Remus takes Sirius’ scars away from him. The ones you could see, anyway. [slight AU]
cw: scars, past injuries, implied child abuse
Sirius ran away from home at age thirteen, midsummer. The first time Remus saw him after was in a corner of the Potters’ garden.
James told him about how Sirius stumbled from the Knight Bus to their front door, clothes soaked through with rain. And blood. The only thing he had on him was his wand. He’d all but collapsed once they got him inside, sending Euphemia into a frenzy trying to heal the gashes that were all over his skin.
Remus found him in the garden, and sat down next to Sirius on the grass, just on the edge of the shade Sirius was hunched under. He must have spied Remus coming, but made no indication to acknowledge him besides burrowing his head further into his knees. Remus had never, never seen him so beaten down, so small. He tried to place a hand on his shoulder, Sirius flinched away.
“You never wore long sleeves in the summer.” Remus said.
“Mrs. Potter did say the sun wouldn’t help the scars healing.”
From his hand white knuckled around his knees, Remus could see the pink lines of recent scars reaching into the sleeves of the sweater.
“You could show me.” Remus said.
Sirius shook his head without lifting it, somehow drawing even more into himself. There was a strange ache in Remus’ chest, and he reached for Sirius’ hand with his, prying loose a thumb and curling his fingers around it. The two of them sat there silent in the long summer grass, until Sirius’ fingers loosened, and started to brush across the thin raised lines of scars on the back of Remus’ own hand.
“You could show me.” Remus said again.
And then, slowly, wordlessly, Sirius lifted his head while peering at Remus like a scared small animal.
His eyes were red, his hair a mess clinging to the frame of his forehead. And there were one, two angry-looking gashes across his face and down his cheek. It was the sort of scars Remus knew by looking would stay long after it fully healed. Sirius didn’t let go of Remus’ hand, still clutched against his knee, as he watched Remus watching him. Until eventually, he let out a watery chuckle.
“Thanks for not crying on me.” Sirius said, sniffling and forcing a smile.
Remus tugged at his arm, for Sirius to turn and face him. Remus took both Sirius’ hands in his, as he finally let his knees fall from his chest.
“May I?” Remus asked, thumbing at the loose sleeves of the sweater.
Sirius nodded, letting Remus push the sleeves up his arm, revealing the criss-cross that jarred against Sirius’ smooth pale skin. He knew Sirius was staring between his and Remus’ own exposed arms, weighing up each of their marks of torn flesh, from claws and curses.
Look at us, Remus wanted to say, what a matched set we are. But it’s not the same. An unnamed horror was growing behind his throat and he tried not to imagine a mother who’d do this to her thirteen year old son.
“Your scars don’t change who you are.” Remus said.
Sirius looked away.
“Your scars don’t change who you are. It’s what you said to me, remember?”
“But they do.” Sirius said, barely a breath, “They made me like this, my, my family—”
“They are not your family,” Remus said fiercely.
Sirius gave him one short, grateful side glance, before it broke with a breathless sob choked into a cough. “How dare they— They want me to never forget, never ever really get away from them— And I can’t. I can’t let them mark me like this—”
Remus didn’t think he’d said this to anyone else. James had grabbed him aside, eyes full terrified and full with worry, asking him to please, try and talk to him, he wouldn’t tell me anything.
“Moony, it hurt so much. And I— how could I be saying this to you when you have to go through this every month—”
“No, Sirius, stop, it’s not the same.”
“And I can’t even sleep, I keep having dreams. And I can’t tell James about it with the way he looks at me. He told me how in the end they’re family, and that meant they must still care—”
“Sirius, James got it wrong, he didn’t understand—”
Sirius shook his head. A bunch of thirteen year-olds, what did any of them understand?
“I still don’t— Remus, even Reg—”
Remus pulled him forward, held him tight.
“What if,” Sirius said against his shoulder, as if confessing a worst fear, “what if they’d really broken me, made me a monster just like them?”
Remus felt his eyes sting. He clutched Sirius even tighter by way of answer. He wished the caress of sun and soft winds could take all the scars and hurt away, but they didn’t make him feel any less helpless. It was such a bright day, with only plums of clouds crowding the edge of the open, too-bright sky. Somewhere, the pale arc of a moon hung drowned out by all the light. Remus could feel Sirius’ shoulders shaking in his arms, hurting. Let me, he thought, let me carry it instead, but there was nothing, nothing Remus could do to ease any of his pain.
Though perhaps. There was perhaps something.
Remus softly drew back, hands sliding down Sirius’ arm, drawing his attention with the deliberate motion. He could feel the swirling in his chest, a burning urge to heal, to ease, to take away the hurt— and felt it focus in the magic between his fingers. Quietly he reached out, traced with a thumb over a still-healing mark that began on the inside of Sirius’ wrist. And following the warm trail of his finger, the scar sizzled, dissolved away.
