#those first two images are so low res sorry

[gin-draws]

just some more misc d&d doodles

[luna-redamancy]

Fix It (Thorin x F!Reader) 18+ NSFW Commission

Thank you @anjhope1 for the Ko-fi! Here is your ko-fi commission! 

Note: The Thorin image as well as the divider is not mine. The Thorin image was originally posted by @thearkenstone-ck​ (I found it on pinterest, luckily the url is at the bottom right) and the dividers used are by @firefly-graphics​​ which can be found Here 

Warnings: Smut, angst, Thorin being an ass for a bit. 

⚠️18+ Content ahead, Please read at your own risk ⚠️

It wasn’t unknown to you that braids have significance, in fact that was the first conversation you ever had with Thorin upon him asking for your approval to court you- how important and vital the braid was. How each placement of the strands of hair was significant, how by tilting the braiding outward you can declare a budding love, but inward you can declare a passing of something, such as a birthright. 

‘Yet how did this happen?’ You mentally scolded yourself as you watched each passing dwarf look at you like you were a conundrum. You knew it had to have been your hair. It was Muhudtuzakhmerag, or Spring Fest, in Erebor and Thorin requested you wear a traditional ‘Queen’s Braid’ to the event to walk alongside him. 

The request itself was simple, and sweet of him, to want you to participate like the queens before you, however, there was not a single portrait of what the said braids looked like. So you simply went by your best educated guess coupled with the old instructions written on ancient parchment that looked like it was going to fall apart any moment now. 

The festival would begin with the giving of the straw. First, Thorin would place a strand of the straw into your hair, and you into his tunic pocket. This was to symbolize the true connection and reliance the dwarves had with nature. The next event was the ‘Carrying of the Straw’ where you and Thorin would lead a line of dwarves through the kingdom, assisting each other in carrying a barrow of straw to the feast room. All to honor Yavana, Mahal’s wife who originally gave the first dwarves their first straw of barley. 

To say this event was huge for the dwarves would be an understatement. And, with this knowledge, you had hoped to look your best for Thorin. 

As soon as you entered the throne room to meet with Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin before the event, you knew you messed up royally. 

“(Y/n)...” Balin began gently, before Thorin’s angry voice startled you. 

“What in Mahal have you done?” Thorin wasn’t shouting, but his fists were clenched like he was desperately trying not to. 

“I tried my best to follow the instructions, is it that awful?” You looked at Balin and Dwalin, your eyebrows furrowed and your expression hurt at Thorin’s tone of voice. “What did I do wrong?” You asked the elderly dwarf, in hopes he would be able to give you advice before Thorin began speaking again. 

“Everything.” He spat, shaking his head with a humorless chuckle as he began to pace the throne room floor. 

“Lass,” Balin began before Thorin held his hand up, “Don’t speak to her.” 

“The one time I request for you to do something specific and you can’t even get that right!” Thorin shouted, making you flinch as you stood back, your eyes beginning to fill with tears. 

“I knew it was a mistake to ever court you, I never loved you to begin with.” 

A gasp left your throat, “T-Thorin…” You felt your heart sink to your stomach. He regretted loving you, courting you, marrying you, all because of one braid? 

“I can fix it,” You offered, your tone showing how close to the verge you were to breaking into tears, wanting to appease him so he wasn’t so angry with you. 

“You can’t fix being human,” He huffed, “I knew a low human would never be able to meet the standards of being the queen of Erebor. If I could turn back time and never let you join this journey, I would---”

“Thorin, enough.” Dwalin all but growled at him. “It is just a braid, you can re-do it for her.” Dwalin tried to reason but Thorin let out a humorless chuckle. “You can re-do a braid, but you cannot redo or undo the damage that has been done. She has shown she does not care about our culture or our practices.”

Looking to Balin, you suppressed a sob as tears went down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” You told him, eyes full of regret and pain as you quickly took the pins holding the braid in place out, the metal clanging as it hit the stone floor. 

“Lassie, it’s alright,” He began to soothe you but you shook your head.

“I’m so sorry,” You repeated shaking your head, exiting the room, with your hand up to your mouth to attempt to muffle the gasps leaving your throat as you continued to suppress the sobs threatening to escape. 

“Thorin what have you done?!” Balin shouted at him as soon as you fled the room, glaring at the boy he watched grow up in these stone walls. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago.”

“You will come to regret it. Don’t you realize you just told your wife that you despised her?” 

“I don’t have time to deal with this, we have a festival to lead.” Thorin brushed past both of them to go grab his crown for the festivities. 

As you put on a plain slip and slid into bed, you felt hot tears bubble down your face. He didn’t love you. All because you were human. Your heart ached as you heard the cheering, the Broken Bone Race being completed and the victor being given a medal, Thorin’s laugh trickling into your ears despite the many voices you have heard. That made you begin to sob as you clutched the pillow. 

“He doesn’t love me…” You murmured to yourself, wiping your tears. “He wants a dwarrowdam.” You felt your heart clench as those words passed your lips. 

Sitting up, you sniffled, wiping your eyes almost aggressively as you put on a robe. Maybe something in the library could help you with your love issues. 

Thorin couldn’t deny the worry in his heart as he searched the halls of Erebor for you a few days later. Upon returning from the festivities, Thorin wasn’t too concerned with your absence, figuring you needed time alone from the blow-up that occurred in the throne room, but when it was the third day that he hadn’t seen you at any meals, your very presence and being missing from his day to day activities such as your walks together, he knew something was wrong. 

His gut twisted as he walked down another corridor, before halting in his steps. “(Y/n)?” He breathed out, confused at the sight of you. You were dressed in the average dwarrowdam fashion, your hair up in braids like every other dwarrowdam he had come across. 

It wasn’t you. 

“Yes?” You cut straight to the point as you turned from your discussion with an advisor, and seeing Thorin’s dumbfounded expression, you excused the gentleman as you turned fully toward him. “What is it that you need, Thorin?” Your voice was cold, posture stiff as you stared him down with calculating eyes. 

It was like you were a different person altogether. 

“What happened to you?” Was all he could think to say. 

Tilting your head, you raised a brow at him. “What you wanted.” Was all you answered as you turned on your heel, leaving him in the stone hallway all alone as you went to speak with the advisor once more. 

Bursting through the doorway, Thorin’s voice caught the ears of the Company members fairly quickly. 

“There’s something wrong with (Y/n)!” He yelled out, completely unsettled by your appearance. He knew you preferred your hair loose, not confined by things, and how you liked to wear flowy dresses made by soft fabrics, not thick dresses weighed down with crystals and braided fabric tassels. 

“You finally noticed.” Dwalin scoffed, continuing to sharpen his blades, his disapproval of Thorin very clear. 

“Aye, it wasn’t like she was missing from your chambers for three whole days and four whole nights.” Balin’s tone was clearly passive aggressive as he handed out documents to each member. 

At Thorin’s lost expression, Balin chuckled bitterly. 

“You told her you didn’t love her, that you despised her because she was human and what did you expect her to do!” Balin finally lost it, throwing his papers across the room, tears welling up in his eyes. 

“She didn’t deserve that, Thorin!” Balin yelled, a tear going down his cheek. “All she wanted to do was make you happy and instead of applauding her effort and guiding her to the correct way, you belittled her! You ruined her self-esteem and told her she meant less than the dirt on your boots.”

“She didn’t deserve any of that… And now… Now you have the audacity to come in here like you did nothing wrong?” 

“I didn’t realize…” 

“You don’t seem to realize a lot of things, Thorin.” Balin huffed moving to pick up his papers as Fili, Kili, and Ori helped collect them from off the ground. 

“I have to do something.”

Bofur shook his head, “If she’d let you.” 

Thorin looked at him like he just grew two heads. 

Rolling his eyes, Bofur shook his head again. “You were an utter arse, Thorin. You expect some weepy apology is going to make her forget everything you said? How little your actions have done to prove you do indeed care for her?” 

“She’s lost weight, Thorin. She doesn’t come to meals, she hardly sleeps. And what do you notice? Oh, that she’s wearing a traditional dress.” Bofur’s sarcasm seeped through his tone. 

“Y’know, Thorin, I hope she doesn’t forgive you. I hope she doesn’t let her sorry excuse of a One back into her life.” Bofur’s words cut into Thorin, hitting him where it hurts most. And for a moment, Thorin wasn’t Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, king of Erebor. In this moment he was a young dwarrow being scolded. 

“But if you do somehow manage to weasel your way into her good graces, you better work your arse off to prove to her that you care for her.” 

“I will.” 

Bofur huffed through his nostrils as he went back to carving a wooden duck as if Thoin wasn’t even there. 

“You better go find her, then.” Dwalin nodded to Thorin, a small smile on his face was all Thorin needed to feel encouraged as he set off to go find you. 

Seeing Thorin for the first time in the past couple of days affected you more than you’d like to think, his harsh words being pulled from the back of your mind to the forefront, replaying in your head over and over. Instead of meeting with your advisor, you waited until Thorin was gone so you could go back to your room, the room you originally had before you and Thorin were wed. 

Looking into the mirror, you couldn’t help but criticize everything about yourself. Your braids weren’t as taught as how they were this morning. The gown made you look radiant this morning but now it felt like a bulky mess that you shouldn’t have attempted to wear. 

“Is it all for nothing?” You wondered as you stepped away from the vanity mirror and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“He didn’t even notice.” You scoffed, flopping backwards. 

The next morning, Thorin was adamant on approaching you. 

“Good morning, Dushin-Mizim (dark jewel).”

“Morning, King Thorin.” Your reply was short as you walked past him, your hair half braided today, and in a less formal traditional dwarvish gown. 

Thorin frowned, usually you’d kiss his cheek and say “Good morning, my love,” to him before he’d hold your hand and the two of you would walk together. Not that he blamed you for not doing so.

Instead of eating with him, you sat at the other end of the table, alone as you carefully ate your breakfast. 

Sighing, Thorin brought the water glass up to his lips. ‘I deserve this,’ he thought as he watched the way the sunlight filtered through the sky-lights, making a rim of light circle the top of your hair, making you look angelic. An ache began to settle in his chest, he missed you. 

He’s got to come up with a plan. 

“How was your day, Ghivashel (Treasure of all treasures)?” Thorin attempted to make conversation as you approached after exiting a meeting.

“Perfectly fine, King Thorin.” You responded icily as you walked past him, your face stoic until you moved where he couldn’t see your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you bit your lip. ‘Does he love me still?’ you pondered, but that thought was quickly squashed when you realized he began to act lovingly again once you were in dwarvish attire. ‘He loves the facade.’ you decided as you walked to your room. 

Looking in the mirror, you shook your head. “This isn’t me.” You murmured to yourself, while you had nothing against dwarrowdams, you knew this style of dress, this hairdo, it wasn’t yours. It didn’t suit you. You felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, an imitator waiting to be revealed. 

Unravelling your hair, you sighed as your scalp was relieved of the taught pressure. Reaching behind you to unravel the laces of your bodice, you let out a relieved groan as you pulled the thick fabric off of you in favor of pulling on a light night gown. 

Returning to the mirror you brushed your hair, refreshed to see it how it usually is. Free and relaxed. 

“I’m done pretending... “ You told yourself, nodding to your reflection. “I am (Y/n), a human.. Not a Dwarrowdam.” You felt tears build in your eyes, “and if Thorin wants one so bad, then so be it, but I will not erase myself for his pleasure.”

The next morning you felt alive again, as if someone had cleaned out the cobwebs of your chimney and lit the fire once more. Putting on a loose gown, you only brushed your hair, carefully placing oils where they were needed before looking in the mirror. You finally looked like yourself again. 

“Good morning, amrâlimê (My love).” Thorin called out to you as you exited your bedding chambers, making you pause in your stride.

“Good morning, King Thorin.” You responded blandly, watching as he analyzed you, your expression cool but your heart hammering inside of your chest. Would he say anything? Would he stop calling you the names you cherish close to your heart?

“You look radiant,” He smiled at you, before letting it drop, his expression turning serious. “I would like to have a talk with you, today, whenever you have time, of course.” He looked nervous as he spoke, something you hadn’t seen since the day he asked to put in your courting braid. 

“I’ll be free this evening,” You told him, curious as to what he needed to tell you. 

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he nodded, like he was having an inner conversation before looking into your eyes. 

“Would you… Do me the honor of meeting me in the gardens this evening?” Thorin held his hands behind his back, nervously rubbing his thumb over the other one, just waiting for you to say no.  After all, he had to earn your trust again, to earn your love again. 

You paused, a ‘no’ quick to push itself to the tip of your tongue, but as you watched his eyes dart around your face, his eyebrow scrunched like how it always does when he’s worried, you felt your face soften. 

“I shall.” You chose to say instead, a smile threatening to lift your cheeks as he perked up like a puppy, a spark returning to his eye. 

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” He vowed, hesitating, like he was ready to give you a kiss before physically holding himself back. 

Coughing nervously, he nodded, “I will see you then.” 

You couldn’t deny the disappointment that bubbled in your chest as he walked away, you had hoped he would offer to walk you to breakfast. 

“Well with how you’re acting, don’t be surprised if he thinks you hate him now.” Your inner voice taunted but you shook your head, you had every right to be upset with him. 

The day seemed to drag on and on, and as you dragged your feet to the dining hall after your final meeting,  you remembered Thorin had wanted to see you. 

“The gardens,” You hummed to yourself as you headed that way, seeing petals of (favorite flower) being littered on the ground. Raising a brow, you followed them, a small smile growing on your face as you approached the entrance to the gardens. 

Thorin stood staring at the stars, his back turned and between you and him sat a table. Two plates, two chairs, two water glasses. 

“So your discussion was a date?” Your voice pulled Thorin from his thoughts, his head quickly swinging to face you. 

“Not exactly, no.” Thorin spoke quickly, as if your words scalded him like a hot pan. 

“If you do not wish to stay for the meal then I will not ask you to.” He began, gesturing to the seat. “But I will ask if you’d like to take a seat so you can be comfortable while we talk?”

Biting your lip, you let out a breath before chucking off your heels, your feet sinking into the cool grass as you approached the table. 

Thorin sighed in relief, believing you were going to turn your back and leave the minute he opened his mouth. 

“What is it you wished to talk about?” You questioned, your voice professional as you took a look around the gardens. Lanterns were placed all around the garden, giving the space an ethereal glow and if you listened hard enough you’d hear the gentle noises of the creek. 

“I would like to apologise.” Thorin stated, and the statement alone nearly made you choke on your saliva. Thorin? Apologizing? 

“I… I have no reason, excuse or otherwise to explain to you why I spoke the way I did.” He furrowed his brows. “I am a horrible excuse for a husband, a failure of a One, and a failure as your friend.” Thorin spoke, his voice close to cracking before he cleared his throat. 

You frowned, not expecting this at all, especially the glassy look in his eyes. 

“I wanted to let you know I did not mean a thing I said.”

“I knew it was a mistake to ever court you, I never loved you to begin with.”  His words replayed in your head, your lip beginning to tremble. 

“Meeting you was the biggest blessing Mahal has ever given me, being able to love you and to cherish you was a gift I threw away,” Thorin’s voice finally cracked, as he let out a shaky sigh. 

“Menu tessu (You mean everything to me) and I was a fool to tell you otherwise.” He shook his head, angry at himself. 

“I love you, (Y/n), I love the way you take the blankets from me when we’re sleeping, I love the way your eyes sparkle when you’re happy, I love the way you care so much for people you love…” Thorin halted himself, looking up to the sky briefly before looking back to you. 

“But despite all of that, I have wronged you, I have wronged you and belittled you,” He frowned at the sight of your tears building in your eyes. 

“And I understand if you would like to leave.”

“Leave?” You couldn’t help but echo, causing him to nod. 

“After all I have done, I cannot expect you to want to stay with me, Men Kurdel (My heart of hearts). I made you feel inadequate, when I should be the one making you feel like a goddess. I failed you.” Tears slipped down Thorin’s cheeks. 

“That is what I wanted to discuss with you, a way to make your life easier, a way to just---” He sighed, “If there is one thing I want, (Y/n), it is to make you happy.” 

“And you think that’s away from you?” You cut him off, furrowing your brows as a tear slipped out, rolling down your face and dripping off your chin.

“I have spent days trying to make myself more like a dwarrowdam because you hate how human I am, because I want---” Your own sob cut you off, your breath hitching as you began to cry harder.

“Because I wanted you to love me again.” Your voice cracked as you barely got out the words, and at the same time, Thorin’s heart felt like it cracked in half as he watched you emotionally collapse in front of him. 

Thorin nearly leapt from his chair, moving to cradle you in his arms, yet unsure as he hovered his form close to yours. 

“Please, love me again,” You whimpered as Thorin pulled you into his arms, tucking your head into his neck as you sobbed. 

“I never stopped loving you, (Y/n),” He murmured into your ear, his arms tightening their hold on you as if this was all a dream. “I am so sorry,” Thorin wept as you clutched onto him just as tight. 

You missed him so much. 

“I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you,” He vowed, pulling away so he could look at you, tears springing to his eyes again at the look of anguish on your face. 

“Just please, come back to me, come back to our chambers, let me hold you, at least for just this night?” Thorin’s tone was on the edge of begging as he cradled your face in his palm, his forehead against yours.

Not being able to find the words, you nodded. And at that moment, he pulled you off the chair entirely, your form clinging to his as he brought you back to your shared chambers. 

Setting you down on the bed, Thorin pulled away to go to your wardrobe. 

“What’re you doing?” You tearfully asked, a whimper wanting to pull itself from your mouth at the lack of contact.

“Your nightgown--” 

“Thorin, please hold me.” His priority was your comfortableness while yours was to be as close as possible to him. Quickly shutting the wardrobe doors, Thorin returned to the bed, barely able to kneel on it before you latched yourself onto him again. 

Hugging him close, you could feel his heartbeat through his tunic. A sigh of relief left you before you looked up to him, seeing him already watching you with admiration and fear. Fear of you changing your mind and walking out of his life for good. 

“Kiss me, please?” You asked tilting your head back to make it easier for him to attach his lips to yours. Thorin’s expression softened as he captured your lips with his own. A needy whimper left your lips as you clutched his tunic in your hands, his own cupping your face as he kissed you deeply. 

Pulling away, Thorin pecked your lips one last time before pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Thorin, I need you.” You murmured, you had been deprived of his touch, of his love, for so long now. 

“I’m yours, I’m here,” He responded to you, not quite understanding your meaning, simply thinking you needed reassurance until you repeated yourself.

“I need you, Thorin.” 

His expression changed from one of concern to something sensual as he dragged his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but question, not wanting you to regret being with him when you were so emotionally fragile. 

“Absolutely.” You reassured, this time capturing his lips with yours, catching him off guard before he quickly fell into the rhythm you were searching for. 

Lowering you gently on your back, you felt the familiar pillows beneath you as you arched into him, your hips rolling into his causing a pleased groan to release from his lips, his hands finding your butt as he controlled your movement against his clothed crotch. 

“More, Thorin, please,” Your tone was leaning on the side of begging as he severed the kiss to pepper kisses along your jaw and neck. 

“I’ll give you all you want, amrâlimê,” He reassured, lifting off of you to help you with your dress, the offending fabric being tossed to the floor before he yanked off his tunic, leaving him bare chested with you in your undergarments. 

“Beautiful,” Thorin murmured, admiring the way your body was laid beneath him.

Smiling at him, you couldn’t help but admire him as well, the small scars from battles that have come and gone, the chest hair mostly covering him, the muscles beneath it. 

You were brought out of your admiring state as he began to remove your undergarments, leaving you bare with him still in his pants. 

“You’re very overdressed,” You hummed as he chuckled, the sound going straight to your core as he leaned back over you to kiss at your shoulders and the valley of your breasts. 

“Don’t worry about me, amrâlimê, focus on you.” He spoke softly as he kissed his way down your stomach, his hands coming up to tease your nipples for a moment, drawing a gasp from you. It served as a distraction as he skipped over your pussy to mouth at your thighs. 

“Thorin,” You couldn’t help but groan out as he purposefully neglected where you wanted him most. 

“Please,” You whined until you felt his breath over your pussy. 

“I said to focus on you, (Y/n),” He hummed, now massaging your inner thighs with his calloused hands. Before you could think of a response, his tongue stole the words out of your mouth as it came in contact with you. Licking, flicking, sucking, you couldn’t focus on what he was doing as the pleasure made you reach out and grab at his hair. 

Thorin swore he would make it up to you, and he planned to start right now through worshipping your body, making you feel every ounce of pleasure he could provide you. 

Looping his arms under your thighs, he held his hands above your hips, locking you in place as he feasted on you. 

“Thorin!” You couldn’t help but moan out, your tone high pitched as you felt yourself climbing higher and higher to your peak. Whether you called his name out of lust or trying to give warning, Thorin wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing for certain: you were close. 

