#they really had me there that they had planted threads to follow and it led to being impaled

[pamwritessometimes]

Roots in my dreamland

Dean Winchester x Forest Spirit!Reader

Summary: Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

Loosely based ivy by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: unprotected SMUT (bring protection with yourself, yes, even to a forest), P in V, mentions of being naked in the snow, fingering, crack ending, grammar mistakes galore.

The wind howled through the towering trees, winter’s chill clinging to the air as Dean wandered deeper and deeper into the forest. He wasn’t sure why he kept on going on this path. There were no signs of danger, no clear trail to follow, yet something kept dragging him in. It felt ancient here, in this part of the forest, like time itself was buried in these moss-covered grounds.

The reports of strange occurrences in the area had led him here in the first place: people disappearing, then reappearing with no memory of where they’d been. Dean had taken it as another case, another monster to hunt… but what he found instead was something he didn’t understand, and certainly something he couldn’t really fight.

He had found her.

His steps slowed as he reached the edge of a small clearing. The pale light of the crescent moon covered everything in a soft, silvery glow, casting shadows on the ice frozen ground. And there she was, standing just beyond the oak trees, her figure nearly blending into the darkness of the brusque, winter night.

She looked at him as if she’d been waiting.

She always did.

Dean didn’t know her name. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what she was. Her skin glimmered, like the moonlight itself was part of her, and her eyes – deep and dark, just like the forest itself – held some sort of timelessness in them. Every time he saw her, he felt like something inside him was growing, something he couldn’t quite control.

“Why do you keep showing up?” he asked, his voice rough, soaked in frustration. “Every time I get close to leaving this place behind, I—” He broke off, his mind going momentarily frigid in the air. “I come back.”

Her gaze softened ever so slightly as she took a cautious step toward him with her bare feet leaving no mark in the snow. She was now close enough that he could feel the soft glow of her skin radiating off her eternal warmness and the unusual flowers threaded in her locks. “Maybe it’s because you belong here more than you think.”

Dean’s chest tightened. Belong? He didn’t belong anywhere, least of all here in this strange, enchanted place. But he couldn’t deny that every time he saw her, a part of him felt like it was coming home.

“You need to let me go” he whispered, though his feet stayed rooted to their spot.

Her gaze softened, and for a moment, she looked almost sad. “You can’t fight what’s already growing inside you.” she said quietly. Her hand lifted, brushing gently against his cheek. The warmth of her touch like fire beneath his skin.

Dean stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. “What is this?” he rasped with eyes wide, his hand instinctively catching hers, holding it against his face. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Why can’t I…?”

She smiled softly, but there was an edge of sorrow in her eyes. “You’ve planted your roots here” she whispered. “And so have I.”

He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to believe that he was tied to this place — to her — but the truth of her words cut deeper than any blade. And he had his fair share of experience with those. Every time he tried to walk away, she pulled him back, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t seem to break free.

“I– I can’t stay here. This…” He gestured to the forest around them, then to her. “This isn’t me.”

“I know.” she said simply. But she didn’t move away. She stood there, her eyes searching his, like she was waiting for him to make a choice he didn’t know how to make. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with thoughts of all the things he was supposed to be doing, all the people he was supposed to be saving. He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t keep coming back. And yet…

“I don’t want to leave..” he admitted, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. His hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her skin. “I can’t.”

She leaned into him then, her body soft and warm against his. Her fingers traced the line of his clean-shaven jaw. “Then don’t” she whispered, her breath hot against his neck. He groaned, the weight of everything crashing over him at once. His responsibilities, the danger, the distance between their worlds (whatever her world was in the first place), none of it mattered right now. The only thing that mattered was her.

“I’m already in too deep” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “You’re in my head, in my damn dreams. I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop coming back right here. To you. I can’t keep my distance from you.”

“I know” she said, her lips ghosting over his. “I feel it too.”

Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his mouth was on hers, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her closer. The kiss was raw, desperate, like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground. Her body pressed against his, soft and warm and so right, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t care about the consequences. Only the ethereal feeling of her silky skin against the palm of his hand and the velvet of her lips. She kissed him back with the same intensity, her hands tangling in his hair as they stumbled back, their bodies melding together. He could feel the heat rising between them, the fire building in his chest as he lost himself in her…completely, utterly, involuntarily lost. 

They sank to the icy forest floor, the snowy moss cool beneath them as they tumbled into each other’s arms. Though, somehow, Dean didn’t feel cold. He didn’t feel his skin being affected by winter’s brusque. Her hands trailed patterns over him, her touch so incredibly soft, almost like a ghost, but it magically made his body immune to the weather. He responded with equal vehemence, his lips trailing down her neck, tasting the woodsy warmth of her skin.

“Dean” she whispered, her voice trembling with need, but there was something else there too, something fragile, like she was holding back. “You need to–”

“No” he cut her off, his voice rough. “I don’t want to think about it. Not now.”

She hesitated, her breath hitching as his hands moved lower, pulling her closer. “But you’ll have to leave.”

Dean’s movements stilled, her words slicing through his hazy state of desire. She was right. He would have to leave. This, whatever the hell this was, couldn’t last. He didn’t belong in her world, and she didn’t belong in his.

But for now, he didn’t care.

“For tonight” he murmured, his lips brushing over hers, “Just– please.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, and after a long moment, she nodded as a sign of her silent agreement. They moved together again, slower this time, like they were savoring every moment, every touch, every warm glow of her hand on his skin. The world outside the forest faded away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped in the soft gleam of moonlight, the ancient trees standing tall silent around them.

Dean kissed her lips slowly, his mind completely fogged by need. He didn’t know her, didn’t understand exactly what she was, but none of that mattered now. Not in this moment. Not when every part of him was drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain, couldn’t fight. Just for tonight, he let himself get lost in her. His hands found their way to her soft, leaf-woven dress, fingers trailing along the strange fabric that did a sinfully poor job at hiding her curves. As he slid his hands down her waist, her lips parted in a heavenly moan, a testament of her sharing the same need as him. His fingers traced slow and purposeful patterns along her upper thigh, teasing her skin beneath the hem of her skirt (or whatever magical leaf-dress she was wearing). Their breath met halfway as she arched into him, her hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed down her neck, tasting the warmth of her otherworldly pulse beneath his lips. 

He leaned back slightly, looking into her eyes, feeling the gravity of the moment settle around the pair. “I want you” he murmured. He really did. He had no idea how, why or who, to be frank, but he craved her.

Her lashes fluttered as she struggled to look into his emerald green orbs. It was just like the forest.  “Then take me” she whispered back.

With a slow movement, he pressed her back against the soft, icy moss. The world around them slowly faded as he kissed her again. Deeper this time… pouring all his desire into the action, savoring the taste of her lips, and the way her celestial presence made him feel. His hands explored her body, making it his goal to commit every little line to memory. He wanted to remember this. Her hands slid under his shirt, warm fingers dancing over his skin, fueling the fire in him. He could feel her heat radiating against him and he responded to that by deepening the kiss, wanting to wipe everything out of his memory, except for this.

His fingers were still under her dress, exploring the soft skin of her thighs, inching closer to her honey-soaked pussy. As he finally met her heat, she gasped, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, her body arching against him as an encouragement for him to continue. 

Dean met her gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation, but he saw none. He slowly slid his fingers deeper, feeling her sweet cunt envelop him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a low moan escaped her lips as he began to move his middle finger in and out. He kept his gaze locked on hers as he couldn’t help but murmur a breathless “You're incredible. So incredibly beautiful. So wet for me already.”

With each thrust of his fingers, he felt her walls clench around him, and eventually he found a rhythm that matched the heartbeat of the forest around them. 

“Dean” she moaned as her nails dug into his shoulders. “I need to feel all of you.”

Amidst hearing that, he captured her lips again, pouring every drop of his need into the kiss. 

He couldn’t wait any longer either. His own need had reached a fever pitch. His fingers slowly slipped out of her core, which earned a whine from her parted lips. He kissed her hard, his tongue sliding against hers as his fingers worked at the button of his jeans, his breath coming in shallow gasps. She was more than happy to help him, her hands quick and eager as she pushed his jeans down over his hips, his painfully hard length springing free from its confinements. He could feel the heat of her body, the way she pulled him closer, her legs wrapping around his waist, not a single thing between them now.

Dean’s hand slid up her thigh, guiding himself to her pussy, and he hesitated for a brief second, meeting her gaze again. Again, there was no doubt in her eyes, only a quiet plea for him to close the distance between them finally. He slid the tip of his cock up and down her sloppy heat a few times before he finally began to ease himself in. He pushed into her slowly, inch by incredible inch, savoring the feel of her cunt hugging him so snug. The soft gasp that escaped her lips as he filled her  was enough to make his cock twitch inside of her. She was tight, and oh, so warm, and every inch of him ached with the need to move, but he forced himself to go slow, to feel every moment, every convulsion of her pussy.

Her hands gripped his back, nails biting into his skin as her hips rose to meet him, her body urging him deeper and deeper – despite his effort to stay calm just for a moment. The feeling of her wrapped around him was almost too much and not enough at the same time. He groaned, his head falling against her shoulder as he pulled out almost all the way before thrusting into her once more, harder this time, losing himself in the way she moved beneath him.

She moaned his name, the sound sent a shiver down his spine. Dean’s pace quickened, his hips moving in time with hers, each thrust deeper, harder, rougher. 

Her fingers tangled in his hair, her lips finding his again as they moved together, the rhythm growing faster, more urgent. Every sound she made, every arch of her back, every gasp and moan spurred him on, driving him closer to the edge.

Dean’s hand slipped between them, finding her clit, and the moment he touched her there, she cried out, her body trembling underneath him as her release hit her, hard and fast.

“Dean, oh my— i’m going to—” and with that, her walls clenched around him, gushing all over his length. Threatening to slip out of her, because of the force of her release, he thrusted himself deeper. And then, he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t—” and with a low groan, he followed her over the edge, his muscles tensing as his hot, white seed filled her, his hips bucking erratically as he tried to make his orgasm last as long as it is possible. 

For a long-long moment, neither of them dared to mov. Their bodies tangled together, the only sound is their ragged breathing as they came down from their highs. Dean’s forehead rested against hers, their lips brushing in soft, lazy kisses as they lay there, utterly spent.

They lay together in the quiet of the clearing, the warmth of their bodies cutting through the chilly air. Dean stared up at the sky, the stars barely visible through the branches overhead. His heart was still racing, his mind already starting to spin with what would come next. He still had no idea who she was. He still didn’t know if she was the one behind all those strange happenings around the area. 

Then reality crept back in.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean blinked, once, twice, his body stiffening. The warmth that had enveloped him was gone, replaced by the biting cold of the winter air. He lifted his head, eyes squinting in confusion as his surroundings snapped back into focus. The enchanted glow, the surreal energy of the forest… all gone. Just the regular, old clearing. And there, standing at the edge of it, was Sam, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind.

“Dude” Sam started, his voice incredulous, “why the hell are you naked? It’s the middle of winter.”

Dean frowned, slowly realizing his current state. He glanced down at himself, sure enough, he was sprawled out on the cold, snowy moss, wearing nothing but his birthday suit. The warmth of her body and everything that had felt so real was now a distant memory. And yet… he swore it had happened.

“I…” Dean sat up, quickly gathering his clothes from the ground and putting them on, trying to come up with some kind of explanation that didn’t make him sound like a lunatic. “I was, uh… investigating.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Investigating? Naked? In the freezing cold?”

Dean let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s— It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, well, make it quick, because I’ve been looking for you for an hour, man” Sam grumbled. “What happened? You were supposed to check out the weird stuff going on, not have some naked winter party.”

Dean’s gaze darted around the clearing. She was nowhere to be found, no sign of her leaf-woven dress, her touch, not even a trace of her pinewood scent. It was like she had never been there. The forest felt… ordinary now. The magic, the connection… they all seemed to have vanished with her.

“I’m not sure” Dean admitted, standing up and brushing the snow off his legs, the chill sinking into his bones now that reality was firmly back in place. “There was this… girl. I think.” He paused, frowning. “Maybe?”

“Girl?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up even higher.

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing her for a while now… She was—” Dean gestured vaguely, trying to put words to what had just happened, but it felt harder and harder to grasp the details. “She was real, I think. Or… maybe she wasn’t. She could’ve been some kind of forest spirit. Or maybe I hit my head?” He shrugged, genuinely at a loss. “I don’t know, man.”

Sam shook his head, clearly unimpressed. “So you’re saying you’ve been seeing a girl, possibly not real, and decided to strip naked in the middle of the forest when you saw her once more?”

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, his frown deepening. “Okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.”

“It is weird, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, motioning around them. “Do you see anyone else here? Anyone at all?”

Dean looked around the clearing again, trying to find any trace of her. There was nothing, just the trees, the snow, and the silent forest. No footprints, no clothes, no evidence that anyone other than him had been there at all. And yet, he could still feel her, the way her body had moved against his, the way her voice had whispered his name in the quiet of the night.

“I swear, it was real” Dean muttered, more to himself than to Sam. “I felt it.”

Sam sighed, getting Dean’s jacket from the ground and tossing it to him. “Whatever you felt, we need to get out of here before you freeze to death. We’ll figure it out later.”

Dean caught the jacket, wrapping it around himself with a huff. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, or if anything had happened at all, but there was still an ache in his chest, a feeling like he’d left something behind in that clearing. Or maybe it had all been in his head. Maybe the forest had cast some kind of spell on him, drawing him into some half-dream state where reality and fantasy blurred together. He wasn’t sure anymore. Was he— was he one of those victims he read about? But why does he remember it then? 

As he followed Sam out of the clearing, Dean glanced back one last time. The trees stood tall and silent, like keeping the secret of the girl’s presence. There was no sign of her. No shimmering figure stepping from the shadows, no soft voice calling him back.

But for just a second, he thought he saw something. — a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a faint, glowing shimmer in the air.

He shook his head. Maybe he was imagining it. Or maybe… just maybe… she'd been real after all.

Sam glanced over at him, frowning. “Dean, you okay? You look… weird.”

Dean smirked, pulling the jacket tighter around him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wondering if I’m gonna need therapy after this.”

Sam groaned. “Probably. Come on, let’s get you some dry clothes before you start hallucinating snow fairy porn again.”

Dean chuckled, though his mind lingered on the thought. Snow fairies, huh? He wouldn’t put it past the universe.

But as he walked away, he couldn’t help but wonder — had it been real? Or had it just been a fever dream? He’d never know for sure. But either way… he wasn’t complaining.

"Next time, though" he muttered under his breath, "I’m bringing a blanket."

Don’t even get me started. The crack fic muse made me do it. Not that I mind.🤭

Let me know what you think.

And have a nice day!🤍

[connecting-the-stars]

Crosshair and CX-2

Crosshair’s motivation and display of fear this season isn’t not lining up for me.

Yes, his looming guilt from season one and two have him throwing himself in the line of fire a lot. He feels he doesn’t deserve redemption.

Yes. He was tortured, and put through the CX program which failed but still left him at the mercy of Tantiss and Hemlock.

But basically every episode that has CX-2 coming after Omega and the batch, Crosshair is throwing himself into the path of convergence every time. Extraction and Calvary has Arrived (two times in each), cross is doing everything in his power to keep them separated. Like he knows something that no one else does.

Crosshair’s PTSD can absolutely be correlated to his torture, but in addition what if it’s also connected to losing his brother to the empire’s brainwashing. Hemlock and his terrible methods taking advantage of the smartest and one of the most capable soldiers, his brother who can think his way out of anything who he knows never supported the corruption of the authorities above them, be turned into someone he doesn’t recognize. That fear growing to expand the others. If tech can be reprogrammed, just because Crosshair himself was in the clear doesn’t mean his other brothers are not. We focus on the shot of the four evil batch, and crosshair doesn’t waste any time demanding the others retreat before him. He’s constantly placing himself as a barrier between CX-2 specifically, like we aren’t even looking at Hemlock here.

The big bad scientist that created these guys, that executed Crosshair’s torture for information. But the frame focuses in on CX-2 once again, his hand starts shaking worse and then cuts to Cross immediately demanding that the others retreat. Yes. He’s trying to save his brothers like he knows he failed in the past, but this is just too pointed. Especially with their waterfall fight, crosshair really took that beating, nearly drowning. When they crash down the first waterfall it SO feels like crosshair is just operating on the defensive. Like the knowledge that CX-2 is away from the batch, he’s not fighting as aggressively, the offense is over with.

Dude, I know I joined late in the game. The first episode I was able to watch live for season 3 was Juggernaut. I had finally caught up from s1-2 in like lil over a week. But I saw people spotlighting the moment in extraction where CX-2 is drowning crosshair and cross stops hitting his arm. Instead he grabs it, it like one does when they tap out in sports and wrestling. Literally had my lil brain running in circles fully sold on the idea that cross KNOWS who CX-2 is.

Side note: I am running on like 4? 3 hours of sleep from this morning. But I think i would enjoyed the concept of introducing this dark mirror of the bad batch at the start of the season and the bad discover that they are clones which were reprogrammed on Tantiss. Having the season revolving around saving these guys despite how far gone they appear. Of recruiting some of them to help free Tantiss prisoners. And working with Rex would just naturally be apart of it. Of emphasizing the theme of not giving up on your family, of listening to Omega’s faith in her brothers and in others

[horsesarecreatures]

Hey, uhm, about that „horse riding is harmful – but they need exercise!“ thread: what is never talked about in these discussions (this is my impression) is how priviliged it is that we can even abstain from using horses for transportation and farming.

And while our lifes have become much more comfortable since machines have replaced horses in these fields, I would argue that this shift has been very bad for nature as a whole. Even if someone does not believe in climate change, they could still see how it was bad that we built (and are building) asphalt streets and railroad tracks through wildlife habitats. And big machinery driving over soil compresses the earth unnecessarily, which makes it more difficult for plants to regrow. This would not be a problem if we still used horses.

I’m also wondering what people who are against horse owning would say to people who live in circumstances where they are still dependent on their animals. People who maybe live somewhere were the infrastructure needed in order to be able to use fossil fueled vehicles is not yet present. Or people who are just poor. Should they also stop riding and driving horses?

All of that being said, let’s imagine the consequences of gradually stopping all horse ownership. All horses currently living with humans as pets will stay with their owners and be cared for until they die, procreation will be prevented. (The alternative would of course be to release them into the wild, but deciding on WHERE to do so is very difficult and let’s just not do that in this scenario, as to not disturb already established ecosystems). Horse breeds which have been living with humans for the past thousands of years will go extinct. All the knowledge about how to feed horses, about horse behaviour and how to interact with them and about how to safely train them to be driven and ridden in a sustainable way will only exist in books within a hundred years. We are talking about skills that, at the end of the day, are more efficiently learned if there are teachers whom actually are practicing the craft. Humanity as a whole lives a bit more removed from nature – although, that is just how I see it.

I hope it’s okay for me to unload my thoughts on this onto you – I’m too shy to write under the post directly, but I really want to get this out of my head.

I live in germany by the way and I own a little pony mare. I don’t actually know her breed, it must have not been documented when she was born. She probably is a german riding pony with a healthy dose of arabian blood in her. I’ve riden and worked with horses for 14 years now and owned my mare for 5. I bought her when she was 11 years old and noone had really cared for her for two years. She spend that time on a pasture with other horses and was slightly malnourished and apathetic then. These days her fur is sparkling and her muscles have developed nicely and she expresses more happiness overall.

Hey, I don't know about the original poster as I don't follow them, but @acti-veg actually addresses your first point quite frequently. There are many people who cannot afford to not eat meat, abstain from medications that have been tested on animals, use horses for farming or transportation, etc. But the definition of veganism is, "a way of living which seeks to exclude, as far as is possible and practicable, all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose.” If a person cannot avoid some form of animal exploitation because of their health or inability to make an alternative living, this does not preclude them from being a vegan as long as they do their best to limit their reliance on animals in other areas.

I agree that industrialization has led to many advancements in society at the detriment of nature and biodiversity. But I would also point out that if people switched back to horses today, at our current population, that would also not be sustainable. There is not enough land to keep them properly without adding more to deforestation, and plowing with horses is less precise and worse for the soil than some up and coming alternatives, like laser weeding and using robotic seed planting, which can eliminate the need to plowing entirely.

You are right that if people stopped breeding horses many breeds would go extinct and knowledge in how to care for them would be lost. This is a downside that has to be balanced against the upsides, like no more halter horse monstrosities, no more horses being dumped & shipped to slaughter, and the potential for farmland to be re-wilded which would increase biodiversity.

