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xbellaxcarolinax · 2 years

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Ravenous (Part 3)

Pairing: Steven Grant x Avatar!Reader, slight Marc Spector x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 4420

Warnings: Violence, language, canon divergence, angst, fluff

Summary: He mostly resided in Marc’s mind, hiding in reflections or fading into obscurity during missions. He was a risk, a liability to both you and Marc, and he had no desire to get in the way and cause more harm.

Hey! I'm new to the Moon Knight fandom :) Hope you all like this thing I wrote.

This is the final part! Thank you to those who came along for the ride, I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart :)

And (again) special thank you to @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for making the gorgeous moodboard and beta reading this monstrosity. ILY <3 Check out her work, you won't be disappointed!

Part 1, Part 2

When Steven saw you again, it was through the eyes of Marc.

It always felt strange being on the other side. He hadn't gotten used to it as Marc had after so many years. It was like being wrapped in tin foil, tightly pressed, and compacted until he was nothing more than a tiny ball of mass.

It felt awful. Suffocating.

Steven noted his surroundings. He wasn’t sure where you both were.

It was hot, blazing even, the sun unforgiving as it beat down over them. Steven was unfamiliar with the landscape. It looked like something out of a National Geographic magazine or one of those nature documentaries he’d sometimes watch. They were obviously quite far from London.

It was a dry climate, the ground below cracked and powdery, bits of dust flying about with the arid breeze.

You were both kneeling behind a massive dead bush at a cliff edge, peering down at something Steven couldn’t make out.

You weren’t in your suit, he noticed, and neither was Marc, which made him think you weren’t on a mission.

That was odd.

Were you both having…a moment? And in a foreign country? Steven didn't know the extent of your interactions with Marc other than Khonshu and Sekhmet's missions. He was blacked out for most of them, lost in darkness while you both did whatever it was you had to do.

It unsettled him, just as it did the night you weren't healing. And why should it? He had his Tarzan moment with you, hands briefly touching—and what? Was something supposed to come from that? Steven didn't think so.

Marc was better suited for you, he always thought so. He understood the moral ramifications of being an avatar. He understood the pain and guilt of it. He understood the exhaustion.

"Steven," Marc suddenly spoke, his American accent cutting hard through the silence, "I can feel you brooding, man, calm down. You're making my stomach hurt."

Oh, sorry! Didn't mean to do that. Where are we, anyway?

"Kenya."

In bloody Africa?

"Your geography skills are outstanding, buddy."

Wanker. What are we doing here?

"We're on a mission for lion lady."

Oh, so it was a mission, then. Steven thought you did those alone. After all, you made most of your moves during the early morning hours while Marc and Steven moved exclusively at night.

What about your suits?

“Not yet,” Marc grumbled, “now keep quiet.”

Oi, don't do that. What’s the sodding mission?

Steven could hear Marc sigh in annoyance and if there were any reflections nearby he could use, he knew he would’ve seen Marc rolling his eyes by now. It was a trait they, unfortunately, both shared.

“Would ya stop askin’ so many questions?”

“A pair of imbeciles.” You muttered to yourself, your hawk eyes trained on whoever it was you had to kill.

“You mean a trio? You’re giving yourself way too much credit there, sweetheart.” Marc countered back, smirking when you stuck your tongue out at him.

Was that you being charming? Marc, you absolute prick.

“Can’t be helped, it’s in the genes.”

“What, being an asshole?” You jokingly asked before adding, “You do ask a ton of questions, though, Steven.”

Is she taking the piss? Unbelievable.

You were amused, Steven could tell even through the slight haziness of his vision. He’d learned to read you better, and although he wasn’t fluent in your language, he viewed it as progress.

He could make out your profile, the tip of your nose, the upward curve of your lips.

You were squinting, eyes fighting against the brightness of the sun. You had a pair of binoculars that hung around your neck through which you looked periodically.

The sight of you made Steven want to take over, wanting to push Marc into the darkness of their dusty mind if it meant he could spend a couple of quiet moments with you.

He was like a lovesick schoolboy. As if you’d ever have him in that way.

You were tough, a fighter, and one hell of a woman, and he was just...Steven. He liked books and Egypt. And he liked you. A lot.

It felt strange admitting that to himself but there it was.

“Poachers, Steven,” you finally answered, as if you heard him ask the question in your own mind, “we’re hunting lion poachers.”

Seriously?

“Their pelts are being sold in the black market.” Marc continued.

“And naturally, Sekhmet isn’t too happy about it," you added, peeking through the binoculars, "They're moving camp, that's our queue."

Why are we even here?

"Khonshu's orders. The stupid bird can't say no to the love of his life."

You snorted at Marc's statement, tossing the binoculars aside and letting your suit engulf you in a blur of red. "It's time," you looked over at Marc with glowing eyes, "you ready or what?”

“Yeah,” Marc grunted in response, letting the white wrappings of his suit slither over his limbs like snakes, “but you’re helping us with that damn scarab later.”

“Not like I have much of a choice, Spector,” you pointed out, “I’m gonna get a head start. Oh, and Steven?” you regarded Marc carefully, hoping Steven was listening, “don’t fight Marc on this, you fucking hear me? Let him deal with it or Sekhmet won’t be happy.” There was an edge in your tone, a sharpness that didn't go unnoticed. With that, you hopped off the cliff edge, a fall that would’ve easily killed anyone else but was nothing short of elegant when you landed on your feet.

What does she mean by that? Steven panicked, watching you slowly descend on the hunting party, just as a lion would, with a lack of fear and an unnatural grace in every one of your movements.

Marc sighed.

“The reason Sekhmet didn’t heal her the night we fought Ammit and her disciples was that she got hurt trying to save us, Steven, trying to save you.”

Steven remained silent, processing the information.

He remembered.

He remembered his anxiety, his overwhelming fear that struck him like lightning during the fight. And he remembered your face, the panic as rare as gemstones that was etched over your features.

So it was his fault, really.

You were growing “soft” because of him. You were punished by an immortal being because of him.

“I know you care for her,” Marc cut into his thoughts, hopping off the ledge of the cliff once he saw you attack, never breaking a sweat or losing his breath, “Christ, she’s pricklier than a fucking cactus, but I care about her, too. And that’s why I’m better suited for these missions. You got a lot to learn. Khonshu is a bastard, but lion lady is worse. Remember that.”

Screams erupted from the campsite, and Marc joined you in the massacre.

»»————-　☾　————-««

Steven rarely took the body after that.

He mostly resided in Marc’s mind, hiding in reflections or fading into obscurity during missions. He was a risk, a liability to both you and Marc, and he had no desire to get in the way and cause more harm.

He felt useless, utterly inadequate.

He lost his job at the museum, no thanks to Harrow and his disciples. Marc handled the situation but Steven had to deal with the consequences, sitting in an office full of his superiors insinuating he was going fucking bonkers.

It was humiliating, to say the least.

The little business card his boss had given him to seek help was in the trash bin later that day, ripped up by Marc almost immediately after taking control for another mission. “Nothing’s wrong with us,” Marc had snapped, “don’t let these people fill your head with bullshit.”

As if their mind could handle any more bullshit.

With no job, Steven kept to himself, only taking full control in his flat where he felt most comfortable, surrounded by his favorite books and a good cup of coffee in his hands.

But his absence didn’t go unnoticed.

“So, Steven’s ignoring me, huh?” You asked one night after a mission, leaning against your kitchen counter, watching Marc devour his takeout. Thankfully, you both made it back in time before the last Chinese restaurant in your neighborhood closed for the night. “What’s wrong with him? I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

You’d drop by Steven’s flat occasionally, either after a mission or just because you were bored, mostly lonely, but he never made much of an appearance. You saw him less and less and fought alongside Marc a lot more, anger and viciousness clouding your every waking moment.

“I wouldn’t call it ignorin’,” Marc answered with a mouth full of steaming rice, “you know how…sensitive he is.”

I am not bloody sensitive!

Marc ignored him, devouring the rest of his veggie stir fry eagerly.

You looked irritated, arms crossed over your chest, eyes as sharp as knives, and lips set in a tight line. It had been a while since Steven had seen that look on your face, such a while in fact that you seemed like an entirely different person already. He watched you grow snappish and irritable again.

Sekhmet must have reveled in it, purring like a house cat in your mind after every kill, feeding off you like a parasite.

"Sensitive about what? Not fighting? Because—"

"It's not that. Not exactly."

Marc, you better not.

"Then what is it?" You insisted, your gaze steady on Marc, hoping to catch just one glimpse of Steven in those dark eyes.

"Jesus, am I not enough for you, sweetheart?" Marc joked, something he'd been doing more of lately, and usually, you gave in to the flirty banter and the bickering, but this time you weren't amused.

You liked Marc, and that was saying a lot. You were similar in more ways than you could count and it was nice to be in the company of someone who understood you. It was like looking into a mirror sometimes, the reflection familiar and comfortable.

But you liked Steven, too, and that was saying even more. His absence was loud, and you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it to them, but you had missed him way more than you probably should have.

"I will snap you in half." You threatened Marc, grabbing the closest object on the counter, a wooden chopstick, thankfully, and sent it flying across the kitchen toward Marc. He caught it with ease, using the one stick to stab into a piece of broccoli before shoving it in his mouth.

"You gotta understand, Steven isn't like us. He actually has…feelings, ya know?" Your brows furrowed at the comment.

Way to go, Marc, that was brilliant. Exactly what she wants to hear, you twat.

"Probably why she likes you a lot more, huh?" Marc muttered quietly, taking a swig of his canned beer before continuing in a louder tone, "Steven just doesn't want to see you hurt because of him." You snorted.

"I'll be fine—"

"No, you don't fucking get it," Marc's tone changed suddenly, the timbre of his voice shifting into something much lower, "he doesn't want to be the reason lion lady punishes you any further. He blames himself. You may not think much of it, or even care, but Steven does. We both do."

Can you just kill me? Is that possible, Marc? Ask Khonshu.

“Shut up, Steven,” Marc growled, and Steven hyper-focused on your eyes as they narrowed, probably even more irked knowing he was conscious and listening.

“Doesn’t mean he has to hide all the time.” You snapped, annoyed with your own reaction. You were revealing way too much of yourself.

“You can take that up with him, sweetheart.”

“How?” You barked, your shoulders sagging down in defeat. You were quiet after that, the plastic Tupperware in your hands sweating from the heat of your forgotten food.

I’ve gone and made things worse, haven't I?

“He’s not doing it to hurt you, you know.” Marc ran a hand through his dark curls. He wanted a way to pacify you both, but his need to protect Steven was strong.

“I’m not hurt.” You argued.

“Mhm.” Marc wasn’t convinced.

“It’s fine,” you said with a shrug, tossing your uneaten food into your empty fridge, rubbing your tired eyes, “I'm going to bed. you can stay if you want, or not, doesn't really matter."

Before heading to your bedroom you looked over your shoulder, a look in your eyes they've never seen before.

“I have feelings too, you know,” you said, directing it to both Marc and Steven, “may not seem that way because I’m always, ya know,” you aimlessly waved a hand around to help with your point, “angry.” You shrugged, your vulnerability cracking through.

"Tell Steven not to beat himself up. I can handle Sekhmet. I would risk her wrath anytime if it meant keeping him safe. Both of you,” You paused for just a second to collect your thoughts, “he’s not alone. He should know that by now.” Your face hardened again as if you didn't say a heartfelt thing at all. And then you retreated into your room, the door immediately closing.

“Since when did I become the messenger and the fucking therapist?” Marc rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter.

I dunno but you’re quite shit at it, mate.

“I know. But I think that was the nicest thing I’ve ever heard her say.”

Should I go talk to her? I feel like a twit. Steven answered with a sigh.

"Give her some time." Marc tossed out his Tupperware, padding over to your old sofa and taking a seat with a deep sigh.

Shouldn’t we go?

"Wanna make sure she's okay.”

What happened to ‘she’s a grown woman, she can handle herself’?

“Shut up, Steven,” Marc muttered, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

☾☾☾

In the morning, it was Steven who woke up.

He was still in the same position Marc had fallen asleep in except there was a blanket draped over him.

He looked around your empty flat with heavy eyes, stretching his legs and flexing his toes.

Running his hands through his hair he felt something stuck to his forehead. It was a yellow sticky note with red ink scrawled over it in what he assumed was your chicken scratch handwriting. Leave it to you to have nothing in your flat but vodka, sticky notes, and a red pen.

Out on a mission.

Fishermen off the coast of Scotland.

There are keys on the coffee table if you want them.

Shifting his eyes toward the coffee table there were two keys held by a metal keyring neatly placed over the false wood. Steven reached forward and grabbed them, feeling the weight of them in his palm before jamming them into the pocket of Marc’s sweats.

He looked over at the window. It was still early in the morning.

He might as well stay around until you come back if only to talk.

☾☾☾

Steven was in your small kitchen, shuffling around making lunch when he heard a loud bang from your bedroom before you emerged, your red suit still on.

He was startled at first only remembering a second later that you had a ceiling window and that you probably slithered in that way.

You stared at him, confusion clouding your features.

“Hey, Grouch.” He greeted you, his hands immediately moving forward over his front to twiddle his fingers together in his anxiousness. His accent wasn’t so obvious in his greeting but the separating factor between him and Marc were the nicknames they had for you.

“Steven Grant? Could it really be you?” The sarcasm radiated off you as you slowly shuffled forward, exhaustion clear in the way you carried yourself, “What are you doing here?” Your suit disappeared, revealing your usual cargo pants, t-shirt, and Steven’s denim jacket.

“Oh, you know, just makin’ some lunch,” he shrugged as if it were a usual occurrence, cooking in your kitchen, "you hungry?"