Sirius’ eyes widened, “how did you— even Effie couldn’t—”
Then it reappeared, tracing its way up along Remus’ arm. His brows tightened a little at the prickle of pain that accompanied the scar, now looking silvery and aged, etching into his skin.
“No— no!” Sirius gasped, “What are you doing?”
“They can’t mark you. They don’t get to, Sirius. I could carry this for you”, he said. Because they were young, young enough to care for each other with a kind of bottomless, unabashed sincerity. But old enough to see that their friendship with each other was the purest thing they had in their life, to really mean it when they said ‘I’d do anything for you’. To Remus at thirteen, this all made perfect sense.
“It doesn’t matter. The scars don’t matter at all.” Remus said, bolder now. He traced another scar, relocating it from Sirius to him. His own arm barely looked any different, there were already so many lines on his skin.
“Remus,stop.”
“You said my scars don’t change me, or how you see me.”
“No, of course not, but—”
“But it changes how you see yourself.”
Sirius fell silent. He looked at Remus pleadingly without quite knowing what he was pleading for.
“I— Remus, that doesn’t mean you should take my scars—”
“Shh. I need to concentrate for this one. Don’t move.” Remus said, as his hands moved up to cup Sirius’ chin.
Tears started gathering again in Sirius’ eyes, though he didn’t move to stop Remus, “Why are you doing this? Why?”
Because they were thirteen, and didn’t know that lines on the body didn’t matter. Or they didn’t know how much they mattered.
“Sirius, listen,” With a thumb, Remus wiped away the tear just slipping out, and started tracing the scar that began just under the eye, “When you met a boy covered with scars, you tried to help him though everyone else would have thought him a monster. You gave him friendship and kindness and love and it’s so much more than he deserved—”
“—No, Remus you—”
“Shh. It’s fine. You don’t have to say all that.” He moved his thumb to the second scar, just across the cheek. A trail of tingles was making its way across his face too.
“The way you stand up for your friends, stand up to your cousins, your parents— You are the bravest boy I know.” He finished, hands falling to his sides.
And Sirius didn’t say anything for a long while, his gaze barely daring to waver from his eyes, flickering with a thousand emotions. He looked scared and all kinds of overwhelmed all at once. Then, slowly, he lifted a hand to Remus’ cheek, tracing where the new scar appeared.
Remus had almost surprised himself with how much he said, he was never the one with words. But it’d always been Sirius who brought it out of him. When Remus moved his arm to hold Sirius’ hands, they snapped to catch his.
There was no point denying what he’d done. No point second guessing why he did or if he should have done. Clearly, Sirius wasn’t going to let him do it anymore as well.
So with a sad little smile, Remus squeezed his hands before quietly standing and slipping away.
-
When Euphemia caught him, brows creasing from seeing Sirius’ scar on his face, Remus pursed his lips and shrugged a little.
“Please don’t be mad at Sirius, Mrs. Potter. It was me who wanted to do it.”
-
It was near sundown when Sirius came inside and found him.
“Remus!” he called out, rushed over, and caught him in the tightest embrace. And years from then Remus might look in the mirror and wonder— wonder. The marks they left the promises they etched deep into the mind and the tiny ways they carried and broke each other. But now, with his nose buried in Sirius’ hair, Remus could just see the brilliant sunset beyond the window, and the slip of moon that was starting to glow.
I have been on a short hiatus (sort of). I am not at home. I had an ordeal that took me away from all my work on @tkwrtrilogy3and@thesecretofthehouseofbourbonbook for some time. I am just now returning to work, as it were. One day, I will tell you what happened when I am ready. For now, I am still putting the pieces of my life back in order and slowly returning to my beloved work. There will be more updates on @tkwrtnewsfeedand@newsfromthehouseofbourbon.
I have NO issues in any representation of the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not care if it is animated, live action, literary or spray painted on the side of a building. Expression is the highest form of flattery.
What I have a problem with is a representation that does not lead back to Tolkien. I purposely created “The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy” and its subsequent standalone books for the sole purpose to lead back to Tolkien’s original works. When someone says to me, “reading your story has made me want to read (or reread Tolkien),” my mission has been fulfilled.
I do not do what I do for money. I do not do it for notoriety which I have gained worldwide. I do it because of the love of reading and out of respect for my literary hero J.R.R. Tolkien. In the early days, when people confused my story with Tolkien, that upset me greatly. First of all, I do not think I sound like Tolkien as my story is told in the first person. Granted, I studied his language patterns and felt the need to take out anything “modern” in order to ensure my stories maintained a certain believability.
I have created characters when necessary but never once have I ever taken the works of Tolkien out of context. I “write around” the original material. I work with the original material. I am always referring back to the material to make sure I am capturing the essence of Middle-Earth as Tolkien created it. I made that promise to my father and Tolkien the very second I decided to write my story. I took the path less traveled at a time when Middle-Earth fan fictions on Tumblr were often filled with vulgarity and graphic sex.