It's totally ok to share your thoughts here, and your pony sounds super cute!

[richincolor]

Nature and Young Adult Lit

This may be a strange slightly rambling post, but one thing led to another. As I bicycle to work each day, there are several oak trees to pass which means that lately there are many, many acorns to dodge. Recently on Threads, author Jen Ferguson [Those Pink Mountain Nights] mentioned having a load of acorns raining down on the roof. This got me thinking about the chapter in Braiding Sweetgrass when the author's grandfather gathers up pecans during a year with an extraordinarily large crop. That story is a good one and may be found here. From there I leapt to thinking about nature and young adult lit because that's what my brain does.

Obviously, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teaching of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer and Monique Gray Smith was the first young adult book that came to mind. It's a beautiful memoir with a look at Indigenous science and the natural world. The illustrations by Nicole Neidhardt are fantastic and make it an excellent book to pour over. See our review here.

This led me to thinking about Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley. In it, the main character has learned about nature through Indigenous teachings, but also through schooling and texts. There were parallels between Kimmerer's lived experience and the fictional account of Daunis. You can learn more about the book in our Group Discussion.

Highly Suspicious and Unfairly Cute by Talia Hibbert is a book that that involves the outdoors and romance. We had a Group Discussion for this one too. In that discussion, Jessica mentioned Alexis Nicole Nelson, also known as The Black Forager. Looking at the acorns around me I wondered if she had done a video about them and yup, that is a thing she's collected and talked about. I don't know if she will be writing a book for young adults anytime soon, but for now, there is an incredible amount of video content on Tiktok, Instagram, and YouTube including the relatively new Crash Course Botany class.

Reflecting on nature, there is an awful lot of things that can go wrong so there are also quite a few dystopian and sci-fi books that are concerned with the environment, disasters, and climate change.

The Parable of the Sower: A Graphic Novel Adaptation is based on Octavia E. Butler’s novel of the same name and is by Damian Duffy and John Jennings. The story follows a young girl as she navigates a world that is in severe distress. She is not only trying to survive, but she is contemplating faith and what it means to her and what it could look like for others.

The Ones We're Meant to Find by Joan He is another survival type of story in the midst of natural disasters due to climate change. The story revolves around two sisters.

Want by Cindy Pon really digs into the economic disparities in relation to climate change and environmental issues. It's set in Taipei not too far in the future. You can read more about this awesome book in our Group Discussion.

Orleans by Sherrie L. Smith is an older title, but also delves into some of these issues of the environment and economic disparities. Here is our review.

Are there other books about nature and the environment that you think we've missed or should watch for in the future?

[kimothyroll]

Day 1

Day Total: +1 Theoretical & +1 Practical

1:  The Magician

Of course, eager to impress, and be accepted, as always,  the first thing I did following our welcome meeting, was to attempt master a new spell. The lesson guidance was just to prepare something small to showcase what we knew prior to coming and to highlight what strengths we might have.

After diligent practice and unwavering determination, I successfully mastered the elusive and powerful "Aetherial Chronomancy." This intricate spell allows me to manipulate the threads of time and glimpse into the past or future, offering a profound understanding of the temporal tapestry.

Trust me to try something ridiculously complex as my first task of the semester! I know I've been working on this spell but it's still really advanced! This could have gone really wrong and set a tone for the rest of my time there.

+2 Theoretical

Four of cups

Attempting to master Aetherial Chronomancy got me thinking about the consequences of magic. What if I had gotten myself, or worse, someone else, lost in time. Though perhaps if Oberon got lost for a period that wouldn't have been too bad!! I'm not sure yet what I think about that boy. He was really outspoken the whole class. Kinda reminds me of me a bit, and that's not necessarily a good thing.

I know this time it was ok, but I do need to be more cautious. Whilst I was successful this time, my pondering led me to reflect on the time where I didn't quite get it right. Back in Tranmere, following the passing of beloved resident, Elowen Runescape- My grandma- I decided, in all my youthful naiveite, that, despite not being know for the same green thumb and magical touch that Grandma brought to any and all nature, I would attempt to carry on her legacy by enhancing the community garden that she so lovingly cared for right until the end.

Fuelled by youthful exuberance and a touch of magical impulsiveness, my experiments took an unexpected turn. Instead of merely enhancing the garden, the magic imbued the plants with a heightened form of sentience. The once orderly rows of flowers and herbs gained a mischievous consciousness, resulting in a garden that seemed to have a mind of its own.

I feel so bad still! But I know Grandma would have found my…results…hilarious. I certainly gave her eyes a workout whilst she was alive! At least the residents love it. The garden, now playfully mischievous, has become a local legend, with stories circulating about flowers rearranging themselves and herbs seemingly responding to whispered secrets.

+1 Theoretical

Page of Swords

Our next lesson of the day is combat training. I find it interesting that there is such a focus on combat. What is it that they are expecting to happen? I don't mind because it's all skills to add to my repertoire but, right now at least, I don't find the thought of it as interesting as learning new magic (thought I suppose, if I think about it, that probably stems from a fear of failure- I can't stand the thought of losing a duel). 

Today were are analysing combat strategies, of course my mind wanders. I think I've come up with (in my opinion) an ingenious tactic. I named it "Temporal Mirage". Leveraging my mastery of Aetherial Chronomancy,  this tactic involves utilising the threads to time to create illusory duplicates strategically placed across the battlefield. The duplicates mimic my movements with precision, disorienting and confusing opponents. I really want to try this out!

+1 Practical

Justice

The second I had a chance to explore, I did.  I came across a "hidden" chamber- honestly, I suspect that nothing happens by accident. I would not be surprised if the whole court is setup like a giant escape room with puzzle and secrets everywhere you turn. Anyway, I digress.

I the chamber I discovered a potent artifact that I suspected could greatly enhance my magical abilities. However,  further investigation revealed the artifact to also be a guardian preserving the magical balance of the school. Faced with a moral dilemma, I grappled with the choice of personal gain versus upholding the magical sanctity of The Midnight Court. I know that I will struggle to fit in, and wielding such power could give me an edge, but ultimately, I would never take any actions to upset the balance, particularly this early on in the year.

-1 Theoretical

Five of Wands

The final lesson of the day started off as an introduction to the upcoming terms learning, we were put into groups and given the task of considering what "type" of magic would best solve the problem our groups were given.

Unfortunately Oberon was assigned as one of my group members. Another girl, Celestia, was in my group along with a few others. That girl is a godsend and it feels like fate that we were put together.

We started off by considering how best to approach the task with everyone stating their specialisms. This soon descended into a debate on the merits of certain types of magic over others. Honestly, I don't think any are superior and don't really have a specialism yet, but everyone was asking me my opinion and trying to get me to answer. It was so overwhelming, I began to question whether I was wrong for not mastering one "type" over another. Am I not actually as good as I think?

Oberon was making it so much worse with his certainty. Bur Celestia, the absolute star, noticed how overwhelmed I was and diverted the group's attention away from me and back onto task, whilst simultaneously ensuring I was ok. I really hope we can be friends. I need someone like that in my corner.

-1 Theoretical

[batwhimpix]

An Interview with Bishounen Manga Pioneer Mizuno Hideko

Kaze to Ki no Uta creator and Year 24 artist Takemiya Keiko interviews early shoujo manga pioneer Mizuno Hideko.

The Bishounen as the Ultimate Embodiment of Young Women’s Yearning

Music manga Fire! was the first manga serialized in a women’s magazine to center on a male protagonist. I sat down with the creator of that work, Mizuno Hideko-sensei, to chat about the circumstances around its serialization and the state of shoujo manga in 1969 when the series began its run.

The Routes of the Beautiful, Perverse Male Figure Lie in the Mad King?!

---First, Mizuno-sensei, can you talk a little bit about what exactly led you to create stories about bishounen?

Mizuno: The image of the long-haired, beautiful young man has existed as a motif since the statues of ancient Greece. Since I was very young, I felt this, sort of, longing? I guess. Toward this kind of beautiful young man you just didn’t see in Japan. My experience with bishounen was limited to what I happened to come across, but the examples I did see were really beautiful to me. I felt from when I was young that I wanted to create a story about this kind of man.

---Around when would you say the seeds of that longing were planted in you?

Mizuno: The first time I came across this aesthetic was probably when I was in middle school. At that time picture encyclopedias and photobooks from overseas weren’t really a thing, but if I stuck my nose in the right places I could generally find what I was looking for. (laughs) While I was caught up in that kind of research, I happened across an article about Ludwig [TN: Ludwig II of Bavaria] in a make-up pamphlet.

---That “They called him the Mad King…” thing from Shiseido’s Hanatsubaki, right?

Mizuno: Yes, that’s right. It was really small, but it was in this column where they would introduce beautiful things…Dangerously beautiful, with an inclination toward the perverse. Shunning the day, embracing the night, a lover of roses and swans and the moon… (laughs)

---Wow, the height of romanticism.

Mizuno: Isn’t it, though? I’ve loved music since I was a kid, and I used to listen to Horiuchi Keizou’s radio program, The Fountain of Music [Ongaku no Izumi], all the time. It was listening to that program where I first learned that Wagner had composed a four-part epic music drama called Der Ring des Nibelungen, the one that includes Götterdämmerung. Following that, I eventually also learned that Ludwig had been a huge fan and devoted patron of Wagner. So I’ve had an interest in those two figures for a long time. When I was asked if I would be interested in drawing a manga about them, it was like all these different threads had come together.

---Ohh, so that’s how “Ludwig II” was born. When I think of Ludwig, I picture how he always had a gaggle of beautiful men displayed around him. In the first volume of the manga, you explored the forbidden master-servant romance between him and his servant Paul, right?

Mizuno: That was a very fleeting thing, a friendship that grew too intimate. Even after Ludwig became an adult, there are accounts that say he would keep his favorite stable boys close by his side. He would also throw elaborate banquets for his favorite boys on the small island within his garden pond where he grew tens of thousands of roses. As that suggests, he had a tendency to focus only on satisfying his own perverse interests, to the exclusion of all else. I wanted to explore why he became that way, but unfortunately the magazine the series ran in went under. I guess to sum up what I’m trying to say, I think my personal image of this kind of beautiful, perverse male figure came largely from Ludwig II. There are a ton of stories about young and beautiful kings from that part of the world, but he was the real deal.

Out with the Old Order, In with the New

---I’d like to ask you a little bit about Fire! It was pretty unheard of at that time for a shoujo manga to have a male protagonist, wasn’t it? You could even call it unthinkable.

Mizuno: I would agree with that. But at the same time, there was a whole world you couldn’t portray if the character wasn’t a man. From the start, I was always more into things like westerns and Tarzan than more traditionally “girly” things. But because I got snapped up by a girls’ magazine like Shoujo Club, begrudgingly I had no choice but to draw girls. (laughs) When we started getting into the 1960s, the rock music era had started, and the powerful messages of the youth were starting to make waves. It was this attitude that the current system needs to change, combined with this idea that we should return to nature, that it’s okay to embrace your nude body, that it’s okay to be “naked” [TN: Mizuno uses the English word here], basically what you would call Hippie culture. On top of that, aspects of Eastern culture were making their way across the ocean, and white people’s ways of thinking were rapidly beginning to change. I think it was an era worthy of commemorating. A lot of it goes back to the Beatles, though.

---The Beatles’ debut record came out in 1962, right?

Mizuno: There were others like Presley before them, but they were among the first to use rock music in order to convey a deeper message. With the broadening awareness of what rock music could be, something radical and complex called progressive rock was also born. I was in my late twenties at that time, but that sound really resonated with me. And among the bandmates, there were a lot of really hot young men. Up until that point it was typical for men even outside of Japan to have their hair cut really short, but with the rock revolution the number of long-haired men increased tenfold. Long hair carried with it the meaning of keeping things as close to nature as possible, as well as expressing the necessity of breaking down the artificial barriers put in place by past generations. As for me, long-haired guys were always my type, so I was just like, “Ooh, this is pretty nice.” (laughs)

A Shoujo Manga First!

A Tale of Youth with a Young Man in the Lead

---And then Fire! started its serialization in 1969.

Mizuno: Yes. I wanted to write a story about a pure-hearted and forward-facing young man. Under any other circumstances, I don’t think a shoujo manga editor would have given that an okay. But at that time in Japan, Group Sounds groups like the Tempters and the Tigers were in their heyday, so I just said, “I’ll draw a story about Group Sounds.” (laughs)

---Wait, you tricked them? (laughs)

Mizuno: Ehehehe. And then they gave me a simple, “Sure, okay.” For the first 5 or 6 chapters until Aaron gets out of the reformatory, I think readers were unsure what kind of story I was trying to tell. Before that I had been used to getting 20-30 fan letters a day, but they stopped coming all at once. If you look at them now, the drawings are very simplistic, but if you compared it to other shoujo manga at the time, stylistically it was a complete 180. I heard that readers thought they were looking at a gekiga manga.

---That must have thrown a lot of readers off. I mean, the story is really deep. If it was made now, I’m sure the tankobon release would be over ten volumes.

Mizuno: We didn’t get many pages back then. There was no way we would have been allowed to keep a story going for ten or twenty or thirty volumes. I mean, I only got 2 volumes to finish a story about the Russian Revolution in White Troika [Shiroi Troika], you know?

---What were reader reactions like after you got past those first five or six chapters?

Mizuno: Absolutely tremendous. Fan letters came flooding in. The number of male fans increased dramatically as well.

---Around where in the story did this change occur?

Mizuno: It was around the point where Aaron leaves the reformatory and starts meeting a lot of new companions.

---Did you get any fan letters addressed to the bands or characters in the story?

Mizuno: I didn’t really see that mix-up, no. It was all with the firm understanding that the story was just that, a story. These days we live in an anything-goes kind of world. Like you could see someone walking around town in full cosplay and no one would even bat an eye, right? People these days are getting too attached to fictional worlds.

---It sounds like your fans had a high level of maturity. I was just wondering if you also had the squealing fangirls.

Mizuno: In my mind, Fire! was never a bishounen work, but a story about a pure-hearted youth who wants to go out there and change things, and realizes that to make a real change, there’s no other option but to bring the whole system down. The message of “nakedness” is also present within the work, but it’s not pornography. Speaking of which, right around when Fire! started, the number of bed scenes and nudes in shoujo manga totally exploded, didn’t it? It’s like I unleashed something. (laughs)

---Oh, yeah, I remember that.

Mizuno: Right? It didn’t matter if you were reading a children’s magazine or a magazine aimed at adults, there was this rush of titles everywhere where it seemed like the quality didn’t matter at all, what mattered was that you had bed scenes.

---If something sells, you’re bound to get copycats, after all.

Mizuno: Well, the trend faded after a few years. But I guess it’s unavoidable that things will trend toward whatever gets readers.

---Were there any scenes you wanted to include that your editor wanted to reject outright?

Mizuno: There were. I kept getting told there was too much male nudity. For example, this was fixed in the tankobon release, but there was a drawing of Fire Wolf standing in a doorway nude where I’d drawn down to his navel, and I was told to erase his belly button. I changed it back later, though. (laughs)

---What’s considered taboo really changes depending on the era. It’s fascinating.

The Desires of Young Women Gave Birth to the Bishounen

---Fire!’s last chapter had a big impact on me. “When you throw yourself too much into your attempts at self-expression, this is how it turns out…” That kind of thing.

Mizuno: I was often asked whether Aaron died just after the end of the manga, but I felt like it needed to be an ending more painful [for the reader] than death.

---Why did you think that?

Mizuno: If he dies, then that’s it. The story ends right there. When I write a final chapter, I always want to write something that makes the reader think, “I wonder what became of that person after that.”

---I see. It wasn’t too long after that that the word BL first appeared. And now, if you go to a manga bookstore, you’ll find the shelf for seinen magazines, the shelf for shounen magazines, the shelf for shoujo manga, and the shelf for BL. That’s how large the market for BL has become. What do you think about that change, Mizuno-sensei?

Mizuno: Well, for starters, I had no idea that manga as a medium would become so widely accepted. Up until around when I started working on White Troika, it wasn’t even a thing yet for serialized manga to get a later tankobon release. I don’t think that became commonplace until the ‘70s, when the Year 24 Group came onto the scene and shoujo manga entered the era people now call its golden age. It feels so entirely outside my own experience that I kind of feel like a third party observer. You could say that manga has become a full member of everyday society. The kids who grew up loving manga maintained that love even after they became adults, some of them even going on to create manga themselves. There are a lot less people who think of manga as just a bad influence.

---The ‘70s also saw a boom in the number of seinen magazines, right?

Mizuno: That’s right. So it really feels like we laid the foundation for all of that. Not that I’ve ever gotten anything for it. (laughs) Oh, we were talking about bishounen manga, right?

---Thank you, yes we were. (laughs)

Mizuno: I think it’s something like a yearning that exists in the depths of every woman’s heart. That which we call the bishounen isn’t something that exists in reality, but rather entirely an ideal dreamt up by women. And in that, it possesses an otherworldly beauty totally divorced from the dirt and grime of the real world.

---Women tend to look for strength and kindness in men, so I wonder why despite that we yearn for beauty, too?

Mizuno: Women have a latent appreciation for pretty things. And for the most part, they’re interested in the opposite sex. So it follows that a member of the opposite sex who is also beautiful is even better, right? (laughs) Therein lies the appeal of the bishounen, the physical embodiment of women’s desires. That’s what I think.

**Taken from 大人の少女マンガ手帖 偏愛! 美少年の世界 (TJMOOK) (Otona no Shoujo Manga Hen'ai! Bishounen no Sekai), originally published in 2016. Translated October 2021 by me. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST.

[foredwall]

Michelin Star PB&Js

Trigger/Content Warning: mentions of eating disorders. Nothing graphic but stay safe 💕

“Chrissy!” He replied, imitating her tone playfully.

“I have a surprise for you!” Chrissy burst out, and Eddie could tell she was practically vibrating from her excitement.

A smile spread across his face as he leaned back against the couch, settling in. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

Eddie could picture her annoyed eye roll. “What do you think the word ‘surprise’ means?”

“Come on, just a liiittle hint?” He pressed, enjoying teasing his girlfriend.

“No! Just meet me in the park in fifteen minutes! I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“Baby, if you’re there, of course it will be,” Eddie drawled, knowing it would make Chrissy blush like she always did when he complimented her.

“Just come, you dork.”

“On my way.”

When Eddie pulled up in his old van to the public park late at night, he felt a little like a creeper, but when he caught sight of Chrissy sitting on the park bench, illuminated by the park lamps, all of those thoughts left his mind. She was wearing jean shorts and a white crop top, her hair pulled up with a pink scrunchie, and she sent him a blinding smile, when their eyes met. Eddie couldn’t imagine her being more perfect.

Eddie swung his door open and started to walk towards her, but she stood up and raced to meet him. When she got close enough, Chrissy launched herself in the air, arms raised to move around his neck, and Eddie caught her on instinct. He laughed and held her tightly around the waist as she wrapped her legs around his, burying her face in his neck.

Eddie breathed in the comforting scent of her hair, hugging her and realizing he never really wanted to let her go.

“Not that I don’t love this greeting, but what’s up, Princess?”

Chrissy just shrugged before pulling back and dropping her legs to the ground. “Just happy to see you!” She said, her chin tilted up to look at him, arms still loosely around his neck.

Eddie leaned down and pressed his lips to hers lightly, and he immediately felt like he was home. He smiled against her lips after a moment, saying “Ditto.”

Chrissy giggled, kissing him quickly before pulling apart and grabbing his hand, dragging him away. “Okay, come on!”

Eddie stumbled a bit as she jerked him forward before regaining his footing and following after her eagerly, as Chrissy led him farther into the park past benches and playground equipment.

Soon he could see something in the distance, just beneath one of the lamps in the park, casting a glow on the scene beneath.

Chrissy had put down a red and white checkered picnic blanket, with pink and red rose petals sprinkled all over. In the center was a wicker picnic basket, and Eddie had no doubt it was filled to the brim with all sorts of delicious food.

“Baby, what’s this for?” Eddie asked, stunned, looking away from the picnic to see Chrissy’s wide smile as she stood next to him, her fingers threaded through his.

“Nothing. Just because. Do you like it?” She asked softly, her blue eyes staring into his brown ones.

Instead of answering, Eddie just cupped the side of her face with his free hand, and caught her up in another, lingering kiss. Then he tugged his other hand free from Chrissy’s, bringing it up to her waist, pulling her into him, and tilting her back slightly at the same time.

