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besanii · 3 years

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shattered mirrors 73

[ set after #69 ]

He’s stumbling forward before he even realises he’s moving, knocking into the low desk with his foot and almost falling over if not for Lan Wangji’s steady hand around his elbow. His limbs feel like lead and his body moves as though wading upstream against a rushing river. His ears are ringing, his vision spotting at the edges, but through all of that he sees the person before him.

“A-Xian.” A sob bubbles up inside his throat at the sound of his name in her voice. “A-Xian.”

She too is stumbling towards him, arms outstretched and tears in her eyes. He wants desperately to fall into her arms, to bury himself in her embrace and let her warmth wrap around him and wash away the horrors of the last fourteen years. Pretend as though he is still Wei Ying, the ward of Yunmeng, her brother in all but name and blood, the little boy who had grown up as her second shadow.

Instead, he sinks to his knees at her feet and presses his forehead to the floor. Lan Wangji follows him to the floor, hovering protectively around him

“Your guilty subject pays respects to Gongzhu-dianxia,” he says. “I humbly beg Dianxia’s forgiveness for failing my duty to Yunmeng Jiang.”

There. He’s said it. The words that had been eating away at him all these years, the constant shadow of guilt lingering in the corner of his mind. His family had been tasked with the protection of Yunmeng and its royal family, it had been their job to gather intelligence and wield it in their defence.

He’d failed. And Yunmeng had fallen.

A strangled noise leaves Jiang Yanli’s throat.

“A-Xian, no,” she says. “No, A-Xian, there is nothing to forgive. Please, get up—”

She reaches for his hands, tugging at them to make him stand, but he remains resolutely prostrate.

“Gongzhu-dianxia, this guilty subject does not dare.”

Her hands tighten around his almost painfully for a moment before she sighs, her whole body sagging with the movement.

“You did everything you could,” she tells him. When he goes to deny it, she squeezes his hand again. “Look at me.” He reluctantly raises his head and sees her looking back at him with a tremble in the firm line of her mouth. “A-Xian, I would be dead—or perhaps worse—if not for you. You saved me.”

He presses his lips together in a hard line, his breath heavy through his nose as he struggles to keep the tears at bay.

“I could have done more,” he whispers. “I could have—”

“You did everything you could,” she repeats firmly. “A-Xian, there was nothing more you could have done. Not under those circumstances.”

A raw, wounded noise tears itself from his throat, through his tightly closed lips.

“I should have realised the reports were false,” he argues, hands twisting in the fabric of his robes. “I should have verified them personally, I—”

She takes his face between her hands, shocking him into silence.

There are new lines on her face, around her eyes and mouth, that hadn’t been there before; she’s older, he realises, and has had to fend for herself for many years. The Jiang Yanli before him now glows with health and vigour, dressed in the thick, coarse garments of the northern border tribes rather than the silks of the capital—a far cry from the sheltered princess from Yunmeng she had been in their youth. Her hands, still so small against his cheek, are rough and callused from hard labour.

“A-Xian, you did everything you could,” she repeats firmly. “It is in the past. Do not blame yourself any longer. Alright?”

He closes his eyes with a shuddering sigh.

And then he’s falling forward into Jiang Yanli’s waiting arms with an aborted cry, clutching at the back of her heavy cloak desperately. Her scent is different—the lotus blossoms replaced by something earthier and less floral—and the arms she wraps around him are stronger, the hug firmer than what he remembers. But the way her fingers run through his hair, the warmth of her body, the way she envelopes him in her embrace despite the difference in stature—there is no mistaking it. He would know it anywhere.

“Jiejie.” He’s repeating himself, over and over again, the way he has not done since they were children and it was still allowed. This is not a dream. “Jiejie, jiejie, jiejie—”

“A-Xian.” Jiang Yanli laughs, her voice thick with tears. “Oh, A-Xian, I’m so glad you’re alive. I’ve missed you so.”

He’s missed her too. There are no words to describe how much he’s missed her. So he just holds her tighter, buries his face in her shoulder as they sink to their knees in the middle of the study floor. He’s dimly aware of movement around them—the servants, perhaps, or Lan Wangji, stepping away to give them some privacy—but he doesn’t acknowledge them, overwhelmed by the fact that Jiang Yanli is here, in his arms, safe and sound after so many years.

“Fourteen years…” She pulls away, running her hands over his hair and face as she does, drinking in the sight of him. “A-Xian, you’ve lost weight.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.” He leans into the hand resting on his cheek. “You look good, Jiejie. You haven’t changed at all.”

It’s her turn to shake her head, falling so easily into their familiar banter as she admonishes him for lying.

“Nonsense. Look at me.” She sits back on her heels and raises her arms to show off the travel-worn garb beneath her heavy cloak. “I’m just a humble farmer’s wife now.”

At the word ‘wife’, Wei Wuxian is suddenly reminded they are not alone. His attention is drawn to the doorway where Jin Zixuan stands with his arm around a boy of no more than ten. Gone are the fine, embroidered silks and gilded jewels signature to the Crown Prince of Lanling. Instead, both are dressed in the same thick, northern-style robes as Jiang Yanli, both with the same broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin and matching vermilion marks between their brows. Jin Zixuan offers him a nod when their eyes meet.

“Wei Wuxian, it’s been a while.” After a moment, he hastily corrects himself and bows. “My apologies, I did not mean any disrespect. Jin Zixuan greets Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei.”

“Taizi—Jin-gongzi.” Wei Wuxian corrects himself quickly, returning his greeting with a short bow. “There is no need for such formality. It is good to see you all well.”

He is surprised to find he means it sincerely; there was no such goodwill the last time they had crossed paths, young and foolhardy as they were. But those days are long past. Gone is the spoilt young prince who had spurned the woman he regarded as a sister, buried beneath the cold ashes of a war that took everything from them in one fell swoop. This Jin Zixuan is a husband, a father, who had done the unthinkable—renouncing his claim to the throne of Lanling to search for Jiang Yanli without knowing whether or not she was even alive—and had been rewarded for his devotion.

Jiang Cheng, ah, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian thinks. I think even you would hold a bit of respect for him now.

Jin Zixuan’s eyes shift to Lan Wangji, standing silently behind Wei Wuxian, and offers a deeper bow, which Lan Wangji returns with an incline of his head. Jiang Yanli follows suit from where she is still on her knees with Wei Wuxian, bowing low at the waist.

“Jiang Yanli greets Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei,” she echoes. “Thank you for taking care of A-Xian. Yunmeng owes you a great debt.”

Before either of them can react to dispute her claim, she turns to beckon the boy—her son, Wei Wuxian’s heart leaps with realisation—closer with one hand, dabbing at her eyes with the sleeve of the other. She draws the boy closer, turns him to face both Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji with a warm smile and a comforting hand on his back. The boy looks up at them with something akin to awe in his eyes.

“A-Ling, come and pay respects to Wangye and Wangfei,” she tells him. “They are our family’s benefactors. Without their help, we would not be here today, so we must repay this debt however we can.”

“Yes, A-Niang.” Jin Ling steps away from his mother, squaring his little shoulders in a way that reminds Wei Wuxian of his father when they had first met, trying to put on an air of importance despite his small stature; he clasps his fingers in front of his chest and performs a textbook-perfect bow from the waist. “Jin Ling pays respects to Hanguang-wangye, Hanguang-wangfei.”

Wei Wuxian looks back at Lan Wangji, helpless in the face of their collective insistence, and sees the corner of Lan Wangji’s lips twitch. He sighs in defeat.

“Jin-xiao-gongzi,” he says, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Your mother’s family took me in when my parents passed, kept the roof over my head and the clothes on my back. Without them, I would not be here today. Whatever debt there is between us, let us wipe the slate clean now and start anew.”

He sees Lan Wangji incline his head in agreement, eyes soft as he holds out a hand to help him to his feet. His arm is warm and steady around his waist, his hand firm in his, holding him upright as he works to calm the storm of emotions warring within his chest. Finally, he gives the hand in his a brief squeeze and turns back to their guests with a bright smile.

“Now, let’s dispense with all this formality,” he says. “You must be tired from your journey—you must stay with us, here in Hanguang Manor. In fact, I insist upon it.”

Jiang Yanli exchanges a quick look with her husband.

“We do not wish to—” Wei Wuxian clears his throat pointedly, and Jiang Yanli falters mid-sentence, pauses and acquiesces with an amused sigh. “Then it would be impolite of us to decline such a generous offer.”

Translations

Gongzhu-dianxia (公主殿下) - Your Highness, the Princess

wangfei (王妃) - consort to the Duke, his legitimate wife/spouse

Notes

Approximately a billion years later!!!!

WWX called JYL jiejie as a child, before they got older and it was inappropriate to do so, after which he sometimes called her shijie in private, but mostly addressed her as Gongzhu-dianxia in public.

Any errors or inconsistencies will...be addressed at some point. It’s been a while and I need to revisit some things to remind myself what’s happened >_>

buy me a ko-fi!

more shattered mirrors fic | verse

#mdzs #wangxian #my writing #shattered mirrors fic #shattered mirrors au #lan wangji #wei wuxian #王爷机 X 花魁羡 #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #jin ling #🥢#wei wuxian arc #this got long #and i gave up trying to make it coherent #my brain is not working after the second pfizer dose

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rodolfo9999 · 3 years

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I read the English version of "Long good bye" by Raymond Chandler. If you don't like spoilers, please read the Japanese version first.

Philip Marlowe, a private detective, gets drunk one day and brings home Terry Lennox, who was left in a bar by his wife. He was badly injured in the war. When he woke up, he thanked her and left, but later his wife divorced him and saved him from the hands of the cops when he was drunk and unmasked on the streets again. Terry borrowed money from Marlowe and left for Vegas to look for work, where he got back together with his wealthy ex-wife, Sylvia.

One day, Terry came to my office for a visit. He invited Marlowe for a drink at a quiet bar. They drove in Terry's luxurious car to a bar called Victor's, where Terry shared his knowledge of gimlets. They have several cocktail hours together. On the last day that Marlowe and Terry drink, they visit the bar a little early. Terry tells the story.

"I like bars just after they open for the evening. When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny and the barkeep is giving himself that last When the air inside is still cool and clean and everything is shiny and the barkeep is giving himself that last look in the mirror to see if his tie is straight and his hair is smooth."

"I like to watch the man mix the first one of the evening and put it down on a crisp mat and the little folded napkin beside it. I like to taste it slowly. The first quiet drink of the evening in a quiet bar- that's wonderful."

It's good. It was a hard-boiled bar argument. After that, there was a slight altercation and Marlowe left Terry, but Terry came to Marlowe's house again in the early morning. He comes to Marlowe's house early in the morning, shivering and carrying a gun. 。。。。。 But there was no trace of the gun having been fired. He asks her to take him to Tijuana, Mexico. From there, he says, he will take a plane and run away somewhere. His wife had been murdered in the garage. He had seen a man with his wife before that. Marlowe did him a favor.

After Terry escaped, Marlow was arrested by the police. When he was finally released, the cops told Marlowe that Terry had died, leaving behind a confession. Marlowe received a letter from Terry. Marlowe received a visit from Spencer, a novel publisher. He told her that there was a problem with her best-selling author, Roger Wade. He said that as a result of his drunkenness, he had thrown his wife Irene down the stairs, seriously injuring her with broken ribs. Then the incredibly beautiful Irene herself appeared and asked Marlowe to find her missing husband. The clue was the name "Dr. V" left by Wade.

Marlowe visits a detective agency he knows and uses their database. In Los Angeles, there were three doctors with the initial V, which had a reputation for illegally treating alcoholic patients. Marlowe goes through them in order, but Wade is nowhere to be found. However, Marlowe suspects a doctor named Bellinger. He is living in a defunct sanatorium with a crazy cowboy named Earl. Wade's wife remembered that Wade, who was also missing at the time, had been driven home by a young cowboy.

Marlowe had visited Beringer's sanatorium late at night and had found Wade there. Marlowe retrieved Wade from Bellinger and Earl's hands. But Wade is struggling with something. Linda Loring showed up at the right moment, and she was Sylvia Lennox's sister. She and her husband attend Wade's party, and her husband, Dr. Loring, warns Wade to leave his wife alone. Wade says and does some disturbing things, and eventually calls Marlowe and causes a fist-suicide. In the middle of the night, Eileen seduces Marlowe by telling him that she once had a lover, who is dead, but she still dreams about him. Eileen seduces Marlowe by telling him that she once had a lover and that he is dead but she still dreams about him. The Wades are vague about Terry, whether they know it or not.

Linda shows up at the office and brings up the subject of Terry. She said that Sylvia had other men in her life and that Wade was on the list. When Linda insisted that Wade was the killer, Marlowe asked what that had to do with you. Linda didn't answer and told Marlowe to come to her house for tea. Is Harlan Potter, the famous wealthy father, waiting for you there? Marlow asked, and Linda agreed.

Marlowe confronts Harlan Potter. Potter threatened Marlowe to withdraw from the case to protect his privacy. But Marlowe refused to give in. At the same time, Marlowe received a call from a man in New York. Marlowe received a call from a man in New York who told him that Terry was living in New York under a different name, Paul Marston. Marlowe called the police and found out that there was no record of Terry's military service at all.

Later, Marlowe was called by Wade. He was barefaced and was working on a novel. But when Marlowe questioned him about Terry's alias, he fell back into drinking. When Marlowe returned to the Wade house after a day at the lake, his wife, Irene, who had been out, came home. When he went to check on Wade, he found him dead with a gunshot wound to the head. Eileen blames Marlowe for Wade's death. However, Marlowe and Spencer, a publisher in New York who was the original client for the Wade case, visit Irene and take out a document. There was a shocking revelation: 。。。。

At first glance, the case seemed to be settled. However, Marlowe ignores the warnings of everyone involved and exposes the case to the media in order to clear Terry's name. After managing to overcome the repercussions that naturally ensue, Marlowe invites Linda Loring to join him for a glass of champagne. After various conflicts with Linda, Marlowe spends the night with her. After she leaves, Marlowe reminisces as follows

To say goodbye is to die a little.

Finally, a mysterious Mexican appears. All the mysteries are revealed, but Marlowe rejects him by uttering that famous line. Marlowe was the only one who believed in his friend's innocence and was trying to protect his honor. And yet, he just couldn't forgive the man for being a moral loser, could he?

"You bought a lot of me, Terry. For a smile and a nod and a wave of the hand and a few quiet drinks in a quiet bar here and there. It was nice while it lasted. So long, I won't say goodbye. I said it to you when it meant something. I said it when it was sad and lonely and final."

And Marlowe concluded the story with this.

"I never saw any of them again-except the cops. No way has been invented to say goodbye to them."

I have wanted to read this story in the original for many years. My dream has finally come true. After all, a masterpiece is forever a masterpiece.

ロング・グッドバイ

#mystery #raymondchandler #mydailylife

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

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Gold (Spideypool)(One)

A commission for @paranormalmoonlight5 and @pumpkin-spidey who wanted a reverse-ish Little Mermaid AU ft. Mer!Peter and Prince!Wade. I prefer my mer’s to be man eating and vicious, but I settled for sappy sweet, over the top dramatic, and soulmate-y this time around!