He flicked his tongue over your clit rapidly, circling it before suckling the bundle of nerves into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he aggressively accelerated you to your climax. 

Your back arched as your grip on his hair tightened, your mouth opening in a silent moan as your hips wiggled up and down, his own grip loosening as he let you ride out your orgasm. Releasing your clit from his mouth, he kissed your inner thigh as you slowly calmed down. 

“Men lananubukhs (I love you),” Thorin whispered as he rested his head on your opposite thigh, rubbing circles on your hips. 

“What about you?” You questioned once you got your bearings again. 

Thorin shook his head, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up to pull you into his embrace. “All I care about is that you are satisfied, my beloved.” He nuzzled the top of your head, feeling a sense of pride as your thighs continued to tremble from the intensity of your orgasm. 

“I told you before, all I want is to make you happy.” 

It felt like flowers were blooming in your ribcage, something soft and delicate taking place in your heart as you curled into Thorin’s embrace, his arm around the small of your waist bringing a sense of comfort. 

While nothing could erase the past, nor the heart that came with it, you’ve decided that for now, you would enjoy the peace that resonated in your heart. 

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[canonicallysoulmates]

Hi y'all, how is everyone holding up?

It's been an.....eventful and painful couple of hours. And I want to talk about some of it....

Let's talk about j2, fan expectations, perfect relationships, disillusionment and where we go from here:

I think there's one thing that this situation really brought to the forefront and that is how much over the years we have idolized Jared and Jensen's relationship. We have put it on this pedestal and hailed it as "perfect", because we had only ever seen the highs; we knew and acknowledged that they have had rough patches but they've always seemed distant because by the time we learn about them things have already been resolved. This situation was the first time we've witnessed first hand a low point in the relationship- we had seen the good now we were seeing the other side of the coin.

For some this shattered the idealized perfect image we had of j2's relationship, I think over the years we'd forgotten one very important thing: perfect relationships don't exist. Not the way we commonly think of them with no fighting, always happy and in agreement, and no misunderstandings. The closest thing you're gonna find in real life to a perfect relationship is one that manages to work things out after a fight, one that forgives and understands.

Because real relationships are complicated. Fights happen, mistakes are made, sometimes you hurt the ones you love, misunderstandings and miscommunication occur. But these things don't always signify the end of a relationship.

Do I think things between the boys are perfect right now? No. I think they still have a lot to talk about and work through, and it's gonna take them time but they're gonna put in the effort and the work because they love and care deeply about one another. Like Jared said in his tweet sometimes the road has bumps but that doesn't stop them.

Earlier this morning on twitter I expressed myself as feeling like a child worried that their parents might get divorced. I'm gonna continue with this surprisingly fitting metaphor to say something important; I know not all of you are happy with the way that things wrapped up, I understand that many of us wanted an explanation and an apology but the only one Jensen owed those things to was Jared. We got caught up in an unfortunate situation and ended up hurt but this was never about us.

While a lot of this took place over public platform we are not entitled to their private conversations or to how they decide to solve this matter. And I know there's still a lot of anger and some can't imagine just forgiving something like this but it's like when parents have a fight and the kids get caught in the middle, the kids might end up feeling hurt and betrayed and pick sides between the two but at the end of the day the problem is between the parents and it is up to them how they choose to solve it and we have to respect it and accept it because it's their relationship not ours, how they solve things is not up to us. And there's a lot of confusion and things we're never gonna get the answers to.

I know that for some the magic of j2 is now gone and I'm so sorry about that, I know how much joy these men have brought us and I wish I had some words of comfort to offer you. But all I can think to say is that Jared and Jensen decided that their relationship is worth fighting for and if one stops to think about that...isn't that more meaningful than idealized perfection? Isn't that evidence of how much they love each other? That they're not giving up on one another.

Things after this may not be the same, but that's necessarily a bad thing: sometimes, when things are tested they come out stronger. And who's to say that won't be the case?

So, where do we go from here? Simple, we heal. That's gonna mean something different for everyone, maybe you've already moved on and feel like there's nothing more to talk about, maybe you need a break from the fandom or from the boys, or from social media, maybe you're still angry and disappointed at Jensen, maybe the magic for you is gone or you need to re-evaluate your feelings and opinions, maybe you just need a little more time to process things. That's valid. This situation put us all on edge and left us feeling vulnerable and scared and hurt. It takes time to heal. Take as long as you need.

One final thing before I wrap up, take notice of those who will use this situation to spread rumors and sow seeds of discord, it's so easy to fall prey to them after situations like this and they know it.

Tomorrow is a brand new day, I don't know what it holds. But I know in my heart that Jared and Jensen are going to be okay.

And so are we 💙

[fruitcoops]

Could we please have a prequel to the praise kink fic? Because i really want to know why were Sirius and Remus not together and what did Remus send him. I really need context

I was hoping somebody would ask for this!! The aforementioned fic is here for any curious souls (18+ please) and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for spicy texts (not exactly nudes), and smutty feelings with nothing explicit

The bus went over a bump and Sirius winced as his shins knocked against the back of the seat in front of him, connecting with the metal brace inside. “Fuck.”

“You sure you don’t want to switch?” James asked next to him. Sirius glanced down at the veritable wall of gear and empty snack bags between them, then back to James in disbelief. He shrugged, then set his headphones back over his ears. “Worth a shot.”

“Merde,” Sirius hissed as a pothole nearly took off his kneecap. He gritted his teeth and readjusted, drawing his legs closer to his chest. I want to be home, he thought, allowing himself an internal moment to whine.

He checked his phone—not even ten in the morning. It was a Saturday, so Remus would probably just be rolling out of bed, still sleepy and soft with his hair sticking up like a disgruntled cat’s. Sirius sighed heavily and stared out the window at the small town rolling past in the distance; there was little he wouldn’t give to be back with him instead of on the way to a full week of conferences.

“Why did we have to win the Cup?” he grumbled.

James lifted one side of his headphones. “What?”

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t like they had had much time to themselves before that, either—Sirius’ schedule was packed with interviews that felt more like interrogations, and Remus had been running the PT department mostly by himself while Moody took a well-deserved vacation. They were dead on their feet every night, worked to the bone with little energy left to do more than cuddle and fall asleep. Still, Sirius was grateful for every second of it.

He waited ten more minutes before giving in.

New Message To: Re

Bonjour mon loup <3

There was no immediate response, which made sense, though he was a little bit disappointed. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to make himself relax; it would be at least another six hours before they arrived at their destination, and the bad weather gathering overhead didn’t bode well for quick travel.

His phone buzzed gently and he scrambled to answer. Don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg, don’t be Reg—

New Message From: Re

Morning love!

Thanks for the bagels <3

“Fuck yes,” Sirius said under his breath. The bagels had been a last-minute decision as he crept through the house in the early hours of the morning after carefully detaching himself from Remus with a final half-asleep farewell kiss. There was no guarantee he would remember breakfast with everything going on, so Sirius figured it was a safe bet to toast them and leave them on the countertop before heading out.

Message To: Re

Pas de problem

Sleep well?

Message From: Re

Decent

Missed you :(

Sirius rested his temple against the cold window with a soft sound. He hated leaving at different times, but that was just how their life worked at the moment.

Message To: Re

Missed you too <3

Three small dots appeared for a long moment before vanishing without a trace just as his heart rate began picking up. Where’d you go? he almost wondered aloud. Something bumped his arm and James raised a quizzical brow. “Loops,” Sirius said by way of explanation.

“I figured. He okay?”

“I think so? He just…disappeared on me.” Sirius was well-aware of how plaintive he sounded—James’ teasing smile was completely unnecessary.

“Aw, Cap,” he laughed, reaching over to mess with his beanie until Sirius slapped his hand away. “It’s alright, buddy, it’s just a couple days.”

Sirius jammed his hat back on his head and flicked James on the unprotected bit of his ear, making him yelp. “Fuck off, I know you’ll be a mess as soon as Lily FaceTimes with my godson.”

“He has a name, you know.”

“Sorry. You’ll be a mess as soon as she FaceTimes with Pocket Pots, who happens to be my godson.”

James rolled his eyes. “I regret giving you that title.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

As if on cue, his phone lit up again; Sirius ignored James’ snickering as he quickly unlocked it.

New Message From: Re

When will you be at the hotel?

“That’s it?” he muttered.

Message To: Re

That was a lot of typing for one sentence

6-7 hrs, if the weather holds

Why?

Message From: Re

Sorry lmao Reg came in for a bit

Just curious :) Keep me updated?

Message To: Re

Will do <3

Tell Reg he needs to wash his sheets. It’s been over a month.

A small thumbs-up emoji was his only answer, and he tried not to be too bummed. Remus liked having things to do; sitting there and texting Sirius while he slowly got further and further away was probably not his preferred way to spend a morning. With a sigh that was likely a bit too dramatic for the situation he was in, Sirius faced the window once more and buckled in for a long ride.

He chatted off and on with the others when they stopped for lunch, but everyone was exhausted from the combination of a packed week and an early morning. Even Talker stayed fairly quiet, and James kept his headphones on for most of the trip.

Sirius finally succumbed to his tiredness and put some music on, then dozed for an hour or three while they traveled through yet another field. A few halfhearted calls of “cows” made their way around the bus, though nobody seemed particularly enthused about being packed in with double the gear due to a broken storage compartment. Donuts and gas station coffee could only do so much.

“Just crossed the state border,” Arthur called from the front of the bus as Sirius tried to ignore the cramping in his thighs. Three hours. Just three more.

His music was interrupted by a soft jingle alert and he pulled his phone out, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t caused a fire anywhere. It was unlikely given the…well, everything about him, but with Sirius’ luck it could happen.

New Message From: Re

How far?

Message To: Re

About 3 hrs. Ran into some detours

Good day?

Remus remained silent on the other end and Sirius frowned. That was rather rude, and highly unusual. Between the two of them, Remus was the one who kept conversations going past the initial question to be answered.

Message From: Re

Attachment: 1 Image

Love you! Call me when you get there : )

Sirius opened the attachment and almost threw his phone in utter shock. Skin. Bare skin everywhere, its smooth edges broken up only by tight black fabric that may as well have been painted onto the curve of Remus’ ass. “Oh my god,” he whimpered, voice barely audible even to his own ears. It had been taken in their bedroom mirror; Remus looked over his shoulder, and Sirius caught the corner of a devious smirk on his lips. “Oh, you fucker.”

Message From: Re

Thoughts? They’re cozy

Message To: Re

Did you miss the part where I said three (3) hours

Message From: Re

Nope

Second one is a guessing game and u get a prize if u get it right : )

The second photograph was more zoomed-in than the first and Sirius wracked his brain, running through his mental catalogue of Remus’ body to figure out the answer. It did absolutely nothing to calm the situation in his pants.

He had no idea what the promised prize was, but anticipation made his hands shake slightly as he carefully scanned the picture. The shadows caught it at an odd angle—it wasn’t the steady slopes of his face or neck, nor was it the strong curve of a shoulder. Not enough freckles, either, he thought.

A lightbulb lit in the back of his mind.

Message To: Re

Right hip

Another thought connected half a second later.

Holy fuck you took them off

Is that my prize?

Re?

Remus Lupin I swear to god

TEXT ME BACK

Message From: Re

Bingo!

Christ you’re impatient, I was gone for like 2 mins

He chanced a look toward Pots, whose head lolled to the side as he snored.

Message To: Re

Hey quick question why are you like this

It’s a good thing Pots is out cold bc this bus is too small to hide anything

Message From: Re

Haha sux to be you

Sirius’ cheeks heated with a whole cocktail of different emotions as he furiously typed a response.

Message To: Re

‘Sux to be you’???

Are you 13 yrs old????

Message From: Re

Do you want your prize or not u horndog

Message To: Re

YOU MADE ME THIS WAY

He took a deep breath through his nose and flexed his fingers.

Yes please

A simple smiley face—Sirius would never see those things the same—popped up, followed by an audio file. He triple-checked that his headphones were plugged in before tapping ‘play’ with an unsteady thumb.

His face went very, very hot before all the blood went straight to his groin and he closed his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand. Breathy sounds came through the heavy earphones, a little more crackly than they would be in-person; he heard Remus’ gasp catch in his throat and crossed his legs as best he could in the too-small seat, torn between thanking and cursing any higher power. He could practically see Remus’ face in his mind’s eye as the noises continued, intermixed with fragments of desperate words.

The file came to an end after what felt like the blink of an eye and a hundred years, and Sirius did not look away from the violently red seat cushion in front of him for a long moment as his brain came back online. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on.

He took a few deep breaths, though it did nothing to erase the poorly-muffled whines that still rang between his ears like church bells. Sirius huffed and turned to grab his waterbottle out of his duffel, only to make direct eye contact with Finn across the aisle.

Sirius froze.

Finn grinned.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed, too low to wake James but just loud enough to carry over the four feet separating them. Finn’s smile widened. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

“How’s Loops?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That good, huh?”

“O’Hara, I swear to god—”

“Oh, is Cap spilling secrets?” Kasey asked, poking his head over the back of the seat.

Finn opened his mouth, but the force of Sirius’ glare must have been enough to at least intimidate him a little, because he shook his head. The smug Cheshire grin remained. “Nah, just having a chat about our plans when we get home.”

Kasey groaned. “You’re a lucky man, O’Hara. Both your people get to come with you. Nat sent me a promise, like, twenty minutes ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t be available tonight from six to eight if anyone was wondering.”

“Did she really?” Finn looked back to Sirius, who bit the inside of his cheek and tried to keep his cool. Two and a half hours, and then he would be safe. Just two and a half more hours.

[op-imaginesandmore]

Well howdy again! I was wondering if you could do a scenario with Law sitting with his s/o while they are getting their first tattoo? And a scenario of Zoro training with s/o and it turns into cuteness :3

I know it’s been *checks notes* actual years since I have touched this blog, but I kinda wanted to try my hand at a few of the asks I have in my inbox. Because these are both characters I am comfortable writing for, I shall do two scenarios *jazz hands*. I know it won’t be worth the wait, because nothing is worth over two years of waiting, but I hope it is enjoyable nonetheless! And for those of you who enjoy this and my writing, thank you! My inbox will not be re-opening for the foreseeable future though, I don’t want to get anymore people’s hopes up.

Pairings: Law x GN!reader in the first, Zoro x GN!reader in the second

Warnings: Fluff, mild smut (a little bit of spice, then the teasing of spice), tattoos, tickling, non-beta’d (if that counts as a warning)

***

Law:

The gentle buzzing of the tattoo gun had become almost cathartic in the years Law had been doing the art on the side. His crew had thought it ridiculously cool that he did most of his own tattoos, and had insisted he do theirs too. Bepo was heartbroken over the fact that no matter how much he shaved, the pirate insignia permanently on his neck never seemed to be completely visible because of his thick fur.

He had shrugged nonchalantly at all of his crew’s requests, a small hint of a smile upon his easy going face as he went to collect his gun, ink, and needles.

Then you asked him, a smile on your soft lips as you kissed him down his bare chest, blankets tangled between your legs.

“Wanna pop my tattoo cherry?” You had teased, biting him playfully on the shoulder and eliciting an almost purr from the feared surgeon “I’ve always wanted to see how those hands feel” a kiss to his neck “making a masterpiece on virgin skin” a bite to the shell of his ear, and he growled, flipping you onto onto your back. A giggle escaped you, and then a pleasured moan as his skilled, slender hands played along down your body and teased at your most intimate parts.

“Where and when, but I get to pick the masterpiece and where I put it”

A soft sigh had escaped from you as he bit down on your collar and sucked. All you could do was give a flustered nod, face hot against his cheek as he kissed higher and higher before claiming your lips with his own, a smirk playing on his features.

And now, here you were, eyes watching the concentrated look of his clenched jaw as he tattooed your shoulder. You were laying on your belly on his bed, shirtless and hiding your winces in your forearms.

He had insisted it be a surprise, an uncharacteristic excitement alighting in his eyes as he teased you about it. You were excited too, trusting him to give you something you’re sure will be perfect.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun stopped, and he seemed to pause a moment after giving it a gentle swipe to rid it of the excess ink. You watched as he worried at his thumb, biting it between his teeth in thought before taking a deep breath.

“Okay, let’s get you a mirror.”

He actually sounded a little nervous. You smiled encouragingly at him, taking his offered hand and walking to the full length mirror he kept in his room on the ship. He handed you a smaller mirror to get a better angle of it, and you got your first glimpse.

An awe filled smile spread like softened butter over your face.

It was the landscape of a familiar beach, far away on your home island, a sunset shining orange and pink over crystalline waters and Law’s ship haloed in the distance.

“Where we first met” Law rumbled behind you, watching closely at your reaction “I thought that you’d want a piece of home with you, always” he paused, a hand going to the dip of your hip, finger going into one of your belt loops and fidgeting with the fabric “do you like it?”

You breathed in, hand going to the tattoo and softly caressing the scene. A smile, soft and warm, threatened to split your face clean in two.

“I love it” you smiled, and put the mirror down and turned to face your lover, pressing your bare chest to his “almost as much as I love you”

They kissed, both smiling into each others mouths and you pounced, forcing Law to catch your legs as they wrapped around his waist. He chuckled into the kiss.

“Let’s wrap that up before we get carried away”

“But we are going to get carried away, yes?” You gasped as he nipped at your neck, his strong hold on your ass tightening.

“Oh kitten” he purred, his warm breath tickling your ear “I’m gonna have you begging for more when I’m done with you”

Zoro:

“What page are you on?”

You glanced briefly at the bottom corner of the page you were currently reading.

“765”

“Okay, cool”

And he continued the push-ups.

It had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you. Once you had already finished with your own training, excersized to the point of exhaustion, you would climb up to the library, grab a new book, and Zoro would do his cool down push-ups with you criss-cross on his back, reading your book to the point where your partner was satisfied, and you’d usually go down for dinner with him.

Today, though, you were feeling mischievous.

Marking the page you were on (869), you shifted slightly, fingers running softly through Zoro’s short locks.

The swordsman stopped as he came up from the push-up, head tilting slightly to pin you with a curious look. You gave him a teasing smile as you slid off his back and then slid under him. The look went from curious to unamused rather quickly as a blush creeped up his chest from the look you were giving him.

“What?” You asked innocently, teasing smile threatening to give away your intentions “training doesn’t have to be all push-ups and weight lifting” you looked up at him with a smirk “we can work on stamina, or if you insist, I can be your weights today.” Your fingers were roaming over the peaks and plateaus of his hardened muscles, the valley between each of his abs dripping with a hard-earned sweat from the thousands of push-ups he’d been doing. His face had softened from the unamused look he had been giving you, now he closed his eyes with a shuddering breath as your hands dipped low enough to graze the hem of his black pants.

He was right where you wanted him.

Quicker than Luffy’s fists, you tickled him - tickled him — just under his armpits where you knew he was sensitive. The great and powerful pirate hunter yelped, dropping on top of you in his surprise and eliciting a maniacal laugh of your own as he tried, and failed, to escape your ministrations, straddled on top of him now. The involuntary giggles you got out of him made you give a victorious laugh of your own, before your arrogance became your downfall. Quick as a whip, the swordsman flipped you onto your back, one of his large hands gripping both of yours in a vise like grip and the other one twitching in time with the vein in his forehead.

“You’re gonna pay for that” he seethed, an evil grin and a glint in his eye promising retribution.

Jokes on him cause you weren’t ticklish, which he found so frustrating he growled, only making you snicker and attempt to tickle him back when you freed yourself from his grasp. He dodged, smacking your hands away and attempting to leap up only for you to be on him like a damn spider monkey, wrapping yourself around him like gift wrap on a present.

You nuzzled into his neck, not sorry in the slightest, but wanting to be sweet now. He harrumphed like the grump he was, the image of the two of you, him sitting cross legged on the floor with his arms crossed over his chest and you wrapped around him a funny sight to behold. You bite at his ear and his lips twitched ever so slightly.

“If I say I’m sorry, will you still wanna have some fun?” You purred, a grin playing upon your lips. Zoro scoffed, the blush on his face deepening with every kiss and nip you laid upon his neck and you could feel him turning to putty in your arms.

But just as you thought you’d get your way, Zoro grinned conspirationally.

Before you knew what was happening, he had maneuvered his way out of your grasp and was walking towards the door, picking up his discarded shirt from the floor. He gave you a sidelong look, giving you an almost predatory smirk.

“If you’re good, maybe we can have some fun later when everyone else is asleep” he shrugged “I have first watch”

And then the bastard winked before opening the hatch and descending the ladder.

You blinked a few times, scoffed at the hilarity of being one upped for the first time in your long standing relationship with the Marimo, and scrambled after him down the ladder.

[lumosinlove]

Day Four: 12/17/20

On the fourth day of Ficmas, Hazel gave to thee, Sweater Weather behind the scenes!