Chrissy’s hands wound up in Eddie’s hair as she kissed him back with equal intensity, her lips moving against his.

They broke apart with a gasp, but Eddie kept her close, planting a smaller kiss on her cheek, catching the corner of her mouth.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured against her skin, feeling her grin.

So maybe a late night picnic wasn’t the biggest or fanciest surprise, but it meant the world to Eddie. He was with someone who went out of her way to give him wonderful displays of affection, who didn’t care about his reputation, and was with him for who he truly was.

How he wound up with this incredibly sweet girl, he’d never know. She deserved so much more than him, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t try his best to be a fraction of what she was due. Otherwise she’d realize he wasn’t good enough for her, and Eddie was pretty sure Chrissy’d take his whole heart with her if she ever decided to go.

Chrissy pulled back, placing a hand on his cheek and looking up at him, suddenly more serious. “Well, so are you, Eddie. You’ve saved me in so many different ways. You deserve everything and more.”

Eddie could feel his face heat up, as he shifted his weight from side to side, not used to affirmations like this.

Luckily, Chrissy continued noticing his slight discomfort. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to settle for a picnic in the park! Now go sit, the sandwiches aren’t gonna eat themselves!”

“Chrissy, sweetheart, how did you manage to make such a perfect meal?”

“It’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Eddie, it’s not exactly Michelin Star worthy.”

“Well, what do those fancy-ass dickwads know? I bet if they had a girl like you in their lives they’d be able to appreciate food that didn’t require a manual to know how to eat it.”

Chrissy gave an amused, light laugh, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing about as she took a bite out of her own sandwich, this one peanut butter and honey.

She leaned back, one arm supporting her from behind as she sat cross legged on the picnic blanket she’d snagged from her family’s garage earlier that day.

It didn’t take long to put this date together, the idea coming on a whim when she saw the wicker picnic basket sitting out on the kitchen counter while her mom rearranged the cupboards.

Before she knew it, Chrissy was pulling sandwich fixings and snack items out of the fridge and pantry, ignoring the biting remarks from her mother, complaining that all that food better not be for her. It irked Chrissy’s mother to no end that she’d gone up a size recently, mostly due to Eddie’s influence.

When they’d just begun dating, it wasn’t long before Eddie had tentatively brought up his concerns, having realized that he’d never seen her eating more than a few bites at any given meal.

Chrissy went on the defensive, brushing it off, and Eddie didn’t push, just said if she ever needed to talk, he would always be there.

She took him up on the offer, not really meaning to, everything just came pouring out in a mess of snot and tears one night. Eddie just held her through it all, not really saying anything, just listening and hugging her tightly.

It was a slow process, but these days Chrissy found it easier to ignore her mother’s voice in her mind, telling her to skip a meal or get rid of it later.

And out here with her boyfriend, the warm summer air breeze tangling his curly hair, it was simple to eat her sandwich, crunch on some carrots, and share a bag of potato chips with Eddie.

Chrissy wasn’t kidding earlier when she said he’d saved her in so many ways.

“Hello? Earth to Chrissy?” Eddie said teasingly, waving his hand in front of her face, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Hey,” she said with a smile.

“What’s on your mind, Princess?”

Chrissy let out a breath, popping the last bite of sandwich in her mouth, leaning towards Eddie as she finished chewing. “You.”

Eddie mirrored her position, leaning forward, closing the space between them. “Yeah? Thinkin’ about what a sexy stud I am?” He asked, a smile in his voice as he waggled his eyebrows.

“Something like that.”

Eddie laughed a bit, moving the rest of the way, catching her up in a dizzying kiss.

He tasted like strawberry and peanut butter, and Chrissy didn’t think she could ever get enough.

Scooching forward, she climbed onto his lap, not breaking their kiss, eager to be closer to him. Her hands found their way into the fabric of his Corroded Coffin t-shirt at his shoulders, clutching the material tight enough that it would probably have wrinkles.

Eddie broke the kiss, and Chrissy felt like complaining, but stopped when he starting planting sweet kisses along her neck and down to her shoulder, making her breath hitch.

His calloused hands rested lightly on her bare hips just beneath the hemline of her crop-top, and her skin tingled at the contact.

Chrissy turned her face toward Eddie, a hand leaving his shoulder to nudge his head back towards hers, desperate for another kiss.

He obliged, kissing her hungrily with a fiery intensity for a few moments, and she lightly bit down on his bottom lip, before they pulled apart for air.

Their eyes stayed closed, their foreheads touching, panting lightly, breathing the same air.

They looked up, eyes meeting, and Eddie removed one hand from Chrissy’s waist to rub his thumb lightly against her bottom lip.

“I love you,” he said quietly, but without any waver.

Chrissy sucked in a quick breath, searching Eddie’s eyes which stared back at her with a hopeful gleam.

It didn’t take Chrissy long to know she felt the exact same way.

“I love you too,” she told him, meaning the words with every fiber of her being, and they felt so right, like she was always meant to say them to Eddie.

She couldn’t wait to say them over and over again for years and years to come.

[ainarosewood]

Influence

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

FFxivWrite 2022 Prompt 2 Bolt

Redolent Rose examined the cloth before him woven by the newest member of the weavers guild and was in absolute awe.  Turning to the Miqo’te he asked quietly, “Is this truly your first time weaving?”

Aunei looked up at the Roegadyn replying, “By my own hand, yes.  Though I spent a lot of time near Ruveydah Fibers in Radz-at-Han while my “aunt” Seera kept an eye on me for my mother who was at the High Crucible.”

Redolent Rose’s eyes widened, “So you learned by observing the Thavnair weavers at their craft?”

Aunei nodded, “And listened to them as they instructed their apprentices.” 

Rose nodded then said, “Well if this is the quality you can produce you will make a fine weaver young lady, do keep at it.”

Aunei nodded obediently leaving the cloth with rose and made her way over to an unoccupied spot within the guild and began making more bolts to refine her technique.  As she did her mind drifted back to her first time entering the fibers.

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

The first thing that the young Miqo’te heard was the clack of the reed as it pushed the weft into the rest of the fabric, a steady rhythmic sound that filled her ears.  All around were people moving to and fro carrying bolt upon bolt of multi hued cloth and threads.  

All of it was so bright and colorful and she couldn't help but watch as she trailed behind her mother holding onto her tail so they wouldn't be separated as she had been taught.  

They continued on until they arrived in a room that smelled of earth and plants and there seemed to be whom her mother was looking for.  As the approached Aunei found herself scared, she had seen many of the Arkasodara around but never had she been so close and this woman positively towered over the young Miqo’te.

That fear swiftly vanished as the woman greeted them and then knelt down to be eye to eye with Aunei.  “Would you like to help feed the silkworms?”

Aunei looked up at her, her green eyes confused as she asked, “Silkworms?”

The Arakasodara nodded stating, “Aye young one silkworms, these little beauties are what makes the threads that we use to weave our cloth.”

She then led Aunei over to a wooden rack with leaves spread all over it, the heady scent of jasmine filling the young Miqo’te’s nose. There she saw amidst the leaves several worms about the length of an adult’s hand that were white and black in their coloration. 

“First come here so we can wash up, then pick  up that pile of leaves there and spread it out among the worms. They will do the rest.”

Obediently the Miqo followed her instructions as her mother said goodbye and left her with Seera.  For the rest of the afternoon Aunei helped the Arakasodara with her work around the Fibers.  From then on any time her mother had to work long days at the High Crucible she spent them there in the Fibers watching and learning from the weavers.

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

“Wow that looks so good,” a voice stated, dragging Aunei back to the present she looked over to see a young Hyur standing nearby watching the Miqo’te work.

“Thank you,” Aunei responded quietly as she finished off the bolt and set it with the rest she had set aside to be used in making clothing later.

“Mind if I keep watching? Momma’s busy deciding what colors will go best for her new outfit and I don't have anything to do.”

The Miqo’te gave her a smile and nodded, “Feel free to ask any questions as I work as well if your interested, weaving can be a very fascinating thing.”

“Really!!” the girl said excitedly and then began to fire away with a myriad of questions which Aunei readily answered as she worked remembering not so long ago being the same as the girl before her peppering an Arakasodara with similar questions while she worked.

[homoose]

Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part IV

Summary: The Halloween parade. Will and JJ are adorable. Anita suggests that Spencer become a classroom volunteer. Reader has a rough week.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a smidge of angst

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 4.4k

a/n: I wish we’d seen more of Will and JJ as parents because I imagine it would be adorable and hilarious. Let’s see if you can guess all of their costumes before the reveal lmao. Your only clue is that Spencer loves keeping with a theme and the brown vest (I literally learned how to make my own shitty gif bc I couldn’t find the right one in the search and I do not understand embedding lmao) makes an appearance.

Series Masterlist

———

“Did you grab the bags?” JJ swept the pleated, platinum braid out of her face as she bent over to zip up her boots.

“No, I thought you did,” Will called, bouncing down the stairs.

“I put them in the car already,” Spencer informed them, popping his head back in the front door. “There was just the one box, right?”

“Yeah, that was it,” Will confirmed. “Shit— where’s Michael’s sword?”

“Should be on the counter,” JJ huffed, standing up and adjusting the bodice of the blue dress.

“Got it.” Will came around the corner of the kitchen, patting his hips where his pockets would be— if he weren’t wearing an adult-sized onesie. “Keys?” Spencer held them up. “All right then, let’s get this show on the road.”

The trio headed to the waiting SUV, Spencer climbing into the backseat as Will and JJ got into the front. Will and JJ chattered on about dinner plans and schedules for the following week, and Spencer smoothed down the brown wool vest layered over his white linen shirt. He’d spent entirely too long putting together the costume over the last week (with a little help from Penelope). He’d scrapped the Spock getup he’d been working on since September— he could always wear that next year. But he’d only get one chance to attend the Room 105 Halloween parade, and once the idea had wormed its way into his brain, he had to make it happen.

“Spence?” JJ’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be able to pick Michael up on Monday?”

He ran his hands down his thighs over the mint green cropped trousers. “Sure, as long as we don’t have a case.”

Will smirked at him in the rear view mirror. “How’s Ms. Y/L/N?”

“You’re about to see her yourself, so you can ask,” Spencer replied.

Will laughed, and JJ turned in her seat. “Whoa, coming in hot with the snark. You really do like her.”

Spencer fought and failed to keep the blush from rising, irritation at being teased blooming sharp inside his chest. He tried to shrug as nonchalantly as possible. “She’s a great teacher.”

“That’s not a no,” JJ noted, eyebrows raised.

“She’s Michael’s teacher,” Spencer said, like it meant something.

“Yeah, so?” Will shrugged his shoulders. “You’re his godfather. Technically, you’re not related, so it wouldn’t be breakin’ any rules.”

“Well, it’s not like that, so it doesn’t really matter,” Spencer insisted.

Will hummed and JJ turned back around in her seat. Spencer drummed his fingers on his knees and watched DC roll past through the SUV window. It really wasn’t like that. Y/N was just… very nice. A nice, beautiful, sweet, silly kindergarten teacher that he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how many books he read or coffees he drank or chess games he played.

Monday was the last day of his sabbatical, and he was even more relieved to be headed back than usual— grateful that he’d have something to occupy his mind other than her. Because his mind was, indeed, occupied. The way her smile beamed like the spotlight on a stage, illuminating whoever happened to be on the receiving end. The way her hands moved in unbound, buoyant illustrations of her thoughts. The way her laugh felt like the first warm sip of tea or the wrap of his favorite scarf. It was getting out of hand, to say the least.

Will pulled into the parking lot, and instantly Spencer’s palms began to sweat. He glanced at the headband on the seat beside him and felt the mortification clawing at his insides. The costume was ridiculous; he was ridiculous. He should have just worn the Spock outfit.

Maybe he could just wait in the car and pretend like he hadn’t been able to make it. Or he could just leave the headband in the car. But then he’d just be in mint green capris with a sweater vest and platform sandals, and she’d have absolutely no idea who he was supposed to be. Then he’d have to explain it, and it would be even worse.

Will parked the car, and he and JJ immediately stepped out. Spencer watched them near the hood of the SUV, enjoying a rare moment of co-parenting without work hovering right out of frame. Will pulled the hood of the onesie up and JJ laughed, brushing her hand over the brown fabric twigs sticking out of the top. He supposed that if Will Lamontagne, Jr. could strut his stuff in adult footie pajamas, his handmade costume was probably all right.

With one last resigned sigh, Spencer slid the headband on. He grabbed the box of Halloween treats, opened the door, and hauled himself out of the vehicle. He pushed the door closed and looked in the reflection of the window, adjusting the headband around his curls and blowing out a breath.

“Ready?” JJ called, peering around the side of the SUV.

“Yeah—yeah,” Spencer agreed. He moved around the vehicle to join them, the three of them walking to find a spot in the crowd of parents standing around the carpool loop.

When they found a suitable spot, Will looked up at him and shook his head. The sandals added three extra inches to Spencer’s height, putting him a good six inches taller than Will. “Those shoes make you look like an actual giant,” Will chuckled. “I know that’s the point, but I feel like even more of a shrimp next to ya now.”

Spencer set the box of candy bags on the ground and would have shoved his hands into his pockets if the linen trousers had any. Before he could respond, JJ pointed to the door of the school, cooing, “Oh my god, look. Remember when the boys were that small?”

The PreK classes came out first, and Spencer could acknowledge that they were very cute, barely out of the toddler stage and holding hands with a line buddy. But he was waiting on a very specific cutie.

He’d barely had the thought when the kindergarten classes started to emerge from the door. He almost didn’t recognize her at first— just an orange blob and green shrubbery. But the converse gave her away.

“How is she so cute?” JJ threaded her arm through Will’s. “Even when she’s dressed as a giant orange blob.”

“It’s a gift,” Will agreed. He glanced up at Spencer. “Right, doc?”

Spencer nodded but didn’t take his eyes off Y/N. “I think so, yeah.” Will grinned and bumped JJ’s shoulder, but Spencer barely even registered his own response.

Thankfully they’d picked a spot near the very end of the loop, so he had plenty of time to get himself together before she was in front of him. While Will and JJ waved at all the tiny superheroes and princesses, he watched Y/N. She was all orange fabric from her shoulders to her knees, with bright orange Chucks to match. On her head was a strange variation on a party hat, bright green ferns sprouting from the tip of the cone and falling into her face. She looked absolutely ridiculous and entirely adorable, and he was in so much trouble.

When the class finally approached the final curve of the loop, Will nudged Spencer and gestured to the box of goodie bags. Spencer crouched down and lifted the box, standing back up to see Y/N laughing at Will and JJ. “Very cute, Lamontagne Family.”

Her gaze traveled across, then up, and then her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. Spencer wondered if maybe the earth could just open up and swallow him whole.

“Oh my god, are you—?” She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over the vest, and he didn’t dare breathe. “Are you the BFG?!” Her hand dropped from his torso, and he didn’t have time to be disappointed before her face split into quite possibly the biggest smile he’d seen from her yet.

A tiny Superman shouted, “Ms. Y/L/N, we’re making a gap!”

Y/N came back to herself, gesturing to all three of them. “Don’t go anywhere.” She accepted the offered box of treats from Spencer and then turned to help her class catch up.

Will gave him a look. “It’s not like that, huh?”

“Oh my god, she likes you.” JJ clapped her hands together. “This is amazing.”

“I’m takin’ credit for this,” Will bragged. “I’m a regular ol’ matchmaker.”

Spencer couldn’t even be bothered to attempt a denial. He was still thinking about the feel of her palm on his chest, how it might feel to hold her hand, the way her eyes practically sparkled when she saw his ridiculous headband. He was in so much trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, the classes filed back out into the parking lot for dismissal. Y/N led the class down the sidewalk, grinning at the excitement coursing through her line. As they approached the end of the loop, Y/N caught sight of them and waved. The kids lined up in their normal spot, chatting excitedly about their costumes and candy bags.

“Lord, Ms. Y/L/N, you’re something else,” Will laughed.

“Is it not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen?” She laughed and tapped the green shrubbery hanging in her face. “I have the kids do a little persuasive writing thing every year. They draw a picture and write a sentence about what they think Ms. Y/L/N should be for Halloween, and then we take a vote.”

She waved her hands in that way Spencer loved, the way that was so similar to his own. “Usually the options are pretty tame, you know—ghost, witch, bumblebee. This year was a near tie between runner-up Jojo Siwa and well,” she gestured at herself, “carrot.” Y/N cackled, and the leaves on top of her head shook with the action.

They all laughed along with her, and then JJ added, “The details are truly incredible. Is this an actual plant on your head?”

“I really thought about it,” Y/N laughed, “but no, it’s just fake ferns stuffed into a cardstock funnel.” She gestured at Will and JJ. “But also, excuse me— this family costume is ridiculously cute. Mr. Lamontagne, loving this onesie. Mrs. Jareau, I didn’t even know it was possible to look prettier than you usually do, but here you are. And Michael’s Anna costume?” She held her hands up. “Incredible. Show stopping. I wish I had an aunt Penelope to enlist the help of, because that cape is the actual height of fashion.”

“She helped Spence, too,” JJ prompted, stealing a glance in his direction.

“Oh yeah?” Y/N asked, turning to smile at Spencer.

“We um, 3D printed the ears,” he clarified.

“No way!” She took a step closer to him, peering up at the detail on the headband. He leaned down a little for her to get a closer look. “That is so cool. I’ve never actually seen anything 3D printed up close before— did you design them yourself?”

She met his eyes briefly, and he realized how close they were— close enough that he caught the faintest whiff of sandalwood and cardamom. Of course she even smelled like warmth and home. “Well. I, um— I drew a sort of sketch, I guess. And then Penelope did the software coding. I— I’m not very good with technology, honestly.”

She ran her fingers lightly over the plastic, and he decided she was really trying to kill him. “Yeah, I’m not sure I really understand how it works.”

“Well, first you create a blueprint file of the design you want to print, which you can do through modeling software or three-dimensional scanning. Then you convert the file into an STL file— named for Stereolithography which was the first ever 3D printing process. The STL file is made up of triangular mesh polygons, which is the data that describes the surface of a three-dimensional object. After that, you use a software program to complete the process of slicing— essentially dividing or chopping the 3D model into hundreds or thousands of horizontal layers that the printer can print one at a time to create the 3D object. And then the printer prints each layer until you have your finished product.”

Y/N was quiet, and he pulled back to see her grinning at him. “I thought you said you weren’t very good with technology?”

“I’m not good with using technology,” he clarified.

She nodded. “Gotcha. So you just know everything about it.”

Her joking tone had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I read a lot.”

“How much is a lot?”

“I can read at a rate of 20,000 words per minute, so… a lot.”

Her eyebrows shot up into the tangle of ferns on her head, and he was just so overwhelmed by how adorable she was. “Well, if I ever have a question about anything, I know who I’m coming to.”

He was sure he was blushing, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. “I’m happy to answer any and all of your questions.”

She let her gaze travel over the rest of the costume. “Oh my god, the sandals! Man, you really nailed it. I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I thought about being Trunchbull, but I couldn’t find the sweatshirt,” he joked.

She laughed, and he wanted to bottle it up to keep forever. “As much as I would have loved to see your hair in a bun… you’re much too sweet to have been able to pull that off.” She smiled softly at him. “Much more suited to our friend the BFG.”

He rubbed a hand down the back of his neck, and it was only then that he realized Will and JJ had gone to the car. He looked back to Y/N, opening his mouth but unsure of what he was going to say.

“Y/L/N!” He turned his head to see Anita jogging toward them. “Did you—” The giant cardboard box she was wearing knocked into one of the few kindergarteners left in Y/N’s line, nearly sending them to the ground. “Oh my gosh, sorry sweetheart!” She righted the startled child, and Spencer gave her a once over, completely at a loss as to what her costume could be.

“What in the world are you supposed to be?” Y/N asked, choking out a laugh.

Anita looked at her deadpan. “A monopoly piece. Remind me that I’m never participating in team costumes ever again.” She rolled her eyes and gestured at Y/N. “Next year I’m gonna wear an orange t-shirt, call myself a carrot, and be much more comfortable.”

“I’ll have you know this costume was a lot of work,” Y/N remarked, crossing her arms.

“I’m sure it was. You could have put on an orange dress, stuck a green pipe cleaner in your hair, and called it a day, but that’s not the Y/L/N way.” Anita’s eyes slid across to where Spencer stood. “Well, hello, doctor. I have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to be, but I love everything about it.”

