a small breath, Nikolai pushes the blanket further up, revealing more and more of your legs. His eyes, tired but greedy, devour the sight. When he reaches past your thighs, his lips part when he realizes that you’re completely bare. You must have been waiting for him.

He nearly groans.

You had given him your explicit permission to do this before, but Nikolai had never been given the opportunity. Until now. Is this what you were hoping for when you fell into the land of dreams? Saints, the thought sends blood rushing down to his cock.

Your slit is now exposed to the cool air, and you squirm a little. His eyes glance up at your face, wondering if he had already woken you. No matter though, he wouldn’t mind having you either way. His fingers dance along your thighs, edging closer to your cunt. You’re gorgeous, he thinks before running a finger over your soft folds. When he reaches your hole though, he feels a familiar stickiness. Had you already touched yourself? Was that how you were able to fall asleep in this bed that was much too large for just one of you?

He collects some of your release on his finger. There’s not a lot that hasn’t already dried, but just enough to start circling your clit without too much friction (with some help from his saliva). He hears you breathe in deeply as he draws lazy circles with his finger. With his other hand, he palms himself through his pants, already hardening from both the sight and feel of you.

Part of him wants to see the rest of you, but he doesn’t want to leave you cold. He wonders if you’re wearing anything at all—the answer is likely not. It’s not long before you’re wet enough, and he’s able slip two entire fingers into you. You’re already clenching around his hand, a soft whimper leaving your pretty lips.

Nikolai could come from this alone.

You squirm again, unknowingly beginning to grind into his hand. Nikolai watches your lips part, the prettiest sounds escaping your mouth. You’re nearly there. He can feel you tightening around his fingers, but he won’t let you come just yet. Right before your peak, he takes his fingers out of you. Your legs shake as he rubs the skin of your thigh soothingly.

He shrugs off his trousers, stepping out of them and freeing himself. The tip of his cock is red, and he uses his fingers to smear the pre-cum around it. He groans slightly as he pumps himself. With little patience left, he lines himself up with your entrance and lets out a soft sigh at the feeling of your wetness.

He drags his cock through your cunt, gathering your arousal. He slips into your warmth with a sharp exhale, feeling your tight, wet walls squeezing him. Nikolai has half a mind not to curse, not wanting to wake you. He holds the side of your leg with his hand and fights the urge to shut his eyes. He holds himself still for a few moments, and yet they feel like an eternity.

He wants to watch himself slide in and out of you. He pulls his hips back until only the tip of him is left before pushing back into you deeply. Nikolai starts a steady rhythm, pleasurable but slow enough to keep him from spilling into you too quickly.

A whine leaves your mouth, your face scrunching at the feeling of being stretched and filled. “N-nikolai?” Your voice is raspy and filled with sleep as your hand reaches up to rub your eyes. You can barely keep them open. It’s adorable. His cock hits a sensitive spot, causing you to moan out. “Shit.”

“Darling,” he greets as if he’s not buried deep inside you. He grins down at you and starts to thrust into you faster.

Nikolai beams when a bright laugh comes from your lips.

“This is a surprise,” you murmur, grinding down onto him.

“A pleasant one, I hope?”

“Very. When did you get back?”

“Not long ago… I wanted to finish everything before you fell asleep, but there was a lot of work left to do. I saw you looking just lovely in our bed and decided to surprise you.”

You smile sympathetically, knowing how busy your king is. The blanket, which was bunched up over your torso, is moved to the side by you, exposing the rest of your body to his eyes. He’s right. You aren’t wearing anything at all. You turn onto your back and reach down, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m glad you did. Though I do think some rest is in order for you. You look terrible.”

He scoffs, sounding bewildered at the notion that he could look anything less than perfect. “Terrible? You wound me, wife.”

“Only for the sake of keeping you humble, my king.” You let out a chuckle which bleeds into a moan when he thrusts into a particular spot.

“There?” he asks, pushing into the same place once more.

Pleasantly, you sigh with a nod. “And I only meant ‘terrible’ in the sense that you look exhausted. Otherwise, I suppose you’re pretty perfect.”

A soft smile takes over his features. “I know, darling.”

You moan his name, pulling him down into a kiss. “You feel so good.”

He returns your kiss, grunting at how tightly your walls are clenching around him. His fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles. You cry out, and he swallows your sounds with another kiss.

“That’s it,” he coos as you bury your face in his shoulder.

“Nikolai,” you gasp. “I’m so—so close.”

“I know, darling. It’s going to feel so good. Let me take care of you.”

Nikolai feels your lips pressed against the column of his throat, placing wet kisses to his skin.

“Saints, please… I need you. I want you to fill me.”

He lets out a heavy groan, his eyes nearly rolling back as he moans out your name. “Don’t worry, I promise I will. Fuck, you’re so tight.” Nikolai begins to babble. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well… sound so pretty, so, so warm. Perfect… Shit, I’m close. You have to come first—Can you do that for me? Good girl.”

His fingers move even faster while he fucks himself into you. Your release hits you quickly as he pounds his length into your sopping cunt. You tighten around him, causing his hips to stutter before he finally spills himself inside of you. You whimper, feeling his hot cum fill you.

He collapses onto you, his cock still inside your spasming warmth. He wraps his arms around your body. It’s like he’s melted into you. You hold him close, both of your chests heaving. One of your hands finds a home in his blond curls, running your fingers through them in a way that always soothes him.

“I love you.”

He grins into your skin, pressing a kiss to your bare chest. “I love you too.”

A few minutes later, he pulls out, leaving you emptier than either of you would like. He stares down at your puffy lips, watching his cum drip out of you. In a daze, his fingers rub his release around your folds, eliciting a soft whine from you. He doesn’t know whether he wants to push it back inside you, to fill you up again, or to clean you up with his mouth.

He thinks all three would be agreeable.

Nikolai leaves a trail of kisses down your chest, stopping at your entrance. “Will you let me clean you up, darling?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You don’t mean with your mouth, do you?”

“C’mon, I haven’t gotten to do this in ages—and it’s my favorite. Let me taste you, love.” He says this between several kisses to your thighs.

You pull him closer, cupping his face with your hand and thumbing his cheekbone. “I just want to make sure you’re getting enough sleep, Kolya. You’re going to be so tired in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassures you, “and even better if you let me do this.”

He tries to stifle a grin. You’re unable to resist him or deny him of anything he wants, and he likes to exploit this fact from time to time. Alright, perhaps all the time—especially when what he wants is you. Who were you to keep him from his heart’s desires?

You sigh in defeat. “Okay, fine, but you’re sleeping in with me all morning.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he answers, knowing just as well that he couldn’t say no to you either.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips before he wraps them around your clit. He delights in the noises you make. Your legs nearly close around his head, but he places his hands on your thighs, keeping them spread. He licks between your folds, moaning at the taste of your shared release.

Nikolai looks up at you, meeting your gaze with a devious grin. “Darling, you taste delightful.”

“Nikolai,” you whine. “Please.”

The desperation in your voice is enough to make him hard again. He smiles, a softness in his eyes as he admires your blissed face. “Anything for you, darling,” he answers, putting his mouth back on your cunt, doing whatever he can to draw out those pretty noises from your lips again.

[wildfloweroutlaw]

Protective and Proud

~~~~~~~~~~

pairing: arthur morgan X female reader

drabble: arthur being protective

summary: when arthur and reader’s night is so rudely interrupted, arthur has to show his protective side.

a/n: sorry for the short writing hiatus, school kicked my ass this semester. this was originally just meant to help me get back into the swing of writing, but i figured i’d share in case someone enjoys it :)

word count: 1,652 words

~~~~~~~~~~

You impatiently shifted from one foot to the other, back pressed against the wooden hitching post just outside the sheriff’s office. The sun had already started its decent below the mountains in the distance a while ago, leaving the street lamps to cast a soft yellow glow on the town of Valentine. A few people still meandered about in the street, but for the most part the town was empty. Save for the saloon of course, you often found yourself glancing that way to observe the drunken citizens coming in and out of the swinging saloon doors, laughter and music filtering out into otherwise quiet night.

You fished in your pocket for your watch, glancing down at the little hands that read 7:30. Arthur had told you to meet him here at 7 p.m sharp for a drink or two. You shoved the watch back into your pocket, sighing dramatically, though you urged yourself to be more patient. You can’t even blame the poor man for being late, you know he works himself half to death each day. Hell he probably hasn’t even had time to glance at his watch today. You pulled a cigarette out of the pack in your saddle bag, lighting it up. You absentmindedly stroked your horse’s neck as you puffed a cloud of smoke into the cool night air.

“Thought you was quitting?”, A gruff voice from behind you interrupted your thoughts.

The sudden intrusion made you jump slightly and you quickly turned to see your cowboy walking towards you, reins in hand and the usual smirk plastered to his handsome face.

“Yeah well… maybe next week.” You grinned with a shrug, cigarette dangling out of the corner of your mouth.