Sweater Weather Outtakes. Sometimes I changed it because I feel like the pacing was off, which is the case in the first big chunk, and sometimes I changed it because I just wanted the plot to be different. I wrote a lot of the end of Sweater Weather in the very beginning before most of the fic was even written, just musing to myself about my boys winning the Cup. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of being outed.

(This takes place right after they were outed.)

Sirius was doing something wrong, and that was not calling Remus for two days.

Sirius stood. “So, we’re settled.”

Alice nodded. “We have our plan. Now, as Arthur says, we just have to wait for a few punches. Good thing you’re familiar with those.”

Arthur stood, too, and slapped Sirius on the back. “I’m proud of you, kid. You’ve let no one own you, and that’s hard for someone in your position. You’ve come a long way. See you on TV, eh?”

Sirius glanced at Remus, who was talking to Alice as they walked out of Coach’s office and into the hallway. “It hasn’t been without help. Merci, Coach. For everything.”

Sirius ducked out into the hallway, half expecting to find Remus gone, disappeared, to find all of this not real. He felt like he was floating above everything, dreading the comments that he knew to expect from others, kicking himself for running, fighting to be brave about it all.

Sirius had a lot of people making decisions for him.

This one was for him to make.

There Remus was, back turned, watching Alice disappear back into her office.

Sirius’ heart pounded as he reached out and lay a gentle hand on Remus’ back. He felt like he was going to collapse with it, with wanting to be alone with him, to say he was sorry, to say how thankful he was to have him. Remus turned and looked at him, face soft. He looked as tired as Sirius felt.

“Come with me?” Sirius asked.

Remus nodded hurriedly and Sirius followed Remus towards the quiet room, where they seemed to be just making memory after memory. Remus shut the door and stayed against it for a moment, hands on the smooth wood.

Sirius took a few quick, nervous breaths. Looking at Remus, he was done trying to protect the both of them by pushing him away. He hurt without Remus and, by the set of Remus’ shoulders, he felt the same.

“Remus,” Sirius stepped forward, and Remus turned.

“I don’t care if I get fired,” Remus said suddenly, all in one breath, back against the door. “I want you. I care about you. Sirius, do whatever you need to, just talk to me about it so I can do what I need to—”

Sirius strode forward and took Remus’ face in his hands. Remus sank into his touch, like it pulled the tension coiled in his muscles. Like it was all he needed.

“I’m scared of a lot of things right now,” Sirius whispered, thumbs stroking across Remus’ cheeks. “But I’m the most scared of losing you.”

Remus’ lip shook, and he brought his hands up to hold Sirius’. “You are?”

Sirius hated that Remus even questioned it. He couldn’t seem to get close enough, pressing them together, feeling Remus’ warmth through his t-shirt.

“Remember what you said? What you said about people who told me I wasn’t good enough?”

Remus’ hands tightened around his wrists, eyes filling. He nodded. “I’d make you forget.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Sirius said softly. “But I didn’t need you to make me forget.” He stroked his thumbs through the slow tears that blinked down Remus’ cheeks. “I needed you, so I could see that they were wrong.”

Remus let out a tear filled breath, curving a hand around the back of Sirius’ neck.

“Re,” Sirius whispered, brushing their noses together. “I see now.”

Remus let out a laugh, half sob. “C’est l’heure?” He twisted his wrist, making his watch flash in the dim light. It’s time? he had asked.

Sirius smiled, tears in his throat, relief in his chest. “Oui, mon vœu.”

Remus pressed up onto his toes and kissed Sirius hard, breath hitching. Sirius let Remus clutch him close, craving the feeling of him after what felt like so long. He wrapped him up, his strong shoulders and slim waist, and buried his nose in his hair, breathing in.

They stayed like that, kissing and close in the semi-darkness. It didn’t matter if anyone walked in, Sirius suddenly realized with a thrill. It didn’t matter at all. He could hold Remus like this in the middle of the street if he wanted. His mother’s face flashed in his mind. The image of a burning jersey, his burning jersey. A chill crept in, but he pushed it back, holding Remus’ warmth closer. He was leaving tonight. He needed all the warmth he could get. It was as if Remus remembered, too, because then he was pulling back and pressing kiss after kiss to Sirius’ mouth, to his cheeks and jaw.

“I’ll miss you,” Sirius whispered. “I wish you were coming with me.”

Remus tucked his face into Sirius’ neck, hands locked around Sirius’ waist, resting at the base of his spine. “Me too.”

“My mother will be there,” Sirius’ voice shook despite himself. “Because my brother.”

“Maybe…” Remus pulled back just enough to look at Sirius. “Maybe it will help to see her. To talk to her. Maybe it will show you that she really has no say in your life. Not anymore.”

Sirius nodded. “I think, maybe, but I also…When I see her, I can’t help it, I get all…”

“Aw, baby,” Remus sighed and pressed his cheek to Sirius’ chest.

“What about you, your family? Have you talked to them?”

Remus made a guilty noise. “I texted them…I don’t know why, I just—I wanted to sort things out with you first. I couldn’t think about anything but you.”

“Remus,” Sirius sighed. “Merde, you’re so…this happened to you, too. How are you, mon loup?”

“Worried about you,” Remus laughed and then pressed his forehead to Sirius’ chest before looking up at him. “I’m…I’m actually okay. This isn’t how I wanted to tell my family but, when I talk to them…I get to talk about you, too.”

Sirius stared at him, smile slow. “Jules.”

Remus laughed again. “Oh my fucking god. I think he’s going to pass out.” He groaned. “God, I hope he didn’t see those pictures, though. That’s…I don’t know. I wish we could have surprised him, or told him together.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know yet,” Sirius offered. “Maybe we can.”

“Maybe,” Remus said, then reached up and wrapped his arms around Sirius’ neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I’ll call them tonight.”

“Text me so I can call you when I get to the hotel?” Sirius asked hopefully, and Remus nodded.

“You better.”

“You wanna come over and help me pack?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re gonna get any packing done with me there?”

Sirius shrugged, ducking to brush their mouths together. “Maybe a little.”

Remus kissed him, and they pressed together for a few minutes, mouths hot. Remus laughed breathlessly as Sirius leaned against him, their kisses turning deeper.

“This sounds crazy, given everything,” Sirius said, dragging his mouth across Remus’ jaw. “But I feel—I’m relieved. Are you?”

“Yes,” Remus whispered, tilting his head back so Sirius could kiss more of his neck. “I can have you.”

“You could always have me.”

“Yeah,” Sirius could hear the smile in Remus’ voice. “But now I can have you wherever I want.”

Sirius grinned, biting gently on Remus’ jaw. “I’ll take you back to Sid’s and you can wipe food off my face all you want, cameras be damned.”

Remus laughed out loud. “My dream.”

“Should we get out of this dark room?” Sirius said softly after another lingering kiss.

Remus smiled and nodded.

Here’s a really early piece of dialogue I wrote where the team finds out about Sirius and Remus on the ice after they win the Cup:

“Holy shit,” Finn said tearfully. “You and the fucking Captain. I didn’t even know who I was talking to, did I?”

“No,” Remus laughed, and Finn kissed him right on the cheek.

“Jesus Christ, Loops, we’re in love and we have a Cup.”

“We really do. Proud of you, Harzy. All of you.”

~

“I love you.”

It came out of nowhere, slammed into Remus like a check to the boards, like a gust of pure, clean win across a frozen pond. He was blissful and awake with it.

“I love you,” Sirius said again, whispered against his skin. “I love you, Remus, je t’aime, je t’aime, je t’aime, mon loup, Remus…”

Sirius was gasping with it, as if the words were air themselves.

Remus clutched him, hands fisting his jersey. “I love you. God, of course, of course I love you, too.”

And here’s me almost giving Pascal a career ending injury during the playoffs, which Sirius and Remus overhear the Cubs comforting Logan about. Just incase the discord wants some angsty roads to go down :)

“Oh, sweetheart,” Leo’s voice came gently, followed by a low sob, probably from Logan.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Sweetheart Sirius mouthed, and Remus shook his head.

“I’m fine,” Logan said, voice thick. “I’ll be fine, let’s go, we need to play.”

“You’re not fine,” came a third voice, Finn’s, Remus realized. “And you don’t need to be. Lo, c’mere, please let us be here for you. C’mere.”

There was the unmistakable sound of a short kiss, and with that, Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm and pulled back back down the hallway as fast as he could. They ended up in Remus’ office, staring at each other.

“I…” Sirius began. “Okay, I don’t know what we just heard, but…”

“He’s being comforted by his—friends,” Remus said. “That’s all we know because…”

“They haven’t said anything yet.”

[ialwaysgobacktoit]

Azriel surprises Gwyn for her birthday PART. 6

Guys just so you know i need to think of a better name for this bc like THIS IS GETTING BIIIIG (I have a playlist on spotify called "what would gwynriel sing" and i think i'll draw inspiration from there lol)

IT'S GWYN'S POV AGAIN (and this one's a little shorter lol i'm sorry... Rhys is in this chapter bc i honestly share the headcanon that Gwyn and Rhys would be close friends!)

MY GIRLS: @starbornsinger @madie2200 @katiebellf here it is!! And check out the Chapter List here

Gwyn couldn’t deny. She was nervous. That morning the words just rushed out about leaving the library, because she truly felt inspired by Diane’s words. She had spent the previous night awake, even if Emerie and Nesta had long fallen asleep, thinking about what she had to do next. She was feeling braver. Maybe it was because that was the best birthday she had since Sangravah, or perhaps ever, due to the circumstances. She still missed Catrin like crazy during the day, still felt that familiar ache in her chest when she worked at the library in the afternoon, or went training in the morning. But somehow, after everything that has happened in the evening, the lingering image of her sister started being more of a comfort, a companion, than the sorrow and guilt she was accustomed to.

Still, she was nervous.

She did really want to leave the library, and Clotho seemed happy, maybe even proud, to let her go. Merrill didn’t care as long as she kept working for her, at least a couple hours a day. One day, Gwyn thought that would change too. But for now, one step at a time. The night she went to the Town House and dined with the Inner Circle was one of many small steps Gwyn’s been giving these last few months towards more autonomy, independence, and strength. Towards the life she wanted for herself. And now, the day where she decided to move out of the library was the day she took another one.

And Azriel… Honestly, she thought she would be more scared about the prospect of having a mate than she actually did. Most of all, she was happy. She felt lucky and had the confidence that if anything were to happen between the two of them, they would take it slow, at her pace. She wouldn’t have it any other way. That if Azriel were to find out about the bond any time soon; or if she would summon enough courage to tell him. Because if he did know, he would’ve said something by now, wouldn’t he?

Yep. She was very nervous.

What she dreaded the most was the fact that Azriel, well, he may not feel the same once he found out. The Cauldron could be wrong, after all. And all these last months of getting closer to each other, training in companionable silence, laughing together, bantering… She was more than grateful for their friendship, but she knew that Azriel still had some things to figure out – about Elain. If he truly still felt something towards her, that was enough to strain Gwyn’s hopes for the moment. To maintain the quiet feeling to herself, and what it meant; that she was indeed worthy of happiness not only alone, but with another one.

She tried to push all those feelings aside as she was getting ready for dinner at the River House, the High Lady and Lord’s official estate. She looked at herself in the mirror, spinning side to side. It wasn’t much – after all, she didn’t have any clothes besides her robes, nightgowns and training leathers – but the outfit the House provided was more than enough. Her baggy turquoise linen pants and her white, loose crop top made her extremely comfortable, even if the latter was slightly shorter than what she was accustomed to.

She still wore the necklace Azriel re-gifted her. When he told her a few months back about the whole story, she truly understood him. He was in a bad place at the time, but so did she. And even if he had indeed made a mistake, she was glad to have it now. To know that someone gave it to her willingly, that was the thought she held on to. First person considered or not. And besides, it looked great against her freckled skin.

A gentle knock on the door of her new bedroom sounded. “Gwyn, you ready?”

“Yeah, come in”

Nesta opened the door and something sparked in her eyes as she stared at Gwyn through the mirror.

“You look beautiful, girl”

She spun on her heels and smiled at Nesta.

“I do, don’t I?”

They both laughed as they linked their arms and left the room.

“So” Nesta begun, as they walked towards the main entrance together “How are you settling in?”

“It’s very cozy, and I just love that view. The House is providing me everything I need at the moment. Thank you for inviting me to stay.” She gave her sister a grateful smile

“Well, I was serious; you can stay with us for as long as you want.”

“That means a lot.” Gwyn couldn’t contain her smile as she gently nudged her head against her sister’s.

“Don’t mention. I know you’d do the same for me.” And Nesta was right. Without thinking twice, Gwyn would have done the same for both of her newfound sisters. She was so grateful and thrilled their paths had crossed this way.

“By the way” Nesta mentioned innocently when they reached the common area “The room you chose, well, that’s three doors up from Azriel’s. If you have a problem with that, feel free to say it.”

And as she was summoning his presence, that was the moment the Shadowsinger came to vision, talking to Cassian in the balcony – waiting for them.

Gwyn drew on a breath, staring straight at him. When he caught her eye, she couldn’t help her smile. And when his eyes glittered, scanning her from head to toe, she answered quietly to her sister:

“No. I think that’ll be fine.”

*******

The River House was beautiful. Gwyn admired it as the four of them stood by the front door. It was big, but the decoration made it seem comfortable and cozy, despite its size. A true home, Gwyn thought.

Feyre opened the door, a warm smile instantly on her face.

“Come in!”

As soon as they stepped on the entrance hall, Gwyn marveled at the big painting on display. It was a portrait of Nesta as she held the line at the Pass of Enalius. Her cunning eyes seemed to look directly at anyone who came in, daring and challenging. “This is amazing.” She said, tearing her eyes from the image at last and looking at Feyre. Cassian and Nesta had already entered the living room and Azriel stood by the doorway, lingering.

Feyre was still smiling at her when she answered. “Thank you very much, Gwyn. I have others I can show you later, if you’d like.”

“I would love to. You have a beautiful home.” And she could barely conceal the emotion in her eyes as Feyre held her hand and sighed gratefully. She, maybe more than anyone, was well aware of how lucky she was to have such a family.

“We do.”

It was just when she reached the living room and beheld all of those who Feyre and Rhysand loved the most she felt Azriel’s presence still a few steps behind her, his eyes fixed upon her. A tendril of shadow curled up slightly at her wrist, as if saying We’re here. So she looked back for half a second before entering further into the room, only enough to meet his cryptic gaze and give him a half-smile. And couldn’t help the sparkling feeling in her chest when he gave her a reassuring nod.

*****

The night was going on peacefully. Gwyn didn’t say much, and it was rather content in observe. That way, she didn’t feel exposed, and also could get to know the Inner Circle better: their dynamics and bantering, how they acted around each other and discussed both serious and light topics. Elain, for example, was sitting in a chair in the corner, drink in hand. She only joined for dinner, ate quietly and then excused herself from the table for a long time. Rhys and Feyre took turns in watching Nyx, since this evening he went to sleep early. Emerie and Mor were having what seemed to be a very intimate conversation, knees touching and heads close, and Nesta and Cassian, well… They were being their usual selves.

And then she landed her eyes on the Shadowsinger. He was definitely the quietest of them all, even if during dinner he had participated in the more serious subjects of conversation and exchanged a few casual words with Gwyn. She could observe enough to notice he didn’t once glance at Elain, or her at him, and that they kept their distance. He actually seemed to have spent the evening doing the same thing Gwyn was, which was observing; except for him it was natural, a second skin. He certainly had enough time these hundred years to know well about the rest of his family, while she was doing that precisely to learn more about them. If it was easy for her to be like this, for him was instinct.

She couldn't stop but detain herself on the details of his face, though, as he now spoke to Mor, who had subtly approached him. He wore that inexpressive mask, but she could see the way his brows were slightly furrowed, his jaw set just slightly... There was something concerning him, making him uneasy. She wondered, maybe for the tenth time, when she would tell him. Or if she should let him find out by himself. And again, her heart fluttered as he put his hands in his pockets and nodded along, listening to Mor.

How could the Cauldron have chosen this? To have defined them as mates... He was the one who saved her, who’d seen her low, who helped her at the very worst moment of her life. And although she would be forever grateful for it, she was aware he had enough on his plate – to burden him with her feelings... She didn't know what to do. It was at that moment their eyes locked across the room. She didn't realize she had still been staring, and quickly darted her eyes away.

Only to meet with Rhysand’s staring at her from across the table.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.

Oh, shit. Shit. Gwyn contained her gasp. He heard her. She didn't know for how long, but he could read her thoughts.

I was just going to ask you if you were feeling okay.

She knew what he meant. But still...

"Please. Please don’t say a word". She managed to whisper to that presence in her mind.

He doesn't know? She could feel his curiosity. Although they were still staring at each other, his face yielded nothing.

"I don't think so. Please, just…"

Don't worry, Gwyn. I won't tell him.

She could've cried in relieve. "Thank you."

He only nodded at her and raised his glass, and she could feel his presence fading from her mind.

*****

When they arrived at the House of Wind, a few hours later, Gwyn was still a little uneasy. She needed to learn how to shield her mind properly; even if she felt she trusted Rhys’s word, she couldn’t feel relaxed at the thought that someone else knew about what she’d only recently discovered and were still trying to figure out.

She could barely stare at Azriel when they flew all the way back. They remained silent all the way to the House of Wind, and her gaze remained fixed on the city landscape below them, or on the skies above. Never on him or their closeness, even if she’d caught him glancing at her a few times. They landed just a few minutes after Nesta and Cassian. When she meant to let go of his hand, he held it just for a moment longer:

“Did you have fun tonight?”

She nodded, managing to bring a smile upon her face. She didn’t want him to see how nervous she was; they were never like that around each other.

“A lot. Your family is very…”

“Extravagant?”

“I was going to say kind. But they might be a little extravagant, too.”

The corner of his lips tugged upward, and she let out a quiet laugh. “Are you going to sleep now?”

“In a few hours, maybe. I think I’ll hit the training ring first.”

She nodded. His shadows swirled a little at his shoulders. She seemed to forget about her nervousness for a second as she noticed his slightly furrowed brows, as if he was concentrating: “You know you don’t have to restrain them, if it tires you.”

“They should behave better.” It was all he grunted back, slightly annoyed at his dancing shadows.

“Well, I don’t mind at all. I like them. So at least around me, you shouldn’t worry about it.”

The seconds her eyes held his stare were enough to make Gwyn feel like she could burst – or touch him, again. So she turned away and smiled over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Az.”

All she felt before reaching the stairway was a tendril of shadow gently curling around her arm.

[akumaalert]

Snippet of “Awake” - First Chapter of “Divergence”

Hey, all! Wanted to share a snippet of the first chapter (”Awake”) of “Divergence” - a fic that will offshoot from “Heavy Metal Lover.” Note that this is basically a whole spoiler for chapter 20 of “Heavy Metal Lover.” If you’re like me and see random stuff saying “Don’t click if you haven’t read...” and click anyway: Hi! Welcome, chaos lover. If you like this and want to know the context, please feel free to check out the full work on AO3.

“Divergence” should be posted within two weeks and will be open to requests for the reader (”Lucky”) to have different experiences than what she has in the original. This can mean the following:

- AUs

- Re-tellings of certain scenes of the original

- Reader-specific details included in old or new/original scenes (i.e., reader is plus sized, skinny, tall, short, etc.)

- Genderbending of any of the characters

Originally made this Tumblr to share snippets of the stories on...so happy that I could finally do that! If you want to skip writing that was in the story, you can start at “Though sleep pulled at your eyelids...”

Story contains mature elements, swearing, and explicit mention of sex. Please be forewarned.

Looking back, it would only be a wonder that it did not occur sooner.

As soon as you were alone in the bedroom, you took off your shoes and eyed the clothes Heisenberg had provided you from the factory...

...before turning to the tub.

Couldn't hurt to bathe. Love to be clean. 

That man is coming back up to this bedroom.

This is the point, self.

The logical side of your brain, for once, remained quiet. 

Though you had clearly lost all sense of sensibility, you at least moved the divider to completely block the tub from any but the most determined of views. 

The water had been scalding when you got in.

By the time you had bathed and decided that your foolishness had reached its limit, it was stark cold.

"This was stupid," you said. "Fucking stupid. What did I want? Him to join me? This is the universe saying 'Wake the fuck up.'"

Though your fingers were pruned, you dried yourself off and pulled a nightgown from the small cupboard beneath the sink.

Sheer as ever. Fuck's sake. The universe had truly saved you.

Until it hadn't.

Heisenberg rushed into the room like a rocket and you jumped as the door slammed close.

"...you here, Luck?"

"Yeah," you called out. "Um...don't come over here...gotta get dressed real quick."

"...k" called Heisenberg.

Wasting no time, you slid the gown over your body and made sure to fan out the edges as far as they would go. 

You needed no mirror to see your nipples proudly displayed through the fabric.

Mouthing a 'fuck' for good measure, you frowned.

"Heisenberg?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you mind looking away for a second?"