“Spencer’s the BFG,” Y/N said, and Spencer could have sworn she sounded almost proud.

“Ah, Roald Dahl, of course.” Anita smirked. “I see you, Spencer. I see you.” She put her hands on her hips— or rather where her hips would have been if they weren’t covered by a ridiculously large box. “So, when are you going to volunteer?”

“Sorry?” he asked.

“Like, when are you going to volunteer in Y/L/N’s classroom?” She held up her hand, palm down, and made a circular motion between the two of them. “You know, hang out, but professionally.”

“Oh my god, did you need something?” Y/N’s squeaked, eyes wide.

Anita ignored her. “You just have to do a background check, but I’m sure you’ll pass it.”

“Lopez,” Y/N said, staring her down. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I was just going to ask if you got the email about the PD after school on Tuesday. But this was much more fun.” She winked at Spencer. “Bye, Spencer.”

They both stared after her as she nearly skipped across the grass to the building. Y/N turned to him. “I’m— so sorry.”

He met her eyes and took the leap. “Volunteering could be fun.”

He watched her press her lips together to contain her smile. “It could be.”

He didn’t bother containing his own. “I’ll um— I’ll shoot you an email.”

“I’ll respond to your email.”

…

When he walked in the door, Spencer made a beeline for his desk. He opened his laptop and pulled up his email account, writing as fast as his one-finger typing would allow.

Spencer Reid Re: Volunteering

Hi!

I’m just following up about volunteering. Anita mentioned a form that I needed to fill out? Now that I’ll be back to work, I’ll just need to plan around the BAU schedule. Could you give me a list of days that would work for you?

Really looking forward to seeing you in action.

Spencer

He checked his two other email messages, and then left the browser up while he thumbed through his most recent reading material.

He sat at his desk for the remainder of the afternoon, distractedly perusing his book and glancing at his empty inbox every minute or so. His gaze flew up to the screen at the ding of a new message at 6:30, only to find a promotional email from one of his favorite indie bookstores.

He closed his laptop with a sigh. It was a Friday night. Y/N probably just didn’t check her email on the weekend. He could wait until Monday. He’d see her on Monday.

He limited himself to checking his laptop twice a day on Saturday and Sunday. When Monday rolled around, he checked it in the morning. He leaned back against the leather of his chair, staring at the empty inbox. He had some errands to run, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had a phone that had email on it.

He ran his last-day-of-sabbatical errands and stopped in at his favorite coffee shop for most likely the last midday, sit-down coffee he’d have for a while. Before he realized, it was 2:30. He brought his empty mug to the counter and waved to the barista. Then he walked to the car and prepped his conversation starters.

“Did you get my email? I sent you an email, just wondering if you saw it? Hey— Hello— Hi, I wasn’t sure if you got my email.” He blew out a breath. “Hi. How are you?” He waved his hand. “I’m great. Did you get my email?” He laughed into the empty car. “Ridiculous, Spencer. You’re ridiculous.”

When he pulled into the parking lot, his heart was racing and his palms were slipping against the steering wheel. He pulled around the loop, looking with a furrowed brow at the area where Y/N should be. In her place was a short woman with cropped grey hair. She held a clipboard and looked generally overwhelmed.

Michael sprinted to the car as soon as he saw it. He pulled open the door and let out a world weary sigh. Spencer turned in his seat. “Everything all right?”

“No, everything is terrible,” he huffed dramatically. “Ms. Y/L/N was sick today. Mrs. Franklin was our substitute, and she smells weird.”

Spencer looked through the window at Mrs. Franklin, struggling to keep a few rowdy boys in the line. “I’m sorry, buddy. I’m sure Ms. Y/L/N will be back soon.” He was secretly relieved that he had a potential explanation for the unanswered email.

“I can’t take another day of Mrs. Franklin,” Michael sighed, buckling his seatbelt. “I hope Ms. Y/L/N’s back tomorrow.”

Spencer let out a breath and pulled away from the curb. “Me, too.”

…

JJ huffed out a breath, glaring at the stack of paperwork in front of her. Spencer was nose deep in a book, but he glanced up at the sound. “I can take a few of those if you want,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed. “I’ve really only got six left.”

He looked at his watch. “Each report takes you approximately 37 minutes. With eight minute breaks in between, you’re not going to be out of here until almost 6:00.”

JJ laughed. “I can’t believe I missed out on these scathing performance reviews for thirty days.”

“Suit yourself.” Spencer dropped his gaze back to his reading.

His first week back from sabbatical had been uneventful to say the least. The team had just wrapped a local case, and they’d spent the better part of the week going over consultations and potentials. It was finally Friday, and Spencer was finished with his stack of backlogged reports.

He was finishing the last chapter of the book when JJ dropped a string of quiet curses. He continued reading, waiting for her to ask. She was quiet for another minute.

“I forgot I’m on duty to pick Michael up today.” Spencer looked up at her, slight panic coming over him.

“I really don’t mind finishing your reports,” he offered.

JJ raised her eyebrows. “What, no offering to visit Ms. Y/L/N?”

Spencer closed his book. “I, um. I sent her an email a week ago, and she hasn’t responded.”

“So?”

“So…” Spencer ran a hand through his hair. “That’s weird, right?”

JJ laughed. “You don’t really use email, so I’d imagine your inbox is pretty orderly. But if you use it a lot, it can be easy for messages to get lost.” She looked at him pointedly. “I can almost guarantee that she’s not ignoring you, Spence.”

He sighed. “I guess there’s a quick way to find out.”

...

Spencer drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the door of the school. He glanced at the clock, noting the class was later than they’d ever been. Without really understanding why, he pulled out of the loop and swung back around to park in the lot. He exited the car, and as he rounded the hood, he spotted them.

Y/N was at the front of the line, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket and mouth pressed into a thin line. The line behind her was unlike he’d ever seen it. No waving arms, no smiles, no giggles. Twenty small bodies followed behind her with absolute and total solemnity, and he felt uncomfortable just watching them. It would have almost been funny if it wasn’t so dramatically out of character.

The line weaved around the more rambunctious classes, maintaining their grave expressions and quiet pace. They reached their spot on the sidewalk, and Y/N didn’t even have to say anything. Spencer watched as the line took their spots behind her. She held one hand up to acknowledge parents as they pulled up, murmuring stoic goodbyes to students as they headed to their vehicles.

He hung back at the hood of the car until the majority of the class was gone, slowly making his way across the parking lot. Y/N’s line of sight was pointed in his direction, but her eyes were unfocused in the afternoon sun. He could see the moment that she registered his presence, her eyes widening slightly and bottom lip releasing from the place she’d been absentmindedly chewing. She shifted her weight as he closed the final few feet between them.

“Hi.” She held a silent hand up in greeting. He clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Rough day?”

“It’s not always sunshine and rainbows, despite what everyone thinks,” she snapped. She blew out a breath and rolled her eyes up to the perfectly blue sky, mocking her mood. “I’m sorry. Yes, it was a rough day.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“You don’t deserve my wrath.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the students. “They didn’t either, but— too late for that.”

He watched as she lowered her head back down, rubbing a hand over her face. He desperately wanted to slay whatever dragons had given her normally brilliant eyes such a grey cast. “You have strong relationships with them, and kids are resilient. I’m sure they know you—”

“Please— don’t.” Her voice was thick, and she looked at him with desperate eyes. “I— I appreciate the thought, but I’m— I’m a frustrated crier.” Her shining irises proved her point. “And I’m just— I’m really just trying to keep it together for the last four minutes of my contract time.” Her words were practically a whisper, and she swallowed thickly and glanced down the line, just Michael and one classmate left, eyes downcast.

“I understand.” Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from reaching out and touching her. “I’m sorry. I— I hope your weekend is better than today.”

Michael slowly left the line, murmuring a quiet goodbye to Y/N. Spencer put a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the car, stealing one last glance at a crushed Y/N.

...

Y/N Y/L/N

Re: Re: Volunteering

Hi,

I meant to respond to this email, and then a bunch of things happened, and then I was out all week.

I don’t know if you even still want to volunteer after this afternoon, but it felt rude to not respond at all.

I’ve attached the background check form to this email in case you’re still interested.

Y/N

1 Attachment: Background Check

—

Hi,

I meant what I said this afternoon. Your students love you, and they know you love them. If my conversation with Michael in the car was any indication, they’re feeling rightfully embarrassed and guilty about their behavior while you were out.

Regardless of what happened today, your relationships with your students are strong enough that they will come to school tomorrow knowing that you still care about them. Children don’t hold onto things nearly as much as adults.

It would be a privilege to volunteer in your classroom, even on the worst day.

Spencer

1 Attachment: Background Check - Spencer Reid

—

If I wasn’t already crying, I would be now.

Thanks for that.

No sarcasm intended. Really. Thank you.

—

This might be inappropriate, and if it is, please just pretend like this email doesn’t exist.

I have a favorite cafe in the DuPont circle area, Soho Tea & Coffee. They have an excellent tea drink made with honey and milk that I like to order whenever I’ve had a particularly difficult day.

If you’re up for it, it’s on me.

———

Tags: @spacedikut​ @uhuhuh​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @90spumkin​ @blameitonthenight21​ @magenta145​ @annesauriol​ @watermelongubler​ @ampal98​ @rainsong01​ @meowiemari​ @mrsmyaweasley​ @mggsprettygirl​​ @ceeellewrites​ @coffeeandendlesswords​ @daybabyx​ @joalsglasses​ @chevyimpala00067​ @misshale21​ @sapphic-prentiss @danifaithkae​ @saspencereid @heyitssomegirl101

Permanent tags: @andiebeaword​ @averyhotchner​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @shadyladyperfection​ @coffeeandendlesswords​ @justanothetfangirl​ @no-honey-no​ @ajeff855

[side-shawty]

Burn XVI (Stark!Reader)

XVI: Standing on the Sun

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

Type: series

Prompt/Summary: True love comes in many forms.

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Three weeks later and things were better. You had gone back to New York with the team just in time for Peter’s graduation. Even though the whole team wanted to be there Peter decided that he didn’t need a spectacle and in the end, his girlfriend and mentor would be the only ones attending while the rest set up for a surprise party later.

Girlfriend. You couldn’t get over how nice that sounded. As you stood in front of the mirror in Peter’s favorite multicolored sundress you smiled.

It was off the shoulder hugged your body perfectly and ended just above your knee in a ruffled hem. You left your makeup light on account of the heat and pulled your hair back in a curly bun with a few curls framing your face and your edges expertly laid.

You absentmindedly brushed the scar on the back of your neck. It brought back all kinds of horrors that you had to push aside. That was something for therapy.

As you were spritzing perfume on yourself there was a knock at your door.

“Y/N you ready? Car’s running,” your dad called from the other side of the door.

“Yeah,” you replied and opened the door to face your father dressed neatly in a blue button-down, pants, sneakers, and his signature glasses, “Handsome,” you told him simply hooking your arm around his and beginning to walk down the hall towards the elevators.

“Beautiful,” he replied and you reached the entrance in no time, the doors open and waiting.

You got to Peter’s school in no time having left early enough to evade the worst of the traffic. The ceremony itself was swift, the graduating class was small but to your surprise, as you and your father were waiting with the other families outside for the graduates you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

Confused, you turned around only to be met with the beaming smile of your favorite Princess.

“Shuri?!” You asked incredulously.

“Y/N! I’ve missed you how are you?” She asked pulling you into a hug which you gratefully accepted.

“I’m good! What are you doing here?” You asked pulling back, still a little shocked.

“Well, it just so happens that someone I am seeing is graduating today as well,” she smiled and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You tilted your head in question but before she could answer you heard her name being called. You both turned around at the sound to see MJ practically running towards her.

Shuri opened her arms and instead of a hug, MJ planted a sweet kiss on her lips.

You were shocked, you put your hands on your hips and glared playfully as they pulled away.

“So neither of you were planning to tell me about this?” You questioned and they just smiled at you, threading their hands together.

“Oh you would’ve figured it out at the party later,” Shuri giggled, leaning into MJ’s side. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your excited smile.

“I think it’s sweet, you guys are a great match,” Tony spoke up, smiling at the two young ladies

“Thanks, Stark,” Shuri said and MJ nodded in agreement, she’d never admit it but the man still made her nervous.

“Shuri, my mom wants us to take pictures before we leave,” MJ said and her girlfriend nodded.

“No problem, see you guys at the party later,” Shuri spoke.

“Bye guys,” MJ waved and they both walked away, giddy as ever.

You and your father both waved back.

“Wow they’re so cute together,” you told him and he hummed in agreement. “Speaking of cute, where is my boyfriend?”

“Gross Y/N,” he replied but began looking around regardless.

“Found him, Hap and May got to him first,” he said pointing to the trio.

The excitement you felt just from seeing the back of his head was almost too much, you practically sprinted and threw your arms around him. He jumped slightly at the contact as you pressed yourself against his back.

“Congratulations Peter!” He turned around in your arms and smiled down at you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he beamed and cupped your face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hey, don’t hog the graduate,” Your father complained and you rolled your eyes before releasing him.

Your father was quick to give Peter a hug as he walked up to him, “Congrats kid. Allow me to be the first—”

May cleared her throat.

“Second,” Tony tried again.

Happy silently shook his head in response.

“Fine third you a graduation present,” he finally finished.

With that, he fished a set of keys out from his pocket and handed them to Peter.

“Is this...” Peter began but was slightly stunned into silence.

“Yup, the Spyder with a few Stark modifications, enjoy it,” he smiled.

“Wow, thank you so much, Mr. Stark,” Peter gave your father another big hug which also knocked the man over.

“Wanna take it for a test drive?” You offered.

Peter nodded excitedly and you handed your own keys over to Tony before taking your boyfriend's hand.

“We’ll meet you guys at the tower!” You called over your shoulder as you waved goodbye to the group.

When you were both out of earshot May spoke absentmindedly to the two men.

“I can’t wait to plan their wedding,” she smiled.

Tony rubbed at his eyes.

——

When you got to the car Peter was quick to open the door for you and then toss his cap and gown in the trunk before slipping into the driver's seat.

“I think this might be too nice for me, Y/N” he spoke, taking in all the upgrades and sheer beauty of it.

“Please, you deserve this and so much more,” smiled taking his hand, prompting him to look in your eyes and smile back.

He took the hand that was on the steering wheel and expertly avoided your low bun to place his hand on the back of your neck to bring you in for a slow, loving kiss.

Once again you thought about how much you loved him, how perfect everything felt when you were together. It was like every single star is the sky aligned just to shine on the two of you.

Just before things get too heated you place your hand on his chest and push him back slightly, resting your forehead on his.

“As much as I’d love to christen your new car, we should get back to the tower. No reason to keep them waiting,” you smirked.

Peter gave a dramatic sigh and sat back in his seat, “Fine~ I guess this is what I get for having the girl everybody wants,” he said starting the car.

“But don’t forget she only has eyes for you,” you have the back of his hand a kiss as he pulled out of the lot.

“And I for her,” he smiled.

——

Once the two of you got back to the tower you had to try you best to force Peter to avoid looking for the others. Nat had texted you on the way that they weren’t quite done with everything and you were tasked with distracting him.

And distract him you did.

Under the guise of your feet hurting from hours spent in the low heels, you were wearing. Peter looked skeptical but followed you to your room to grab a pair of slides nonetheless. Only, he questioned you further when you had him walk in first and then you locked the door behind yourself.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” He asked, but still kicked off his own shoes before relaxing on the giant bean bag chair beside the bed.

You turned around slowly, keeping your hands behind your back as you leaned against the door kicking off your heels and staring at him. Gosh, everything about him is perfect, you thought. He tilted his head to the side and you walked to him slowly. When you reached arm's length he sat up slightly and held your hips and smiled up at you.

“What is it, babe?”

You carded one hand through his hair and leaned down to capture his lips in a short kiss. Your words were a whisper against his lips.

“You’re so pretty.” Without a second's hesitation, Peter was laughing at your omission. It took no effort for him to pull you down onto him, across his lap. You let out your own giggle at his antics.

“All these theatrics because you think I’m pretty?” The skepticism was back in his voice and it made you roll your eyes.

“Is it such a crime to think my boyfriend is pretty?” You pouted.

“No, as long as you don’t forget how gorgeous you are.” Peter looked you up and down .”Especially in this dress. Do you know how hard it was to hold back when I saw you wearing this in the bleachers?”

“I was hoping you’d like it,” you grinned.

“Like it? I absolutely love it.” As if to prove this point he left a trail of kisses from shoulder to shoulder before going up your neck and leaving several more in his wake. It wasn’t long before his lips found your own and you were sharing a passionate kiss.

Your arms locked around his neck, fingers slipping through his hair again and tugging slightly even so often. Meanwhile, Peter had one hand locked around your waist, keeping him firmly against him while the other trailed slowly up your back. You could feel him beginning to tug at your zipper when a knock interrupted. The two of you halted. Breathing heavily as whoever it was stood outside silently for a few seconds.

“Yeah?” You called, almost breathless.

“We’re about to eat if you guys wanna, y’know join us,” Natasha spoke and from her tone, you could tell you were in trouble.

You glanced at Peter and the two of you shared a silent laugh.

“We’ll be right there!”

——

After straightening yourselves out and slipping on spare slides and sneakers, respectfully you grabbed Peter’s hand and led him towards the elevator.

“We’re not eating here?” He asked.

“Oh, we are.” You replied and hit the button for the roof as you got it.

“Y/N what are we—“

You pressed a finger to his lips. “Shh, all will be revealed, my love.” Peter only rolled his eyes before licking your finger and you recoiled.

“Gross!” You exclaimed

“Oh really? Well just wait until—“ But his words were cut off once again as the elevator reached its destination.

A shout of “Surprise!” Rang out from everyone on the rooftop which had been decorated with the utmost care as a ‘Congratulations Peter’ banner hovered over the crowd in red and blue. Everyone was there, all the Avengers, MJ and Ned, Strange and even Shuri. The genuine look of surprise and joy on Peter’s face was enough to have you praying that DUM-E was actually recording like you told it to. If not, it was going to be the new jungle gym for an elementary school.

As Peter gave his greets and thanks to his guests you drifted over towards your mom who was holding a sleeping Morgan in her arms.

“You two look happy,” She smiled.

You couldn’t help the grin that took over your features. “We are, we really really are.”

Pepper took a sip of her drink. “I hope you’re using protection, Morgan and I are a little too young to be grandma and niece.” You sputtered at that, grateful that you didn't have a drink in your hand.

“Mom please.”

“I’m just saying. Maybe next time,” she gestured to her own neck, “cover-up.” She winked.

You gasped and coved your neck quick as lightning, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Here’s your chance.” She winked before walking off under the guise of wanting to put your sister down.

You felt Peter before you saw him, an arm wrapped around your waist and his lips kissed your temple. You wanted to be annoyed but you leaned in on instinct instead.

“I’m gonna kill you, Parker,” you spoke but your threat was weak.

“Whoa, and here I was about to thank you for this wonderful surprise,” he pouted, moving in front of you and placing both hands on your waist. The two of you were near the edge of the roof while the others were towards the center giving you a feeling of pseudo privacy.

“Well you’re welcome but our entrance would have been much better if it wasn’t for this.” You pointed accusingly at your neck and he squinted. You swatted at his chest at his antics.

“Ah, what? It’s really not that bad,” He leaned in close to whisper in your ear, “I could have done a lot more damage.”

You shivered even though at sunset it was still almost eighty degrees, Peter wasn’t playing fair and he knew it.

You whispered back. “Well, maybe next time you do it so I can enjoy I.” To accentuate your point you left a kiss just below his ear, heating your body up just enough to get a reaction out of him.

Peter groaned and his grip on your waist tightened as he placed his forehead against yours and smiled.

“I will. But seriously, thank you for all of this. I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend,” his voice was still quiet, like it was a secret just between the two of you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Have I told you how much I love hearing you call me that?”

“Well how about I change that?”

You were confused as Peter removed one hand to fish around in his pocket. He took a hand step back from you and you let your arms fall back to your sides. He finally pulled out a blue velvet box and slowly opened the lid. You were met with a beautiful platinum ring with a gemstone — your birthstone — nestled beside Peter’s birthstone, peridot. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“Peter is this…?”

“It’s not a formal engagement but it is most certainly a promise. We’ve been through a lot these last few years and I realized that the reason I got through any of it was you by my side. And when we’re ready I want to make this an engagement ring.” He explained and there was so much emotion in his eyes you wondered if he would cry too. “So what do you say?” “I love it, god, I love you,” You spoke and that was enough for him to push the box back in his pocket and place the ring on your finger. It was a perfect fit and you couldn’t help but stare at it for a few moments before you looked back at the love of your life.