He had prepared veggie burgers with sweet potato chips in the one pan you owned, presenting them on paper plates he had to grab from the store since you didn't even have that in your kitchen cupboard. Steven offered you the plate when you finally approached him, holding the burger between the two of you like a peace offering.

You look between Steven and the plate as if there were danger lurking behind his intentions. You were still in adrenaline mode from your mission, your chest heaving a bit from the climb into the ceiling window.

He watched as you grasped the plate tightly in your hand, tight enough to disintegrate the paper if you really wanted to.

You scanned the burger and chips, your stomach growling at the smell.

"I'm mad at you." You finally muttered, picking at a chip and shoving it into your mouth.

“Uh, I know,” Steven said, twiddling his fingers again, willing his heart to stop hammering in his chest, “I just wanted to make lunch and talk about it, I s’pose.” He beamed as soon as you bit into the veggie burger, pleased with himself when you closed your eyes for a moment in approval of the taste.

“So talk.” You urged with your mouth full, leaning against your counter as you always did when eating.

“Uh, well…” shit. He didn’t plan this far ahead.

A huff escaped you as you set your paper plate down on the counter beside Steven’s.

He could swear an amused glint flashed in your eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong? Or am I gonna have to force it out of you?” You asked, picking up a chip and using it to point at him before pressing it past your lips.

Steven watched your movements for a moment before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck.

“I dunno, guess I’ve been feelin’ like a burden lately. A proper twit. I lost my job, ya know.” He couldn’t meet your gaze, keeping his sight on his barely touched food.

“Fuck 'em, they didn’t deserve you. Too smart for them anyway.” You popped another chip in your mouth, savoring the subtle sweetness before noting Steven’s sad eyes. “You’re worried.” You concluded.

“Why didn’t you tell me what lion lady was doing to you was because of me?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you, Steven,” you sighed, “‘sides, there are too many factors involved. And I’m just…tired. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Of course, I’m going to bloody worry!” He didn’t realize how close you both have gotten to each other, eyes now locked completely, “I care about you, Grouch!” There was silence after his declaration, something as simple as those words rang loud and heavy between them. “Worry is all I do if you haven’t noticed.” He added quietly.

You blinked up at him, a smirk stretching across your lips as you watched him squirm under your intense gaze.

“You care about me?” You snorted with a shake of your head, “I’m a nightmare to deal with, you know this.”

“Oh no, love,” Steven defended, grasping your hand in his, “you’re not so bad once your shell cracks a bit.” You looked down at both his hands clasped over your own, feeling the warmth that radiated off him. You were cold, Steven realized, but he let go of your hand, suddenly extremely self-conscious.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” you said, just as quietly, “I care about you, too. More than you know.”

The admission had Steven shuffle back as if he received a punch to the gut. His lips parted in an attempt to say something, anything, but words failed him.

“I guess it’s true, I’m getting soft, huh?” You joked as your eyes fluttered down to his lips, watching how his tongue darted out to moisten them before you surged forward to kiss him.

It was short and sweet, so unlike you in the face of a fight. Just a light tap that promised so much more. You licked his lower lip, tugging on it gently with your teeth before pulling away.

You didn’t get far as Steven curled his hand over the back of your neck, pulling you close again to steal another kiss from you.

It was a clash of teeth in the beginning before he found his rhythm, his lips learning to move in sync with your own. The tip of his tongue poked out every so often to clumsily offer you little kitten licks.

You hummed, bringing your body flush against his, sighing once you felt his warm hand grip your waist, hesitantly at first, his thumb drawing tiny circles over the skin under your t-shirt.

Steven was on fucking cloud nine.

You tasted a bit sweet from the chips and a bit savory from the veggie burger, but the tiniest taste of iron lingered and settled on his tongue. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of you ravenous and wild just before this.

He felt your fingers dance over his arms, gripping his bicep so tight that a whimper escaped him, and you took the opportunity to plunge your tongue into his mouth to explore, your hands moving to run your fingers through his messy curls. You tugged the dark strands, gently at first and then a bit rougher, exposing his neck to you. You dragged your nose over his exposed skin, breathing in his scent before licking a stripe up the delicate skin.

“You’re killing me, love,” Steven whined as you smiled against his skin, his eyes closing as he savored your touch. He pulled away from you for only a moment to drag his lips over your brow in a fleeting kiss, pulling you back in for a tight hug and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t want you to get hurt ‘cause of me.” He mumbled into your skin, his nose catching the scent of the Scottish sea in your hair. You shifted in his arms so that you could look him in the eyes.

“I need you to trust me when I say I can handle Sehkmet,” you run your thumb over the concerned lines that wrinkled his brow, your touch so gentle despite the damage you could truly cause, “I’ve been her avatar long enough to appease her. What you’re not gonna do,” You continued, jabbing your finger into his chest with force to make your point clear, “is run into a fight you’re not ready for, like a proper twit.”

Steven would’ve smiled at your use of one of his terms if he weren’t so embarrassed. His cheeks were blazing. How could he be with someone who he couldn’t protect? He couldn’t even protect himself.

That’s why you have me, idiot.

Steven turned to look at the glass of your cupboard, the reflection revealing Marc's stern eyes looking back at him. But there was something else swimming in his eyes, something dark and sad and just a bit lonely, but Steven couldn’t focus on it for too long, not when you were pressed against him like a cat begging for attention.

“I don’t mean to say it in a hurtful way,” you clarified, turning his cheek back so that his eyes met yours again, “Marc is better suited for the missions. For now. That’s not to say you can’t fight, I’ve seen you in action. You pack a mean punch,” Steven felt his chest puff out in pride, deflating a tad when you continued, “but I’d rather not see you hurt either, got it?” The sternness in your tone suddenly crept up and had Steven squirming again for entirely different reasons.

“Got it, boss,” Steven said, a goofy smile forming over his lips that was as blinding as the sun, though it disappeared as quickly as it came when it was swapped for one of his more serious looks. “Just one thing.”

“Mm?”

“You can talk to me, ya know. That whole bottling-up emotions thing you and Marc do? That’s not healthy. You can talk to me. Please.” His eyes were so sincere, so full of love that you could’ve melted right then and there. Since when did Steven have that kind of power over you?

You pursed your lips in thought and Steven had to suppress the urge to rush forward to capture your lips again, choosing instead to patiently await your answer.

“Got it, boss,” you ultimately decided, repeating his own words, “I’ll try my best.”

“Promise?”

“Mhm.”

“Brilliant.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” you shoved your hand in your pocket, presenting Steven with a crinkled piece of paper, “I got you a postcard.”

Steven took it delicately in his hands, smoothing out the postcard gently over the counter. It was an illustrated image of the Loch Ness monster, with the words ‘Greetings from Scotland’ written in white cursive over the top. He laughed, holding the postcard gingerly in his hands before turning to you with bright round eyes.

“It’s going right up with the rest of ‘em. Gus’ll be happy. Thank you, it's brilliant.”

You did what you always did and shrugged off his appreciation, taking another bite of your now-cold veggie burger. “It’s nothing,” you insisted, watching how Steven shuffled from foot to foot, his eyes still trained on his new postcard. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re gonna get out of this, yeah? Somehow. All three of us. We’re getting out of this.”

“Steven, what are you talking about?”

“This whole avatar mess,” he elaborated, “we’ll find a way out. There has to be another way.”

“You know that’s not possible. Sekhmet and Khonshu are too hungry for chaos and revenge. They need us.”

“But it’s good to hope, innit?” He said, his eyes catching yours now, laced with a child-like yearning.

“Yeah, it's good to hope,” you put your paper plate down, “especially when you’re not alone.” You grabbed the front of his hoodie, Marc’s hoodie, in a tight fist, pulling him in for another bruising kiss. “We have each other, right?”

Steven only hummed into the kiss, his lips hungry, searching for the different parts of you he wanted to explore. His hands grasped the collar of his denim jacket tightly dragging you closer, all his fear and anxiousness disappearing for this one moment.

“I should probably give your jacket back now, huh?” You muttered over his lips, laughing when impatient noises bubbled out of him.

“It’s already yours, love, now shut up and kiss me.”

»»————-　☾　————-««

Part 1, Part 2

...

Taglist:

@local-mr-frog @yumeillu @parkeepingparker @woofgocows @ladythomsen @sansaorgana @rosecentaur1916

#moon knight #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you

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wormwoodandhoney · 6 months

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Hi!! Saw you did an alice in wonderland meets indiana jones moodboard and was wondering if you could do the same for Dorothy and Wendy (These three are my ultimate trio and brotp). If not then maybe something with Red riding hood, Gretel, and Goldilocks? (Their my "lost in the woods" babies)

do you mean like wendy and dorothy as similar indiana jones style? if you just want to see the three of them i have the three of them as final girls teaming up here!

#ask #anon

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stuckybingo · 2 years

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Stucky Bingo Round-Up #38 (May 28th)

Don’t forget to fill out the submission form to be a part of the round-ups and to get your bingo badges!

Unlucky in Love by liloau Square filled: O1 - Romantic Comedy Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Meet Ugly, Bad Luck Charm Steve Rogers Summary: Everything was going great – coming up Bucky, if you will – until he met Steve. Format: Moodboard

Sam would gaslight Bucky for kicks. by Ribbonsflying Square filled: N5 - Writing Format: Drabble Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply, gaslighting Major tags: gaslighting, comedy, friends, cap3, cars Summary: "Can you move your seat up?" Format: Drabble (exactly 100 words)

Threefold by Laevateinn Square filled: O5 - Kink: Nipple play Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: established relationship, polyamory, smut and fluff, Dom Natasha, soap art (nsfw) Romanov, Summary: ""Three hits to the heart son And it's poetry in motion Three hits to the heart son And the last one sings in me * * * When people have been and seen as much as Natasha, Bucky and Steve have, their relationship is bound to be special. Follow the trio as their find out how they can take care of each other through kink. Summary lyrics from """"Three Hits"""" by the Indigo Girls. Written by Amy Ray."" Format: Long oneshot (over 5000 words)

distraction by circaclementine Square filled: I3 - kink: food play Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Alternate Universe - No Canon Powers, Established Relationship, Music Student!Bucky, Jock!Steve, Kink: Food Play/ Summary: It's exam season, and Bucky's been spending hours daily working on his thesis composition. Steve understands how important this is to him. Steve also knows Bucky is quick to get lost in his work. What better to bring him back to reality than his whipped-cream-and-cherry-bedecked boyfriend? Format: moodboard

fear and friction by circaclementine Square filled: I5 - motorbike Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply, implied attempted murder, medical setting Major tags: Alternate Universe - No Canon Powers, Established Relationship, Attempted Murder, Mystery, Illness. Summary: When his boyfriend ends up in the hospital after a suspected poisoning, not even his deep fear of doctors can keep Steve away from his beloved. Format: moodboard

when is a monster not a monster? by circaclementine Square filled: G1 - au: mythical creatures Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Supernatural Crossover, Alternate Universe - Mythical Creatures, Alternate Universe - No Canon Powers, Phoenix!Bucky Barnes, Solider!Steve Rogers. Summary: Steve Rogers is perpetually in the wrong place at the wrong time. When what he sees isn't compatible with the world he knows, he digs into mythology and lore, hoping to uncover the secrets of the man who can turn others to ash with just a touch. His searching turns into a quest to discover the truth... and draws the kind of attention to himself that he's worked hard to avoid. With Steve's luck, it was only time before his target caught on. What has Steve gotten himself into? Who is the man in black? And most importantly... are monsters real? Format: moodboard

prove it by circaclementine Square filled: G3 - rivalry Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Canon Adjacent, Angry!Bucky Barnes, Sergeant James Barnes, Pre-serum Steve Rogers, Rivalry. Summary: ""We're out here risking our lives while he plays soldier? What kind of bullshit is that?"" The war has been brutal, and Sergeant Bucky Barnes has no time for Erskine's program. To him, Erskine is just old man trying to stay relevant. When he meets Steve Rogers, and sees how Carter shines up at him, he makes it his mission to challenge the golden boy until he proves himself or breaks. Format: moodboard

scar tissue by circaclementine Square filled: O2 - scars Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Canon Compliant, Memory loss, Separation, Lost Love, Reunions, Angst. Summary: “It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” ― Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy Format: moodboard

The Tin Man's Tell-Tale Heart by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy Square filled: O5 - Unrequited Love Ao3 rating: Mature Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Shrinkyclinks, Hydra Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Enemies to Lovers, Reunions Summary: Bucky Barnes never expected to survive the war without his best friend. Under Captain Carter’s leadership, he did and became a vital weapon for the American government during the Cold War as the Winter Soldier. At almost a century old, he’s not thinking about much more than getting through each day’s work with his partners, Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff. An unexpected encounter with Hydra’s Patriot Stomper turns his world upside down and gives him something he didn’t think he’d ever be fortunate to have. Format: Long oneshot (over 5000 words)

#stucky bingo #stucky bingo round 3 #round up 38 #weekly round up #don't forget to fill out the submission form

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oncexinxmyxdreams · 7 months

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Encanto OC Event Week 2: Alejandra and Francisca. The Light and The Darkness

Moodboard for the sisters: especially showing locations of Santa Marta, where they were separated and Boyaca, their current home.

For starters, you know how all the Madrigal siblings are supposed to represent trios? Like past, present and future for PB&J. The twins are metaphors inspired from this quote. "Every moment of light and dark is a miracle." – Walt Whitman. They're opposites that need each other.

Francisca and Alejandra have a good relationship despite being different. Alejandra's content making arts and crafts with beads and trinkets. Francisca prefers reading textbooks or practicing chess strategies. They still shop and do chores together since they share a small house. They people watch while in town. They like sitting in the hammock during the evenings, enjoying the quiet or shooting the breeze. They usually call each other by their nicknames: Ale and Fran. They have special ones that nobody else knows: Beads and Bones. Alejandra sometimes call her Cisca or Cissy like when she was little.