Arthur approached the hitching post, tying off his horse alongside yours. “You know…”, he reached forward, pulling the cigarette from your lips and placing them between his own, “these ain’t good for ya darling.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, and you were quick to close the gap between the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his thick torso, burying your face in his chest. “Missed you.”

Arthur’s hands snaked around your waist, one hand gently stroking your back. “I missed you too sweet heart. Sorry I was late, Marston had me running all over the county chasing some damn sheep.”

You released your grip on him, grinning at the obvious annoyance that laced his voice. “I’m scared to even ask.”

“I’ll tell ya about it over drinks, c’mon.” Arthur snuffed out the stolen cigarette and motioned towards the lively saloon. You happily made your way towards the commotion and the smell of liquor, Arthur following closely beside you.

Upon approaching the saloon doors, Arthur pushed one open and held it for you, allowing you to lead the way. The sudden turn of heads and lingering eyes from the men in the bar were not lost on him, far for it actually. Though you always seemed to either not notice or not care about the curious eyes of strangers, Arthur actually enjoyed it, he absolutely loved being seen with you.

Arthur knew you were so much more than just something pretty to hang on his arm. However, he couldn’t help but to love the feeling he got when he saw the way other men looked at the pair of you, though he’d never admit it. The way they oozed jealousy watching you dote over him, kiss on him, hell even just stand next to him, it was something he’d never experienced before. Arthur never thought there was much about himself to be proud of you. But you, you made him feel special. There was nothing he enjoyed more than to be able to boast about his claim on you. You were his and he was going to make damn sure everyone in here knew it.

Arthur placed a large rough hand upon the small of your back, keeping you close to him as he guided you towards the edge of the bar. He was quick to get the bar keeps attention, ordering you both a glass of whiskey. Arthur was happy to chatter a long with you while you both nursed your drinks. He’d barely seen you all week and was eager to catch up with his favorite girl.

Though the bar was loud, you were only focused on Arthur. The way he intently listened every time you spoke, the way he would often lean in closer just to hear you a bit better, the way his arm always found it’s way around your waist: he was perfect to you in every way. You leaned up to pepper a few kisses along his bearded jawline as he spoke. Suddenly remembering Arthur’s promise from earlier, you quickly pulled away.“Oh! Arthur the sheep! You never told me what the hell you were doing with the sheep.”

Arthur had never met anyone who took such an interest in him and his stories before. Perhaps that’s why he’s always been so taken with you, you seemed to be one of the only people in the world who wanted to know more about him.“Well, Marston had this bright idea, and that’s never a good thing…” he chuckled a little at his own joke, promoting you to roll your eyes. “He figured that we could make a pretty penny by-“

“Miss? ‘Scuse me miss!” An extremely intoxicated man stumbled his way beside you at the bar, much to close for your’s or Arthur’s liking.

“Yes?”, confused, you turned to face him. His face was red and his eyes glassy.

“Miss I-I couldn’t help but to notice you. I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink.” His words slightly slurred together and he propped one elbow up on the bar clumsily.

Still confused you glanced from the man to Arthur and back again. “I’m sorry mister but I’m spoken for.” You tried to be as polite as possible and you figured the man was just too drunk to notice you were there with Arthur.

“Spoken for by who?” The man dramatically studied the room.

You nodded up to Arthur who was standing protectively behind you, so close his chest almost pressed to your back.

“You see… that’s what I was a-suspectin’. But then I thought to myself there was jus’ no way a pretty woman like you’d be here with him.” The man leaned in a little closer to speak just to you, a devilish grin on his face.

You were quick to furrow your brow in confusion.

Arthur chuckled a bit behind you. “Alright buddy you’ve made your point. Now if ya don’t mind we’d like to enjoy the rest of our night”. Arthur did his best to keep it light hearted, but it was hard to disguise his dour tone.

The man made no indication he had heard what Arthur was saying, instead he proceeded to rake his eyes over you. “Miss… I will say, you’re even prettier up close.”

You felt Arthur’s arm around your waist tighten and his chest press into your back as he leaned slightly closer to this nuisance of a man.

“You got fuckin’ hearin’ problems or somethin’?” This time Arthur’s voice was a bit more stern and you could tell he was growing annoyed at the continuous interruption.

This time the guy glanced up at Arthur, but only for a second, for his gaze was back on you in an instant. “Look miss, you give me 5 good minutes and I’ll show you what you’re missing out on.”

Arthur pulled you behind him, positioning himself between you and the drunken bastard. “She said she was spoken for. Now are you gonna fuck off or am I gonna have to embarrass you in front of the lady?” Arthur nodded back to you.

His voice had deepened to that gravely tone he used in very few scenarios, and you found yourself growing a bit hot under the collar in response. You loved when he spoke like that, it damn near sent chills up your spine.

The man raised his hands defensively, “Alright alright… was just having some fun mister.” Deciding you weren’t worth the brawl that was sure ensure, he began to stalk off.

Arthur was quick to grab ahold of the man’s shoulder, pulling him back and glaring down at him. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood fella. Come back over here and I will break your god damn jaw.” Arthur spoke low, attempting to shield you from his harsh words. He shoved the man on his way and turned to give his attention back to you. “Ya okay darlin?”

You heard it all, and the butterflies proceeded to flutter in your stomach. Seeing him so protective of you, it did things to you that you couldn’t explain. You nodded and turned to face the bar, attempting to hide the blush that had crept up on your face.

Arthur moved to stand behind you, arms on either side to cage you against the bar. “You sure do cause a lot of trouble y’know.” He teased, stooping to affectionally press a kiss to your temple. “Can’t take ya out nowhere.” Arthur smiled to himself. He was so proud to be a protector, and even prouder to have something as special as you to protect.

You knew Arthur was trying to be sweet, as he was always extremely sweet. However, the only thing you could think about was his deep timber voice, his willingness to fight for you, to kill for you, and of course his looming figure pressed up behind you. You tried not to dwell on the fact that there was a growing pressure between your legs, and instead pressed your glass to your lips and took a big swig. You cleared your throat awkwardly, “You uh- you still owe me a sheep story”.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

hii! i saw your post where someone requested a fluff and cuddles fic because of the reader’s insomnia with sabo , ace, law and sanji

i’d like to request the same but with sir crocodile, fluff and cuddles :0

sir crocodile would definitely stay awake until Y/N falls asleep, maybe humming them to sleep and going through their hair with his hand, holding Y/N in his arms like a cocoon

i can imagine Y/N also gets comforted by hearing Sir Crocodiles breathing

maybe in a cold winter night ? (more reasons to cuddle, body warmth hehe)

i hope this gives you some ideas to write - i’d be really happy to read another crocodile x reader by you

thank you for your awesome stories, can’t wait to see more ^^

have a nice day!! :D

Hey, so this wasn't long enough with just Crocodile so I included Cora-san as well. I hope that's okay, but it's still fluffy with lots of cuddles, I promise.

Word Count: 920

     This was nothing new to you, you’d had insomnia for years. Endless hours laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to sleep, wishing to sleep. All you wanted was to get to sleep without issue, but things never seemed to work out for you. Slowly getting up, you headed out of the room you shared with your boyfriend. He had other things to worry about that weren’t you and your inability to get to sleep. The man loved you dearly and would have done anything for you without a second thought, including staying up with you, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to wake him up. 

     Walking out onto the terrace, you sighed, leaning against the railing. You might not be able to sleep, but at least you could enjoy the silvery glow of the moonlight dancing on the petals of flowers. Closing your eyes, you let the cool night air blow through your hair as the moon cast you in the same silvery light as the flora below you. Maybe it was because you were always awake, but you’d come to enjoy the chill breeze and bright moon. Even on nights of the new moon, when everything was cast in darkness, there was something ethereal about it all. 

Crocodile

     A pair of large arms wrapped around you the metal where a wrist and hand should be immediately tipping you off to who it was. As always, he removed the hook before sleep, not wanting to hurt either of you in the middle of the night. 

     “What are you doing out of bed?” his gruff voice asked, clearly still sleepy.

     “Couldn’t sleep.” you said softly, enjoying the feeling of being in his protective embrace. A few seconds ticked past before you noticed it, a slight hum. You turned to look at the man, his eyes closed as he continued to hold you close. Most people thought of Crocodile as a monster, an evil pirate, someone to be feared and avoided; and while he was a pirate and somebody strong enough to be feared, he wasn’t the evil monster that people said. At least not to you. Taking a moment to just listen to him, you didn’t notice him picking you up, becoming sleepier and sleepier with each passing moment. Crocodile laid you down in the bed, getting in as well and curling up with you. The barest hint of musical notes left his throat as he wrapped his large arms around you once again, pulling you close and stroking your hair. Cuddled up to his chest, you could hear the song better, it was one you’d heard before, a small, sweet lullaby. Slowly, you began to drift off, something about the lullaby and his large, protective arms lulling you to sleep. Maybe you could get him to do this again, you’d have to admit that it was more than just a one night thing, but it would be worth it to fall asleep in his arms like this.

