#the goddamned beacon of truth

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have any fics where either Derek or Stiles live in a cabin in the woods? Bonus points if they build it themselves.

Thanks!!

Definitely.

Magically Yours: The Sun, The Moon, The Truth by Akinasky

(1/1 I 925 I Teen)

Stiles and Derek go away to a cabin to celebrate their one year anniversary and Stiles uses his abilities to mark himself as Derek's partner, forever.

Snowed In by rororowyourboat 

(1/1 I 4,258 I Teen)

Stiles and Derek get caught in a blizzard while hunting a monster in the Preserve. Their options are trekking a few miles back through the snowy woods in inclement weather while exhausted and injured... or spend the night in a random cabin.

They choose the cabin.

Baby, you should stick around by ElisAttack

(3/3 I 9,543 I Teen)

Derek's driving along a stretch of highway when an unusual sight makes him slow down, the engine of his old pickup rattling in protest.

There's a kid standing by the side of the road.

It's the middle of nowhere, the goddamn apocalypse, and this kid is standing by the side of the road with his thumb pointed skyward. Like he's playing at being a hitchhiker.

Or the one where Stiles thinks he's all alone in a post-apocalyptic world, until he meets Derek.

(Welcome To) Far Far Away, or The Tale of Wolfskin and the Fox Prince by scarlettletterr

(4/4 I 14,716 I General)

There's a wolf sleeping in the cabin on the outskirt of Beacon Hills, and a fox in the Prince's chambers. This is a tale of magic, of lemon cakes, and oblivious idiots falling in love in the country of Far Far Away.

Abominable by Revenant

(2/2 I 20,272 I Teen)

Where Derek buys a secluded cabin halfway up a mountain, meets a yeti and falls in love with Stiles, but not necessarily in that order.

A sacrilege to keep it a secret by babisays

(1/1 I 21,275 I General)

Stiles has a secret he's been keeping from everyone his entire life. But Derek is starting to notice the fact that he'll never go near a body of water when other people are around and he keeps saying that he's really bad at swimming. Derek knows that's a lie because he was able to hold him up in a pool for three hours straight. Stiles knows his secret is a ticking time bomb and at some point, everyone will know it. But he quite likes being the human of the pack. Even though Derek and he know that he isn't. Derek just wants to figure out exactly what he is.

Retreat by words_in_starless_skies (orphan_account)

(12/12 I 43,889 I Teen)

Stiles is not okay. He struggles with the aftermath of being possessed by the Nogitsune. Alone. A worried Derek invites him to his cabin in the mountains, which he shares with Cora and Peter. Stiles is totally on board with getting as far away from Beacon Hills as possible, especially when it means he gets his own comfort wolf.

Move Inside Of Your Light by sterekhale

(17/17 I 73,510 I Mature)

After fleeing from hunters Derek found refuge in a small Wyoming town. For almost ten years, he lived alone in a cabin among acres of land, until one night he stumbles upon a car accident near his place. When the driver comes to with his friendly smile and beautiful brown eyes, there’s no way Derek could’ve predicted the next three weeks.

Stiles is a hunter who can’t go home and the alpha of the fallen Hale pack is his Hail Mary. What he didn’t expect to find was a gentle and broken man in place of the so-called mighty alpha. Despite the pressures from back home, Stiles keeps putting off what he has to do, while falling for the one person he’s not supposed to.

Mating Moons by skinsharpenedteeth (Skinsharpenedteeth)

(15/15 I 85,268 I Explicit)

Stiles just wanted to get Derek's attention. Derek had seemed so distracted as the full moon approached and Stiles was feeling pretty neglected as a friend. Next thing he knows, he's magically bound to a cabin in the mountains with Derek all winter long and they have to figure out whether they want to be life mates?

[dapperdelphina]

WAYNE | Chapter 3: The Goddamned Beacon of Truth

[bestworstcase]

You've said before that RWBY's writing can be non-formulaic other than the 3 Act structure that it follows. What is it then that makes RWBY's story and writing so different (especially from more typical pop culture writing) in that regard?

to be completely honest i think a significant factor is that rwby is written by people who care about telling a story and have a very clear vision of what story they want to tell that they are resolutely sticking to no matter what. rwby is pretty remarkable in its sheer indifference to 1. what the fandom wants and 2. mass market appeal. paraphrasing but isn't one of the writers on record saying that they keep an eye on the fandom and if they see a lot of people not getting something they try to make it more obvious in the text? <- i think about this all the time.

bc like. before V9 i tried really hard to manage my expectations because i didn't feel sure, at all, that i wasn't just reading around a bad case of protagonist-centered morality—like i could count on one hand the number of people besides me whose writing on salem aligned with my interpretation and what i thought was going to happen thematically in V9 was so DRASTICALLY different than what the fandom largely seemed to expect and when you're that far off the common thinking then it's kind of like, is it really everyone else who's wrong or is it just you?

and then it turned out i was right. i was in fact so right that i underestimated how hard V9 would go on delivering what was set up in the first eight volumes.

which is fucking mind-boggling to imagine from the writers' perspective. the fucking guts it take to have a finger on the pulse of this fandom and not budge an inch on what this story is about!

<- being formulaic is safe. it is easy. it's palatable. for all that everyone loves to complain about unoriginality, there are a lot of people who just want to be entertained by something familiar. rwby doesn't give a damn whether you like it or not, it's going to keep being the story that it is, you know?

so they're very willing to take creative risks. that's really the heart of it. but there are a few specific like, technical aspects of the narrative that make rwby what it is:

#1, the narrative status quo gets turned on its head not just once, but repeatedly. the fall of beacon, the lost fable, the fall of atlas, the ever after. and by my count there are at least two more key changes before the story ends. it's not all that common for stories to upend the narrative status quo once, let alone multiple times, but rwby is a story about change and the structure of the narrative reflects that. (this also synergizes quite well with the three-act structure.)

#2, the characters are wrong about all kinds of things in all kinds of ways, constantly. some of them lie. some of them make very confident, very wrong assumptions. all of them are working with incomplete information. the ancient immortal character who's spent millions of years alone is cryptic and awkward. half the cast belongs to the keeping secrets cult. the goddamned avatar of knowledge is an unreliable narrator because ruby asked specifically for ozpin's side of the story. the narrative blithely informs the audience in V5 that "truth is hard to come by" is an important enough theme to say it out loud and then throws the lost fable down like a gauntlet. good luck.

#3, related to the above, in most stories the heroic characters know (or learn) and believe the story's themes and the villainous characters reject the theme and embody the anti-themes. in rwby, theme/anti-theme is decoupled from narrative role: ozpin is on the heroic side, but he represents many of the story's anti-themes (fear, distrust, lack of faith in humanity, blind obedience of authority); salem is the main villain and notional big bad, but she believes the theme—so much so that the fandom regularly quotes her soliloquy to express the core theme: "even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change," and "there will be no victory in strength." this opens the door to a lot of really interesting character complexity and is critical for making "salem wins by negotiation" narratively possible at all.

#4, the story takes fairytales seriously. what sets rwby apart from a lot of "deconstructed fairytale" stories is that the point of taking the fairytale logic apart is not to be clever or edgy or grimdark or hyperrealist or cynical about it; the conceit is a tragic, broken fairytale that keeps going forever until it's mended because fairytales are not real but they are true. rwby rejects the moral and emotional simplicity of fairytales in order to weave a fairytale about lifelike characters rather than archetypes. that's a lot rarer than darker and edgier retellings or irreverent parodies by a wide margin.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 50

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

you've got to take a chance on something, sometime by spirkylurkey

Lance McClain is the office secretary. Salesman Keith is smitten, but Lance is dating Lotor from Corporate. (An Office AU in which I just TORTURE PINING KEITH)

I LOVE THIS FIC. im not generally huge on office aus, but i LOVE this one. messy gay love triangles, GNC lance, and pining keith being the one who shows UP. god i love them. and keith. just so goddamn badly. he is loyalty personified.

2. Something Borrowed, Something Blue, by @shyfoxes

Keith asks Shiro to help him make Lance a betrothal necklace. The results are less than stellar, but that’s okay. ATLA AU.

atla au!!! proposal fic!!! 2016 fic!!! dorky broganes!!!! this fic is so fucking cute. also this line: "He stepped aside to let Keith in then swiftly kicked him in the behind as revenge." is siblings at the core of them truly

3. Kitten Sneezes by @tomminowrites

Imagine: Keith’s kitten sneezes - The Red paladin wiggles his face desperately, trying to cram the sneeze back down to the depths. Instead, the feeling just crescendos, until… “ha-tchu!” There’s a beat of silence. Then Hunk and Lance are cooing into the mics with an infuriating awwwwwww.

keith having kitten sneezes is so goddamn funny to me. like here is this gruff guy who is awkward but does his best and is also obsessed with knives. and when he sneezes it sounds like a cat. ALSO. lance calls keith kitten in this

4. to tell the truth by @tomminowrites

Other than a few scuffs on his armor, Lance looks unharmed - but he just stares stupidly at the Red paladin’s outstretched hand instead of trying to rise. Keith leans closer. “The fight’s still on, you coming?” Lance looks up suddenly. “Dude you… you have really beautiful eyes, did you know that? I feel like nobody has told you that.” Uhhhhhhh. -- Lance is hit with a truth serum, and his unintended honesty hour will continue until Voltron finds the cure planet-side. Keith, meanwhile, can't shake off the part where Lance is... flirting? With him??

this is the only truth serum fic ive ever really liked bc it's super respectul u know?? doesn't rly feel like it's crossing boundaries. just sweet and funny. lance flirting with keith like its fact is so real

5. Starsong by @tomminowrites

The paladins are crewmates aboard a mercenary space vessel, sent to the outer reaches of the system to investigate the recent disappearance of Empire ships. Keith discovers that the ship's captain, Sendak, has actually been hired to capture a different prize: mermaids. With siren calls that interfere with ship scanners and songs that mimic the distress beacons of friendly crafts, astral mermaids are a threat commonly believed to be myth among most spacefarers. But when lives are at stake, the crew is soon to discover that one among them is not quite as human as he appears to be...

i feel like there's NO way i havent recced this before but onward regardless!!! this fic has the COOLEST premise ever like holy shit. mermaids?? who SWIM in SPACE?? among the STARS??? LIKE???and in an au with an atlantis like crew??? SIGN ME UP

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[tightjeansjavi]

Lazuli | Joel Miller and Ellie Williams

A/N: here’s the sweet dad/daughter vibes we have all been patiently waiting for. Bird watcher! Joel is such a sweetie pie.

~word count: 1.8k~

Summary: Joel finally gets to live the simple life with his daughter Ellie by his side.

Warnings: light angst, fluff, lots of dad daughter vibes, Joel is a real softy in this, he’ll do anything to make his kid happy, unconditional love, lots of soft dad vibes, Joel is just a content old man with his bird watching book that Ellie gifted him, Joel finally gets his sheep!!

Joel Miller knows deep within his withered bones that it wasn’t time that did it. He knows that it wasn’t time that did it because time is constrained; as much as it is flighty. Time passes by in a blur. Days, months, weeks, years. No, it wasn’t time that did it. It was a 14 year old girl named Ellie Williams. Joel’s light through the never ending darkness that had once swallowed his soul whole. Ellie was a beacon of hope that shone brightly through the treacherous stormy seas that once resided in Joel’s heart. When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light. Joel remembers this symbol all too well. Ellie Williams; Joel Miller’s savior.

Joel was stubborn, rough around the edges and hiding years worth of turmoil and demons that haunted his living nightmares. Ellie came swinging at his harsh exterior, and nearly impassable defensives with a fucking sledge hammer. She chipped away at his looming concrete walls with her day in and day out of shitty puns, contagious joyous laughter, and her smile. Her smile that made this grumpy man feel like that for the first time in 20 years, he could find the meaning of home inside a person once more. Yes, it was true. Joel Miller loved Ellie as if she truly was his own. Ellie was his daughter just as much as Sarah was and after everything they endured and survived together, he could not picture his life without her in it.