"From you?"

"Yes."

"...are...are you coming out naked?"

"No," you snapped.

An awkward silence greeted you.

"Heisenberg?"

"Huh?"

"You looking away?"

"Oh. Yeah. You're good now."

Peeking from behind the divider, you only saw Heisenberg's back. 

With more speed than you were familiar with, you bolted to the bed and ducked under the covers.

Once secure beneath the pillowy softness, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay. It’s safe."

You did not miss how Heisenberg whirled around.

"Oh...fuck...that was fast."

"Yeah," you said absently.

"Trying to set a fucking record?"

"Something like that."

"Mmn. I...gotta get changed."

"Okay."

The two of you stared at the other.

"You trying to get a free show or you gonna cover those peepers?"

"...I figured you would go behind the divider."

"The divider is on your side of the bed."

"Oh," you said dumbly. "Oh. Yeah...wait."

Yanking the pillow from underneath your head, you smashed it onto your face above your mouth and pressed down.

Heisenberg chuckled. "Dramatic as hell."

"Doing what you asked of me."

"...didn't formally ask you to...did I?"

Swallowing found your throat on fire.

"Mmn."

"What was that?"

"Mmn," you repeated.

"Heh...don't go into public speaking, kid."

You frowned at the ceiling and the darkness of your eyes. 

Instead of speaking, Heisenberg decided to tell you he was done by climbing in the bed beside you. It struck you suddenly that lamps had been placed in the room instead of the candles that the castle was so beset with. But when you removed your pillow, you found yourself met by more muted darkness.

"Sure you okay with this?" asked Heisenberg. "I can fuck off and go into another room. I like to bitch like a drama king, but I don't need anything crazy set up for me."

"Bed is pretty big," you said carelessly. "S'okay. We've been closer."

The chuckle Heisenberg gave was absolutely filthy.

"We have...haven't we?"

The fucking lilt would be the death of you. What a relief it was to blink blindly and stupidly at the man in peace without judgment. 

"Hey - last time I'm reminding you...what's your one job?"

"Get you out in the morning," you replied.

"Because?"

"Ah...generators...production line...something about a reset..."

"That's my girl. Nighty night, Luck."

"Night, Heis."

A turn. A breath. A feeling that you would never be able to sleep with the man so close that you could feel his body heat radiating from him like a welcome sign. 

But you awoke.

You awoke often.

You awoke in the middle of the night from a dream you could barely recall and all the images of Alcina at the forefront of your mind. 

You awoke in Heisenberg's arms and sobbed into his chest as he clung you to him just as sweetly as any of your snowy imaginings. 

"Fuck you doing awake? No...shh...it's okay...shh...you're alright. I'm here. I've got you."

Though sleep pulled at your eyelids, you nudged your head up to feel the spikes of Heisenberg's scruff. You had to stay awake. Could not return to sleep and Alcina awaiting you with her long talons and even longer legs.

"Nightmare?"

You nodded into his neck. 

"Mmn. Have those myself...think you can go back to sleep? Don't think it's quite time for me to leave yet if you just wanna yak about it or something."

Swallowing, you exhaled. "Don't wanna go back to sleep."

With a grunt, Heisenberg sat up to leave you curled on the sheets.

"Just checking the time..."

When Heisenberg turned to pull something from the floor, you noticed that your eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark. Enough so that you saw the loose movements of his arms and realized that he had gone to bed without a shirt. 

"Fuck...two in the morning..."

"I'm sorry," you said, tensing. But Heisenberg was mumbling and coming back to you with open arms. "Sorry I woke you..."

"S'alright," he said, yawning afterward. "Gotten less sleep and done more stupid things after than make sure the reset doesn't fuck up the factory..."

As he spoke, you could feel one of his hands rubbing up and down your arm a bit too roughly. An awkward and well intended move to comfort you.

"Still...I'm sorry...you need all the sleep you can manage to get. I don't know how much work the whole factory thing will be..."

"Honestly not much as long as I get back in time," he said, hand squeezing your arm for good measure before returning to that same rough rubbing motion. "Could probably even come back here afterwards...heh...that would spook that sixty-foot snake."

You laughed a sleepy laugh and settled further into his grasp.

"Mmn...like a fucking little bunny...cuddling into me and shit..."

"I can stop...pull away..."

Heisenberg's hand stopped rubbing you in favor of clutching you to him.

"Shh...you're talking nonsense. Need some sleep."

"Heis..."

"Shhh..."

"Heis, you can just tell me that you like it when we cuddle."

When he tsked and laid his chin on your head, you smiled. It felt so much like that day at the stronghold.

"Why would I say that? Not in the business of lying to people."

Lying...yes...because what we are doing now is causing you so much distress...

"Well," you said, smiling. "I'll say it then. I like it when we cuddle. Especially in bed. Feels more comfy than cuddling in front of the lycans."

A shiver - as though Heisenberg had been beset by the cold - ran through his body.

"Oof...y'okay?"

"Yeah, yeah..." he said absently. "Uh...actually...we might wanna go to sleep after all..."

"Mmn?"

"Yeah...early morning..."

"You mind if I hold onto you for a while? This...this actually helps from the nightmare."

The only way you knew how to describe Heisenberg in that moment was jittery. His movements were fine on their own but were conducted with such awkward quickness as to be alarming.

When he did not answer you, you looked up at him through the dark.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

A beat of silence and then another.

"Nothing's wrong." Quick words to match his quick movement.

"Heisenberg..."

"It's Heis."

"...you...Heis...something isn't right. Just talk to me. In English, preferably."

What you could only assume was a curse in German fell from his lips.

"I...fuck's sake, buttercup...I don't know how to...if you...this was such a bad idea...so fucking STUPID."

"What?" You paused, gathering enough evidence from his huff. "Sleeping together?"

"Yes."

"It was your idea."

"I FUCKING KNOW THAT, OKAY?" he hissed. "Just...I thought...earlier...it made more sense...this made more sense..."

"Glad something did because I am completely and utterly confused," you admitted. 

"You're confused? You started flirting with me." Heisenberg grumbled something low and rough. "Fucking gave me ideas...false hope...so I thought...guh I'm such a fucking idiot..."

Hope began to fuel you too. Fuel you and feed into the most terrible of terrific ideas.

"Are you...whatever you're trying to say...I was flirting with you. That wasn't false. Honestly...I was in the bathtub just moments before you came in hoping you would join me."

"...you what now?"

You could not help but laugh. The fact that you could not see Heisenberg's expressive face only added to the hilarity as you imagined a hundred different emotions running through that scarred skin.

"I took a bath...a long one...hoping that you would come up here in the middle of it and offer to join me...figured one thing could lead into another and the bed was here anyway..."

The pauses in between Heisenberg's voice could only endear you to him. He seemed every bit lost for words. 

"You...are you talking about...what are you talking about?"

"Sleeping with you," you supplied with a shrug. "What are you talking about?"

"Sleeping...you...ah...I wasn't...I wasn't mistaken? Shit...I...I may or may not have a fucking stiffy over here...because the cuddling is...something you enjoy so much."

"Oh?" you purred. The chance of escaping in the delights of Heisenberg’s body made your body positively teem with anticipation. But you could not forget your own actions...the last time you had seen him in such a vulnerable state. Losing some confidence, you glanced at the darkness of the bed instead of his body. "Umm...I want to touch you...want to...would it be okay if I touched you?"

"Yeah...course. You've touched me before."

"No...I mean...is it...fuck...can I jack you off?"

For a long while, Heisenberg said nothing.

The next thing you heard was a rattling spit.

"OUCH GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKER!" he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"Pinched myself."

"You...why are you pinching yourself?"

"Because I'm clearly fucking awake but clearly dreaming at the same time because yes, I would enjoy that very much. Please. And thank you."

"Are...are you sure?"

Heisenberg's hand came down heavy but without malice on your neck.

"OW!"

"Shit...I was trying to grab your hand."

Providing your hand to his, you hitched a breath when he splayed it against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against your palm. Wrenching your knees upward, you brushed against that heated length between his legs.

"I...um...we should probably talk about boundaries before I do this."

"Huh?"

"Is this...are you okay with me just jacking you off?"

"Just? This is a goddamn holiday. Marking it on the calendar. Nothing little about it."

"Dumbass. That's not what I'm saying," you said, scratching his chest somewhat affectionately to show him that you meant no harm. "Do you...are you wanting anything more? Because I'm on my period...I'm up for it...but it might get messy and I know that's the last mess I want a certain someone finding."

"We...we can do more? More like..." You heard him take in a shaky inhale. "Can we...is like full blown intercourse on the table?"

"Sure...long as you don't call it that again," you said, shaking your head.

Grumbling and tensing his shoulders, Heisenberg whined when you dropped your touch to round one of his nipples.

"What the fuck else am I supposed to call it?"

"Sex. Fucking. Making love," you added jokingly. "Um...ah...you know...I hadn't thought about it, but maybe you genuinely didn't know. German to English...or...ah...Romanian to English. Might not have those words."

"I like making love," he said with certainty in his voice. "Let's do that. Make love."

You had expected him to laugh at that suggestion if he acknowledged it at all. But there he was giddy and practically giggling over the most flowery option he was given. 

"Okay...are there any places that you don't like being touched?"

"Not that I know of," he admitted. "Are there...is there somewhere I shouldn't touch you?"

"Not necessarily...just...no going down on me this time. Sex is one thing-"

"Making love."

"-us um...us making love is fine, but I don't want to get eaten out while my period is going on. And don't show me your dick after or comment on the blood...just...get rid of it. Please. And...and nothing too crazy to start out with. I'm not a prude, but don't want to be choked or anything harsh like that. Just...vanilla for our first go. Then we can see where things take us."

"Roger that! Heard loud and clear," he said, leaning his face to kiss your forehead. For all the lack of a relationship, Heisenberg was making you feel far much more mushy and cared for than your ex ever had. You let your hand round his stomach slow and soft in response.

"Thank you. We...if you want to, I'll jack you off for a bit before you grab the condom."

"The...I don't have one of those."

That made you freeze. 

"Not even in this room? Your chambers? If you don't feel like getting up, I can grab them from wherever they are."

Heisenberg went uncharacteristically quiet.

"Heis?"

"None in this room," he said plainly.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable by asking...but...is that typical? You having sex without a condom?"

It worried you. Here you were all too willing to have him fuck you into the mattress while he could be having all sorts of unprotected sex with who knows who in the village. He was attractive - a lord. Anyone with a pair of eyes could easily fall in lust if not love with him. 

Anyone with ears too...fucking sexy ringmaster voice...

"Not typical, no."

"No? Has it just...been a while?"

"Never."

"Huh?"

"Never made love before."

That sent you sitting up in bed.

"WHAT?"

"What?"

"HEISEN..." you lowered your voice, realizing he was growing tense. "You've never...I don't believe you. Quit joking. Not the time."

"Not joking," he grumbled. "Why would I joke about that?"

"You're just..."

"I'm what?"

"You're you," you said as if it clarified anything at all. "You're a lord in a small town. You have a face of a model. Not...not trying to open old wounds, but you're absolutely gorgeous underneath all those layers..."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Fatass McGee will be strutting the runways any day now."

"Oh my god...you're serious." Lying back down, you brought your hand to the clothed length between his legs. He had grown noticeably more soft since the brush of your knee, but you could feel his cock twitch when you cupped him. "So...no one? Not even foreplay or...what about kissing?"

"...ahhh...nah...none of that either...you're probably the first person to see me naked since I was a little kid...well...maybe a few folks in Constantinople. Got sloshed one time and woke up naked tied to a lamppost. But...other than that...all you."

There seemed to be no end to the surprises that would fall from Heisenberg's mouth. You stared at him - or the inky shadow that was him - and ran teasing fingers up his shaft.

"I uhh...fuck...I'm pretty sure anyone who saw me then is dead by now though," he supplied.

"Heis...you're so fucking ridiculous." 

[obsessingmuch]

You've had a makeover! I like the contrast of the black and white dots to the rainbow ones. Did you find out if your person is okay?! I also did not realise I had ignored your questions. Please forgive my oversight :-(( I don't play fortnite anymore! My macbook Does Not Like it and I did download it onto the playstation but couldn't be bothered getting to grips with the controls so I gave up </3 But I did win a game once! Do you always do the classic 'gotta be the last one left out of 100' or do

you ever do that one where there's like two teams? Do you play solo or do you have fortnite friends? Other things I am into atm: sudoko, origami, and Taylor Swift. What are some subreddits you enjoy? i will say that I do spend a couple of hours a day on tiktok :/ but usually only when I go to bed and when I'm on my lunch break at work for some mindless entertainment. I don't feel good about it. But I get some chuckles every now and then. And there are always cute dog videos so who could say no?!

I'm glad it's not just me that's nostalgic for lockdown! Feels a bit weird to say that but I genuinely miss the one way systems at supermarkets and the like. I haven't seen any films on your two most recent lists (except for Mrs Doubtfire) but I have watched some youtube commentaries on the Vanessa Hudgens ones and got the impression that they weren't that great :/ Who are you watching on youtube these days? I did like Folklore and Evermore! I didn't love Folklore too much at first (as it came out when I wasn't listening to her all that much, and I don't really like soft-acoustic-y music so much) but it's really grown on me over the last couple of years and these days, she's all I listen to <3 From Folklore my faves are My Tears Ricochet and The Lakes, and from Evermore my faves are Champagne Problems, Gold Rush and Cowboy Like Me. Which album re-record are you most looking forward to? My other fave songs are Long Live, All Too Well, Out of the Woods, and Forever and Always.

I'm also very sorry for the amount of notifications you're about to get from me. BUT do you still follow Jedward and what they're up to?!

anon you are back!! I was wondering how long it would be until you replied again, if it would be weeks or months or years lol. I wasn’t expecting days! (I also didn’t know how long ago you sent the previous messages cos I had no timestamps in my inbox when I replied to them - when was it??)

I did have a makeover. the garrett watts sidebar image didn’t seem appropriate anymore so I just pulled my most random/non-fandom-related gif of mine out lol.

my person hasn’t posted since about 2019. I’m hoping they’re ok and just taking another tumblr break cos they’ve done that before.

and I forgive your oversight :D I understand the vibe of your macbook Not Liking It. mine didn’t either, so I installed Windows a couple of years ago and play from there (and also have the game graphics set incredibly low and my fans on an increased speed. it does ok tbh). amazing congrats on your win!!! I do have a couple of friends so usually play duos/trios - it’s very, very rare for me to play solos. I think I would get lonely and frustrated dying alone lol. on occasion I play squads with random fill friends (but sometimes those people are not so nice). maybe you need to install windows tbh and resume your fn career :D

subreddits, mostly I read AITA and relationships ones. so basically just people complaining about their life problems lol. how about you? which good ones am I missing?

youtube has been showing me tiktoks as youtube shorts so I have been spending lots of time on these for the past few weeks. currently the algorithm thinks I want to see a mixture of: engagement rings being handcrafted, a comedian lady who pretends to be an annoying mother/teacher character, a man cooking lunch for his wife, horses getting new horseshoes put on, golden retrievers, cakes being frosted, and tiktok fashion girls trying on clothes. what all things does tiktok show you??

the Knight Before Christmas was not good. BUT I did kinda like the Princess Switch ones lol. they were fun and easy to watch if you just want a happy albeit cheesy and I’m-definitely-older-than-the-target-audience-for-this movie and not a Serious Cinematic Marvel. 

youtubeeeeee I’m watching mostly hmmm. (edit: this was originally going to be a short list but it turned out longer than I expected): simply nailogical (esp. her podcasts), jammidodger and shaaba (highly recommend), molly burke, tom scott, ryland adams, hannah witton, jessica kellgren-fozard, carrie hope fletcher, louise pentland, vlogbrothers, a few fortnite youtubers, and the Cut and Jubilee channels. do you watch any of those? who are you watching?

I am a Bad Fan maybe cos I’m not getting the Taylor’s Version songs. I have all my music in iTunes so it’s not like I’m streaming and giving revenue for the old versions, but I like how the old ones sound for nostalgia and don’t want 2 of everything. but I have listened to some of the new ones to compare. and I have been getting any new ones that were previously-unrelated / From The Vault etc. sooooo I guess I’m not excited for any re-records specifically, but I will be interested to see how they sound. do you have the old or new versions?

jedward no lol. are they up to anything? occasionally I stumble across a tweet of theirs and I’ve noticed they now swear openly in tweets which I found amusing and not unexpected. and generally call out people for bad human rights / sexism / other isms. which I guess matches with 2011/12 jedward except now it comes with less sneakiness and more swears lol. 

this is such a long post. I hope my multitude of decimated followers have had a most enjoyable read :D

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct: Chapter 6

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6200 (yup, the words ran away from me!)

Warnings: Language, mention of death.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

To an untrained eye, need and love are as easily mistaken for each other as the real master's painting and a forgery.

Deb Caletti

Chapter 6

A low lit room- more fitting of an old jail than an art lock up- surrounds you with cool air that tickles the tiny hairs on the back of your bare neck, as you bend over double, digging through the equipment in the abyss of your bag. A gap forms between the waist of your jeans and t-shirt, revealing the tiniest bit of the lace edging from your bra band- a tantalising fact that catches Marcus’ breath, alerting you to his presence, “Hey, you ok?” you ask straightening up, “Did you find something?”

“Yeah, uh sorry. Think I just had a bit of dust in my throat,” Marcus stammers, utterly thrown by that glimpse of your underwear, as he tries to clear his throat and remember the reason he was standing in front of you, “So, uh, yeah, um- we found a couple of signatures from Paul Guillaume and Albert C Barnes- weren’t they the guys we had to look out for?”

Looking over the papers with your cotton gloves still on, you pour over the shaping of the letters that made up the signatures of the possible previous owners, “I dunno. I’m not convinced- the positioning of the letters seem odd- like a crude rendition of someone’s signature. Almost like someone’s faking their mum’s signature to get out of PE class. Only the thing is, you know the movement of your mum’s hand as she signs something because you’ve watched her do it a million times before. Those signatures do not seem real to me, personally.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise as he crosses his arms, desperately trying to hide the smile that was creeping across his face. “You faked your mom’s signature a lot?”

“Poacher turned gamekeeper,” Élodie remarks as she crosses between the two of you, straightening your t-shirt up where it has caught upon the back of your jeans.

Marcus tries not to let his disappointment show. Calm down, Pike, you’re hardly a horny seventeen year old. But that was how you made him feel and certainly the uncomfortable pressure building in his jeans might prove otherwise.

“I don’t think we will necessarily manage to get this solved today,” you begin, “The section that Élodie looked at dates it reasonably within the time period but those signatures are now tingling my spidey senses. It’s probably going to need to be sent for further investigations at a proper lab. I’m about to look at it using the stereomicroscope- do you want to have a look with me?”

Marcus nods eagerly, earning a grin from you, and you start setting up the pieces you need- ensuring that the video camera is linked to your iPad so Marcus can see everything you are looking at in real time along with you.

Marcus drifts closer to the painting. You haven’t seemed to notice his closeness yet, and he half hopes you don't, as from where he’s standing the aromatically pleasing scent of your shampoo wafts dreamily from the dark shimmer of your hair.

“So tell me more about this piece. I love listening to you speaking about art. You make it seem like I’m looking over the artist’s shoulder as they’re painting it.” Marcus remarks, smiling when he notices the flush creeping over your cheeks that his words bring.

Impressed by your decision to play into his words rather than focus on how awkward you feel at the compliment, he loves how you fan yourself and flutter your eyelashes at him, “Monsieur, you flatter me! Well, looking at this piece it’s not difficult to imagine that Soutine may have had a longstanding beef with food. Though he was fascinated by food and frequently painted these edible arrangements, this stands as one of his most memorable and dare I say, raw interpretations.”

At these terrible puns, Marcus pretends to drum, “Ba da boom tish!”

“Do not encourage her!” Jacques shouts from the other side of the room where he is labeling the bags for the slide samples that Élodie had been collecting, “Once you acknowledge one pun, she’ll ensure that everything she says has one. Queen Nush of the dad jokes!”

“So at the meat of Soutine’s obsession,” Marcus half-snorts, half-groans, intending to encourage you as you add, “You find that a combination of not having anything to eat due to extreme poverty and using what food the family did have to practice Kosher traditions is largely to blame for his playing with his food rather than eating it.”

Marcus watches you flick through your phone so as not to interrupt the finally clear feed from the stereomicroscope focussing on how you bite your lip. You quickly google the Rembrandt that you want him to look at. “The remains of this omnivorous…”

“Oh you’re still gonna continue with that theme, yeah?” Marcus’ feels his lips curve at your humour, shaking his head at the ridiculous word play.

“Oh, I can keep this going all day,” you say with the cheekiest of winks, and Marcus hopes you will.