Cora-san

     The sounds of someone tripping and falling had you chuckling as you turned around and walked over to your blond lover. As always, he’d tripped over his own two feet and had hit the ground right at the door to the terrace.

     “Careful, my love.” you said softly, helping him up.

     “Sorry, I wanted to find you. You weren’t in bed.” he said softly. You smiled at him, feeling a little bad for leaving the bed and waking him.

     “I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m just…” you looked away as you bit your lip, “I can’t sleep.” you said softly, making the man chuckle.

     “You know you could have made tea or something, it’s cold out here.” he said with a large, goofy smile, grabbing his feather coat and wrapping it around your shoulders. Giving him a sad smile, you shook your head, pulling the warm coat around you.

     “I don’t just mean tonight, Rosi, I mean every night.” you said, using his actual name and not the name he was using at the time. His brow furrowed as he looked at you, you always had troubles sleeping?

     “Is there anything I can do?” he asked worriedly, pulling you close. Shaking your head, you wrapped your arms around him.

     “I don’t think so, it’s just something I deal with. It’s okay, don’t worry.” you said, taking a deep breath. Cora picked you up a moment later before heading inside. Even with his coat wrapped around you, he was afraid of you getting too cold. Sitting you down on the couch, he put some logs in the fireplace and, after setting his hat on fire twice, managed to start a fire in the brick alcove. Once again picking you up, he pulled you close to him as he laid on the couch, letting you lay on top of him, his coat somehow covering the both of you. Staring into the fire, you felt a sense of warm comfort wash over you. Laying here in his arms, the warm fire and coat bringing you comfort and safety, as if nothing could touch you in this moment. Glancing down at you, Cora smiled, you were fast asleep in his arms, your soft breaths making him drowsier as well. As much as he wanted to move you to the bed, he knew he’d probably trip, so he held you close, falling asleep with you on the couch, more than happy to help you get to sleep for once.

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 1

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 6,739

Rating: M - language, mature content, (talk of death and supernatural things, deception, Tom being his usually smarmy self)

Summary: After your arrival in Florida, you've got some things to take care of. First, you need to find a place to live ... then comes the rest.

Author’s note:

I'm so excited to start posting this story. I'm so excited to share more of these two with You. I have no idea how long it'll end up being, but I do have the whole thing outlined, it's just a matter of writing it.

This one is dedicated to @the-blind-assassin-12 - who dropped the idea in my inbox (not sharing that yet because it gives away something important)... and I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

This *is* going to be a spooky story overall - but chapters will be marked clearly with necessary warnings.

This is a set up chapter... but it's necessary. I promise.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras')

The phone rang three times before it went to voicemail.

The recording was an artificially cheerful man’s voice telling you that he was sorry he’d missed you, but if you left a short message with your name, a good contact number, and the reason for your call, he’d get back to you as soon as possible. Standard operating procedure. Alright.

Taking a deep breath, you stared toward the window. Maybe he’s showing a house. “Hi, Tom. I’m just calling because I saw one of your commercials last night, and I’m looking for a place to rent.” You paused and stood, pacing as you spoke. “I just need a one bedroom or an efficiency. I’ll be in the Tampa area for at least a couple months for work, so something month to month would be great.” You took another breath and then nodded, deciding that was enough for the voicemail. “If you could give me a call back, I’d appreciate it, even if it’s just to tell me you can’t help me out. Thanks.” 

You ended the message with your name and phone number, and once you’d hung up, you tossed your phone back onto the unmade bed, crossing your arms. 

Florida was the last place you wanted to be, but after a series of leads hadn’t panned out in a neighboring state, it seemed like your only option. And now I have a few weeks to look into things before … I have to worry. 

Your eyes flicked over to the small duffel bag that contained all of your notes and research, along with your laptop. But instead of unzipping it, you reached for your shoulder bag and then your phone - dropping the device into it after turning the ringer on. “I’ll deal with it later.” 

Speaking to the empty room, you slipped your feet into shoes and then headed for the door. The area you were staying in was typical for a suburb on the outskirts of Tampa, but you wanted to explore, even if that just meant driving around aimlessly for the rest of the morning. 

A few minutes later and based on the results of a quick Reddit search, you were behind the wheel and heading toward somewhere called Carrolwood. As you drove, you thought about the failure in Louisiana, the phone tag you’d been playing with your cousin Alec, and the fact that even after years of searching, you still felt no closer to your goal. 

“But at least I have the books.” Groaning as you stopped a a red light, you drummed your fingers against the wheel, shaking your head. “And the website.” 

That made you roll your eyes - as it did often - but by the time you’d parked and walked into Foxtail Coffee Co., you were focused again. Even though you left your main research in the hotel, you always carried a notebook and pen with you… and you planned on making the most of the time in the coffee shop. 

Once you had your drink - and a breakfast sandwich - you settled in at a table and put your headphones in, reaching into your bag for the notebook and a pen once you’d chosen a playlist. Make a plan. Make another list. Start small. Do what you always do.

Flipping past the previous few days of entries, you stared down at a blank page, chewing on your lower lip. 

There wasn’t much you could do until you’d established a home base, and you had no intention of that being a Holiday Inn. You’d be able to take care of the small shopping list you’d jotted down, but there was no point in moving everything into your hotel room and then back out a few days later when you found a place. If I find one.

Leaving Louisiana wasn’t something you’d planned on, and if you were being honest, the sudden change had thrown you off more than any previous pivot in your search had. You’d settle in - and your stress level would drop - over the following few days, but until then, you just had to push through it. Nothing else I can do.

Deciding that you’d start with making a list of potential places you wanted to visit, you unlocked your phone and picked up the pen, tapping it on the page, 

Before you could make a search, a call from an unfamiliar number popped up on the screen. It interrupted your song, and after a few seconds, you recognized it as Tom’s. That was fast. 

“Hello?” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then you heard him clear his throat before he spoke. 

“Hi, this is Tom Davis. I’m returning a call you made about finding an apartment?” There was some shuffling, and then he continued. “If you give me some more information about yourself and what you’re looking for, I can make a list of properties to show you.” 

“Hi. Yeah, that was me.” Taking a sip of your coffee, you watched as a young couple made an order, the man’s arm around a woman’s shoulders. “Thanks for calling back so fast, I figured it would take a while.”

“Nope. I had a client cancel this morning, so I’m free right now.” Lucky me. “Go ahead. Hit me. Tell me what you need, and I’ll see if I can make it happen for you.” Wrinkling your nose at the false excitement in his voice, you closed your eyes. You need a place to stay, and this is a good lead. Just deal with it. 

“Like I said, I really only need something for one person. I’m in Tampa doing some research for a book and my website, and my focus is on local tourism. I need somewhere kind of close to a highway, and centrally located based on bigger areas of interest - parks, waterways, museums, things like that. Restaurants and bars are good too, but I’ll have to drive around and find those myself, so … that’s not as important.” You paused, thinking. “My budget’s flexible, and this is going to be really short term… no longer than six months on the long end, honestly, is what I’m thinking. I’ll need a parking space and would prefer air conditioning, but aside from that, it doesn’t matter if it’s an apartment or a loft.” 

“Would you be open to renting a room?” He cleared his throat. “There’s a lot of older people around here, and a couple listings I have are for rooms in people’s houses with shared common space.” 

“I’ve never done that before. And my hours aren’t exactly set, so it might not be a good idea.” He agreed, humming. “A guest house might work, though. Or an in-law suite on a property? I don’t know if people down here have those or -” 

“You know what?” He laughed, the sound the most genuine thing that you’d heard from him. “People do. There’s no way in hell I’d ever want my mother in law livin’ that close to me, but it’s more common than you think.” You heard keys clicking, and a few seconds later, Tom spoke again. “I’ve got a couple listings that might work for you, if you want to set up a time to meet.” 

“That fast?” Jaw dropping, you checked the time on your phone. It’s not even eleven yet. “When can you fit me in?” 

“Where are you at right now?” He paused and then laughed again. “That sounded weird. Sorry. I work out of Riverbend, not that that will mean anything to you, but depending on how far away you are, I -”

“I’m in Carrolwood at the moment.” You interrupted him, pushing the notebook away. Could it be this easy? “I have no idea where that is in relation to you.” 

“You’re only about fifteen minutes away.” He cleared his throat. “I can give you the address of a coffee shop close by and we can meet there and I can show you your options before you decide whether or not you wanna see any of them?” 

It made sense. Rather than driving around aimlessly, he was making things easier on you - which you appreciated. “Sure, Tom. Just send me the address and I’ll head there now.”   

— 

Twenty minutes later, you were parked in the lot in front of a Dunkin’, slowly finishing the remainder of your coffee from earlier. 

You were debating over ordering a second - and a donut - when an older model pickup pulled into the lot and turned into the space next to you. Moments later, the same man from the commercial rounded the back of the vehicle, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the end of the bed. 