Applicable warnings: Wade almost drowns, there is mentions of eating people (honestly what do you expect from my mermaids?) and an attempt at nekkidness.

PART TWO

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

Three months the Prince had been gone from his home.

It was a sea journey of ten days to visit a neighboring territory with the intent of striking an alliance and quieting the murmurs of unrest and war between the people. The negotiations had stretched weeks, fruitless and ultimately pointless, going round and round with the same arguments and senseless disagreements, neither side willing to budge but both demanding the other yield.

War had crept closer with every disjointed summit, despair had tinged the last of the conditions and pleas and when all was said and done, the Prince was returning home having failed to secure a truce, and needing to ready his men for the coming conflict.

King Thomas would not be pleased, but Wade didn’t care much about his father’s wishes. The younger Prince Francis should have been sent to find a truce, it was well known that Wade was a warrior not a politician, a fighter not a peace seeker, a Prince better suited to life outside the castle walls than one spent inside with finery and fawning dignitaries and the search for a husband or wife to sit beside him on the throne.

But the King’s wishes couldn’t be ignored, so for three months Wade had given up his swords and armor to sit through negotiations and wagers for peace. Three months of endless banal pleasantries and asinine small talk, suffering the attentions of ladies-and-men in waiting who vied for his attention, for his bed, for his desire. Put upon manners to impress strangers and politely but firmly worded rejections of whispered offers.

Insufferable, all of it.

Wade wanted nothing to do with court affairs that were laughter and kisses at dusk, then anger and drama at dawn. The Prince had no one waiting at home for him, nor a lover at one of the oft visited ports, and Wade considered himself lucky to be missing the trouble.

Though handsome, the Prince had never been one to take casual lovers, and though his blue eyes and blond hair brought to mind Adonis, he had never attempted to pursue a more permanent relationship. There was no one who caught Wade’s eye or stirred his lust, and after the desire and experimentation of youth, those urges had mostly fallen away all together.

Not for lack of want, but for lack of interest. If Wade could find someone that woke his heart, perhaps then desire would spark but until then he slept alone, went through his days alone, and in the quietest moments before dawn, when the world was still and there was nothing but the sound of the ocean beyond his windows, the Prince’s soul ached for something he couldn’t quite understand.

The weeks and months away had only amplified Wade’s misery, and the misery had turned to abject loneliness. The days stuffed into ridiculous clothing and forced to attend society events under the guise of courting favor with an ally. The hours spent doing nothing while men who would never understand war talked of soldier’s lives and the cost of ruined countryside. The letters from King Thomas demanding updates and encouraging specific action. The quiet sneers from those gathered who knew Wade was sent to do a job out of his depth, the mocking disdain from others who saw a soldier and not a Royal, a pretty face and empty, disinterested eyes.

And Wade was both empty and disinterested, which is why with three months gone and no peace achieved, he now stood at the railing of the ship Sister Margaret and stared up into a blackening, stormy sky and wondered if the gods would grant him reprieve enough to cause them to be lost.

Perhaps he and the sailors could wander to a distant shore, wind up somewhere different than where his life was headed. Wade’s soul ached with the need to run, to escape, to throw himself from the ship and strike out on his own because every shift in the wind that steered him home felt like the snap of a manacle tightening round his wrist.

The Prince stood at the railing and silently begged the skies to change the course of his fate, and as the night darkened and the moon hid behind roiling clouds, the skies listened.

The first of many winter storms chose tonight to unleash it’s fury, bearing down on the Sister Margaret with all the force of a hurricane, tearing the ships sails to tatters and battering the hull to and fro in ever rising waves. A crewman was lost over the edge as the Sister Margaret heaved dangerously in the surf, another taken with a scream when a main beam cracked and split and after a terrifying moment fell and swept the deck with it’s length before crashing into the sea.

Lightning cut jagged through the sky and thunder pitched low and furious, shaking the men to their very bones and rattling the teeth in their heads. Those whose fright outweighed their common sense ran below for dubious shelter from the sideways rains, those who had sailed through storms before tied themselves to the remaining masts with quick release knots in case the ship started to go under.

Wade held onto the railing until his knuckles were white, eyes wide as he searched the lightning lit seas for rocks, for land, for anything that could be their savior or something else that would be their certain doom. He’d prayed for a different course and wished for a change in the winds but he’d only meant for a respite from his responsibilities and the shackles of a royal life. Not this, not a storm, not the durability of his ship and the fate of his men held at the mercy of a furious sea, not death as an escape, not the horrors of drowning and the agony of being crushed by the depths.

No, the Prince had only wanted some time to find the answer to what was clawing at his soul, he had never wanted--

-- “Rocks of the starboard side! To port! To port! Brace yourself!”--

--the Sister Margaret shredded herself on the jagged peaks of jutting rocks, her sides splitting and the water roaring as it rushed to fill her hull. The screams of men huddled below were lost beneath the pitch of thunder, the scramble of footsteps as sailors ran for the other side of the ship rang dully in Wade’s ears as he watched the sails rend from the mast rings and fall to the deck as a death shroud.

The entire ship heaved, twisted and thrown by an errant wave and Wade’s grasp at the railing slipped and failed, his body tossed into the air as if it were no consequence, the surface of the sea like glass where it burned and bruised as he hit the water and then slid under and in just those few seconds, Wade’s wish for his fates to be altered was effectively, brutally, granted.

I don’t want to die.

The water was shockingly cold and inky black. Lightning cut across the sky and illuminated the Sister Margaret as her holds splintered and the ocean took her apart. It flashed in the eyes of desperate sailors as they swam for the rocks, for the shore, for anything that wasn’t death. The wind howled and muted Wade’s hoarse shout as his heavy coat dragged him under the surf and boots filled with frigid water, dragging him down and down and down.

The rocks meant they were close enough to shore to almost be home, to almost be safe, so close yet so far, near enough to be tempting, far enough to be damning and Wade was sinking.

I don’t want to die.

It wasn’t easy for him to admit to being afraid, not easy for a Prince and a soldier to admit to being scared but as the dark clouds spilt rain like ice and the sea stormed, Wade sank and he was frightened to his very core.

I don’t want to die.

His brain was screaming for oxygen, his lungs fighting the urge to breathe and Wade clawed towards the surface-- towards what he thought was the surface-- as another wave crashed over his head and sent him spinning, another piece of debris from the ship cut into his midsection and made him wheeze, another wash of water pummeled him and Wade tasted salt water on his tongue, down his throat, burning into his stomach and seizing up his airways.

I don’t want to die.

The water was glacial and the Prince’s body was leaden, sluggish as he drifted down, eyes blurred as he stared through the dark to find the last lights from the Sister Margaret as she staggered to stay upright but couldn’t stop from sliding under.

I’m going to die.

It was a moment of near delirium as Wade clung to the last shreds of self control to keep from breathing the briny wash, it was a jolt of sheer panic as the Prince found one last dreg of strength to kick up up, it was a blink of his spirit hovering between death and life and in that one eternal second, Wade thought he saw eyes looking back at him.

Eyes bright golden in the fathomless depths. A flash of sharp teeth behind dark red lips. A dust of glitter on bare skin and webbed fingers reaching reaching, claws scraping scraping and dragging him down.

And in the swirling currents before darkness rushed in and ended his life, the Prince swore he heard a song, haunting and sweet and hypnotic and his own soul soul shifted and yearned, burned bright and tried to answer--

--above the surface the last piece of the Sister Margaret slipped below the waves into the empty beneath--

--and the Prince saw nothing more, heard nothing more, became nothing more as the sea took him as its own.

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

“Wake up, sailor.” The voice was coaxing and melodic, the brush of fingers at Wade’s cheek somehow both feather soft and razor sharp all at the same time. “The afternoon sun will bake you dry and it would be such a pity to ruin your lovely skin.”

Music. Wade still tasted ocean at the back of his throat and clogging fear low in his stomach but all he could think about was music, a haunting melody swirling round his ears and settling in his heart and lighting behind his eyes like sunshine. Music.

“P--pretty--” the Prince croaked, lips chapped and tongue thick from dehydration, limbs unresponsive and eyes crusted shut from the ocean spray. “G-gold--”

“Yes, I’m very pretty.” Came a teasing answer. “And my eyes turn very gold, but you couldn’t possibly know that unless you open your eyes, so why don’t you wake up all the way and see me?”

“Open….” Wade was still lost, his body adrift as if he was still spinning in the waves, his lungs burning like he was still drowning but he sucked in a painful breath all the same, forced his mouth to open and pull in oxygen sweet oxygen to bring his too raw senses back to coherence one by one.

First there was pain-- scrapes and cuts stinging from salt water, a pattern of bruises no doubt blooming purple and blue along his back and side. Dimly, only dimly Wade remembered being thrown from the Sister Margaret and dropping into the stormy sea and the abrupt hit explained the way it hurt to breathe. He'd most likely broken a rib hitting the water so hard, or it might have been a bruised rib that cracked when a piece of the Sister Margaret had slammed into him in the melee.

Either way he hurt, Wade hurt from the bottom of his bootless feet clear to the migraine pounding behind his eyes and after the initial pain came a wash of panic, of fear. What had happened to his men? To the rest of the ship? What of King Thomas who was expecting him home, what of the failed negotiations and the potentially impending war? How far from home was he, and had anyone survived the ship sinking?

...had Wade survived the ship sinking? He heard music through his mind and yet everything hurt. Was this an illusion? A hallucination? Was the Prince wavering in some moment between living and death and this was something of a purgatory?

“I can almost hear you thinking.” Another touch at Wade's temple that was both infinitely soft and wholly dangerous, the fine edge of what felt like a claw down Wade's jawline and calloused fingertips at his cheek. “What is on your mind, my love?”

“...my—my--”

“I pulled you from the waves.” The voice was closer now, sunshine and warmth and music on the Prince's scattered thought process. “Most of your men survived clinging to the debris from the ship. Some succumbed to my sisters, others were left to the sharks, but I saved you.”

Wade tried and tried and tried to open his eyes, forced the lagging lids to part and blinked into a too bright sun as he tried to see who or what was at his side.

“If you were anyone else I would think about eating you.” Wade's savior giggled, and it was almost terrifying in it's beauty. “But you're far too good looking for that. It would be a shame to rid the world of someone so lovely because I wanted to bite you, and once I got closer and saw you, I couldn't do it.”

“B--Bite me?” Wade licked his lips and struggled to focus, his vision clearing enough to make out a hazy form leaning over him. “You-- you were going to bite me?”

“I was going to devour you.” the creature corrected with a smile that glinted fanged and sharp and almost fond. “But then I heard you, truly heard you, and I had to know you instead.”

“That’s-- that’s good.” Wade inhaled shakily, dragged the air in through salt burned lungs and grimaced when every molecule of oxygen stung. “That’s um-- I don’t want to be devoured.”

“Are you what they call a Prince Charming?” The creature tilted his head and tapped a delicate claw along with the rhythm of Wade's heart beat. “I’ve heard them talk about ones like you. Handsome. Brave. Trying to conquer the world and sailing your ships through the sea as if you own it. A ridiculous idea, you don’t own the waves anymore than you own the wind but you like to think it, don’t you?”

“You’ve heard who talk about it?” Wade leaned up onto his elbows, shifted sideways with a painful wheeze so the creature’s head was blocking out most of the sun and he could actually see. “What do you mean they call me a Prince Charming? Who are they?”

“The humans, of course.” they answered, and then, “Let me help your eyes, my love. Hold still.”

My love?

Wade only had enough time to wonder why the creature kept calling him my love before a cold palm with oddly webbed fingers covered his eyes. It was suddenly warm and suddenly bright and the Prince gasped and flinched away partly in surprise, partly in fear, but the creature only laughed soft again and used the hand at Wade's chest to hold him still with near unbelievable strength.

“Just a moment, just a moment, just a moment, I know this burns.” they whispered. “I know this burns but I'll be gentle afterwards, I promise. My mate, I promise I'll be gentle, just a moment...”

My love, my mate, gentle. The words were blurry in Wade's mind, blurry like his vision and sluggish like the way his fingers still felt numb and his limbs felt so heavy and the Prince thought maybe he could sleep-- maybe he could drown-- if it weren't for the music wrapping low and soothing through his psyche and reverberating against the pressure of the creature's hands on his body.

My love, my mate, gentle--

--and then Wade could see.

“Oh.” he gasped and jerked up right to sitting when his vision suddenly cleared, the headache gone and the ache in his core easing. “Oh fu—fu--what did you did you? What did you do?”

“I healed you.” Came the simple answer. “Some of us can heal, others only harm but all of us can help our mates if needed. You needed me, so I helped you.”

“You-- you helped me.” the Prince wiped at his mouth and shook his head until the last of the cobwebs cleared and he could see.

Wade could see and all he could see was otherworldly beauty-- sun bronzed skin and bare shoulders dusted with ethereal glitter, gold flecked eyes and hair tumbling in loose curls, temptingly pink lips and hooked fangs that glinted sunlight in a knowing smile. Claws and webbed fingers, strong arms and a distractingly defined abdomen that led to a narrow waist and lean hips and a-- a tail.

Mother of the gods, the creature had a tail.

“You’re a mermaid.” Wade croaked. “You’re a mermaid-- mer-- merman. Mer--”

“I’m a mer, yes.” The water by Wade’s leg splashed beneath it’s tail and the creature wrinkled his nose teasingly when Wade's jaw dropped. “Some of your people call us mermen, others call us sirens or water nymphs.”

A smile that was dangerous in its intent. “Those we eat call us monsters, but those cries and accusations never last long once the water turns bloody.”

“No I--” Wade gripped at the rocky sand beneath his fingers anxiously. “No, I suppose they don’t. You-- you don’t want to eat me though. I’m all muscle, no fat. I’d be tough and stringy.”

“All muscle?” the mer cocked a curious eyebrow then pressed those webbed fingers to feel along the Prince’s chest, down his abdomen and across the shifting muscles and down lower to drag a clawed finger along the dip at Wade’s hip bone. “Ah. I see. Mmmmmm.”

The noise was almost hypnotic, sort of a moan and nearly a purr and despite his fatigue and near death experience, every line in Wade’s body tightened, surged, and he heard the echo of music in his soul all over again.

“God.” His nervousness was forgotten as his heart rate skyrocketed, a surge of arousal as much a relief as it was foreign. When was the last time he had wanted anyone, and why did this creature stir him so? “God, I think I’d let you bite me just to hear you make that noise again.”

“Don’t tempt me.” The mer’s delighted laugh was like bells, like wind chimes and like the songs from the temples that echoed across the hills and it shook Wade to his core, made his next breath hitch like he was drunk as the mer inched closer, then closer again until their noses nearly met and the gold in it’s eyes gleamed. “I want to know you. Tell me your name, Prince Charming.”

“My name is Wade.” They were close now, Wade sitting up on his elbows and the mer still leaning over him, close enough that Wade could see the swirls of color in the mer's eyes and count the fan of his lashes. “Prince Royal Wade Wilson of the Eastern Kingdom. I am King Thomas's first born and Lieutenant General of his troops, venturer onto the sea and apparently--”

Wade looked down at his body, at his missing boots and torn pants, shredded, sodden shirt and his feet and calves still dangling in the water. “--apparently someone who washes up nearly naked on the shore.”