Everything Joel did was for her. For his baby girl. Ellie didn’t understand it then, and maybe she would never understand why Joel did the things he did, but all he prayed for was her forgiveness. When the truth was uttered from his lips, and the dust settled into calm, Joel was terrified that Ellie would never want to speak to him again. He did it out of love. He did it because she was his world, and she shone brighter than the sun, than any star in the goddamn sky. Ellie was his home, and Joel was hers.

Ellie didn’t speak to him for months after the events at the hospital. She was hurting just as much as he was, and it tore her up inside to not be as close to him as she once was. Summer turned to fall, fall to winter and when spring rolled around she was finally ready to speak to him again.

Joel had just gotten back from another successful patrol run with Tommy and a few other men. He was untacking his horse back at the stables when Ellie had approached him. He didn’t hear her at first, bad ear and all that. He had just hauled the saddle over the saddle rack when Ellie had popped up. “Jesus—kiddo? What’re you doin’ sneakin’ up on your old man like that? Tryin’ to send my ass to an early grave or somethin?’” He chuckled warmly.

“Sorry about that, Joel. I almost forgot about my old man’s bad ear. Did you and uncle Tommy find anything interesting out there?” She was leaning against the saddle rack, arms crossed with her signature little Ellie grin.

“Almost forgot about it? Now that hurts, El. We saw a few deer and some coyotes. No Infected for miles, and not’a lick of raiders out there.” He started brushing down his horse then. The most mundane tasks were becoming a stable comfort for Joel. It was nice to spend some time with the horses. They were fantastic listeners after all.

“Oh? Well, that’s fantastic news! Listen, Dina and I went for a ride yesterday and we stumbled upon this really nice plot of land. Just about a mile's ride to the west, and it’s got tons of tree coverage. I think there’s enough acres for you to even have your sheep farm..” she trailed off as she played with the hem of her shirt.

Joel slowly looked over at her as he ceased the brush movements over his horse’s withers. “You remembered that I wanted to have a sheep farm? Kiddo..what’re you sayin’? That we should skip town and live out in the woods?”

“Dad, of course I remembered that you wanted to have a sheep farm. Remember how romantic I said it was? Just you and some sheep? We could build a nice big cabin and a barn for the sheep and some horses. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Dad

Joel felt his heart lurch from the confines of his chest when Ellie called him Dad. She had never called him dad. It had been so many years since.. “How about this, Tommy and I will go check out this plot of land that you and Dina discovered, and then we can discuss maybe movin’ there. Does that sound like a good plan?” He could feel his eyes sting lightly with freshly brewed tears as the 3 letter word rocked his soul more than Ellie could even imagine.

“Alrighta. That sounds like a good plan. Hey, I gotta run. Meeting Dina at the mess hall but I’ll see you at home, okay?” Ellie was already pushing herself off the side of the saddle rack, taking a few steps before she was wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug with her cheek pressed against his back just like old times.

Joel couldn’t hide the infectious smile from spreading across his face. His dimples poked through as the corners of his eyes crinkled. He was smiling so hard his cheeks began to ache. He turned around in her embrace so he could properly hug her. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head as he held her close. “Yeah, I’ll see you at home kiddo.”

Joel had an increasingly difficult time saying no to his kid after that. He’d do anything to make her happy, and if building a log cabin in the woods would make her happy, then so be it. It took him, Tommy, and any able bodied man in town the rest of the year to build the cabin, barn, and fenced in pasture.

Maria had woven together two wool quilts for Joel and Ellie, while Joel and Tommy crafted most of the furniture together. Stories of the past were shared over a couple beers under the hot summer rays. On Joel’s nightstand he had his favorite photo of Sarah. She had the biggest smile on her face as Joel was playfully covering her eyes. He kissed it before bed every night. Next to that photo was his favorite picture of him and Ellie. Tommy had taken it when Shimmer had her foal last spring. Joel was looking over at his daughter lovingly. The final photo was of Joel, Tommy, and Tess. He still missed her on some nights, and she never looked more beautiful.

Joel even got his dream to own some sheep. Three to be exact. They were named Sarah, Ellie, and Tess. (Yeah he was quite the softy)

When Ellie came to him one crisp fall morning asking if they could get a dog, Joel’s immediate response was no. A few horses and sheep was enough to keep them busy, but a dog? That was going to be a whole other task. He caved however when Ellie had asked him enough times. So, Ellie came home with what Joel first thought was a..rat. Upon closer inspection he realized it was in fact a scrawny puppy. “He was the runt of the litter and Maria told me to take him home. What do you think we should name him?”

“Callus.” Joel responded with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

For Joel’s sixty-fifth birthday, he was surrounded by his family, and close friends he made in Jackson. Maria had made him his favorite cake and Tommy insisted that his older brother wear a party hat that had seen better days. “How old are ya again big brother?” Tommy asked with a light smile as the cake was being cut. “Sixty-five years old, you little shit.” Joel responded with a light chuckle, and a playful glare in the younger Miller brother’s direction.

“Goddamn. Sixty-five? You’re fuckin’ ancient.” He chuckled.

Joel gave him a light punch in the shoulder. “Ancient and can still easily kick your ass.”

This caused Joel’s goddaughter, Amelia to giggle from where she was sitting on the floor next to Callus, sneakily feeding him a tiny piece of her cake. Joel was secretly over the moon when he found out that Tommy and Maria were having a little girl, and even more so when he was asked to be her godfather.

“Daddy? Uncle Joel is sooo silly! He’s the silliest!”

“He sure is, babygirl. Don’t give Callus too much of that, okay? He’ll get a tummy ache.”

Joel was so happy that his brother was getting to experience being a girl-dad. He was a fantastic father, just like Joel always knew he would be.

When it was time for presents, Joel had let out a groan because he insisted that no presents were necessary and he didn’t need anything except for his family to keep him happy. Materialistic possessions were nothing compared to those he held closest to him. “What did I say about presents, kiddo?” He wrapped his arm around Ellie’s shoulder as she sat down beside him on the couch.

“I know, I know dad. Just open it okay? You’re gonna love it.” Ellie placed the gift into her father’s lap with a small smile. “I promise it’s nothing crazy either. I just saw it in town the other day and knew I had to get it for you.”

“Course i’ll love it kiddo. Anythin’ you get for me I always love.” He carefully tore at the paper that had been hand pressed with twine used for a makeshift bow. Once the gift was unraveled, a smile graced his aging features. “Bird watchin’ for beginners? This is actually really neat. Always wanted to do some bird watchin’ out here. Thank you, babygirl. I love it.” He set the book to the side before pulling Ellie in for a warm hug.

“You’re welcome dad, I love you.” Ellie hugged him tightly.

“I love you more kiddo. More than anythin.’”

Rain, shine, or snow, Joel was out on the wrap-around porch every morning with his bird watching book in one hand, and a steaming mug of coffee in the other. Callus would be comfortably sleeping along his feet while Joel would excitedly whisper to his furry companion about all the birds he saw that day. His favorite was the Lazuli Bunting. He would share his bird discoveries with Ellie when she would come home from school, and work at the stables back in Jackson. On the weekends she’d sit alongside him with a book, glancing up every so often to see her dad in his happy place watching the birds.

This is how his life was till his very last day. Bird watching, Callus at his feet, and Ellie Williams; the once stubborn, witty, fun loving teenager that taught Joel Miller how to love again. To live again. It was all thanks to her, his bright shining light in the once vast darkness that encased his heart.

Tagging some friends that I think will enjoy: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @darkroastjoel @cavillscurls @thetriumphantpanda @morning-star-joy @dinsdjrn @cupofjoel @sinsofsummers @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42

[deadbeatbirdmom]

Yeah, on top of the rather limited context & options visible to Yang when she noticed that horrid little scene, Adam wasn't *just* threatening Blake. He'd already put a hole in her torso. Which might well have been fatal on its own, 'cause I refuse to believe the man was Just That Precise. Dude gambled with her goddamn life to bait that trap & put 'she might be dying *right now*' in the romantic rival's head. Hell, he almost did the same thing to make Blake intervene for that other downed student. And for years afterward fan wags were acting like either bee could've somehow Known Better. Sheesh.

It's definitely just as well Blake still had Aura, and got herself and Yang to safety and some medical treatment not long after that. Gut wounds are dangerous things, and I think where Blake was stabbed almost certainly counts as one. Granted I'm not an expert when it comes to anatomy, but I think it's safe to say Adam was threatening Blake's life. Especially considering he tried to behead her when she got between him and Yang.

I'm rather glad that I haven't come across anything saying Blake should've known better than to try to stop Adam from killing that student. I can believe that it has been said, though, because it's so similar to Yang being written off as reckless for trying to intervene after he stabbed Blake.

I just... what were they supposed to have done? Was Blake supposed to have run away and let Adam kill that poor student? Was Yang supposed to keep her cool when Adam might've gone for a more immediately lethal stab to Blake next? Should Yang have called for help? By the time it came, Blake might well have been dead, and Yang too. I think they both did the best they could.

It might've gone better if Blake had warned Yang about Adam's Semblance, and if Yang had been fresh to that fight. She wasn't. She'd already fought her way there through Grimm and the White Fang, and her mind had to be clouded by the double whammy of being framed and Blake at first not believing her. Oh wait, triple whammy, because Qrow also dropped a hard truth on her about Raven and how she only saves those she's linked to once. And guess what, Yang? You already had your save. That and Qrow didn't believe Yang either, so I think it's safe to say Yang was already having a bad day before she saw Blake stabbed and then lost her arm.

I'm not blaming Blake, though. Because she had no idea Yang would ever face Adam. She didn't see it coming when the White Fang attacked Beacon. The most she knew was that they were working with Torchwick, and he'd been arrested. She thought they were safe.

[thesugarclubs-blog]

I Dare You - AU Bucky Barnes x OC

warnings: alcohol use, truth or dare, tattoo artist bucky, smut - 18+

word count: 11.5k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1303819549-i-dare-you-greta

authors note: happy 2023! we are extremely excited to get into the grove for the year and share all our wonderful stories with you! starting off strong with a tattoo artist au bucky!

Masterlist

“Greta!” Yelena hollered at the top of her lungs from across the packed bar, her long blonde hair was a beacon for her location as she carried two overpoured whiskey sours above her head through the crowd. 

“How do you even afford this after paying tuition?” Greta laughed, brushing her short, messy brown hair behind her ear and taking the glass off Yelena’s hands. 

“Easy,” Yelena laughed, setting her cup on the table and pretending to hike up her skirt. She ran her hands up her thighs before giving Greta the middle finger. “It’s all in hips,” she laughed, nodding toward the bar. 

A cute blonde-haired frat boy stood on the other side in a brand new college hoodie under the dingy pub lights with his buddies waving his fingers like he was smooth. “Fuck freshmen are stupid,” Greta shook her head and sipped on her drink. 

“Where did Wanda and Kate run off to?” Yelena asked. 

Greta pointed a finger at Kate leaning against the pool table with a sly smirk across her pretty face as Wanda picked the pockets of the poor sorry son of bitch too busy to notice. She wiggled the brown leather wallet and her eyebrows at them as she sauntered back toward Greta and Yelena. 

Kate brushed off the idiot ogling her tits and pushed her way to them, downing the rest of Greta’s drink without remorse. She adjusted herself in her bra underneath her deep purple tank top and covered herself.

“Dare complete,” Wanda cooed, dropping the wallet on the table. “You make them too easy Greta, it’s like playing a game of chess with a baby.”

“Taking candy from…” Kate started to explain, looking at her confused for a second and then back to Greta, “nevermind, she’s right, that was lame.”

“Who’s up next?” Greta asked, scowling at Kate as she handed her back the empty glass. “Although I’d love it if it could involve replacing my fucking drink!”

Kate snickered and pecked a kiss on Greta’s cheek.

“You love me though,” she cooed.

“Yeah, lucky for you,” Greta grumbled in return but turned her scowl into a grin.

“It’s my turn to dare,” giggled Wanda, waving her hand in the air.

Wanda leaned forward and looked directly into Greta’s eyes. “And I have just the perfect idea. Our little resident of following the rules is going to get a tattoo… tonight” Wanda grinned 

“Ohh. Nice one Wanda” Yelena said taking a sip of her drink

Greta raised a brow at her friend and scoffed. 