“I love you too, Y/N. More than you know.” And with that, he pulled you into a loving kiss that probably would have gone on for too long if it wasn’t for the cheers and shouts behind you.

You turned around and hugged Peter around the middle, the two of you laughed at your friends and family together and you couldn't help be bask in this feeling of love and peace.

With Peter by your side, you knew anything was possible.

THE END.

-----

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE!!! Whether you stuck around or not I am genuinely grateful and I hope you all enjoyed it!!

Much Love - Duckie

[prentissinred]

Life in Pink

Rated T (mild suggestive content) Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Word Count: 2.5k AO3

Hi friends! Guess what? This past weekend marked one year since I posted my first story! How crazy is that?!

I’m so utterly grateful to this community for being such a bright spot in a difficult year. To everyone who’s taken the time to read something I’ve written, thank you for being so kind and supportive. It means more to me than I can express in words. To the brilliant, lovely, talented people I now get to call my friends, I love you all so very much.

To commemorate the occasion, I wrote a little something. This is set in the world of The Wonder of You, which was the first story I’ve ever written – but you don't need to have read that to understand this :)

I hope you like it <3

--

“I mean it, JJ. Whatever happens, do not call us.”

“Yes, Emily. For the hundredth time, I promise not to call you.”

Aaron slipped his free hand into his wife’s and squeezed. “Sweetheart, it’ll be fine. Strauss knows we’re away, and our backlog is miraculously clear. We’ll be okay.”

He returned to packing up his things on his desk while Emily huffed and quietly muttered something unflattering about their superior under her breath. JJ chuckled and embraced her friend. “Go. Have a fabulous time and make us all incredibly jealous. We’ll see you in a week.”

After another round of goodbyes and poorly-veiled suggestive comments from Morgan and Dave, Aaron and Emily were in their car and on their way to Dulles, suitcases already packed and in the trunk.

It had been her idea. A holiday in Greece to commemorate their first wedding anniversary. There hadn’t been time to plan a honeymoon, their wedding in Dave’s backyard coming together with relative expediency. They had spent the weekend after the ceremony in a hotel, indulging in champagne and room service for 48 hours before returning to work the following Monday.

Neither of them thought much of it after that, swept up in both work and newlywed life. They moved into a new home, a classic Colonial in Arlington with extra bedrooms and a white wrap-around porch, and adopted a dog at Jack’s insistence.

And before either of them had realized it, it had been a year. Aaron had remembered the upcoming date over Saturday breakfast as he cut bacon into little pieces for Jack, which were then promptly fed to Boo who waited patiently under the table next to Jack’s chair. Emily and Aaron shared a look of bemused surprise as they came to the realization that neither of them had planned anything to celebrate the occasion.

“We could take a trip,” Emily suggested casually. “We haven’t been away before, just the two of us.”

He’d been doubtful at first, unsure if they could really manage to get the time away with such short notice. But it was clear how enthused Emily was by the prospect, though she hid it well under masked nonchalance. Though she always insisted she was more than happy to spend her time at home, appreciative of the roots they had cultivated after all the travel and displacement of her past, Aaron knew there was still a part of her that missed that heady thrill of exploring an unfamiliar place for the first time. And truthfully, he could think of little else that he would enjoy more than having his wife all to himself for a few days.

So they settled on Greece, a place new to them both, and, with some luck, managed to clear a full week on both of their calendars.

They had nearly reached the parking lot at Dulles — having already checked in with Jessica, Jack and Boo over the phone — when Emily’s phone pinged with a text message from JJ, “I’m so sorry.”

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

Before Aaron could question her, his phone rang, Chief Strauss’s number on the front screen. Panic flashed across both their faces before he reluctantly answered. Emily could hear brief snippets of the conversation as the pit in her stomach steadily widened.

“...apologize...New York...fourth suicide bomber in three weeks...escalating...need everyone…”

Once he hung up the phone, Aaron took the next exit off the highway, pulling up to the curb once it was safe to do so. They both sat in silence for an extended minute, disappointment heavy in the air. Finally, Emily attempted to break the tension, “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get the refundable tickets?”

Aaron let out a weak, sad chuckle and leaned over the center console to kiss her, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” before starting the car up again to head to the airstrip.

When they walked onto the plane, the team was uncharacteristically silent, looking on at their boss and colleague with poorly concealed apology, as though they were personally at fault for this unfortunate turn of events.

It took five days for the case to come to an end, the team finding the next bomber with minutes to spare, leading them to the ringleader of the group orchestrating the attacks. The date of their anniversary came and went, with nothing to mark the day except a quickie in the shower before they left their shared room. Objectively, both Aaron and Emily knew they had made the right decision, compulsory or not. Lives were saved, and the team functioned at their best when they were a complete set.

Still, while Aaron wrapped things up at the precinct after sending Emily back to the hotel, he couldn’t help but feel sorry that the first year of his marriage had passed in such a benign manner. As he drove back to the hotel, watching people shuffle and hustle about their weekend, an inkling of a plan formed and he picked up the phone to call JJ.

He found Emily in their room, her back turned to him as she hunched over the bed in the final stages of packing. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to admire her before asking, "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

She jumped a little, the close of the door too quiet for her to hear him walk in, then raised a brow at him. "Packing? Don't we have to be at the airport in an hour?"

"Change of plans." Aaron sauntered up to his wife, pulling her in by the waist so he could kiss her. "We're leaving tomorrow."

“Since when?”

"Since I decided that you and I deserve a night to ourselves." He chuckled softly at her confused expression, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry we couldn't get our time away. I thought we could spend the night out here instead. Celebrate the best year of my life with my beautiful wife."

She softened in his arms, molding herself to him as she pushed up on her toes and threaded her hands in his hair, kissing him breathless. “What about everyone else?” she asked, mouthing along his jaw, nosing the length of his neck.

The blood promptly rushed south from his head, a familiar occurrence anytime Emily’s hands ran over him as they were doing now. He swallowed, breathing in deeply to ensure he retained some semblance of control. "I told them to leave tonight; we could fly on our own tomorrow. But they offered to stay the night.”

She laughed against his throat, hot and ticklish on his skin, feeling almost giddy by this unforeseen development, “Okay then.” The hands on her hips tightened as she began kissing down to his chest, and she grinned up at him, lightly palming the front of his black slacks. “Are you sure you want to go out? We could just lock ourselves in here for the night.”

He narrowed his eyes, playfully pinching her cheek, “Cheeky, Mrs. Hotchner. But I have a plan and, tempting as you are, you will not sway me from it.” Knowing her go-bag always contained a nicer dress in case their work called for it, he added, “Now, get dressed,” swatting her ass lightly for good measure.

“Aaron, it’s Saturday night in New York City. You realize we’re not getting in anywhere halfway decent,” Emily pointed out while she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Ye of little faith, my dear wife. I told you, I have a plan.” Aaron also rid himself of his jacket and tie, replacing his shirt with a fresh white button-down and rolling up the sleeves. He went to clean himself up in the bathroom, and when he returned, he found his magnificent wife attempting to zip up a one-shoulder red dress. The same dress he’d slid off her shoulders in his bedroom after dinner on their first date. “Is that…”

"Would you believe I didn't plan this?" she grinned, turning her back to him. "Help me?"

Instead of doing as she asked, Aaron nudged the zipper, skating a knuckle up the length of her bare back and planting a kiss at the top of her spine.

“Aaron..." she breathed, tilting her head back against his, "if you don't cut that out, we're not leaving this room." He groaned into her neck, reluctantly admitting she was right, finally zipping her up and smoothing her hair back over her shoulder.

When they emerged outside their hotel ten minutes later onto the bustling streets of Midtown Manhattan, they walked the few blocks to Grand Central Station, just barely catching the subway headed downtown. Despite her initial doubts, Emily’s smile hadn’t left her, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Aaron led her by hand out of the subway when they reached their destination, climbing the stairs onto the southwest corner of Washington Square Park. The air was hot and muggy, New York in August, even as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. Music filtered through from the park, mixing with the din of the crowds enjoying the first stage of their evening.

“Do I get to know what we’re doing now?”

“Not yet. Come on, this way.”

They crossed the street, turned the corner, and Aaron finally stopped outside a red awning.

“Pizza?” Emily looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise as she took in the pizzeria.

“Or hot dogs, or Indian, or Greek, Italian, Vietnamese...We can go anywhere you want in the world in the next 10 blocks.”

She beamed up at him, catching onto his plan, and her grin was infectious. “Can we do them all?”

He laughed, “Lead the way.”

They started with pizza at Joe’s — a pepperoni slice for him and a Sicilian slice for her. Then a stuffed pita filled to the brim with fresh falafel, tomatoes, and hummus. A chicken tikka kati roll. And finally a shared plate of chicken and rice drizzled in white sauce from the halal food cart next to the park.

Their hands never strayed far from the other, the blissful anonymity of the city prompting more affectionate displays from both of them. Aaron stood behind her, hands on her hips or around her waist, as they waited in line. Emily ran her fingers through his hair as they sat on barstools, so smushed together from the crowd that she was practically sitting in his lap. They stood on the sidewalk waiting for their food to be prepared, their arms wrapped around each other and their lips moving together in languid kisses as if they had all the time in the world. To any stranger who could be bothered to look their way, they looked like any other couple smitten and blissfully in love, hiding every scar, hurdle, and hardship they had overcome to reach this point. Two figures floating amongst a sea of millions.

“I’m so full,” Emily moaned, clutching her stomach dramatically as they wandered hand-in-hand down Houston St. “I think you’ve killed me.”

“Not yet, sweetheart. We haven’t gotten to dessert.”

Two spoons and one cup of salted chocolate ice cream later, they made it back to the park, still lively as if the night had only just started. The marble archway was lit up, the Empire State Building in the distance peeking through the gap. People sat around the edge of the fountain, dipping their feet into the cool water.

Aaron and Emily walked through the students and artists and skateboarders and tourists, dipping intermittently into their shared dessert absorbing the infectious energy. They reached the other end of the park, stopping for a moment to watch a street performer, and turned down a new street, neither of them wanting the evening to come to an end.

The unmistakable sound of a piano floated out of a bar as two patrons exited, catching Emily by surprise as they walked past. She jerked to a stop, captivated, then tugged Aaron's hand to the door. He followed her lead, descending down a narrow flight of stairs that led into a darkened lounge. Tufted couches and armchairs in jewel-toned velvets lined the walls, dimly lit by rounded art deco sconces. Two bartenders seamlessly crafted elegant cocktails behind a lavish bar that took up the back wall. And in the center, a jazz quartet illuminated by a spotlight as couples swayed around them on a dance floor. Even in the dark, Aaron could see the way Emily's eyes lit up, entranced by this unexpected discovery, and he discreetly asked a waitress if they could be seated.

They nestled into the corner of an empty couch, Aaron's hand resting on Emily's knee as they both sipped their respective cocktails. Truthfully, he spent very little time watching the band, his eyes trained on his wife. He took in every secret smile, every small part of her lips when the melody soared to a peak. She was breathtaking, and she was his, and not for the first time in his life did he wonder how he had ever gotten quite so lucky.

The song shifted into something he recognized, a string of notes from the saxophone eliciting an audible gasp from Emily. He grasped her hand and tugged her up from the chair, smiling at the delight on her face. He pulled her in close, one hand low on her back, his cheek resting against hers, as they began to gently shift amongst the other couples.

After a minute, Emily’s voice came in whispers in his ear, her tongue curling beautifully over the French he couldn’t understand.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie

She pulled back in his arms, her gaze locking on his. A droplet tipped over her lash and onto her cheek. Her love for the man who held her — her husband, hers — bubbled and popped and diffused in her chest, filling her until she felt like she was floating. Aaron brought his hand up from her waist to her cheek, his thumb wiping away the errant drop on her skin with enough tenderness and adoration to warrant a fresh bout of tears.

Emily shakily rose to press her lips to his, tightening her hold of him, just as the song trailed to its conclusion. Applause erupted, but at that moment, the world around them didn’t exist.

“I love you, Aaron Hotchner.”

“And I love you.”

--

Song: La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf

Translation (thank you Google):

When he holds me in his arms He speaks to me softly I see life through rose-colored glasses

He speaks words of love to me Everyday words And that does something to me

He has entered into my heart A piece of happiness The cause of which I know It’s only him for me, and me for him, for life He said that to me, swore it forever

[commonwealthoccurences]

Companions React: Holding hands with Sole for the first time.

Request: "Hey I took a look at your other two stories and they're really good :D I can't wait to see more from you. ☺️ Could you do how the companions react to holding hands with sole for the first time? And could you make it extra fluffy for x6-88, preston, and hancock please? ❤️"

CW: Food mentions. Idk why so many of these involved food.

Cait:

“Hey! Watch it, will ya’?” Cait shouted indignantly at a passing trader as their Brahmin nearly knocked her over.

Sole reached out and pulled her back swiftly, her hand gripped tightly in theirs to help her keep balance. “Careful. They don’t tend to share the road around here. Important people, traders.” They joked, threading their fingers through hers.

“Important my arse.” Cait glared menacingly after the trader before redirecting their attention. “And what do ya think you’re doin’?” She lifted their joined hands, however she didn’t let go.

“Oh, sorry! I just wanted to make sure you didn’t lose your balance.”

Sole began to loosen their grip, but Cait tightened her grip in return. “Well don’t go gettin’ cold feet on me now. You started this.” 

Sole very politely ignored the slight flush on her cheeks as she began to pull them towards the food stands. “You’re buyin’ in exchange for my lovely company.”

Curie:

While it could be quite cute, Curie’s habit of wandering off in the name of scientific discovery had resulted in far too many moments of Sole having to stop what they were doing and go search for her and whatever had caught her attention in the moment as soon as they realized she was gone. Luckily, this time, Curie exclaimed, “Oh, mon dieu!”

This caught Sole’s attention and they quickly grasped her hand to keep her from wandering off. “Let’s go let Daisy know we’ve done what she’s asked and then we can go check out the water purification system, okay?”

“Oh! Of course.” Curie smiled warmly, interlocking their fingers properly. “Lead the way!”

After a beat, as they made their way to Daisy’s shop together, Curie spoke again, her tone softer and a shy smile on her face. “I quite like this system of keeping track of each other, I think.”

“I do, too. Do you want to stop by Diamond City for Power Noodles after asking about the water purification system?”

“Yes, please! I’d like to ask the vendor about the components to his operation.”

Danse:

Sole groaned, facedown on their bed on the Prydwen. “Let’s get a move on, Soldier. Elder Maxson himself requested you transfer shifts to the first patrol.”

“It’s four in the morning, Paladin. I appreciate Elder Maxson’s faith but I reserve my right to complain when he’s not around.”

Danse frowned from where he was standing in the doorway. “You should consider this an honor.”

“I do, Danse. Of course I do. But four in the morning?” Sole attempted to roll over and stand up, but instead got their legs tangled in the blanket and fell to the floor.

He sighed, staring down at them in mild disappointment. “Would you like assistance getting up?”

“Yes please.” 

Danse crossed the room and leaned down, grasping Sole’s outstretched arms and staring sternly at their pouting face. He pulled them up carefully, steadying them when they stumbled as they untangled themself from their blanket. “You slept in your uniform.” He stated plainly.

“I had to wake up at four as it is. I’m doing what I can. Adapt, right? I’m following your advice, Paladin. Now let’s go get breakfast, please, I’m starving.”

The pair made it halfway down the hall before Danse realized that Sole had never released their grip on his hand. His face flushed beet red as they led the way to the dining hall, the pathways empty. They seemed to be the only ones awake. “Soldier-” He coughed awkwardly. “-your hand?”

Sole slowed down and glanced at him. “Do you mind?”

He paused. “Proceed.” He said in a low tone, avoiding eye contact.

Deacon:

Deacon was quiet. Deacon was never quiet, unless they were in the middle of a fight, and even then usually he was making witty comments in between gunshots. He and Sole were trekking across the Commonwealth, headed to Sanctuary to rest after running to hell and back for the Railroad. “Alright, Deacon. What gives?” Sole stopped and turned to him.

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re quiet. You’re never quiet.”

“I’ll have you know I make a great brooding, mysterious stranger.” Deacon gave them an indignant look.

“Yeah, when you’re undercover maybe. But not with me. So what’s up?”

Deacon sighed and gave in, surprising Sole. Usually, no matter how long they pushed, he remained steeled in his self-confidence and energetic personality. “Just a long day, Boss. Don’t worry about it.” He started walking, letting them know the conversation was over with.

Sole pressed their lips together briefly before jogging to catch up with him and grabbing his hand, swinging it dramatically between the two. Deacon laughed quietly and allowed them to continue their antics. “You know, if you wanted to hold my hand you could’ve just asked, Boss.”

Cheerfully, Sole bumped their shoulder against his. “Where’s the fun in that? Plus, I got you to laugh, didn’t I?”

Deacon groaned. “My facade, it’s shattered!” He cried dramatically as he pretended to stumble. Sole threw their head back and laughed, and Deacon hid his grin.

“This is a very serious issue, Boss, I can’t believe your lack of professionalism.”

“Oh, of course, I’m so very sorry Deacon. Let me know what we can do to solve this issue and I’ll let go of your hand. To keep up professionalism.”

Deacon never got back to them on that, and kept his fingers threaded through theirs the entire way back to Sanctuary.

Gage:

“Look, I’m all for your gung ho attitude of dealing with things, but we’re outnumbered by those things. As much as it hurts to say, we shouldn’t run in guns ablaze.” Gage muttered under his breath.

He and Sole were crouched against a wall in the Nuka World Bottling Plant, up to their waists in diluted soda that had definitely been there way too long. A good handful of Mirelurks had nested just around the corner; Sole could hear them clicking their pinchers together. “You’re right.” Sole sighed. “We need a plan to get back to the exit.”

Gage was still surprised every time the Overboss took his advice seriously. “We’re cornered here, Boss. Unless you have some Stealth Boys on you-”

“Do you trust me?” Sole interjected.

“Christ, I guess so. What’re you thinkin’?”

“When I count to three we run.”

“What? That’s your fuckin’ plan?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“I swear to God, if you get us killed.” Gage muttered. “Alright, fine.”

Sole counted under their breath, just loud enough for Gage to hear, as they attempted to avoid the echo that the large tunnels would cause. As soon as they reached three, both they and Gage took off in a sprint, fighting against the soda-water that threatened to slow them down. Things were going great until Gage’s foot caught against something under the water and sent him face first into the river.

As soon as he hit the water he was back up again, Sole yanking him as hard as possible up and forward at their breakneck pace. “I’ve got you!” They shouted over the angry screeches from the Mirelurks that had just caught sight of them.

Sole grappled at his hand until they found purchase and kept charging forward. They sent a shot towards an approaching Mirelurk and the bullet lodged firmly in the Mirelurk’s body. This bought them enough time to get a few feet ahead and after a brief struggle with the sticky door mechanism, the pair launched themself past the frame and slammed the door behind them.

Chests heaving, they leaned against the metal door, eyes squinted to ward off the blazing sun that glared down at them. “I fuckin’ hate this place.” Gage spat saliva and soda down onto the cracked pavement in front of them.

Sole merely laughed. Gage turned to them in astonishment, wondering just how batshit the new Overboss really was, but said nothing, his hand still gripped in theirs. Their eyes were closed as their shoulders shook, their chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath. “I do too, to be honest. Hated it ever since that stupid maze.”

Gage paused and let out a small chuckle himself. He shook off their hand as casually as he could, but turned and reached to light a cigarette to hide the way his mouth quirked up in the corner. He dug through the bag attached to his hip before cursing loudly. “My shit’s soaked!”

Sole only laughed louder.

Hancock:

“Y’know, sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Running Goodneighbor.” Hancock’s voice came out gravelly.

He and Sole had found a rooftop to settle on after travelling for the day. They had found a couple of lounge chairs and dragged them up the flights of stairs, and told Hancock to sit while they unpacked enough food for dinner. Luckily, they had traded for a few Radstag steaks, which they had started grilling over a makeshift fire. Hancock’s statement caught their attention enough for them to stop what they were doing. “What do you mean?” They asked.