I was on the last rung on a ladder of stories when I began “The Saga of Thranduil”. At any time, I could have turned the tide for more attention, but I refused. I could not bring myself to lessen the work of the man inspired me to write fantasy when I was a child. I knew anything less than my best would have disappointed my dying father. I continued on the path I chose.
When teachers started telling me they liked TKWRT and asked if they could read it to their students during a unit on Tolkien, I was shocked. When soldiers deployed in war zones asked for a copy of TKWRT, I was humbled. When high school students wrote me during Winter Recess about wanting to read TKWRT because they could not get to a library, I realized I had done something wonderful. When other published writers asked if my work was a continuation of Tolkien, I finally allowed myself to accept the reason so many people told me they had written to the Tolkien Estate asking about a “lost” book about Thranduil.
I know what I have done and will continue to do. I do not have any issues with how Tolkien is represented. I know how I represent Tolkien. He is never far from my mind whenever I write sentence. In fact, I am always surrounded by his books when I am working. I am telling histories through the eyes of his characters in his world. I make sure he is always front and center in that moment. From the naming of characters (often mentioned but never named) to new place names, I never am looking to the outside. My guide is Tolkien. Until the very last word, he will be the inspiration. He has to be, otherwise I am disrespecting his legacy, genius and his work. This entire series is dedicated to J.R.R. Tolkien. I would not wish to give him anything he would not be proud to read himself.–Jaynaé Marie Miller, from Excerpts, A Memoir.
The way my heart sunk when I went to click the “next page” arrow and it wasn’t there…anyway, commemorative t-shirt! Love you both, and also mod very much <3
I’m sorry for disappearing, but things have been a lot. My cat Lucky got severely ill and she has been diagnosed with FIP (Feline Infectious Peritonitis). It’s been weeks of rushing to the vet and eventually a 5 day stay at the animal clinic. Until a few years ago this was a terminal illness, but now there’s an experimental treatment. It’s a heavy treatment that requires daily injections for 3 months, but so far the results have been promising. It’s also a very expensive treatment on top of all the vet and hospital bills. And because I needed 1,5 days off during the height of the emergency, my work was not understanding so I’m on the job hunt again.
I have some build wips and I hope to finish one this weekend now things are regaining some normalcy and I’ll answer the few asks in my mailbox as well.
I’m not one to beg for money, but Lucky’s medical bills will easily run up to 3000 euro’s by the end of the treatment. So I’ll leave a link to my Kofi here, but I know it’s my responsibility to carry.
See you all soon again with some fun builds for your sims!
PS: the picture is from before she got sick. She has a rare FIP symptom that caused a lot of wounds and blisters around the head region and those are not fully healed. I’d rather not show her like that as it can be triggering.
I have NO issues in any representation of the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. I do not care if it is animated, live action, literary or spray painted on the side of a building. Expression is the highest form of flattery.
What I have a problem with is a representation that does not lead back to Tolkien. I purposely created “The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy” and its subsequent standalone books for the sole purpose to lead back to Tolkien’s original works. When someone says to me, “reading your story has made me want to read (or reread Tolkien),” my mission has been fulfilled.
I do not do what I do for money. I do not do it for notoriety which I have gained worldwide. I do it because of the love of reading and out of respect for my literary hero J.R.R. Tolkien. In the early days, when people confused my story with Tolkien, that upset me greatly. First of all, I do not think I sound like Tolkien as my story is told in the first person. Granted, I studied his language patterns and felt the need to take out anything “modern” in order to ensure my stories maintained a certain believability.
I have created characters when necessary but never once have I ever taken the works of Tolkien out of context. I “write around” the original material. I work with the original material. I am always referring back to the material to make sure I am capturing the essence of Middle-Earth as Tolkien created it. I made that promise to my father and Tolkien the very second I decided to write my story. I took the path less traveled at a time when Middle-Earth fan fictions on Tumblr were often filled with vulgarity and graphic sex.
I was on the last rung on a ladder of stories when I began “The Saga of Thranduil”. At any time, I could have turned the tide for more attention, but I refused. I could not bring myself to lessen the work of the man inspired me to write fantasy when I was a child. I knew anything less than my best would have disappointed my dying father. I continued on the path I chose.
When teachers started telling me they liked TKWRT and asked if they could read it to their students during a unit on Tolkien, I was shocked. When soldiers deployed in war zones asked for a copy of TKWRT, I was humbled. When high school students wrote me during Winter Recess about wanting to read TKWRT because they could not get to a library, I realized I had done something wonderful. When other published writers asked if my work was a continuation of Tolkien, I finally allowed myself to accept the reason so many people told me they had written to the Tolkien Estate asking about a “lost” book about Thranduil.