"In your dreams, Maximoff. Reshuffle those ideas of yours." 

"Oh come ooon Greta, don't be a killjoy. That's my one and only offer. Tattoo or the rest of the rounds are on you tonight for passing and I'm not so sure you want us drinking on your dime." Wanda sang teasingly as she grasped her chin and scrunched her nose up. 

Greta took a deep breath and moved her gaze toward Kate and Yelena both with expectant grins on their faces. She rolled her eyes and returned her gaze back to Wanda,

"Fine." she huffed. "But it's not happening until Kate replaces my goddamn drink."

Kate and Yelena cheered as Wanda smirked, eyes glittering with mischief. “You have to get it where I want it also.”

“Ooo,” chorused Kate and Yelena as Greta thought. 

“Clock’s ticking,” Wanda said, grinning as Greta huffed and nodded.

"Can you go fuck yourself?" Greta asked with a sweet smile. "Is that an option?"

Wanda chuckled, shaking her head while Yelena snickered.

"No! A dare is a dare! And you picked dare! You can't wuss out on this. You always try to!"

"I don't have any money," Greta replied, hoping that that would give her an out and Wanda could pick something else. Instead, Wanda just shook her head, her shit-eating grin getting bigger and bigger. Greta felt sick, and suddenly the idea of another drink was sounding like the best and worst idea of all time.

"No, it has to be a tattoo, and it has to be on your ass, or on your ribs. Come on, Greta..."

She and Yelena started a chant of Greta's name, slamming their hands on the counters as Greta rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Well, I’m not getting my ass out in front of a complete stranger,” Greta muttered. 

“Why not? It’s a great ass,” Kate grinned, “so ribs it is, let’s go!” 

That solved her inner drink dilemma, although she probably could have done with a shot of Dutch courage as the girls ushered her out the door excitedly. 

“Do I not get to think about this? I don’t even know what I want to get yet and where are you even taking me? There can’t be a tattoo shop open at this time surely?” She rambled, stalling — or at least trying to.

“White Wolf will be! Peter, got a tattoo there last month.”

"You sure that it's open in the middle of the night?" Greta asked with a mixture of annoyance and worry in her voice as the girls left the club.

"Yeah, I just checked it on Google and it's still open. No excuses, you coward! You chose dare, it's your own fault!" Yelena giggled. 

Greta rolled her eyes and a loud huff escaped her throat. "Fiiiiinnneee.."

It took them only ten minutes to reach "The White Wolf", a small tattoo shop on the main road with a huge window that showed the logo of the shop. Greta turned around to look at her slightly drunk friends and tried to figure a way out of this mess, but they were shoving her through the door before she was able to run away.

The brunette peered around the room and saw a counter in front of her and a small waiting area with comfortable looking couches to her left. On a sideboard next to the couches she could see a few thick albums that probably contained some tattoo inspirations.

No one could be seen by the counter but Greta could hear a small buzzing sound from the back of the room - hiding behind a dark curtain.

"It sounds like they're busy..." Greta turned to her friends with a smile and made to head towards the door, "maybe we should just.." 

She felt a slender hand wrap around her bicep, tugging her back to the counter, "nuh-uh," Kate's voice sang behind her, "We'll wait." 

The knot in Greta's stomach grew as Kate whipped her around, placing her hands on her shoulders, "It's just a little needle and--" 

"Don't be a pussy," Yelena chortled, nudging her, "you'll be fine." 

Greta scoffed as Kate and Wanda tried to hide their quiet snickers. Deep down she had always wanted a tattoo. She just didn't want one as a drunken dare. 

Wanda tapped the small bell on the counter, once, twice, and then a third time, "Hello?"

The buzzing stopped, "Gimme a sec would ya!" A graveled voice boomed from behind the curtain.

Greta’s heart nearly stopped when the voice’s owner stepped out behind the counter, tall and muscular with long black hair tucked into a backward baseball cap. He was gorgeous in a rugged, dirty, sweaty kind of way and her eyes couldn’t help but follow the tattoos that ran down his neck only to disappear beneath his gray t-shirt. 

The sight of Greta and her friends caused the man’s brows to furrow, a look of annoyance crossing his face as he braced both hands against the counter. Behind her, she could hear Kate giggling a sultry hello.

“Well, I’ll be damned, if it isn’t you three ladies… Again.” He hissed.

Greta glared at the back of Wanda's head as all three of her friends giggled sheepishly at the guy while her heart dropped to her knees as his frown only got deeper while they tried to hold in their drunken laughs.

"You gotta admit," Wanda put her hands on her hips and grinned innocently at him, "we're good for your business." 

"And Peter really liked his tattoo," Kate chimed in swirling a lock of hair around a finger and they heard Yelena snicker under her breath at that, "yeah once he stopped being a pain in the ass about how painful it was." 

The man's scowl deepened as the girls laughed at that while Greta felt ambushed by her friends.

“And I guess that’s the new lucky one you found to get a tattoo, huh?” he nodded his head toward Greta, her cheeks blushing a soft pink. 

“Oh, you bet it is,” Wanda turned around to Greta and pulled her in front of the very attractive man. 

“And she’s getting it on her butt cheek,” Wanda winks at the man who couldn’t suppress a smirk. 

“Wanda!” Greta hissed and smacked her shoulder lightly.

She turned her attention back to the man, feeling the blush of embarrassment cross her cheeks.

"Not on my butt," She clarified, shooting a small glare at her friend.

He raised an eyebrow, but his tone remained unimpressed when he spoke again, "Whatever, what are you getting then?"

Greta bit her lip, "Uh, I hadn't thought of that - is there like a book of options?"

"You could always get what Pete got?" Yelena laughed, leaning against the counter her blonde hair cascading down around her cherub face.

The man slid a large leather book from under the counter and set it down with a loud, interrupting thump.

"I'm scared to even ask," Greta sighed, "what is it that Peter got..." She looked up from the book at the man, his blue eyes judging her. 

"James," he offered his name and flipped open the book. "He got that," he said, the muscle in his jaw ticking. 

Greta looked down, her eyes going wide. "That idiot," she mumbled. Between two sheets of plastic, James pointed to a line drawing of what looked to be the Pope smoking a cigarette. "Where did he get that?" She turned wide eyed to the girls. 

"On his ass," they all replied in unison.

Her eyes almost bulged out from the shock. “Is he for real?! And you’re sure he was actually, I don’t know, okay with that?!”

Her friends nodded as they looked at each other with big grins on their faces. 

“Believe me when I say he took the first step with a puffed up chest and a big smile until he ended up holding onto his butt cheek for dear life as he limped out.” Yelena chuckled.

She rubbed her temple and exhaled a heavy sigh and turned back to the man, he tapped impatiently a finger against the counter, eyes practically screaming with boredom from their company. 

She cleared her throat and crossed her arms, thinking about if her mind could come up with an idea of her own instead. Something that at least had a meaning to hear and that she definitely wouldn’t regret having on her body for her whole life.

“Well, I’m definitely not getting that…you cool with me coming up with a suggestion maybe?”

“Girl, as long as it’s on your ass or your ribs you can get whatever you want,” Wanda grinned. 

“Well, I…” Greta started but was interrupted by a frustrated scoff.

“If you ladies don’t mind I gotta go do something more…interesting. Let me know if you decide on something,”

James pushed off from the counter and headed back behind the curtain. Greta watched him for a moment and then fixed her attention back on the book of flash in front of her. It was arranged in alphabetical order so she flicked through the pages until she came to the “S” section. Slowing down she finally came to a halt on a page filled with drawing after drawing of delicate seashells.

She smiled to herself. A seashell would be absolutely perfect. She looked at each design more closely to find just the right one. 

“So Greta what have you decided on?” Wanda asked 

“I’m going to get a seashell,” Greta replied not looking up from the book.

“A seashell? Alright…” Kate shrugged and Greta looked up to see a stone cold look on James’ face. She shivered and glanced away, turning to her friends. 

“Anyone else getting one?” she asked, but her friends were slowly backing up. 

“Nah this is all you girl! We’re gonna go grab some food, but I promise we’ll be back before you’re done,” Kate promised, as Wanda and Yelena waved goodbye, slipping out the door.

Alone? They were leaving her here alone? She watched them as they waved at her through the glass and sneered at them. Wanda winked at her. Greta's heart leapt into her throat as his previous client emerged from behind the curtain. A tall guy with blonde hair and a bushy beard and glasses who was also covered in tattoos. He had a fresh bandage on his bicep.

"Hey, thanks, Buck!"

"No problem, Steve. I'll see you tomorrow for that beer."

The blonde man smiled at her as he passed and Greta forced a smile, watching him walk out the door. She heard a heavy sigh from the counter. 

"You can come on back. I'm just gonna clean up."

"Oh-- you don't want me to wait out here?"

He looked over his shoulder as he went to walk through the curtain. Something in his demeanor changed in an instant. As a cocky smirk spread across his face.

"I ain't gonna bite ya, sweetheart." He winked and she blushed. "Besides, I've gotta do placement and all that shit. If I let you wait out here, you might just run out on this dare and I don't make any money tonight. Let's go."

Greta followed him through to the back and stopped just beyond the curtain, palms sweating as she waited for him to set up his station again. 

Her gaze tracked over his arms, over the intricately inked designs covering taut muscles that flexed as he moved. He seemed oblivious to her admiring him as he discarded the crumpled paper where his friend must have been laying and sprayed everything down. 

“This your first tattoo?” He asked, peering at her as he readied himself with his sketch pad. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as Greta caught herself, forcing her eye to meet his as he beckoned her over to the bed with a pat on the freshly covered leather. 

“Uh, yeah. That obvious?” 

“It’s easy to spot the newbies, you all look like a deer in the headlights when you come back here.”

Greta chuckled nervously when she sat down on the tattoo table next to James.

"So butt or rips?" he asked with his husky voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked while nudging the skin of her left hand. She was more nervous than she had expected. It was only a small needle. How bad could it be?

"The tattoo. Where should it be?" he asked again with a little smirk on his face. Greta tilted her head to look him in the eyes and almost got lost in the depth of the ocean blue that sparkled like sapphires in the sunlight. 

"Oh. Yeah. Rips, please."

"Wow. Such a tough guy." he mumbled while he printed the blueprint of the seashell tattoo. It was a small scallop shell in black and white the size of a small egg. 

Greta was still zoned out and thought about James' blue eyes and hadn't heard his comment at first but when he turned around with the blueprint in his hands she asked "Mhm?"

"I said you're such a tough guy," James repeated - the little smirk very present on his face again.

"Is it thaaaat bad?" concern filled Greta's voice when James pointed to the table and commanded her to lay down.

"Some say so." 

The knot in Greta's chest grew to the size of a tomato and she swallowed the lump in her throat. She was now laying on her right side as he wanted to have the tattoo on her left one.

James looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I thought you wanted me to lay down?"

"Yeah, but you need to pull off your shirt first." he winked at her.

"Oh. Yes. Sure!" she answered and grabbed the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head.

It felt like her heart was going to escape out of her chest as she held her shirt in her hand, glancing back at James. Crystal blue eyes trailed along the curve of her body and the dark teal lace bra she didn't think anyone would see tonight. A wave of goosebumps rolled over her skin as his eyes met her own again. 

He reached out, his hand making a grabbing motion at her. Greta's brows furrowed, confused at what he wanted. 

"Your shirt?" He said with a hint of annoyance in his voice like it was obvious as his eyes flickered to a set of hooks on the wall. 

Realizing he was offering to hang it up for her, she let out a soft breath of relief. "Right.." She handed it to him, watching as he stood, the muscles in his back flexing against the cotton of his shirt. Only making her thighs clench together and an unfamiliar feeling spread in her belly. 

"Alright, lay back for me" he commanded as he turned back to her. Greta followed his command instantly, his voice was low and had just enough gravel in it to cause another wave of goosebumps, "lay still and don't move," his voice surprisingly close as she felt the warmth of his fingers tracing along her side.

Her breathing got quicker with every move he made. She watched his tattooed hand slowly wander to her bra without touching it. 