They know each other's behavior and personalities like a book. Alejandra gets annoyed over Francisca's insensitivity and arrogance. Francisca gets irritated by Alejandra's disorganization, wishfulness and her mice. They poke fun at the other, but nothing malicious. They still provide care. Alejandra still helps her with migraines and wishes there was something to easily cure them. When she broke her arm, Francisca cracked the bones back in place and helped her mend. (Wondering why Francisca's nickname is Bones?) 😉

Since Francisca doesn't have the best reputation in town, Alejandra's gained confidence in speaking up for her. Usually, people pity that she "can't see the truth" of Francisca. On the other side of the coin, Francisca can tell when someone's trying to take advantage of Alejandra's kindness and will intervene.

It's been mentioned that Francisca was part of a con artist gang, five members, who were impressed by her intelligence. At one point, they demanded for Alejandra to spend a night with one of them. Francisca refused and even when intimated, she threatened back. She didn't keep it secret from Alejandra and promised she'd keep her safe. There are huge spoilers I want to save, but they'll be worth the reveal. For now, Alejandra was terrified for both of them. Her fear though couldn't hold her back when she was certain Francisca was in danger. She managed to fight one of the members who started attacking her sister. Francisca managed to trick three members into being arrested. One died first and another fled in hiding.

The 6 months apart when Francisca was imprisoned, was the worst time of their lives. Francisca felt like she failed: her wits hadn't helped, and she'd joined the gang instead of ignoring their flattery. The worst was failing her twin. She hadn't kept her safe. She'd have to face the consequences that if anything bad happened to Alejandra it was all her fault. For Alejandra she was anxious the worst was happening. She'd lost her mom, what's to stop life's cruelty from taking her sister? She tried to pick up the pieces and solve problems. That's what her sister would do so Alejandra would do it for her. Light and darkness having to exist without the other.

Onto something more cheerful. It felt like a miracle to be reunited again after all those months and both siblings sought a new life in Boyacá, far away from Santa Marta. They've lied about being twins for safety. (Who knows if the gang will get out and seek them?) Since Alejandra's always looked younger than her age, she agrees to say she's a few years younger and Francisca gives herself a different birth date, January 1st. Best she remembers another date, so Alejandra doesn't get mixed up. One thing they agreed, they'd never be apart that long again.

"At least until one of us dies and if things go well, that's years away," Francisca bluntly said.

Alejandra laughed and tugged her into a side hug. "I missed your dark sense of humor Fran."

Light and dark reunited to never separate again.

@encanto-extended-edition

Alejandra and Bruno's friendship is next. Prepare for sweetness!

#encanto oc appreciation #encanto oc art #encanto #Francisca Cordova #Alejandra Cordova #Miracles Come in Pairs

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thornsnvultures · 2 years

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make you whole ♡

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

summary: "What do you have?!" "A knife!" "No!!!"

warnings: knife injury, blood mention, all pretty tame but I'd rather be safe then sorry

words: 725

a/n: this is my submission for @real-jane 's #HealingHandsChallenge in celebration of her hitting 725 followers 🥰 I hope you like it, Kate, it was so hard for me to stop at 725 lol (maybe I'll write the smutty follow up to this down the line 🥴) Kate, I adore your writing. The way you have with words never fails to take my breath away, there's always new sides I see of you with every story you post and I hope we keep getting to see more and more. Thanks for including me in this, girlie, I had a lot of fun 💖 (like god I cranked that out in 2hrs. umm mom are you proud of me?? I made a moodboard who am i??)

18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI. IF YOU INTERACT AND YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI.

"Aren't you supposed to be some kinda elite knife murder…man? How did you accidentally cut yourself?" The stupid paper wrapper won't come off of the bandaid and it's driving you nuts. Stupid manicure, you huff to yourself and rip the paper open with your teeth. Thankfully one of the caterers had some bandaids in their bag but the character options were abysmal and apparently their packaging was military grade tough.

"So eloquent, doll." Bucky drolls sarcastically. "You're just a vision in white and I got distracted."

"Or, you were goofing around with Steve again. I told you not to play with knives around him anymore, he's a bad influence. And on our wedding day, too,' you shake your head, "unbelievable."

Bucky watched you struggle with a smirk on his face. He would ask if you wanted help but you growled, actually growled, last time. "You shouldn't be patching me up, I'll get blood on your dress."

"You're not gonna get blood on my dress."

"It'll be healed up in an hour anyway."

"That doesn't mean you don't deserve to be taken care of, Bucky!"

Your eyes meet over the Paw Patrol bandaid, now opened, paper partially peeled off in your hands.

"Sorry for snapping."

Bucky doesn't answer right away, letting you finish making sure his thumb has gotten the dire medical attention it needed. He smiles, admiring your handiwork.

"You do an amazing job taking care of me, doll."

"Of course I do. I love you, Buck. Or I wouldn't be here in this big silly dress." Your arms flail around you at the pile of tulle you're currently swamped in on the floor in front of him.

"I know, sweetheart."

You grab hold of his hand once again, press a quick, light kiss to the blue police dog taped to Bucky's thumb and and smile. "So cute."

"Y'know that's gonna show in our wedding pictures."

"Oh now you care about wedding pictures, Bucky?"

"No, but you care. You know if it was up to me we would've had our trio of idiots escort us to the courthouse and gotten this done in 20 minutes." He's right. Sam had even offered to drive.

"But don't I look pretty, Buck?" You bat your eyelashes, like anyone could ever describe you as coy, and Bucky snorts out a laugh. His calloused hands cradle your face like you're made of something delicate and precious and maybe you are, to him. It's why you're here in a large storage closet surrounded by white folding chairs and tables putting a silly little cartoon bandaid on his thumb instead of out there celebrating with your extended family. You're precious to him in ways he never thought he'd deserve. Delicate in how someone else's love could hold you up and in and wrap around you so nothing spills and you're whole. His thumbs, one metal one...plastic and sticky, caress your cheeks in soothing circles as he stares at you, lost in thought. You could go for a nap, waiting for him to come back to you, but he never took too long.

"We should get back." The low timbre of his voice sends shivers up your spine.

"We should."

"You do look beautiful by the way." Bucky plucks at the strap strategically placed over your shoulder and something in you wants him to keep pulling until there's nothing left.

"So I've heard. From you. About every five minutes."

"But it's true, doll." He runs his rough fingers down your arm and you feel like you're already shaking under him, about to fall apart. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That you stabbed yourself so you could sneak me away and have your way with me in a broom closet?"

"Wha- no! Haha! What kinda lunatic do you think I am, sweetheart? I-," he coughs and clears his throat, "okay, maybe."

"Good," you smile with a tilt of your head, feeling his thick thighs tense under your fingertips. "'Cause I'm dying to get out of this dress. How long do you think Nat and Steve can hold off the angry mob when they realize we ditched the party?"

"Who cares, I wanna have my way with my fuckin' wife. Now let me help you get-"

You wince when you hear something tear in his hands.

"Careful, grandpa, we just got you patched up."

#healinghandschallenge #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #bucky barnes fluff #my fics

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piper-mcqueen-ask-blog · 7 months

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Ask box is open for Piper Mclean + Leo and Jason because they are a package deal seriously ask anything I have an empty inbox 😥

-I draw + make moodboards for the lost trio so feel free to request anything <3

#hoo #piper mclean #piper #heroes of olympus #pjo #pipermclean #drawing #leo valdez #jason grace #jason #valgrace #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

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austarus · 3 years

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Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader x Harry Wells: Six Crows - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Precipice of Change

*A/N: This moodboard was created by my bestest friend and greatest Wells Trash Trio writer @darlingpetao3.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes for being my beta reader.

****I’d like to say that this is my own fancast of Thaddeus and Jackson (Dylan O’Brien and Logan Lerman). If you have someone else in mind, then freely think of them in the fic. I do want to also say if you do not like, then do not read. I will not be changing things in my fic to appease every single person as these fics are written for me.

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader x Harry Wells: Six Crows

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 5723

A yawn broke from Thaddeus’ lips, his mind booted up as light from the sun filtered into his room, hitting his closed eyelids. The speedster blinked slowly, his body waking up. His ears perked up to the sounds of birds tweeting and leaves rustling. Oh yeah, I forgot I left the window open last night. A chill ran down his spine as the wind breezed into his room. It was a guest room that you and Thaddeus had converted to his own style. With sleepy eyes open, Thaddeus cleared his throat and felt an ache run through him. Yesterday, Jesse and himself had been going back and forth regarding the differences in their Speedforces as well as the variety of abilities a speedster can utilize. One thing that always stumped them was Zoom’s ability to cross Earth’s with a simple punch to the air rather than running to create a breach. Other speedsters weren’t able to accomplish such a feat yet… Zoom had claimed to not be fast enough to create a Speed Mirage. Thaddeus and his father can.

Craning his head to the side, Thaddeus’ clock read 10 o’clock in the morning. The speedster frowned but let it go. I never wake up this late. Jack and I are usually the first ones waking up dad or… well, berating him for sleeping in his lab again. I guess I really did need to sleep. He thought of Jackson and Harry- his second father. He missed his brother and dad terribly. Don’t worry dad, Jack, we will make things right. The smell of food wafted in the air causing the young speedster’s stomach to growl. But first, food. Need food. Crave food. Thaddeus got up, chasing the lethargy from his body to freshen up and shower before heading downstairs.

A whistle came from the kitchen along with soft classical music. Thaddeus shook his head at the music selection. He strode in to see his other dad – Eobard – working away at making breakfast. Bacon and cream cheese were set at the table along with a plate of fruits and vegetables. A small smile crossed Thaddeus’ face. Nothing processed… unless you count the times dad and dad snuck Big Belly Burger for those late nights in the labs. That memory crossed his mind: Thaddeus and Jackson were only five, but they remembered. They snuck out of bed and got caught by both fathers, instead of reprimanding them Harry and Eobard had the boys help them out in the lab. Because at six years old, the trauma of loss made the young boys hold on to every memory of their lost father then their comatose mother. Harry being the only viable parent.

“Morning, dad.”

“Good morning, Thaddeus. Sleep well?”

“Yeah, though I think I need a new pillow. My neck is killing me.”

“That can be arranged, your mom has spare new pillows in the linen closet down the hall.”

“Bet, I’ll grab one for tonight.”

Even after living with you and Eobard for two months the feeling was still foreign to Thaddeus. Waking up to see his dad alive and his mom bustling around. Eobard had been executed when Thaddeus and Jackson were six, young, yet old enough to process the feeling of loss and grief. Then Barry ambushed his family, only to fight you and then lock you away while both boys were at a young age of 12. It… felt odd to be around you and Eobard now. A good odd. A calm joy flickered around in his heart. Thaddeus wished Jackson could be here to experience the same thing. Jack. Dad. Raking a hand through his hair, Thaddeus looked around in confusion – a bit of panic settled in him.

“Where’s mom?” The speedster kept his voice even.

“She’s out.”

“Oh, doing what?”

Eobard pursed his lips for a moment, throwing the kitchen towel over his shoulder as he contemplated his next words. Thaddeus had a right to know, he’s much older now. He was not a child that you or Harry could shield anymore. The Negative Speedforce user doubted that your future self would ever allow your young twins to know about them. “She’s at the gym.”

“Mom goes to the gym???”

“Yeah, she’s been going for a while actually.” Eobard nodded a sigh leaving his lips, “When… she’s not able to sleep, she goes out to tire her body… and eventually her mind. It’s her way of letting everything pent up out. Either that or she’s training in our... supposed training room.” The dark-haired villain glanced at his son, placing the omelet on a ceramic plate. You had started to go when you needed to cope – after your recuperation and with Zoom running around. Thaddeus’ face held his question prominently so Eobard continued, “She can’t sleep on some nights – sometimes most nights – because of her nightmares.” He had seen them himself in your mind when you and he were still looking for a way into the Negative Speedforce to get his body. The amount of loss, the past depression. The almost drowning incident. And now the impending doom of a crippled future for your family. Eobard’s seen the haunted look in your eyes after having a night fit. You never talk, just have him cuddle you. He never pushed you to talk about it, you would open up in time and he would be beside you. But now, with the idea of impending loss, Eobard didn’t know what other nightmares have sprung up in your mind since Thaddeus had told you his future’s truth.

Thaddeus balled a fist under the island table; he had a pretty good guess of what those nightmares are. Everyone might be able to deal with their demons, but sometimes it was just too much to handle. His mother – one of the strongest people he’d known all 12 years of his life had only lost that smile twice. Once when his father had gotten executed and the second time when Barry had invaded Thaddeus’ home. He opened his mouth to say something, but Eobard’s phone went off. A little jingle for a text. The speed genius picked up his phone and checked the message. Raising an eyebrow, Eobard looked at his son before stepping away from the stove.

“Thaddeus, can you watch the pancakes for a moment?”

“Sure?” The speedster stepped over to man the pancakes while his father clapped a hand to his shoulder and sped away. Thaddeus flipped the pancake; it had chocolate and butterscotch chips in them. His favorite. A few seconds passed and Eobard had returned with you in his arms. You leaned up and kissed Eobard’s lips, a sweet smile on your face when you pulled away. Thaddeus grinned at his parents and flipped the pancake once more, both sides a golden-brown color. Yum.

“Thank you!” You pulled away only for Eobard to tighten his arms around your waist.

“Uh uh, there’s a service fee?”

“For what?”

“For my services.” He smirked down at you and leaned in while wiggling his eyebrows at you, causing you to giggle while trying to playfully push him away.

“A room, get a room,” Thaddeus groaned before nudging his parents to get to the table, “and good morning to you too, mom.” He placed the plate of pancakes next to the bacon.