*****

“Omnivorous obsession,” you continue, “was based on his adoration of Rembrandt whose 1655 Flayed Ox was frequently salivated over by Soutine on his regular visits to the Louvre. Rembrandt’s carcass is noted for its vivid colors but when compared to Soutine’s, which was coated almost daily with fresh buckets of blood by his assistant, Rembrandt seems downright dull. The smell of rotting beef and fresh blood became so oppressive that neighbours called the police, who almost threw away the fermenting flesh before, what I can only assume was the Frankenstein-esque assistant, shooed them away like so many flies covering a carcass.”

“Always with the focus on the graphic elements of art,” Jacques calls out with a snort at your zombie-like impression before receiving a sharp nudge to his ribs to focus on the job Élodie has asked him to complete.

“Art is just a reflection of the things that humanity finds interesting and what can be more interesting to a temporal being than their own mortality or that of the creatures and objects that surround it?” At this statement, you tug Marcus’ coat sleeve away from the piece to come and look at the feed you have set up for him, “Come on you, we’d better focus or Élodie will have my guts for garters for not concentrating on what I should be doing!”

Marcus allows you to lead him over to a black metal folding chair to look at the feed, “So what are we looking for, Mademoiselle Pathologist?”

“Hah, did you just call her mademoiselle? She’s too old for that!” Élodie shouts in your direction.

Refusing to respond verbally to Élodie’s rudeness, you flick a finger up at her and turn back to Marcus, “Madame Pathologist will do- I am comfortable with my age. So what we are looking for are any bits of difficult to detect damage, fading, repairs and the ways paints and other coatings are distributed. Also if there are any strange fibres that we can spot using the double lens.”

Hovering the microscope over the bottom left hand corner, you start to scan the piece, “So what we’re looking for are any irregularities that we might not have picked up on a first scan that Élodie did to take the samples. The stereomicroscope helps us to understand the art in more 3D terms- so we can see something that generally looks flat becomes a landscape of hills and valleys.”

“Why’ve you chosen that corner to start?” Marcus probed inquisitively, wondering as to whether there’s method in your madness.

“Just felt like it!” You shrug and snort at his look of mock horror. “Nah, it’s where the signature is and ‘cos I’m not sure about the signatures on those documents you found, I want to take a closer look at Soutine’s over here. Kinda feels like a sensible place to start.” Your eyes squint as you drink in the images in front of you, snapping up when you hear a small grunt of consternation from your boss, “Have you found something, Marcus?”

“That’s weird. It kind of looks like the signature has been scratched into the art,” Marcus squints at the signature on the screen, reaching over to the table where the possible documents with Guillaume and Barnes’ scrawls lie, “Also, I am not an expert in graphology but the letter e looks consistent across the three names- they all arch at the same point.”

“Waouh- that’s a good catch,” Élodie agrees, pulling Jacques with her to look over Marcus’ shoulder at the finds upon the feed.

Jacques escapes Élodie’s clutch and starts to flit back and forth, checking between the painting and the feed with a mild look of confusion on his face, “This is preposterous. Why have they done the signature in a different medium to the one used to paint it? It’s almost like they want to be caught.”

“It looks like it has been lacerated by a needle,” Marcus scratches at his patchy beard in astonishment, “Spot on Jacques, it’s like they can’t even be bothered to hide their tracks.”

“Ok, I think we may have found one of our fakes,” a smile slowly creeps across your face, “Obviously, we can’t be definite -there are still so many tests that need to be done but I don’t think this is an original,” you shake your head with a half smile, “Élodie, I think we need to organise for this to be couriered back to the labs.”

An excited squeal from Élodie and a soft oof from Jacques puncture the cool air as she flies into his arms, squeezing him in sheer delight. As the pair embrace with joy, you and Marcus are left there- Marcus on the fold out chair, gripping the iPad tighter than necessary- I swear that man never quite knows what do with his hands- and you sitting cross legged on the floor with the stereomicroscope lying in your lap- grinning like idiots at each other.

✪✪✪✪✪

More coffee and cakes are devoured in the aftermath whilst you await a courier to come and pick up the likely forgery- you are not entirely sure that the blood in your body hasn’t entirely transformed into sugar and caffeine at this point. After checking alongside Élodie that the painting had been carefully loaded into a van, you sit next to her on the pavement outside the auction house.

“Do you know where Marcus and Jacques are?” you question as you sink onto the dusty ground next to her.

“Yeah, they’re inside taking an informal statement from the auction house owner before the local police quiz her properly,” Élodie rests her temple to your shoulder, “Today has been wonderful. I really like Marcus - from what I have seen of him. I think this will be a good move for you.”

“I do miss having you here though. Today feels like the first time I have had both of my arms. Since you returned to London, it has felt like a part of me has been missing.”

Hauling a deep breath into your lungs to try to quell that gnawing ache in your belly, you turn to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “I am sorry, El. To be honest, I don’t even know where to start explaining what happened or even truly understand how everything fell apart so badly.”

The mountain wind decides to blow an icy gust that cuts through your clothes to the bones of you, “It was a normal undercover job- we’d been watching the comings and goings of the gang from a inside a local greasy spoon for ages-just trying to get a clear idea of what their patterns of behaviour were and it just all went South so quickly.

“Being a tiny caff on an industrial estate by the Thames, it was open 24 hours and the day it happened, it was during the middle of a night shift when the gang decided to up the ante. They’d obviously clocked that we weren’t exactly who we said we were,” you snort softly at the memory, “I mean Jas’ accent was a bit sus for being a short order cook but still.

“The gang openly marched the illegal immigrants out of the container and made them kneel in front of the caff as a lure to us, trying to get us to drop our cover. These fucking innocents just trying to find a better life and the evil fuckers just started executing them- one after the other. Jas just ran out there straight away- dropping his cover without any proper back up, a flak jacket or anything. His stupid, kind self trying to save at least one of them without a backward glance.

“I said the code word so we could have armed back up within minutes but I knew it wouldn’t be there quickly enough,” your voice starts to falter as your throat tightens over the words.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, chouchou,” Élodie squeezes the thigh nearest to her.

“I know but I should tell someone, somewhen. You’re probably one of the few who would understand.”

You pause, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you allow that stagnant, putrid box of memories to reopen, flooding your senses with the foul gangrenous smell of the past.

Having called in backup, you make the decision to slip out of the back door of the caff and run for cover behind the large communal bins. The incessant rain was giving zero sign of stopping and the noise was deafening as it bounced off the metal sides and drummed upon the tarmacked surface. You could barely hear the desperate negotiations that Jasper was trying to make for the lives of these poor, exploited humans.

From here, hiding amongst the shadows, you could catch the eye of one of the kneeling men and signal to him as to when he should try to make a run over to you. He’d reached his little finger out to the person to his right to alert them to the plan. Achingly slowly, tiny gestures had passed down the line of five remaining fellows, from person to person, notifying them of your presence and how you were attempting to save them.

You counted them down and then screamed for them to run. Gunshots rang throughout the air as they made a break for the supposed safety of the bins by you as blue lights and sirens swirled, announcing their arrival between the shipping containers. You counted them as they ran for their lives past you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

But the gunshots…

Jasper.

As you ran to your former partner’s lifeless form, three more shots rang through the air, taking out the associates who’d been ruthlessly gunning down their illegal chattel. Jasper lay there in the harsh headlight of the armed response unit car, his apron and chef’s jacket were no longer the starchy white that glowed under the strip lighting of the kitchen but his skin had taken on a similar pallid tone as his life force pooled around him, staining the oily surface with a bloody bloom. Knelt there with the grit from the floor biting into the skin of your knees, you held his head in your lap, stroking his cold cheek as a shadow cast across you both.

“He’s gone, Nush.”

Tears course down your face in tiny rivulets and spill into Élodie’s hair, “If I had said yes at Fourvière. If I had accepted the position St Vincent had offered me, he’d still be here. He would still be here.”

After putting a hand on each cheek, Élodie then taps you upon the nose making your red-rimmed, watery eyes look into hers, “You didn’t shoot the gun. You didn’t kill him,” she says so matter of fact that you almost feel an inclination to believe her, “You have to stop blaming yourself at some point.”

“He made the decision to go out there without back up or any protection. If I remember correctly, it was Jas’ decision to head back to London too, effectively ending the freedom you had out here,” she adds gravely, “Everyone has to make decisions, Nush. Ours just tend to have more life or death outcomes and remember, the choice you made- you saved five people.

“As for marrying him, you didn’t want to and I don’t know quite how to clearly say this but you don’t have to marry someone because they ask you. Or because you think it’s the right thing to do. You saying no to him, had zero implications in how his life ended,” Élodie smooths a tendril of hair that has escaped your plait behind your ear, “Your relationship didn’t have a true balance because you spent so long trying to hide it- everything feels so much more amplified if you are constantly watching your coattails.”

Rubbing the exhaustion from the onslaught of emotions from your eyes, you turn to face Élodie, “What if that’s it? What if that was my chance of happiness?”

“Okay so you’re now fully in the ridiculous territory, idiot! So bloody naive,” Élodie rolls her eyes and slaps your knee, “ There’s no one person out there- nobody is perfect for you. There are just people who enter your life at different times and there is a certain compatibility…”

“Like you might want to jump their bones,” you giggle through the snot.

“Yep, that definitely helps! But after a while, other stuff comes up and again, you have to make those decisions whether you want to move to the next one or work at the relationship you have,” Élodie says frankly, “ Your first proper grown up relationship wasn’t ever truly allowed to develop into something normal and healthy but please don’t ever think for a second that is all you deserve or will ever get.”

“More happened than just Jasper’s death,” you confide in your ally.

“I know sweetheart. You tell me when you are ready,” Élodie pats your leg, “You will always have Jacques and I here for you. And I reckon Pierre would take you back in a heartbeat if you ever need to escape Marcus, not that I think you will.” You feel a little confused by Élodie’s last statement but don’t have time to swell upon it as the door to the auction house swings open.

Noticing two figures- one wiry and talking rapidly with his hands, the other broad and showing great interest in what the other has to say- walking towards you, you offer Élodie a hand up from your pavement seat. You feel a gentle hand brushing over your bottom and crane your neck to see who it belongs to, “Well, I’d hate for you to make my car any dirtier,” Élodie winks at you.

✪✪✪✪✪

The trip back to Lyon didn’t allow for any more rest for tired eyes against cool car windows. Excited chatter filled the car as between the four of you, you were all busily beavering away from making shouted calls to the science laboratories in Interpol- calling in favours to get your samples tested first- to fingers tapping on screens, flinging emails back to offices trying to inform everyone who needed to know. Although the journey was far longer, it felt as though five minutes had passed from the moment you’d left the auction house- the exhaustion from your disclosure to Élodie giving way to the adrenaline pumping through your veins with the excitement of having found a piece of the puzzle.

Jacques quickly parks in the Interpol car park, where you all pile out of the car, heading back towards the offices. As you walk together, you hear Marcus answer the phone to Andy back in London, filling him in on the events of the day- thankfully leaving out the parts where he’d talked you through a panic attack or accidentally held hands with him.

You didn’t need anyone else in the London offices thinking you were unprofessional. There were enough of those already.

Marcus. So much of the fear has ebbed away about the new role, and in such little time, thanks to your new boss. This straight-speaking American, who makes you speak up and want to stand up a bit taller. For the first time in what felt like forever, work doesn’t feel like a chore to pay the bills for a small, damp flat in South London. It isn’t so much the work as you know that like the back of your hand- it was that feeling of appreciation.

That feeling that someone sees what you can offer and values your contributions- not just as some rookie in an established office but as an equal. You know you are lucky- you get to use all the knowledge from your art history degree (oh how your family had groaned in consternation- doctor or lawyer- those were the proper options. Y’know, a proper career path not something seen as being so wishy-washy) and use it to protect the beauty of art from the shadier underbelly. Not that you could ever explain that part to your mum or her sisters, who just thought you were in some IT job with ridiculous hours.

In fact, it was the first time. You’d worked your way up from being a rookie with Stephens and although you'd got to work in a field with which you had a borderline obsession, you were still always seen as the new kid, even though others came and went after you’d joined and that got a bit wearing, especially when you’d hit your thirties and as you edged ever closer to your forties, it had bordered on the ridiculous.

But Marcus. He didn’t just listen to what you had to say, he positively encouraged you to speak- never expecting you to hold your tongue or wait for the “grown ups” to stop talking.

“Hey, Earth to Anushka,” those ridiculously warm eyes try to call your attention into focus.

“Sorry, heard you on the phone to Andy and took the opportunity to disappear with my thoughts for a bit. It’s been a bit of a day, hasn’t it?” you mutter as the knuckles of your hands almost rub holes in your eye sockets.

“Yeah, I thought we’d find zip on our first check as a team but that was something else,” Marcus nods, pouting his lips in thought, “I honestly thought it was an authentic piece when I found those signatures- just shows how careful we have to be with these crooks.

“You look about ready to collapse- that sleep on the way over, not help? I was about to ask if you fancied grabbing some dinner together but you’re dead on your feet.”

“Didn’t really get much sleep last night. Was kind of dreading what today would bring but,” your hand extends to squeeze Marcus’ forearm, “But you’ve made today far less painful than it could have been.” You feel a warmth creep through you, blooming from the spot where Marcus has placed his hand on top of yours, his thumb unconsciously tracing small circles upon your skin.

“How about a slow walk back to the hotel, we grab some pizza on the way back and sit and watch Sharknado 4 this evening?” you suggest, still not removing your hand from his arm, ”I need to eat something other than breakfast pastries today.”

“Hmmm, I would say that dinner is the best time for breakfast food but yeah, probably best that we find something a bit more substantial,” Marcus relents reluctantly like a petulant child as Élodie and Jacques turn towards you both.

“Oh, why the sad eyes, Marcus? Has she been mean to you? ” Élodie teases, “We have contacts- we can make her disappear…”

Jacques shoots you a despairing look from under his arched eyebrow. The aching sadness returns in your tummy- you’ve missed them so much and missed out on so many special moments with them, “Oof, hey Nush! This isn’t goodbye- no matter the threats Élodie makes upon your life!”

Élodie leans in to sandwich you between the pair of them, “No, Marcus has given me your phone number and your email address- and he has promised me that even if you don’t respond to my communications, that he will send regular updates.” You look over at Marcus, who sends you a sheepish grin and a slight shrug of his shoulders, flashing that goddamn dimple in his right cheek.

“Élodie, are you going upstairs to get everything ready?” Jacques questions his wife, “ There’s only twenty minutes before I need to pick up Xavier from my parents so I’d probably better head off. Can you grab a taxi home afterwards? Nush, I love you and I will see you soon.

“Marcus, it has been a pleasure. I will ensure that all the details are shared with you in London. Let’s keep the lines of communication open between us, oui?” A firm handshake was not the only thing to pass between the men, as Jacques pats Marcus on the back and they wordlessly share a thought, Marcus’ eyes flickering back to you with a small smile.

“Come on, let’s find food and a film before we collapse,” Marcus beckons you towards him with a wave back to Élodie and Jacques before they head off in their respective directions, Élodie’s hand stroking yours as she walks away.

✪✪✪✪✪

Half an hour later, you find yourself standing barefoot outside Marcus’ hotel room door, oddly nervous about knocking. Your hair hangs in waves around your shoulders, still holding some of the twisted kinks that the plaits you wore it in had formed over the course of the day, face scrubbed but you are second guessing your choice of wearing pjs to your new boss’ room. Not that they were in any way indecent- just a good old pair of cotton jammies from M&S and you’d kept your bra on underneath, because not even the worst war criminal deserves to be tortured by the sight of you with your bra off. Just as you were about to head back for a hoodie to perhaps offer an ounce more decency, the door swung open and a slightly surprised look adorns Marcus’ face.

“Hey, I was just about to check where you were. Pizza’s getting cold and you should probably have something warm in your belly that isn’t coffee today!”

“Oh, I was just going to swing back to my room for a hoodie,” you awkwardly mutter in the direction of the deliciously soft looking man, wearing grey joggers and a white t-shirt in front of you.

A small pout crosses Marcus’ lips, “Come on, if you’re chilly, the pizza’ll warm you up but if you’re still cold after eating, you can grab one of mine- that is if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” he checks by lowering his eyes and gently lifting your chin.

Deciding not to keep the pizza waiting, you nod and shuffle past Marcus, the plush carpet deliciously soft underfoot, “I haven’t forgotten that we were halfway through a conversation this morning when El and Jacques arrived to pick us up. You want to tell me why you don’t feel like you are where you feel you should be?” you don’t look at Marcus as you ask him, picking the olives off the top of your pizza.

“I thought you said you like olives?” Marcus questions confusedly as he grabs a slice himself.

“Oh I do, but I’ll eat them afterwards as I like to savour them by themselves,” you giggle at your weird pizza eating habits, “Was that a wish to evade the question? Would you prefer to put on a film?”

“Hah, no! You’re full of quirks, y’know? It’s cute,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Cute?” you raise an eyebrow at this affectionate comment, “Eh, I dunno. I don’t think you can get to almost forty without embracing your quirks at some point.”

“I just hoped that by this point I’d be married with 2.4 kids, a dog and a nice house. Y’know, settled- never taking it for granted, obviously but comfortable with a family,” there’s a flicker of pain that passes through Marcus’ eyes as he speaks and it cuts through you like a knife.

“How on Earth are you not in a long term relationship with a lucky person? From what you’ve shown me over the past two days, you’re kind, considerate and thoughtful- although you should never tease a woman about her supposed snoring,” you pull an ugly face at him, sticking your tongue out and wrinkling your nose to diffuse the tension in his forehead, forcing him to laugh.

“Oh, I was married once and had long term relationships but neither worked out, sadly,” Marcus shrugs, focussing intently on his next pizza slice, “Can’t the same thing be said about you? You’re a beautiful, funny and intelligent woman and although you are a menace to yourself and those around you with a coffee cup in your hands, I don’t get why you haven’t been snapped up.”

Grabbing the pizza box and Marcus’ hand- pulling them both towards your room, you say, “Come with me.”

Thrusting the pizza box towards his hands, you put the keycard in the door and the light flickers to green. Guiding Marcus by the food container through the room to the balcony, you swing the French doors open to be greeted by a stiff Alpine air and the twinkling lights of Lyon spreading towards you.

“As you know from today, I was here in Lyon before. My partner and I were seconded here to work alongside Interpol on an art smuggling case- that’s how I knew El, Jacques, Pierre and everyone else from this morning’s meeting. We weren’t just work partners, we’d been hiding a romantic relationship for just over a decade in London as we knew that our supervisors wouldn’t allow us to continue to work together,” you clear your throat and see a flash of concern from Marcus seeing how much your hands were trembling.

He reaches for your hand with the lightest of touches grazing your ring and little fingers but not letting go.

Drawing a deep breath, you continue, “You see the beautiful cathedral up there- Fourviere?” you catch Marcus giving a gentle nod as he looks in the direction of your hand, the one he’s not holding, “Jasper asked me to marry him up there. And I, um… I said no.” Your eyes guiltily shift to the left after owning up to your shoddy track record.

“I mean, I did love him but I couldn’t offer him what he wanted or needed from life or from me. We’d hidden too long in the shadows and the thought of trying to explain everything to our families, to our friends, to our workplace was just too overwhelming. I had a lot more to lose than him.

“As you said earlier, our work is very much an old boys network and as a mixed race woman against a white man- who’d got his position due to a bit of nepotism as his uncle was our London boss- I stood to lose so much more. I have always had to work harder and to be a more impressive candidate to be taken as seriously as any white man in the room.”

“Had we returned to London as a married couple, there would have been so many unspoken questions about when we would think about having babies so there’d never be a chance of going any higher for me. And although seeing El and Jacques today- they have it so balanced. El was telling me that they split her maternity leave equally and that even now their baby is one, they have flexi working times so although they have such a little one and such intense jobs, they can still be there for bedtimes and neither of them be sidelined. But I know that’s not how it would have worked with us. Jas would have worked full time and I would have been a simmering pot of resentment.”

You notice that despite your confession that Marcus still hasn’t stopped holding your hand and regardless of the evening chill, warmth spreads through you at the thought that you haven’t entirely repulsed him with your actions.

“Where is he now? DId he ask for a transfer when you headed back?” Marcus gently questions.

“He took the ultimate transfer. We were working together undercover and he was shot multiple times trying to save some people from being murdered,” with a small shrug, you take your hand back from Marcus despite the comfort it is bringing you and cover your face. As you do so, he pulls you towards him, holding you tightly into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.

With a gentle push back from his broad chest but without leaving his arms completely, you tilt your face up at him, “In fact, other than Jas’ death the bitterest pill was me being transferred out of the department. As you can probably imagine, a lot of shit went down after that night and a lot of the blame from it was laid at my door. Whilst it was all happening, I wasn’t allowed to have any contact with work colleagues and of course, your family can only know so much of what’s going on when you follow our line of work.