“I think I need to push it a little up if that’s okay. You can also take it off when you’re comfortable with that. But you don’t have to.” His voice was soft but still icy. She couldn’t exactly make out his feelings, so she nodded as she looked him in the eyes. 

James cleared his throat; the silence was uncomfortable. He took the soft fabric into his fingers and moved it a little to get the perfect spot. In spite of him wearing protective gloves, Greta's skin shivered where his fingers touched her.

He seemed to consider something, then reached to his work table and grabbed a cloth, carefully tucking it under the edge of her bra.

"To protect it from any ink," he explained, when she caught his eye with a questioning look.

"Oh," she said softly, "Thanks."

He nodded stiffly, then set about placing the stencil. He moved it around a couple of times, then, with his fingers firmly holding it in place, he glanced up again, "This good?"

She stared down at him, words caught in her throat like an idiot as the lights created stars in his eyes. He watched her, fingers hovering over her ribcage as he waited for an answer. 

"You ok?" He asked raising an eyebrow at her in question. 

"Yeah," she shook free of the trance he had her under, "that's perfect." 

His expression hardened and he stood up straight bringing the stencil with him. "I've had a lot of bodies in that chair," he said, nodding to it, "but I don't put people in that don't want to be."

"Pretty presumptuous for a guy who tattoos drunk college girls in the middle of the night," she steadied her nerves, biting back. 

"I don't assume anything, you're shaking, Greta." He whispered, his tone low and husky. The corner of his lips curled slightly to the right, "and you aren't that drunk or you'd be a hell of a lot less cranky."

She hadn’t noticed it until he mentioned her state when being sucked down in the thoughts of whenever the needle will burry through her skin and how well, or badly she would take it, but her legs trembled like crazy against the sticky leather chair.

“I’m not cranky…” She muttered, taking a minute to collect herself with a calming breath. “It’s just…it’s my first and I really don’t know what to expect, how much it will hurt.” 

He sighed and took a seat beside her again, a soft look was set in his eyes as he held up the stencil between them. “I get that, but if you’re shaking like that, it will be hard for me to concentrate on doing the lines properly. Let’s just start slow, okay? A small line, see how that feels, hm?” His voice was low but commanding at the same time, making the nerves in her body ease down a bit.

She nodded with a small smile, he moved on and placed down the stencil again to make sure she was pleased with the placement. His tongue poked out in concentration when trying to find the perfect angle and she caught something shiny between his lips, a tongue piercing

James raised his eyebrow in question and jutted his chin towards the mirror on the wall next to them.  Greta looked over to where he indicated, taking in the position of the stencil and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding once.

“Yeah, there’s perfect,” she confirmed.

“Alright then,” he agreed, swiping the stencil paper with a green soap solution before removing it, leaving the violet lines of the design behind ready for him to trace.

He added black ink to a small plastic pot and fixed a brand new needle into his tattoo machine, adjusting the settings before scooping out a dollop of Vaseline onto the back of his left hand.  He buzzed the machine a few times, picking up some ink from the pot and then Greta in the eye with an intense gaze.

“Ready?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” Greta said as she got comfortable lying on her right side. She watched as he turned to face her exposed side and place a hand there.

“Okay, I’m going to start now with a small line so you know how it feels.” He spoke as he placed the needle in her skin and started the machine.

A sharp, stinging pain raced through Greta’s body, but she breathed through it, teeth clenched. It stopped and a dull throb took its place as James stopped tracing. 

“How you doing? Wanna keep going?” he asked gruffly, but gently swept away the excess ink and a drop of blood.

"Yeah, keep going," she said through gritted teeth.

"Alright. You don't have to pretend you're a tough guy to look cool, okay?” he mumbled while continuing to trace the delicate line of the stencil.

"I'm not pretending," Greta whispered as another wave of pain shot through her. Uncomfortable but not unbearable.

"Sure you aren't, sweetheart." That smartass smirk was back and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm really not."

He chuckled as he continued to work and her stubbornness kicked in full force. The burning sensation was rushing through her body and she gritted her teeth, trying to take the softest breath she could as he dragged the needle across her skin.

"I said I believed you." His voice was rough, just barely eeking out over the sound of the buzzing tattoo gun as he worked. Suddenly, he hit a sensitive spot and a sharp gasp left her lips. Her leg twitched and she slammed her eyes shut. 

A gentle hand rested just beneath her ribcage.

"It's okay," he breathed. "I gotcha."

"I don't need a break," she gritted out.

"I know," he laughed. "I'm almost done the outline. Just try to stay still."

"There's more?" She squeaked.

Another soft chuckle. It was starting to get on her nerves.

"You really are a rookie, aren't you?"

“Yeah, yeah… laugh it up,” Greta breathed. 

“Hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere. It’s just usually not the result of a dare unless it’s you…” he chuckled and Greta glared up at him, “or your friend Peter.” 

James flashed her a shit-eating grin, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling at the corners. He really was ridiculously attractive, with a sharp jaw and a perfect nose. She watched as his tongue slipped between his lips in concentration and he dragged it along his bottom lip, revealing more of the piercing she caught sight of earlier. 

“Yeah well, you try saying no to those three.” 

“Sounds like you need new friends,” James said with a raised brow, “or some good revenge.”

He wasn't wrong, revenge sounded great about now as the needle dug into her skin. 

Greta gnawed on the inside of her lip to combat the pain. At least now she and Peter would have something to bond over besides all the sciencey stuff she pretended to know about. 

"As much as I'd love new friends, I'm kinda stuck with those three." She mumbled, glancing down at where he was working. His eyes raised to hers, feeling her shift, "sorry." Greta muttered before glancing forward again. 

"You don't have to be stuck with anyone." He said going back to murdering her skin. 

She laughed softly, "Yeah... I kinda do." 

The smile quickly fell from her lips remembering her first year of college. "The three of them were there for me during a dark time," she started, feeling him stop again. "My uh... grandmother died in my freshman year. We were really close and I didn't take it very well." She took the tiniest of breaths, "you think I'm cranky now, you should've seen me then."

“Well, shit… Sorry about your grandma.” James offered, his tone genuine and sincere, it was the nicest he had been throughout this whole painful ordeal.

“Thanks. She would be mortified to know I was getting a tattoo, but I figure, a seashell would make her smile at least.” Greta said looking down at the contraption she was laying upon, afraid to meet his gaze and not because her ribs felt like they had been punched by the repeated movements of the needle.

She didn’t want James, this complete stranger, to see the tears she was fighting to hold back and she just couldn’t help herself. The word vomit began to flow and she started rambling like an idiot about how her grandmother always took her to beach when she was little, the warmth of the sun bringing her to life after spending so much time drowning in the nuisances of her parent's divorce.

Her grandmother believed the beach had a way of healing people, of washing away fears and anxieties. Somehow she even got Greta to believe that every seashell they picked up out of the sand was a lifelong dream waiting to be fulfilled and before she knew it, she was wiping tears from her eyes and apologizing to the man sitting beside her, just trying to add some ink to her skin.

There was a long silence, Greta could tell he was trying to think of some kind of response but he must not have been that good at handling awkward situations because the next thing out of James’ mouth was:

“My grandma just made me cookies.”

She let out a quiet laugh through her lips, careful not to move and disturb his work so it wouldn't be ruined and she would get stuck with an ugly tattoo as a reminiscent of this dare. 

Trying to reel in the tears, she took a deep breath slowly and let it out through her mouth. Greta was holding herself from shaking as she could faintly feel the needle piercing her skin through the numbness and hoped it would be over soon so she could leave with a shred of dignity left because getting dared to do something like this was easy in comparison to sitting through this stifling tension between her and the blue eyed artist. 

Sure, it was exciting to try new things. It was a great idea to get a tattoo in the shape of a seashell in honor of her grandma. But not because of a dare and not under the hands of this gorgeous man who looked like he could break her in half if he wanted to.

She was so lost in thought, she didn't notice that the needle lifted off her skin until he spoke. 

"It still needs a bit of shading but," James told her as he wiped down the excess ink gently to allow her to see it, his gloved hands sending shivers down her spine, "do you like it?" 

Greta turned to inspect his handy work, a smile coming to her face when she saw the almost complete seashell on her skin.

"Wow," She breathed out, "It's gorgeous."

When she looked back at him, James was looking at her intently, almost like he wanted to say something. Instead, with a faint hint of a blush, he turned back to his work, biting down on his lower lip again.

"Sorry," He mumbled after a moment.

"What for?"

"For being a jerk, ya know, earlier, when you came in."

"I'd be cranky too if a group of drunk girls rolled into my shop right before closing," Greta laughed, resisting the urge to trace the raised sore skin of the tattoo with her finger. 

James pressed a damp cloth to it without warning pulling a soft hiss of pain from her lips.

"I don't do cranky," he smiled at her as he leaned in close to her rib cage. He pursed his lips, hovering inches from her chest and blew cool air against the irritated skin. "I can't say for sure your grandmother would be proud you vandalized your perfect skin but," his blue eyes flutter up through his lashes to catch her gaze, "I think it suits you."

"Oh yeah?" Greta hummed nervously as he leaned over to grab the sheer plastic tattoo coverings. 

"Delicate, intricate," he cleaned the skin one last time as he spoke, "unique, sharp and I imagine a pain in some poor guy's ass." He mumbled. 

"No guy," she responded in barely a whisper. 

James paused his gloved fingers brushing against her ribcage carefully, "hard to believe."

Great felt her face flush at his words and hoped he couldn’t see.  Goosebumps erupted across her skin as he smoothed the edges of the covering down gently, making a second and third pass to make sure it was secured properly.

With a snap, he removed his gloves and then held out his hand with an expectant look on his face. Greta put her hand in his and he gently raised her up.

“You OK Darlin’? Not dizzy or anything?” He asked.

She took a deep breath, taking stock of herself and inhaled his spicy scent, sighing lightly as she responded, “No, I’m fine.” 

James hadn’t let go of her hand, thumb stroking the back of it gently. “You did great for your first tattoo, especially a dared one.”

"Thank you," Greta said before pulling her shirt down carefully not to disturb the covering. James walked in front of her and pulled back the curtain to reveal the empty room, void of the three girls that Greta called her friends. 

"Didn’t they say they would be back before you finished?" James said while walking up to the counter.

"Yeah." Unconsciously, a twinge of sadness swung in her voice.

He nodded as Greta smoothed out her shirt.

"Well, I have to start closing up."

"Oh, I can leave—“

“No, no, it’s okay. It’s dark and cold out there. I’ll clean up, and wait with you if you want to call a cab or an Uber or whatever."

Her eyes widened, surprised at his sudden softness. This guy wasn’t so bad after all. The piece on her ribs really was delicate, evidence of some kind of hidden gentleness that she thought she wouldn’t be privy to.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I can’t leave a pretty girl alone out in the cold, can I? Even if you hang out with those three drunkards.”

She chuckled, cheeks flaming. She chalked it up to adrenaline.

“Thank you, James.”

His eyes brightened when she said his name, and a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. She felt butterflies explode in her stomach as he quickly began to tidy up, putting away the old ink and wiping everything down. Once he was finished, he shucked off his gloves and tossed them into the trash, flicking his head toward the entrance. 

“C’mon. You got a coat?”

She shook her head and he rolled his eyes.

“Are you kidding me? It’s January.” There was an edge to his voice like he gave a shit. He snatched his leather jacket off of the hook and handed it to her as they walked to the front entrance. She could hear his keys jingling in his hand. “Here. Put this on.”

She could spend all night hearing that sound. His laugh rumbled with warmth as the sound surrounded her. Greta couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips as she watched him. He was truly soft underneath his seemingly hard exterior. 

"C'mon," he said holding his arm out for her to tuck into. She only hesitated for a moment, second guessing that he was humoring her but as a brisk wind rushed between them she stepped into him, hugging herself into his side just enough that she could feel his body heat. 

His arm tucked around her waist, his hand placed just below the tender spot on her ribcage. 

"Better?" She asked softly, glancing up at him. 

The corners of his mouth upturned ever so slightly, igniting something in her stomach as his eyes met hers. "Yeah," he breathed. 