You gave Eobard one more kiss on his pouty lips, stepping out of his arms to give Thaddeus a big and tight hug, “Good morning, sweetie.” He noted the exhaustion on your face, the slight bags under your eyes that he saw when you pulled away. “Give me 15 minutes to shower and wash up and I’ll be ready for breakfast.” A yawn left your lips at your statement.

Your fiancé stopped you when you made it to the stairs, Thaddeus fully took over on making breakfast. Eobard moved his head to whisper in your ear, a hand feeling up your butt, “These leggings really are making a statement, aren’t they? I could just eat you all up.” He nibbled on your earlobe.

“Then why don’t you?” You challenged him with a cheeky side-eye.

“Tempting, but breakfast and proper sleep are due for you. Then we can play.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” you pouted, sleep biting at your mind. You didn’t know how you were going to shower without passing out.

“Sleep is what keeps my fiancé from being pouty all day,” The speedster mused, kissing you hard before speeding you up to the bathroom. He knew you were too tired to keep yourself up, so he planned to help you.

***

“You said 15 minutes,” Thaddeus muttered as you and Eobard sat down at the table. He had reheated the food when he heard the water stop. “That was not 15 minutes.”

“In my defense,” you started, “I needed to complete my hair and face care routine.”

“Yes, because the forces above know that the multiverse will end if you don’t do things in a timely manner,” Eobard teased you, stabbing at some bacon and eating a strip.

“Oh boo, you whore,” you stuck your tongue out at him while putting some cinnamon on your honeyed bananas. “Hm, that’s weird.” You checked the time on your phone as your boys ate. “Jesse should have been here by now-”

Wind blew into the kitchen as Jesse appeared, the napkins flying off the table, “Sorry, I overslept a bit.” She tensed a bit at the sight of Eobard. Regardless of how things are now, she couldn’t help but to be wary around him. The Reverse Flash hadn’t done particularly anything against her, but her loyalties still remained with her friends in Team Flash. Even if her dad was gone because of them… The Earth-2 speedster took a seat beside her half-brother, throwing a grin his way to which he returned accompanied by a plate, and you. She scooped some fruit, pancakes, and eggs.

“So,” you broke the silence, locking your eyes onto your son, “I’ve been wanting to ask this, but it kept slipping out of my mind.” Taking a sip of water, you continued, “But, I wanted you to tell me about yourself, Thaddeus. About Jackson.”

“What do you want to know?” He poked at the strawberry on his plate, moving it into the syrup.

“Anything, I just…” I want to know that I didn’t screw up as a mom. Eobard eyed you from his periphery. “Like what did you major in, interests, and hobbies. Likes and dislikes.”

“Oh, that’s-” Thaddeus shrugged, stumbling over his words, “That’s not hard- I thought- Well, ok- I’m a Computer Scientist with three Ph.D.’s.” Eobard grinned to himself, obviously proud of his son as he finished up his plate. Jesse smirked while you ‘oo’ed. Thaddeus felt his cheeks warm slightly. “They’re in physics, math, and computer science. We lived on Earth-2.” Jesse set down her fruit and you swallowed thickly. “We moved there because it was safer. You know? Away from Barry and Iris. Uncle Cisco and Aunt Caitlin would visit once in a while, but… It got hard. Dad told Jack and I that it’s best to be there, so we grew up in Central City there.” The young speedster scratched the back of his neck, “I know four languages – well, Uncle Sherloque taught me French – but I learned German, Mandarin, and Norwegian because what else am I going to do other than learn something new and video games. I absolutely despise sour-tasting food and pickles. And I’m bi…” Thaddeus had come out to his brother first, knowing that his brother was his confidante

You and Jesse glanced at one another wickedly before Jesse popped the question. “Is there a… specific person that you’re perhaps thinking of?” She nudged his shoulder with raised eyebrows and a sly smile. Eobard rolled his eyes knowing this was going to turn into a grilling session. He just wanted whoever ends up with Thaddeus to treat him right and make him happy.

“I- you know how it is- ”A nervous stutter left Thaddeus’ lips, the blood rushing terribly to his cheeks. “He’s not- at least I don’t think he’d-”

“So, it’s a ‘he’,” you cooed, “what’s he like?”

“I- He’s…”

Eobard sent you a subtle nudge and you nodded at him then turned to Thaddeus. “It’s ok, honey, you don’t need to say anything, you know.” You winked at him. “As long as he makes you happy, your dads and I will support you no matter what.”

Thaddeus’ insides tightened at your sincere words. “Thanks, mom,” he responded gently.

“And Jackson?” Your heart ached in your chest. “W-what’s he like?”

“He mainly goes by Jack. He also has three Ph.D.’s. Physics, organic chemistry, and biomedical engineering. He can play the guitar and let me tell you,” your son chuckled to himself, “I don’t know how many girls have swooned at the mention of a guitar player. I don’t know, something about nimble fingers, I guess. Off track – sorry not sorry – but he knows French and Latin. Again, Uncle Sherloque taught us French. Sometimes he can be moody or sulky, you know like dad. He can be quiet a lot, but he’s a really good listener and problem solver.”

“I’m assuming that in the future Sherloque and the others were well?” Eobard asked, knowing that you wouldn’t dare to. He remembered the sly detective from when the speedster inhabited Nash’s mind.

“Yeah…” Thaddeus whispered, fiddling with his wrist – a nervous tick you tended to do. “Oh, I forgot. Dad, we need to upgrade your suit. The tech is a bit outdated compared to mine. Mom’s suit should get an upgrade too.” The four of you finished up breakfast, you and Eobard putting the food into smaller containers and away in the fridge. Jesse started loading up the dishwasher while Thaddeus whipped down the table.

“I think sleep is best for me,” you yawned at those words, your eyes tearing up and your mind fogging a bit. “Go on without me and tell me about it when I wake up?”

“Yeah, of course.”

You gave your son one last hug then gave one to Jesse, thanking her in whispered words for coming over to have breakfast. The Wells prodigy grinned, feeling a bit of normalcy here in this odd family setting. You headed upstairs, ready to pass out on your bed… but first, some tik toks.

“Jesse,” Eobard spoke up, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses up his nose. He didn’t need those glasses, both of them knew that. The speedster caught her attention before she ran off to her temporary living conditions. “Would you like to join us?” The Reverse Flash knew that he should try to get along with the young Earth-2 speedster, even if her loyalties in the end did lie with Team Flash, she is the elder sister to his children – the one who’s looked out for them all those years into the future. And Eobard will show her the same kindness and respect as he assumes his future self had done for the family to be together. She didn’t seem like a bad kid at all, to be honest. “Three brains can accomplish quite a lot.”

Thaddeus looked expectantly at his elder sister, beaming brightly at her. The speedster saw no ill-intent in Eobard’s eyes, instead an understanding if she were to refuse. I don’t really have anything else to do… It’s best if I kept an eye on him if possible, too…

“Sure, I’m free today so.”

***

“We’ve basically further enhanced your suit to withstand dad’s speed with carbon fiber reinforced tri-polymer material when you both fuse. That way your suit doesn’t flame up – had that happen once when I was wearing my normal clothes. Not a pretty site to see. Jack had to put me out with a bucket or two.” Thaddeus explained, presenting your suit on a mannequin while fiddling with the tablet in hand. You examined the suit, feeling the slightly textured material under your fingertips. You noticed that Eobard had added a maroon trim to the suit. “Dad modified the dual rings for your suit so it should flow out onto your body via microtechnology.” He pointed to the black rings on the mannequin, touching the sensory to let it retract into the rings and back out onto the mannequin.

You nodded, glancing at your son in awe, “Like the microtech in Barry’s suit.”

“Similar, but much more advanced with the three of us working on it. Jesse got the idea to add in extra carbon molecules into the suit as a reserve for you to use,” Thaddeus showed you the tablet, “I highly doubt it, but a situation could arise where you’re not in an area with organic molecules.” You sent Jesse a thankful smile which she returned with her own, rubbing the back of her neck as she stood off to the side.

“Pleasure to have you working with us, Jess.”

“The pleasure is all mine. These two don’t play when it comes to tech.” Jesse nudged her half-brother playfully.

“You stole the carbon fiber material, didn’t you?” You turned to Eobard with a raised eyebrow.

“More or less,” the speedster shrugged at you with pocketed hands. “The tachyon enhancer that Thaddeus brought back with him works with my speed system. Our boys made sure it would flow with Negative Tachyons that way another speedster would slow down significantly if they didn’t have my Negative Speedforce signatures. Meaning Thaddeus and I are the only ones to use it. I did, however, try to modify it to take you into account.”

“And this regards our Fusion Link?” Eobard nodded and you were tempted to ask, “It’s not going to throw me off, is it? Like… I’m not going to find myself in a random ditch, right?”

“Only one way to find out,” he gestured for the three of you to follow him. “We need to test it out on us that way we can start the necessary modifications, if necessary. Jesse and Thaddeus will be tracking our vitals.” You followed his line of sight to the speedster treadmill; he handed you the vital pads in an open palm.

“You want to do this now?”

“Now is as good of a time as any,” Eobard smirked down at you, a twinkle of intrigue in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve seen Barry do this enough times, hm.”

You only shrugged, taking the vitals patches from him. “More times than I’d like to count, although when you reverted the timeline, Barry found himself with a Speed lab rather than just a treadmill. Jesse and Harry were the ones that confirmed it after he had come clean about what happened.”

“I mean, we can always upgrade to that. I’d give the project like… a week if the three of us work on it.” Thaddeus interjected looking at Jesse who seemed to be contemplating a speed lab from scratch. Her and Harry worked on the one on her Earth.

“While that is a wonderful idea, we’ll have to make do with what we have for the moment before drawing up schematics.” Eobard cleared his throat.

“Where are we even going to put it?” You asked with a confused look. “We literally have no room here with all your side labs.” Eobard gave you a wicked look. “No.”

“What?”

“Underground, really? Do you know how long that’s going to take?”

“I’d say a month or two?” You gave Thaddeus an incredulous look as he spoke up. “Three months if we wanna get shnazzy with it.”

“All in due time, Thaddeus,” your speedster fiancé grinned, “Head on over to the monitoring room. We’ll be ready in a bit.”

Thaddeus and Jesse left to the monitor room, setting up the software as you placed the vital pads to your temples and on top of your heart. “He really asked you to kill his mother?”

“I did.”

“…”

“Her death is a fixed time point, without it so many things would have gone in different directions.”

“Law of infinite possibility.”

“Exactly,” Eobard sighed, and you did a couple stretches. “Let me know if things seem off.”

“How will I know that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s your body – you know it more than I do.”

“Well, that’s a first,” you muttered to yourself, Eobard rolled his eyes with a playful expression – he knew exactly what you were referencing. You took a breath in as Eobard did the same, taking both your hands and planting a soft kiss on each. He then rested both hands on your shoulder when he made sure you were ready. Your eyes locked onto his, seeing the tender love in it right before he fused with you. Maroon and black electricity crackled over yourself at the successful Fusion Link. It was funny how the Negative Speedforce changed from Eobard’s fiery red color to a deep maroon accompanied by black streaks.

“I’ll be right here, my love.” Eobard whispered at the back of your mind, letting his Speedforce fully circuit through your system. Taking a breath, you placed the tachyon device on your chest. It clipped to your clothes, pinching your skin underneath slightly. A little throb settled in.

A mild discomfort, but I can work through it.

Stepping onto the treadmill, you glanced at the two on the other side of the glass window. You nodded at them before flicking on the treadmill. You took in a breath as the treadmill started up slowly. With a few walking steps you shut your eyes, reopening them to do the same as Eobard whenever he utilized the Negative Speedforce – your silhouette vibrated at a high frequency as you ran, your eyes a maroon color while maroon and black lightning streaked behind you. Thaddeus eyed your vitals; glucose levels were fine as well as your breathing rate. The discomfort came back, this time reverberating in your chest. You pushed it away – Eobard said nothing, feeling a slight pain in his essence himself. Only when the pain started to sting, escalating to the sharp cuts of knives did he voice his concerns. But you paid him no mind, you kept going. You weren’t at Eobard’s top speed level yet. Need to keep going.

The pain continued to sear through your body. Swallowing thickly, you tried to slow down – to stop, but... One moment you were on the treadmill, running at Eobard’s max velocity – the next moment you were airborne, flying backwards. The world seemed to slow around you, the light in the room blinding you for the split moment. Jesse and Thaddeus screamed simultaneously, jumping from their seats when you had gone airborne, that spilt second had forcibly separated Eobard from yourself – breaking the fusion link as the two of you hit opposite walls with significant force. Eobard groaned at the collision, falling down as you had as well. The two speedsters ran into the room, both by your side to check on you. You hissed at the pain reverberating from your back through your body – the ache that burned like molten lava had invaded your insides. A coughing fit washed over you. Blood hacked out of your system spilling into your closed fist. Your vision hazed and the world spun. Jesse held you tightly while shuffling to Eobard, who was starting to stand up.

“Dad, are you ok?” Thaddeus helped steady his father.

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” Eobard patted his son on the arm before striding over to your crouched form. “Love,” he whispered as you coughed up blood again. I told you to stop… I should have stopped the fusion when I had the chance. A sigh left his lips when Jesse moved to allow him to come closer. The villainous speedster wrapped his arms around you securely, carrying you to the other room’s medical bed. You lulled your head against his solid chest, shutting your eyes to stop the dizziness. Thaddeus and Jesse followed Eobard. He placed you on the pristine linen then directed the two speedsters to start up IV fluids and begin preliminary vital tests on you. Eobard cleaned the blood from your mouth and hands. Luckily, you hadn’t gotten it on your clothes.

“What went wrong?” You asked groggily, your throat felt as if cement had been poured into you.