I know what I have done and will continue to do. I do not have any issues with how Tolkien is represented. I know how I represent Tolkien. He is never far from my mind whenever I write sentence. In fact, I am always surrounded by his books when I am working. I am telling histories through the eyes of his characters in his world. I make sure he is always front and center in that moment. From the naming of characters (often mentioned but never named) to new place names, I never am looking to the outside. My guide is Tolkien. Until the very last word, he will be the inspiration. He has to be, otherwise I am disrespecting his legacy, genius and his work. This entire series is dedicated to J.R.R. Tolkien. I would not wish to give him anything he would not be proud to read himself.–Jaynaé Marie Miller, from Excerpts, A Memoir.
First of all, there are a few things about this 3rd Draft of the Extended Version. It is not complete (as it should have been). Why? Because this October, my old laptop died and though it did retrieve nearly all my work, it lost all my notes on The Extended Version. Note to you (and self): Apple Stickies don’t retrieve anything if you lose something. Use Post-It by 3M if you have a tablet (and I’m doing that now). This means you may actually get another lookatThe Extended Version and this is not the last time you get to read it with the additions.
Secondly, when you get to the Appendix, you’ll probably see the additions that got lost while my old laptop died during the Catalina Software Download (and the laptop wasn’t that old, I might add)–there are “new people” not in the story (yet). You can either ignore them or start rumors of their origins (though some are self-explanatory). Some characters will be in Book III: The Last Tale of Legolas Lasgalen (and that extended version) and/or in Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen (currently on-going).
There is a scene that was about to be put into this book (while I was promoting The House of Durin) that is on Instagram right now about Thranduil dealing with his future “son-in-law” (future husband of his daughter Isílriel). It is located to the right of a bright photo titled “End of Summer: LAIRË METTA”. I hope to post the scene the event takes place eventually (along with others) either there or in the complete version at a later date TBA.
Also, I just learned today, my new Spell-Check hasn’t learned Elvish. Though, Erestor is blessedly not Crestor, some things in Elvish might look weird (and my laptop froze while I was working and I freaked out because I didn’t want the trauma of losing anything again), some things are still a weird mix of Apple’s inability to recognize another language (oh, Black Speech they know–makes you wonder), Sindarin and Quenya. That’ll be fixed in post.
Please Enjoy this version of the book () knowing eventually there will be way more than 567 pages (including the Appendix) and way more adventures (most being told again in the extended version of The Last Tale of Legolas Lasgalen).–Jaynaé Marie Miller, author.
I was initially prepared to post an excerpt for Book I: The Epic of Eryn Galen when I came upon some horrific human food that put me down for some time this evening. I’ve finally evolved into an elf so Lembas, it is then. Water, Lettuce and Lembas will be my new diet. I hope that will be enough to sustain me for when I resume sword fighting again.
Anyway, it has been quite the year–in spite of losing my father in October. He’d be proud to know his little gift from me has garnered 6700+ views on WordPress in less than six months. I credit much of that to my father–when I announced his death, my stats jumped up like the rock star he was. That, children, is how you get a mountain named after you in Antarctica (that’s true, my father has one of those for his work in the field of Chemistry). I have some very large shoes to fill on my journey through the rest of my life. Perhaps I’ll make my mark in writing. I think I’m getting good at it. ☺️ Better, anyway.
I wanted everyone to that I’m going to start posting the Character Appendix again. I think it’s time now; there are an awful lot of new characters to get you lost–just like a Tolkien book.
Also, great news! Someone taught me how to work this Tumblr thing. I’m only good for writing–I am horrible with all that technical stuff. They had to do a pictorial. As soon as I figure it out, The Kingdom of the Woodland Realm Trilogy will have a Table of Contents just like on WordPress. It will make it so much easier to read. I’m gathering @fortunatelyclevercandy is going to do the same with The House of Durin: @thehouseofdurin . It will help you get through the (now) over 1000 pages of The Elvenking and his wonderful world.
This is what I do now–full time. I’m so busy with it, I’m going to need a new assistant. I can be hard to deal with but I’m reasonably adorable. Such is the life of The Elvenking of the Woodland Realm.
Thank you for reading my little story. I’m glad it’s an interesting read. I put my little heart into it for over three years now. Just celebrated my 3rd Anniversary on Tumblr (December 22). I love writing this story (and all of them; one book down, four to go).
You helped to make my father’s dream come true–you helped make his youngest child an author. He’s somewhere smiling now–with Professor Tolkien, I hope. I’m looking forward to 2019. You have a year to go for the next release of Book II: The Saga of Thranduil. I think you’re going to like it.
You haven’t seen anything yet. I can’t wait for you to find out what Thranduil is like when his only daughter (Isílriel) introduces her father to her chosen soulmate. And wait until you meet Elranduil’s daughter. (Yeah, the cousins have to do everything together). Happy Holidays!
This is for @zoryany for the Luke and Vader exchange over discord!
I really hope you like this! It’s from your fic Back Against the Wall! I really loved this moment and thought it was a great depiction of father and son! The fic overall was wonderful but this stuck out to me! I really hope you like this!