She flashed him a satisfied smile as she pulled out her phone, to order herself an Uber. Greta quickly made her way through the app, feeling his gaze on her as she did so. 

"Did you know," he said softly once her phone was put away, "penguins mate for life," a smile, "but to find a mate the male will search for the perfect pebble for the female and if she likes it, they build a nest together." 

Greta stared up at the tattooed man in front of her, baffled. She could only imagine the look she had on her face because he just laughed again. 

"I like watching animal planet sometimes."

“I find that hard to believe, a big tough guy like you.” Greta smiled, looking at the ground to hide the blush creeping across her face.

“I like a good distraction before I settle in for the night,” James said, his voice husky and when she looked up at him, there was something in his eyes.

A kind of need, a hunger maybe, like a predator after prey. Greta on the other hand suddenly felt parched and unable to do anything but look into his blue eyes. 

In fact, she felt like she had been walking through a desert for days seeking water and at that very moment considered drowning herself in the look he was giving her.

She almost wanted to ask if she could be his distraction for the night but before she could even entertain the thought, her phone dinged and a car pulled up.

The guy behind the wheel lowered down the window, ducking his head to look at them, "Greta?" 

He sounded bored as Greta nodded to him.

"Yes! That's me. Just a sec."

She turned to James, already slipping out of the warmth of his jacket to give it to him when he halted her movements with a gentle hand on her. Sparks were moving through her skin at the contact as he lowered his eyes to hers, they were intensely focused on her she had to hold back a gasp.

"Keep it." 

"But—" 

"But nothing," he interrupted her with a firm tone, guiding her to the car and opening the door for her. 

"It's cold and you need it more than me right now. Besides, I live right upstairs." 

She didn't think she could fall under his spell any further but turns out, it is possible for a man of his looks to be as soft as a teddy bear. The heat flushing her cheeks at his kindness was visible as she thanked him.

"Thank you," Greta whispered gratefully as she lowered herself into the car.

"Goodnight, Greta," James murmured as he shut the door and took a step back.

"Goodnight, James," Greta replied back, her hold on the jacket surrounding her tiny frame tightening.

________________________________

The next afternoon, after sleeping late, Greta had thankfully only woken with a minor hangover and even more minor lingering pain from the tattoo.

Coffee and a painkiller had taken care of the worst of it before she'd decided she should go back.

Not only did she need to return the jacket, but she figured she should double check about taking care of her fresh ink - she had been drinking, after all. It had taken her till midday to work up the courage to call an Uber though.

Now she was standing in front of the shop, trying to bolster herself before going inside. 

The door chimed when she finally opened it and stepped inside, stopping the same blonde man behind the counter who had been in the shop the previous night.

"Welcome to White Wolf - oh, hey, you were here last night!"

"Stevie?" Greta nodded as the door shut behind her with a click. The familiar noise of tattoo guns buzzed in the air. 

He walked around the front, leaning against the desk with his rounded muscles crossed over his chest. "Steve," he corrected as his lips turned into a cheeky smile. "What can I do you for?" He looked her up and down, "please tell me you came back to complain. I love it when Buck gets all riled up about bad tattoos." 

He leans forward as she comes into the shop, his hair falling against his cheeks he trailed her path with his ice blue eyes. 

"Nope, but I am here to see him." She waved his jacket in the air. 

Steve pursed his lips and his eyebrows knitted together in judgment, "he's not working today."

"Do you know where he is?" She mocked, her impatience growing. 

"Maybe..." Steve flashed her smile, cocking his head to the side.

“Do you think you could tell me?” she asked, a biting smile shining back at him. Greta grit her jaw as he sucked his teeth, blowing out a breath and looking her up and down before grinning. 

“I’ll make ya a deal. Tell me where he tattooed ya and I’ll tell ya where he is.” 

Greta rolled her eyes debating just leaving the jacket there, but she had to admit, just to herself, she wanted to see James again. 

“My ribs,” she huffed and Steve grinned widely, eyes sparkling. 

“I see…Well, a deal’s a deal- Buck’s up at his place. Head around back and there’s a set of stairs. Knock at the door at the top of them,” Steve winked, jerking his head towards the back of the shop.

"Thanks, Steve." Greta thanked the blonde giant and made her way to the back and up the stairs where she was greeted by a hunter green door. She raised her hand to knock.

After a few fluttering heartbeats she heard footsteps coming closer from the other side of the door and she got increasingly more nervous. 

She was greeted by James, wearing nothing but red flannel pyjama pants. His muscular torso was covered in intricate ink and a silver chain hung from his neck. The same striking blue eyes looked at her laced with surprise. His dark long hair was tied with an elastic at the nape of his neck. 

His gaze travelled up her body as his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, the silver bar in this tongue, glistening in the warm light of his hallway.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, sunshine?" James grinned, the corner of his eyes, crinkled.

Her mouth was a desert and she struggled to swallow and form a coherent thought as she looked him up and down. Her mouth hung open and he smirked, tilting his head to the side. It was that fucking grin again. Her legs suddenly felt like they couldn't hold her weight as his bright blue eyes sparkled.

"You're catching flies."

"Wha?" She asked as he leaned over, his finger sliding under her chin to close her mouth. Slowly, he dragged his tongue across his bottom lip and she got a good look at the tongue ring. Sweat formed on her brow. Her cheeks flamed and she hung her head. "Jacket."

He leaned forward, still smiling,

"What was that, princess? I didn't catch that."

"I-- I brought your jacket back, and to ask about aftercare-- I mean tattoo aftercare... It's called that, right?"

He was beaming. Smug motherfucker, she thought. He flicked his head. 

"Come on in. You want a cup of coffee?"

Greta stared back at him, her jaw clenching only to keep it from falling open again. She glanced down at the stairs, she could leave now. Just throw the jacket at him, run down the stairs, and save herself the embarrassment of melting in front of this man. 

"It's a simple yes or no darling, you need some caffeine?" James asked, leaning against the door frame his eyes narrowing playfully. The grin still plastered over his perfect mouth, the stubble he had last night had somehow gotten darker and it was now she could see the small patches of grey. 

"Caffeine sounds great," she smiled, deciding against her flight response as she willed her feet to move.

"Come on in." 

James encouraged, taking a step back as she took a tentative step then a second one inside, immediately engulfed in his scent that lingered more intensely around them in his living space when he closed the door behind her.

His fingers touched hers as he took the jacket, and hung it on a hook before walking towards what she assumed was the kitchen.

Her eyes darted everywhere. Trying to take in as much as she could and learn more about him, the place was surprisingly tidy and clean for being a guy's place.

What stood out to her as she took a few steps further inside was the shelves lining one wall, filled with books upon books. If she looked closely enough she'd get a glimpse of drawings on their worn covers.

His head peaked at her from behind a  cabinet, cutting her out of her curious glances.

"You coming? I don't bite, Greta." 

His lips curled upwards in a smirk when she shuffled in a hurry to him.

James gestured to the cupboard when she approached, "Pick a mug, any mug."

When Greta peered inside there was a variety of mismatched mugs in a variety of sizes and shapes. 

"Oh, that one," she pointed at a dark grey mug with a red star on the side.

James smiled, pulling it down for her, "That's my favorite one."

He poured her a cup from the carafe in the kitchen and held it out to her with the handle out. She reached for the base of the mug but he pulled it from her reach, "It's hot, take the handle," he laughed and she rolled her eyes but listened. 

She turned, watching him walk around the butcher block island and into the loft. The exposed brick walls held more than just shelves of books, but art and crates full of old records. In the middle of the living room, he slid down against his brown leather couch and patted it gently. 

She sat down next to him awkwardly, her nose filling with his scent as the cushions squished beneath her. She gripped the mug between her fingers and bit the inside of her lip nervously as her eyes settled on the two large pane windows behind him. 

"Can I see?" he asked, tilting his head to catch her gaze. 

She turned back to him, her eyebrowed curled up in confusion. 

"The shell," he laughed. 

"Oh yeah of course," she set her cup down on the table in front of her and angled it so he could see her side. 

His fingers brushed against the sliver of bare skin around her hips and lifted the shirt up around her ribs. Greta’s breath hitched, and his fingers paused momentarily, before resuming their journey, gently tracing around the tattoo. His touch was featherlight but warm, heat radiating from him. 

“Good girl, took care of this nicely,” James murmured, voice low and soft a little less grave than last night. 

Greta shivered at his words, a breathy “Thanks,” falling from her lips as his fingers kept tracing patterns on her skin.

"Lines still look good," he whispered as her eyes closed and she nodded. "You did well last night."

Her chest heaved. Greta wanted to hear that "good girl" spoken over and over again in her ear. She wanted to beg him to say it again but thought better of it. Instead, all she could muster was pathetic, "y--yeah. They do."

"You okay?" He asked as he looked up at her.

Her heart was racing, she felt dizzy, and her chest was heaving. She was anything but okay right now.

"Still hung over," she murmured.

"Hmm." That gentle, gravelly voice was going to be the death of her. He withdrew his hand and took his sweet time putting her shirt back down, his knuckles brushing against her as he went. She opened her eyes and took a sip of coffee as he leaned back.

"You'll wanna keep that moisturized, clean, and dry. I can give you a pamphlet. I got lots of 'em up here."

"Thanks." She looked around, trying to calm herself down, staring at his bookshelf. Lots of art books. She smiled. "This place is cute."

He chuckled and his eyes lit up as his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Greta felt her heart begin to race again.

"Looks a lot prettier with you in it, darling."

She hid the blush creeping up her cheeks behind her mug, taking another sip as her eyes flickered to him. Ice blue eyes were still trained on her, that hungry look had returned and she couldn't help the way her inner thigh muscles tensed watching him. He wasn't real. No man that looked like that was real. 

"Thanks," she mustered. 

"You didn't have to bring back the jacket," he said, sipping his own coffee and leaning back into the leather, "kinda glad you did though." 

Greta glanced over at him, a glimmer of hope that he was happy to see her again flooded her chest, "yeah?" 

"It's my favorite jacket." 

As quickly as it came, the hope deflated and she nodded, forcing a smile, "Well, thanks for letting me borrow it." 

She could feel James watching her for a moment before he leaned forward, setting his mug on the coffee table in front of them. Her eyes roamed his body, watching the way his muscles moved. The now familiar ember ignited in her stomach as he reached for her mug, gently taking it from her and setting it next to his. Curiosity now filled her. 

"You're taking it with you when you leave today," he said lowly, reaching forward and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

Once again breathless, her brows knit together, "why?" 

There was that smile again, "so you have another excuse to come to see me again."

"If you wanted to see me, James, you just had to ask." Greta leaned a little closer, curling her leg under her ass on the couch. 

"I don't think that's how you operate," his ocean eyes flickered over her, landing on her lips and watching as she spoke. 

"Tell me then, after four long hours of knowing me, how exactly do I operate?" She rested her hand on the back of the couch and slid forward so her knees pressed to his thigh, his eyes still locked on her lips until she cleared her throat. "Cat got your tongue?" She teased and he looked up at her with a sly smile on his face. 

"I wish," he mumbled sitting up he leaned in close, his nose practically touching hers. He raised one hand, running one of his knuckles down the flushed slope of her neck under her dark hair. "You and your little gang operate on truth and dare," he whispered, his voice low and husky. 

"My little gang?" She laughed. "You seem a little old to be playing truth and dare." She teased, leaning in his touch as his fingers brushed under the collar of her shirt.

"Ouch," he nodded, inching closer. "I think you're just scared to play with me," he licked his bottom lip. 

"I never lose," she hums, her body gravitating toward him. "If anyone is scared it's you," she whispered. 

James laughed nervously, "you're infuriating."

She thought about it, her lips curling into a smile as the right words came to mind, "I dare you to kiss me," she swallowed tightly as his eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes.

James’ eyes were smoldering, boring into hers as he leaned up, one arm on the back of the couch, his other hand coming up to grip her chin lightly. 

Greta’s eyes fluttered and started shutting as James leaned in, his lips touching hers gently before pulling away, coming back again, to press a little harder. His hand slid from her chin down her throat, slowly trailing between her breasts before going around to her waist. 