“So, I spent eight months in a stupid kind of limbo- being paid full whack whilst sitting at home, mourning a man who I’d been with for a quarter of my life but didn’t want to marry.” Shaking your head slowly, you continue, “That’s why I was a bit of a mess today- I kind of dreaded seeing everyone and how they might blame me for everything that happened with Jas.”

“Shit, I’m sorry sweetheart,” with that affectionate nickname confidently trickling from Marcus’ lips, you look up and smile broadly at him, “I am sorry that you went through all that. I have to be honest, as I am a terrible liar- there is a part of me that is glad that our paths have overlapped- I just wish it could be under happier circumstances.”

“No,” you pat him upon his chest, “You don’t get to our age without some kind of baggage and in our occupation, it’s hard for most people to understand our commitment to our job.”

“Hah, you can say that again- that’s what ended my marriage. That and her new partner,” you scrunch your face in consideration of Marcus’ pain, your thumbs rubbing back and forth, “And the failed engagement is what brought me to London- kept seeing her and the man she left me for around the DC offices.”

“Let’s go toast to those ghosts and our converging paths with what will be now a very warm bottle of white wine and cold pizza,” with eyes widening in amusement you smile at him, your hands still on his chest and his hands on your back, “But indoors as it is fucking freezing out here, no matter how pretty it is.”

“Agreed,” Marcus chuckles deeply, moving his hands to rub some warmth back into your arms.

“Just going to grab a hoodie,” you call over your shoulder as you go back into your bedroom. As you rummage through your bag, you miss the flicker of disappointment on Marcus’s face that he wouldn’t get to smell your perfume on his clothes.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Hey,” that beautifully soft baritone meltingly drifted up from the sofa in Marcus’ room, “Comfy now? I hope you don’t mind but I chose Casablanca instead of Sharknado 4.”

As you cross the floor in socked feet to try and thaw them out from your balcony adventure, you shake your head with a lopsided smile, “Not ok,” but to put Marcus’ raised eyebrow at ease, you add, “It’s my favourite - but you’d better have tissues at the ready as it will make me a snotty mess.”

“Already prepared,” he holds a tissue box aloft, “It does the same to me too.”

Instead of sitting at the other end of the sofa, you grab a glass of wine from the table and slide into Marcus’ side- half sitting up, half leaning against him. He reaches over, pulling your head onto his shoulder, stroking your hair away from your face and there you stay, comfortably curled into his side. Not for the hour and three quarters of the film, but until rays of spring sunshine filter through the blinds the following morning.

Tag list of glory: If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

@astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @tardisfangurl @zukoyonce @absurdthirst @green-socks @pedropascalito @disgruntledspacedad @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[winsmoke]

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤

You and Yuta have both hit a wall in your respective lives. Loneliness seeks comfort.

⊹ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.3k ⊹ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 english student female y/n x Yuta ⊹ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 college au, idol au, strangers to lovers au, angst, smut ⊹ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 drinking, kissing, swearing, unprotected doggy position, unprotected reverse cowgirl position, unprotected missionary position ⊹ 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 disclaimer | masterlist

   “Another unfamiliar place with more unfamiliar people,” Yuta murmured to himself while stuffing his slender fingers into the pockets of his straight jacket.

　He had an inexplicable urge to leave his hotel room to wander around the city. Even though he risked a lot of trouble with his managers for a simple stroll, the walk still wasn’t making him feel any better. He had been to New York City several times but it still felt...empty. 

   The more he traveled around the world with NCT 127, the more he realized how small and insignificant he was - an incredibly stupid mentality to have as an idol. Yuta felt like he was always chasing his next high and lately not much was making the cut.

　Performing, practicing, and simple downtime with his members had initially been so fulfilling. That was when he felt like he had something to work towards. It didn’t feel like he was working at all anymore. He didn’t know if he should be more concerned that it was easy faking stability or that none of his friends could recognize his unease. 

   Perhaps that’s why you caught his eye so easily.

　While Yuta restricted his insecurities within his body, your vulnerability stretched across your trembling figure. You were speed-walking to Barnes & Noble, desperate for a gentle relief to get you through the night.

　It was your last year at New York University’s aggressively cutthroat creative writing program. The thrilling environment of competitive writing had engaged you for three years but now you just felt burnt out. You did it all… gotten published, received distinguished awards, and had met your favorite authors but now you’re not so sure of yourself. And with your confidence went your writing stamina. So you decided, after re-writing the ending of your final non-fiction story three times, to run away to the bookstore and read stories from your childhood.

   It wasn’t in Yuta’s nature to talk to strangers so he curiously traced your steps. He was pleasantly surprised when you led him to a bookstore and even more surprised when you eagerly reached for children’s books. After flipping to the first page of The Rainbow Fish, you looked up at the first person you saw, pointed at the paper, and exclaimed excitedly: “Pictures!”

   Having read countless academic papers and various literature throughout the semester without a single picture, seeing such colorful and nostalgic images were putting you in a child-like frenzy.

　Yuta felt his lips twitch uncontrollably. You wore your emotions so shamelessly and he found it to be both terrifying yet charming. You started laughing at yourself, realizing how ridiculous you must look.

   “Sorry, I must seem like I’m on acid or shrooms… I swear I’m intelligent,” you mumbled while hungrily paging through the children’s book. Yuta blinked in confusion. He was good at English but he wasn’t sure what “acid” or “shrooms” was. 

   “I read that when I was a boy,” Yuta said awkwardly, nodding to the book you held. Your ears perked up at his articulation and you looked more closely at the guy standing next to you. 

   “In what language?” you asked, trying to place his accent. 

   “Japanese.” 

   You sat down on the carpeted floor and patted the space next to you. 

   “Issho ni yomimashou.” Let’s read together.

   “Nihongo o shitte imasu ka?” You know Japanese?

   “Just basic stuff,” you said shrugging. “Can I practice with you? Like I’ll try to translate the sentences from this story and you’ll tell what I said wrong?” 

   “Ano… okay?” Umm... 

   Over the next thirty minutes, Yuta was amazed by how comfortable he had become with you. He hadn’t heard Japanese in months; a strange ache lodged itself in his chest when you spoke it so smoothly. He remembered how anxious he had been when he was learning Korean, but whenever you made a mistake your bit your lip not from embarrassment but frustration. You were so foreign yet familiar. 

   “Wanna come over to my dorm? The store is gonna close soon and I want to keep practicing with you,” you asked with your most captivating smile. You were always forward with people, especially those you like and he had certainly caught your eye.

   “I don’t know your name yet and you’re already inviting me home?” Yuta hid the bubbling feeling in his chest with a satisfied smirk.

   “I’m y/n.” 

   “Yuta.”

   “Okay now that we’re no longer strangers, Yuta, would you like to come over?”

   “Yeah,” Yuta breathed. He didn’t care about the repercussions, it had been so long since he actually wanted to do something. And right now he wanted more time with you. 

   While the two of you walked to your dorm, you pointed out your favorite spots and places when you had done some fuck-shit, slipping in and out of English and Japanese. Yuta watched you in amusement, slightly amazed by your brazen tongue and reckless past. He couldn’t quite understand you… you had acted so carelessly before and yet, you always ended your stories by explaining what you had learned. He wasn’t sure if he would call you balanced or chaotic.

   Upon unlocking the door to your dorm, your eyes shot to your opened laptop and you remembered the paper you needed to complete. This was your last story before the semester ended, and it had to be spectacular. But the ending was kicking your ass. Your shoulders immediately sagged and you staggered over to your fridge.  

   “What’s up?” Yuta asked, noticing your deflating figure.

　You grabbed the giant vodka bottle and some cherry soda, your usual liquor and chaser combo. Collapsing onto your bed, you gulped down several mouthfuls of both substances and offered some to Yuta. He mimicked your actions without hesitation.

   “I just…am tired of my life,” you said softly.

　Yuta watched as your face crumbled into distress. He set the bottles carefully on the floor and approached your bed steadily.

　You couldn’t read his expression. No one really could.

   “I’m sorry,” he confessed in a low tone, “I’m not good at consoling people. Or talking in general.” 

   You searched his face. Quite possibly the most handsome and emotionless being you had ever laid your eyes on. You noticed before that his face only portrayed happiness or nothing. If he wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t anything. You, on the other hand, oozed an array of emotions.

   You crawled to the edge of the bed where Yuta stood. You sat directly in front him with him looking down at you, your noses almost brushing.

   “You don’t need to speak,” you whispered. 

   Yuta’s hands glided to the curve of your hip and held you firmly in place. As soon as you spread your legs to bring his body closer, Yuta’s lips found yours. He tasted like the cherry soda, the smell enveloping your senses.

   Yuta pushed your hips back further onto the bed so he could position himself properly in between your thighs. While you continued to explore his mouth, his hands began to roughly grope your thighs through your tights. The thin material felt unusual but alluring against his hands and eventually his nails started to fray the nylon. 

   “Just take them off already,” you snapped, breaking away from the kiss when you realized what Yuta was doing and that this was your last pair of black tights. 

   “You look good in them,” Yuta hummed against your neck, licking and kissing below your ear until you were twitching with need. 

   As soon as he began lifting the edge of his sweater, you slithered out of your clothes while Yuta did the same. You positioned your legs for missionary position but Yuta nudged your hip to indicate his desire for you to flip over. 

   “Fine,” you grumbled.

　You already knew your thighs would give out in a few minutes but you let your body be maneuvered to his liking. He pulled your hips up so you were on your hands and knees and pushed his cock in your pussy.

   “Ummph,” you moaned in satisfaction.

　Yuta pushed your wobbling knees further apart to compensate for his girth, causing you to fall onto your forearms. 

   You pushed your hips back in time with Yuta’s swift thrusts. Yuta closed his eyes and tensed his muscles, completely surrendering himself to pleasure. The syrupy sounds of his dick slipping in and out of you echoed in your small room. 

   Although your stamina was quickly depleting, Yuta’s unyielding grip on your hips forced you to continue your movements. Impatient with your decelerating speed, he eventually just held your ass in place to maximize his pace, his balls slapping against your ass with every stroke.

   “You gonna make me do all the work?” Yuta breathed in your ear, pulling your torso up so he could grip your boobs properly. You shivered slightly, impossibly more aroused by the feeling of Yuta’s hardened chest against your back.

   “If you don’t plan on cumming while I’m in control don’t ask for me to take over,” you warned, getting your shit together to not stutter. 

   “Can you make me come?” Yuta challenged, purposefully fingering your clit while continuing to hit you from the back. You rolled your eyes.

   “Please. I could make you cum in three minutes tops. You won’t be getting any pretty little moans out of me.” 

   Yuta groaned and shoved you away. Propping himself on your pillows, he gestured towards his erect dick, still moist from your juices. 

   “Sit. Impress me,” Yuta instructed. 

   Eye contact was not the move for tonight. His look infiltrated you further than his dick could, you felt psychologically naked under it. 

   So you sat facing away from him, with your legs folded on either side of his legs. You nimbly gyrated down on his cock, clapping your cheeks together whenever your thighs needed respite. Yuta reached out to grope your quivering ass but you would stop completely to slap his hands away. 

   “Fuck,” Yuta moaned, unconsciously rolling his hips up to try to cram himself impossibly deeper. You were not gonna lie, this boy’s dick was stretching you and you had been aching from the beginning but that didn’t matter. You both needed a release and sore thighs weren’t going to stop you.

   “Let me be on top,” Yuta growled after you slapped his hands away again.

   “Dignity dented? It’s only been a minute,” you huffed out, just barely closing your mouth in time before a moan could escape.

   “Kinda hard to pull out if you’re on top of me,” Yuta said in a pleading tone. You could tell he was close. 

   “I’m on birth control,” you panted.

　Your abdomen was completely tightened, the coil in your stomach beginning to unravel. You blinked rapidly to bat the sweat from your eyes, you were starting to get dizzy from the intense fucking.

   “I want to look at you when I come,” Yuta begged.

　He surprised himself with his honesty. This whole time, you two had been avoiding each other’s eyes but now that the climax was drawing near, and your encounter was coming to a close, he wanted to see your face. You slowed down your hips, contemplating whether you should just let him cum down your throat or turn around. 

   Screw it. You thought and maneuvered your body so you were straddling him properly. You looked down at him, slightly transfixed by his impressive body. It was the first time you two looked at each other naked. 

   Your hair had fallen out of the ponytail long ago, it circled your flushed face in a way that made you look more captivating to Yuta. He held back the urge to cup your cheeks. 

   You lowered your body onto his and moved your hips sensuously around Yuta’s dick. You didn’t feel like fucking anymore, you just wanted tender sex to try to elongate this as much as possible. You didn’t want to admit this was a one-night stand and soon he would be gone. 

   Yuta seemed to understand your thoughts and caressed your body as if you were worth something to him. Even though you both had slowed dramatically, your bodies were ready for relief.

   “What if I want to hear your pretty moans,” Yuta whispered, effortlessly flipping you below him. His brown eyes were a pool you were drowning in. You weakly smiled and gave in to his request, allowing your low moans to spill from your lips, but not before you closed your eyes. In return, he whined into your collarbone, licking everything he touched. 

   His simple grinding had been enough for you both to reach your limits. Before coming, Yuta couldn’t resist one last kiss, this one much rawer than the first. But instead of relief he just felt lonely all over again. Now that it was over, now what? 

   “I guess you have to go now,” you said, heartache written all over your face. How was it possible that you got so attached to this guy you had just met an hour ago? 

   Yuta fished his phone out of his jeans pocket and groaned looking at all the missed calls and texts. They were flying out early in the morning for their next tour stop and the managers and members were flipping their shit trying to contact him. But when he looked back at you with an expression that mirrored his feelings, he knew he couldn’t leave without being honest for once.

   “I haven’t been this happy in a long time,” Yuta revealed hesitantly. “I-I want – no – need to see you again.” 

    You licked your lips, deliberating his words. He seemed genuine. You traced his flushed lips with your pointer finger, trying to memorize the sensation. 

   “I’m an open book,” you smiled widely. “Read me whenever you want.”

[futurewriter2000]

Love Hurts - pt. 6

A/N: I wrote the first version of this like days ago but I hated it so much that I felt like I needed to re-write it and I did so here yall go. Hope you like it. 

XX

Fred woke up with a massive headache. He tried to pull his sleep further on but the headache was too strong to fall back asleep. He groaned into the pillow and kept his head buried in it, weirdly finding something unfamiliar going up his nostrils. It wasn’t the usual smell of the fabric softener his pillow case has but it was different and didn’t take a lot of time and contemplating to figure out to who it belong to. 

You. 

Memories rushed into his head without any warning. He cringed as he remembered his pathetic-self, throwing up over the bathroom seat and feeling you rubbing his back. 

It was all so foggy to him. He couldn’t remember more than you and him hugging. For him begging you to wait until he fell asleep. 

“You bloody git.” he mumbled into the pillow case before dragging himself to the bathroom and taking a showed. 

---

Oddly enough, he did make to breakfast in last minutes and odder than that, you were seated next to Angelina and his friends. Your hair was a bit messy from last night’s hairstyle and some traces of makeup were still there. Nevertheless, you were extremely happy and your eyes- your gorgeous eyes were sparkling like never before when they locked with his. 

“Moooorning.” George said as he saw his brother approaching, grinning at him. 

“Morning.” Fred rubbed his eyes and sat down, reaching for his breakfast. 

“You slept well? Because I surely did not, hearing you pull in massive snores like a piglet on crack.” his eyes narrowed but everybody else laughed.

Fred took a bite in his toast, glanced at you with a smile, then turned to George. “I was itty bitty tired.”

“You left early.” Angelina interrupted and everybody looked at her. “And George said you were already fast asleep when he came back.”

“And when did George come back?” you leaned forward, looking at George. 

“When did you?” he narrowed your eyes back at you. 

‘--- Fred fell asleep and you were tiptoeing back to your dorm. The image of him still lingering in your mind, you had a lovely smile plastered on your lips but when you came down from the boys dormitories, George came down from the girls dormitories. 

The two of you stood like stones, staring at each other as both of you were caught. 

It was three in the morning. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell.” he said and you smiled.

“Deal.” the two of you shook hands and walked by as nobody ever saw anything. ---’ 

“Not telling.” you grinned cheekily and George did the same, both mirroring each others body language; crossing your arms over your chest and looking away. 

“How about you, (y/n)?” Angelina nudged you a bit and smiled. 

“What about me?” 

“I mean- I saw what happened between you and your fit date. He ran after you and never came back. I assumed he apologised and made it work?” she grinned with a wink but you only gave a quick glance to Fred’s confused expression and laughed.

“He only apologised to me this morning, before I came over here.” you smiled. “I forgave him, of course. I do know him since I was a kid, baby even.” 

“Oh, so you didn’t spend the night with him?” her face was a bit flushed and you couldn’t analyze fast enough to figure out why.

“No.” was all you replied with before Fred cut the silence and asked.

“Why would he apologise?” he tried to play it cool but his eyes were soley focused on you. 

“Nothing big really. He got a bit too grabby and I just slapped him and stormed off.” 

“Grabby?” Fred stopped chewing, swallowing hard and clenching his jaw. 

“I thought you fancied him?” Angelina said more sternly, angrily too. 

“I’ve known him since we were five. He was my cousin’s best friend. We used to drag each other through the mud for my cousin’s attention.” you laughed. “Cute fella but I just- no.” you shook your head, blushing.

“But aren’t you Muggleborn?” George asked.

“Yeah, ironic that we both are.” you looked over your shoulder to find him laughing with his friends. “He’s a good guy.” 

“But he’s... grabby.” Fred’s eyes were staring into yours with jealous flames and he couldn’t help himself but to feel anger bubble in his stomach. 

“Yeah...” you trailed off and grabbed your books. “I- uh- I need to get these books to the library before it closes. It’s Sunday after all.” you smiled at everybody and waved them a goodbye.

“But it closes in an hour.” Fred said all of a sudden, taking his glare away from your date on the other side and to you. 

“I know, Freddie. That’s why I’m going now.” you smiled and wandered off. 

Freddie. You said Freddie. Not Fredrick, not Fred and for Merlin’s sake not George or Ron but Freddie. 

And that was all it was needed for him to get his giddy smile back. 

---

“So you’re not cross with me anymore, are you?” he poked his head through the other side of the shelf and grinned. 

“What makes you think that?” you smiled back, pushing his head on the other side and walking down the aisle. 

“You called me Freddie.” he said as he walked along side you, until the two of you reached the end and he was backing you against the bookshelves. “You call me Fredrick, when you are pissed at me, George when you want to push my buttons and piss me off and Ron when you’re feeling pretty vindictive.” he kept smiling, looking down on you as you rolled your eyes. “ But you only call me Freddie when you are utterly, ubelievably in love with me.” he spoke low, in a seductive manner. 

“Then why ask the question when you already know the answer.” you replied, narrowing your eyes. “And I think that is an exaggeration. Utterly, unbelievably in love with you?” you scoffed, pushing him away and walking to Madam Pince. “Like you said, Fred-”

“Freddie.” he corrected you, lifting up his finger and keeping his cocky grin on. 

“- I am not a mean person.” you laughed, looking at him before turning to Madam Pince and giving her the books to check out. “And holding on to anger is pointless.” 

“But I never apologised.” Fred’s grin fell and his eyes saddened. 

You were already at the door when you heard his voice and turned around. “What?”

“For... you know... saying what I said.”he lowered his head in shame but you only smiled.

“Oh, you apologised alright.” you continued smiling at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind you. 

“When?” he furrowed his eyebrows in perplexion but kept looking at your hands holding each other. 

“Last night.” you pulled him to the bench and plopped down. 

He followed. “Well, darling, last night is a bit foggy to me if you must know.”

“Oh, I believe so.” your eyes sparkled. “You asked me to be with you until you fell asleep-”

“Oh Merlin-” he sunk in his seat and blushed but you only giggled and nudged his shoulder a bit. 

“It’s okay for a guy to be vulnerable, Freddie.” you laughed again and just that laugh unlocked a little memory in his head; you were laying in front of him with your eyes watching his and your hand on his cheek, caressing it gently. You wore his sweater over your dress and you weren’t covered like he was. He mumbled something and you let out the same laugh as you did right now. 

‘--- The glitter from your eyeshadow was all over your cheeks and your mascara was a bit smudged from rubbing your eyes when you were tired. 

“You called me Freddie.” he said, smiling and finding your smile grow as well. “I missed that.” 

“You missed me calling your name?” you laughed, tucking your hands under your pillow. 

“It’s special when you say it.” he mumbled sleepily. 

“I’ll pin that down.” you spoke softly as he closed his eyes and pulled in a light snore. 

“I’m really sorry.” he said just before he opened his eyes again and put his hand on your cheek, tucking behind one of the curls that fell from your bun. “For calling you a word I promised myself I would never use... and for calling you barmy in the head.” 

You laughed and put your hand on top of his, rubbing your thumb across the back of his. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?” he asked, staring into your eyes. “Will you forgive me?” 