“Here we go.” You got out then, the man’s attention turning toward you and the relaxed expression turning into a wide, lopsided smile as he extended one hand and introduced himself. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”

“Yeah, you too.” His grin widened when you shook hands with him, and then he used his other one to gesture to he restaurant. “Want to go inside? I’ve got my laptop.” 

You agreed and when the two of you were seated at a table - fresh drinks for both of you - he opened the device and turned the screen so that you could see it. 

Over the next few minutes, he clicked through a short list of available options, and you did your best to pay attention to what he was saying. But I can’t focus. There was something off about him - the falsity of his cheeriness and the speed that he’d been able to accommodate the meeting were somewhat concerning. But maybe I’m just rattled by this whole thing because it’s unexpected. Maybe it’s just a me thing. 

“Honestly, I’d probably go for one of these three,” he said, interrupting your thoughts as he pointed to the screen. “MacFarlane, South Tampa and Tampa Heights put you close to 275 and downtown. A couple of my buddies live nearby, and they haven’t complained, either.” He grinned again. “The apartment’s vacant, so we could go see it right now, and the other two have lockboxes with codes, so I don’t need to make an appointment or anything.” He paused and then frowned, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to sound forward, because I’m not trying to be.” Wiggling his fingers, your attention was drawn to the ring on one of them. “But it’ll be faster if we go in one car, and since I know my way around the city…” 

“I’d rather drive myself, actually.” You took a drink and then set your cup down, shrugging. “Nothing against you, but if I’m going to be here for a while, I need to get used to traffic and start learning my way around.” He nodded once, the man’s eyes on your face. “Besides, if we drive separate, you don’t have to worry about dropping me off before you get back to whatever else you’ve got going on this afternoon.”

“Makes sense. Just thought I’d offer.” He drained his cup and then returned to the laptop, finally looking away. “I’ll send you the addresses so you have them, but if you want to follow me, that’ll be good, too.” That was fine with you, and once your phone pinged with the list, the two of you stood and headed back outside. “We’ll start with South Tampa first and then work our way back up. Sound good?” 

“Yep.” Glancing up at the sky, you took a moment to appreciate the warmth of the sun, and then met Tom’s gaze again. “Sounds perfect.” Maybe in a couple hours, I’ll know where I’m staying for the next few months. 

— 

The South Tampa apartment was nice, but it didn’t feel right to you - and you told him as much. 

“I’m not surprised. This was my least favorite of the three.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “I personally don’t like that it’s ground level. And a lot of my clients - single women, parents with small kids - don’t either.” 

“I just don’t like the size of it.” You pointed down the hallway. “The kitchen’s a closet. And I know I can’t really expect a lot from what I’m looking to rent, but…” That took him by surprise, but then he nodded again, pushing upright. 

“Fair enough. Come on. We’ll go to MacFarlane next.” The man locked the door behind you, and when you were in the parking lot again, he spoke up. “You said you were looking for bars and restaurants for work, right?” Confirming, you waited to see what he’d say next. “Couple of my old military buddies own a bar down here called Ironhead’s. You should check it out, maybe you’ll like it.” 

“Thank you, Tom.” You pulled your phone out, making a note for later. “Are they the ones that live here?” 

“One of ‘em, yeah. Benny lives closer to downtown, but Will and his wife have a place about ten minutes south of here.” He gestured to his truck, unlocking the door. “See you at the next place?” 

The drive was short, but it still gave you time to think, the caffeine from both coffees surging through you. 

If the apartment that you’d just seen was the worst of the three options, you were in good shape. And if he told me to go see his friends’ bar, that means I have an in with someone that lives in the area. And they might be able to tell me more. 

That was all you had time for, your GPS alerting you to the fact that you’d arrived, pulling up just behind Tom in the driveway. 

“This one’s new on the market and it’s a studio, but it’s on someone’s property. They travel a lot for work, so you probably wouldn’t see or hear ‘em much.” He typed in the code and then stepped to the side, letting you head in first. “The layout’s not complicated, and I really like all the windows.” 

You did, too - sunlight streaming in, soft carpet in the main living space, the bed tucked behind a low wall to give you a semblance of privacy. Not that anyone would visit. “The kitchen’s nice.” You stepped through it and into the bathroom, flipping the switch. “And the shower is, too.” He moved to stand behind you, though he kept some distance. 

“This one includes Internet, and it says the TV’s one of the smart models, so you can watch whatever with your own accounts.” That would be helpful, and you told him so, turning back to face the man. “There’s a small covered porch around back, just so if you sit outside and the owners are home, you aren’t in view of the house.” 

That got your attention - you liked sitting outside and going over notes, liked looking up at the moon and stars while you worked. And if no one’s staring, that’s even better. “Well this is at the top of my list.” You smiled, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. “What’s the catch?”

“Football traffic.” He sighed. “Noise from the airport.” Oh. Shit. “Season’s about to start soon, so the highways might get a little backed up on game days. And the planes … well that’s self explanatory.” 

“Damn.” Frowning, you closed your eyes. “Alright. Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

You left soon after, you and the man pausing in the driveway while he locked the door, and then Tom turned to you. “The third place is also a guest house, but it’s a little bigger than this one.” He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes on you. “It’s also a little more expensive, but that’s because of the neighborhood.” 

“What about it?” Price wasn’t something you were worried about, because you’d purposely given him a lower number than you could afford. “Tom?” 

“It’s one of the oldest neighborhoods in Tampa, so it’s got a lot of … shit in it.” He winced. “Sorry. Sometimes I just …” You waved him off and he continued. “More bars. Restaurants. A ton of parks. The river’s right there, but the place you’re looking at is further north than a lot of it.” He scrolled through his phone and then nodded. “You’re closer to Seminole than I thought, which is real close to another of my buddies - Frankie.” 

“Another military friend?” He nodded in agreement. “Did you help them all find houses, too?”

“No. Well, Benny, yes. But Will and his wife found their place on their own. Frankie bought kind of on a whim, and went straight through the seller. Pope … is splitting his time between here and where his girl lives, so he’s still living in his parents’ place.” Tom ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be honest. I’ve only been doing this for a couple years, and I kind of suck at it. I just needed something to keep myself busy after I retired, so I’m still learning.” 

You appreciated the honesty, and for the first time, you felt yourself truly warming up to the man. Took long enough. “Well then, Tom, let’s go see this last place. Sounds like it’s got a lot going for it.” 

— 

You wanted the Tampa Heights rental, and it took everything in you to remain calm about it. 

It was almost a studio, but he hadn’t been lying when he said it was larger. 

“They converted a poolhouse, I think.” The two of you were in the living room, Tom leaning against a wall while you looked around. “When they filled in the pool, there was no need for it to exist.” 

“So they redid this. Smart.” You peeked into the kitchen area, smiling at the sight of the larger refrigerator. “I like that the bedroom’s got a door. This room is bright, and that would make it kind of hard to sleep.” He agreed with you, the man staying put as you stepped into the bedroom, eyeing the setup. 

It wasn’t ornately furnished, but the bed looked comfortable. You had a small closet and dresser, and there was a second TV mounted to the wall. I want this place. “Internet’s included here, too.” He called to you from the other room, the man’s voice carrying. “The back of this place has some trees between it and the road, but it shouldn’t be too loud because it’s a neighborhood street. And then you’ve got the private entrance and driveway, and a couple more trees that keep the house mostly hidden.” 

“It feels comfortable.” You reentered the room where Tom was, one hand on your hip. “I could see myself staying here.” Wetting your lips, you looked around again. “I think this is it, Tom.” 

“Yeah?” His eyes widened. “You sure?”

“I don’t want to stay in the hotel for any longer than necessary, and this place meets my requirements, so yeah. As long as the owners are alright with a short term renter, I think … I’d like to apply for it.” 

For the next few minutes, the two of you talked over the process - submitting a background check with your application, getting in touch with the owners, the timeline you hoped to move in during … and then Tom cleared his throat, saying your name. “It’s all contingent on everything coming back good, but a lot of owners like seeing money upfront. So, say you wanted to approach them with three months guaranteed and then month to month afterward for a certain period of time, paying upfront for the first -”

“I can pay upfront.” You held out both hands, raising and lowering your shoulders. “My last book did pretty well, and the website’s thriving, so… Three months plus a deposit is doable, Tom.” He looked surprised at that but made a note of it, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips as he wrote. 

“Another thing is that Fis… Frankie’s always telling me that when he jumps on the highway to go to and from work, it’s not terrible, and he’s going toward downtown.”

“Yeah? He works downtown?” It was an innocent question, but Tom’s answer floored you. 

“No. He’s a pilot, and he works out of an airport south of the city, on Davis Islands?” A pilot? Did I hit the lottery coming here? 

“He must not be home much, then.” You took a seat on the couch, looking around again. “Flying out of -”

“He can fly just about anything, but no. He does helo tours so he’s home every day.” Your jaw dropped, head snapping toward the man. “What? Why that look?”