The mer laughed again, eyes lighting brilliantly happy at Wade's sense of humour and the Prince cleared his throat a few times before asking, “What's your name?”

“You couldn't pronounce it.” he shrugged half heartedly, one slim shoulder rising and falling with the motion. “But the closest to your language would be Peter, so you can call me Peter.”

“Peter.” Wade repeated, and the mer actually shuddered over it, tail twitching and fingers flexing at Wade's abdomen. “...Pete?”

“Yes.” Pete sighed and settled a little tighter to Wade's frame. “Mmmm, hearing my name on your mouth is lovely. Say it again.”

Again. Wade cleared his throat. “P—Pete. Why did you save me?”

“Because I heard your soul.” Peter smoothed his palm down Wade's chest again, pink tongue slipping distractingly over his teeth. “We heard the screams of your men so my sisters and I came to see what could be salvaged from the wreck, but when you hit the water the very currents changed their direction and brought your song to me. I had to find you.”

And then softer, the beautiful features shuttering and falling sad. “I didn't expect to find a human floating beneath the waves, but I had to save you anyway.”

“You heard my soul? My song?” the Prince couldn't stop staring at the glint of the sharp fangs behind the mer's lips. “What-- what does that mean?”

“Your heart song.” Peter said again. “Your soul cried out for me when the ocean took you, so I came to save you.”

The mer added softer, almost nervously, “You didn't hear mine when you fell? When the water came up over your ears, you didn't hear my song calling back to you?”

Wade thought back to the moments where he thought he was dying, how his boots had filled with water and his coat had dragged him down and then there'd been golden eyes and reaching fingers and--

--and music.

“The music in the storm.” he whispered. “That was you?”

“You heard it.” Peter smiled again, pleased and so beautiful it took Wade's breath away. “When I saw you were mortal, I was afraid you wouldn't hear the melody, but whether you did or not, I had to save you. I took your jacket and your boots so you wouldn't drown and brought you here where the wind is buffered by the rocks until you woke up. Safe.”

“You took care of me?”

“I just wanted to see you.” Peter touched Wade just lightly, pushed apart what was left of Wade's shirt and bared his skin to the late morning sky. “You were asleep for so long and I kept watch so the others wouldn't come and drag you back into the sea to tear you apart. I wanted to make sure you were safe and I thought I'd leave when you woke, but I—I couldn't.”

The mer seemed almost sad as he spread webbed fingers over Wade's navel and lowered his head to rest his forehead over Wade's heart. “I should go now. It must have been a fluke, a moment where your soul wasn't quite human and your heart song reached for me. A mer and a human cannot be together, so now that I know you're safe, I'll leave you be.”

Peter pushed away from Wade's body, pushed himself back into the water until he was submerged up to his chin, only his fingers hooked around Wade's ankle and holding fast.

“Go well, Prince Charming.” the mer whispered, then took a deep breath and opened his mouth to sing a siren song of forgetfulness--

– “Wait.” Wade lunged after Peter, scrambled towards the water and fell into up to his chest when his legs didn't want to quite work right. “Wait, Pete wait.”

“My love, don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” The water barely rippled when Peter moved, the mer so graceful even as he swam backwards that the sea surface remained glassy smooth. “This song will make you forget, and when you wake again you won't know me at all. You're safe and I should leave you--”

“What does it mean that I heard your song?!” Wade burst out, grabbing fruitlessly at the water, at Peter's form as the mer slid further away. “What does that mean? I can feel it right here.” he pushed at his own chest, at his heart. “Feel it in my soul, where I’ve never felt anything at all so what does it mean?”

Peter swallowed, gills on his neck flicking open once, twice, but he didn't answer and Wade persisted, “For years I've been searching for something to fill this gap right here in my soul. It’s like I’m empty but nothing fills it. I've never found love and I've never wanted to try searching for it. I wage war but not even the battle lust soothes me. I can't stay home alone with nothing and no one and no idea of what I'm looking for, it will drive me mad. Tell me what it means that I heard your heart song.”

Softer, almost pleading. “Tell me.”

The mer paused, waited and Wade reached his hands out desperately, wanting or needing or-- or something. “Please.”

And finally, “Put your hands on the water like this.” Peter took a deep breath and flattened his palms to the surface of the water. “Hold yourself still and wait for the music to come to you on the currents. We are soulmates, you and I. Hold yourself still and let the seas tell you the truth.”

Wade copied the mer’s movements, spreading his fingers wide and setting them just gently on the barely there waves, holding his breath and waiting--

Melody filling Wade's ears and echoing in his mind, magical and mystical and spiraling home home home, wrapping around his body and washing over his soul, filtering through his heart and echoing through his mind and Wade was running, running for Peter before he could stop himself, stumbling through the waves and almost going under when his feet slipped on the rocks and scraped along the coral as he ran for his soulmate.

“Don't leave me.” They met in a crash of lips, Peter's strength keeping them easily afloat when Wade fell into him, mouths meeting and breath gasping and hands holding tight lest the other one slip away. “Don't leave me.” Wade choked out. “God, I have to know you.”

“They say it's like this sometimes.” Peter scraped his nails down Wade's back and hooked his fingers into the Prince's hips to drag him in tight, beat his tail in the water to keep them steady so he could feel everything about his soulmate up against his body. “When a human soul slips between life and death, in that moment they are ours, our soulmate, but only in that moment. Never more. It isn't meant to be. You and I aren't meant to be and that's why I should have left you before now.”

Peter made a halfhearted attempt to move away, to extricate himself from Wade's grip though the mer was holding just as fast. “I should have left you before now, my love and I’m sorry I’m making this more difficult for you.”

“Don't go.” Wade was starving, dehydrated, aching and the only thing that soothed him was the taste of soulmate on his mer's lips. “No no no, don't go. Pete, you're who I've been searching for my entire life. Soulmate. Kiss me. Kiss me.”

“Just once more.” Peter whispered. “Just once more then I must go.”

The kiss was drugging, heart crushing and soul stirring. On and on it went as Wade drifted further into the currents and Peter kept him buoyant, the sea lapping higher around their shoulders until it was till their necks, higher still until it brushed their chins and mixed salt water into their kisses. Peter shifted against his body and purred soft and sweet, the noise so close to heaven that Wade had to jerk away to take in a deep breath--

--and then he was drowning.

Wade went under, lungs full of water and body dragging down, mind rushing from the kiss, from the knowledge of his soulmate, skin tingling as fresh cuts were re-submerged and hands reaching always reaching for the one that had finally called him home.

I could drown. The Prince thought as black spots danced before his eyes. I could drown and find a place beside my soulmate forever.

I could drown.

He was drowning.

“Oh my love, I'm so sorry!” Peter cried out in alarm when Wade slipped below the surface and sank. The mer angled his body and dove down into the murky water until he could get his arms around his mate and bring the Prince back to air, cradling Wade carefully so his claws wouldn’t pierce the fragile skin and driving them both back towards the safety of sand and rock so Wade could breathe.

“So sorry, my love.” Peter bent over Wade’s still form and pulled the water from the humans lungs with one quick breath, put his hand to the Prince’s stomach and coaxed the water out with one solid push. “I got carried away and you nearly drowned, so sorry. Please wake up. Please wake up.”

Wade woke with a cough, jerked back from unconsciousness with a strangled sort of gasp, reached for Peter before he was even aware he was moving, grasping for his soulmate even though only a few minutes ago he hadn’t known soulmates existed.

“Pete.”

“I’m so sorry.” The mer’s eyes were shifting electric gold and the deepest, richest brown with sorrow and worry. “Wade, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to let you go. I wanted to swim with you but I forgot-- I’m sorry--”

“No no don’t be sorry, just come back. Come back.” Wade surged up and wrapped his arms around Peter again, dragged the mer down on top of his body and kissed the cool lips until Peter was purring against his mouth and trilling in his ear, fangs catching on his bottom lip and claws dragging red lines in his skin.

It was like the sweetest aphrodisia kissing Peter, like the honeyed mead Wade had drank along the islands pouring down his throat, like the smoke of the poppy plant when it burned heavy and thick in the air of the secret places in the city.

Drugging.

Soulmates, and it was the answer to every question the Prince had ever had, every moment when he had felt out of place in the palace, trapped by his father's words and penned in by his duties, by his expectations, by the rules.

Soulmates and it was hard to care about which men might have survived the storm, about the Sister Margaret in pieces on the ocean floor, about whether he was dying from dehydration, or hovering on the cusp of some near death experience and tipping wildly towards unalive.

They were soulmates, and Wade would have taken dehydration and death over having to stop running eager hands over Peter's back and down to where flawless skin transformed into silk smooth scales. Peter's tail was gorgeous, layers of dark red shot through with royal blue webbing that went from his hips clear down to the nearly translucent tail that flipped against the water in a steady, meaningful pattern, beating a drummed in rhythm into Wade's heart that felt like-- felt like--

“My love.” Peter whispered, and there was a cut of fangs at Wade's earlobe before nimble fingers skated over the front of his trousers, working at the clasp and pushing them aside to track gently gently over the hard ridge of his cock.

“Oh.” Wade's head snapped back against the rocks but the mer caught him with a quiet laugh, cradled his head in one large palm and held him steady so he didn't hurt himself. “Oh-h-h Pete--”

Yes, that was what it felt like, what the constant shift and hit of Peter's red and blue tail sounded like, what the ripple of water and push push push and the way the mer's hips ground into Wade's side reminded him of. It felt like strokes and heated touches and purposefully slick slides against a willing, welcoming body and it felt like--

“Settle, soulmate.” Peter purred into his ear when Wade cursed and thrust up into the mer's palm. “Oh you're gorgeous, I knew you would be gorgeous.” He mouthed hungry kisses and near bites down Wade's throat, massaged firmer at his cock until it jerked and throbbed in his fingers, spilled milky white over his knuckles and made the next stroke easier. “I knew you would be perfect, so responsive for me, my Prince Charming.”

“Don't stop.” Wade had never wanted anyone so badly in his life, the Prince had maybe never wanted anyone in his life, not like this, not when it felt like his very center was trying to claw it's way out of his chest to mingle with his mer.

Not meant to be, Peter had whispered mournfully. I had to know you but we are not meant to be.

But no, Wade couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it. It wasn't possible to need to know someone the way he needed to know Peter and they weren't meant to be?

It wasn't possible.

“I want you.” he rasped and Peter's tongue wound tempting and knowing along his collarbone, down Wade's chest until fangs pricked over his nipple in a dangerous, tempting spark. “God, Pete I want you.”

Peter shuddered again hearing his name on his soulmate's tongue. They weren't meant to be and he should have left before now but the mer was weak, he was weak for every inch of his Prince Charming, he was weak for the press of Wade's hands at his back and the way sparks lit bright behind his eyes when calloused fingers teased the junction of skin and scales, he was weak for the way Wade practically growled as he shifted and widened his knees so Peter could lay closer between his thighs.

His Prince was achingly hard, pre-come leaking from the tip of his cock as Peter stroked him slowly, almost idly, no real rush to the motion because just having his soulmate in his hand was enough. After years and years of wandering the ocean currents listening for the heart song that called to his entire being, it was enough to lick the sweetness from Wade's mouth, to lay chest to chest and feel his Prince's every breath hitch as they moved together, to tighten his fingers around the swollen cock and swallow the moans that spilled from his mate's lips.

“I want you too.” he whispered back. They weren't meant to be but perhaps he could just have this, just this moment before the sun set and Wade's soul found it's way all the way back to living and Peter had to sing a siren's song to wash the human's memory clean of their time together.

“I want you too.” he repeated and Wade curled up into a sharp kiss full of tongue and longing. “Touch me, Prince Charming, touch me here.”

Peter took Wade’s hand and guided it down his stomach to the top of his tail, sucked in a quick, aching breath when his Prince’s fingers dipped into his navel before skating lower and the mer had to shift off to the side so he wouldn’t crush his love as Wade felt carefully, pointedly further along Peter’s scales until he came to the slight mound of the mer’s pouch, and then a scant inch lower, the scales that would shift aside and allow him entrance.

“Peter.” Wade breathed shakily when he found the almost invisible part in the mer’s tail, when his fingers were along scales one second and then next dipping into silky soft warmth. “P--Pete--”

“Yesssss.” the mer’s eyes went bright gold then very dark and heavy lidded as pleasure ran in a shiver up his spine, and Peter turned further onto his side to give Wade more room to feel him, balanced himself with his elbow in the sand and gripped rocks in his other hand so he wouldn’t cut his claws into the Prince’s side. “Yes my love, touch me.”

Wade bit back a hungry moan when his fingers closed around the mer’s cock, heavy and thick as he stroked and coaxed it free of the pouch, ridged and textured in ways that made his mouth water and his core clench, and Peter purred softly, wantonly when Wade’s own cock jerked in response to the sight.

“Closer.” The mer wriggled closer until they were side by side, face to face in the coarse sand, one of Wade’s legs thrown over his tail. “Closer, my love.”

Carefully at the Prince’s side, making sure to keep his claws away because too tight a squeeze, too startled or enjoyable a moment and the mer could kill his mate and Peter didn’t even want to take the chance, didn’t want to try and risk it.

“Like this.” Wade’s hand on his length was heaven, the steady stroke and curious play along the ridges and veins that marked his cock enough to make Peter’s eyes flicker in barely handled pleasure, and the mer whined brokenly at the loss of touch even as he coaxed his Prince’s touch lower still. “Right there, yes. Yes.”

Wade groaned out loud when he found the entrance just below Peter’s cock, slick and nearly hot as it allowed his fingers in and Peter gasped high and needy, rocked forward into the tentative press and drove Wade deeper inside.

Something shocked, blurted and breathless from the mer’s mouth, a language Wade could never hope to understand but rapture was the same across any tongue and he tasted it in their next kiss as Peter panted and sighed and nipped at Wade’s tongue as they tangled together.

“You’d have me?” Wade whispered in hoarse disbelief as his mate pressed closer, twitched his tail and lifted his hips up eagerly. “Pete, you would allow me to have you like this?”

“I’d allow you anything.” Fangs, drawing blood at Wade’s throat and the pain tore a shout from him, but there was nothing but blinding pleasure immediately after as the mer sealed his lips to the cut and drank the blood like he was starving. “My love, I’d allow you anything for the moments we have together, but you will have to have me like this.”

Oooph. Wade’s back hit the sand harder than he’d been expecting, Peter was far stronger than the lean muscles and gorgeous curve of his body would suggest, but the Prince only marveled at his mate’s strength, one hand buried inside Peter’s body and the other stroking over the glitter on Peter’s shoulders, down to the dip of his waist, back up to skip over the rows of his abdomen.