“Of course, I forgive you Freddie.” you said and he smiled again at that word. 

“I missed that.” he repeated himself and you laughed again.

“Me calling you Freddie? You said.”

“It’s special when you say it.” he repeated again and closed his eyes, trying to keep them open for you. 

His hand fell from your cheek as he dozed off and slowly you reached for his cheek, rubbing it gently. “Goodnight, Freddie.” you slowly got up and made your way to the door. “Sleep well.” ---’

Fred watched you tell the story as if you hadn’t felt any emotions in it but he felt you feeling them just as much as he did. And you may have finished quickly but he knew what happened. He remembered. 

His heart was fluttering and he knew what that meant. It meant he was the one utterly, unbelievable in love with you. 

He fell in love the day of the second practice, not the first but the second, when the two of you danced together. His hands would lock with yours, his feet move alongside your tip toes because he was extremely taller than you... and in that moment, exactly that moment when he spun you around, your hair clip fell down your hair and got stuck on the edges, letting those front hair fall in front of your face. He twirled you back to him and you were panting with your cheeks red and your eyes scared... and bright. They were so bright and looking up at his like a full moon on a cloudy night. He had you in his hands, in his hold and it was all so magical until the two of you parted ways and he knew he didn’t want to.

That day. That moment. He knew but he did not want to admit it.

“Thank you for staying.” he put his hand on top of yours and you turned your eyes to him, smiling.

“Of course.” you nodded with a smile, then pulled your hand away and stood up. “It’s what friends are for.” you continued and his smile immediately fell. 

“A what?”

“Friends?” you smiled with a quirk of your eyebrow. “I’m not that dense, Freddie. I know you have the hots for Angelina and I say go for it. I’ll survive. I’m a big girl.”

But Fred felt as if his brain was scrambled by that one word. He wanted to speak but his mouth were sown shut. 

“See you tomorrow in class.” you put your hand on his cheek and left- left him behind, confused and dazed, both from your words and your touch. 

“Friends?” he leaned forward, feeling frustration kick in. “Bloody friends-?!” he stood up and watch you turn around the corner and disappear. He put his hands on the back of his head and ran them through his hair. “I’ll show you friends.”

[lisinfleur]

Santa’s Roots

The request:

Author’s Notes | Some historians claim that Santa Claus’ figure was inspired by Odin. What if it was true? For a certain Modern Viking, it is! Inspired by Harbard’s interaction with young Ivar in the series. I hope you’ll like it! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Modern AU, made for Patron’s Holiday Event Words | 1092 ⁑ Warnings: Religious re-readings, unconfirmed comparisons, and sources.

"Why do we have to make this stupid trip?"

Of course, he was annoyed. Even more, because he was planning a trip with Y/N to spend the Christian Christmas in a tropical country enjoying the heat; and now he was forced to drag his limp pained leg through the snow of the Santa Claus Village in Rovaniemi.

Yeah. Lapland.

In the fucking FREEZING FINLAND!

"It's Yule and Christmas and no matter how you look at it, Ivar, it's a family holiday and we'll spend it together."

He loved his beautiful mother, but sometimes that need she had for them to be all together all the time was suffocating. After growing older, he was starting to understand his father's constant trips and to wish Aslaug would do something like fulfilling Sigurd's emptiness and his lack of motherly attention.

But this time, not even Sigurd had escaped that torture. And for the first time, they were both grumpy and moody at the same time.

At least, Y/N had come with him. Sigurd's girl was waiting for him with her family at the beach they had planned to go to together and that trip had forced him to delay. Ubbe as well was grumpy: dating Björn's ex-wife, he saw his hopes to send Torvi's children with Björn that year going down the drain. After all, what kid would want to exchange Santa Claus' village for a trip to the boring Mediterranean with daddy's brand-new chick?

Hvitserk was the only one having fun along with Y/N and the children - the bastard was finding every source of food, candies, and delights through their ways, putting so many smiles on Y/N's face that Ivar was asking all the gods to get his brother fat at the end of that cursed trip. Or at least some good, long and intense diarrhea, so he would have something to laugh at in the middle of all that red, black, gold, and white mess.

"Sorry!" A gods damn dwarf?

Gnome?

Grinch... No. Elf! A gods damn elf stumbled on his crutch, almost taking Ivar's balance, forcing him to stop his already slow steps to straighten the damn titanium braces under the trousers with a loud grunt of anger.

Because of course, his day wasn't doomed enough. No. The pain of that cold shitty place wasn't enough. Nor the elves everywhere, nor the repetitive music, nor the children's noises, fake gift boxes, bells... Not even the irritant bells weren't enough! Someone had to fucking misplace his braces to get him left behind by his whole family...

Kinda his fault: Ivar had walked slower than them all the whole time, trying to get himself distant and leave clear he wasn't happy. Even Y/N had started walking with Hvitserk since his mood was so terrible that not even her was able to hold it this time. He couldn't blame them for avoiding his presence enough not to notice he had to stop...

But where were they after all?

They wouldn't just disappear like that in a matter of minutes.

Ivar had just lowered himself for a moment to straighten the braces... How come they had managed to disappear in the middle of that fucking colored place?

For a moment, Ivar's heart filled with a cold sensation that spread all over this spine. He searched his pockets. Of course, his cellphone hadn't a single bar of signal in that place. His blues ran around searching for his brothers, the noisy children, his mom, Y/N.

And then it was when he realized...

There was no one to be seen.

The noisy children had gone. The elves were gone... Everything was, all of a sudden, silent, except for those bells.

With his crutch, Ivar walked around some steps, trying not to get lost in whatever the fuck was happening around him. But with a few steps forward, as if everything wasn't strange enough, a thick fog started to move around his legs, covering the place, flying ghostly through the gift boxes and colored trees.

Ivar felt the urge to get the heck out of that place. With some effort, he started walking at a quicker pace not observing when the decorations around him started changing from the usual plastic balls and ribbons to colored flowers, painted pine cones, straw animals... His eyes betrayed him, but his ears weren't failing: the bells were becoming higher. And higher...

"I don't know what kind of stupid prank is this! But I don't like it! I didn't pay for this package! I want this to stop right now!" he yelled.

Just to almost lose his balance once again when a horse exhaled behind his back, forcing him to turn around in a quick movement that cost him a grunt of pain, bending Ivar's body over itself when his hand touched the knee of his right leg. The braces had made a loud sound indicating it was a forced movement and now his knee was horribly aching once again.

However, the pain was something usual for him. Unusual was to see Santa Claus not dressed in the traditional red clothes... Unusual was to watch the old man coming down from a horse... Wait. How many legs did that fucking horse have?

And how the fuck did he have a horse? Shouldn't it be reindeers?

And a sled?

"What in..." Ivar started, swallowing dry and lifting his face to see the man in front of him was smiling.

A visible and open smile in the middle of the big and voluminous white beard covering his jaw and cascading down to his belly.

"Hello, Ivar," the man said with a surprisingly cozy voice, causing Ivar's face to twist in a frown of pure surprise, full of wrinkles on his forehead that earned one of the usual laughs from the white-bearded man.

"What the heck?" Ivar said, straightening himself even with pain on his leg. "Who told you my name? And why the fuck are we alone in this place?"

The man continued calm and smiley despite Ivar's clear annoyance.

"I know many names, boy. And I know you, since you were, in fact, a boy," the man said, looking down to Ivar's legs. "They still ache a lot, I can see."

Ivar's frown gained two more wrinkles on his forehead.

"What? Where do you know me? Who are you, man?" he asked, fully annoyed by what he was sure was a ridiculous prank his mother had paid for him to fall on, in the hope he would, somehow, like that trip into the middle of the freezing nowhere.

But the man just laughed once again, touching Ivar with a gentle pat that soon became a heavy hand weighing on Ivar's shoulder, forcing his whole attention to detail he wasn't able to notice before but now was clear like crystal in front of his eyes.

That man... That strange Santa Claus...

He clearly didn't have one of his eyes.

Ivar's blues were somehow attracted into the emptiness of that missing eye. And he swore he could hear the bells stopping, and crows cawing. The fog became stronger, but Ivar couldn't stop looking at that empty hole on that man's face until something formed into the dark.

Something that made Ivar's blues large when the voice of that man sounded once again, rumbling into Ivar's chest like a clap of thunder.

"I know everyone that was and everyone that will be. I'm the one who was and remains. And after you're gone, I'll still be here, until the wolf comes to swallow me whole. But before you go, I can still grant you a gift, son. Let us say you were good this year," the old man joked.

His words filling Ivar's ears while his eyes were locked at the image into that man's empty eye-hole.

"Yggdrasil..." Ivar mumbled.

And his eyes blinked, seeing the whole man once again in front of him, smiling.

"Odin?" he asked.

Receiving nothing but a new pat on his shoulder and once again, the traditional giggle that came along the whole noisy environment around, all at once invading Ivar's ears like a wave of noise and mess once again.

"Ho ho ho... Merry Christmas!"

Standing in front of him was nothing but an actor, fully dressed like the old Santa. Nothing different from the usual along with the fake gift boxes and all the rest Ivar could see when he turned his head, confused, searching for that whole illusion he was thrown into one second ago.

Was that a delirium? Was that somehow real?

"What's wrong, Ivar?" Y/N's voice woke him up and called his attention causing Ivar to once again turn himself too quick to look at her.

Another clang from his braces. Ivar waited for the wave of pain...

But it never came.

"Are your legs ok? Are you in pain, love?" she asked, fully worried.

But Ivar looked shocked down to his legs, feeling nothing. Absolutely no pain. Like one of his best-bones' days...

The days he used to say were gifts from the gods into his life.

"I... I... I think I... I'm fine I just... For a moment..." Ivar gasped with the words.

His eyes were still searching around for that image so vivid of Odin he had seen. He was sure he had seen! It was real!

And he took his pain away for a day...

"You see? The cold is starting to freeze Ivar's brain! Can we go home or at least somewhere warm now?" Sigurd complained.

The kids coming closer to Ubbe with their hands full of candy canes from Hvitserk's bag.

Everyone was so close... They didn't have disappeared.

But Ivar was sure he was the only one who saw that man.

"Are you ok, Ivar?" Y/N asked again and Ivar finally focused his eyes on her.

"I am. I'm just... I think I just need some warm chocolate and we can stay a little longer... For the kids, I mean."

"What?" Sigurd complained immediately. "See? Frozen brains!" he said, pointing Ivar's head.

But Ivar just approached Y/N's, speaking low, almost like a secret.

"Do you believe this thing about... Santa and Odin... Being the same person and stuff?" he asked, causing Y/N to smile.

"Oh, this is why you're so bothered, isn't it? Babe, don't be like this, uh? Some historians say that our Santa is somehow inspired by Odin with his eight-legged horse, granting gifts to his followers and knowing who was acting bad or good along his way. If it makes you feel more comfortable then think about this place as Odin's village!" she joked.

Getting a small curve from Ivar's lips.

"Come, let's get you that hot chocolate, uh?" she said, enlacing his arm with her own and starting to walk at his pace towards the coffee shop Hvitserk was already entering for what? The third time?

Ivar's eyes looked back at that man dressed as Santa Claus, complimenting everyone. His steps showing him his legs weren't aching at all anymore. Whoever it was, Santa Claus, Odin... It had really granted him a gift for that day.

The Santa turned looking at him once again.

And Ivar could swear that one-eyed man winked at him before it was nothing but the actor once again.

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" the man yelled.

Santa Claus' Village... Odin's place... It wasn't that bad to make that trip after all.

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[dreamersleeps]

Red Wings of Temperance

A Possible Influence Behind the Color of Hawks’ Wings

A deck of tarot cards is made up of 78 cards, and the first twenty two are known as the Major Arcana. They were created in the 14th or 15th century but were not used for divination purposes until the 18th century. Tarot card readings are not meant to predict the future but to offer spiritual guidance. 

The image above (from Oracloo) depicts the 14th Major Arcana card in the tarot deck which is known as: XIV Temperance. 

Like me, I’m sure that your mind jumped to a certain pro hero as soon as you saw the figure’s red wings. 

What might Temperance have to do with Hawks? Let’s first look at a couple definitions of the word first. According to Merriam-Webster: 

Temperance

1. moderation in action, thought, or feeling

2. habitual moderation in the indulgence of the appetites or passions 

If Temperance is drawn, it means: 

Balance, patience, and moderation in life. 

To think before we act. To look at both sides of an issue, to walk in another’s shoes or their path before we pass judgement. To be compassionate, considerate and fair in our dealings with others (bluestartarot). 

That you have a clear, long-term vision of what you want to achieve. You are not rushing things along; instead, you are taking your time to ensuer that you do the best job you can. You know you need a moderate, guided appraoch to reach your goals (biddytarot). 

Other Red-Winged Figures 

Before we begin I’m going to point out that there are a couple other Red-Winged figures amongst the Major Arcana. 

I’m not aware if nudity in art is allowed on Tumblr so just to be safe, I cut the bottom half of both these cards because they depict nude individuals. 

The tarot card on the right is VI The Lovers and XX Judgement. Out of the two, I think you could perhaps make some connections with Judgement and Hawks but I think that Temperance works the best. 

Symbols of the 14th Arcana

There are quite a few symbols on XIV Temperance, but I’m going to focus on a select few. Interpretations may differ based on the source but I tried to stick with those that were repeated throughout the different websites I read through.

The most important part of this card is the act of pouring water from one cup to another, signifying a balance of duality and a mixture of two separate objects. This is where the card gets its name, the process is called “tempering” which is a slow process to eventually find a perfect middle ground (wemystic).

Other dualities that is represented on this card can be: male/female, spiritual/physical, emotion/logic, conscious/subconscious and subconscious/superconscious (we mystic).

Temperance revolves around supreme balance. One foot is on land which represents the Earthly, material world and the other is in water, which represents the emotional, subconscious world. 

The winding path leading to the mountains represents the journey through life with its twists and turns. The sun, appearing as a glowing light is a symbol of staying true to one’s life purpose and meaning (biddytarot). 

Fire/Red wings: Physical passion, anger. Muscles and strength necessary to maintain composure and reach a higher being state. 

Blue water: Emotions, peace, calm. Groundness and refreshment. 

White gown: Pure thought. 

Yellow Iris: Communication, thoughts, learning, feminine/masculine. 

Temperance’s wings are either referred to as “fire wings” or “red wings.”  If we want to make connections to we can argue that his Fierce Wings Quirk is the source of his physical strength, even though he displays some insecurity about his back not being “reassuring” enough for others to depend on. 

Other than his red wings, I don’t think I’m confident enough to draw a clear connection between his appearance and the other prominent colors that appear on Temperance. Hawks’ visor was blue before the anime chose yellow, and he does have the yellow color palette going on. 

However, the meanings of the colors do line up with Hawks’ character. He is a character who is always trying to be calm and collected no matter the situation. Hawks is a character who is constantly seeking, taking in, gathering, and analyzing information. According to the fandom website, Hawks’ surname translates as: “hawk” (taka 鷹) + “see, visible, idea” (mi 見 )

While his first name translates as: “disclose, open, say” (kei  啓) + “enlightenment, understanding” (go  悟).

Sun: Also appearing as the angel’s third eye, it represents the merging of personal aims with the universe’s plans for the individual. 

So similar to many others, I like to see Endeavor as the sun to Hawks’ Icarus (side note: I also like to see Dabi as Apollo in the Icarus theme). 

The bit about the eye is interesting as well: I believe that eyes play an important role in the story telling with Hawks, Endeavor and other characters. There are interesting similarities between the two characters and the Egyptian Gods Ra and Horus (@/bokunowtv also pointed out some interesting details as well).

Recently, it also seems like Hawks’ storyline will be intertwining with Endeavor’s. Hawks has expressed verbally in Chapter 299: “Starting with my origin, so to speak... Endeavor’s in trouble.” While they did team up professionally as heroes in the past, it seems that Hawks intentions this time will be personal. We have yet to see what he is planning to do and how things might pan out, however this path will probably lead him to Touya. 

Triangle: Representative of the fire element and holy trinity. 

Although Hawks does not wear a triangle or square on his chest like the angel, it is still interesting to note that he wears the Hero Public Safety Commission’s diamond symbol in about the same place. Again, there is the mention of fire again. 

The Angel

Because Temperance has to do with balance and duality, the angel on the card is both masculine and feminine.

Whether they are just an unnamed angel or a Biblical angel depends on the source you are looking at. However when it comes to identifying them, while one states that it is the Archangel Gabriel, the sources I looked at overwhelmingly pointed towards the Archangel Michael.

This is very, very interesting considering that the Archangel Michael is the angel who is in all the paintings that people were comparing the cover of Volume 27 with, specifically the painting above: “The Fall of the Rebel Angels” by Luca Giordano.

My analysis first post on Tumblr had to do with pointing out similarities between the Archangel Michael and Hawks, and what that could mean. And my most recent post revisits the possible angel narrative which may be present in Hawks’ story, and how he is referred to as a “fallen angel.”

It’s exciting to see the Archangel Michael pop up again. Michael was also God’s angel of destruction and on XIV Temperance we see him tempering or blending his passionate anger with consicious thought to blend his fiery nature with his super-consciousness with calm (blustartarot). 

Temperance Reversed 

When Tarot cards are reversed, their definitions are flipped over. 

When XIV Temperance meets XV The Devil we see imbalance, disharmony, indifference and lack of empathy. When we preactice excess in our lives without moderation and balance whether it be food, alcohol, drugs, and relationships, we lose ourselves in addiction and bondage (bluestartarot). 

May call for a period of self-evaluation in which you can re-examine your life priorities. Self-healing: by creating more balance and moderation in your life (biddytarot). 

We’ve seen Hawks indulge in something or trip up a couple of times. In Chapter 186, Hawks asks if he can have Endeavor’s leftover food and Endeavor calls him a glutton. Additionally, @/scarletrain1724 has done some analysis on how Hawks is a character who is often seen around or consuming food. 

And in Chapter 265, Hawks takes Jin’s life. As Dabi states below, “sentiments” tripped him up. Hawks displays a lack of empathy here. He believes that he feels sorry for Jin and wants to help him, but Hawks is actually unable to understand him properly. I would also identify this action as one of Hawks’ narrative Icarus falls. 

The Moral of Icarus’ Fall  

This all ties in nicely as we see Hawks’ character following an Icarus narrative. There are a handful of “morals” that we the reader are supposed to gain from the Fall of Icarus but I’ll pull an excerpt from the part I’d like to focus on. 

Before taking flight, Daedalus warned his son: 

“Take care to fly halfway between the sun and the sea. If you fly too high, the sun’s heat will melt the wax that bids your wings. If you fly too low, the sea’s mist will dampen the feathers that give you life. Instead, aim for the middle course and avoid extremes.” (The Fall of Icarus - adapted from Metamorphoses by Ovid)

As we all know, Icarus does not heed his father’s warning, whether it be cause he purposely ignored him or forgot and flies up towards the sun. The sun’s heat melts the wax and loosens the feathers on his manmade wings, and he plummets in to the ocean below, drowning. 

Avoid extremes, fly in the middle and seek temperance.

The card that comes before Temperance is XIII Death.

In death we go through transition, a rebirth, changes and with these we come to XIV Temperance for the need to take the time to pause and think. To integrate and blend what we have learned on our journey (bluestartarot). 

So the question to ask is, has Hawks learned anything from his actions or will his story end with him drowning in the ocean? 

To those who were able to make it through this post, thank you! I know that it was really long but I didn’t want to divide it into more than one part. I really appreciate your time and attention! :)

[howtosingit]

Fic: the crash and the fall and you there through it all

Carlos faces the loss of Iris Blake for the second time in three years.

*

A missing moment from 1x07. 

2.3K | Also on AO3

- - - - - -

He’s able to keep it together while he drops Michelle off at her mom’s house, jumping out of his car to give her a tight hug. She clings to him, her sobs rattling through his ribcage, before she pulls away, quickly masking her pain for her mother. He waits until she’s inside the house before he turns away, blinking rapidly to fight the sting he feels at the corners of his eyes.

He’s able to keep it together on the drive home, too, pulling into his driveway and switching off the ignition. His mind races with the image of the blue pickup truck being pulled from the ravine, along with the memory of the last time he saw Iris alive three years ago, and his heart rate speeds up, the pounding in his ears reaching a crescendo. Before he can let it overwhelm him, he pushes open the door and races into his apartment.

But once he’s inside, he doesn’t know what to do. He looks around, taking in the stillness of his living room and kitchen, the low hum of the air purifier in the corner. It’s completely at odds with the wild, erratic energy coursing through his veins, causing him to tremble in his entryway. He knows he can’t stay here, that he’s moments away from becoming something akin to a bull in a china shop; he needs an outlet, somewhere to put all of this excess internal commotion, and nothing in his apartment presents itself as the answer. So, he’s got to get out.