“Tom, one of the notes in my outline for Tampa is to find a company that does tours so I can get a bird’s eye view of different parts of the city.” You laughed. “Unbelievable, right? But I like to include different things when I write about places, and I figured that since there’s so much to see here, that would be perfect.” And I need to see these waterways, so… 

“It would.” He eyed you for a few seconds and then nodded slowly. “I have one of his flyers in my truck. I’ll give it to you and then you can get in touch with him and see if he can help you. I don’t know if there’s a referral discount or anything like that, but…” Tom shrugged. “It’ll get you in the air and you don’t need to spend time lookin’ for a different company.” 

Dumbfounded, all you could do was stare at him, both hands on your knees. An apartment and a pilot in the same day? What are the odds? “I… yeah. That would be… Thank you.” 

He winked at you and then pushed off of the wall, pointing at the door. “If you’re sure about wanting this place, we don’t need to stick around. The sooner I get back to my office, the sooner I can send over the papers for you to fill out and we can get going. It’s Sunday, so we probably won’t hear anything back until Tuesday at the earliest. Then we’d have to wait for the results of your background check, so…” 

“Sounds good.” You were excited - more excited than you’d been in weeks, and the urge to get back to the hotel room and start planning was almost overwhelming. “I honestly didn’t expect to find anything so fast, so… this is great.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” He locked the door and then led you to the driveway, walking to the passenger side of his truck.”I’ll just need you to text me your email address, and we can get started.” You did that immediately, fingers flying over the keys while he opened the door and reached into his glovebox. “This has the email and the office number on there, but I’m gonna…” He grunted, leaning further into the truck. “I’m going to write his cell number down, too.” 

Tom stood back up and faced you, holding out a single piece of paper. You took it, eyes dropping to read what it said - and when you saw the main image, you froze, inhaling sharply. Well there’s something else I wasn’t expecting. 

It was a standard flyer - brightly colored and designed to grab a person’s attention. 

But the most standout part of it was Frankie himself. Or whoever that is, anyway. Even on paper, the man was attractive, his dark hair and eyes striking. Fly with Fish? Wonder what that’s about. “Lots of options for flights,” you murmured, chewing on one corner of your lip. “He looks … focused.” Glancing back up at Tom, you saw that he was watching you intently, eyes narrowed. Weird, but alright. “Thank you.” 

“Let me get a pen, and I’ll give you his personal number. Then you don’t have to go through the -”

“No. This is fine.” Waving the paper, you shook your head. “I appreciate it, but I don’t want to just call someone out of the blue and start asking them work questions on a personal line.” And having his number would be … tempting.

“Your call. Just thought I’d offer.” Tom slipped a hand into his pocket, watching you. “Check your email when you get back to the hotel. You’ll gave paperwork waiting. If you fill it out today, just shoot me a text and let me know and I’ll move it along.” 

You agreed, folding up Frankie’s ad and sticking it in your bag. For later. “I will. And thank you, Tom. For helping me out. I’ll be sure to mention you on the site and in the book.” 

He laughed at that, reaching out to shake your hand again. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve still got to make sure you’re approved.” True. You were about to open your mouth again when his phone rang, the man reaching for it without hesitation. “This is Tom.” Holding up a hand and waving as you mouthed the words thank you, you backed up and headed for your car. 

You had high hopes for the apartment - you knew your background check would come back without issue and you had the money to cover the down payment. So maybe only a few more days in the hotel. That would be… amazing. 

And as you backed out of the driveway, the GPS guiding you back to where you were staying, you couldn’t help thinking about everything Tom had told you about his friends - especially Frankie. He’d specifically mentioned his and Will’s wives, and Pope’s girlfriend. But nothing for Benny and Frankie. That didn’t mean that the pilot was single, but it increased the chances immensely. Not that it matters, though. 

You’d had your fair share of short term relationships, hooking up with men while you were staying in a city and searching, but they’d always been with strangers. Not someone that I might need to work with.  Eyeing the traffic around you, you rolled your eyes. And he might not even be interested anyway. 

Once back in the hotel, you checked your email to see if there was anything from Tom. 

There wasn’t - and so you decided to start doing some actual research. You pulled out your laptop and got situated at the small workstation near the window, notes scattered around you as you scrolled. 

It didn’t take long for you to get lost in the thing that had consumed your life for as long as you could remember - the search for the line of wolves that had attacked and turned your family upside down nearly 150 years prior. 

It wasn’t that none of the wolves had ever been found. Your family had had success - they’d killed the one that turned your great-great-great grandmother almost immediately… but the damage had been done. 

As the years passed, and your family learned more and more about the supernatural world that existed only in the worst nightmares of most people, it became clear that just like with regular people, certain creatures made it a point to make the lives of others miserable. 

They also often relied on their underlings to carry out their orders, as was the case of your family’s unfortunate involvement. 

After being bitten, your 3rd-great grandmother had hidden it from her husband, attempting to deal with it herself. That hadn’t worked, and since she’d been alone and scared for every transformation before anyone had figured it out, she’d done a lot of damage in her town and the surrounding areas to both people and livestock. 

That resulted in the need for your entire family line to flee to a new place - uprooting their lives in more ways than one all at once. 

Your family had been as accepting as possible of the change in the status quo, but secrecy regarding her condition had resulted in strained relationships long term, even after making attempts to eliminate the wolves responsible. But we could only do so much. 

You flipped through your notes again, one finger running down the page margin and lingering on the list of things you were looking for - bites in certain areas, broken bones in the feet and ankles, unusually gruesome remains - and then checked it against the meager information you’d been able to compile from the recent cases in Florida. 

When you’d been clued in on the family mission, you’d been skeptical - not that werewolves and other things like them could exist, but that it was possible that one line of wolves was the only one responsible for those types of kills. Because it seems like they’d all do things like this. 

Letting out a sigh, you flipped one notebook closed and pulled out a leatherbound one from years earlier - the property of your great, great grandfather - and scanned the small, neat script that filled the pages. Not all of them are bloodthirsty monsters, though. 

It had taken some time - your first bitten relative long dead by then - but someone in your family had made contact with other wolves, convincing them to meet and have a conversation before anyone acted rashly. 

That conversation was the basis for everything that you were still practicing a century later. 

It turned out that multiple packs existed - each of them descended from a unique line that could be traced back to the beginning. Except for one. The woman that had met with your 2nd-great grandfather had been clear about many things, and laying the blame for the bad reputation most wolves had solely on what wolves in the community called the Chaos line was only one of them. 

She’d expressed disappointment that your family was seeking out wolves with the intent to end them, but understood the sentiment - because they were looking, too … and had had no better luck overall. 

That meeting - and a tenuous working relationship - between your family and that contact’s line had sustained the search for years. But as times changed, the wolves became less willing to work with humans looking to harm their kind. They’d assured your relatives that they would handle it, that they could be counted on, and that they wouldn’t interfere with your search for no reason … but that the sharing of information would stop. 

That hadn’t gone over well, but luckily cooler heads on both sides had prevailed. Though you no longer had assistance from your former allies, they kept their distance - and you were careful to ensure that when (and if) you acted on information, you weren’t seeking out the wrong wolves. 

In almost 75 years, there hadn’t been a misstep, and you were determined not to be the one that broke that record. “But I also need to find the source of that line.” Covering your face with both hands, you took a deep breath. “And it’s hard.” 

You had a sneaking suspicion that Alec was still somehow meeting with one of the wolves and getting information from them, even if it wasn’t consistent. It would have explained how he always seemed to have a new, somewhat established lead, and why the two of you never seemed to be in the same place at the same time. But everyone searches a little differently, so maybe not. 

Glancing over at the window, you were surprised to see that the sunlight had shifted, more time than you’d thought passing while you reviewed notes. “Shit.” Swearing again, you checked your email, finding that Tom had sent over paperwork nearly an hour earlier. 

It was straightforward, and only took you a few minutes to fill out and send back, along with a text - just liked he’d asked. That done, you decided to stop for the day. Except … You reached for your bag and pulled the folded paper out, climbing into bed and leaning against the headboard while you stared at it. 

In all the locations you’d been on your search, things hadn’t ever fallen into place as easily as they had in only one day in Florida. Part of you wondered if it was sign that things were about to go off the rails, but another part of you believed that things were happening because they were supposed to - because you’d finally pieced something together correctly, and were on the right track. 

Frankie’s flyer included a website address, and after typing it into your phone’s browser, you spent a few minutes reading through it. It was more detailed - cost breakdowns, sample routes, gift package options and client testimonials were all listed in an easy to navigate format - and you appreciated the effort that had gone into the creation of the site. But even if it was a mess, the fact that he looks like that would make a lot of people overlook it. 

His safety record and qualifications were extensive, and even though the majority of the photos on the site had been taken from the air and were of landscapes, there were a few more of him, too. One of them was of the man leaning against the side of a helicopter, a button down shirt open over an undershirt, both arms crossed over his chest. 