“You’re beautiful.” he managed as Peter lay over him, twisted his fingers inside the mer’s entrance and pulled a thready cry from gorgeous pink lips. “My love--”

Peter’s eyes melted molten gold in happiness and Wade said it again, crooned it, “My love---” and their lips met in the slowest kiss yet, lingering over bite-tender marks and licking through the others mouth, sharing breath, sharing air, sharing their souls as the mer reached with one hand to lift Wade’s fingers free of his body, then closed his palm around Wade’s cock.

“I’d allow you like this, my mate.” the mer whispered, and it was sheer insanity what they were doing. Pure madness for them to be kissing, to be moving together, for Peter to stroke his Prince to full hardness with a single pull and then with a slow roll of his hips, a flex of his tail and with claws scoring lines on the rocks as he fought for control, to take Wade clear into his body.

“My mate.” he shuddered when the Prince slipped into him, cried something wordless and needy when Wade held him tight and thrust up helplessly and Peter quieted Wade’s answering shout with a messy kiss, swallowed down the Prince’s gasped curse with a low purr, held his mate still until they both could breathe again.

“Peter.”

“Let me.” Peter tried not to growl, but it might have been a growl anyway with the way Wade cursed into his ear, cock jerking inside him hard enough to make the mer’s eyes roll back. “No no my love, let me.”

“Mate.” Wade caught Peter’s hips and held them tight when the mer shifted over him, scooted higher up over his chest and then dug into the sand and pushed back, engulfing Wade’s cock in pure rippling heat.

“Mate.” Braced on his elbows now, Peter could bend down and tease Wade with soft kisses and the dangerous hint of fangs. He could use the leverage to ease himself down and then pull himself back up, down and up, down and up, clenching tight every time their hips met and his Prince ground up into him, moaning every time they parted and Wade’s cock slid nearly entirely from his body before driving deep again.

“If you could swim with me, I’d take you to the depths.” Peter hissed when Wade’s teeth closed blunt over his pulse and pulled at him. “I'd show you how we are beneath the sea, I’d fit my cock into your most secret places--”

“Shit--” Wade jolted and Peter laughed in knowing delight, lost himself in a mind numbing kiss for a long moment, took Wade’s fingers and wound them around his cock to stroke in time to each slow roll of their bodies.

“--oh my love, I’d spend hours loving you.” he rasped, and Wade groaned something unintelligible and needy. “Over and over I’d spill in you until you were full of me and still begging for more, then I’d catch you tight--”

He shivered and moaned when the Prince’s hand tightened reflexively along his tip. “--yesss, do you feel that? All the ways my cock would fill you up and lock you tight to me? Then we could float in the currents for hours together. You’d be safe in my arms and I’d be safe in yours and we--”

The mer stuttered, grit his teeth and let his slick channel ripple around Wade’s cock as he grew closer to finishing. “--and we-- we could let the seas hear our heart songs until--”

“Pete.” Wade thrust up once, twice, threw his head back onto the beach and rocked against him desperately. “Pete please--”

“I know.” Peter slid himself down along his Prince until he was almost punishingly full, stretched and deliciously aching and he ground down into every helpless twitch and jerk of his mate’s body. “Oh my love, I know.”

“...want you…”

“...you have me…”

It was madness what they were doing, sheer insanity for a man and a mer to tangle this way. The Prince’s soul was caught in the space between living and dead, the mer was risking a life of eternal loneliness giving into the need when he should have just left, should have just waited for Wade’s soul to fully rejoin the living and then gone on his way without his heart song answered.

But it was too late. It was too late and it was madness but Peter couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

“Half a century I waited for you.” he murmured, and Wade turned his head to catch him up in an achingly tender kiss. “I’ll wait a half a century more for another chance.”

Music, warping the air and stirring the calm harbor waters into waves as Wade tipped and teetered at the edge of bliss. Music, thrumming in time to their hearts as Peter’s cock spilled onto Wade’s stomach and the Prince lost himself inside the mer’s body, pulsing and pouring and skittering searing pleasure through his veins.

Music, as they left a bloody sharp kiss and stared into each other eyes, a heart song as the sun began to sink behind them, a melody as Wade reached to wipe a tear that fell like a diamond from Peter’s golden eyes.

“....Pete?”

But the mer only shook his head and smiled, then tucked his chin into Wade’s shoulder and held him close as the fire between their body’s settled, soothed, and their souls melded one to another.

Music.

They were not meant to be.

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

“You’re beautiful.” Wade propped himself up on an elbow and traced the gorgeous red lines that cut through the darker blue on Peter’s tail, clicking his fingernails on the scales and smiling in awe when the setting sun caught the blue and turned it nearly purple before darkening to practically black. “Red and blue, red and black. Gorgeous.”

“You humans think the oddest things are beautiful.” Peter stretched back on the sand and purred in contentment as the Prince ran gentle hands over him. “I was caught in a net when I was younger, the wires cut into my tail and left me scarred. I should be wholly blue and flawless but instead it looks like--”

“Like your tail is set through with rubies.” Wade interrupted, thinking about the priceless treasures he’d seen overseas, the intricately sewn tapestries, silk so fine it sparkled in the sunshine, jewelry that wove like nets and webs along a royals porcelain skin.

Not one of them compared to how lovely the delicate red lines were as they wound through the blue of Peter’s scales, and though Wade’s heart hurt to think of his mer hurt badly enough to be scarred, selfishly he loved the way Peter shivered and shuddered as he traced each and every one.

“Beautiful.” he said again and Peter purred at him again, bared those deceptively dangerous fangs in a pleased smile. “Why do your eyes turn gold?”

“Because you’re my soulmate.” Peter answered simply. “Our eyes only change for our mates. Gold when I am happy or content or when I am--” his dark gaze flickered gold as he lingered over the stretch of muscle on Wade’s reclined form. “--when I am aroused.”

“You are angelic.” Wade swore, and the mer countered with a soft laugh, “More along the lines of a water demon, but you may call me whichever you’d like.”

Peter sat up into a kiss, wove his clawed fingers into Wade’s hair and tugged lightly at the blond strands. “You are beautiful too, my love. Your eyes are the color of the ocean in the islands, where the water is bright and clear and we can see down to the sand on the sea floor.”

“Ah, is that why you came to find me in the wreckage of the ship?” Wade leaned into the touch, sighed and pressed closer when fangs pricked just lightly at his neck. “Because my eyes remind you of the ocean?”

“I would have found you in the wreckage no matter what color your eyes were.” Peter swore. “Today you look like the sun god fallen to the sand, if tomorrow you were to look like the god of the underworld or a creature of the deep, you’d be my soulmate all the same.”

“Then why do you seem sad?” Wade wanted to know, and Peter whispered, “Because our time is limited, my love. And somehow I already miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

I already miss you.

Later, the sky turned purple and blue above them, the winds cooling and water turning frigid, the sun setting in a fiery ball at the horizon, and Peter finally eased back from an endless kiss to brush his lips along Wade’s forehead and then his cheek.

“I have to go.” he whispered sadly. “The sun is setting and so is our song, it’s time for us to part ways.”

“No.” Wade shook his head, made a fruitless grab for his mer. “No, Pete. Don’t leave me.”

“I have to go now before it’s too late.” Peter slipped away from Wade’s grasp entirely, checking the sky above him as he scooted backwards into the water. “When the stars come out your soul will be fully back among the living, and humans and mers are not meant to love one another. We had a few moments together, which is more than some soulmates ever have. Sleep, my love and forget me.”

“I will never forget you!” Wade jerked up to sitting, pulled his feet from water that was turning colder by the second as the sun went down, and lunged after Peter. “Come back! Pete, wait--”

-- weariness hit the Prince like he’d ran into a physical wall, and mid reach, his arm fell back to his side, his legs giving out and keeping him firmly on the sand as the sun dropped another notch in the sky.

“What--” Wade struggled to even sit up all the way, his breath suddenly coming gasped and choppy, his eyes heavy and leaden. “What’s happening-- what’s happening--”

“Sleep and wake to fully living, Prince Charming.” Peter slid back into the water another few inches, biting at his lip until it bled beneath his fangs as he watched his love struggle just to stay coherent. “I’ll sing you a song to help you forget, and when you open your eyes again, you’ll be safe. I promise.”

“Will you--” sand fell through Wade’s grasp as he tried to keep himself upright on the beach. “Will you forget me?”

“The ocean forgets nothing.” the mer’s face twisted in heartbreak when his Prince’s head dropped back, otherworldly sleep calling him in deep. “I’ll remember every moment with you.”

“...seems… unfair…”

“Fate is rarely fair.” The last of the sun’s light was on them now, shadows from every direction, covering Wade’s feet and creeping up his legs to his torso, to his chest and just before the darkness reached his lovely face and the call back to living took him entirely, Peter blew his soulmate a kiss and murmured, “Goodbye, my Prince.”

A siren’s song rose low and haunting over the waves at dusk, coming to Wade on the wind and swirling through his mind like fog.

He was weary to his very bones, senses clouded with pain that had been absent for hours but suddenly throbbed through every muscle. Every breath was labored and with every one, a little more memory slipped from Wade’s consciousness as the music grew in volume and somehow in sadness.

Good-bye my love.

The waves lapped at the Prince’s feet, not quite close enough to touch, but close to lull him to sleep, his eyes closing and heartbeat syncing with the come and go of water on the rocks, the ebb and flow of the tide, the quiet rhythm to the melody that echoed in his heart something painful and heartbroken and lonely…

… by the time the stars came out, Wade couldn’t remember how the hell he’d made it from the wreckage of the Sister Margaret to dry land. He didn’t know why his shirt was torn off, why his pants were loose around his hips or why his body thrummed with the remnants of pleasure.

The Prince didn’t know why, and in the distance of the harbor a pair of dark eyes watched from afar as Wade looked around in wonder and confusion before giving into the pull of the music and falling back into the sand to sleep.

“Perhaps another lifetime.” Peter whispered as the last of his siren song faded away on the night wind. “Maybe then your soul will be mine, as mine is forever yours.”

Wade slept on the beach, and the seas barely rippled as the mer disappeared under the surface to ease his grief below the waves.

Perhaps another lifetime.

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

Chapter Notes:

In some comics Wade has blue eyes and blond hair, so for reasons important to The Plot, I used this description for him vs my usual.

Obviously the Sister Margaret is the name of Weasel’s bar, and it also made a perfect ship name.

Uhh help I’ve never written mermaid sex before??

How much do we love demisexual Wade who never really saw the appeal of sex until he found the one he was meant to be with?

Recognize the golden eyes from MTW? Yeah, I will never let that trope die, it’s my canon now.

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE CHAPTER!

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

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @quietgayguy @nanita90a @justaniche @pumpkin-spidey

#ncts fics #spideypool #mermaid #peter parker #wade wilson #commission

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i-drink-and-i-write-fics · 3 years

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Death of Love

Chapter 3: Love Loss

Summary: Reader finds out the cost of war.

Dear Bunny,

I wish more than anything I could be there in person to tell you this. To be there for you to yell and scream and cry at. But I’m still hunting down those responsible. They are a radical group of Nazis called Hydra.

Bucky and I were part of a team known as the Howling Commandos. We have been going from Hydra base to base, taking them down and trying to stop them. It lead us to a train that the leader’s right-hand man, Dr. Arnim Zola, was riding.

We were closing in but the Hydra agents put up a tough fight.

I want you to know, Bunny, that Bucky saved my life. He never hesitated in doing what had to be done. I don’t want to say what exactly happened until I can tell you in person. I can’t have you experience that alone. I just know he was thinking of you.

I hope to see you soon,

Stevie

Tears fell from your eyes until you could no longer read your brother’s letter. Not because your eyes were blurry, but the tears had smeared his handwriting. Without stopping to think, you grabbed the nearest item and chucked it at the wall in front of you. It shattered in a glorious rain of glass and that’s when you noticed it was your mother’s vase. Damn.

But in the next instant, it didn’t matter. Bucky - your Bucky - was gone. Ripped away from you before you two had a chance to start your lives together. You had told - no warned! - the boys this would happen. But they didn’t listen to you. They never did.

What were you supposed to do without Bucky?

You went into a blind rage, tossing anything that was unlucky enough to be within your grasp. Once you were done destroying your immediate area, you plopped onto the ground amidst the carnage and sobbed until your throat was raw, your voice was hoarse, and you felt you had no more tears in you. And when you were done with that, you grabbed a stuffed bear Bucky once won for you and curled up on the couch to pass out.

The next day you dragged yourself off the couch and regarded the mess you had made with a mix of self-loathing and pity. You hadn’t meant to make a mess of everything and you could imagine the stern, almost father-like lecture Stevie would have given you had he been here.

But he wasn’t there. And if you had any tears in you, they would have started flowing again.

You carefully stepped around the glass until you were in your tiny kitchen. There you grabbed the coffee pot and made the strongest batch you could. You would need all your energy to clean up the mess you had made.

After a breakfast of coffee and eggs, you turned on the radio and began to clean your mess. In between each song was a broadcast talking about Captain America. You had no idea who he was, only that you had heard the name before while in the market the other day. He was supposed to be a symbol of hope.

Hope. That was a feeling you were becoming more and more unfamiliar with. Maybe you would go out later today and visit with some friends. Maybe all you needed was a distraction.

And so it went for you. Very slowly, as if wading through molasses you tried to carry on. You visited a friend and were happy for her when she said her husband was coming back from the war, albeit missing a leg. She then regretted her words when she heard about Bucky. Yes, her husband was returning hurt but he was returning.

The next day you went to a matinee where a clip of this Captain America was playing. You couldn’t say as to why, but he looked familiar. In your next letter to Steve, you would ask about him.

The following day after that you went to church, hoping you could feel some comfort about losing Bucky. But you felt out of place and left halfway through the sermon.

After a month, you realized the pain was never really going to subside. Not until Steve was back home. Your older brother was the other half of your heart, all you truly had left. And until he was home in one piece you couldn’t begin to truly heal.

You were in the very small kitchen of the very small apartment you had once shared with your brother. A cup of tea was growing cold as you stared out the window when a knock on the door startled you. You opened it to find a very beautiful woman in a British uniform flanked by two American soldiers.

“Good afternoon. Forgive my intrusion. My name is Agent Peggy Carter and I helped create the program that created Captain America.”

You gave a small smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Carter. How may I help you?”

“You are Miss _____ Rogers, correct?” You nodded your head. “May I come in? I feel there is much we need to discuss.”

“Oh! Of course.” You moved aside so she could come in.

She turned to the two men behind her. “Please wait by the car. We don’t need an audience for this.”

The men nodded and left as you closed the door. An audience? You turned to Agent Carter as she made her way over to a small collection of family photos you had by the couch. She picked up one of you, Steve, and Bucky as teenagers. Love was clearly written on yours and Bucky’s face as you tried not to glance at each other in the photo.

Carter cleared her throat and set the photo back. “Miss Rogers, as you know your brother Steve has been a massive help as Captain America.”

“He what?!” You interrupted.

She whirled to face you. “You didn’t know? I figured he would have mentioned it in one of his letters to you. After his procedure, he toured with the USO to help sell war bonds. While overseas he got word that Sergeant Barnes’ platoon was captured. Howard Stark and I helped him get behind enemy lines and he rescued each and every man.”