Tags:Dubcon, age gap, traumatic history, hurt/comfort, contemporary AU, set in Australia, sensuality, ageism, older Augus / younger Mosk (See fic for more tags)
Summary: Mosk Manytrees works as a cynical, tired nursery hand at a native plant nursery. When Augus Each Uisge turns up, looking for a rare kangaroo paw (a plant) not yet on the market, Mosk can’t wait to get rid of him. After all, the guy is in his fifties, and everything about that is just gross, right? But Mosk has to work much harder to convince himself of that, this time around. (Part 2 of As Green as the Ragged Grass)
Thank you for all your kind comments and thoughts about my work! You all are so sweet and I really appreciate it!
Earlier in the year, I moved away from my transphobic parents’ house and created a Ko-Fi to help with the cost of living. Unfortunately, I had to end up moving back with my parents, and that’s where I am currently, so I took down my Ko-Fi link because I didn’t feel comfortable having people donate money when it wasn’t going to be able to be used for the purpose I had stated as helping with my living costs. I also felt guilty that I wasn’t providing any extra or exclusive content on my Ko-Fi page.
I only really know the basics of Ko-Fi. And I don’t really want to make exclusive comics that people would have to pay for, because making this comic series free, anonymous, and available for anyone was a very purposeful decision. But I also have no income right now, due to the pandemic and classes. I am not in urgent need of money, as I am being housed by my parents, but I would like to be able to move out someday, and have the funds to be able to do that.
So! I’m going to put my Ko-Fi link back up, but this time around I would like to explicitly treat it as simply a Tip Jar! If you like my work and want to donate some money, feel free and thank you! If you don’t want to give money, that’s all right too and thank you for reading! No exclusive content will appear on Ko-Fi, so don’t worry about missing out on anything!
This is just a small way for me to continue building up my savings for the future. I am not a big spender, so while I occasionally will buy non-essential things like clothing items, the majority of money donated will be saved for future plans and livelihood. (Just making sure I have some some transparency on what donated money will be used for.)
Why, hai, lovelies! Despite being under the threat of a possible tornado forming, I have put in some work and am happy to announce I have a new short story available (for absolutely free!) on wattpad! Check it out here:
I genuinely hope everything’s goin’ the way you want, and if it isn’t, keep going! You got this, you wonderful pieces of the universe! Stay safe out there. And thank you, always, for reading!
pairing: single dad!Yoongi x f!reader genre(s): pure fluff, very minor angst au(s): graduation au word count: 2.7k warnings: some swearing, Yoongi is a little nervous, Yoongi is bad at flirting, this is so cute I could cry
rating: PG
summary: For the longest time, it’s always been Yoongi and his daughter, celebrating every milestone of life together. But today, that could change.
a/n: omg isi updating back to back fics? who is she? anyway this is inspired by that viral post of a little girl proudly taking pics of her dad on graduation day. thank you mars @joheunsaram for showing me the post and also letting me use her idea! i hope i did this justice. also inspired by one of my classmates who brought their little one dressed in a cap and gown to walk across the stage with them (so cute)! and big congrats to the class of 2022, i’m so proud of all the graduates, you deserve the world!!
listen to: man of the year by logic
A bead of sweat pools at the back of Yoongi’s head, sliding down his neck and into the special black robe he’d adorned. A heavy sigh escapes his throat. He’d probably have to get the robe dry cleaned. Another $10 spent on an item he’d never keep after today, and he knows money had been tight for the last little while. He’d barely been able to squeak by and pay Eunha’s school fees this month, begging his PI for a last-minute raise, who’d reluctantly acquiesced, knowing Yoongi was graduating soon anyway.
Yoongi resists the urge to scratch the itch that popped up mere moments ago and has now bloomed into a painful nuisance. Why were these outfits so damn scratchy? He’d never understand it.
“Appa,” his ears perk up at the small voice, the tiny hand clutching his own, and his fingers wind tighter around Eunha’s. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader x Benny Miller
Summary: After the first time you all sleep together, Frankie lets his mind wander to places he had previously firmly denied himself.
Words: 920
Warnings: references to sex, general series rating M. Reader is marked female here because of the word wife (reader is married to Frankie), but otherwise no gendered language whatsoever. That might vary in different installments, though.
Notes: Here we go! I have wanted to do this for a looong time, and now I tried something new and it’s been amazingly fun to make it finally happen! I have the first three installments of this relaxed fit series mostly done, and there’s plenty of pining coming up. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the beta <33
Frankie lay awake in bed long after you and Benny had fallen asleep. Lord knew he should have felt exhausted, too, after the day’s – and night’s – activities, but while the other two had started snoring almost immediately after he had cleaned them up after that last round, Frankie found his own mind running too loud to be able to do the same.
This was the first time Benny was sleeping over. In their bed. After several rounds of mind-blowing sex. Thank god they had gotten the larger bed back when they had moved in here, Frankie mused now, so there’s enough room for all three of them.