His fingers gripped her delicately, as the tip of his tongue traced her lower lip. She parted them and his tongue slipped inside, the piercing a cool shock against hers.

Greta gasped and melted against him as his tongue slid against hers. Her hands didn't know where to go, and she floundered for a second before one of them wrapped around his bicep, fingernails digging in as the kiss go more intense. Her stomach was an explosion of fireworks and he gently bit down on her bottom lip before sucking on it, pulling a moan from the depths of her throat. That mischievous chuckle filled the space between them, taking the place of unbridled tension for just a moment and she let out a giggle as he pulled back. His cheeks were flushed and his lips bitten red. Her chest heaved.

"More," she breathed.

He arched a brow.

"More?"

She nodded and he leaned forward slowly, his head tilting to the side. Lips hovered over hers and they shared a short breath before he pulled back just as she went to kiss him again. He smirked.

"I dare you to beg me for it."

Greta sucked in a breath craving more of him. Her hand wrapped around his bicep and released its hold. She dragged it slowly to the middle of his chest before lifting her palm so only her fingertips were left touching him. She could feel the way his heart was hammering against his own chest, matching the rapid pace of hers. 

He looked calm and collected on the outside but his heart gave him away and two can play this game. 

She leaned into him ghosting her lips over his jawline, letting his stubble prickle at her kiss bitten lips. Greta nipped at him, leaving a trail of kisses along his cheekbone and up to his ear, and whispered, "make me."

A deep sound that was a mix of a growl and a chuckle left James' chest, as he moved to lock his eyes with hers, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. His hand moved back up her body, landing on her neck as the tip of his thumb ghosted her throat. 

"That's not the game, Greta" He whispered, before leaning in and taking her bottom lip between his teeth, gently pulling backward. "I thought you didn't lose" 

Greta swallowed the lump in her throat as she stared at him, trying to stifle a moan that wanted to escape as he pulled at her bottom lip. This guy was good. But so was she. Despite how fuzzy he made her brain go, there was a prize here that was going to be hers at any cost. 

James' free hand moved softly up her thigh, teasing her through her leggings and touching every nerve that made her want to pounce on him right there. 

"I don't lose..." Greta moved to sit herself up, placing her hand on his chest and pushing him gently backwards, "You just haven't given me anything to beg for..." She teased, tracing her tongue up his neck, and nipping the skin on the edge of his jaw.

His eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to guess what she wanted him to do.

"Hmm, you want something to beg for, princess?" He asked, abruptly sitting back up.

With a yelp, Greta found herself caged underneath him, his body hovering over hers as his tongue dragged along her collarbone to her neck.

He stopped at her ear, a low growl of appreciation rumbling out before he whispered, "Maybe we'll both win today."

His teeth raked over her jaw painfully slowly as his hand snaked beneath her. His fingers dug into her back, pulling her hips to collide with his. 

A strangled gasp left her lips, forcing a smirk to form on his lips. His long hair fell around his face, tickling her face as he pressed himself against her. Her legs fell open without effort as he rolled between them and gave her exactly what she wanted in the form of pressure from his disco stick. 

"James," his name dripped from her lips as her fingers found their way beneath his shirt and dug into his back. 

"Almost," he whispered, licking her top lip and pulling away before she could get more of him. "Louder for me," he pressed her, he wasn't going to give her anything until she truly begged him.

Greta huffed, and James buried his face back in her neck, nipping lightly. 

“James!” she yelped, and she could feel his grin against her skin. He rolled his hips down against her as he brought his lips back to hers. His tongue swept through her mouth, sliding wetly along hers, piercing sleek against it. 

Greta moaned, sucking on his tongue as she wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him closer, hands sliding up and down his inked back.

He let out a whine as she released him and his lips found her neck with ease as he continued to tease her. The pressure from his cock grinding down against her was almost too much. He moaned in her ear and her toes curled, back arching off of the couch.

"Keep saying my name like that, sugar, and you're gonna get all of this and more."

Her eyes rolled back and he tugged at the hem of her shirt, pulling her back down to earth.

"Can we get this off of you?" He asked, his eyes softening before adding, "Please? I want to get a damn good look at you."

"Yes," she breathed as he gave her some room to sit up. 

His fingers hooked into the fabric and he helped her raise the arm that was on her tattooed side. He pulled it off slowly, as though he were unwrapping her like a gift. She felt the fabric brush against her tattoo and inhaled a little deeper while her heart thumped in her throat. Finally, the shirt reached her fingertips and it flew somewhere across the apartment as James gripped her waist and his head dived for the top of her breast, placing hot open mouthed kisses all the way toward the center of her chest, all while he pushed her back down to the cushions. His mouth then moved down, over the roughness of her bra and down her belly. 

He looked up at her and then smiled before he began to make small circles with the tip of his tongue on her belly. She could feel the piercing gliding against her skin and her breath hitched and they locked eyes.

"I need to hear you ask for it, Greta." Flames licked the inside of her belly and she whined. James's fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings. "Be a good girl."

"Oh fuck" she moaned under her breath, between the way his lips and tongue felt against her body and the way his fingers traced perfectly over her curves, Greta felt like she was going to combust. 

Her hips writhed beneath him, urging him to rip the leggings off of her, but he waited needing the words her brain was struggling to form. 

James hovered over her stomach, dragging his tongue from her navel up to her neck as his hand gripped her chin. He took her earlobe between his teeth, causing her to gasp, "I said to be a good girl," 

Fuck it. She thought, the fire in her stomach was becoming too much and all she wanted was every bit of him. "Please," she begged between a moan and a whisper, "make me beg for it, please." 

Another low chuckle rumbled through him, "as you wish."

He dug his fingers into the waistband of her leggings, and pulled them off painfully slowly, tossing them somewhere in the apartment once she was free of them. He grasped her calf, and pressed a soft kiss to her ankle, ghosting his lips gently up her leg, leaving kisses and gentle nips in his wake. This man really knew how to light a fire under her skin, but there was no doubt in her mind that every second of this torturous pleasure was going to be worth it. 

"James..." She whined, biting down on her bottom lip as a jolt of pleasure shot up her spine. 

"Patience, angel" He grumbled into the skin of her thigh, moving to place his lips on her hip bone. 

His hand moved up to trail his knuckle along her clothed cunt, a smirk forming on his lips. "So wet, just for me... Such a good girl" He pressed more kisses into her skin as his fingertip worked teasing her clit through the black lace.

Greta wasn't sure she could stand the teasing much longer. 

"Please, James," She breathed out, a whine lingering at the end of the words, "Please."

"Please, what?" He asked, his lips still softly kissing her thighs on either side of her panties.

"Please, I need to feel you," She begged.

One eyebrow quirked up, "Oh yeah?"

She nodded immediately, whining as his fingers pushed a little harder against her clit, still overtop of the wet fabric.

"Can I take these off, sweetheart?" He asked, tugging at the band of her panties.

Greta nodded desperately, gasping out another ragged “Please,” before James hooked his fingers around the waistband and pulled them down her legs, throwing them to the floor as he leaned in between her legs. 

“Ready sweetheart?” James asked, breathing hotly over her bare cunt. 

“Oh god, yes!” she groaned, half frustration, half arousal. He lifted the corner of his lips before ducking down and licking a long stripe up her folds. The piercing was still a little cool but added an amazing gliding sensation against her skin. 

“James…” she moaned, hands burying deep in his long hair, pulling on the strands as he slowly circled her clit.

The groan that sprang from his throat made goosebumps cascade over her entire body and she shivered in the best way. Her hands came to knot in his hair as he teased her with the tip of his tongue, circling around her clit this time instead of actually touching it. The bead from his piercing just barely grazed the swollen bundle of nerves. Frustrated, she tried to drive her hips harder against him and he chuckled before giving her just a little more. He chuckled and looked up at her, pulling away for only a moment.

"I haven't had breakfast and I want to take my time with you," he purred. "Unless you have somewhere to be."

She shook her head and he smiled.

"Good, then lie back down for me." He paused to dip his head and gently flick her clit. "Please?"

She groaned in frustration, wanting--needing more from his mouth. His plea only egged on her arousal. "I...need," Greta sobbed, circling her hips as he went still, his tongue barely touching her. 

He let out a breath, warm heat fanning over her clit, "what do you need sweetheart?" James dove back in, running his tongue through her, flattening it over the one spot that was begging to be touched. 

"More," she choked out, "I need more." 

"So greedy, little one." He grinned, "but," James licked her again, swirling his tongue around her clit. The piercing driving her mad, "I suppose you've been good, so I'll give you what you want." 

Greta whined at his words, feeling him once again dive into her. His tongue lashed at her most sensitive bits. The room filled with the sounds of his mouth sucking and nipping at her arousal creating a symphony with the moans spilling from her lips. 

Her eyes slammed shut, feeling the hard muscle of his arm draped over her belly, holding her hips to the leather. 

"Stay still for me darlin, like I know you can."

Greta's breath hitched, as she bit down on her bottom lip and let out a whimper. Every piece of her felt like it was on fire and the sweet release she was chasing was inching closer with every flick of his tongue. 

"You wanted me to beg, so I'm fucking begging" She moaned, pushing her head back into the cushions of the couch. "Please, James... Please" 

A playful smirk crept onto his face as he kissed her thigh, and teased her entrance with the tip of his finger. James pulled her swollen bud between his teeth before sucking on it and shoving his finger into her and curling it against her g-spot. 

"Fuck, yes!" She moaned, as a shiver of pleasure shot up her spine, making her head go fuzzy. "Just like that, god that feels good"

James kept his pace, the rhythm of his tongue against her clit matching the curl of his finger, sending Greta into a frenzy as her sounds filled his apartment. She was sure the shop below could hear, but she didn't care. This man knew exactly what he was doing.

"Oh! Oh God, James!" Greta cried out as the world seemed to explode around her.

James didn't stop his relentless attention between her legs though. 

A second finger pushed into her, and his groan vibrated up through her body while he continued his onslaught on her clit with his tongue.

Already so sensitive from one orgasm, the second seemed to overcome her without warning. Greta's back arched as she cried out again, her fingers pulling on his hair.

"S-stop - holy shit, stop," She pleaded, her senses overwhelmed and unable to handle anymore.

James pulled away then, the loss of his fingers suddenly making her feel empty. In spite of two mind-shattering orgasms in a row, instead of seeking a reprieve, Greta found herself desperately wanting more.

"You okay?" He asked, licking his lips.

She surged forwards, grabbing his neck and pulling him up to her lips, kissing him and tasting herself. 

“More,” she rasped, reaching one hand down to play with his waistband. His hands joined hers and pushed his pyjama pants and briefs down, freeing his hard cock. It slapped against his stomach, thick and long, red at the tip and leaking. 

James groaned and bit down on Greta’s lip, making her whimper. She grasped his dick, guiding him between her legs and he rocked his hips against hers, dick sliding through her folds. She gasped and he chuckled tightly. 

“Ready sweetheart?” he asked, raising his eyes to hers. 

“Please…” she breathed, “I dare you to make me yours” he groaned, pressing his lips hard to hers again.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about that," he groaned as he eased himself into her and Greta raked her fingernails down his back. He filled her up completely and she wound one leg around his waist, her heel digging into his ass as he bottomed out.

"Oh, God!"

He chuckled against her ear.

"It's just me, sweetheart. But thanks for the compliment."

Slowly, his hips began to move slowly, filling her up and forcing a moan to spill from her lips. His lips found their way along her jawline, over the shell of her ear, and eventually to her forehead where he pressed a soft kiss as he pushed himself deeper with another thrust. She cried out and he shushed her gently.

"It's okay. You can take it, can't you?"

It wasn't mocking, more like checking in with her. And for some reason, it was the hottest fucking thing that came out of his mouth. Her entire body shivered and she nodded. He pressed a second kiss to her forehead as his hips sped up.

"Atta girl."

At his words, her cunt clenched around him and a whimper escaped her throat, pulling a small smirk from James. 

"You have a little bit of a praise kink, don't you?" He groaned, dipping his head to suck a dark mark onto her the skin of her collarbone. 

Greta sucked in a shaky breath, and bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan. The pleasure building up inside her made all her thoughts shoot out of her mind and she wasn't able to form a response outside of letting out a groan and clenching around him once more. 