He was smiling in that one, a genuine expression that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and exposed a dimple on one cheek, and at the sight of it, you acted. Within mere seconds of clicking on the “email for more information” link, you were typing furiously, lips pressed together in concentration. 

Hi, Frankie. I was referred to you by your friend Tom this afternoon while he was showing me some apartments. I’m looking to book some flight time with you, but what would work best for me is one of the custom flight plans, I think. I can explain more over the phone, so please give me a call whenever you can. Thanks! 

You sent it - along with your full name and phone number - before you could second guess yourself. That done, you exhaled, rubbing your fingers against your forehead. It hadn’t been a wasted day by any means, but you still felt uneasy being idle - even though there was nothing else for you to do. 

With a quick glance at the clock, you got up and took the few steps back to your laptop, unplugging it and then carrying it into the bed. I can start making a list of bars and restaurants. I’ll need that. 

Starting the same playlist you’d had on that morning, you opened up a spreadsheet and Google, getting ready to settle in, start your list - and figure out something for dinner that night. 

But you’d barely added anything to it before your phone rang, the device vibrating on the mattress next to one knee. The number was unfamiliar, even though the area code was the same as Tom’s, so you picked it up, clearing your throat as you answered. “Hello?” 

“Hey, this is…” He cleared his throat, too, and then hummed. “This is Frankie Morales, I’m calling you back about the email you just sent me?” You wanted to answer - wanted to let him know that he had the right number and that yes, you were the one that had emailed … but nothing came out when you opened your mouth. His voice. It’s so… it’s so deep and he … he sounds like… “Hey, you there? Hello?” 

You’d only seen images of him, but the man’s face paired with the sound of his voice through the speaker of your phone was enough to bring him almost fully to life in your mind. Get it the fuck together. “Yeah, I am, I just …” Closing your eyes and shaking your head, you gripped the device more tightly. “I wasn’t expecting you to call so fast, it’s only been like half an hour.” 

He chuckled then, the sound short and quiet, but it made your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise at the same time. I like the sound of that. “Yeah, I’m just getting ready to head out for the day. Finished my last flight and got my girl - the helicopter - ready for tomorrow, so I thought I’d check my email before I left.” Frankie paused, and then spoke again. “And your email was waiting.” 

“Thank you for calling back.” Sliding the laptop off of your lap, you leaned back, resting your head against the headboard. “I figured it would be easier to explain what I’m looking for instead of typing, and -”

“A customized tour, right?” You agreed, nodding even though he couldn’t see it. “What area? And when? If you’re looking for a place to rent here, it sounds like you’re going to be sticking around.” 

“Probably more than one, to be honest.” You frowned then, thinking. “I’m not even really sure what I want to see, I just know a few different places will be better than…” Trailing off, you closed your eyes. I hate being unprepared. “Is there a time I could come by your office or something? I could explain what I’m looking for and you might be able to suggest things since you live here.” 

Frankie didn’t respond right away, and when he did, you heard apprehension in his voice, though it was quickly replaced with confidence the longer he spoke. “I do have an office, but I’m pretty booked out for the next few weeks, and I don’t have much downtime between flights because it’s a lot of prep work. It’s just me right now, aside from my mechanic.” Oh. OK. That makes sense. “But - and you can say no - I’m free tonight if you wanted to meet up and maybe grab a beer or a coffee if you don’t drink? That way I’ll know what you’re looking for and whether or not I can help.” 

It made sense - and you’d just offered to do basically the same thing by going to his office. But … “I don’t want to take up your night, Frankie. Thank you though. I’ll just email you details about what I’m looking for and you can call if you have questions.” 

“If that’s what you’d rather do, that’s fine.” He paused, but when he spoke again, he sounded determined. “But you wouldn’t be taking up my time. I’m meeting my buddies for a couple drinks, but they’re not off until later… so really, you’d be keeping me busy until it’s time for my my plans.” Buddies? Drinks … could it be… 

“Are you talking about the bar your friends own?” Thinking hard, you tried to remember the names Tom had given you. “Benny and … Will?” He let out a breath, the sound registering as startled to you, but he replied right away.

“Yeah. I’m headed to the bar they own after I go home and change and all that. Standing Sunday night thing with everyone.” Glancing at your suitcase and then at the mirror across the room, you contemplated his invitation. “If you met with Redfly today, you must be sorta close.” He said your name, the sound filled with warmth as it reached your ear. “I’ll text you the address. If you decide to come, great. If not, just email me and we’ll figure something out. I can have you drop by during one of my breaks or something.” 

He’s not being pushy, he’s just being direct. OK. You agreed, and a few seconds later, you got his message - pulling your phone away from your ear to look at the screen. “Got it. I don’t know how far away it is, though.” 

“Like I said, no big deal if you decide not to come, just thought I’d suggest it. He cleared his throat again. “Either way, I’ll get you up in the air somehow. I’m gonna let you go so I can get out of here. Maybe I’ll see you later?” 

“Maybe.” He laughed again, and then said goodbye, the phone going dead in your ear moments later. It won’t hurt to see how far away this place is. Opening the address in Maps, you were shocked to find out that you were only 15 minutes from the bar. And he has to go home so that means I’d have time to jump in the shower. 

You only gave yourself a minute or two to think about it - and then you were on your feet, digging through your suitcase for a new outfit. Fuck it. I’m gonna do what I came here to do… and if that means meeting Frankie like this, than … that’s how it’s going to be. 

—

tag list coming soon!

[mahs-dumpster]

"Happy 100th anniversary"

a/n: this is soooo self indulgent please. It's a vignette (written only in dialogue) for Daisy's (my Yuu) birthday jacket card that I just made! I'll be linking it here once I edit this post!

cw: oc x canon (Ruggie x Daisy; they're established to be in a relationship and Daisy has already made her decision to stay in twisted wonderland); dialogue heavy; poor attemps at making this look like a fake translation from a vignette bc I'm delulu

The template for the frames of the paintings can be found here.

Words: around 1k

Happy birthday, Daisy!!

Daisy: To think I'm able to visit a museum like this! I wonder what sort of paintings I'm going to see…

Daisy: I'm expecting to maybe recognize a few from the stories mom used to read to me… let's see if I actually can recognize them!

Daisy: I wonder… is she someone I'm aware of? A lady who constantly cleans her house…

???: That's the princess who inspired the glass slippers you always wear.

Daisy: Huh? Oh, Ruggie! I thought you were all the way on the other side of the museum! 

Ruggie: I was, but then I met Trey and we kinda ended up wandering around until I got here. 

Ruggie: What a coincidence that I found you looking at the painting of the lady who inspired your favorite shoes, shishishi~

Daisy: I guess it is a fun coincidence. Oh, right! Would you mind explaining more about her to me?

Ruggie: Fine! But don't go walking around telling people I've gone soft…

Daisy: No need to worry, I wouldn't even dream of it. 

Ruggie: *sigh* anyway… This lady is the princess that inspired your shoes, do you know the story behind it?

Daisy: Sam only explained to me that the princess who wore them danced with them until midnight… so I guess I don't know much more than that.

Ruggie: Right. Legend says she was an orphan who was forced by her stepmother to become basically a servant.

Ruggie: She cleaned the house all day everyday, was forced to hear awful things by her step family and when she wanted to go to a ball her stepsisters tore down her dress. 

Ruggie: A Fairy Godmother – well, her Fairy Godmother – decided to help her get to a ball, she gave her a gown, a carriage and everything! 

Ruggie: the Prince fell in love with her almost immediately and when she ran away and left her glass slipper fall, he tried it on every lady in the kingdom to find out who his beloved was. Then they got married and she never saw her family again.

Daisy: That’s basically the story of Cendrillon. 

Ruggie: What? Oh– one of the fairytales from your world?

Daisy: Yes. I’ve always admired her story, I reread it a lot growing up because I related to her. 

Ruggie: Ah… you did say your stepmother treated you horribly.

Daisy: She… treated me as best as she could.

Ruggie: Which wasn't anywhere near good enough. 

Daisy: Haha… I guess you're right. 

Daisy: What I mean is just… she treated me badly, but I don't hold grudges. 

Daisy: Whatever she's doing, I forgive her. And now that I'm somewhere better and living a happier life… I hope that her and her children manage to grow as people.

Daisy: That's what my mother taught me. 

Ruggie: …sometimes I really do wonder how I fell for such a goody-goody.

Daisy: W-what’s that supposed to mean?

Ruggie: I’m just saying, you're way too naive and nice to forgive someone like that.

Ruggie: if it were me, I’d never forgive them. No way someone's gonna step all over me and I'll forgive them.

Daisy: because that's exactly what you did to Leona-senpai, huh?

Ruggie: besides the point. 

Daisy: Ruggie, isn't this painting depicting that story you told me about? The ones about the dogs sharing spaghetti?

Ruggie: Oh, that one, yeah! I didn't know they actually painted the scene, who would've thought.