“I think your body rejected the Negative Tachyons,” Thaddeus held up the tablet, showing your schematics and how on the cellular level your body was rejecting the tachyons. Eobard had suspected so when he first felt the pain.

“So, now what?” Jesse questioned, “If Eobard’s the only one to use the Negative Tachyons, it means that you can’t fuse in battle. Or prior to. If your system is rejecting it, then it’s either putting to much strain on your body or it just won’t accept it because you’re not a speedster.”

You just shrugged from where you’re at, running a hand over through your hair and pushing it out the way. A migraine started forming. You needed some water and darkness.

“There might be something.” Eobard spoke up. “If we visit the Negative Speedforce it should further align the two of us together. Whether we fuse there or enter my Speedforce fused like that shouldn’t matter.” You humored him with a look. “For now, you rest. I’ll see what I can do. Thaddeus, you and I will need to go on a trip tomorrow.”

“I’m always up for a little trip.”

Eobard nodded at his son before the two speedsters left you and him in the makeshift medical room. Your speedster dimmed the lights to minimum level, handing you some water at your request. He sat next to you, holding your hand while you rested.

“Thaddeus?” Jesse pulled him off into the living room before he walked off into his room to pack.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Can you tell me what I’m like? In the future?”

“Yeah!” Jesse saw Thaddeus’ eyes light up, but his smile fell shortly. “Jesse?”

“Yeah?”

“You were the one that told me to run back?”

“What?”

The dark-haired speedster looked at his sister. “You told me to run back when Jack disappeared – right after dad had. We… We were in dad’s lab talking – Jack and I wanted to break mom out. Dad said we were being rash, but… Then it happened. They were gone in less than a minute. I- and Barry was at the portal. You said you’d hold them off while I ran back.”

“Thaddeus…” The burden her brother must carry. First his dad gets executed, mom taken away, and then he watches his other dad and his brother disappear right before his eyes. She felt numb… Jesse pulled her brother into her arms tightly. He in turn did the same – secretly worried that she might go too. He didn’t want to be left alone.

“I’m sorry, I.. I needed to tell you, Jesse. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t… Don’t be sorry. We can fix this – I’m sure, there must be some way without screwing things, right?”

“I don’t know, dad said he’d work on it. I know he will,” Thaddeus rubbed his face hard, if anyone knew how to get things done regarding these matters it was both his fathers. “How about we talk over some lines of clothing? You wanted to know about yourself in the future so…”

“You like to shop?” Jesse crossed her arms.

“Hell yeah, how else am I going to attract the guys and gals? Plus, I dress to impress myself.” Thaddeus waved a card, “Well?”

“Is that your dad’s card?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“My lips are sealed.”

***

Your eyes traced over the family picture once more, the years had worn down on Harry in that time point. Having to raise two more kids on Earth-2 while juggling your release case to an absolute Barry. It hurt your heart - stung, squeezed, crushed. Once again, Harry had been left with small beings to raise on his own. Eobard had been executed for his crimes and you were comatosed, placed under lock and key as per Barry’s wishes. You crinkled your nose in disgust at that notion. How could he have once been my friend? Chewing on your bottom lip, you looked at your young boys in the image then to Eobard. Then again, I was the one who had betrayed his trust by following my heart. But you didn’t regret any second of it. Who once was your friend, had refused to see Eobard as anything else other than a monster. A killer. But the world isn’t just black and white – it’s just easier for Barry to categorize you and Eobard with that mentality while applying gray areas to himself and other situations. One thing was for certain though, future Barry saw Thaddeus as a threat. He was afraid of a child.

“What’s on your mind?” Eobard sat next to you on the bed in your shared bedroom, eyeing the picture in your hand. You picked it up every so often - lost in your thoughts. Thaddeus was passed out in his room and Jesse had returned to her temporary housing in Keystone.

“Hm?”

“You stare off like that when something’s on your mind,” Eobard explained, handing you your glass of wine.

“You know me too well.”

“And I take great pride in that,” He chuckled at you while you took a sip or two. The alcohol burned slightly at the back of your throat. It wasn’t unwelcomed. “I was just thinking. How… How did we make things work? The three of us?” Eobard pressed his lips into a thin line. He could only draw up a few conclusions. You had a point; the three of you together was a significant life transition. He would be sharing you as would Harry. “You and Harry are the most stubborn men I’ve ever met, if anything I think all you would do would butt heads.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong, but…”

“But?”

“Maybe, those two bundles were the reason we came together. That or… Harry and I put our differences aside for you.” Eobard took a swig of his bourbon. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You doubt your ability and influence over us.”

“What does that mean?”

“When I was in Nash’s mind, all Harry and the other two wanted was for you to be safe. They worried that I’d come back to hurt you – obviously that was false. He, himself, had confronted me – threatened me regarding you. I’m saying it’s possible that your ability to love the both of us had us come together and reconcile. Thaddeus, by how he spoke of us in the future, made it sound like Harry and I had become close brothers. It’s odd in a way.”

“Harry didn’t say anything to me – but then again, he did always have trouble articulating his feelings.”

“Well, there you go. I’m sure we can make things work out again.”

“Won’t be easy, knowing you two.”

“I never said I wouldn’t give Harry a hard time.”

You rolled your eyes at his wolfish grin as he pecked your lips. “There’s another thing.”

“Hm…”

“Thaddeus and Jack. I… the trauma the’ve been subjected to, because of Barry and this stupid Speedster Association, if I might add.” Your fingers ran over the lining of the cup. “Have you noticed the signs?”

“The signs?”

“I think Thaddeus has anxiety, Eo. Just like me. Zoning out completely at times, fiddling with his hands, the slight panic in his eyes when one of us are absent to his knowledge. I know everyone shows different forms of anxiety – we’re all different human beings. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jack was the same, but…”

A lump formed in your throat. The speedster set his alcohol down on the side table, taking your glass and doing the same. The villain gently held your hands, running his thumbs over your knuckles Eobard’s icy blue eyes pulled you in like a riptide, “We’ll get him back, I’ll do what I can. For the both of them”

“How? Have you worked out something?”

“I… have a theoretical idea.”

“And that is..?”

“There’s a chance that we can bring Harry back, which will bring Jackson back down the line. We need Harrison’s cooperation.” Your heart stopped in your chest at his words. “If we extract some of his Timeless essence that’s been given to him, presumably by The Monitor. We should be able to bring back Harry – I can develop the technology with Jesse since she’s from Earth-2. She vibrates at a higher frequency so we can match hers to the one we find. Also, she’s got a stronger pull to him so she can call out to him from wherever he’s residing in eternity. I’m still trying to work out all the possible details before telling Jesse and Thaddeus.”

“What about HR? And Nash and Sherloque?”

“I… I can only give my conjecture, but this technique could have complications arise.”

“Meaning death?”

“Not exactly, but hypothetically the extraction could cause a strain on Harrison’s body the more Wells we bring back.”

“…” You pursed your lips.

“Harry’s our main shot.”

Yes, but… I can’t just leave HR and Sherloque and Nash… They’re all Thaddeus and Jack’s uncles. The only other family members left for the boys and Jesse.

Your eyes left his, looking down to your lap. Eobard saw the hesitation. “You don’t want to see him, do you?”

“Your assumption couldn’t be far from the truth.” You sighed to yourself. “Can you blame me? I couldn’t just forgive him from running away. Is this the only way?”

“It’s the only thing I could come up with.”

You swallowed the bile down your throat. “I guess we’re giving the good ol’ doctor a visit, huh.”

***

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thawne. Your mother has suffered a ruptured aortic aneurysm during her imprisonment.” Thaddeus froze Gideon’s news. It had woken him up in the middle of the night. 2 am, to be precise. He couldn’t believe his ears, the tears building up in his eyes. His heart shattered as his insides shook. A ringing sounded in his ears. Water fell from his eyes, hitting his forearm.

“What?” His voice cracked at the news; the disbelief evident in his tone.

“Your mother is dead.”

#harrison wells x reader #harrison wells #eobard thawne x reader #eobard x reader #eobard thawne #harribard eowells x reader #harribard x reader #harribard eowells #eowells x reader #eowells #harry wells x reader #harry wells #Jesse Quick #jesse wells #thaddeus thawne #kinetic #the flash cw #the flash fanfiction #harrison wells fanfiction

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elentiyawhitethorn · 3 years

Text

The Bet | Extra POV #1

Day 0 (Rhys)

AN: Rhys and Feyre’s introduction, as requested by @perseusannabeth

Masterlist//Moodboard//Timeline//1000 words

Rhys had been having a shitty day.

It had started in the early hours of the morning, when he had awoken from a dream of Amarantha… getting her way. That in itself was enough to have Rhys struggling to conceal his misery for the rest of the day.

Then there had been work today. The budget on his flying sessions had been cut, and one of his students had accidentally spilled water all over some paperwork he needed to finish up.

After all that, Rhys had lost his keys. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon sitting on the front steps of the townhouse waiting for Azriel or Cassian to return and let him in, whichever arrived first.

But the guys had made him go to Mor’s cafe, and as much as he wanted to spend the remainder of the day moping, being around his cousin always cheered him up. She was supposed to get there not too long after them and start her shift.

So that’s how Rhys ended up munching on a spicy rancho bravo and discussing baseball teams.

Just then, Azriel glanced over and Rhys and Cassian followed suit. Mor, Amren… and another woman were making their way over to the table.

The woman was beautiful, with long brown hair and a shy smile. But Rhys couldn’t help but notice as the trio neared the table that she looked underweight, her cheeks hollowed and her shirt too loose on her. There were dark circles under her eyes, eyes that seemed to shift anxiously as she walked, as if searching for an unknown threat. There was also a sort of pain to her features that the soft smile on her lips couldn’t quite disguise.

Rhys pushed aside to concern that immediately welled up at her slightly haggard appearance and tossed a smirk her way. Mor stopped as they reached the men’s table and said, “Everybody, this is Feyre. Feyre, this is Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand, my cousin. I should head behind the counter now. Have fun.” Mor hugged the woman, Feyre, briefly, as if she was loathe to part with her. Then she sauntered over to the back.

“Hello.” Feyre looked a bit nervous, possibly overwhelmed by being left alone with them. But she seemed to steel herself and put on a brave smile, carefully sliding into a seat opposite the guys. Amren joined her.

Rhys watched as Feyre started to look at each one individually. Her gaze first went to Cassian, who was directly across from Feyre and in between Rhys and Azriel.

“Hi, Feyre. We’ve heard a lot about you,” Cassian said with a grin that even Feyre probably knew meant trouble. Yet, she instantly returned the expression. Perhaps there was a bit more fight in her than Rhys’ initial observations were giving her.

And indeed, they had heard about Feyre. Mor chattered about her constantly. Her best friend from collage, Feyre Archeron. Painter extraordinaire, snarky and kind. She was also a mean bitch and a sucky cook, apparently, but Mor said that about a lot of people.

Thinking back on it, Mor had recently mentioned that Feyre was moving to New York, and she would be rooming with Mor, but Rhys had been a bit too busy wallowing in self-pity to remember very clearly. He couldn’t at all recall why she was moving here. Rhys knew he needed to do better by his cousin, his friends as well.

“Don’t make her nervous, Cass,” Azriel said, cutting Rhys out of his reverie. “It’s nice to meet you, Feyre.” Rhys could tell Feyre was taking a liking to the quiet man. He was unsurprised.

He was surprised by the fact that she seemed to take reassurance in Amren’s company, however; she glanced at the petite woman nervously before responding.

“Yes, it is,” replied Feyre. She bit her lip almost unconsciously, seeming to disapprove of her response. Rhys couldn’t help but track the movement of her teeth of her lip for a moment, but he made sure to glance back up when she finally turned to him.

“Hi, Rhysand,” she said, and Rhys supposed Mor had mentioned him before.

He smirked at her. “Everybody calls me Rhys, darling.”

Feyre scowled, and Rhys decided then and there that he liked her already. “My name is Feyre, not darling.” The reply was even better than the glare. Rhys always said shit like that to women, testing the waters. Finding out if they enjoyed being shamelessly flirted with. Feyre was one of the first women not to bend over backward trying to get in his pants after it, and he decided she wasn’t someone he would be avoiding from here on out.

Rhys’ smirk widened, and he decided “darling” was going to be his new nickname for her. Her frown deepened as if she could read his mind, and it took all Rhys had in him not to lean over the cafe table and kiss her. She’d probably just smack him, anyway.

Cassian let out a chuckle. “I like her already,” he said, and Rhys shot him a glare. Not that he would ever tell him the glare was for interrupting their staring contest.

Feyre looked at him as well and smiled, the genuineness of the gesture melting something inside of Rhys. Suddenly he wished he had never smirked, never called her “darling.” Not if it meant he didn’t get to be on the receiving end of a smile like that.

He didn’t know where the thought was coming from. After all, he hadn’t even been talking to her for five minutes. But there was just something about her that set him on fire, that brought him to life. He hadn’t felt like this in a long while, hadn’t truly desired anyone.

One day, Rhys vowed, he would get her to smile at him. Not a smirk or even a playful grin. But a happy, carefree smile, the kind Cassian was receiving only a hint of right now. One day.