Picking up the pace of his hips, James moved his lips to pepper the side of her neck with kisses that matched his rhythm. "You take me so well, sweet girl.." He mumbled into her, "I'm right here, I've got you..." 

"James..." A sob left her throat as the pit of her belly built with the pressure of her arousal. 

"You're okay, you can take it..." He reached up and took one of her hands, interlacing their fingers and giving her a reassuring squeeze as his thrusts became quicker. "Come for me once more, beautiful... I'm close" He grunted, before slamming his lips onto her, swallowing a moan.

"James - don't stop!" She whined, bucking up to meet his next thrust. 

He burrowed his head into her shoulder, where she felt his teeth graze her skin. The light pain was surprisingly pleasurable when he bit her, an almost feral growl escaping him when she cried out again. 

Greta's nails dug into his back then, "James - James, I'm - I'm gonna -"

“Please,” he begged as his hips snapped harder. 

The pace was perfect, and just enough to push her right over the edge. She cried out and her back arched as she pressed into him, a ragged moan dripping from her mouth in long, elongated vowels. James fucked her harder and deeper, biting down on his bottom lip until he was grunting and whimpering in her ear. She could hear their skin making the leather couch squeak and then his hips stilled and he came with a beautiful moan, his head falling forward as he bit down into her shoulder. Gently. She smiled and he collapsed on top of her, both of them breathing heavily. His mouth found hers in a sweet and soft kiss that made them both giggle when it broke. 

James stared at her and she blushed.

“What?”

“Nothing, I was just thinking about that thing you said about penguins.”

“You were thinking about penguins during sex?” She laughed.

“No, no. No, just now. I was thinking about what I told you about the male penguin bringing his mate a pebble.”

Somehow, they had enough room to roll over so that his back was pressed against the back of the couch and his hand drifted up her waist, lingering at the edge of the tattoo bandage. She shivered at the touch and he smiled as he gently began to trace over the bandage with a featherlight touch. She looked down and smiled.

“This is the pebble?” She asked softly.

“This is the pebble.” Their eyes met. His were so soft. “You wanna go out tonight? And tomorrow?” 

“And the next day?” She laughed as he pressed his nose against hers. 

“Hey, if you’re offering,” he chuckled as he brushed her hair away from her face.

She stared at him, tracing every inch of his face before a smile broke out across hers.

“Yes. I do.”

“Perfect,” he breathed as she tucked herself into his chest. 

He played with her hair and she closed her eyes. She had to thank Wanda for getting her out of her comfort zone.

[gayofthefae]

I see the van scene as an expanded version of the scene on top of the car in the desert. I've said this before about what Mike might have been about to say in the desert and had Will not interrupted him in the van but this is something different. This is about Mike's perspective and obliviousness.

I think the reason Mike doesn't know Will has feelings for him is *because* he holds him in such high regard. *Such* high regard that he could be pining after Will and Will could say "do you ever feel like you're in love with your best friend?" He would think "Wow, how does Will get me so much?" And not "Why is he asking for me to relate to HIM? Why does he feel that?"

So when Will talks about how sometimes you're scared to share your secrets, he just nods to himself. He doesn't question where this wisdom comes from because, well, he's Will the Wise. He always knows what to say, so why wouldn't he now too?

So I think that the van scene's oblivion may be much the same. Mike looking at Will thinking "you're so in tune to me to be able to just verbalize my own feelings back to me" and not "why are you crying? Is it because you aren't echoing my feelings, you're verbalizing yours? Why do you know these feelings well enough to recognize them in me?"

The explanation for his oblivion is INHERENTLY reciprocation. He doesn't question the source of Will's wisdom because he doesn't ever question Will. Will is just this beacon of light (see: the literal lighting in the van scene) and I do think it's important for him not to idealize Will and El but the truth of the matter is he does, so if Will were to piece by piece explain what being in love with your best friend feels like, Mike would think "how does he see right through me" not "how would he know".

Additionally, this is why we need eye contact. Because if they just goddamn looked at each other through a conversation I think he'd really see *Will* in those moments. But they're both just so goddamn piney that they seek each other's eyeline and can only be vulnerable while looking away at alternating times.

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

My DC Cinematic Universe: Superman (Part XII)

Part Twelve: Hope

...Jesus Christ, did I actually devote 11 POSTS to this? Goddamn. Well, since I've come this far...

When I started this, I originally planned , like 6 posts, tops. And then, I just kept...typing...more. It's hard for me not to talk about this, I guess, because...well, as I said in the very first post, I love Superman. He's always been my favorite DC hero, and not just because of his supporting cast, or the villains, or the stories told about him. I do love those things, but no. Superman is my favorite because he represents hope in a bleak, uncaring world. A world that's so often marred by violence and pain, and terror around every corner. Superman is the bright colorful primary hope in a greyscale noir darkness. A solar-powered beacon amongst the gloom.

And that sucks, because more and more, it feels like audiences...don't really want that from their heroes. Or at least, filmmakers don't think they do. Think about this for a second. How many heroes in the DC Universe do you think actually inspire hope? In the comics, a bunch could be given that mantle, as well as the Justice League as a whole, most of the time. But the movies?

Think about this. I mean really think about this, OK? Pattinson's Batman is the first version of the character to directly help people as a hero. Sure, Nolan and Burton's Batmen helped people indirectly, and maybe saved a couple of people they didn't know personally, like...a few times? But they never really helped people directly in the same way as Pattinson's Batman did. I'll be making a post about Batman soon enough, but this most recent version is definitely one of the better ones for me for this reason. That said, though, Batman is supposed to inspire fear primarily, which the Pattinson Batman also does well. But what about the other major heroes we've seen?

Well, Wonder Woman is supposed to exude strength in truth, and I definitely don't think Gadot's Wonder Woman pulls that off in her most recent installment. After all, most of that film is basically composed of her lying to herself, and I also think it's one of the reasons that giving her the secret identity of Diana Prince is a mistake. Again, I'll get to her in a later essay series. Oof, that one's gonna be interesting.

I like Momoa's Aquaman, but I can't say he inspires much hope, in either the films or the comics. It's not really his bag. To be fair, a huge problem with his personalization is that he's more defined by his role and powers, than he is as a human being. And Momoa does that well enough, but also leans more into the "underwater badass" vibe than anything else. Which has...mixed results, in truth. Again, Aquaman'll get another entry; I have ideas for him as well.

Cyborg exudes...being depressed. He should more exude anger and frustration, in my opinion, alongside an existential angst, but he's not particularly hopeful. Inspirational, maybe? Even then, that's another character with poor characterization in recent years in the comics, mostly due to the bizarre decision to choose him as a member of the Justice League in the New 52. That's a whole other issue I have, and we'll get to that one too...somehow.

I think that's everybody, right? Right?

Ew, Ezra Miller. Gross. Well, if I must. First of all, Flash is one of my other favorite DC heroes. Yes, I know, I'm a basic bitch of a comic book fan, but sue me. I liked Flash WAY before he was cool, back in the mid-2000s as a teenager. As a hero, Flash does inspire some hope, but weirdly enough...I think he inspires more wonder and mystery than hope. A red wind that blows in and fixes your problems. He wears a mask, but also wears a smile. Unlike Superman, he doesn't exude the sane amount of trust with an unobscured face, but he still inspires joy and excitement. And Miller's Flash annoys the ever-loving shit out of me. I know, the new movie is allegedly great, but we'll goddamn see. He's not my Flash, that's for sure, and he's certainly not the most hope-inspiring hero.

What about Shazam? Again, more wonder from him in the film, but he's also a bit of a hopeful figure in the comics, at least in his early incarnations. I wouldn't say that that's reflected in the film, but the film version is based more on the New 52 version of the character, and he has more of a family-oriented message. And for the record, I think that works perfectly for the character, so no complaints here.

And of course...there's Cavill's Superman. I've said it once, and I'll say it again: I do like Cavill's Superman in a number of ways. With what he's given, he's not bad in the role. But of all things that Superman represents in the Snyder DCU, it isn't hope. Sure, he claims that the symbol on his chest stands for hope (WHICH IT FUCKING DOESN'T, BY THE WAY), but you know what I think when I watch his performance as Superman?

Oh, look, it's the guy responsible for the DEATHS OF HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE! Yeah, bug fucking surprise there, I know, but that's a little piece of baggage that's kinda hard to shake, I think! Sorry, but he never recovers from that for me, and the sequel honestly makes it worse, because they emphasize that even more. It doesn't work, and it certainly wouldn't inspire hope in me if I was in that universe.

Look, I get that I'm rambling. I'm a rambler, it's what I do, but my point is this: we deserve a Superman that we actually like, and that inspires hope in us and the people of Metropolis. Reeves mostly pulled that off, and it's time to bring that idea back to live-action Superman. And here's the fun thing about that concept...it can inspire stories to come. Because, hey...let's say that this first movie puts Superman on the path to inspiring hope. Because that's what I did. I introduced the character and his friends and foes, emphasized his struggles in the film, and examined his impact on the people of Metropolis. That's where you start.

We hit the second movie, and we cement Superman's popularity. We started the first film with metropolis feeling neutral-to-negative. Then, we start the second movie with Metropolis at two extremes. Those people influenced by Gordon Crown will see the negative aspects of Superman's presence, while the others will see Superman as the heroic figure he is. The city's divided on how they feel. But, by the end of that movie, we'll swing more towards those extremes, with greater negative threats making themselves known. Still, positive attitudes get even more positive at the same time. And then...third movie.

Third theoretical film will cement Superman as a bastion of hope, but will also make one of the main villains against him Gordon Crown, as well as Metropolis itself in some ways. The journey of Superman over the course of these films is truly turning him into a beacon of hope for Metropolis, and for the world at large. It is, quite literally, the hero's journey.

And personally, I think that'd be interesting to watch.

...Look, if you've made it this far, I really genuinely hope you liked this long-ass essay series. Honestly, despite the rigor...I had a good time typing it all up. I feel like I always have these ideas, and I never have an outlet to dump them all into, so I appreciate this hellsite being that outlet, as well as appreciating anyone who somehow has the free time to read my word vomit.

So, yeah, now what? I mean, I think the next step in this crazy-ass journey of mine is pretty obvious...kinda. So when that time comes up...well, I'll see you there. Right, buddy?

Index: Superman

Part I: Why I Love Superman

Part II: On Lois Lane

Part III: The Kents

Part IV: The 'Rents

Part V: The...Frendts?

Part VI: Lex Luthor

Part VII: The Real Villains

Part VIII: Superman's Rogues Gallery

Part IX: The Story - Act One

Part X: The Story (Acts Two and Three)

Part XI: The Story - Climax

Part XII: Epilogue (Part One)

Part XIII: Epilogue (Part Two)

[whatsnewalycat]

Positive LGBTQIA+ representation and visibility is so fucking important.

I grew up in a rural area that’s heavily conservative during a time where it was still very mainstream to be homophobic (graduated HS in 2010). My family was (and to an extent, still is) homophobic. It was the culture to be straight. And, ya know, I won’t get heavy into them, but there were so many goddamn signs that I wasn’t straight. From a young age I longed for other girls. But I was truly convinced I was straight because that couldn’t happen to me.

I think I was protecting myself. Deep down, I knew that I wouldn’t be safe if I wasn’t straight. When I was a kid, who already had abandonment issues, I overheard my dad saying that if I was a lesbian he would still love me but he wouldn’t accept me.

But what is love of not being accepting of everything a person is??

Anyway.

I didn’t realize I was bisexual until I was 27 years old. By that time I had already been intimate with a woman and still thought I was straight lol. I came out to my husband and my closest friends. Then after they still loved me I came out publicly.

Since coming out, and being open about my sexuality, I’ve had people reach out to me privately and come out to me. My mom and my daughter have come out to me.

My daughter says with pride that she’s bisexual and words can’t explain how relieved I am that she doesn’t have to live in that specific hell that I did for 27 years. That she feels safe and loved enough to express this part of her.