Daisy: They're so adorable, I see now how romantic this is.

Ruggie: I guess? It's still just spaghetti…not only that but it's outside in the middle of the night. I guess for dogs it would be cool but for people? I’d honestly just be excited because it's free food.

Daisy: Oh, come on now! This is super romantic! It's a candlelight dinner under the night sky! 

Daisy: If someone did that for me, I know I’d be pretty happy and satisfied.

Ruggie: You’re just trying to convince me to ask you on a date, aren't you?

Daisy: …

Ruggie: Should’ve figured, shishishi!

Daisy: You can't blame a girl for trying, I’ve been pretty lonely these past few weeks since you’ve been working more than usual.

Daisy: But jokes aside, this right here is already enough. I’m already way less lonely just by walking around this museum with you, it's practically a date!

Ruggie: I don't think a date would consist of everyone from our school coming with us…

Daisy: You get what I mean…

Ruggie: Tell you what, once we get back I’m cooking us both some spaghetti and lighting some candles if that's what you’d like.

Ruggie: If my flower is feeling lonely then I better give her a proper date so she can feel loved, right?

Daisy: You really don't have to… but thanks. I would love to. 

Ruggie: Ah, this one's actually a very famous painting, I’ve seen pictures of it around quite often.

Daisy: R-Really…?

Ruggie: What? You don't believe me?

Ruggie: It ties with Sunset Savannah’s history and with The King of Beasts’s story! 

Daisy: Well, forgive me for not understanding the historical significance of a monkey holding a lion cub…

Ruggie: *sigh* Alright. Lemme explain.

Ruggie: This is a ceremony often done by members of royalty when a new child from the royal family is born. 

Ruggie: It goes so far back even the lions from The King of Beasts’s story did that. They basically present the baby to everyone else in the kingdom… it's kinda hard to explain.

Daisy: Oh, I get it now!

Daisy: I see why it's so famous, seeing how it portrays an aspect of the royalty of Sunset Savannah. 

Ruggie: Eh… I never went to one, as you can imagine.

Daisy: Never? Is it not open to the common folk?

Ruggie: Well yeah, but back when there was one for who I now know is Leona-san's nephew, I was trying to survive.

Ruggie: I didn't have the time to go to a ceremony just to watch a new baby I didn't care about being presented to the whole kingdom.

Ruggie: I’d learn about him regardless, so I just didn't care much.

Daisy: I guess that makes sense.

Daisy: Still, it must be super interesting to see it happening. How cute would it be to see a baby cub being shown to the entire world just like that, hahah! 

Ruggie: Ah– sorry, before I got here I told Leona-san I’d go fetch something for him at the cafeteria in a few minutes… if I don't go now he’s gonna be pissed.

Daisy: Why didn't you tell me sooner?!

Ruggie: Well, ya know– it's impossible to resist spending time with you~

Daisy: Alright there, Romeo, enough! Go before he gets upset. I'll be looking around this area for a while more if you want to come back.

Ruggie: *sigh* ‘kay, I'll be off then! 

Daisy: Hm? Ah, this is another painting of Cendrillon.

Daisy: She looks so much free... I'm happy she got her happy ending.

[popjunkie42]

Painted Blind Chapter Three

Read on AO3

Summary: What Feyre Archeron wants is simple: enough food, gold and safety to take care of her family. But when a terrifying fae beast crosses the wall and enters the human lands, she finds that simple, safe life slipping out of reach.

Part one of an ACOTAR re-telling inspired by the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros.

Chapter Three: Feyre learns the unintended consequences of becoming Feyre fae-killer. The Archeron family receives an invitation.

Thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta read, hand holding and advice!

I also have a beautiful commission art piece by June Page I’ve posted.

I’m really excited for the next few chapters as we get to delve into some more sister stuff along with exploring the human territory a bit more…

Chapter under the cut or Read on AO3.

The next morning, there were offerings at the door from the village.

It wasn’t until I had stepped outside in the morning to grab firewood that I saw our front stoop had been visited. There were…offerings. Lovely stacks of small gifts: an iron ring on a plain wooden dish, a pile of dried figs wrapped in a canvas bag, winter apples, a small carving of a wolf’s head, and a sprig of dried flowers.

No one from the village had ever given me anything before.

Coming here, my father, sisters and I had learned quickly that poverty hit this place too hard for begging to be of any use. The most well-off in our village still had lean times without bread and the refined folk down the road that deigned to come to market day would do nothing but sneer and kick at us. There was a line even for the burned and stale bread at the bakery. And tempting as it was, I refused to accept the occasional offers of ale at the tavern from the men whose eyes sparked after too many glasses themselves.

Richard Dannon had been good to his word, and had come to our ramshackle cabin just a few hours later with a purse of gold and breathless thanks. He eyed me the whole time as if I were some sort of dangerous beast that might turn and snap at him at any moment, just like the head I had brought him that morning. I didn’t ask what he planned to do with it.

The man in his fine suit and wan face had offered to keep some of the funds in the bank in Innisville - our old village, when we had been in society and not known the pains of hunger.

I said I’d consider it.

But I hadn’t thought about much at all, really, after scrubbing my skin raw and sleeping most of the day.

If my mind wandered anywhere it was to what Isaac and the gaggle of boys around our age would think; at how the other hunters in the village might greet me at the next market day. How I could walk past those who sometimes laughed at me or threatened me with a reason to hold my head high.

On the second day, the gifts were even more lavish.

Nesta and Elain’s eyes had gone wide as we all shuffled out in our blankets that morning. There was a bouquet of vibrant hothouse flowers that made Elain gasp. Dried meats and a small bag of flour and candies - a bag of peppermints.

For once, we hadn’t fought. Nesta’s eyes had glittered as she offered the bag to Elain, who deeply inhaled the sugary scent and selected one with delicate fingers, as if it were a sparkling diamond. Then she passed the bag to me, smiling wide, reveling in being able to share now instead of fighting over meager morsels.

I couldn’t remember, exactly, the last time I had tasted candy like this. But some recollection was buried deep within me, as the first taste of sugar flooded my memories, filling my mouth as I sucked.

A moment later we were all smiling at each other, laughing at the heady rush, at the crunch under our teeth and the tiny sweet memories of another life.

On the third day, the gifts were even more. Coins of all kinds. Bread rolls and pastries, and a small wheel of cheese. More flowers and dried up bits of the forest. And on the windowsill, a silver chain with a small stamped charm.

On the third day, as well, there were people waiting. Just a few - staring nervously as I cracked the door open and emerged, my sisters behind me.

A woman in fine black clothes approached me.

“I would ask your name, but everyone on the western shore knows it now.” Her voice was a hoarse croak, as if she had been screaming. Weary, bloodshot eyes seemed to confirm my suspicion.

“Um, I - sorry, I don’t know your name.” I remembered that once I had had lessons, etiquette, learning to curtsy and address all manner of people. My mother would be rolling over in her grave, now.

Gloved hands grasped my own tightly, and she shoved a folded letter into my hands, her eyes turning to shimmering pools. It had looked like she wanted to say more, but she had left a moment later - a weary trudge back towards the main road.

I made Elain read me the letter later that evening, when Nesta had gone to bed and father was snoring quietly by the fire.

Her son had fallen to the beast’s hunger. I didn’t let myself think as to whether I had seen his bones littered in front of the cave. She had written of her sorrow, and the hope that with his death avenged, her son would finally be at peace.

I didn’t know if I believed in that, if there was peace or anything at all to be had after we finally closed our eyes for good, if any old gods existed to guide us there. But I hoped for her sake it was true, or at least that the belief would let her sleep more soundly at night. Maybe we all would, knowing one such monster was gone from our lands.

I had hoped for the stability that came with gold, to avoid hunger and the cold, to maybe earn a little respect from the village.

I hadn’t expected anything like this.

An anxious part of me remembered the beast’s words, still so strong it was as if they rumbled through my chest. I am only what comes before.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was also on the third day that my father started acting strange, an unsettled gleam in his eyes as he stared into the fire.

His eyes had taken on a sharpness that had been absent for so long. And his attentions drifted back to me, to all of us. I would glance up from sharpening my knife at the table to find him looking at me, a crease in his brow, a small frown on his face.

As wary as I was, it almost felt good to see him like this - sharp, animated, and directing his attention towards me more than he ever had before. It reminded me of our life so long ago, when he had presided over a mighty wood-carved desk oiled to a shine and sat shoulder-deep amidst the richest treasures of the world.

When he had been…powerful.

That afternoon, we made our way to the marketplace for the first time since my hunt. We had walked together, even my father joining us with his cane, standing closer together than I could remember us ever doing. Nesta scowled, and Elain gripped my arm tight enough to pinch as we wandered through the square, meeting face after face filled with awe and wonder.

Some of them murmured my name, a strange, unsettling echo throughout the road. Feyre. Feyre Archeron. Fae-killer. A few even put their hands upon their hearts, and bowed in respect.