“And then lost Bucky on a mission.” You let out a shaky breath and plopped onto a chair by the couch.

Peggy sat down on the couch close to you. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Steve told me how he had hoped you and Sergeant Barnes would have married one day.”

“What happened to him?”

She shifted. “Did Steve not tell you?”

“No. He said he would tell me once he got home. But I can’t wait another moment? What happened to Bucky?”

Peggy reached out and took your hand. “He- he fell from a train. Down the side of a mountain.”

Your hand was trembling, but you just nodded your head. “Thank you. Do you…. do you know when Steve will be home?”

Peggy’s eyes watered and you noticed. You ripped your hand from hers and stood up. “Please, Miss Rogers.”

“What happened? What happened to my brother?!”

“Miss Rogers I need you to calm down.”

“FUCK CALM! What happened to my brother?!”

Peggy flinched at the language. “He died saving the world.”

“How?!” Peggy wouldn’t meet your eyes. “HOW?!”

She cleared her throat and began to tell you the whole story, starting from Bucky and Steve’s mission to take the train and ending with Steve crashing the plane into the ocean.

“And he didn’t have a parachute why? Or even just jumped out as is? He was over the ocean! None of you could put all those brains together and told my brother to jump out once the plane was on its path?!”

“Miss Rogers, it’s perfectly understandable to be upset-“

“Upset? You think this is upset?! I haven’t even scratched the surface! I want you out of my house!”

“Miss Rogers-”

“Now! I don’t want to hear another word! The US Military has already taken everything from me. I won’t put up with it for a moment longer.”

She nodded her head and stood up from the couch. “Very well. When you have calmed down, please call me at this number. We would like to help with any….arrangements that need to be made.”

And with a quick drop of a card on the table, Peggy Carter was out of your house and out of your life.

It didn’t take you long before you once again trashed your apartment, this time taking it to a whole other level. Once you were done, a new feeling washed over you. Starting from your toes and traveling upward, slowly. As it passed your heart, you knew what it was. Numb. You were now numb. You couldn’t feel anything anymore. And why should you? You just had everything you loved taken away from you, with barely anyone noticing.

Well, they were going to notice. Just as soon as you found someone.

Someone who was now government property.

Chapter 4

#fanfic #fan fic #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #death of love #angst #canon typical violence #tw: trauma #tw: depression #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x fem!reader #fem!reader

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freddieslater · 3 years

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10 Favourite Female Characters From 10 Different Fandoms

(List your 10 favorite female characters from 10 fandoms, then tag 10 people)

Thank you so much for the tag @a-lil-bi-furious !! ❤️

1. Malia Tate from Teen Wolf

Starting off strong — literally, she has the strength of, like, a bear and the temper of one! My angry girl!! I just loved her from the very first second we were introduced to her after turning back. She went through so much, and it clearly had a big impact on her, and we got to see her grow through most of it (but not all of it because the writers suck a bit) and work to become a pack member instead of the lone coyote she had gotten used to being. Also, she insanely pretty and cute so she’s allowed to growl at people every so often!

2. Liv Parker from The Vampire Diaries

My angry and extra sassy girl — witch edition! There’s just something about her that I love. I really understand Tyler; she could insult me and blast me across a room with magic and I would fall in love with her. But we know that a lot of her mean-girl attitude comes from her family issues, and it’s more of a defense mechanism than anything. So, it was nice to see a softer side of her around both Luke and Tyler — and Jo, on occasion. She knew she was the “weaker” twin and as much as the thought of dying scared her, she still stood strong and tried to find a way to save Luke from having to live with that guilt by finding another way — just as she saved Tyler from triggering his curse by killing someone (who was already dying because of him) for him. And then in the end, knowing she was going to die anyway, she saved him again. She deserved a way better ending and more of a chance to grow since we definitely were not done with her story, so I will be forever bitter but I love and appreciate the time we had her for!

3. Hope Mikaelson from Legacies

Is it cheating if they’re from the same universe but not the same show? I just love this little Tribrid so much. She’s gone through a lot her entire life — literally, she had people trying to kill her before she was even born. She lost her mum, and then her dad, and her uncle. Not to mention the, uh, killing a bunch of people in between and also finding out your first boyfriend helped kidnapped your mum in a plot to kill her and you (that he didn’t know about, given, but still). And having virtually no friends at school. But she still tried to be so strong all the time, to a point where she really should let more people in it and see that soft, vulnerable part that’s still in there. Her anger is justified, and sometimes out of her control due to her family, and I wish they’d let her get real help for it. She shouldn’t have to be the “hero” or the “saviour” all the time and I wish they would just cut her a break, let her rest, and have a moment of happiness that doesn’t end with her feeling like she didn’t deserve it.

4. Wanda Maximoff from MCU

(First of all, you don’t know how painful it was having to wade through a bunch of Pietro gifs in the process of finding this one.) The version of Wanda in the MCU is very... complex. Obviously there’s a lot of issues With the character, but if I’m focusing solely on who she is in the MCU, then I love her so much. And she definitely has some issues in her life. She starts off as the bad guy, angry and seeking “justice” (and revenge) for what happened to her parents, and in the same movie, we see her realize that the side she was working for wasn’t any better. We see her character develop quite a bit in just her first movie, and then over the course of the next ones, we see more sides to her; her guilt over hurting innocent people through a quickly-made decision, her compassion for Vision and for those other people, her grief over losing Pietro and Vision. And she herself is so powerful! She tries to live with the pain she’s endured but it takes over without her control, because both her grief and her magic are all-consuming. And I add this because I still refuse WandaVision’s change to the timeline: she went through all of this before she was eighteen. She’s so young, and in pain, but she still tries so hard to push through because other people need her, and she doesn’t want them to suffer like she has. Also, I just think it’s pretty when she does those little hand movements to possess people and her eyes turn red.

5. Nymphadora Tonks from Harry Potter

She deserved the absolute world. Her death was unnecessary, and I hate it, because she should have gotten to live the rest of her life raising her son, happy with her husband, and just generally being alive. She was so full of life and joy, and she tried to be the source of those things in the middle of a literal war when everyone was at their lowest and felt hopeless or angry. Also would’ve loved more scenes of her and her favourite cousin, Sirius, because they would be chaotic and they both deserved that. ALSO also, she’s very pretty, can change her appearance and chose to have pink/purple hair and dresses like how tiny me wanted to dress, so I immediately fell in love, of course.

6. Kara Danvers from Supergirl

She’s just so kind and compassionate despite everything the world has put her through — but she’s also angry deep down, and she’s hurt and in pain, and some of my favourite moments of hers are when she’s allowed to express that. When she’s allowed to really just lose it and lash out at the people who hurt her because she pushes it down for so long so that she can help everyone else that it finally just explodes.

7. Jody Jackson from The Dumping Ground

TW: mentions of different forms of child abuse. This girl deserves the whole world but I promise you that the world does not deserve her. The same can be said for pretty much all of the characters in The Dumping Ground, to be honest, but god she has just been through so much. Neglected by her mum from a very young age, abused physically and verbally by her and (presumably) both of her brothers, and it’s implied she’s abused sexually by one of her brothers as well. Of course when we first meet her she is angry and terrified. She still is because the trauma developed and was never fully dealt with, so she still carries it all around in her mouth and fists, until one little thing happens to make her lash out. And she knows she has a problem — she is terrified of becoming her brother, and sometimes her mum, and all she wants is to not hurt the people she loves. Because she loves so much, it’s just hard for her to know how to show it sometimes because sometimes all she can remember is how her family “loved” her. But she’s grown so much since she went into care and she’s getting help at last, and I just have so much hope for her happiness in the next series to come.

8. Annie Marks from Good Girls

She’s short, fiesty, will make jokes at the worst possible time, won’t stop calling a literal gang leader who has threatened her life on more than one occasion “gang friend”, was incredibly supportive and accepting of her son when he came out as trans, will punch someone when necessary (probably also when not), has a semi-friendly co-parenting thing going on with her ex, and is just all around adorably ridiculous.

9. Casey McDonald from Life With Derek

Ignoring Derek in the gif — Casey usually does, too. Casey is a perfectionist, and frankly, sometimes quite annoying about it and some other things, and yes, she definitey initiates a lot of the arguments between her and Derek. And that is why I love her. She is in no way perfect, and her striving to be comes from anxiety and insecurities that are partially the result of the instability in her life. I love how, no matter how much she may despise Derek, when there’s a real problem, she tries to help. She cares about the people in her life, and I can’t wait for her to return to as a mum of four!

10. Ashley Garcia from The Expanding Universe of Ashley Garcia

Someone give the world TO her, please?? It’s a shame this fandom is so small because she deserves so much love and appreciation. She’s a literal genius but lacks... a lot of social skills at the start of the show. But she learns from her friends, and gets to experience new things, including having a crush for the time (and the second!) and she’s just generally living life as a fairly normal teenager. While still being an absolute genius. I just love this smiley little dork so much!

Tagging: @pad-foots @donnas-troia @childofsquidward @multifandomlover121 @superarrowverse @dance-is-life27 to participate if you want to, but as always, no pressure! And anyone who wants to do this but wasn’t tagged — you have been now! Go do it!

#tag games #favourite characters <3

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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People, November 30

Cover: Sexiest Man Alive Michael B. Jordan

Page 7: Chatter -- Dolly Parton on parenthood, Jason Momoa on wearing pink, Kurt Russell on making a negative first impression with longtime love Goldie Hawn, Taylor Swift on dating Joe Alwyn, Keke Palmer on preferring leggings, Viola Davis on processing the state of the world

Page 8: 5 Things We’re Talking About This Week -- stars prep a seasonal singalong, a Baby Yoda cocktail wins over famous fans, The Bachelor mansion hits Airbnb, Arnold Schwarzenegger heads to Netflix, Blue Ivy narrates an audiobook

Page 11: Contents

Page 12: Contents, Editor’s Letter

Page 14: StarTracks -- Famous Families -- John Legend and Chrissy Teigen attended the drive-in premiere of Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey in L.A. with their kids Miles and Luna

Page 15: LeBron James with mom Gloria, Gabrielle Union backyard with daughter Kaavia, Chris Hemsworth and his mother Leonie, Rupert Grint and daughter Wednesday G. Grint

Page 16: Kit Harington filmed a scene for the second season of Modern Love in Dublin, Tiger Woods awarded a green jacket to 2020 Masters champion Dustin Johnson, Patricia Clarkson showed off a shimmering gown at Housing Works’ annual Fashion for Action Benefit

Page 17: Nashville’s Biggest Night -- Carrie Underwood and husband Mike Fisher attended the 54th annual Country Music Association Awards, Charley Pride performed with Jimmie Allen before accepting his CMA Lifetime Achievement Award, Miranda Lambert with husband Brendan McLoughlin, Maren Morris won three awards and shone a light on Black female country artists

Page 19: Timothee Chalamet packed on some layers for a bike ride along Manhattan’s Hudson River Park, Molly Bernard and Sutton Foster and Hilary Duff during a break from filming for Younger in New York City’s Upper West Side, Mandy Moore cradled her pregnant belly at the E! People’s Choice Awards in Santa Monica, Tyler Perry at the E! People’s Choice Awards

Page 23: Scoop -- Healing on Grey’s Anatomy -- inside Patrick Dempsey’s surprise return

Page 24: Lena Dunham reveals her struggle with infertility and IVF

Page 26: Heart Monitor -- Olivia Wilde and Jason Sudeikis surprise split, Ryan Cabrera and Alexa Bliss engaged, Michelle Pfeiffer and David E. Kelley happy anniversary, Kristin Cavallari and Jeff Dye dating

Page 29: Britney Spears’ battle with her dad continues, Britney and Sam Asghari’s island getaway

Page 30: Ciara and Russell Wilson’s new family moves, Buddy Valastro making progress after his accident

Page 32: Rebel Wilson -- my year of health and love, Pioneer Woman Ree Drummond becomes a proud foster mom

Page 34: Passages, Why I Care -- after losing her mother to pancreatic cancer in 2012 Mindy Kaling is raising awareness about the disease

Page 37: Stories to Make You Smile -- there’s no debate about who won the popular vote in Rabbit Hash in Kentucky: a 6-month-old dog named Wilbur, a tiny preemie grows into a healthy 4-year-old with Superman by his side

Page 41: People Picks -- The Flight Attendant

Page 42: Hillbilly Elegy, Happiest Season, Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, Q&A Lindsey Vonn

Page 43: Lego Star Wars Holiday Special, People Presents: Once upon a Main Street, Small Axe, One to Watch -- The Christmas Chronicles: Part Two’s Darby Camp

Page 45: Books

Page 47: Jewel -- what I know now -- she went from homelessness to pop stardom 25 years ago and now the singer gets candid about healing from her abusive childhood and finding true happiness

Page 53: At home with The Undertaker -- the (family) man behind the WWE legend -- after 30 years in the ring Mark Calaway reflects on his career and catching up on lost time as a dad

Page 56: At 51 Julie Loving becomes her daughter’s surrogate -- a mother’s amazing gift -- after years of struggling with infertility Breanna Lockwood thought she’d never have a child and then her mom stepped up and gave birth to a healthy baby girl

Page 60: John Belushi -- the private world of a comedy legend -- nearly four decades after the groundbreaking actor’s tragic death at age 33 those closest to him open up about the legacy he left behind

Page 64: Emma Stone and Ryan Reynolds -- kids asked and they answered -- the stars of The Croods: A New Age take questions from their youngest fans

Page 66: A High School Coach’s Betrayal -- shattered justice -- Emilie Morris told police her former track coach had sexually abused her but charges were dropped when she died; now her family hopes a new TV special will bring fresh attention to the case

Page 72: Michael B. Jordan is the Sexiest Man Alive -- he’s driven and compassionate and playful and doing more than his fair share to help change the world

Page 83: Men of the Year -- Chris Evans

Page 84: Harry Styles

Page 85: Trevor Noah, Kevin Costner, Maluma, Lakeith Stanfield

Page 86: Paul Rudd, Steve Kornacki, William Zabka, Ryan Seacrest, Darren Barnet

Page 87: Brad Pitt, The Weeknd, Paul Mescal, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II

Page 88: Manny Jacinto, Dr. Elvis Francois, Stephen Colbert, Robert Pattinson

Page 89: John David Washington

Page 90: Dwayne Johnson, Lucas Bravo, Dr. Anthony Fauci

Page 91: Pedro Pascal

Page 92: Chris Rock, Matt Bomer, Penn Badgley, Andrew Cuomo, Justin Bieber, Jonathan Majors

Page 98: The People Have Spoken -- readers exercised their right to vote by picking their favorites in an online poll

* Sexiest Star Who Kept Us Smiling -- John Krasinski

* Sexiest Small-Screen Star -- Jensen Ackles

* Sexiest Royal -- Prince Harry

Page 99: Sexiest International Man -- Jeon Jungkook

* Sexiest New Dad -- Joe Jonas

* Sexiest Happily Settled Guy -- Ryan Reynolds

Page 100: Sexiest Sports Star -- Patrick Mahomes

* Sexiest Social Media Star -- Shawn Mendes

* Sexiest Brothers -- Liam Hemsworth and Chris Hemsworth

* Sexiest Netflix Heartthrob -- Noah Centineo

Page 106: Dan Levy -- sexiest man in quarantine -- baking and jigsaw puzzles and so many Zooms: whatever quarantine had to offer the Schitt’s Creek co-creator and star tried it all