———

Tag List:

@a-court-of-milkandhoney

@aelin-bitch-queen

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@scatterbrainedgirl

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thebonecarver

@whythefuckdoiexist

@yesdreamblog

#feysand #acotar #the bet #my writing

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dewitty1 · 3 years

Link

(Moodboard by @thusspoketrish)

Lemon Colour, Honey Glow

trishjames @thusspoketrish

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Zacharias Smith, Original Characters Additional Tags: Post-War, Some Content Left Untagged Because of Spoilers!, pub nights, Beer Gardens, Nightclub, Cigarettes, Spliffs, alcohol consumption, Very Brief Discussion on Alcoholism, Strong Friendships, The Silver Trio - Freeform, Humor, Paris - Freeform, Diagon Alley, Falling In Love, Fluff, Romance, Lovesickness, Enemies to Lovers, Pining, Desire, Cuddling, Notting Hill, Portobello Road Market, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Secrets, Secret Relationship, Possessive Harry Potter, Harry Reads Pablo Neruda, Love Poems, Original Character - Freeform, POV Draco Malfoy, Unreliable Narrator, Sad Draco Malfoy, Mental Health Issues, Anxiety Disorder, Intrusive Thoughts, Insecurity, Vulnerability, Forgiveness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, flangst, Bullying, Fist Fights, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence, Blood, None of the violence/bullying is between H/D, Miscommunication, Trust Issues, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, First Time, romantic sex, Very Enthusiastic Consensual Sex, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary:

Over a series of unfortunate pub nights at the Leaky Cauldron, Draco Malfoy falls in love. A story about finding strength and forgiveness in unlikely places.

Excerpt:

It’s been so hard trying to control his constant worrying and unrelenting intrusive thoughts since moving back to Britain. All the rage and humiliation he has to face keeps his anxiety feeling like the weight of an extra body attached to his back at all times, it’s why Draco would rather stroll a Muggle market than visit Diagon Alley alone. But Draco wants this. He wants Potter, as crazy and as exhilarating as it sounds. Maybe having Potter in secret would ease some of the pressure that would come with dating him. Draco could work on his fears in private instead of out in the open, where the public will try to shame him and break them apart before they’ve even begun to explore what this could be between them.

“Draco?” Potter’s voice is soft, gently drawing Draco’s attention from the terrible tumble of thoughts in his head. “Are you okay?”

“Okay,” Draco says, looking back up at Potter.

Potter grins. “Yeah?”

“Yes. I’ll date you,” Draco says, the words sounding strange to his ears, but a good strange, he thinks.

“Brilliant!” Potter says, his eyes dancing. “Just a moment, my vision-corrector charm is fading.” He lets go of Draco’s hand and heads down the hallway.

Draco sits back on the sofa, crossing his legs and looking around for his flat white. It dawns on him that he left it in the middle of the road when he helped Potter up. Well, this has been an interesting morning. Lost a coffee, gained a boyfriend.

Potter. His boyfriend.

The flutters go rampant. Draco touches his stomach, for once a smile creeps across his face at the sensation.

Potter comes back into the room, a forest green jumper with a gold H on the front and his round glasses on. When Potter sits back down, Draco turns his body to face him.

“May I kiss you, Potter?” Draco asks, feeling bold.

Potter sits up straighter. “Yeah! Yes, of course,” he says eagerly, scooting closer to Draco on the sofa. “If you call me Harry,” he adds.

Draco smirks, and reaches out to gently trace the edge of the longest bit of Potter’s—Harry’s—lightning scar across his cheek, his index finger dragging across his light stubble before he slides it over his bottom lip. “Okay, Harry,” Draco whispers. Harry’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening. And that’s it for Draco, that’s all the convincing he needs to know that Harry will never be Potter to him again.

Draco leans in at the same time as Harry, who moves too quickly, his glasses bumping against Draco’s nose.

“Ow,” Harry says, reeling back and adjusting his glasses.

“Sorry!” Draco says, his hands coming up.

Harry laughs. “It was my fault. The perils of being legally blind. Let’s try this again, yeah?”

“Okay,” Draco says, nodding and moving close. Harry’s warm palm cups Draco’s chin, tilting his head slightly before leaning in, much slower this time, and presses his lips against Draco’s.

Draco’s eyes fall shut, a painfully sweet eruption of flutters dancing in his belly as Harry reaches out to curl his fingers around Draco’s hand as they kiss. When they pull away for air, Harry’s breath is warm and sweet against Draco’s face, and Draco leans in again, feeling bolder as he opens his mouth under Harry’s and slides the tip of his tongue across Harry’s bottom lip, asking for permission. Harry responds, his mouth sliding open and his tongue curiously licking into Draco’s mouth, his lips twitching up into a smile as their tongues caress.

Draco has never tasted anything so sweet.

Harry’s excitable magic wraps around Draco like a warm blanket, cocooning him as the kiss deepens. Draco’s free hand finds its way to the nape of Harry’s neck, his fingers twisting around the long strands as a low moan escapes the back of his throat, the kiss growing hungrier, Harry now pressing him into the sofa. Draco doesn’t care that small, shameless moans have escaped the back of his throat as they kiss, his chest heaving as he tries to press their bodies together, as close as physically possible. He’s just starting to grow hard when Harry’s wards ring for what sounds like someone at the Floo.

“I’m - ignore,” Harry says incoherently against his mouth, before lifting one leg over Draco to straddle him. Draco gasps as Harry attacks his mouth again, grinding down onto his lap. Draco frees both his hands to grab Harry’s arse through the tight spandex. He squeezes.

“Yes, oh Merlin, you’re perfect,” Draco whines against Harry’s mouth, rutting up against him as Harry sinfully rolls his hips. Draco closes his eyes, relishing the heat of Harry’s mouth and body.

#Lemon colour Honey Glow #Trishjames #Drarry #Drarry Fic rec #fic rec #Drarry Fanfiction #Hp Fanfiction #Hp #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Drarry Squad #hp fic rec #I know what I said about doing older fic recs but this is an exception because my girl needs some love okay?#Carey's Bookmark fic recs #Carey's Personal Bookmarks #Hope this is okay - that i did this

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pixiegrl · 3 years

Text

Hi Everyone!

It’s the 1 year anniversary of Lingerie 5sos. Since the original part 1 and 2 came out on Sept 20 and 21st of 2020, I’m counting this as a one year anniversary post for both fics:

I set boundaries for myself (it’s time to cross the line) and Your kaleidoscope eyes so pretty, baby

When I originally created these two pieces, it was only meant to be a trio of fics. These two parts and the wedding. However, a conversation with multiple people about gender and self expression and desires for the series have now lead it to the 39 part series it now is.

I want to take this moment to give a shout out to @bourgeoix and @tigerteeff for their original encouragement of these two pieces and for me exploring the concept itself. I’ve grown to love this version of Luke and Ashton and their love and without these two people I wouldn’t have created the fics or posted them at all. I love you both, thank you

To @escapesos, Peyton, your original message about how this version of Luke, in their lingerie and how it feels right like this, broad shoulders in lace and happy and content and the comfort and love in this fic, helped you. Your constant love of this series, of this Lashton, of me and my writing and myself, will never fall to make me cry. Thank you, I love you.

To @werewolfashton, your love for this series never fails to make me cry. The amount of love you give these boys, the moodboards (found here and here), all the prompts I promise to get it, makes me so happy. I’m glad these boys are your comfort boys too and I’m glad to have you as my friend. Thank you, I love you

To @valiantnerdtm, for loving non-binary feminine Luke and their partner Ashton, for loving this series and all the fuzzy parts of it, for listening to me rant about their series and gender expression for weeks and weeks and weeks on end. Thank you for being my friend and for giving me the gift of you and your love, I love you.

And to everyone who has read this series in the last year, thank you. Without the love and support, this series wouldn’t have 39 parts. It wouldn’t have the story it does. So thank you, for loving Luke and Ashton and me. I appreciate it.

Under the cut is some thoughts I have about this Luke, the original intent of this series and the gender expression and presentation of the fic. I’ve been having thoughts about it over the last few weeks and I wanted to get them out and the anniversary seemed appropriate.

So, before this gets any longer I’m going to put the rest of this rant under the cut. Recently, I’ve been thinking a lot about this series. I’ve been open about how I’ve struggled recently with this series. I got my head twisted around about it, and I guess with it’s anniversary now here, I wanted to talk about 2 parts of the series that I worry get lost in translation that have always bothered me.

One of these things was about the original intent of this series. One of the things with this series is the idea that Luke wearing lingerie is NSFW. Yes, parts of the series are smut pieces and NSFW. But, in my opinion as the writer of this writes, Luke wearing the pieces or “traditional feminine clothing” isn’t NSFW. Luke putting on a bra and panties was and is about self acceptance and self expression. It’s about them being comfortable in their body. Yes, Michael wears lingerie and dresses and such to be hot and sexy. Yes, Luke does wear lingerie and dresses because they want to look pretty and sexy and have Ashton kiss them. But, at its core, Luke wearing lingerie pieces in the original two pieces was not NSFW. It was not smut. It was about Luke putting on something more feminine and loving the way it made them look. It helped Luke to feel wonderful and special. It helped Luke be comfortable with themselves. And I wanted to get that off my chest.

The other thing about this series is that recently, people have thrown around the term about how Lingerie Luke is fetishized or feminized. The definition of a fetish is “a form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, item of clothing, part of the body”. The definition of feminization is “sexual or lifestyle practice where a person assumes a female role” or typically, when a man is forced into wearing feminine clothing or is treated in a derogatory manner that’s related to that. Both words are being thrown around in a degrading manner.

Luke is NOT either of these words. He is feminine. Luke is a non-binary person, who uses he/they pronouns and presents themselves in a more feminine manner. Luke wears their dresses and lingerie because, as stated, it’s for a body image, body comfort, identity presentation. Luke wears them because they make him happy. Yes, Ashton finds Luke attractive in these outfits because that’s his spouse. But this Luke is not a fetish for wearing dresses and lingerie. They are feminine, not feminized. This Luke is a person with preferences.

Anyway, I felt that in order for the series to go forward, I needed to get this off my chest. It’s at 39 parts. I want the series to continue. And I needed to get my head on straight for that to happen.

#my writing #lingerie luke series #lingerie sos #this rant is for exactly 4 people who will read it #just wanted to yell about gender and presentation in the fic

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joe-mazzello-archive · 3 years

Text

Two Lost Souls

A Eugene Sledge x Fem!Reader fic

Rating: PG

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: references to the war/violence (duh), references to ptsd, panic attack/nightmare, snafu being his crass self, so much awkward flirting, a teeny tiny bit of angst

A/N: okay story time -- one day a few months ago i rewatched the last episode of the pacific and then took a nap and proceeded to have a lovely dream about cuddling with eugene in a train booth and running my fingers through his hair sooooo here we are. i’m extremely nervous to post this as it was a labor of love and it’s almost my first full period piece. i hope you enjoy! also bonus points if you know what book the reader is reading.

moodboard by @brianmays-hair

The nightmares started while Eugene was still in Peleliu. Flashes of blood and corpses and metal and dirt. Screaming and explosions, the sound of bodies hitting the ground. But then he’d wake up to the same visuals, the same sounds. His reality was one long nightmare. There was no escape, no end in sight.

Now Eugene was afraid this was all a pleasant dream. No screaming, no blood. From the moment he set foot back on the mainland, he was in constant fear that he’d wake up and be back there. Especially when the nightmares felt so real. Sometimes he didn’t know what was his true reality.

It had taken a while to get the dirt out from under his fingernails, to get the stench out of his hair, but eventually he did feel clean again.

You can’t shower away the memories. Those linger much longer.

Distractions helped. He read, he smoked. He chatted with his fellow marines. He enjoyed the good food he was given, tried to find comfort in the bed he got to sleep in. He thought about Mobile and his parents and Sid and how he’d be home to them soon. He was hyper-focused on everything and anything, knowing that if he let his mind wander, it’d wander right back there.

It’s how he found himself people-watching at the bustling San Diego train station. The boys were prattling next to him about some girl Snafu had gone fishing for, but Eugene was more engrossed in the crowd around them. Sure there were tons of other marines around, but they were mixed in with parents wrangling their children, businessmen with their briefcases, lovers saying their goodbyes.

A flash of dark red caught Eugene’s eye. A woman, probably around Eugene’s age, stood alone on the platform, clad in a burgundy blazer and matching skirt with a brown trunk resting at her feet. Whereas most of the platform was hectic and frazzled, she stood firm and patient, a calmness about her. She seemed unperturbed by the world around her, lost in her own thoughts, her eyes cast downward as she let out a sigh.

She was beautiful.

Not in the way that the nurses back on the island greeted soldiers with their red-lipped smiles and white uniforms. Not in the way that the girls had primped for the Murphy High prom, practically fighting to dance with Sid while not paying Eugene any mind -- which seemed a lifetime ago now. No, this girl was beautiful in a way that Eugene couldn’t put his finger on. She was beautiful in a way that stopped him in his tracks like no girl ever had before.

The whistle of the train finally arriving at the station and a hand on his shoulder pulled Eugene out of his trance.

“Last leg, Sledge,” Burgie commented with a nod towards the train. Eugene replied with a half-smile before following the corporal, Snafu already ahead of them. Sneaking one last quick glance in the direction of where he last saw the beautiful woman, Eugene was greeted with a sea of people - no flash of burgundy in sight. With a sigh, adjusted the duffle on his shoulder and boarded the train, ready to get home.

You weren’t a big fan of long train rides. The rumbling of the cars, the confined spaces, the stale air, the bad food -- it was miserable. Last time you’d boarded a train, it had been under bittersweet circumstances - excitement mixed with worry. But three years had passed since you had arrived in San Diego, and after finding yourself jobless with no place to stay, your time in the port town had come to an end.

So you booked your ticket back home, with nothing but your childhood room and your disillusioned parents waiting for you. What a way to make an already miserable form of travel even more miserable.

You found your only solace was in reading. Luckily you had grabbed a newspaper from the stand at the station -- and snatched a book from your sister’s home before you left. You planned on losing yourself in words while the American countryside passed by your window. You had quite the trek ahead of you.

You sat at a table in the dining car, a bottle of barely-sipped cola accompanying the plate of lunch that had been hardly touched. You held the newspaper in one hand as you used your fork to idly push around your roasted potatoes.