When people come out, for lgbtqia+ people to be visible, it’s a beacon of hope. It’s telling the people still in the closet, even if they don’t know it, that their truth is valid. That it can happen to them and that’s fucking beautiful. It’s not bad. We celebrate it. There’s strength in community and in numbers.

Obvious caveat is that sometimes coming out will expose people to very painful and potentially dangerous circumstances. That is, unfortunately, still part of the reality of existing as an lgbtqia+ person. But sometimes it’s worth the risk, because living your life in the closet is also very painful and potentially dangerous.

[entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys]

I was going to give you a Discord link but I rather give you this.

. . .

If you don't want to join our Discord for more information, Good.

We probably don't want you here anyway, the amount of people we had the fucking band literally at this point reaching a thousand.

You can read the fucking invite and the reason why I'm posting this is just in case if you want more information or if you want to talk to me directly or something I post a whole bunch of Fairy stuff there

Keep in mind I do not post this very stuff for entertainment I do not post it for fun I post it as a distress beacon

!

Imagine sending a fucking message in a bottle but you sent trillions of the fucking thing's !

!

I'm not making these God damn post on this fucking website for your goddamn entertainment I need some fucking help, I don't mean mental help with a lot of people are really mean about that whenever you try to tell spiritual truth or paranormal truth people go right to call you a schizophrenic it's the most favorite word to call anybody, especially open-minded stuff hyperintellectual stuff paranormal stuff alien stuff religious stuff spiritual stuff taboo stuff

It's a very high chance if you say something very intellectual you're going to get Called a schizophrenic as well

. . .

So anytime you see me say anything about my people on the internet I I don't post I never post any of this shit for fun it's never entertainment it's never for fun, it's a fucking distressed beacon

. . .

But if you want to you can join the Discord if you want you better if but if you join there are a couple of rules

1. No, Being a mute. - once you into the server you better start fucking yapping & talking, explain who you are why you're there what your intent is !

2. You better be there to learn, if you're not going to learn or contribute or try to do the most important thing that I want people to do is fucking help me find my God damn people or get information about the Gray's, Accurate Information ! Then you will be swiftly removed from the server if you are inactive for a long period of time you will then be completely kicked out but not banned ! - allowing people to rejoin a later date.

3. Don't be a dick and post stupid shit and don't post stupid shit in, A important place like the main Chat and don't post shit in the wrong Channel, understand that I'm perfectly fine with these spamming I don't got a Problem with spammers, as a matter of fact I fucking encourage it.

But as long as you're spamming truth, you spamming useful data, either way I just want to let you know that when you join the server you're basically on the team, if you dick around or fuck around or start going against the message of the server or you're not contributing any other part of the server then you will be removed cuz you have no place being there therefore you are a problem therefore you mostly going to rot or spoil or Fester with me people end up Rotting Away, Anyway and they end up turning into complete dicks and fucking things over

@Reader

But, don't worry I won't leave you high and dry.

👍🏻

Here's a little bit of Content !

Link :

[scoutpologist]

kim is so goddamn interesting because something about him just makes the player ACHE for his approval. in such a turbulent world, he's almost a beacon of truthfulness and light. wherever we go, he will follow. he is loyal, immediately and horribly so, for some inconspicuous reason, and many players want to EARN that. his disapproval, while subtle in comparison to the rest of the characters (who usually take to spitting venom or even slurs), stings. hard.

at some point in the game, it is made clear to us that, after knowing us for only a couple days at this point, kim would die for us. without a moment's hesitation. i have no doubt that this is trauma related - kim is implied to have ptsd surrounding the death of eyes (his previous partner). while we're shot in the tribunal, kim risks getting shot and killed himself to attend to our wound and beg us to stay awake. he stitches us up himself. he sits by our bed for two days. it's a lot for someone you barely know.

but the entire time, all the buildup to these moments and even after, we barely ever see the flashes of emotion that kim lets through. they're easy to miss. he's levelheaded, nearly cold, faithful in the RCM to a fault. his smiles are treasures. his laughter is a rare gift. we learn he doesn't even blush, that only the tips of his ears get red (although he can become flushed with anger if driven to yell).

he is forgiving and gentle and so, so removed. but he follows us to the end. it's enchanting how he is the only one who is good to you throughout the entire game. the only person who never leaves you. the rest of the world could care less if you live or die, but kim, for some reason, *loves* you, and that's the lightning in a bottle of the whole thing. someone loves you, and you want so, so badly to bring it into the light. just to see him smile. just to prove him right about you. you're a good person, you swear - if only for this one person, right now.

[waynescreens]

WAYNE CHAPTERS 1/3

[avelera]

OFMD Season 2 Prediction: The Redemption of Blackbeard

Ok ok, so, another thought around Stede's "glow up" at the end of Season 1 (I mean, just look at his hair, his posture, the romantic puffy shirt, the single hand raised like a beacon to hail his crew, the everything wow) but with Stede now looking so amazing and Ed being so fucking horrible at the very end, I think we're going to get a reversal of the S1 theme of "Why the heck does Blackbeard like this loser Stede?" turning into "Why the heck does Stede like this monster Blackbeard?"

(cut for length because of who I am as a long-winded person)

Quick context, but one thing I saw across my many years as a fanfic writer over many fandoms was lot of kvetching over whether one person in the ship deserved the other person. You write a fic where one of them supports the other and get the inevitable troll being like "OK but why does this person deserve this perfect angel of a character," or whatever. It's an irritating comment when used to ship-police people but there is an interesting kernel of truth in it for writers, because too often romances (especially generic male-gaze het romances) can ignore whether or not we have some evidence that the protagonist is actually worthy of this beautiful, incredible love interest's affections. (By the way, with Bagginshield I saw trolls pestering people about both characters not being good enough for the other so eh, I don't take the trolls too seriously.)

But the thing is, in "Our Flag Means Death" Stede is.... kinda pathetic in the first season. I mean, it's real, legitimate question that everyone is asking, especially Izzy Hands, of why the fuck the legendary pirate Blackbeard is giving this guy Stede the time of day, let alone swooning over him.

I mean, Blackbeard as a love interest is legitimately amazing. He's the most remarkable sailor a hard-ass like Izzy has ever met, his name strikes so much fear that he doesn't need to fire a shot. But he's also sensitive and vulnerable and wonderful about Stede's hobbies. He's A+ red silk boyfriend material, caring about Stede, being patient with him, and generally looking at Stede like he hangs the moon. It's wonderful stuff.

Now, we as the audience see firsthand how Ed and Stede complete and fulfill each other in intimate moments that few other characters see but let's be honest... Stede still kind of sucks. He's still a deadbeat dad, he's often self-absorbed and oblivious to what other people want (like when he barges into his wife's new life, or even just when he tries repeatedly to force his crew into his vision of a healthy lifestyle, regardless of what they want). There is a legitimate question to be asked if Stede is worthy of Ed. And by the end of Season 1 we have the answer, he's glowed up. Stede's a romantic hero now, he's dealt with his bullshit and he's become worthy of Blackbeard's affection as a self-actualized adult ready to be his full, authentic self with Ed.

Ok that's great and all, like that's a pretty standard emotional arc, especially in a romance, but what does that mean for Season 2?

Well, in Season 2, I think we're going to get the formula reversed. Stede is all windswept and handsome and self-actualized, he settled his family drama, he's realized who he is and who he loves and all his good qualities like caring for his crew are going to stop being silly unwanted eccentricities and really make him the "better" partner of the two, I mean goddamn he almost looks angelic in the last shot, it's the promise of the Gentleman Pirate that Blackbeard was swooning over in the first place.

But Ed? Ed has fallen into shadow. He's got messy eyeliner and he kills without blinking, tortures without remorse, and has clearly descended into a pit of self-loathing. He's a fucking mess. We might even have moments where we wonder if he's redeemable (IMO, Lucius is alive but that's a pretty serious line that Ed crossed by trying to kill a member of Stede's beloved crew).

As fanfic readers/romance watchers, that rather valid question of "Does Character A even deserve Character B?" is going to be deliciously flipped. Does Ed deserve someone as wonderful and caring as Stede? And my deepest, dearest hope is that we will get the same luxurious, intimate journey from the darkest pits of Ed's worst self to show how he's going to become worthy of the person Stede has become.

[maarriiii]

Cute

A/N: Do I love this? No, not really. Do I like it enough that I want to upload it? Yeah. Am I uploading this cause I haven’t been uploading fics here? Absolutely. Hope you like it 💕💕

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x female!reader

Warnings: None

my masterlist :))

~~

“If you're going to ask me what I think you're going to ask," y/n paused, giving her a friend moment to digest her apparent annoyance. "then I swear to God, Stiles, I would hit you with this book.”

Stiles' brown eyes went wide open at her hostility, and the fact he was already caught when he just sat down.

“What? No.” He prolonged each syllables dramatically. “I'm just here to, uh, see my—to see you. Yeah, that's it. Nothing else. Not wanting to ask you anything at all. Nope.”

y/n shook her head. “God, you say one thing...”

She was only graced with a few seconds of silence before Stiles spoke again. “But, just out of curiosity—”

y/n sighed, knowing where he was going.

“—between me and Isaac, who's the cuter one?”

She didn't believe this whole deal came from the fact that she called him cute instead of a famous celebrity during a movie night at her house with the rest of her friends. Scott had been telling her that Stiles wouldn't shut up about being called cute by the girl who always rejected guys at school whenever they asked her out. Besides Lydia, y/n was the most sought out ever since she moved to Beacon Hills freshman year. Her mysterious aura seemed to entranced everyone that looks her way, that includes Stiles.

y/n thought it was cute how thrilled he was hearing the compliment. y/n pride herself by being blunt and truthful and she wasn't lying when she said Stiles was cute, but he was slowly pushing her buttons with all the questions he asked, comparing him to other guys that are considered good looking to someone's eyes.

“I'm not going to answer that question.”

“Why not?!” He asked, sounding so offended.

y/n turned to face him. “Because you're both my friend.”

“You didn't have any problem when Lydia asked you who's cuter between me and Scott.”

“Well, that was before you started asking me this question every goddamn time, Stiles,” y/n snapped.

“Just this once.” Stiles took her hands and hold it to his chest. “I know how much you prefer Isaac. But, I just want to wipe the smile off of that scarf wearing ass when I told him you choose me over him.”

y/n shook her head, wondering what she did in a past life to deserve this—she was being dramatic over this, sue her. She fully faced her friend, staring right into his hopeful brown eyes with the most serious expression she can mustered. From this distance, y/n could see the tiny little moles scattered on the side of his face—which she might've stare at for a split seconds.

“Stiles,” she began, her voice gentle but still a hint of annoyance. “you are by far the most cutest and good looking person I've ever met. Everyone is beneath you and that includes Isaac Lahey. Happy now, Stilinski?”

He beamed. “You're the best. You are my favorite person in the world. Scott is now my second best friend. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, what—”

Without any warning, which was natural for him, Stiles kissed her cheek. It took y/n a moment to let the action sink in. It felt like her brain was short-circuiting and close to exploding. Stiles watched her expression with wide eyes, wondering whether he should runaway at that very second.

“Did you just—” she was cut off before she could finish her sentence.

“Do you want to go out with me?” He half yelled, slightly panicking.

What in the world is going on, y/n thought. What alternate universe is this and how did she arrive.

“Like on a date?” Her heart did flips at the last word. “The two of us, together?”

“As far as I can remember that is what a date entails, yes.”

When the silence became deafening and y/n kept blinking like she didn’t know what year it was, Stiles thought he was gonna hear the dreaded ‘no’, but life always keeps you surprised.

“Look you don’t have—”

“Yes, I’d love to go out with you,” y/n affirmed, a small smile on her lips.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re saying this out of pity?”

She rolled her eyes, and pressed her lips on his cheek. “No, I’m not kidding. Saturday, 8:30. Don’t be late, Stilinski.”

Before he could say anything, y/n was already standing up and walking away. She left him there, mouth wide open and confused out of his mind. When he finally snap out of it, Stiles chased his soon-to-be date and mentally preparing the best date he will ever pulled off.

[jdeanmorgan]

#oh shit #there’s only one bed

WAYNE (2019) - 1.03 ‘The Goddamned Beacon of Truth’