Benny had been reluctant to stay, thinking he was overstaying his welcome in their bed, but the fighter never could say no to your pleading eyes (which Frankie understood completely). He was glad Benny had stayed. It would have felt horrible to have him just leave after, as if it had meant nothing. Because it meant everything, at least to Frankie.
Ilovecharacter analysis via introspection and I’m WEAK for some good Frankie introspection. Everything about this is lovely—the trepidation, the reflection, the hope. I adored it.
Thanks for sharing with us!
Ahhhhh thank you so much!!!❤️ I was actually a little bit worried it wouldn’t be entertaining to anyone but me, what with not having a single line of dialogue and such, but I’m very glad you liked his introspection!
Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader x Benny Miller
Summary: After the first time you all sleep together, Frankie lets his mind wander to places he had previously firmly denied himself.
Words: 920
Warnings: references to sex, general series rating M. Reader is marked female here because of the word wife (reader is married to Frankie), but otherwise no gendered language whatsoever. That might vary in different installments, though.
Notes: Here we go! I have wanted to do this for a looong time, and now I tried something new and it’s been amazingly fun to make it finally happen! I have the first three installments of this relaxed fit series mostly done, and there’s plenty of pining coming up. Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the beta <33
Frankie lay awake in bed long after you and Benny had fallen asleep. Lord knew he should have felt exhausted, too, after the day’s – and night’s – activities, but while the other two had started snoring almost immediately after he had cleaned them up after that last round, Frankie found his own mind running too loud to be able to do the same.
This was the first time Benny was sleeping over. In their bed. After several rounds of mind-blowing sex. Thank god they had gotten the larger bed back when they had moved in here, Frankie mused now, so there’s enough room for all three of them.
Benny had been reluctant to stay, thinking he was overstaying his welcome in their bed, but the fighter never could say no to your pleading eyes (which Frankie understood completely). He was glad Benny had stayed. It would have felt horrible to have him just leave after, as if it had meant nothing. Because it meant everything, at least to Frankie.
My gosh Sam, this is so beautiful and I love, love, love how you’ve captured Frankie’s thoughts and his introspection. It’s so clear that he’s been in love with Benny for so long and to finally have this, oh my heart, of course his mind must be racing! And when he thinks of Benny and in how much pain he must’ve been.. my poor babies ❤️ All the happiness going forward!
I love the story behind the photo, it’s wonderful and really fits with the idea of them goofing around together! I can just imagine it, Benny looking serious one second for Frankie to snap the picture before flopping down to giggle and Frankie doing the same, all focused and tongue in the middle of his mouth before snort-laughing at the antics!
I am in love with this universe already ❤️
My darlinggggg thank you so much I was really hoping you would like this, so I’m very happy and flattered that you did! And I’m glad you enjoyed the introspection, we have more of that coming hahah
Fandom:Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance Ship: Seladon / skekSo Summary:What if Emperor had said ‘Yes’ to her, just once? Seladon shares an uncomfortable meal at the Skesis table. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036080/chapters/50035253
It was not the first time she had been invited to sit at the dining table, but it was the first that she had accepted.
She hid beneath her crown, her head tipped so that the spirals of deep black claw and tooth could be presented to the world. Her eyes cast downwards, shadowed into dark slits beneath her heavy lashes. There was no reason for her to act this way - downtrodden, ashamed, a poor girl overwhelmed by what was only her duty - these were guises that had long been exorcised from her body. However, at this dinner table… all the rules she had once learned were turned on their head. It was not that she was afraid, she told herself, it was that this posture was the one expected of her.
Shrieking filled her ears from all sides. A cacophony that would never have been permitted at her mother’s- no, the previous All Maudra’s - no, that turncoat’s court. Feculent language spewed from mouths suited to the sewer - but this was no sewer, this was the highest table in all the land. And no matter what she thought of it, it was their right to behave in whatever way they so desired. In whatever way hepermitted.
And he sat by her side. She saw only his fingers - flexing on the table, curling into a fist and banging with joviality at some joke or another, occasionally picking at food, though, it seemed his appetite was quite restrained. Not unlike hers, she supposed - as she stared back down at her meagre pickings of some fruit that the Gourmand had not bothered to name.
But as much as he laughed - his voice just one dark shadow cast in a sea of confusing shapes - she would not engage in such frivolities. No, not at this occasion - her head kept so perfectly still, her body sitting on a chair that swayed embarrassingly as it perched precariously on whatever thick tomes the Scroll Keeper resentfully parted with. No, on this outing, she would keep herself in… her place. Out of the conversation, not drawing attention to herself, holding herself with grace and… dignity, a precious, prized ornament - the very best role she could hope for.