“Is your meal alright, miss?” sounded the voice of a slender waiter above you. With a deep sigh, you lowered your paper and plastered a polite smile, meeting the young staff member’s stare.

“It’s just fine, thank you,” you replied, your voice cheery despite your true demeanor. The gentleman nodded before leaving you be, stepping to the next table. As you watched him leave, your eyes drifted across the aisle of the car. A lone marine sat at the table catty-corner to yours, a private first class by the looks of his uniform. His auburn hair was neatly coiffed and a striking nose divided his face. His eyes were downcast, staring out the window, an almost solemn look to him. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he was handsome - in a genteel boyish way.

But he was no boy. Many of the servicemen you had encountered in the past few years maybe were boys before they left. But being sent overseas to be met with nothing but violence and death -- those boys grew up quickly. This marine was no different. You could see it in the distant look in his eyes. He had seen terrors and lived to tell the tale.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a drawling southern accent behind you.

“Hiya,” the voice greeted. You glanced over your shoulder to find another marine trailing behind a woman. The woman turned at the greeting. “I’m Merriel Shelton. How about I take you to the back and you can show me your caboose?”

You spun back forward, eyes wide and your hand shooting up to cover your mouth, hiding your smirk. And when a resounding slap echoed behind you, a short giggle escaped your lips. The woman stomped down the aisle in a tiff, while the extremely forward marine and his buddy took their seats, joining the lonely marine you had been admiring.

You shook your head at the antics, turning your attention back to your paper. The boys’ voices across the aisle carried over to your side, but you tried to tune them out, not wanting to unintentionally eavesdrop. You urged yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your ears betrayed you. After reading the same sentence over four times, not digesting a single word, your gaze drifted back over to your marine, who had taken up buttering the biscuit that had been sitting on his plate. His posture and manner had shifted, he seemed more relaxed in the presence of his fellow soldiers. His eyes were soft and friendly, and the ghost of a smile had taken up residence on his face.

“Guess I’m gonna find out soon enough whether I’m getting married or not,” the colonel who sat across from your marine declared wistfully before turning his attention to your marine. “What about you, Sledgehammer?”

You grinned at what you assumed was a nickname. How a seemingly mild-mannered fellow like your marine could have gotten the moniker of “Sledgehammer” was beyond you. Your eyes drifted back to the man, interested in his answer. He seemed to ponder the question for a moment, a flash of uncertainty briefly crossing his face as he picked at his biscuit.

“I’m just hoping this Florence girl comes to her senses,” he finally cracked with a smirk. So he was clever, too. You found that you couldn’t help but smile through the exchange, your gaze dropping back to your lap.

“Got a job lined up in Mobile?” An Alabama boy. That was an interesting development.

“Nah,” he revealed, his apparent uncertainty no longer bothering him. “No job, no girl…no plans.”

You and the lone marine had more in common than you had originally thought.

“How long you think that’s gonna last?” the flirtatious marine from before inquired, relaxing back in his seat. But the laughter of a pair of businessmen passing by your table concealed the marine’s answer. You shot a glare towards the rowdy gentlemen’s backs. How dare they prevent you from snooping on some strangers’ conversation!

Your gaze fell back to the trio of boys, and you couldn’t help but admire the redhead’s smile. The way his eyes lit up with warmth at his friends’ jokes, the way the dimple between his brows appeared and disappeared -- he was beautiful.

You were lost in your musings when for a brief moment, your marine’s eyes suddenly locked on to yours.

His smile fell and a look you couldn’t identify -- confusion? recognition? irritation? -- flashed across the features of his handsome face before you broke the spell and looked back down at your paper. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you stared down at the black ink on the page. How embarrassing. You had been boldly staring at the man for an inappropriate amount of time -- listening to his conversation, no less -- and now you had been caught.

You couldn’t help but think about the marine’s reaction. In the fleeting moment that he held your gaze, it was almost as if he’d seen a ghost. You didn’t want him to think you were some creep or some crazy woman.

You lifted your eyes slightly, glancing across the aisle. Your marine’s cheeks were pink as he gazed back at you softly - but only for a moment before his eyes quickly fell back down to the plate in front of him.

And that became the game you played. As the train chugged through the desert - what you assumed was Arizona - you and your marine took turns stealing glances at each other. First you, then he’d notice and you’d look away. Then he’d stare and you’d catch him. Each time, a rosy color would come to his cheeks and a hint of a smile would appear. Your own shyness began to fade with each time you’d catch him, even throwing him a wink at one point.

After another hour or so, your marine’s friends elected to head back to their coach seats. You assumed your game was over, and you tried to not let yourself be too disappointed. You closed your paper, having finally read every word -- though whether you absorbed any of it was up for debate. You gathered your things, pondering your next move. Maybe you’d wander to the observation car - it tended to be quieter as the sun went down. You slung your messenger bag over your shoulder and were about to step into the aisle when you were met with the sight of your marine, alone once again, staring out the window. Just like the first time you noticed him.

You took a deep breath, channeled your sister’s boldness and took a seat at the marine’s table.

It was her. The mystery woman. The beautiful girl clad in burgundy from the train platform was sitting across from Eugene.

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts as he gaped at her. He had spent the last hour stealing glances at her across the aisle, unsure if she was real or simply a vision. Now there she was, close enough for Eugene to reach out and touch her, gazing at him with soft eyes and a friendly smile.

“Hi,” she spoke after a few moments, breaking the silence and Eugene’s daze.

“Hi,” Eugene practically whispered, unable to find his voice. He cleared his throat before starting again. “I do apologize for staring, miss. You know, before.”

The young woman let out a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, let’s not pretend you were the sole offender, private. I believe I was staring at you first.” Oh how wrong she was. But Eugene would keep that correction to himself.

She offered her name and her hand across the table for a shake, and Eugene almost immediately felt at ease in her presence. She certainly was not like the girls back in Mobile.

“I’m Eugene,” he offered in return, trying to ignore how soft her hand felt in his. She smirked as she let him go.

“So where does ‘Sledgehammer’ come from then?” she questioned with a quirked brow, and Eugene flushed at his nickname falling from her gentle lips.

“My last name. Sledge,” he explained. “Private First Class Eugene Bondurant Sledge, at your service, miss.” His explanation earned a bright smile from the girl, and Eugene decided right then and there that he’d do anything he could to make her smile again.

“Well, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Sledge,” she said with a nod.

“I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, miss.”

The woman playfully narrowed her eyes at Eugene, as if she were examining him.

“Was all that true? Before?” she asked before pursing her lips.

“Was what true?”

“No job. No girl. No plans,” she recited back to him, adding a twang to her normal voice. Eugene could feel the heat in his cheeks once again. He let out a nervous chuckle and scratched at the back of his neck.

“‘Fraid so, miss,” he responded, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Hope you don’t think less of me.” The woman shook her head as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Of course not,” she assured him. “I just don’t believe you.” She shrugged and cocked an eyebrow challengingly. Eugene was thrown off by her answer.

“You don’t believe me?” he inquired with a furrowed brow. She casually shrugged once again, as if she was making perfect sense.

“No way you can be this handsome and charming and not have a girl waiting for you back home.”

If the young woman was on a mission to make Eugene blush at all costs, she was extremely successful. Eugene shakily laughed as he stared down at his lap, unable to meet her gaze after that.

“My apologies, Mr. Sledge,” she spoke again, and Eugene let himself glance back up to see her timidly looking away this time. “That was awfully forward of me.”

Eugene was so thrown by his woman in burgundy. The prettiest dame he’d ever laid eyes on had gone out of her way to talk to him. Ask him questions. Compliment him. Yet he could see that she was just as nervous as he was. It was disarming in a way.

“No apology necessary, miss,” Eugene affirmed, offering a friendly smile when she met his gaze once again. “I’m just not used to getting attention from a gal as beautiful as you.”

A new game began. Eugene and his woman in burgundy took turns trying to make the other bashful, his confidence rising with every clever quip and retort to her own flirtations.

Eugene wouldn’t realize until much later that he hadn’t thought once about the war the entire evening.

“I feel like I should ask,” Eugene spoke up, rousing you from your thoughts. The two of you had relocated from the dining car to the observation car. You had been correct: it was virtually empty at this time of night, and the two of you were enjoying the peace. “Where are you off to?” You gave him a lopsided smile.

“Home,” you replied. “Tallahassee, Florida. Lived there my whole life until a few years ago.”

“Florida, huh? Why we’re practically neighbors,” Eugene commented with a grin. “So how did you end up in San Diego?”

“Few years back, my older sister married some businessman from California. Didn’t even get a chance to meet the man myself before he was drafted and shipped off to Europe.”

Eugene listened intently as you told your story. You knew he understood the horrors of war more than anyone else you’d ever spoken to.

“She demanded I come out to San Diego to stay with her,” you explained. “She’s always had terrible nerves and couldn’t bear to be alone in the house. So I took the train out, got a job at a bond office, and spent my free time keeping my sister away from the radio.” You let out a sigh and let your eyes fall to your lap before going on. “By the end, we assumed he’d be coming home safe and sound. They told us he was shot two days before the ceasefire was called.”

“To say my sister was distraught would be quite the understatement. After locking herself in her room for a week followed by five months of her ignoring my existence entirely, she told me I had until the end of the week to leave. Perfect timing really, since the bond office had terminated me that morning. No more war meant no more war bonds.” You shrugged as you recalled your story, as if it wasn’t such a fresh wound. You chanced a peek at Eugene, expecting a look of pity. But instead you were met with his warm hazel eyes, expressing nothing but understanding.

“So now here I am. Headed home. No job. No man. No plans,” you finished with a wink. Eugene smiled at your quip before turning to gaze out into the darkness.

“It seems like we both deserve to just do nothing for a while,” he suggested. Doing nothing. You quite liked the sound of that.

“Inspired idea, private.”

Eugene’s warm eyes locked on to yours once again, and you swore everything stopped and fell away. Nothing mattered except the marine in front of you, his bright smile, the lock of auburn hair that had fallen out of place. He was beautiful and clever and sweet, and though you knew he was haunted by his past, you’d never hold that against him. Gosh, you knew it was ridiculous, seeing as though you’d only met the man a few hours ago. But there was a part of you that wanted to pull him into your arms and never let go. Be there to make him laugh and make sure he knew he was safe. Listen to his stories and share yours in return. You wanted to do nothing for a while, like Eugene had said, but do that nothing with him next to you.

As you continued to gaze at the handsome man before you, you absent-mindedly tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. And you swore that for a brief moment, Eugene’s eyes fell to your mouth.

You practically lept to your feet, letting out a shaky breath before speaking.

“Well, I’m going to get some shut-eye,” you announced as you collected your things. “I suggest you do the same, private. Or at the very least you should spend some time with your friends before you have to see them off tomorrow.” Eugene, seemingly confused by the suddenness of your exit, nodded a few times before finding his voice.

“Right,” he said, “Well, goodnight.”

You cringed at what sounded like disappointment in his voice. You hadn’t meant to offend him - you just got startled is all.

You offered him a warm smile. “Goodnight, Eugene.”

You spun on your heels and headed for the doorway before you could change your mind and kiss him the way you really wanted to.

Eugene didn’t get much sleep that night, but that was nothing new. What changed is what kept him up. Thoughts of his burgundy girl swam through his head most of the night. He replayed every conversation they’d had, half of the time berating himself for what he said and the other half thinking about what he wished he’d said instead.

Snafu made sure to point out the bags under Eugene’s eyes that morning at breakfast.

But Eugene didn’t pay him any mind. He was too busy keeping an eye out for the woman, hoping he could flag her down to at least wish her a good morning.

By the late afternoon, there was no sign of the woman, and Eugene, Snafu, and Burgie had moved back to a booth in the coach car. Burgie was antsy, knowing they were not far out from his hometown of Jewett. He was recalling his excitement to see his little brother again when Snafu interrupted him, tapping his hand on Burgie’s chest.

“Would you look at her,” Snafu drawled out. Eugene glanced over his shoulder to where Snafu was indicating, only to be met with the sight of the very woman who had been on his mind all day, casually walking down the aisle towards him. She had traded out her burgundy ensemble for a cream colored blouse and a navy skirt. Eugene perked up, sitting up straight in hopes of getting her attention. But Snafu was faster, rising to his feet and cutting her off. She was surprised for a moment, but a look of recognition flashed across her face.

“Afternoon, miss,” Snafu greeted as the woman eyed him warily. Then her eyes flitted over to Eugene and a hint of a smile appeared. Then she looked back at Snafu.

“Something I can do for you, soldier?” she asked, arching an eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest.

“Ohh, there’s a lot you can do for me, girlie,” Snafu countered. “Hows about we head somewhere private and I’ll show you?”

Something in Eugene’s chest tightened at Snafu’s words. Sure, he had watched Snafu use line after line on any girl in his vicinity since they boarded the train. Even laughed at the man’s antics at times. But something was different about him putting the moves on his girl--or at least his friend. Acquaintance? Eugene didn’t know what the two of them were.

“Tempting,” she responded, rousing Eugene from his thoughts. “But I think I’m gonna sit and enjoy my book instead. Thank you for the offer, private.”

Snafu seemed confused -- Eugene assumed he was used to either getting the girl or getting a slap. He probably wasn’t used to getting no reaction at all. Snafu plopped back down in his seat, his brows furrowed, and Eugene chanced a look at the woman. She shot him a wink before settling in the booth directly across the aisle from the group of men and pulled out a book.

Eugene fidgeted in his seat -- his instinct was to go join her. But he respected her wishes. Maybe he’d ask her to dinner later.

It wasn’t long after you had settled into your booth that you watched Eugene say goodbye to his sergeant.

The mutual respect was evident, and the goodbye was definitely bittersweet. The normally chatty boys fell silent after he left, and Eugene’s far away look returned once again.