Hancock wasn’t sure if he was too high for his own good, but he swore their voice was softer when they spoke to him, compared to the assertiveness they used for everyone else. He leaned back in his chair and surveyed them. The fire flickered, a bright, warm contrast to the setting sun behind them. “Dunno. I just worry that I’m gettin’ a little top stern with everyone. Goodneighbor isn’t meant to be another Diamond City.”

They thought for a moment, their eyebrows creased. Hancock couldn’t help the way he smiled as he watched them turn the steaks over contemplatively. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Always, sweetheart.”

Sole suppressed their own smile. “I think a good leader would listen to his people and their opinions. A great leader goes out and gains perspective to truly understand what they go through and where they’re coming from. You do both, so I think that makes you a fantastic leader.” They stood from where they were crouching next to the fire and moved to sit next to him.

The sun crept lower on the horizon. They reached over and took his hand to get his attention, not knowing it was hard for Hancock to focus on anything other than them. “I mean it, Hancock. Really. Not many people these days pay as much attention as you do. The fact that you decided to take a step back to make sure you were doing right by your people proves that.”

“Careful, now, you’ll make me blush with all that flattery.”

They laughed quietly but didn’t respond. As the evening quieted further, the birds no longer chirped but settled into their nests and the sun nearly set, they began to swipe their thumb back and forth over the back of Hancock’s hand. Carefully, they raised their entwined hands and pressed their lips to his knuckles. “You trying to flatter me more?” Hancock kept his tone cautiously flirtatious.

Sure, he flirted with them some. Okay, a lot. But never had he thought they would take him seriously, much less respond in kind. Not that he was complaining. “Is it working?” They asked quietly, their lips brushing against his rough skin as they spoke, looking up at him through their lashes. Jesus Christ, they were gonna be the death of him.

“Dunno yet. Why don’t you keep trying and I’ll get back to you on that.”

Hancock wasn’t sure whether it was the Jet or the grin that spread across their face that made him so lightheaded.

MacCready:

“Relax, Mac. We’re just a couple of Settlers.” Sole said quietly, their tone soothing.

They had insisted on doing a bit of recon on the Gunners once they had gotten intel that they were coming to Diamond City for supplies. Mac was positive they were going to be called out at any moment. After all, the Gunners had probably put word out to all of their factions that he was on their watchlist.

Sole had given him completely different clothes, mussed up his hair, and provided a bandana to hide most of his face in order for him to blend in. Lucky for them, there had been a nasty dust storm just yesterday and they weren’t the only ones hiding their faces. They had seated themselves at Power Noodles and begun watching for the Gunners.

As soon as they arrived Mac tensed. He wasn’t one for acting, that was Deacon’s job from what he’d heard, and knowing that people who were out for his blood were so close had him on edge. A few minutes passed as a pair of Gunners made their way to the counter and ordered before sitting and chatting. Sole kept their eyes on MacCready, but it was obvious to him their attention was directed to the conversation taking place behind them.

It was clear to them MacCready wasn’t gonna last much longer, and they didn’t blame him. They’d heard stories about the Gunners and what they were willing to do to get their way. His body language was becoming more and more obvious the longer they sat there before Sole snapped their attention back to him and nodded. It was time to go, they got what they wanted. They slid off their stool casually and slid their hand into Mac’s to get his attention.

He flushed under his bandana but followed suit, hopping off his stool and allowing them to lead him towards the back of the stands. Their hands were distractingly soft and as the distance between them and the Gunners grew he felt himself relax a bit more. They stopped him once they had reached the stands and no one was in sight.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet and Sole squeezed his hand sympathetically.

MacCready felt himself blush again and squeezed their hand back before letting go. “Uh- I. Thanks. For that.” He looked away from them and scratched the back of his neck.

“Anytime, Mac.”

‘Do you mean that?’ He almost asked, biting his tongue to stop himself. It was just to blend in and get him away from the Gunners. Right?

Nick:

It was nearly midnight and Nick, not needing sleep, was still filling out paperwork. Sole had insisted they were going to stay up with him to help, but they were obviously nodding off to his left. He sighed and set down his pencil, turning towards them. “You know you can go rest.” He had repeated this about ten times already that night.

Sole’s voice was groggy when they replied, “No, I said I would help.”

Nick stood from his chair and gathered a few files. He knew the only way they would go to bed is if he dragged them there himself and implied that he was done working for the night. “Look, you can head to bed, I’m going to put these where they belong and then go read.”

Sole cracked one of their eyes open and then shook their head. They pressed their fingertips to their eyes before blinking rapidly and picking up their pencil, beginning to reread what they had written so far. Nick held out his hand over their paper, directly in their line of sight. “Go to bed, Sole. You can barely stay awake.”

Grumbling to themself, Sole took his hand and allowed him to help them up. He led their stumbling figure to their bed, which he had gotten specifically for nights like this. He kept their hand in his to help them balance as they reached down and tugged their shoes off, then plopped down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. Their voice was quiet when they asked, “Stay? I-” They stopped themselves from explaining.

It had been a brutal week and they’d had a few close calls. It dawned on him. Of course they didn’t want to sleep; they didn’t want to be alone. Nick nodded and didn’t let go of their hand as they laid back and he settled into the armchair beside their bed. Their breaths evened out swiftly and he settled the stack of files in his lap, returning to fill out the files with his available hand.

Piper:

“Knock knock!” Sole called into the Publick Occurrences building as they stepped in.

Nat leapt up from where she and Piper were sitting on the couch and barreled into Sole, flinging her arms around their waist. “Hey Nat.” They laughed, hugging her tightly.

“Hey Sole, what brings you to our part of the Commonwealth? Picking up some goods from Myrna?” Piper got up from the couch, moving to greet her friend.

“You didn’t tell her?” They asked Nat.

Nat shook her head sheepishly. “Ask me what?” Piper’s tone grew suspicious.

“I was gonna take her for lunch and told her to ask you if it was alright.” 

Piper raised an eyebrow at Nat. “I forgot.” She muttered, gaze directed at the floor.

“Tell you what. Let’s all go, I’ll buy. It gives you a chance to take a break from editing, Piper.” 

Piper found it hard to say no in face of Sole’s easygoing grin. She nodded her assent and slipped her shoes on, watching as Sole helped Piper into her coat, fondness overtaking her stern expression. “Are we ready?” They asked cheerfully.

“Looks like it. Nat, hold Sole’s hand for safety, okay? There’s been a lot of new traders coming in and we don’t need you getting lost.”

“What about you?” Sole asked jokingly. “I’d better hold onto you, too, I’d hate to lose you.”

Piper stammered, suddenly finding interest in the dirt on her boots. “Oh. Uh- yeah. I mean- yeah, that’s fine. Sure.”

Sole’s grin grew as they headed out. As soon as the door was locked behind them, they took Piper’s hand and the trio made their way across Diamond City for their meal. Piper never really got her ability to form sentences back while her hand was in Sole’s. Safely.

Preston:

“Where are we headed, General?” Preston asked, striding to stand next to them.

Sole had put out word that they wanted to see Preston for ‘something extremely important’ earlier that morning and had requested he find her later in the evening in the garden. The garden was a great source of pride for Sole, as they had built the thriving area quite literally from the ground up. They stood near the fence, rinsing tatos under the faucet, and glanced up when Preston spoke. “Good to see you, Preston. Let me finish this up and then we can head inside.” 

Truth be told, he was nervous. Sole was usually quite direct with why they wanted to see him, but it seemed they had remained intentionally vague. He was sure they were headed somewhere, possibly to help out another settlement, but that didn’t explain why they weren’t communicating their motives like they usually did.

He shifted uncertainly as they finished rinsing the tatos, piled them in their basket, and moved towards the garden gate. Preston jumped to action and pulled it open for them, anxious to do something. He followed them quietly as they moved to the connected house and pulled open the door. They gestured him inside before they led him to the kitchen and set the basket down. He began to wonder what to do with himself when they asked, “Have you had pasta before. Not Power Noodles, but pasta?”

“Um… what?” Preston stared at them in confusion. “No, I can’t say I have.”

“Come here, I’ll teach you how to make it.”

“Of course, but I have to ask General, why did you want to see me?”

Sole smiled. “You deserve a night off. You’ve been working hard lately- it didn’t escape my notice -and I figured you wouldn’t take a break if I didn’t give you something else to do. So I’ll teach you how to make pasta. We just harvested razorgrain today, so there’s plenty.”

So Preston stepped into their kitchen, a little more certain of himself with that weight off his shoulders, and listened intently as they gave him instructions. They ground the razorgrain into a fine powder with Sole’s makeshift mortar and pestle, split a Mirelurk egg in half, and added it to the flour. As they continued their pasta-making-mission, Skeeter Davis’ voice rang out quietly from the nearby radio, and Preston found himself more at ease than he had been in a while.

The evening moved swiftly into night as the pair sat on Sole’s couch, trading stories over their home cooked meal. Passing settlers turned as Sole’s laughter rang out through the air every now and then, Preston’s following soon after each time. The conversation lasted long into the night before the pair grew quiet and simply listened to the crackling fire that kept the evening chill at bay.

Sole reached out carefully and interlocked their fingers with Preston’s, catching his attention as he glanced from their hands to their face, eyes wide. “Is this okay?” They asked quietly.

Preston nodded and squeezed their hand, an infectious smile crossing his face, to which Sole began smiling as well. Sole began telling another story of their adventures as Preston sunk back into the couch. He’d felt a little selfish thinking it, but he understood why people enjoyed taking breaks.

X6-88:

“I hate it. Six, this is awful.” Sole gripped the rail that lined the glass walkway at the very top of the Institute, staring down in horror.

“The pathways were built to Institute standards. They are perfectly sound.” X6 replied patiently, having gone through this before.

“It’s glass! I don’t trust it. There’s a reason I’ve never come up here! The lower walkways are bad enough.”

X6 stifled his impatience before reaching out and prying their hands off the railing. “Six!” They cried, grasping onto his hand desperately.

He pulled them closer to him, putting his arm around their shoulders with their hand still firmly attached to his, and began guiding them towards the elevator at the end of the pathway. Externally, as usual, he had set his face in a stern expression. However, he found himself suppressing a sense of smug satisfaction at the turn of events.

Once they reached the elevator, he forced himself to begin unwinding himself from Sole. As soon as he began loosening his grip and lifting his arm, Sole grabbed back onto him. “Not yet.” They stared down, just as tense, as the elevator began descending slowly. X6 didn’t protest, and settled his arm back onto their shoulders, their hand gripped firmly in his.

[let-the-dream-begin]

A Family of Our Own

After nearly nine years of being a widow, Claire has Jamie back in her arms and in her life. After a lifetime of stories, Brianna’s father is a real, living man. The family at Lallybroch must prepare to welcome visits from the English to check in with the former prisoner. They cannot afford any slip-ups; if Mister Malcolm is revealed to be Red Jamie, Claire’s widowhood will be restored. Permanently this time.

Claire cannot survive another pregnancy, and she and Jamie do feel that absence, a loss of sorts. Yet their little family grows in a way none of them expect.

Brianna’s illness remains an ever-present fear for Claire, and now Jamie, as he learns how to grapple with it. Can they keep a lid on it for the rest of her life? A story of second chances, of found family, and hope in the face of fear and uncertainty.

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

“It’s like flying!” she cried over the pounding of hooves and rushing of wind. “Aye, Da?”

“Aye, lass!” he called back, his stomach flipping with joy. “Indeed i’tis!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Fergus and Claire occasionally blur into his field of view, but he could hardly see anything but the fiery tendrils dancing in front of his eyes, could hardly process anything over the whooping laughter of his daughter.

His heart physically ached with how deeply he loved her.

Her joy was putting a light inside of him that he did not think existed, was bringing to life something that he had thought long gone. He’d expressed to Claire that he did not think he could connect with children anymore, that his spirit had been too broken beyond repair.

But Brianna was putting his spirit back together, and she wasn’t even trying. All she had to do was squint up at him with that gap-toothed smile, or shake her head so that her curls bounced, or cry out with joy on her horse.

She was making him whole again.

My beautiful, sweet, cheeky, perfect lass. My flesh and blood. My daughter.

——

That night, Jamie led Claire out of the girls’ bedroom after having tucked Brianna in. She was out like a light after the first few minutes of Jamie’s story. They’d ridden hard and long today, and it was one of the happiest days of Jamie’s life.

He could not wrap his mind around the fact that this was his. This child, this wife, this life, was all his. He had the rest of his days to ride horses with his daughter, to tuck her in at night, to watch her fight sleep in a desperate attempt to hear her father’s voice for just a little bit longer.

His voice. She cherished his voice.

He had the rest of his days to take his wife by the hand and lead her down the hall into their bedroom.

And now that the mugwort had been delivered to them from Edinburgh, he had the rest of his life to lay her down and bed her properly.

She’d made herself a cup of tea with it after supper, finishing it on the edge of Brianna’s bed, her head on his shoulder, sipping intermittently. She’d take a cup every day with breakfast and after supper, and she’d be protected from any harm another child might bring.

Another child…

No, he would not let that thought in.

There was absolutely no question; Claire’s life mattered more than having more bairns. And having his life back was a miracle enough in itself.

He would not allow himself to think on how sad it would be to take her to his bed and then watch her drink away any life he might have planted in her. There was no point in following that trail of thought, so follow it he would not.

Or at least he’d try not to.

The trail was abruptly caught off, anyway, when Claire shut their bedroom door behind them and threw herself at him, kissing him mercilessly.

“I want you inside me all bloody night,” she muttered breathlessly against his mouth. He groaned in response, pressing his pelvis into hers involuntarily. They undressed each other clumsily, frantically. They’d had weeks to revel in the act, to appreciate each piece of skin as it was revealed to them anew, so tonight was not for reveling. Not until he’d pressed inside her at last.

He’d used her mouth in all sorts of positions, used the cheeks of her arse, even her breasts, Claire holding them tight around him. He’d made note of all these things, not wanting to abandon them completely once they were no longer the only option.

But tonight, he would have her.

Once they were finally, finally completely naked, Jamie picked her up and carried her to bed with her legs wrapped around his waist, kissing her sloppily with every step. She’d barely even landed on the mattress before she was clawing at his arse.

“Do it now.”

He needn’t be told twice. He lined himself up and thrust hard and deep. Claire screamed, digging her nails into him, throwing her head back, shutting her eyes. Christ, it was almost too much. He had to stay still or he’d lose it immediately.

And he’d promised to make it last all night. Dammit, he’d do so.

She dug her heels into him, begging him to move, but to keep hold on himself, he roughly kneaded her breasts, bit her neck, tweaked the bud between her legs. She squeaked and moaned, but she fiercely grabbed his face in her hands.

“I’m going to die if you don’t start fucking me, Jamie.”

He groaned with a shudder, nearly losing it again.

“God, Claire…” He pulled out the slightest bit, and upon reentering, she cried out hoarsely. “It’s too much...It’s been too long...I canna…”

“I don’t care!” she cried. “I don’t care if you spill in three seconds...I need...I need you…”

With another shuddering groan, Jamie let all of his restraint go, and he pummeled into her, over and over. He lasted longer than he’d thought he would, though it was really not long at all.

“Take me with you…” Claire moaned, clawing down his biceps.

Evidently, she was as overwrought as he was if she was ready to follow so soon. 

He touched their foreheads together, looking into her eyes as he redoubled his speed and brought his hand between them to touch her where he knew she needed most.

“Oh, Claire…” he muttered against her lips. Her keening reached its peak in volume and pitch, and then she stiffened with a harsh cry, clenching around him. God, it had been nearly nine years since he’d felt the bliss of her tightening and pulling him deeper into her… 

He spilled into her immediately, moaning loudly into her wide, open mouth. He saw stars for a long while, the only feeling her walls around his softening cock, the only sound her continued mewling in his ear. He came back to himself in pieces, feeling first her heels, still dug into his arse, then her hands, caressing his face with all the tender gentleness in the world.

He opened his eyes to see her staring at him, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. He kissed her temples, brushing the tears away with his lips, and with a cry, she threaded her arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer, weeping into the crook of his neck.

“I’m here,” he said gently. He held himself up on his elbows, not willing to abandon the warmth of her just yet to hold her properly. He couldn’t even if he wanted to; all her limbs clung to him with a fierceness that he did not want to fight.

“I’m here.” His voice became hoarse, suddenly overcome as she was.

When his arms began losing feeling from holding himself up, he took hold of her waist and flipped them so that he was on his back, pulling her onto his chest. He slid out of her in the process, but her arms remained around his neck, as did her legs around his waist, now straddling him.

“It was so real…” Claire finally spoke, her voice muffled with her tears. “So many nights I dreamed...and it never felt like that…”

He pressed a tender kiss to her neck, running his hands up and down her back.

“Aye. My own hands dinna compare to the feel of ye, Sassenach.”

She wept harder at that, clinging tighter. “I never even...all those years...I couldn’t...I tried, I really did...but the one time I...got myself there...I just...broke down and cried with my hand still between my legs.” She shook her head against him. “It felt so pathetic...it hurt more than it was worth.”

“Hush now, mo ghraidh,” he soothed. “That’s over now.”

He showered her head with kisses, and when she finally picked her head up, he captured her lips in a way that seared her to her core. God, she wished men were more like women; she wanted to sink down onto him and ride him into oblivion already. But his body was not ready for that yet.

She knew what she could ride into oblivion, however.

After swirling her tongue with his for a maddening amount of time, feeling Jamie’s and her own wetness trailing down her thighs, she dragged herself up Jamie’s body and straddled his face.

“Oh, lass…” He reverently caressed her arse, and she braced herself on the headboard. He peppered her inner thighs with kisses until she was trembling, and then he feasted.

Claire cried herself hoarse, white knuckled the headboard, and ground herself into his face until she fell apart, pulled to pieces by the expertness of his tongue and lips. It was a powerful, euphoric orgasm, but it did the opposite of leave her satisfied. All it did was leave her aching for Jamie’s cock to be the next thing to pull her apart.

After her hips slowed and she caught her breath as much as she would allow herself, she slid back down and reached.

“Ah,” she said, grasping him firmly, already half hard. “There you are.”

She stroked him fully back to life, and before he could even breathe, she sank down onto him with a low groan. She rode him slowly, deliberately, deliciously. She bent down, hovering over his lips with hers, and she pushed all her hair to one side.

“Still feel like you’ll spill in three seconds?” she purred.

He chuckled darkly. “Well, I intend to be inside ye all bloody night,” he said. “So I dinna think I will.”

He wasn’t inside her all night, but he was for at least another two hours. He let her ride him until he couldn’t stand it anymore, and then he threw her off him, got her on all fours, and took her forcefully from behind until he was seconds away from climax. He took her with her bottom half lifted off the mattress, her ankles crossed behind his neck, he took her sitting up, facing one another, kissing gratuitously, then on all fours again. But he only let himself finish when they were once again facing each other, eyes locked, foreheads touching. Claire lost count after her sixth orgasm, but needless to say, she’d been well taken care of.

It also went without saying that she would not be able to walk tomorrow.

They fell asleep with little ceremony after Jamie’s second climax and Claire’s...however many she’d had. Claire felt like she was made entirely of jell-o, and she didn’t open her eyes again after squeezing them shut for her final orgasm. Jamie, however, was not too tired to tuck her limp form into his side like a ragdoll and kiss her sweaty head.

It was almost as if he couldn’t sleep without holding her so tightly.

“I love you, Claire.”

And though every ounce of breath was knocked out of her, and she’d screamed herself hoarse, Claire’s heart answered back, beating wildly, swelling, entwining with his.

And for the first time in nearly nine years, Claire fell into a deep, peaceful, dreamless sleep with a smile on her face.

——

Claire could see a gradual change in Jamie the longer he was home. As April settled over the grounds, so too did an easiness in Jamie’s disposition, tension slowly rolling off his shoulders. He’d been slow at retaining the names of all of Jenny’s bairns; wee Jamie and Maggie were easy enough, since he’d known them, and Michael was similarly easy, him being the only other lad, but he was always calling Janet Kitty, and Kitty Janet, much to both girls’ chagrin. Lately, he was getting it right more often than not, and Claire could see both her nieces glowing with pride that their uncle, becoming beloved rather instantaneously, remembered them.

Brianna, too, was more than completely enamored with Jamie. She often refused to do chores with the women and girls, preferring to trail behind Jamie in the fields and the stables. Jenny was none too pleased about this; the woman was set in her ways what was man’s work and what was woman’s work, but Claire could not see any harm in letting the girl spend time with her father.

She’d been without that time for eight years, and Claire could not bring herself to take it away from her again.