Page 115: Hottest Couples -- these twosomes make being in love look good -- Chrissy Teigen and John Legend, Matthew and Camila McConaughey, Kevin and Eniko Hart, Katherine Schwarzenegger Pratt and Chris Pratt, Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid, Gabrielle Union and Dwyane Wade, Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez

Page 117: The Eyes Have It -- in the era of face masks these men are still able to flaunt their finest feature -- Idris Elba, Bradley Cooper, Jesse Williams, Mark Consuelos, Boris Kodjoe, Henry Golding, Zac Efron, Ian Somerhalder

Page 120: A Sexy Man’s Best (Instafamous) Friend -- Nick Jonas with Gino Chopra Jonas

Page 123: Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka with Gidget and Spike

Page 124: Harry Connick Jr. with Tuka

Page 127: Cats Are Instafamous Too -- these felines and their sexy celeb owners prove they’re just as worthy of social media stardom -- Ed Sheeran with Calippo, Bobby Flay with Nacho, Keegan Allen with Tyn, Ricky Gervais with Pickle

Page 129: Sexy at Every Age

Page 130: Silver Foxes -- they’ve still got it -- these former cover stars are as smoldering as ever proving sexiness gets better with age -- Richard Gere, Harrison Ford

Page 131: Pierce Brosnan, Harry Hamlin, Mark Harmon

Page 132: All Glowed Up -- this group of guys outgrew their sweet baby faces to become dashingly handsome men -- Adam Rippon, Charlie Puth, Josh Peck, Mario Lopez, Michele Morrone, Skylar Astin

Page 133: Orlando Bloom, Ramy Youssef, Brooklyn Beckham, Hunter Hayes, Wilson Cruz, Chase Stokes, Jordan Fisher

Page 134: A Change of Scenery -- we’re all sick of staying home so luckily these sizzling guys have found plenty of ways to get things done outdoors -- Paul Wesley goes camping in his yard

Page 136: Cole Hauser takes a bath

Page 137: Common gets a shave and a haircut

Page 138: Edgar Ramirez enjoys coffee and a book

Page 140: Derek Hough does his laundry

Page 143: Cutest Baby Alive -- CNN anchor Anderson Cooper’s sweet son Wyatt

Page 151: Second Look -- Melissa McCarthy in Superintelligence

Page 152: One Last Thing -- Kate Mara -- the actress stars in the new limited series A Teacher

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fweeble · 3 years

Text

Mafia Romcom (1/?)

Title: None Fandom: SVSSS Pairing(s): LBHxSY, LQGxSY, LBHxLQG, YQYxSQQ Warnings: unrealistic mafia, badly written romcom, unbeta’d Summary: Cang Qiong’s Shen Yuan has been kidnapped. His brother, Shen Qingqiu is in a frenzy. Liu Qingge and Cang Qiong’s greatest enemy, Luo Binghe, are determined to rescue him. A/N: Thank you @freykugel, my favorite cannibal oniisan, for being patient with me and even reading some of it despite knowing fuck all about SVSSS, xianxia, and everything else. You are the best hyung I could ever ask for. This is what happens when the world is batshit insane, I’m allowed to play Piofiore and read yakuza manga, and know fuck-all about the Chinese Triad.

Liu Qingge is welcomed into the building with the muffled sounds of Shen Qingqiu shouting. A harassed looking underling bows, offering strained apologies and offering to bring breakfast up to his office soon. It isn’t the first time that Shen Qingqiu has thrown a fit that has shaken the Cang Qiong mansion to its foundation and it likely won’t be the last. No matter how soundproof Yue Qingyuan tries to make every room in the mansion, Shen Qingqiu’s voice carries. For a moment, Liu Qingge entertains the idea of tendering his resignation. When he reaches his office, all that will be waiting for him are piles of paperwork and an endless revolving door of men making their reports for their day. No matter how loyal he is to Cang Qiong, he feels his grip on his sanity bleed out through his ears with every tick of the clock as he is stuck behind a desk. He has done enough that he should be able to retire, surely? Weathering the continued existence of Shen Qingqiu is far and beyond his job description. Trading in a desk for freelance work is a daydream that helps Liu Qingge pass the tedium of his current position more often than he’d like to admit. Enough of his men have looked terrified during their daily reports as he silently sharpened Cheng Luan for word to spread that Cang Qiong’s head enforcer likes to threaten his underperforming underlings with the sword. Liu Mingyan had burst into laughter when the rumor had finally reached her. It keeps his men on his toes, so he lets it be. (If he imagines throwing himself out the nearest window, Cheng Luan in hand, and making a break for freedom, far, far away from paperwork and the endless droning of reports, no one but Liu Mingyan needs to know this. Everyone is allowed to dream.) Yue Qingyuan, as ill-suited to the mafia life as any leader can be, would likely let him leave with minimal fuss and no demands for recompense. If anything, Liu Qingge suspects Yue Qingyuan may actually send him off with a farewell party. Everyone knows how often Liu Qingge’s the trigger of one of Shen Qingqiu’s infamous temper tantrums behind closed doors. As excellent as Liu Qingge is at his job, Yue Qingyuan would be relieved to have Shen Qingqiu’s Most Hated Enemy #2 out of the way. After all, even the boss’s husband would have a difficult time throwing out one of Cang Qiong’s inner circle without good reason. It may have been easy to get rid of Luo Binghe, who had no reputation, power, or influence to his name, but the Liu Clan has a long and illustrious history, influence, power, and more money than it knows what to do with. Getting on the clan’s bad side would cause Cang Qiong more headache than Shen Qingqiu in all his righteous fury can. Shen Qingqiu’s voice ratchets up another dozen decibels. Liu Qingge thinks he can make out a few of the words. He signs a few more documents, checks the clock, and considers taking a break before the first of his men reports. Tea with Shen Yuan in the garden sounds appealing. He straightens his hair, smooths any wrinkles out of his waistcoat and resists licking his lips nervously. Maybe he should drop by the bathroom before visiting Shen Yuan’s office, make sure he is presentable. Don’t be stupid, he tells himself, even as he feels himself flushing. Five years working with the man and he still has all the dignity of a three year old when it comes to Shen Yuan. Shen Qingqiu’s voice continues to get louder. He’s nearly at the door when it is thrown open by Shen Qingqiu who proceeds to brush him aside. Yue Qingyuan sweeps in after his husband, shooting Liu Qingge a pitying look as he politely shuts the door behind him. If only he hadn’t taken the half-second to fix his hair, he despairs. He could’ve been long gone before Shen Qingqiu decided to descend like a plague of locusts. “Find him!” Shen Qingiu roars as he paces back and forth in Liu Qingge’s office, hair in disarray and face surprisingly pale. “Who?” Liu Qingge grunts as he reluctantly returns to his seat. “Shen Yuan!” Shen Qingiu slams his hand down on Liu Qingge’s desk, sending papers flying. The monitor shakes ominously, threatening to fall. Liu Qingge eyes the splintered surface and feels his own rage building. Until the name sinks in. He can feel the blood drain from his face as well. He turns to Yue Qingyuan who looks uncharacteristically strained. “Explain,” he demands. ---- In between the shouting and Cheng Luan being threateningly brandished against an inconsolable and raging Shen Qingqiu, Liu Qingge has understood three things: 1. Shen Yuan has gone missing. He is not answering his phone. The app Shen Qingqiu had secretly installed on his phone isn’t working. He cannot be located. 2. Shen Yuan was last seen the night before, wishing his brother good night before retreating to his quarters. 3. Shen Qingqiu is convinced Luo Binghe has him. Liu Qingge hates agreeing with Shen Qingqiu about anything. They once got into an argument over the weather because he couldn’t bring himself to agree with the other man. But Liu Qingge can’t help but agree that if Shen Yuan has gone missing, the prime suspect is his ex-disciple Luo Binghe. It’s no secret how much Luo Binghe desires his old teacher. Which is why Liu Qingge wastes no time in delegating his duties to Yang Yixuan and marching over to Huan Hua’s estate and demanding a meeting with Luo Binghe. He had told Yue Qingyuan not to worry, had explained that it would just be an exploratory meeting. It had been clear Yue Qingyuan hadn’t believed him, but Liu Qingge doesn’t feel too guilty about breaking into Huan Hua and raiding the estate. If Luo Binghe has Shen Yuan, he’d keep him close. Shen Yuan will definitely be on the premises. If Shen Yuan isn’t there, then that’s one suspect off the list. It isn’t his job to play detective, anyways. If either Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu had expected subterfuge or delicacy in handling the situation, they shouldn’t have turned to him, the head of Cang Qiong’s hitmen. They could have turned to Qing Qi and her hand picked spies or even sent some of Shen Yuan’s own grifters to put out feelers and gather information. One does not take out a hammer when precision work is necessary. If anyone is at fault, it’s Shen Qingqiu’s fault for demanding Liu Qingge to find his brother. (Liu Qingge ignores the Liu Mingyan in his head that giggles at his flimsy excuses. He’s absolutely not as emotionally compromised as Shen Qingqiu is. He’s making perfectly sound decisions. What else had they expected a trained assassin to do? He can’t smile and make small talk, tricking a target into exposing sensitive information like Shen Yuan does. What he can do is kill a man in seventeen different ways with his bare hands while blindfolded and shoot moving target with pinpoint accuracy at over six hundred meters. His only skills are beating people for information and killing people for information. He’s just playing to his strengths.) He tosses one terrified looking Huan Hua thug out a window and points Cheng Luan at another before taking a deep breath and hollering. “LUO BINGHE. COME OUT!” He waits one second, then two. After the third, he angrily incapacitates the terrified flunky hiding behind a potted plant and takes the stairs up. Wading through the endless waves of Huan Hua trash that come crawling out like cockroaches, Liu Qingge does his best to avoid permanently injuring or killing any of them. There’s no reason to start a war if Shen Yuan isn’t here. (But he is; he definitely is.) After half an hour of crushing every person who even tries to stop him, Liu Qingge makes it to a heavy set of doors. Luo Binghe’s office. “Luo Binghe!” The man in question sits behind his gleaming rosewood desk, Sha Hualing perched on the end of it, twirling her hair. Luo Binghe smiles thinly at Liu Qingge. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks lightly. “I never expected the great War God of Cang Qiong to visit Huan Hua.” Liu Qingge twitches. “Return Shen Yuan,” he commands, Cheng Luan still pointed at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe’s smile gets sharper, “If Shizun has had enough of Cang Qiong and wishes to be with his dearest disciple, I see why I should send him back.” “No reason?” Liu Qingge resists stabbing the smug bastard immediately. “Is death not enough motivation?” “Death?” Luo Binghe laughs lowly, “I’m not the one courting it.” Sha Hualing rolls her eyes, rising from the desk with smooth grace. “I’ll go check on our...products,” she says as she leaves, shooting Luo Binghe a look that speaks thousands of words, all of them which make Liu Qingge turn crimson. “Shameless!” He bites out, head turning from Sha Hualing’s retreating back to Luo Binghe, before swiveling right back. “Shameless!” He repeats, face hotter than it should be. Luo Binghe retrieves Xin Mo from its place of honor on the wall even as he taunts Liu Qingge, “Cheng Luan, really? Is Cang Qiong so old fashioned that even its War God brings outdated weaponry to battle?” “As if the peashooters your men had were of any use,” Liu Qingge snorts. No gun, no matter how powerful it is, is dead weight in the hands of the incompetent. “You know as well as I do how useful good steel can be,” he continues as Luo Binghe draws Xin Mo. There’s a heartbeat as they both size each other up. Liu Qingge readjusts his stance, eyes Luo Binghe’s shifting his grip on Xin Mo. They’re about to strike, when the doors slam open. “BOSS! Shen Yuan has been kidnapped!” Liu Qingge’s murderous rage shifts. “SHANG QINGHUA!” Shang Qinghua stands in the doorway to Luo Binghe’s office, eyes wide. He trembles. “L-L-Liu Qingge?” He stammers. “BOSS?” Liu Qingge repeats, pointing Cheng Luan at the suddenly stiff Luo Binghe. “LUO BINGHE?” If it were possible, Shang Qinghua would probably melt through the floor. “Kidnapped?” Luo Binghe repeats, voice dangerously low. Shang Qinghua shivers more. He looks on the verge of tears. “Explain. Now.”

#Fandom: SVSSS #SVSSS: Mafia romcom #Fwee fic #Scum Villain's Self-Saving System #SVSSS

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gokinjeespot · 3 years

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off the rack #1316

Monday, March 8, 2021

Coming up on a year since the pandemic started. I hope you're all healthy and safe. I am hopeful that vaccines will be deployed widely and help us all feel less anxious. I am fortunate enough to be one of those people who is happy as a bug snug in a rug while self isolating. I do really miss my dear friends and family but hugs can wait until we're all vaccinated.

My thanks to Doug for lending me these comic books to read.

Batman Annual #5 - James Tynion IV (writer) James Stokoe (art) Clayton Cowles (letters). It's the origin of Clownhunter and it's not very original. If I had to pay $4.99 US I would have passed on this and lived with leaving a hole in my Batman collection. If you're not familiar with this new vigilante, he's an Asian teenager named Bao who decides he's going to kill the Joker and all of the villain's sycophants. The reason he becomes Clownhunter (and killer) is very mundane. I wish they could have come up with a new motivator. Maybe the philosophical discussion about what to do about the Joker might interest some fans but I found this story quite tedious. I also didn't like the way Bao and his parents were portrayed. Did they really have an Asian saying "Ah, so"? Yes they did on page 8. Shades of Charlie Chan, Batman. I was not offended, just disappointed.

Batman/Catwoman #3 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). I was thrilled to see the town of Port Orange, Florida mentioned on the first page. My pal Al lives there. It's also where Selina finally catches up with the Joker and does what Batman never did. I love this Black Label book taking familiar characters and treating them in a new and interesting way. Here's a future where Selina has survived her husband Bruce's death and their daughter Helena is the new Batwoman. Now I wait to see how mother and daughter deal with the Angel of Death.

And now, more Future State books.

Future State: Robin Eternal #2 - Meghan Fitzmartin (writer) Eddy Barrows (pencils) Eber Ferreira (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Pat Brosseau (letters). The consequence of Tim Drake/Robin being dunked in Lazarus resin is that now he's immortal. Whoop-dee-doo. Not only is this a boring Robin beats up bad guys issue but the art lacked any logical perspective. This issue takes place on a train but you would think it's in a huge building based on the art. I know it's comic books but I hate when one doesn't make visual sense. I think that's just laziness.

Future State: Kara Zor-El Superwoman #1 & #2 - Marguerite Bennett (writer) Marguerite Sauvage (art) Wes Abbott (letters). This 2-issue fairy tale was not meant for old farts like me and Doug. With it's soft pastel colours these books should have included glitter and bubblegum flavoured lip gloss. Maybe young tween girls will like this. The moral of this story is "no one is born wise".