And as her chest swelled at the thought, at the hope that - yes, she could do this, that this - all of this - would be worth it in the end… the shrieking grew louder, his body began to sway, long fingers tipped with dinner claws unfurling - excitement visible in the tremble of his finger. She dared cast a glance upwards, and to her surprise and with gasp only barley contained in her throat, his face loomed down towards her. His expression was unreadable, but then - the tremble in his fingers, the way his face loomed closer…
“Yes, bring the Princess some!”
His laughter - sharp, yapping, raspy - imprinted on her face, and she failed to see the humour in any of this. Still, her face contorted pleasantly, shaped itself just as it was meant to, and she said,
“Of course, anything you give me is received with my humblest gratitude. This fruit, it is…”
She trailed off as he stopped paying attention to her, his silver of his beak a slash in the air as a cry of protest rose from the other end of the table.
“We can’t waste precious essence on a GELFLING!”
She followed the direction of his beak - pointing like a silver arrow, like a knife - straight towards General. The other Skesis chattered and murmured, though none seemed to make up their mind enough to agree.
“Well… if it is truly precious, my most pragmatic Emperor, then … There is no need to spare such resource on me…”
Her voice pined, her eyes cast sliding back to him. General… her guts squirmed, she supposed she should be thankful to him, no matter his thoughts on her. He was the reason she took this chair so young, after all.
She held her breath as well as her tongue. After all, she had been made more than used to this kind of humiliation. How often had mother simply sat back and let officials knit-pick at her posture, tease her awkward wording - or worse, share in the joke with her, swap a gaze or a smile of held-back, patronising laughter whenever she braved herself enough to speak her tongue.
But this was not her mother’s court.
“This is not any Gelfling, General. She is the All Maudra,” Emperor laughed and she felt the way his tongue played with her title, like it was a plaything in his mouth. “An All Maudra who plays Skesis, who sits at our table, who sits by my side.”
General snorted, though she could only imagine the state of his face. The Skesis shuffled in their seats, the laughter that had once infected the air now turned soured and heavy.
“But, Emperor…” Scientist remarked - his voice even dimmer as it scratched from the far-side of the table. “We do not know the effects it would have on her body - she is of Thra, so…”
They… was he really insisting…? Her gaze widened, then - eyes wide like hope but in slipped fear. The rumours were true, then. They drained Gelfling, and…
“You, afraid of an experiment, Scientist?”
Emperor guffawed, his fingers now tapping on the table.
They drained Gelfling and drank their essence. This much was true. This much was true, but…
“No, Emperor - I…”
“It is wasted on her! Wouldn’t it be worse if it worked?” General boomed, and Emperor’s gaze once again slit the air.
Yes. They drained them, but what other dark secrets did she not know? What secrets did the commoners only dream of, while they wore their taxed jewels round their necks, wedding veils round their heads?
“… Worse?”
She heard the bite in his voice, saw the cold narrowing his eye.
“She may rule a hundred trine, a thousand with me!”
(She would see him, later, and know this could not be true. Not for her own body, that felt more alive than it had ever been - but because she heard him in the dead of night, retching. He thought he was alone in this - she made sure of that, not because she was afraid of his embarrassment, but because she knew what it was like to be caught by a pitiful gaze when she was busy trying to ebb out her soul into the night, red eyed and filled with sorrow meant only for herself. He was quiet, so forcibly quiet, in his wheezing, in his weeping.)
The Skesis laughed at this, howling, even. General baulked, feathers on his head flailing, but as he leaned his weight over the table, mouth open and prepared to speak - Emperor rose to his full height, a black mass of silk on silk rising skyward.
“Stop! No more of this!”
The room went silent.
“Bring. The Princess. Essence. NOW.”
She hid her head again as Scientist scrambled out of the room, his heavy feet and cloth scraping along the floor. He..
He was embarrassing himself.
For her?
Spoke of a - what did he mean, a hundred trine, a thousand? Her face flushed - was it so that she could be his joke, his talking point, his gilded toy forever?
(Later, she would learn just what she represented. When he held her face in his gnarled hands, his skin full of potholes that her soft flesh tried to fill, when he gazed at her a whitehot gaze she learned was full of jealousy. How he wanted her skin, all that skin, all that youthful beauty. Before he would drag her down into silks upon silks upon silks, an undulating sea of fabric where she could finally - finally - slip free and let loose herself.)
Of course, he had lifespans upon lifespans braided into his layers, into his skin. Those clothes he wore.. they must have dwarfed her lifespan. And though she had been present to the forging of her own crown - he, too, must have been for his - crafted from materials so rare she was not even sure it existed in the earth anymore. That was what Brea had taught her, after all… among many things, none of which really mattered here. A thousand trine… she was nothing but a blip, a scratch of chalk on a long, dark blackboard. How many memories did he have coiled in the curves of his mind? How many versions of her - terrified, scared, bitter little girls did he keep in there?
“Get out.” He snapped, sitting down and running nail over nail, patiently waiting as General struggled to get out of his seat. “GO!”
None, of course.