Either way, Jamie claimed she was quite helpful in the fields. According to his reports, she was always coming up with ways to make work easier, little tools that he and the other lads never would have thought of. Recently, she’d been marching downstairs for supper with a sketch in her hands.

“D’ye think you could make this one, Da?” she’d say, thrusting the sketch up to him.

“I’ll try my best, lass. But only if ye’re by my side while I do.”

“Of course, Da. I have to make sure ye’re doing it right.”

She was awfully brilliant for eight years old, if Claire did say so herself, and the sketches were quite good and elaborate. She’d be a great talent someday. She used to fret that she’d never catch up to Maggie in skill and ability, but she really was getting there, closer and closer with each passing day.

She’d gotten particularly fond of sketching wee Ian for some reason. Brianna had never been particularly drawn to any of the babies; not like Maggie had. But she was becoming a little obsessed, and Claire would be lying if she said she didn’t find it absolutely adorable.

Watching Jamie become more and more comfortable in his own home, on his own land, around his own family, was bittersweet. On the one hand, Claire basked in it, rejoicing in his rejoining of all that he had missed, but on the other hand, it was terribly sad that he had to relearn everything to begin with. This land was once his, theirs. No longer was he Laird; now he was Mister Malcolm, a farmhand. Of course the tenants knew better, but they could not speak openly about this. He could not even claim Brianna as his. The redcoats thought she belonged to Jenny and Ian. And though this fact hardly affected how they lived their daily lives, Claire could see him deflate every time it was mentioned.

But, this Lord Grey who’d secured Jamie’s freedom had been true to his word. They’d been entirely free of redcoat harassment since Jamie’s return, so they had little to worry about in that regard either way. Claire was eager to meet the man, to thank him for all his many kindnesses. The thought of Brianna never again living through the fear of a home search, the thought of Ian never even remembering one ever having happened…it made her heart light.

Life was truly starting anew…for everyone.

Jenny and Claire were in the kitchen with Mary MacNab, putting the finishing touches on supper, when a cacophony of noise startled the three women. Claire wiped her hands on her apron and pushed open the kitchen door to the outside, and her eyes welled up with tears at the simple sight before her.

Brianna was sat atop Jamie’s shoulders like a little queen, Jamie holding securely onto her small thighs. Fergus strode right beside them, young Michael on his shoulders, likely jealous of Jamie’s special attention to Brianna. Jehu trotted along dutifully at Jamie’s feet, ever mindful of his young mistress. Young Jamie trailed a bit behind, swiping at long grass and heather with a stick, and Ian trailed a bit further behind, taking his time. Janet and Kitty had been running around front with the dogs, and they clambered toward them, and Maggie trailed behind with the sketchpad Jamie had made her, holding her drawings close to her chest as Jehu yipped and nipped at their heels.

Janet clung to Ian’s good leg, and to spare his brother from bearing the weight, Jamie scooped the girl up onto his hip, switching his grip on Brianna to one hand. Janet kissed her father, then her uncle, and Kitty took Ian’s hand, patiently keeping pace with him

“Look, Uncle!” Maggie cried, turning the page up to face him. “Look, I drew the dogs. D’ye see?”

“Och, that’s fine work, lass,” Jamie said proudly. “Ye’ll have to let me look closer over supper, aye?”

“Aye!” she beamed, pressing the book to her chest again.

“Ye’re a braw wee thing,” Jamie continued. “Take right after yer mother.”

Maggie nodded proudly, her smile brightening.

Claire wiped her eyes and sniffled, and she was suddenly aware of a presence beside her.

“Such a simple thing,” Jenny said, her voice tight with her own emotion. “But it means everything.”

Claire nodded. “Everything.”

Jenny rubbed her back. “Go on to them,” she said gently. “We’re almost done anyway.”

Claire untied her apron and handed it off to Jenny, a beaming smile finding its way across her face. She gathered her skirts in her hands and began running toward the throng, propelled further by Brianna’s joyous, “Mummy!”

Jamie let Janet slide down to the ground and picked up his pace, leaving the Murrays and Fergus behind to meet Claire halfway.

“Hello, darlings,” Claire said breathlessly, kissing Jamie deeply until Brianna tugged impatiently on her curls. She laughed as she craned her neck to look at her. “How’s the crop looking today?”

“Just fine,” Brianna said. “My tool is working great.”

“That’s excellent.” Claire stood on tiptoe to pinch Brianna’s cheek, and then Jamie wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as they continued their way to the house.

“Ye smell like dinner, Sassenach,” he breathed in her hair, then kissed her temple.

“You smell like manure and body odor.” She wrinkled her nose, but snuggled in closer to him anyway. “I don’t even want to know what you smell like, young lady.”

“I smell just fine, thank you very much!”

Claire rolled her eyes; Brianna was using that posh voice of hers to mock her mother’s tone and concern.

“No you do not!” A voice sounded behind them, and then Fergus was beside them, Michael still on his shoulders. “You smell like a dirty man, ma petit.” Brianna blew a raspberry at him, and Michael giggled incessantly. “And so do you, little man.”

“Either way,” Claire cut in, “you’ll be getting a bath tonight. And you should too, young man.” Fergus deflated only slightly in that way that teenagers who feel they are being mothered too intensely do.

Brianna groaned, slumping forward over Jamie’s head. “I don’t want a bath.”

“But don’t you like it when I brush your beautiful hair?” Claire looked up at her. “Doesn’t it feel so nice when it’s fresh and clean and damp?”

This gave Brianna pause, and she picked up her head slightly. “I suppose.”

Jamie snorted at Brianna’s chosen phrase.

“Alright. How about a quick bath and then a long hair brushing.”

She sighed in defeat. “Alright, Mummy.”

Jamie bounced her a bit, and she giggled, sitting up again. “That’s a good lass.”

Claire sighed in contentment, kissed Jamie’s jaw, his stubble a shadow over half his face, and they crossed the threshold for supper with their family.

[purpletaecup]

10 ☾ he said that’s how he still remembers me

warnings: explicit language (cursing), mentions of miscarriage, mentions of infidelity (not rlly but on thin ice)

notes: you guys... this is a long one and it’s kind of fast paced, but we are finally getting some answers and the drama really begins! next chapter will be emotional, that’s all I know. I’m sorry for putting you through all this angst!! also, I wanted to bring some attention to the crisis in the Philippines right now with all of the dangerous typhoons. A lot of people need donations and rescuing, so HERE is a link to a twitter thread of donation drives! Please make sure to check it out, share and help spread awareness!

as always, come talk to me in my ask box! and if you want to be added to the taglist, please send an ask, or reply to this post or the masterlist!

not edited!! sorry if there are any mistakes lmfao i usually am sleep deprived when i write so yeah, there are probably some errors.

word count: 5,614

☾

The days following Jungkook’s visit were dull, if anything. You’ve received texts from Yoongi saying that he couldn’t come visit until that weekend because he had to finish wrapping things up in advance at the company so that he could spend some time with you. You had argued over the phone like teenagers when you insisted that he didn’t need to do that and you could take care of yourself until Jin came back. Of course, that led to him ranting about what the doctor said about monitoring you and your symptoms for concussion and to get him to just shut up about the medical stuff (it made your brain hurt more than it did usually), you reluctantly agreed to his ‘visits’, as you’d rather call them.

[nov. 20, 2020]

It was Friday now and you still haven’t gotten any glimpse of actual memories back, although you have been having these strange dreams that you couldn’t really remember when you woke up. You could only describe the feeling it gave you as ‘sinking’, like you were drowning and you couldn’t escape. As much as possible, you tried not to think about these feelings, and focused more on trying to get to know the version of you who lived in this amazing apartment.

The past couple of days that you spent at this apartment put you in awe. It really was the apartment of your dreams, from the color of the furniture down to the little plants stuck in the corner of that tiny shelf in the kitchen. It was beautiful and so you. The only problem was that you couldn’t find anything to help with your current situation. You scoured every nook and cranny and couldn’t find anything dated after your wedding reception. No pictures, no post-its, notes or anything past that date. What you had found in your apartment, you already knew of (aside from the wedding photos). Past photoshoots, high school photos, a notebook full of movie ticket stubs. There was absolutely nothing in this apartment that gave you a clue to the life you lived during the four year gap in your memory.

You even tried to get into your twitter and instagram from when you were nineteen but you couldn’t log in. Wrong password every single time. When you tried to change your password for social media, the email you used had a different password too. You couldn’t figure out what you could have changed your password to. Every password combination you could think of, you tried, but none worked, so you decided to just skip that and maybe go over it later on. Or make a new one. That could work, too.

You couldn’t even look at your twitter account because for some reason, it was private and that seemed strange for someone with almost 130,000 followers. You could see your instagram account from your browser, but it wouldn’t let you see the pictures and posts in full size with the captions and comments, so you were really stuck.

A quick internet search of your name yielded things you already knew. Former model, current writer (that fact was still surprising to you). Old news articles of dating scandals that weren’t true, except for the one with Yoongi. More news articles about your divorce with no further information than what Yoongi had told you already.

It’s as if any clue about your life during your memory loss is unaccounted for. It seemed like at this point, you could only rely on other people telling you about your life and pray to whatever higher power there was to give you your memories back.

This futile search was beginning to make your stomach churn. You almost couldn’t suppress the bile rising up in your throat. Hopefully Jin would return soon. Maybe he could put all of the pieces back together for you.

☾

Jungkook sat in on the uncomfortable leather couch in Yoongi’s office as he waited for the man to finish up whatever he was typing. He looked through his instagram feed and saw one of your posts from July. For a while, he was confused as to why this picture from July would end up on his feed, but he remembered the new instagram algorithm. Curious, he clicked on your profile and looked through it slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually paid attention to your posts.

“I forgot to ask but what did you and Yn do at her apartment? She said you stayed over for a couple of hours.” Yoongi asked though his eyes never strayed from his paperwork.

Jungkook looked up at him and pondered on what to say.

“Hm, yeah. I got roped into staying. She asked a bunch of questions and we looked through her apartment and her photo albums. Her apartment’s cute, by the way. Way different from what your house looked like.” He comments.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was bright. Lots of green. Nothing I’ve ever seen in the house you guys shared.”

“How was she when you picked her up? She told me a couple of things but I haven’t seen her yet so I can’t know if what she’s telling is the truth or not.”

It was quiet for a moment, with only the sound of turning pages filling the room, as Jungkook wondered what to say to this. He didn’t really know when to start with you, especially with how different you were acting.

“Well, she’s fine. The personality is definitely different. She seems a lot more outgoing, and she had a lot of questions but she didn’t push. I think she wants to try and figure things out on her own.” Jungkook replies as he continued to slowly look through your previous instagram posts.

“She’s been like that. She hates being a burden and gets really defensive about it sometimes.” Yoongi comments.

Jungkook pauses at your most recent post. He checks the date. September 22.

“When did you guys divorce again?” He asked.

At this, Yoongi looked up.

“The divorce was finalized on September 29, I think.” He answered, but looked questioningly at Jungkook as if to ask why.

“Did you know she was going to therapy?” Jungkook asked again.

Hearing this, Yoongi stood up abruptly and hurried over to where Jungkook was sitting.

“What? Where did you see that?” Yoongi asked as he looked over Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook showed him the post. Yoongi took the phone from him and examined the post carefully.

It was a picture of clouds with text on it. Is this the life we really want? The caption read “as per the advice of my therapist, i’m just here to pop in and say that I’ll be going on a hiatus for a little bit”.

“What the fuck? I didn’t know this!” Yoongi yelled, evidently angry.

Jungkook looked at him confused. They were together for four years, how could he not know that you were at least going to therapy?

The same question was running through Yoongi’s head. He took a seat next to Jungkook to process this new information.

“Hyung, can I ask you a couple of questions?” Jungkook requested.

Yoongi could only nod.

“What was Yn like when you were together? Why did you marry her?” Those were the first questions that came out of Jungkook’s mouth.

He was truly, genuinely curious. Though he’s heard some things that Yoongi had said about you, he never knew the full story.

“We married each other because we loved each other. Wasn’t that obvious?” Yoongi retorted.

Jungkook pursed his lips at this. “Well that's what you tell everybody and yeah we get it, but considering the fact that I’ve barely seen you two together more than two handful of times in the past two years, I had to ask.”

“That’s because we were both busy, but that didn’t mean we didn’t spend time together. Of course you never saw it because you weren’t there and I’m not one to actively talk about my love life. Yn and I both liked our privacy.”

“Okay, then what was she like when you were together?”

Yoongi was quiet for a while. There were a lot of things he could say about you when you were together. He just didn’t know how to articulate it to Jungkook.

“When we were together… she was charismatic, beautiful and intelligent. Something about the way she communicated made you feel like you could forget about all of your worries and live life to its extent with her. She constantly dragged me out to picnics and made me forget about the business and my career. She made me feel young again. And she had so much love and care for people around her. For a long time, I felt like I would never be deserving of her. She was kind of like a sunflower. Or sunshine, you know what I mean?” Yoongi poured out.

Jungkook nodded. He realized that this was the time to try to figure out what happened to you in your marriage. From his conversation with you at your apartment, to the description of you that Yoongi had just given, he surmised that the version of you that he knew was someone different and he could only wonder if Yoongi saw it too.

“Did you ever feel like she changed? In the time you guys were together?” He probed.

Yoongi thought about it for a while.

“Yeah, I think so. I always found it strange that she decided to quit modelling.  When I met her, she said it was all she ever wanted. I never asked because it seemed like a sensitive topic to her, but I supported her regardless. Writing seemed so out of nowhere for her. I don’t know where it came from. Then she stopped wanting to go to business dinners and events with me and after that we just drifted. And in between that, you introduced me to Yura.”

When Yoongi mentioned Yura, Jungkook winced. He had thought about it some nights ago, but he realized that he might have had a hand in your divorce by introducing Yura to Yoongi. Though he knows Yoongi would have never physically cheated on you, he could see how Yoongi and Yura gravitated towards each other. Jungkook had to admit that Yura was a sweet girl. She was beautiful, and when she smiled it was like sunshine.

Yoongi interrupted his train of thought. “Yura is kind of a complicated subject to our marriage. I would never, ever cheat on someone I loved. And I loved Yn, so much. When you introduced Yura to me, I was happy to meet a new friend and that’s all I saw, but the more you made me hang out with you guys, the more I started to see something in her that I stopped seeing in Yn. I never meant to have any sort of romantic feelings for Yura, but it happened and I feel so fucking shitty for doing that to Yn when I’m the one who promised her a lifetime together.”

Jungkook straightened his posture as Yoongi’s confession.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” He asked.

“By what?” Yoongi looked at him confused.

“What happened to Yn that pushed you to Yura?”

At this, Yoongi scratched his head.

“I wouldn’t say that it pushed me to Yura, but remember when I said Yn and I started getting distant? As time went on, I felt like she changed and I didn’t know who she was. She used to be so bubbly and happy and always wanting to go look at flowers, but towards the end of our marriage, she stayed holed up in our room no matter how much I asked her to spend time with me. Yura, she was happy to spend time with me. She made me feel like I could forget about everything just by talking to me.”

“Yura made you feel like how Yn used to make you feel?” Jungkook cut him off.

“Well… I guess so.”

Jungkook thought about this for a while but narrowed his eyes at his hyung.

“Hyung, answer this truthfully; do you love Yura?”

The tips of Yoongi’s ears turned red after hearing this.

“Love? I don’t know. I like her? I like the way she makes me feel. She’s beautiful and smart and she makes me happy.”

“Hyung, I don’t know if you realize this, but the way you described Yura is exactly the same way you described Yn.”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like you started liking Yura because she reminded you of Yn when you met her. So, do you really, truly like Yura? Or do you just like her because she reminds you of what you don’t have anymore?”

Yoongi lowered his head.

“I-I don’t know. I never thought of it like that.”

Jungkook put his hand on Yoongi’s back to comfort him. Obviously, the man was confused.

“I don’t know if this helps, but I just wanted to let you know that whenever I saw Yn, during those dinners or events, she never gave off the vibe that you described her to be. To me, she was quiet, reserved and never bothered trying to get to know us, your friends, or your business. That’s what she came off as. When you told us that you loved each other and that you eloped, I thought you were joking. When I saw her, she just seemed like the typical trophy wife. Just for show. I never liked her and wondered what you saw in her all the fucking time, but now after hearing this, and after being with her for a couple of hours, it’s obvious that something happened that fucked her up and then fucked your marriage up.” Jungkook ranted.

“I think you might need to reevaluate the relationship you had with Yn so we could help her recover from this whole amnesia thing and hopefully figure out what happened. Something definitely happened, but since I don’t know your marriage like you do, I don't know what it is. I feel guilty now after realizing that I might have had a hand in whatever the fuck she was going through. And maybe figure out what you’re going to do about Yura. Can you keep dating her when your feelings for her are based off of your feelings for your ex-wife, who is currently pregnant with your wife and doesn’t know about it?” He continued.

Yoongi took a deep breath, taking all of this conversation in.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m almost done with the shit here at the company. When I go home, I’ll sort everything out and talk to Yn and Yura tomorrow. I don’t think I can keep seeing Yura with the current situation. I have to tell Yn about the pregnancy as soon as possible, but I’m scared because the doctor told me to monitor for residual symptoms for her concussion. I don’t even know where to begin with the situation.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’m here for you. You have to tell her about the pregnancy before she finds out herself. In the meantime, I’ll help you out when you can’t take care of her. I already feel shitty enough for how I acted with her when you two were married. I feel like I had the wrong impression this whole time.” Jungkook offered.

Yoongi remembered the moment earlier when Jungkook confessed that he never liked you and that baffled him because he thought that you two, of all people, would get along well together. More often than not, he would feel jealous of Jungkook, who had your admiration when you first started dating. He remembered you always asking him to introduce you to Jungkook and it took a year for him to budge and actually make it happen.

“I’m sure you’ll get along now. I always thought you did get along. Did you know she liked you before?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook shook his head. “I didn’t know until the other day when you had me take her home. It probably would have helped if you told me she knew who I was before you introduced us after you got together. She never acted like she was a fan of my music and admittedly, I was a dick to her.”

Yoongi glared at him. It was a first for him to hear about how Jungkook treated his ex-wife.

“Well, you should feel shitty because she really liked you and your music. For a while, I thought she liked you more than me. If I had known you were an asshole to her, I probably would have ripped you a new one. Hearing you admit you treated her like shit makes me feel like shit because I never knew and just assumed you guys were good with each other. You didn’t do or say anything bad to her, right? You’re not that type of person.”

Jungkook could only pretend to smile at Yoongi as he asked this.

He shook his head and lied. “No, never.”

Lying through his teeth to his best friend about how he treated you made his heart fall to his stomach. Well, Yoongi didn’t have to know because it was in the past. You couldn’t remember any of the mean things he’d said to you, so now was the perfect time to make a new, much better impression of himself to you. He decided days ago that he would be better, because deep down, he knew that you didn’t deserve to be treated like how he treated you.

[nov. 21, 2020]

Yoongi had taken the day off after his somewhat enlightening conversation with Jungkook last night. He decided that he needed to go see you and spend some time with you today, but before that, he needed to settle things with Yura.

They decided to meet up at his apartment for maximum privacy, just in case anything happened. He wanted to account for the worst case scenario of Yura probably getting angry and throwing things around, but he doesn’t think she’s the type of person to do dramatic things like that.

Turns out, she’s not. When he reluctantly tells her that he can’t continue on with what they had because of residual feelings for you, in addition to the fact that there were complications in that relationship that he can’t speak about carelessly, she had reacted calmly and amicably. Though Yoongi hadn’t expected her to throw a tantrum, he was expecting some kind of anger, but all he got was a sad look passing on her face followed by comforting words.

He apologized profusely for having dragged her around when he still had apparent feelings for his ex-wife and not figuring out his feelings for her, or lack thereof, sooner. She reassured him that it was okay and she’ll be fine.

“I’ll be fine Yoongi. I liked you, but it’s pretty obvious that you used me as some kind of rebound or replacement for your ex-wife, and I was okay with it. Truthfully, I was waiting for you to just come clean and break it off with me. I hope you and Yn figure things out this time, and I hope you can talk to her. Communication is important.” She reminds him before she leaves, but not before letting him know that she would always be there for him as a friend.

He had texted her after she left, and after a couple of minutes to himself, that he was thankful for her being so nice about the situation and all in all, he didn’t regret whatever short-lived affection they had for each other.

Yoongi still couldn’t believe how smoothly everything with Yura went. He hoped that the rest of the day would be the same.