Future State: Dark Detective #3 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Dan Mora (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Aditya Bidikar (letters). There are not one but two Batmans in this issue. You've got Bruce in his new capeless costume but here he's wearing a trench coat to give that fluttering effect, and then there's the new guy in the Bat suit, cape and all. The "uh-oh" point of the story hits here when the bad guys discover where Bruce is hiding out. The Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Carmine Di Giandomenico (art) Antonio Fabela (colours) & AndWorld Design (letters) Grifter story concludes here too with a double cross and a whole lot more of Helena/Huntress. This is my favourite Future State book so far.

Future State: Superman of Metropolis #1 & #2 - Sean Lewis (writer) John Timms (art) Gabe Eltaeb (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). If you're wondering how a grown up Jonathan Kent takes over for his dad as Metropolis's protector then these two $5.99 US books will satisfy your curiosity. The villain of the story is an evolved Brainiac who is a big multi-mouthed ball now. Metropolis is shrunk ala the bottle city of Kandor, the citizens go nuts but Jon returns things back to normal in the end with the help of Kara/Supergirl. I don't know why Kara's a girl in this story and a woman elsewhere. Each issue has two back-ups so you get your money's worth. One features Mister Miracle and the other the Guardian. They are both dealing with bad things inside the bottled Metropolis. You won't miss much if you don't read them. The Mister Miracle story "The Metropolis Menagerie" is done my Brandon Easton (writer) Valentine De Landro (art) Marissa Louise (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). The Guardian story is brought to you by Sean Lewis (writer) Cully Hamner & Michael Avon Oeming (art) Laura Martin (colours) AndWorld Design (letters). This one got me excited because a villain wants to throw Jimmy Olsen off of the Daily Planet building.

Future State: Catwoman #2 - Ram V (writer) Otto Schmidt (art) Tom Napolitano (letters). Read this to find out if Catwoman saves the lives of the people on the train. You will also find out if Bruce is freed from the bad guys. Talia Al-Ghul appearing is the deus ex machina in this story. I like the new Cheshire and Onomatopoeia is always fun.

Future State: Superman: Worlds of War #2 - Phillip Kennedy Johnson (writer) Mikel Janin (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters). In "The Many Deaths of Superman" the Man of Steel fights in the arena of Warworld where Mongul resurrects him after every death match. It's the typical brutal battle scenes and super villain gloating. What's more compelling is an old newspaper story that Clark Kent wrote that inspired a young woman who travels to Smallville. I was totally confused by the three back-up stories featuring Mister Miracle, Midnighter and the Black Racer because they were not very good. I am a completist and have to finish what I start. I could have stopped reading after the $3.99 US main story in this bloated $7.99 US comic book but my obsessive compulsive nature wouldn't let me. It's a character flaw I wish I could change.

Future State: The Next Batman #1 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). All the teasers for this book hyped the fact that this Batman is black. You won't get the secret identity in this first issue but there are a bunch of likely candidates. Lucas Fox is a possibility but it's confusing because he's a bad guy in another Future State book. This is another $7.99 US book with back-ups. These are more coherent than the ones in Future State: Superman: Worlds of War.

Future State: Outsiders by Brandon Thomas (writer) Sumit Kumar (pencils) Sumit Kumar & Raul Fernandez (inks) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Steve Wands (letters) gathers together some old Batman associates helping Gotham City citizens escape persecution by the Magistrates outside Gotham City's borders. Get it? It was nice seeing Katana in action.

Future State: Arkham Knights by Paul Jenkins (writer) Jack Herbert (art) Gabe Eltaeb (colours) & Rob Leigh (letters) gathers together some of Batman's rogues gallery to fight the oppressive Magistrate. Two-Face, Mr. Zsasz, Dr. Phosphorus, Killer Croc and other ex-inmates of Arkham Asylum are being lead by an armoured Astrid Arkham. It's super villains being super heroes.

Future State: The Next Batman #2 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (breakdowns) Laura Braga (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). We learn the secret identity of the new caped Batman in this issue. It's Lucas Fox's brother. He has a brother? This also has three new back-up stories.

"Batgirls" is by Vita Ayala (writer) Aneke (art) Trish Mulvihill (colours) & Becca Carey (letters). Batgirl/Orphan Cassandra Cain gets locked up in the Magistrate Detention Facility where both good guys/white hats and bad guys/black coats are incarcerated. She got caught on purpose because her mission is to find Oracle and Batman and free them. She gets help from Spoiler who is queen of the inmates. In this reality Cass is way more articulate than she used to be. I didn't like that. I also didn't like that in the other Future State stories the Magistrate foot soldiers have a shoot to kill order for any masks that they encounter. Why are all of these masks alive? Anyways, this part ends with the white hats and black coats forming an alliance so Cass can get on with her mission.

"Gotham City Sirens: Ladies' Night Out" is by Paula Sevenbergen (writer) Rob Haynes (breakdowns) Emanuela Lupacchino (pencils) Wade von Grawbadger (inks) John Kalisz (colours) Becca Carey (letters). Catwoman and Poison Ivy spring a domestic droid named Dee Dee (get it?) from servitude and they have a night on the town at a bar. The bar is run by Sam Bradley and both super heroes and villains can imbibe in peace. Fans of Sex and the City may like this. Not a lot of drama until the last page when the joint is raided by Magistrate goons and major characters are shot.

Future State: The Next Batman #3 - John Ridley (writer) Nick Derington (breakdowns) Laura Braga (art) Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). This is the "uh-oh" moment in the story where the hero is felled by the villain. A wounded Batman is attacked by the murderer he's trying to bring to justice. I saw that coming.

I like the change with Black Lightning in the Outsiders back-up.

I like the art in the Arkham Knights back-up even though the dialogue is eye roll inducing.

Future State: The Next Batman #4 - Jace/Batman lives, as if that was in any doubt. This story would have been a lot more interesting if Bruce/Batman was really dead. Even if the Future State line of comics dies out this Next Batman is a cop out. The Batgirls story ends with Cassandra/Orphan saving Barbara/Oracle and the Resistance gaining ground on the Magistrates. The Gotham City Sirens story ends with Catwoman and Poison Ivy helping the Resistance get an advantage in their war with the Cybers thanks to Dee Dee.

I admit that I was sucked in by the hype for this mini. The Next Batman being black intrigued me. The story itself was meh and I would not have missed anything by not reading it. I was not engaged as a mature reader but I think someone in their teens might like all the stories in these four issues.

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mariequitecontrarie · 4 years

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To Make You Feel My Love

Summary: Rumplestiltskin returns Belle’s heart at the pawnshop. This time, Belle goes after him. Notes: Hey guys, long time, no see! This S4 fix-it has been occupying real estate in my brain for ages. What if Belle had gone after Rumple and we had more than the rushed scene on the pawnshop floor? Thanks to @galactic-pirates for making this a better story! Rating: T Word Count: 7600

On AO3

WILL SCARLET

Will Scarlet is running late, but even though he’d kept Belle waiting at the pawnshop long past supper, his circular thoughts make his steps down Main Street plodding and uncertain.

He wants to resent Rumplestiltskin for ruining his relationship with Belle, but he can’t find fault where there is none. Gold had kept his distance, giving Belle a wide, respectful berth. From what Will had seen, he hadn’t been near the pawnshop, Granny’s, or the library, nor any of Belle’s favorite places.

Hell, he’d been an absolute gentleman.

Until this morning, when Belle had gone to babysit Mary Margaret and David’s Neal Junior. Only then did Rumplestiltskin make his move, cornering Will in the pawnshop. And what Gold told him had changed everything. Learning that Regina was controlling Belle twisted Will’s stomach with disbelief. Is he worried about Belle and what Regina might do next? Certainly. But that isn’t the problem. The blow to his pride is the real sucker punch.

Will pats the precious cargo tucked inside his jacket. His ego doesn’t matter now. He has a job to finish.

Of course, Will cares for Belle. When he met her at Archie Hopper’s birthday party, her sparkling smile and wit had captured his attention right away, and he hadn’t been able to resist asking her to join him for pizza and a pint later that week. They’d chatted long into the evening, and although they didn’t find much common ground, she was fun to talk to. Who wouldn’t enjoy keeping company with a fine lass like Belle? She’s kind, thoughtful, and intelligent. But she’s also more complicated than he anticipated. Too independent, too strong-willed.

Still too in love with her husband.

For the first time in months, Will allows himself to think of Ana. Even though she was often plotting and scheming, being with Ana had been easier somehow. He’d been needed, appreciated. But Belle French Gold didn’t need anything Will Scarlet could offer.

Three weeks into their awkward romance, it’s becoming more obvious by the day that Will is little more than a placeholder.

Like any dating couple, he and Belle spend time together, but always on her terms. Mostly at the pawnshop, sometimes at Granny’s, but always in public and usually with a mountain of chocolate cake between them. It’s Belle’s favorite dessert, and she’s always trying to push a forkful down his gullet. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her he’s allergic to chocolate. She loves her books, stashes them everywhere. There’s even a stack of them at his apartment, although she’s never crossed the threshold. But he’s not much for reading, which is another point against him. Unlike Gold, who clearly shares Belle’s passion for words.

Last week he was searching through the shop drawers for a misplaced ledger when he discovered a book war tally between them, with little notes and quotations scribbled in the margins in two sets of handwriting. He’d quickly buried it in the back of the drawer.

Yeah, the Dark One has more in common with his girlfriend than he does.

Now, as he’s trudging back to the shop with Belle’s heart in a box, he’s still processing the knowledge that without her heart, any emotion or affection she showed him wasn’t real. The worst part is, he didn’t know. He hadn’t seen the difference in a heartless Belle anymore than he would know the difference between Guinness and Beamish when he’s a dozen pints in.

Gold’s visit had blown him out of the water. Concern from someone who really knows her, and for all his sins, truly loves her. Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t have approached him to get Belle’s heart if he hadn’t been desperate.

Much as it irked him to hear the truth from the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin is right; Will doesn’t know Belle as well as he believes. Perhaps he doesn’t know her at all.

So much for boasting about stealing his wife’s affections.

Continuing his plodding pace down Main Street, Will passes the library, then Granny’s. The recent rain has left large cold puddles on the street and his boots make a sloshing sound as he wades through them. The sun is beginning its evening descent, leaving a chill in the dusky air. His wool socks are damp and cold and starting to smell.

Every step brings him closer to his meeting with Rumplestiltskin and the inevitable end of his relationship with Belle. A moment he both dreads and anticipates.

He sidesteps a deep puddle in the middle of Main Street, pausing to take stock of the shop and the box in his hands. The store lights glow from within, casting a message of welcome onto the gloomy, shadowed streets. Through the blinds, he glimpses Belle, standing sentinel over Gold’s domain. Other than its dust-free shelves, everything is as it had been while she and Gold had run the store as husband and wife. If asked she would deny it, but Belle had taken to spending more time puttering around in here than she did at the library with her books.

All along she’d been waiting for Gold to come back. She’d banished him from Storybrooke and then planted herself at the one place to which he would always return. Almost as if daring him to find a way back into town and into her heart.

And today Gold had stormed the shop with a plan to literally win her heart back. It was a fairytale come true, romantic to even the harshest cynic.

Will takes a deep breath and opens the door. As he wipes his sodden boots on the mat inside, Belle greets him with a weary smile. A bag of Granny’s takeout awaits his return on the top of one of the display counters. He tries to croak out a hello, but the box behind his back holding Belle’s heart is slick in his damp palms. He digs his blunt fingernails into the wood, scratching the grain.

May as well get this over with. He shows Belle the box, revealing the crimson heart within. She spreads her hand across her breastbone, her body recognizing its missing heart.

Gold enters the shop through the back door, executing the plan exactly as they had discussed. His power and presence are magnetic, and the lamps seem to flicker in homage. All the energy in the room rushes toward him, ready to obey his every command. Belle’s eyes widen like the saucer that matches her favorite teacup, and Will clamps down on his back teeth. She takes a few steps back, raises a hand in protest, asks Gold why he’s here. The objection is token at best. Even without her heart, Belle’s emotion for Rumplestiltskin is a tangible force.

Will drops back to stand in the shadows, watching, listening, playing his part. Gold commands Belle into Will’s care, his tone laced with resolve and regret.

He’s so stunned by the naked adoration on the Dark One’s face when he returns the heart of the woman he loves, Will barely hears a word.

With Belle’s heart returned to its rightful place, Gold promises not to bother her anymore, but not before another moment passes between them that is so raw and private, Will is embarrassed to have witnessed it.

When he lifts his head, Rumplestiltskin is out the door, and Belle is staring after him like her whole world is gone. Will grasps her hand--a feeble attempt to offer comfort--but she shakes loose of his grip and stares off into the night after Rumplestiltskin, worrying her naked ring finger with her other hand.

Will is resigned; maybe even a little relieved?

There’s nothing left to do but say goodbye.

xoxo

BELLE

What Belle really wants is to feel alive again, to show herself and everyone else in town how capable she is of moving forward, of living a life that doesn’t include Rumple.

Since she banished him from Storybrooke six weeks earlier, advice for nursing her broken heart had come from all sides. Archie prescribed exercise and healthy eating; Granny suggested throwing herself into work; Snow thought she needed to slow down and take more naps.

For a little while, she tried following the suggestions of her friends, but every antidote left her stumbling through her days like a child lost in a fog. Food has no taste, her work at the library seems meaningless, and on the rare nights when she can fall asleep, Rumple follows her into her dreams.

She hasn’t seen him since he came back to Storybrooke, but last night’s dream of standing next to him at the well was so real. When she woke, she felt the warmth of his lips on hers and a peculiar pain in her chest. A royal blue coat she hasn’t worn in ages was draped across the foot of the bed. Odd. She stuffed it into the back of the closet and pulled out the new light pink one.

Eventually, people claimed, it would get easier. Nothing more than a silly platitude, really, but for the last couple of days, she’s struggling to care. She can’t pinpoint when she started to feel this way. All she knows is she would rather sit in the dark with a blanket over her head than face the world.

Will, bless him, is the one bright spot lately. Only he is without judgment; the only person who simply sits quietly at her side without talking, and without offering “101 Ways to Get Over Rumplestiltskin.” Maybe it’s because he loved Anastasia, the Red Queen, who had also made many wrong choices. Maybe it’s because deep down, they’re not expecting anything from each other.

Whatever the reason, he doesn’t demand anything of her, and for that, Belle owes him her gratitude.

xoxo

Granny’s, Last Night Belle sat in a booth opposite Ruby, sipping on her second glass of a new concoction called a Long Island Iced Tea.

Granny promised the combination of cola, liquors, and lemon tasted just like the real thing, so she gave it a try.

Belle doesn’t know why it makes any difference if the fake tea tastes like the original, but Ruby showed up at her house tonight demanding they relax and have a girls’ night. Too tired to argue, she put on the emerald green top and leather skirt Ruby fished out from the back of her closet and here they are.

At least the strange prickling sensation on her tongue and the curious humming in her veins means she’s feeling something. She’s been not quite right for the last few days. Not sick, but not well either. Maybe she should pay a visit to Doctor Whale.