Eugene’s flirtatious friend then announced he was headed to the dining car to get a drink, and Eugene simply nodded, his gaze never leaving the window.

You waited until the audacious marine was clear out of the car before you shifted across the aisle to grab his empty seat. Eugene perked up immediately, sitting up and grinning.

“Afternoon, miss,” he greeted with a nod. “Sorry about Snafu before. I think he’s determined to pester every woman on this train before he gets off.”

“Oh, no apologies necessary,” you assured him with a chuckle. “I found it quite funny.”

Eugene’s eyes sparkled as he looked at you. Gosh, you’d almost forgotten how beautiful he was in the sunlight. Those hazel eyes you could just get lost in. You noticed the littlest bit of stubble had formed across his upper lip and around his jaw since last night.

Then you realized you were staring again and you quickly dropped your eyes to your lap out of habit.

“How’s your book?” Eugene spoke up, easing the awkwardness. You appreciated the gesture.

“It’s good so far,” you explained, patting the cover. “Not the most uplifting thing to read on the train, but I’m hoping it ends on a happy note.”

“What’s it about?”

You sighed as you stared at the book in your hands. “It’s about family hardships. Talks about poverty and alcoholism.” You paused to think for a moment before looking back up at Eugene with a smirk. “I don’t mind reading sad stories usually. But I can’t help but wish I’d stolen a happier book from my sister on my way out.”

That earned a chuckle from Eugene.

“Well, I--”

“Now now, what have we here?”

The two of you had been so focused on each other that neither of you had noticed that Eugene’s friend -- you remembered Eugene called him Snafu -- had returned, and was leaning against the side of the booth with a bottle of Coke in his hand.

“Thought you wanted to read your book?” Snafu continued, a playful tone to his voice. He cocked an eyebrow before taking a sip of his soda. You glanced over at Eugene to find him beet red in the face.

“Actually, I was just inviting Mr. Sledge here to grab some dinner with me,” you improvised, not wanting to have to lose your alone time with Eugene. “If he’d like.” His eyes lit up.

“I would be honored, miss,” Eugene replied, getting to his feet and holding a hand out for you. Your cheeks hurt from how wide you were smiling as you placed your hand into his and let him help you from the booth. Eugene looped your arm under his and began to lead you down the aisle when Snafu’s slow, southern dialect called out behind you.

“Oh, I see how it is. Well, don’t have too much fun, you two!”

“So what did you miss the most while you were away?”

The question surprised Eugene a little bit. It was the first time she had asked him anything that had to do with his experience in the war.

“My dog,” he replied, his eyes dropping to his half-empty plate. “Closest friend I’ve ever had. He passed while I was gone.”

She nodded in understanding, and Eugene appreciated that she didn’t offer him pity.

“Dogs really are better than humans sometimes.”

Eugene simply nodded as his gaze drifted out the window. Time passing in the pacific had been a blur, even with him keeping track of the days in his notebook. He couldn’t even remember when it was he got the letter about Deacon. Maybe it was sometime during Okinawa? It must have been. He was just so angry --

“Where do you go?” The woman’s voice interrupted Eugene’s thoughts, and he blinked rapidly as he realized he had been zoning out.

“Sorry, what?”

The woman seemed unfazed. She simply looked at him with curiosity, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“When I first saw you yesterday, you were staring out the window. Eyes glazed over, lost in thought. You’ve done it a few times actually,” she explained. “You drifted off the same way just now. So my question is, where do you go?”

Where to start? Should he sit there and detail the horrors he’d seen? How every second he spent on those islands would flash before him, his brain forcing him to relive the atrocities he’d witnessed and been a part of? And could he even begin to put into words how affected he was? Was it fair to unload his burdens on this innocent girl, who’d brought him nothing but peace since he had set foot on the train platform?

“Back there,” was all he said, hoping it would be enough. It seemingly was, as his dinner date nodded her head once again. A silence settled over the pair, and Eugene couldn’t help but kick himself. If he hadn’t gotten lost in his thoughts before, she wouldn’t have asked and they could have continued their lovely dinner.

“I’m no expert,” the woman spoke up, and Eugene’s eyes locked on to hers. “But I have a feeling it’s going to take some time for you boys to fully leave that place.” The woman leaned forward, and Eugene was struck by how warm and comforting her eyes were. “And in my humble opinion, the world shouldn’t expect you to be okay right away.”

Eugene was blown away. This woman -- this beautiful, funny, clever, smart woman, who’d never set foot on a battlefield in her life -- somehow got it. Sure she hadn’t physically seen the things that Eugene had seen, and she never would, so she couldn’t completely understand. But she respected him and what he’d been through. And not in a superficial way, like when strangers on the street would thank him for his service. But in a way that made him feel seen and heard -- without having to speak a word of the horrors out loud.

With a nod of his head, Eugene finally spoke up.

“I appreciate that,” he said. “Now if only the rest of the world agreed with you.”

By the time Eugene and you walked back to the coach car, the sun had gone down completely. You could tell Eugene was beat, and you wondered if he even had slept the night before with how large the bags under his eyes were.

You tucked yourself back into your booth across from the boys, continuing where you left off in your sister’s novel.

The boys were relatively quiet next to you, and you realized after only a few moments that Eugene was out cold, slumbering against his duffle.

It soothed you to see him so peaceful. Your conversation over dinner had confirmed what you had expected to be true: Eugene could put on a face, but behind the facade he was extremely haunted by his time overseas.

It truly wasn’t fair. No one should be subjected to such horrors. Young boys with their futures ahead of them, shipped off to some foreign country, to either die or come back missing a piece of themselves? Tearing families apart and turning cities to rubble? It all seemed so pointless.

You were just one person. Just a simple girl from a small town, lost in your own life, unsure of where the path ahead would lead. But you had a loving heart and a warm embrace. And you’d give them both to Eugene, no questions asked. You could see yourself walking down that path with his hand in yours, figuring out how to navigate the future together. The thought of Eugene being there made it a little less terrifying. And you wanted nothing more than for Eugene to go through the rest of his life never feeling unsafe ever again.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when the train slowed to a stop. You watched as Snafu slowly got to his feet and grabbed his duffle from the bunk, swinging it over his shoulder. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking back at Eugene before stepping into the aisle. His eyes locked onto yours and he cocked his head back towards the sleeping marine.

“It’s rare to sleep well these days. Don’t want to ruin that,” he mumbled, clearly feeling like he had to explain himself to you. “I’m not one for goodbyes either.” You offered him an understanding nod and a friendly smile. Snafu returned your nod before heading down the aisle and out the door.

Sometimes you didn’t understand why men did the things they did. But you’d also never be able to understand the connection and camaraderie between servicemen. So you didn’t question Snafu’s decision to leave without waking Eugene.

Another hour or so had passed after the stop in New Orleans when you heard a whimper from across the aisle. Your eyes shot over to Eugene and your heart practically stopped. His eyes were closed tightly, his brow pinched, and he was gripping his own arms so hard his knuckles were practically white. He shook and thrashed in his seat, small cries escaping his lips that seemed to increase in volume each second.

You lept to your feet, throwing your book into your booth behind you before plopping next to Eugene and gently resting your hands on his.

“Eugene,” you whispered, trying not to wake him too harshly. He was clearly having a nightmare, and you didn’t know if trying to startle him awake was the right move. “Eugene, honey, wake up.”

He continued to shake, sweat forming on his forehead and his cries growing louder and louder. You moved your hands to his face, cupping his jaw gently and running your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Eugene!” you spoke louder and suddenly his eyes shot open and he sat up, gasping for air, but your hold on him prevented him from going too far. He blinked rapidly as his chest heaved, trying to get his bearings, but you continued to caress his face, murmuring affirmations to help him.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” you assured him. His big, hazel eyes were so sad as they stared into yours, and tears had begun to fall to his red cheeks. He let out a sob and you pulled him to your chest, cradling the back of his head as you wrapped your other arm around him. You held him close to you as he cried, your heart breaking at seeing him like this. You wished you could take every burden away from him. He didn’t deserve this. No one did.

A few nosy guests began to peek over their seats to see what was happening, frowns painted on their faces. As if this poor man’s trauma was an inconvenience to them. You glared daggers at them, and they shied away, slipping back into their seats.

You lost track of time, absentmindedly running your fingers through Eugene’s auburn locks as you held him. You began to softly hum a melody, a song that always comforted you when you were upset. Eugene’s cries began to quiet down, and his body shakes ceased.

Suddenly, he tensed in your arms before pulling away entirely. He wiped at his cheeks roughly as he sniffled, eyes locked on to his lap. You watched him carefully, unsure of what to do.

“Sorry,” he croaked out, his voice scratchy. “I, uh -- um, thank you for…” he trailed off, gesturing towards you with his hand.

“It’s okay,” you replied timidly. You knew he was embarrassed but you wanted to pull him back into your arms and assure him that he had no reason to be. But you waited, wanting him to come to you. His brow furrowed and you could practically hear his brain thinking.

“Now I guess you can see how broken I really am,” he said after a few moments and your heart ached.

“Eugene,” you practically cried. But he didn’t respond, instead turning sharply to face the dark window and letting out a shaky breath.

A tear escaped down your own cheek, your heart stinging at the rejection. But you opted to respect his space. With a sigh, you stood and shifted back over to your booth. You didn’t bother picking up your book, instead deciding to pull your own trunk and coat down from the rack and settling against them, hoping maybe you could get a little sleep.

Eugene didn’t bother trying to fall back asleep -- he knew wait awaited him in his dreams. Instead he focused on what he could see out of the train window. The sun eventually rose into the sky, and Eugene could finally see the greenery of Mississippi just before the train crossed the border into his home state.

He hadn’t taken a moment to look over at the woman he knew was still in the booth across from him. He couldn’t bear it. He was so ashamed of her seeing him like that. And then even more ashamed at how he’d pushed her away after she had been so kind to him. She hadn’t needed to comfort him, she had no obligation to do so. Yet she held him anyway. And Eugene had thanked her with a cold shoulder.

As the train pulled into the Mobile station, Eugene’s eyes scanned the platform. He couldn’t help but smile when he spotted Sid, leaning against his car.

Eugene slid out of the booth, grabbing his duffle and throwing it over his shoulder. A small voice sounded next to him.

“Eugene?”

The marine turned to find his woman in burgundy, eyes filled with so much worry, holding out a piece of paper.

“If you want to write. You don’t have to,” she explained, her voice uneasy. Eugene could feel his chest tighten. He hated that he had hurt her, made it so that she was so unsure around him. He gently took the piece of paper from her hand, his finger brushing hers just slightly. He was so tongue-tied, he had no idea what to say to her. So he simply offered her a soft smile and tucked the paper into his coat pocket.

As he made his way down the aisle, Eugene took a deep breath. Maybe one day he’d work up the nerve to write to her. He’d explain his actions and apologize profusely for his behavior. Hope that she’d forgive him but would understand if she didn’t.

But what was the point if he was always going to be broken?

You didn’t think you missed Tallahassee. But after settling back into your childhood home, visiting some of your old haunts, and reuniting with old friends, you’d begun to realize its charm.

Now that all the men were home from the war, jobs for women were scarce. You spent most of your time helping your mother around the house or taking walks downtown. Every so often you and some girlfriends would drive down to the beach, but other than that, you didn’t get up to much.

It had been a little over two months since you’d gotten home. You would have been lying if you said you hadn’t checked the mailbox religiously -- each day hoping a letter from Eugene would arrive. You knew the two of you had parted ways rather awkwardly, and you understood if a letter never arrived. But you really hoped you’d hear from him.

You opened the mailbox, only finding some random letters for your father. With a sigh, you headed back inside the house, dropping the letters on your father’s desk before heading down the hall to your room.

You collapsed on your bed with a groan, staring up at the ceiling. You needed to get Eugene off your mind. Maybe some of your friends knew some local servicemen who weren’t spoken for.

You were lost in your musings when a knock sounded at your door. Your mother called your name from the other side.

“You have a gentleman caller, dear,” she explained through the wood. “I didn’t know you knew any marines!”

You sat up with a jolt, eyes wide. Could it be?

“Be there in a minute, ma!” you called out, rushing to your vanity. You quickly checked yourself over, fixing your hair just slightly and patting down your skirt. You cursed at how your bed had wrinkled your blouse, but you didn’t have time to fix it. And if your caller was who you thought it was, you were sure he wouldn’t mind.

You practically flung open your door, pausing in the hall to take a deep breath before stepping out.

You were greeted with the sight of Private First Class Eugene Bondurant Sledge, adorned in his uniform, standing in your living room.

Eugene’s face lit up at your entrance, a huge smile plastered across his face. You grinned as you took him in -- he was even more handsome than you remembered.

“I’m sorry I didn’t write,” he said, breaking the silence. “I needed some time to get settled back home. And I figured you deserved an in-person apology for my actions.”

“Eugene, you have nothing to apologize for, I promise you,” you assured him as you took a step forward. You itched to reach out to him, but you knew your mother was watching nearby. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Eugene was here, in the flesh, in your living room in Tallahassee. You could barely believe it.

“Ma’am? Do you mind if I take your daughter out for a walk around the neighborhood? I promise we’ll be back before supper,” Eugene inquired, addressing your mother, who had been lingering in the doorway of the kitchen. She grinned as she clasped her hands together.

“As long as you promise to join us for supper, Mr. Sledge.”

“It would be my pleasure, ma’am,” Eugene said with a sharp nod. He turned back to you and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

With a beaming smile, you looped your arm through his and let him lead you out the front door.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, soaking up each other’s presence in the warm Floridian air. You nudged his shoulder slightly.

“I was right, you know,” you spoke up.

“About what?”

“You do have a girl.”

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