He all but runs to his bedroom, stripping off his jeans in favor of his running clothes. He sits down only long enough to slip on his shoes before he’s up again, grabbing his phone, keys, and AirPods and heading for the door.

He pulls it open, barely breaking his rhythm, and runs headfirst into the man standing on his front step, his hand raised to knock. Carlos collides with him, sending them both stumbling a few steps. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he cries, reaching out to grab TK’s gray hoodie right before the other man falls into the bush next to his front walk. 

“That was a close one,” TK says, a grin on his face as he rebalances. Carlos watches as that smile slips away when TK turns to look at him, replaced by an expression of concern. “Carlos, are you okay?”

The words run through Carlos’s mind, his brain somehow unable to process them fully. Is he okay? He’s been fine for three years, he’s pretty sure, but maybe that was just a facade. Maybe he’s just been faking his way towards fine all of this time. Finding the truck, the one that they’re pretty certain Iris was in the night she died, it’s like facing her disappearance all over again. He thought he was ready, that he could handle this, but maybe he was wrong.

Then, there’s another part of him that doesn’t really know why this is hitting him so hard. They haven’t even started the full investigation of the truck yet, they don’t even really know that they’ve found the answers that Michelle has been searching for this whole time. Carlos understands the process, lives by the process - in general, by process itself. He knows how this works, so he doesn’t understand why his brain and his heart are intent on skipping all of the steps. They’re still at the beginning, there’s a lot that they don’t know, so why is he acting like they’re at the end? 

It’s not what he does, this isn’t who he is, and he doesn’t know how to make that make sense to himself, let alone try to explain it to someone else.

Someone else like TK, who is standing in front of him wearing a terrified expression and… oh, he’s calling his name.

“Carlos!”

He snaps out of his mental traffic jam, his eyes darting everywhere. He can feel his chest rising and falling, can still hear his heart pounding in his ears, but he tries to ignore it, to focus on the man in front of him instead.

“Did we have plans?” he asks, his voice thin. He honestly can’t remember, and that’s not at all like him either; he never forgets his plans, especially ones with TK.

“Um, not exactly,” TK says, the words coming slowly as he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. “But, I remembered you saying you had the night off, so I thought I might stop by and see if you wanted to-”

“Do you want to go for a run?” Carlos cuts him off. He knows it’s rude, and typically he would never do something like that. He can practically hear his mother scolding him from San Antonio, but he pushes that guilt away. The loose canon of energy that has been coursing through for the past ten minutes is starting to build again, and he needs to do something about it. Now.

TK’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes roaming over Carlos, obviously trying to figure out what exactly is going on. He’s sure he looks a mess, if not a little terrifying. He tries not to look like this ever, too intent on appearing professional and put-together at all times. He knows he’s definitely never looked like this in front of TK.

“Yeah, sure,” TK finally says, gazing into his eyes. 

Carlos nods, quickly turning to lock his front door before moving past TK. “I move pretty fast, so try to keep up,” he tries to joke, but his voice doesn’t sound right for it to really land. TK seems to understand his intention anyway, if his smile is any indication.

“Show me what you’ve got, officer,” TK says, falling into step next to him.

They race through Carlos’s neighborhood, side-by-side, and then into the park at the end of his street. He doesn’t bother with his AirPods, content to listen to the sounds of wildlife all around him and TK’s steady breathing right next to him. 

They run for what seems like forever, Carlos pushing himself harder as his mind attacks him with memories of happier days spent with his college best friend before she disappeared out of his life in the blink of an eye. They hadn’t been as close then, with him joining the academy and her… doing something else. Whenever there was time for them to hang out and catch up, she would cancel on him, without explanation, and he eventually learned not to push for her attention.

He’s always hated being the one doing the chasing.

There’s anger now, too, mixed with his grief, and he allows the strain of his muscles to push forward and overcome those feelings. His eyes burn, and he knows he’s crying now, after having kept his tears at bay for so long, but he lets them come, lets them mix with his sweat and disappear as if they never really happened at all.

The entire time, TK runs at his side.

They re-enter his neighborhood, finishing a full loop around the area, and as they come up to his front yard, he pulls back a bit, reaching down for his keys. TK lets out a huff next to him, a sound of pure relief, and Carlos can’t help but smile at the sound. 

“Holy fuck, that was brutal, man,” the firefighter says, gasping for breath. Carlos turns at the door, key in the lock, to find him hunched over with his hands on his hips. 

“C’mon, I have water,” he says, ignoring the garbled tone of his voice. 

They step inside, Carlos moving towards the fridge to grab two water bottles. He hands one off to TK, who takes it with a weak “thank you” before unscrewing the cap and lifting it to his lips. They drink for a moment, the same silence from the run taking over the space. 

They stand close, and Carlos has no idea what to say. TK puts down his water and turns to look at him, his face flushed and his eyes bright.

“You were crying,” TK says knowingly, without preamble. Carlos’s breath hitches in his chest, swallowing heavily as the other man takes a step closer to stand right in front of him. Without a word, TK brings his hands up to cup Carlos’s face, his thumbs moving to brush away the sweat and tears from his cheeks. “Talk to me, Carlos. I’m right here.”

He hears the sincerity in TK’s voice, recalls similar words coming out of his own mouth only a few weeks ago, when the tables were turned and TK was feeling lost. He opens his mouth, trying to say something, anything.

“I…” he starts, trailing off with a huff when his voice cracks on the single syllable. He feels raw again, like all of his thoughts and emotions are just beneath the surface, wanting to push through. He thought the run would help, but it didn’t. He thought pushing himself past his comfort level would leave him empty, but it didn’t. He doesn’t know what to do now.

TK’s grip tightens on his face, almost as if he can tell that Carlos is thinking about running away again. Their eyes lock, and Carlos lets out a breath for the first time as he stares into those bright, lovely, wonderful green irises; the ones that haunt his dreams and make him feel bigger than himself. The ones that ground him.

Oh.

There’s a shift at that thought, the notion that TK grounds him, and he knows without even thinking about it that it’s true. 

All he needs is TK.

Before he can even begin to process that revelation, he finds himself pushing forward, whining as he captures TK’s lips with his own, his hands coming around to hold the man close to him. 

There’s a moment of shock before TK responds, but when he does, Carlos feels the way that he pushes into him, both of them trying to find some sense of control in the unexpected moment. 

Their tongues tangle together, dancing through familiar choreography from months ago like it was just yesterday. It’s a language that they speak without needing to learn, a conversation that comes naturally and fills Carlos with a yearning so strong that he wishes to never be parted from TK again, lest he forget how magical it is to know this man in this way.

And then, TK loosens his hold, pulling away suddenly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry.”

Carlos watches him struggle to find his words, shaking his head as he steps closer. “No, TK, stop. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Carlos, you’re clearly going through something,” TK explains, his voice sharp as his eyebrows furrow in concern, “and I want to be here for you, but not like this, okay? This isn’t what you need right now.”

“Yes, it is,” Carlos says automatically, and he knows it’s a lie but he can’t help the way that his heart fills with hope at the idea of holding TK again, even just for a moment. “It’s exactly what I need.”

“Carlos, please,” TK pleads, stepping close and taking Carlos’s face in his hands again.

“I want you here, TK, I do,” Carlos says desperately, placing his hands on TK’s hips. “Believe me, I want you right here.”

TK’s expression softens at his words, his lips pulling up into a sympathetic smile. “I want to be right here, too, Carlos,” he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But it can’t happen like this, okay? You’re hurting right now, whether you want me to know it or not, and I can’t be a thing that hurts you even more, no matter how good it might feel in the moment.” He leans forward, resting his forehead against Carlos’s own. “Please, I know you can understand that.”

The thing is, Carlos does. He’s self-aware enough to know that he’s trying to mask the events of today behind something that he knows he wants, something that he knows will bring him a moment of peace. But TK’s right: the moment will come to an end, and if they don’t talk about it, it won’t end well. For either of them.

They both deserve to have this moment when the time is right, not when it’s forced inside a different, painful moment. That’s not fair to them, or their relationship.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos says, choking back tears as his vision blurs. “I’m sorry, TK.”

“Hey, no,” TK cries, pulling him into his arms. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Carlos.”

Carlos buries his face in TK’s neck, finally letting go of the pain from earlier. He lets TK guide him to the couch, where Carlos curls into his side, continuing to unleash everything that has been weighing him down for the past few hours. He feels himself drift off, the exhaustion from his run and his day with Michelle finally pulling him into sleep.

When he wakes up, he’s still on the couch. His shoes are off and a blanket covers his body. The lamp in the corner provides the smallest amount of light, and as he looks around, he realizes he’s alone. 

A note sits on the coffee table in front of him, the paper pulled from the grocery list pad in the kitchen. It’s a simple message, just a few lines. 

Sorry for leaving, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Text me when you’re up for it. -TK

(I’m not running away.)

Carlos’s head falls back onto the couch cushion, and in no time at all, sleep pulls him under again.

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the mermay fills: 10 & 22 with indruck? 👁️👁️ (nsfw or sfw)

I went with ten (tattoos/piercings) first, since 22 will be part of another fill. I went with NSFW, and wrote this as a follow-up to my “Heat” fill from last year.

Indrid swims up  and down the hall outside the palace infirmary. He’s far from the only one doing so; the reef serpent wreaked havoc through the city before the Chosen mers defeated it. He’s not even the only person waiting to see if Duck is alright.

“Have courage, Prince Indrid Cold!” Minerva, sporting a new gash on her face, clamps her hand down on his shoulder in what he knows is her version of a comforting gesture, “Duck Newton is the strongest Chosen after myself. He will pull through.” The blue of her tentacles flashes with pride. 

“Besides” Ned, the castle mer who has, against all odds, become Indrid’s closest advisor, flicks his orange and silver tail “you informed us yourself there were no futures where our friend passed away.”

“I know.” Indrid takes a breath, intending to explain the tangled net of anxiety in his chest. All that comes out is another, “I know.”

Behind him, he hears two nurses murmuring that they’d better bump the prince’s consort up in the line, but before he can turn and order them not to, they’re gone. 

It happened like this: Duck kept his word, began courting Indrid properly once the seer's heat passed, and Indrid reciprocated without hesitation. This caused a near scandal; yes, Duck was a Chosen and thus noble to a degree, but Indrid was a prince, and a prized one. Indrid pointed out that he rather liked someone who cared about his welfare, not just his happiness, and if they had an issue with that, that was their problem not his. And so the comments about Duck moved from to his face to behind his back, which he counted as good enough.

Duck found the whole consort business stressful, given that he’d forgone his Chosen destiny in favor of tending the kelp forests specifically to avoid that kind of fanfare and politics. Thus, they steered clear of the castle when they could, spending their time with their friends in town or in the sunken ship Duck called home. 

When the serpent attacked their town, Duck discovered the limits of his rejecting his destiny, and joined the fight to save his home. Indrid is proud of him, even if his stomach churns whenever the futures shift and he has to see whether the strings of fate weave a grimmer outcome for the man he loves.

It’s well after moonrise when he’s allowed to see Duck. The other mer is half-asleep in his infirmary bed, a massive bandage on his side and one of his tentacles bitten down to a nub

“Hey darlin” The sleepy drawl is accompanied by the mer opening his arms. 

Indrid carefully settles against the non-bandaged side of him, rests his head on his chest with a relieved sigh, “I’m so glad you’re alright. Or, well, mostly alright. You’re in one piece. Sort of. I, I’m not conveying this well.”

“I ain’t dead, given how today went I’m callin that a win. Besides, this’ll grow back in no time.” He wiggles the stub of his tentacle. 

“Mmm” Indrid cuddles closer, purring softly as intact tentacles pet his tail and back.

“When’d you last sleep?” Duck murmurs, kissing the top of his head.

“Not since the attack started.”

“Seems to me we’re both due for some shut eye.”

Indrid nods, right before falling asleep and dreaming of strong tentacles and stronger arms. 

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

“Guess I gotta get a tattoo now.” Duck studies the scar on his side, his bandages having permanently come off this morning. 

“I suppose so. Though, if you’ve avoided so many other parts of Chosen protocol, I fail to see how skipping this one will make things worse.”

“I dunno, I kinda like this one. Used to strike me as macho bullshit, showin off how many battle scars you got. But now...makes me think of how when the forest gets trashed by a storm, or a huge-ass monster tearin through it, there’s a certain kind of pleasure that comes from watchin it heal, watchin it go from desolated and scarred to somethin beautiful.”

Indrid loves when he talks like this, smiles dreamily as Duck adds, “you could even design it for me. I’d like that.”

“I could do you one better; I could apply it as well. And since I foresee you asking yes, I do have the training to do so. Royal mers learn to tattoo themselves, due to rules about being touched by lower ranking mers that I judiciously ignored.”

“No kiddin” Duck grins, two tentacles coiling around Indrid’s tail, teasing the red stripe, “now that I’m healed up, gonna do all kinds of things to you to remind you why you ignored those rules in the first place.”

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

“Are you nervous?” Indrid finishes setting out his tools on the pristine table in his pristine chambers. He tends towards messiness in his habits, but when it comes to Duck’s health he’s cleaned the whole place by hand and with magic. Twice. 

“Nah, I know I’m in good hands.” Even as he says this, a burst of anxious yellow moves up his tentacles. 

“All the same, if you need a break at any point, let me know. And if the scar starts stinging or throbbing, tell me at once.”

“You got it, darlin.”

Indrid takes his time using a spell to transfer his design to Duck’s skin, double checking the placement before picking up the charm-powered tattoo gun. When finished, the tattoo will be a small forest of kelp, with the scar making up most of the body of the serpent swimming between the leaves. Six shades of green ink, three shades of brown, one shade of copper, and black for outlining, lay on the table, Indrid dipping into each of them in turn as he brings the image to life. 

“Love watchin you draw” Duck sighs, then shudders, “sorry, gettin a hell of an adrenaline rush from the pain.”

“Just try to stay still. If you twitch or fidget too much, it will cause mistakes on my end.”

“Do my best.”

“If you don’t, I’ll just have to tie you down.” Indrid says breezily. The tentacle near him pulses purple. Desire. Interesting. 

He’s most of the way through when Duck’s arms shake, his tentacles following suit, occasionally bumping Indrid’s tail or sides.. They’re small movements, all things considered, but in most futures they mean he has to re-do the entire last third of the tattoo. 

“Nono, this won’t do at all.” He set’s the gun down, flitting across to the closet near his bed. A sea-grass rope waits, right where he left. There hasn’t been much call for it, Duck capable of restraining Indrid in a variety of ways all on his own. 

“Now” Indrid bites off several lengths of rope, “since you cannot be still, I am going to tie your tentacles down. You’re to keep your hands where I put them, or I will tie them as well.”

Ducks tentacles are now deep, unflinching purple, “Holy fuck, ‘drid.”

“Just because I am generally submissive around you does not mean I’m not capable of giving orders.” Indrid smirks, tying the first two tentacles down.

“I, I know, it’s just  you, uh, you, you never talk like this.” Duck’s eyes are wide, excited even, as they track Indrid’s circular path. 

“I suppose you don’t hear me during advisory meetings, so this is a new experience for you.”

“Maybe I oughta start sittin in on ‘em.” Duck whines when Indrid kisses his cheek but refuses to stick around long enough for Duck to kiss him back.

“Perhaps. Right now, however, you are to sit still until I’m done with you. Understood?”

“Uh huh.” Duck smiles, docile and sweet, and Indrid wonders why they never thought to try this before. 

He returns to his work, inking colors into Duck’s skin, enjoying the intimacy of learning the familiar curves of his ribs and belly in new ways. At one point he notices Duck tensing and almost moving his hand, but the other mer catches it in time. 

“Good boy.” Indrid purrs.

“Fuck.” Duck tips his head back, “how much longer?”

“About ten minutes more, I’d say. You can manage it my sweet, you’re doing so well already.”

Duck whimpers low in his throat as Indrid goes back to his work. Exactly ten minutes later, he puts a protective covering atop the tattoo and pushes his supply table aside.

“There, all done. You did wonderfully.”

“Great, now untie me.” Duck wriggles hopefully.

Indrid raises an eyebrow, “In a hurry, sweet one?”

“Yes” Duck holds out a hand, trying to coax him closer. 

“Whatever for?” He replies airly, as if can’t sense the arousal pouring off his boyfriend in waves, “and stop moving so much, you’ll aggravate the tattoo.”

“‘Drid please” The folds between his front-most tentacles ripple as his cock starts emerging. 

“Oh I see.” Indrid swims so they’re face to face, pinning Duck’s hands to the back of the chair as he leans into his space, “you want me to fuck you, is that it? You’re willing to risk pain to new scar tissue, even marring my lovingly done work, just to have your cock played with?”

“Holyfuckinshit, why is this the first time you’re talkin like this?” Duck bites his lip with a little moan as Indrid rubs their cheeks together. 

“I don’t know. In hindsight, it seems so obvious; you’re my powerful, competent mate, you always take such wonderful care of me, but you want someone to take away that power from time to time, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Duck tips his chin up, hoping for a kiss, but Indrid floats backwards out of reach,

“What shall we do about that, hmm?” He swims a slow, tight circle around the other mer, staying just out of arms reach, “shall I keep you bound until the urge passes? No, that’s far too cruel for my beloved. Perhaps I should make you see to it yourself? But no, you might accidentally hurt yourself. Hmmm, what to do, what to do….” He taps his chin as Duck growls and whines, tentacles now straining against their bonds. Indrid knows Duck could snap them easily if he needed or wanted to. Which means he wants to remain at Indrid’s mercy for the time being.

“You do look wonderful like this. I didn’t even plan it this way, but how I tied you shows off most of your assets.” Indrid rubs the upper front of his tail, “now you’re getting me all wound up.”

“Good” Duck growls, tentacles swirling purple and pink. 

“Yes it, ahnnn, it is rather good, isn’t it. After all, I have the perfect solution to the situation sitting right in front of me.”

Duck’s cock is fully out, it and the slit beneath it tempting Indrid to abandon his plan. He swims in front of the other mer, eyeing his cock approvingly, “yes, you’ll do quite nicely.”

“Thank fuckOHfummmhp” Duck’s surprised moan turns to a laugh as Indrid, having zipped upwards in a flash, finishes shoving his cock into Duck’s mouth.”

“Yesss, ohyes, goodness I love doing this, you look so charming with your lips around my cock. Ah, ah, don’t you dare move your hands from the chair. This” he gives a sharper thrust, “is all I need to be satisfied.”

Duck moans louder, which Indrid takes as his cue to hold his head in place and fuck into his mouth with abandon. 

“That’s it love, that’s it, oh I ought to have done this months ago, tied my big strong hero down and reminded him of hisAHAnnn, his duties as consort.”

“‘M ot a ero.” 

Indrid looks imperiously down his nose at him, “It’s rude to contradict someone when they’re giving you what you want, my sweet. I guess I’ll need to render you further incapable of speech” He concentrates and extends his cock, a mechanism meant to ensure he can reproduce with mers of any size or genital configuration but that he uses only to make Duck groan with pleasure. 

His orgasm is already racing towards him, as it always does when Duck lets him (or orders him to) fuck his throat, and he shuts his eyes, concentrating on tight heat and the happy, muffled grunts floating up to his ears. 

“Just a little, nnnn, little more my sweet, let your prince ravish your throat a little longerOH, ohgods, Duck, sweetheart, yes.” He cums, a shudder rippling down his tail, and doesn’t pull out until Duck struggles to swallow the rest down. The other mer is still collecting his breath when Indrid wiggles down and pushes his tongue into his slit.

“Fuck!” Duck jerks hard enough to move the chair an inch to the right.

Indrid snickers, wraps both hands around Duck’s cock, stroking it hurriedly as he raises his head, “What do you say, beloved?”

“Th-thank you?” Duck cracks an eye open. Indrid nods, then dips his head back down to to suck and tongue at the senstive skin. 

“Fuckme, ohfuck, ‘Drid, darlin’, this is fuckin incredible, gonna, gonna be such a good consort, do whatever you say, fuck you five fuckin times a day, just, FUCK, just promise we can do this again.”

“Muv ourse.” Indrid thrusts his tongue deeper, twisting his hands on his upstrokes. The fourth time he does, he pops up to suck on the head just in time to catch Duck’s cum in his mouth. He takes his time, sucking him clean with happy trills and moans while his boyfriend utters curses that would make sailors blush.

He pulls away to wipe his mouth, intending to start untying Duck. The futures show that won’t be necessary, 

Snapsnapsnapsnap

The ropes break in pairs, rapid fire, and then Duck is on him, enveloping him in arms, tentacles, and love. He tries to press closer, then winces back, “owfuck, you’re right, the tattoo is real sore.”

“It’ll be that way for a few days. Your Chosen strength will help, but you should still rest when possible.”

“I dunno” Duck kisses him sweetly, then nips his lower lip, “you know how stubborn I can be. Might have to uh, tie me to the bed.”

“That, my love, can be arranged.”