☾

You woke up to a message from Jungkook asking if you were free, so you had to tidy up the apartment and yourself because you didn’t want to look messy in front of someone you had idolized for a long time.

Luckily enough, you didn’t have to cook since Jungkook offered to bring food. You thank your lucky stars for that because for some reason, you’ve been feeling incredibly sluggish and nauseous. It was probably some symptoms of the concussion you suffered. You remembered your doctor saying something about that the last time you were at the hospital.

About 20 minutes later, you heard your doorbell ring so practically skip to the door, excited to see Jungkook and steal the food that he brought.

You opened the door to see Jungkook standing there with a big back of food in his hands. He was wearing all black, with a leather jacket that looked a tad too big on him.

“You look warm.” You comment.

He rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna invite me in or not? I even brought you food.”

You laugh a little and move to the side to give him room to step inside the apartment.

“So, what have you been doing?” He asks as he makes his way to your dining room to put the food down.

You make your way to the kitchen to get some plates for the both of you.

“Nothing. I’ve been trying to look for some stuff but I don’t know where to start so I just gave up until you or Yoongi could come help.” You reply as you move to the dining room to set the plates down.

Jungkook takes the food out and puts some on the plates. Kimbap, like you asked, and some seaweed soup.

“How have you been feeling? Okay?” He questioned.

You nodded, though hesitantly.

“Eh, I’ve been feeling kind of tired. I think I might be sick because I keep wanting to vomit. Is that my wintermelon tea, by the way?” You pointed to the drink in his hand.

Jungkook poked the straw through the lid and handed it to you.

“Sick? Did you take any medicine? Are you feeling better now?”

You took a sip of your tea and sighed, missing the sweet taste of the drink. It felt nostalgic.

“Mhm, took some earlier and I'm feeling much better thanks to the food you brought!” You smiled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes jokingly once again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He didn’t think about your illness any further. It was probably a cold and nothing else.

For about 20 minutes, the two of you ate and spoke about little things, mostly about Jungkook and his career. It helped you get to know him a little bit better since he’s the only person besides Yoongi who could help you in your situation until Jin comes back.

After you finished eating, you told him that you needed his help going through your room in case there was anything that could jog your memory.

“I would ask Yoongi but he’s been busy lately.”

“So I’m just your last resort?”

“You’re literally the only other person in my contact list besides Yoongi and Jin.”

“Right, anyways, lead the way!” He exclaimed.

You laughed as you led him to the room at the end of the hallway.

“Sorry if it’s a little messy, I didn’t have that much time to clean up before you got here!” You explained.

Jungkook shook his head, telling you it didn’t really matter since it was gonna be a mess anyways while you two went through your things.

☾

When Jungkook walked into your room, he was once again hit with the feeling that he had no fucking clue who you were in the past years he’d known you. If he could describe your room in one word, it would be enchanting. White walls, white sheets adorn with a baby blue blanket, wooden floors, giant plants and a mirror much bigger than himself. Your desk was filled with different kinds of pens, different notebooks that look to have been trifled through, and an unnatural amount of books and crystals.

From the looks of the rest of your house, he probably shouldn’t be surprised at your bedroom, but it’s still a bit difficult for him to wrap his mind around the fact that you were this type of person. Bright, intelligent, and incredibly neat.

He walked up to your desk and picked up the different notebooks laid out messily on the table. When he opened each of them, he noticed that they were mostly blank, with the exception of a few doodles. There were some things he’d recognized as lyrics from songs he knew, but nothing truly relevant to the memories you lost.

You stood next to Jungkook and looked at the notebooks in his hands.

“I went through those already. Nothing but a few sad lyrics here and there. None of them triggered any memories.” You mentioned.

Jungkook put them down and started walking around the room with you as you talked about what you did find during the days that you were left alone. What he got from that conversation was that you had no luck with anything and that’s why you waited until either he or Yoongi could come over and help you. Jungkook knew that Yoongi was coming over later, so if he couldn’t help you find anything or answer any of your questions today, then maybe Yoongi could.

“Oh! I forgot to mention that I can’t even access any of my social media, so do you think I can look through my instagram through your phone? I mean, if that’s okay with you. I know some people feel uncomfortable giving their phone to someone else to play around with.” You asked.

Jungkook shook his head and stuck his hand in his pant pocket, reaching for his phone.

“It’s fine, you can look at your profile, I think I follow you. The password is 061313.” He stated as he handed his phone over to you.

You grabbed it excitedly, finally getting the chance to see what your life was like during the four years that were missing from your memory. You fell back onto your bed as you unlocked Jungkook’s phone and clicked on his instagram app quickly.

You took a look at his profile first, staring in awe at the pictures he’s posted. Most of his pictures are very dark and he had quite a few selfies. You smiled a little bit as you admitted in your head that he was indeed handsome.

Okay, Yn, onto the more important things! You thought to yourself as you quickly searched your username ‘faeyn’ on the search bar. At first you were excited, but it deflated when you saw just how many posts you had. 13 posts. And almost all of them were just landscapes. Some had pictures of you by yourself, or with Jin, but that was it. How the fuck were you supposed to try to figure out your life through 13 pictures?

Scrolling through each picture and their captions from the oldest to newest, you quickly realized that you must have decided that privacy was something that should be valued. There was nothing of substance to your situation in the captions you’d written. Just casual mentions of how your day was, or what you did that day. The only thing that caught your eye was the latest post you had, dated September 22. It was a picture of clouds and the caption said something about your therapist advising you to take a break, so you were going to be on a social media cleanse for a while.

Well, at least you learned one thing. Apparently, you started going to therapy again. For what? You don’t know. You only remembered going to therapy a couple of times after the whole incident with your bastard ex-boyfriend.

You filed this little detail into your brain and hoped that maybe it would make more sense later on. Swiping up on Jungkook’s phone took you to his home screen, but you paused for a little. Maybe you could snoop through some more apps and see if there was anything else you can find.

No, that would be an invasion of Jungkook’s privacy, you thought. Another part of you argued that he wasn’t going to know and he’s here to help you. If there was anything worth hiding, he wouldn’t have given you his phone and his password so easily. And if there was anything, it wouldn’t be incriminating since he mentioned that you two didn’t really know each other that well, so you shrugged and clicked on his messages.

I’ll just see if there are any messages to me. I won’t look at anything else, you justified, as if it made it any better.

After scrolling for a little while, you finally saw something worthwhile. A text convo between you and Jungkook and from the preview of the message, it looks like it was from the middle of September. You opened it, excited to see the contents, but what you saw made you furrow your brows.

What is this?

☾

After Jungkook gave you his phone, he continued walking around your room until he got to the side of your bed that was next to the window. He looked around for a bit and saw something in the corner of his eyes. Crouching down lower, he saw something on the floor behind your headboard. He couldn’t tell what it was at first, but as soon as he moved closer, he realized it was a thick notebook. Jungkook surmises that you probably hadn’t seen it despite telling him that you looked ‘everywhere’. He took the notebook and sat down on the floor, completely hiding his figure, but not before he could look at you. He wanted to see what was in the notebook before he showed it to you, and luckily enough, you had been facing away from him.

So he sat down and opened the notebook. From just the first page, he could tell it was some kind of diary or journal. There were lots of drawings and stickers and a picture of you in a field of flowers right in the middle of the first page. He flipped through the whole notebook really quickly and found that half of it was already filled.

A part of him wanted to read through the whole thing and see what kind of things you wrote, but another part told him that it wasn’t appropriate. Despite that, he convinced himself that he should read maybe just one entry, just to see if this notebook was something substantial to your current situation.

Jungkook took a peek at you again and noticed you still had your back turned to him so he took that as a sign that he could probably get away with reading an entry. He flipped to a page randomly and focused his eyes on the writing.

The entry was dated August 4, 2020. Fairly recent. He noticed that there were some dark blotches on the paper that made the ink bleed.

He began to read the entry, not knowing what he was going to find out.

It still seems weird to be writing about my problems in a journal. I’m still not used to it, but it’s been helpful since I don’t really have anyone to talk to about this.

That made him frown.

I went to my OBGYN today because I’ve been having severe cramps and bleeding, but I already had my period so I was worried. And the cramps were starting to really hurt, so I had to go get it checked out just in case. Well, apparently I was pregnant and lost the baby.

Jungkook’s eyes widened and he gasped audibly. Luckily enough, it wasn’t loud enough for you to notice. He clasped his hand over his mouth at the disbelief in reading this information. A miscarriage? And so recent, too. He didn’t know how to feel. Yoongi had never said anything about this.

Jin actually just left my house a couple of hours ago. I don’t think the news hit me until now. I texted Yoongi earlier to tell him but he was busy so I think that was a sign that I should probably not tell him. It’s not like it matters right? Since the baby was gone anyways.

I know my therapist told me to stop with the negative self-talk, but it’s moments like this that really push me to just keep thinking I’ll never be good enough for the men that I love. Thanks to my bastard ex for fucking my mind up like this. No matter how hard I try, I always just circle back to the fact that I wasn’t good enough for him, and that I’m not good enough for Yoongi. Even fate is telling me that I’m not good enough to carry a child with the man I love. How fucked up is that?

Jungkook’s heart dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. There were so many things going through his head right now. He felt like he was violating something that was so private. Yoongi didn’t even know that you went through this. You didn’t even know you went through this. He shut the journal quickly, wiping the tears that formed in his eyes.

At that exact moment, he heard your heavy breathing and quickly got up to check on you. He walked around to your side of the bed and found you trembling with his phone in your hands. He noticed that his messages were open and he began to panic.

“What the fuck is this?” was the last thing he heard you say before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you fell limp into your bed.

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[iblewthewhistle]

Returning to the Morgue

Waylon opened his eyes again, and let out a groan. He was still in the blasted dress. Oh well, at least the Legion would get a laugh out of it. Waylon stalked through the now familiar twisted walls of the asylum, and scooped up a pillowcase, and, opening a cupboard door, began stuffing it with supplies.

As he walked through the deserted building, past the ever present bodies of the tactical squad, Waylon spotted a lit vending machine, and cheered internally. About time it was restocked again.

A well placed kick to the vending machine released the cans and snacks, and Waylon stuffed the pillowcase with the goods from that too.

As he walked towards the entrance, he heard the familiar call, but rolled his eyes and stalked towards the doors, ignoring Eddie’s pleas for him to return. He carried on, following the now familiar trail back towards the morgue.

“Darling, we should really head back. Who knows what could be lurking out in this evil wood.” Eddie spoke, even as Waylon strode ahead, not bothering to acknowledge him.

Almost on cue, four shapes darted out of the thick trees, all of them masked and hooded. "Nice dress. Aren't you looking beautiful today?"

“Darling, get behind me.”

“Who the fuck are you, Grandpa?” One sneered, and Eddie stepped forwards, as though ready to defend him. “She’s waiting, bad trial?”

“The worst, I got taken.” Waylon replied as he ducked around Eddie, and held up the pillowcase. “I’ve got goodies for you, if you never mention the dress again.”

Eddie watched as the teens seemed to flock around him, talking of their own trials, and reaching into the pillowcase for some of the goodies. As Waylon led the way to a small building, and he pushed the metal door open.

“Welcome back.” There was a loud, crunching noise, and Waylon moved past the woman at the operating table to hop up onto a counter, and let out a long sigh. She looked up, and squinted at him.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“May I present: The Groom.” Waylon wiggled his hands in Eddie’s direction. “I guess the Entity thought I had it too easy. Decided to dress me up for his entertainment.”

She made a disinterested noise, and went back to whatever she was doing, elbow deep in the corpse. “Did you find some ethanol?”

“Brought it, along with some pills I just nabbed and I broke the vending machine again.” Waylon was digging around in the pillowcase, stacking cans, bars of candy and packs of chips, and other things beside him. “Didn’t get any more suture thread though. Sorry.”

Eddie finally reached out to grab Waylon’s wrist, and pulled him easily off the countertop, dragging him back towards the entrance. “That’s it. We’re going back, and you’re telling me what’s going on!”

He was surprised, however, to see the masked teens standing in the doorway, each holding a blade, and ready to pounce. “Out of the way, brats.”

“Eddie, you need to let go. Now.” Waylon hissed, as he pulled and clawed at the fingers clamped around his wrist. The leader of the kids was prowling forwards, and Eddie took a step backwards, pulling Waylon with him, even as he tried plant his feet and stop Eddie from moving him. “Eddie, let go of me!”

The woman stepped forwards, still holding the bloodied bonesaw in her hands. “You clearly don’t understand how things work here. So I’ll say this once. Release him and get out if you cannot be civil.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed, but he reluctantly let go. Waylon stepped towards the teens, who crowded around him. “What is going on here?”

Waylon’s hand was pulled down as the teens inspected it, before muttering among themselves, swapping something between them before he was released, the wrist now wrapped in bandages. Waylon gave them a quiet thanks as he studied Eddie.

“Okay. Come with me.” He offered, holding a hand out. As Eddie followed, the teens around them started to follow.

“Guys, give us a minute. You can defend my honour later, I promise.” Waylon laughed. Eddie didn’t find it that funny, even as they wandered outside of the morgue. The teens all followed him to the doorway, all glaring after the pair.

“You can’t just threaten people here. They will kill you.” Waylon tried. “We’re somewhere…strange. The thing keeping us here wants to feed on fear…suffering…pain.” Waylon shook his head. “It will not let you go. You’re going to kill people. For it’s entertainment.”

“I don’t understand.” Eddie looked back at the building behind them. "Who are those children?"

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Waylon folded his arms, frowning.

“I…we fought. And then I woke up in the asylum.” Eddie seemed to concentrate. “I don’t remember anything else.”

“Eddie. You tried to hang me and the counterweight failed.” Waylon’s hands reached up to touch his face. “You died when you were impaled by a piece of rebar.”

“But…”

“This thing wants us miserable, tortured and scared. We here try to help each other.” Waylon told him, hands moving to rest on his broad chest. “I stay here. I help. Because I don’t want to be scared. You can go back to the asylum if you want. But I will not be there.”

Eddie hesitated, and blinked at the sight of the teens studying him from afar.

“All right. I’ll try and help. Just tell me what you need to do.” He finally resolved.

[ollypopwrites]

I. Devil to Pay | Biker!Mando AU

Biker!Mando x Female Reader

wordcount: 1.3k

REQUESTED BY: @huliabitch the prompt was: “For a liar, you’re very beautiful.” with space dad din?

A/N: [reposted because i wasnt showing up in tags] So i decided to make this into a Biker AU because that’s where my mind went! If you guys are interested in more let me know because um...I kind of love this concept. UPDATE: i was originally inspired by the art of @princessmimoza (this piece specifically) but I have also been informed that @miranhas-art also has some art/working on some art specifically for a biker!au AND they directed me to this twitter thread by twitter user @//cranity ! check all of them out they are all incredibly talented 💜

Warnings: Language, mild violence, and discussions of a absent father

You felt yourself tense up the moment you heard the motorcycle pull up, obnoxiously loud and from your spot inside the shop you could see the silver glint of the polished body. This was inevitable, you knew, you just hoped you had more time to figure it out before he came to your door. You felt you could hear every movement in your loft above the little flower shop; it was too late to call out a warning.

When the bells on the door jingled as he entered, you were sure to be busy repotting a spider plant. The heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor were just as loud as your heart in your chest. It was humid in your shop, but the sweat forming on your palms had nothing to do with that. You took a deep breath, you had to play this off no matter how scared you were.

“Excuse me,” the voice was muffled and gravely.

“Hello,” you turned with the most natural smile you could muster, wiping your hands free of damp soil. “Can I help you find anything?”

Poor choice of words and you regretted saying them the moment they came out of your mouth. Before you seemed to be a wall of a man. He wore a black shirt and over it an immaculate vest with patches whose meaning you couldn’t really parse. His voice was muffled by the helmet that was still on his head, all black with a silver visor that was so reflective you could see a distorted image of yourself in it but kept all of his features hidden completely.

“I’m looking for Tycho.” he responded blandly. “The word on the street is he’s been hiding out at his sister’s place -- that’s you right?”

It was no surprise at all, but to hear him ask for your brother made you feel like you were dunked in ice cold water. Your rose an eyebrow and you stuck your chin out almost stubbornly.

“He isn’t here,” you said evenly. “He left the state after he and Syala split up. I haven't heard from him since then. Sorry.”

There was a heavy silence between the two of you. Aside from all the fear, a little bit of anger rose up in you as well. You just wanted him to leave. There was no give from either of you; his shining visor blankly stayed focused on you and you stood there glaring back at him. The little bit of dirt that was smudged on your cheek, and some stray leaves stuck in your hair offset the dangerous way your eyes blazed like you were challenging him to call your bluff.

“For a liar, you’re very beautiful,” he said, still muffled but the tone had a bit of amusement to it.

“Excuse me?” Was this man -- this man who was hunting your brother -- hitting on you? “How dare you -- “

But he walked away before you could finish your sentence and was quickly stalking towards that back door. Panic rose in your throat, he might just be looking around and if you said the wrong thing it might tip him off to the fact that yes, you were lying.

“You can’t go back there, sir, it’s --”

He didn’t listen, just walked through the doorway that led up to your home. There was a shout from a familiar voice followed by a pained grunt and then the helmeted man was dragging your brother out of the door way. He must have been listening in, and you internally cursed him for not just staying up in the loft. You rushed forward, not sure exactly what you would do but there was no way you were gonna let him take your brother without a fight.

You and your brother were never close, especially not after he started getting into trouble with the law and other lawbreakers. But he was family -- you weren’t gonna let him be dragged off..

Before you could get to them the stranger threw him against one of your displays of flowers, knocking a few pots off of the shelf and rattling glass. It broke your heart to see your brother so scared and immediately begging for forgiveness to this person. The show of violence scared you and when the man grabbed your brother's shirt and drew him in real close you reached for the phone on the counter to call for help.

“You’re late again, Tycho,” the voice growled, “that’s six months in a row now.”

“I’ll get the money, I swear,” Tycho whined, “I just need some time --”

“And Syala and the kids need to keep their roof over their heads,” the man interrupted. “This is your last warning.”

“This is about child support?” You had stopped dialing, as you processed what you had just heard. “You haven't paid Syala in six months?” your voice was shrill with fury and shock.

Your anger was now boiling at your brother. He never told you why The Mandalorians had it out for him, he just said they were coming after him and he had nowhere else to go. You thought of how angry you had been at Syala about the breakup, and how you hadn’t seen your nieces and nephews in months -- suddenly you felt like you were missing some important pieces of the story.

You walked up to them with a frown, glaring at your brother and then turning to the Mandalorian. “I can send you back with part of what he owes,” you said, “I have some saved up.”

“You don’t owe the money,” his tone was insistent as he shook your brother slightly, “he does.”

“He doesn’t have it,” you retorted. The silver visor stared back at you, but he said nothing. “If it’s for the kids I’m more than happy to help her out.”

The Mandalorian let go of your brother who stayed awkwardly leaned against the display case catching his breath and careful not to bring any more attention to himself. You disappeared for a moment to your safe and pulled out as much as you could spare. It wasn’t ideal, but you had enough to keep the shop running. It would have to do. You piled the cash into one of the linen reusable bags you sold with your shop’s name printed across it  and handed it over.

The Mandolorian took it from you, reached inside and handed over one of the stacks back to you.

“For any damages,” he gestured to the now ruined display of ferns your brother was now untangling himself from. “We won’t accept any more payments from you,” he said plainly, “it’s his responsibility.”

And he would face the consequences if he failed to do his duty again. It was unspoken but you and your brother could piece it together. When the Mandalorian turned to leave you finally saw the back of the vest -- the patch saying clear as day who he was affiliated with. “The Mandalorians” ribboned over a Mythosaur skull, and a single phrase in a language that you couldn’t read beneath it. You gripped the cash in your hands and moved to the door to lock it once he stepped out.

He mounted the motorcycle and before he pulled away you saw the small license plate: ‘RZRCRST.’ The bike was loud when it started up and set off a few other car alarms as he swiftly took off down the busy street your shop sat in the middle of. You were intrigued to say the least. Most stories you heard about The Mandalorians were filled with fear and contempt -- but that one was simply looking out for somebody else’s kids.

You weren’t sure who he was or even what he looked like, but all the anger you had felt about him showing up to your shop was gone. He was looking out for your brother’s ex-wife and kids -- when you turned towards your brother who refused to look you in the eye.

“Grab a broom and clean up that mess,” you demanded. “You better find a fucking job, Tycho. If he comes back I’m not covering for your ass again.”

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