Because those would not be worth remembering. And he did not see her as a terrified, scared, bitter little girl.
He saw her as a Princess.
She smiled at him, her gaze defiant through her own mixed emotions.
He gazed back at her, eyes narrowing into what might have been a smile.
He’d fought for her.
Her gaze lifted, and she gazed round that table. Every Skesis refused to meet her eyes - cowered away from it, in fact. Glancing between themselves, towards Emperor.
Her smile split into the thinnest of grins.
Yes.
This was power she’d never had. Power her mother had never given her.
He lifted a hand and placed it, heavy, on her head.
She closed her eyes as he lifted the glass to her mouth, fingers in her hair straining to keep her in place. But he did not have to restrain her. He did not have to force her.
“Drink.”
She slid her eyes open as the liquid bubbled at her lips, as his command rippled through her skin.
It Takes Two-Narcos AU Chapter Six: What Good is Being King, If Nobody Knows It Javier Peña x OFC! Stevie Murphy
Summary: You are in too deep, there’s no turning back. You are in unknown location, you took the new step in your relationship with Antonio and it was nothing how you expected. What happens when you witness a murder and some how dive even deeper then what you already were
Oh fuck Stevie is in way too deep. The fact that he has her full name and info is terrifying. But it’s also sad that as terrible as this situation is, there’s still part of her that actually cares for Antonio. Even though they’ve got all this info on Williams, I’m scared for both Stevie and Javier now that he’s been set up.
I love how the tension and action has ratcheted up these last few parts!
She really liked the sweet Antonio she met, and now she’s confused. Like she wants to go back to normal life, but what is normal anymore. And now she has to worry about not only her life but Javi.
It’s about to get more intense in this next chapter
Some you win and some, well, you win. - James B. Barnes
Author: theweirdymcweirderson
Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes
Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader
Word count: 1206 (these are getting longer and longer, sorry)
Summary: Bucky and the reader engage in some teasing games.
Warnings: 18+, Pet names, Boyfriend!Bucky, explicit words, lead up to smut, teasing, Bucky Barnes’ fucking arm, light chocking I guess, kinda Dom!Bucky. That’s it I think, let me know if you fiind more.
Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is I don’t know :)
It’s written in a third person’s point of view, but it’s still reader insert, I guess. ‘*Name’ stand for (Y/n), sorry, I’m lazy :)
She watches as he moves from the counter to the fridge, entranced by the way his sweats shift following his movements, loving the way they cling to his thighs. She’s in absolute love with those thighs of betrayal of his.
She can’t help herself; she’s fucking starving and James Buchanan Barnes is a whole damn meal.
His metal arm pulls the fridge open, and she’s certain her cheeks are flushing red courtesy of the thoughts swirling in her head about that beautiful arm in general, and those thick fingers of his in particular. His hand resurfaces from behind the door with a water bottle and the panties she’s wearing dampen before he even brings it up to his lips.
Her eyes are glued to him as his pink tongue darts out for a quick swipe over those full lips of his before the neck of the bottle makes contact with them. She groans her appreciation and his cloudy blues find her; a small, smug smile spreading on his face as he purposefully lets a drop escape to trail down his chin and along his neck.
Hey there, @mashep23 (I don’t know why, I can’t tag you, still hope you see this) thank you so much for reading and for taking the time to leave some feedback, I’m really grateful for it
Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes, Steve Rogers (for a bit)
Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader
Word count: 972
Summary: Bucky finds out the secret the Reader hs been keeping from him.
Warnings: Pet names, Boyfriend!Bucky, fluff, Soft!Bucky, snack stealing, some news, some secrets. That’s it I think, let me know if you fiind more.
Notes: ‘*Name’ stand for (Y/n), sorry, I’m lazy :)
You’re tiptoeing your way across the common room, snack bag in hand as you try to silently make your way to your bedroom without being caught. This is the third time you’ve stolen Sam’s snacks in the last week.
“Did you tell him about the baby?”
Steve is leaning back against the wall by the door, and he seems extremely pleased to have caught you on your little snack raid. You glare at him, turning around to check that no one else is in the room with you.
Hi there @whatrambles, I’m glad that you enjoyed it thank you so much for reading and for taking the time to leave some feedback, I really appreciate it
genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)
words: 2.7k
part 1 of 2
please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!
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Ever since the rush ended, mining work was somewhat scarce. Most aurelac miners—the ones who didn’t strike it rich, had already squandered away their profits, or ones that worked under flat-rate contract and not profit-share—had been swept up by the large-scale mining companies at the Ephrate.
You, unfortunately, had a falling-out with the head of your crew shortly before the end of the rush, and you were left out in the cold with little more than the clothes on your back and the helmet on your head.
…you had come to appreciate the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, his skin kissed all over with fading white scars, the little paunch of his stomach…
I live only for any mention of the soft little muffintop, thank you for my life; you described him perfectly
listen I love his lil tum so much, I had to include it. <3