Bathed in blood, I heard someone whisper.

I didn’t know how to feel. My face was burning under all the attention, all the scrutiny. The village elders met us in the town square to shake my hand, the same ones that had turned us away again and again when we were at our most desperate.

Nesta had seethed beside me, only the smile of our father staying our words.

I didn’t have time for this. For any of it, least of all the nervous, unsettled feeling curdling in my gut.

I had things to do: I had to make change the best I could, for few in the village could exchange an entire gold piece. We had agreed upon some small initial purchases. Mostly I hoped that getting my sisters a few coveted items would douse those ravenous looks they gave every time the bag of coins sat upon the table. I needed to find a safer place to keep it than under the floorboards.

And I needed, desperately, to see the healer again. When I had first seen him a few days ago, he had done little more than give me a salve and poked around the bones in my hand as I tried not to scream. At least he had given me a tonic for the pain.

But I hadn’t been able to sleep last night, a burning numbness sometimes creeping past the pain of the shattered bone and torn ligaments. It was somehow worse. I had formed a new habit of pricking my fingertips with my nails, trying to coax some feeling back into them.

Fifty gold coins was fine. But it wouldn’t last my whole life. And I needed my hand to hunt.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The day after, father had mysteriously been gone in the morning by the time we all woke. He had returned hours later, his cheeks flush and three new dresses clutched in his arms.

He had hung them on the wall in display as I bit my tongue. They were simple, but made of fine fabric that draped well. Robin’s egg blue for me, slate grey for Nesta, and pale pink for Elain. We were to go to the market again, but as properly dressed ladies.

They had to cost at least a gold piece, perhaps even two.

I wondered how many gold pieces my hand was worth.

Still, something inside quieted me just for now. This was the first interest our father had taken in us in years. I felt it in the tension as Elain fingered the fabric reverently, as Nesta eyed hers with grudging approval.

So the next market day, I let him dress us as ladies. I didn’t say anything as we covered the new fine garments with our threadbare coats, paired them with our scuffed and worn shoes. He himself had brushed off one of his old suits as much as he could, shining a pair of impractical shoes from another time.

I had held out hope that things would return to normal over time, and we could slip through the market like any other unremarkable family with a few coin to spend. But no such luck.

The town square was full this morning, with more strangers in fine clothes than I had ever seen here.

All eyes looked to us as we shuffled through the stalls. Nesta kept her chin high and her jaw set, as I ducked into stores and stalls to escape.

Father was in fine form, smiling and shaking hands as we shopped. He made sure to seek out those in finer suits first.

“Feyre, come here!”

My father beckoned me with a warm, hopeful smile.

I sighed. I was negotiating hard for some dried beans, some rice. It had been a new irony to discover these market days: even with so many coins in my pocket, the merchants insisted on filling my arms with food and supplies, refusing to take even half of their worth. I had to fight: not to haggle, but to pay. I knew everyone here was as hungry as we had been, couldn’t afford such charity even as they insisted.

It was all right though, because it helped me ignore the shooting pains in my hand.

Father was entertaining in the square as we shopped: a rotund man about his age, in a fine dark wool suit and a tall hat, shining in the morning light.

“Feyre, this is Mr. Robinson, the Mayor of Innisville. You remember him?” he asked me.

I didn’t.

“His wife, Lady Sasha used to show horses with your mother. And he’s come to see you, dear daughter.” He spoke with a theatric flair, with a barely contained smile on his face. Unsettling and strange. “He has an invitation for us all.”

The man beamed at me, his chubby cheeks glowing red, looking warm and jovial even on this dour winter day.

“Just look at you. Who would have imagined you bringing down that monster!” I prickled at his tone. “I got a look at its head. You must have been very frightened, dear child.”

Something burned in my stomach. I remembered, strangely, the taunting, bored voice of the beast.

“I’ve hunted for my family for many years,” I told him. “Hunger drives us to do many things in spite of fear.”

My father made a sharp inhale. But the mayor simply smiled, moving closer at my tone, and grasped my good arm at the elbow. “Of course, dear. I just meant you must be very brave. Especially for one so young. And lovely.”

My father held me by my other arm. I had the distinct feeling of a pack gathering, penning me in.

“The Mayor came with an invitation, Feyre,” he said gently, like I was a wild animal needing coaxing. I could see the regret in his eyes, probably thinking about how he had taken so little care to teach his youngest proper manners. Or anything at all. “He’s extended an invitation to the whole family, to join them as honored guests next week for the town’s solstice celebration.”

“Everything is so bleak these days - with the wheat blight and the threat of the wall always looming over us. People need something inspiring, to show them the way. Or maybe someone.” He seemed to be a kind man, and his eyes sparkled as he smiled at me.

My heart skipped a beat at that. My birthday. I suspected my father had forgotten the significance.

I knew my sisters would want to go desperately, would beg and plead. And that spark in father, even if I resented where it came from…it was like he was back again, like when I was a child in his office, his youngest girl to entertain with treasures from across the world.

Except now, I was feeling more and more like the prize on display.

My hand began to hammer in time with my thundering heart.

“I suppose I can take a one day break from hunting.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

That night, the three of us lay in bed, not sleeping.

Nesta was the one who spoke first, her voice barely a whisper.

“Father means to use this to marry us all off,” she said, a simple statement of fact.

“Do you think we’ll get many more invitations, maybe to a ball?” Elain asked.

I snorted.

“This all depends on you, you know,” Nesta said, fixing her eyes on me in the dark. They glowed unnervingly in the silver moonlight. “You can’t behave like a feral beast anymore. If you can summon manners and keep your temper in check for once, you might actually be rid of us soon. Isn’t that what you want?”

I frowned. “Is that what you want, then Nesta? Who knew butchering a monster in the woods would lead to husbands all around. I didn’t think you would be so eager to partner with father in his schemes.”

“Last month I was considering marrying Tomas Mandray,” she said, almost bored, ignoring my words because she knew how much it angered me. Her eyes were locked on the ceiling as she lay next to me. “Now, if we can get a few more decent dresses and invitations to the town, we might be able to marry someone with money. An actual home to keep, with servants and filled pantries.” Nesta’s voice wasn’t hopeful. It was cold and practical, evaluating the lifeline set before us.

“I talked to the other girls at the dress shop,” Elain ventured, trying to smooth over whatever it was between us, her eyes wandering to me in the dark. “They said people think you’re…blessed, Feyre.” She sounded a bit nervous. “That you defeated a fae unscathed, and bathed in its blood to take its power.”

I laughed bitterly. “Unscathed? I can hardly move my fingers. And the cut on my cheek won’t heal at all. It still bleeds half the day.”

Indeed, the slice from the creature’s claws had remained a sharp red mark on my cheek, sometimes burning in the cold, despite the cleanings and bandages Elain had attempted on it.

I hadn’t told them yet what the healer had said to me about my hand.

He had cleaned my cuts and scrapes, clucking his tongue at the deep purple bruises that were turning a sickly green, and finally gave it a closer examination. He bent my fingers and rubbed my bones with his thumb, drawing muffled cries and fiery bolts of pain that shot all the way up my arm into my shoulder.

He had made a decisive noise and set it down again, finally. “There’s no way to set all these tiny bones without cutting into your skin. And I won’t know what I’ll find in there. It's too risky to cut through the muscle and make permanent damage. I’ll wrap it the best I can and I recommend keeping it still for a few weeks to see how it heals.”

“A few weeks?” I had asked, horrified.

“Five weeks is best. Afterwards we can see how it sets, and start practicing movement again.”

I had sat in stunned silence.

Five weeks. I had never been idle even half that long since we came here. We had money now, yes, but how long would it last if I couldn’t hunt? I knew I was the only one who could keep us afloat, and I couldn’t afford to lose that time.

Even setting the snares one-handed this morning had been a challenge. And this far into winter, the rabbits weren’t as plentiful on the forest outskirts. I had to go deeper, and I had to be prepared.

“After five weeks, I’ll be able to hunt again? To use it?”

His lips pursed. “We won’t know until then. It’s likely you’ll always miss some movement. It’s all up to your body now, and if it can put you back together. The more you move it, the more it will keep re-breaking and interrupt the healing process.”

Laying in bed, my hand wrapped tightly, it pulsed with the memory.

Maybe I would have to marry. If I could never use my hand again, never hunt, never fire a bow…snares and traps and a pocket of quickly dwindling gold could only get us so far.

My stomach turned at the thought. I had wanted marriage for my sisters, mostly to get them out of my care. Of course I always hoped they could move forward, leave this sad place, start their own lives away from our poverty and bitterness. I hoped they found someone hardworking – someone gentle for Elain, someone strong for Nesta – to eke out a life away from the sad pallor of our cabin.

I had never thought of it for myself.

All I saw in my mind was freedom. Father dozing on a warm bed, while I rested, and painted, well-fed and warm.

What man could possibly match that freedom?

Read on AO3