Ruby took a long swig of her drink, a bright red fruity one called a Cosmopolitan. “So, are you still seeing Will?”

It was an odd question, considering she’d had dinner at Granny’s in this exact same booth with Will the night before. Ruby had even been their server.

“We were here together last night,” Belle said. “You swiped some of my curly fries, remember?”

“Oh yeah!”

“Will and I are doing fine,” she said. “Honestly, it’s refreshing to be with someone who’s simple and honest about who they are.”

Ruby giggled around her straw. “A super sweet way of saying he’s boring.”

Belle frowned. Was Ruby trying to confuse her? No one else has questioned her choice in dating Will, and several people have volunteered the viewpoint that both she and the town are better off without Rumplestiltskin in the picture. She hadn’t asked, but since when did that stop anyone?

“You’re always friendly to Will,” she pointed out.

“It’s one thing to be kind to a customer and a member of this town. It’s another to think he’s good for my best friend.” Ruby laughed again, but the shrewd tilt of her head made Belle feel strange and transparent.

She searched for something to say, a way to make Ruby stop giving her that look. “Will is kind. He gave me a rose.” There, that was something.

Ruby snorted. “I’ve read your story in Henry’s book. He’s not the first. Gold-”

Belle held up a hand, cutting her off. “I know who the roses came from.” When they were dating and when they were married, Rumple used to bring her flowers all the time. Often he brought home roses, but sometimes it was peonies and other times wildflowers. They used to enjoy discussing their different meanings. She toyed with the lemon slice floating on top of her drink. Surely she and Will had many things in common, she was just too tired to list them right now. “Will and I both like hiking.”

“Mmmmm. And has Will read any good books lately? If I remember right, you and Gold used to compete to see who could get through the Great Books first.”

“I had no idea you were such a big Rumple fan,” Belle said sarcastically.

She was starting to feel like a contestant on one of those bizarre game shows people watched during the day. Ruby hadn’t objected to her marriage to Rumplestiltskin, but she hadn’t been supportive, either. More like a silent bystander. Suddenly she was jockeying for position as president of his fan club? Belle waved Granny down, hoping to order some chips. Crunchy, salty chips might make her feel better. “So Will’s not a reader, so what?”

“So call me crazy, but I want to see my best friend happy. And with someone who’s happy with her. But Will doesn’t look like a doting boyfriend. Every time I see him, he looks like he’s in pain or halfway to the bottom of a keg.”

“He’s had a tough time,” Belle said, still trying to catch Granny’s eye. “Besides, some people aren’t comfortable expressing emotion.”

“Rumplestiltskin could be the coldest bastard alive,” Ruby said. “But when it came to you, there was never any question about his feelings. His love for you was written all over his face.”

Belle wasn’t sure what to say. Normally, such an impassioned speech would have started the tears yet again. A few weeks ago, she’d even cried in front of Hook, and they were hardly best friends. Being reminded of Rumple always made her chase her choices down the rabbit hole, wondering if she’d been too hasty in sending him away.

Now she only felt tired.

“Come on, Belle. You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me. Wasn’t it at least a little bit exciting?” Ruby leaned her elbows on the table, her eyes sparkling with secret conspiracy. “Being married to Rumplestiltskin?”

Belle gnawed her lip, trying to decide how to answer. The drink was starting to make her forehead feel numb. Perhaps she was imagining it, but Ruby seemed to be looking at her with an expectation akin to hope.

“I suppose...yes, I guess it was,” she admitted. Rumple had vexed her, confused her, but when she was with him, her nerve endings were always on fire. He’d made her feel alive, and she was transfixed by his darkness as much as she had celebrated the light.

Ruby nodded, shifting further forward in her seat. “You loved the excitement, the idea of rehabilitating a monster. Told me so yourself.” She took a long pull on her drink.

“He’s not a monster!” Belle snapped. The denial was a reflex, charged with an emotion she didn’t feel. A few other patrons in the diner turned to look at her, curious about who was yelling, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Jumping to Rumple’s defense was a habit. A meaningless habit. She took a deep breath. “But that wasn’t...Rumple is...there’s no excuse for what he did but he’s still not...that.” What had he done, anyway? Belle couldn’t seem to remember.

She pushed her drink back and forth, wanting nothing more than to abandon this ridiculous evening and go home. But her legs were numb and if she left the table, she might not make it to the door before collapsing in a heap.

What was wrong with her? She really did need to call Whale, but then she would have to explain her symptoms. Difficult, considering she doesn’t know what the problem is, and she dare not bring up the word ‘depression.’ She’s not taking any more of those wacky antipsychotics he had her on when she was in the hospital last year.

At the cash register, Belle noticed Regina picking up a to-go order. It was the first time Belle has seen her today or had she been in the shop earlier? Awareness flickered on the edges of Belle’s consciousness but the feeling floated away as quickly as it came.

Across the table, Ruby snapped her fingers. “Belle? Did you hear me?”

Belle blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“I said I didn’t mean what I said about Gold. I’m sorry.” Ruby gave her hand a squeeze. “Are you okay? Maybe I shouldn’t have dragged you out tonight. I just miss you. We haven’t hung out in a while, but you don’t seem to be having much fun.”

“Forget it, I’m fine.” Belle let her eyes drift shut. “Just tired.”

“I know, sweetie,” Ruby soothed. “And I know you miss Gold. No matter what he’s done, you love him. I worry about you now that he’s back in Storybrooke, though. If he comes to find you, you won’t be able to stay away.”

Annoyance flares for a moment. Ruby thinks she’s weak. They all do.

She could stay away from Rumple if she really tried. She has a new boyfriend; Rumplestiltskin was no longer the only man in Belle French’s life.

“It’s over,” Belle said. “Rumple won’t get to me again.” She lifted her chin, daring Ruby to contradict her, but it didn’t matter.

How could she expect anyone else to believe her when she didn’t believe herself?

xoxo

Belle’s heart feels right inside her chest, strong and sure. Her ribs wrap around the familiar organ, holding it safe and snug. And when she holds her breath, she can feel the warmth of Rumple’s fingers on her heart, his fingers cupping her shoulder, strong yet tender.

She takes another lungful of air, holds it close to feel his phantom touch again.

Yesterday’s memories come surging back, and she almost falls to her knees with their force. At Regina’s urging, she had called Rumple to the well. He came, of course, as he always did when she asked. She’d seen his wounded husk of a heart. Then she’d kissed him. Seconds later, she’d ruined the tender moment with nasty words she didn’t mean to say. Words Regina put in her mouth.

The dream she thought she had was real.

It’s tempting to blame Regina for this mess, but she had walked right into this with her offer to help. Still, she is beyond weary of playing the ‘Use Belle to Get to Rumple Game’. Can’t anyone think of a better way to solve problems?

Fingers reach for hers, seeking to comfort, startling her. Will. She’d forgotten he was there.

His hand is warm but wrong, the fingers too short and thick, the palm too square. It doesn’t fit; they don’t fit.

She shakes him off, her full focus on watching her love walk away until he’s swallowed by the night.

How like Rumple to return her heart and then walk out the door with it all over again.

“Belle,” Will says, breaking into her thoughts again. “What can I do?”

This she recognizes--the consuming need to be something other than helpless. It was what drove her to help Regina yesterday. That, and she hadn’t seen Rumple since he’d been back in town. Regina had given her an easy excuse.

“Rumple’s sick,” she answers, staring at the outline of her reflection in the glass front of the shop. “I didn’t understand what he meant about his black heart. Not until he returned mine. Then I remembered. I saw him yesterday in the woods, by the old well.”

She decides it’s better to leave out the details, like how she’d compared their kisses and told Rumple he was lacking. The truth is, the brief pecks she’s shared with Will don’t come anywhere close to what Rumple makes her feel, and there’s no reason to hurt him.

“Figured it was something like that.” He takes a step closer but doesn’t attempt to touch her again. “Gold was the one who told me your heart had been stolen. He asked for my help.”

“Thank you.” She isn’t sure if she is grateful for his part in returning her heart or because he had allied with Rumple to do it. Rumple prided himself on working alone, and it was entirely out of character for him to trust anyone else with what needed doing. More than suspicious, Rumple asking Will for help was downright frightening.

A sign, she fears, of how weak his heart is becoming.

The idea of Rumple hurting and alone makes her dizzy with worry. Outside, droplets from this afternoon’s rain roll down the windows, little pin drops of light in the blackness. In the glass, she sees the bloated reflection of Will’s takeaway dinner from Granny’s sitting on the counter, the turkey melt and fries within long since gone cold.

It’s only been a few minutes since Rumple left the pawnshop, but it feels as though a lifetime has passed.

“What would you do if Anastasia was in trouble?” she asks Will, still facing the dark street. They haven’t talked much about each other’s past loves. Belle only knows that Will left Wonderland heartbroken and came to Storybrooke to heal and find a fresh start. She’s been equally quiet about Rumple.

“If this were Ana, I would give anything to be there for her.” Will sounds wistful. “For all her faults, there’s still good in her. In Rumplestiltskin, too, I’d wager.”

Will is quiet for a long moment, then asks the question. “Do you still love him?”

It’s an out, Belle realizes. He’s setting her free.

A tear runs down her cheek, and she turns to face the man who made her first few weeks without Rumplestiltskin a little easier. Will is a wonderful person, he’s just not the person for her “I do love him,” she whispers.

“Then fight for him. Go.” He nods toward the door.

Belle wastes no more time in hurrying after Rumple. They both know Will won’t be there when she returns.

The cold air hits her face and she squints into the dark, half-expecting Rumple to have vanished into thin air in one of his impressive parlor tricks. He’s nowhere in sight, so she picks a direction on instinct, splashing through frigid puddles as she runs on sheer hope, mindless of her soaked shoes.

It doesn’t take her long to catch him, and she pulls to a stop right outside the library doors.

“Rumple, wait!”

He stops walking away and turns, his forehead wrinkling with worry. “Belle, what are you doing out here in the cold? Are you okay?” He glances at her chest, where he’d replaced her heart mere moments earlier, and Belle looks down at her blouse. She’d run out of the shop without her coat.

“I should be asking you that question.” His face is ashen and his breathing shallow, pale fingers clutching the edges of his overcoat.

His rigid jaw softens at her concern and he looks at her like he's her husband, instead of someone she used to know. The way he looked at her scant minutes ago when he returned her heart. “Yes, well. Poison consuming your heart from the inside out will tend to have that effect.”

“Where are you staying?” She waves back toward the shop where the car is parked around the side. “I’ll drive you.”

“The cabin.” He tries to disguise a shiver.

“With Cruella?” She suddenly remembers hearing from Snow and David that Maleficent and Ursula had also been there with him. His evil dream team.

Taking in the worn sight of him, she tamps down on the urge to remind him that more nefarious plans won’t fix the current mess. To anyone else, he would appear healthy. Only she sees the brokenness behind his proud, well-dressed exterior. In all the years she’s known him, he’s never needed sleep, never felt the bite of winter air. Tonight his eyes are dark shadows, reflecting exhaustion, and he’s shivering in the cold.

“Come on.” She takes his arm, steering him in the direction of the car, and he allows himself to be led down the sidewalk.

He hadn’t asked for her help; then again, he never does. No expectations mean no disappointments.

Belle can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever trust her enough to take what she offers. This, she supposes as they walk arm-in-arm down the block together, is a start. xoxo

RUMPLESTILTSKIN

Rumplestiltskin isn’t sure what he expected when Belle chased him down the street and insisted on driving him somewhere, but coming back to their old home wasn’t on his list of possibilities.

The weakened state of his heart has made him careless and he’d nodded off in the car, his forehead pressed against the passenger side window. He’d woken up to find the car already parked in the driveway as if by magic, then followed Belle into the house as docile as a lamb.

Out of habit, Rumplestiltskin heads for the den and crouches before the hearth to start a fire. Back when life was good, relaxing in front of a good blaze was one of their favorite ways to spend a quiet evening. Belle would read, stopping now and then to laugh or read a passage aloud for his entertainment; he would make tea for her and pour whiskey for himself, then settle in the leather armchair to review paperwork from the shop. Occasionally, he would simply stare into the flames and think.

He hasn’t been here since she banished him from Storybrooke, and he’s surprised to see how little has changed. He expected Belle would have moved into the apartment above the library. But from the piles of books stacked on the floors and the warm, comforting aromas of paper and vanilla in the air, he can tell she’s been living here. Half-burned candles are clustered on the dust-free coffee and end tables, and a throw blanket they bought together is slung over the back of the leather sofa. He wonders if his suits are still hanging in the master bedroom closet.

Belle has been living here where they’d lived as husband and wife. Hope kindles in his spirit like the embers glowing in the grate. Maybe Belle still feels something for him, or perhaps all these creature comforts tell of evenings she’s been spending here with Will.

Will is the better man, that’s certain. Honorable, strong, caring. Rumplestiltskin simply counts himself a lucky bastard for having Belle in his life for as long as he did. How he talked her into marrying him, he has no idea.

In truth, he never expected her to say yes.

Knowing his failings as a husband doesn’t remove the sting of feeling replaced. Will is such a better kisser than you are. Those were the exact words Belle said to him yesterday at the well.

And gods, do they hurt.

He can’t fault Belle when Regina played puppeteer with her heart, forcing her to do and say things she didn’t mean. But what if she had meant it? Wasn’t there a grain of truth in every lie?

He focuses on the fire, punishing the log as he pretends Will Scarlet’s skull is on the other end of the hot poker clenched in his fist. The embers stir to life and before long, he has a strong blaze going. At least he can still do this right.

“Thank you,” Belle says quietly, coming to stand beside him. Her shoes are gone and she’s bundled into the old blue sweater she keeps tucked in the foyer closet. She holds out her hands, letting the fire warm her chilled fingertips. Her hands are always cold; such an odd contrast to her warm, generous heart.

Why she’s brought him here, he has no idea, but he’s helpless to do anything but wait for an explanation. His heart aches with the sort of physical pain he hasn’t felt in two hundred years and he can barely keep his feet. Moreover, he doesn’t have the strength to teleport away even if he wanted to escape.

Belle’s heart now restored, he doubts she is a pawn in another trick. Besides, this is Belle. Guileless, compassionate, beautiful Belle. Not for a moment does he believe she would hurt him of her own volition. Darkness and pain changed a person, though. He knows this better than most. He also knows he exposed her to harsh amounts of both. His wife. The one he’d sworn to love and protect until death. He is unworthy of her, which is why he returned her heart and entrusted her to Will.

So why isn’t she with him now?

“Shouldn’t you...where is Will?” He turns toward her, using the light of the fire to search her expressive face for answers. Is she smiling, frowning, biting her lip? He loves every little sign that tells him what she’s thinking.

She presses her lips together as if measuring her words. “You and I have things to say to each other.”

“But I thought the two of you were getting on.” Gods, he sounds like a village matchmaker. All he wants is for Belle to be happy, even if it’s not with him.

Her forehead crinkles the way it does whenever she’s thinking. “We’ve gone out a couple of times. Our relationship is simple. No complications. With Will, what you see is what you get.”

“And with me?”

Her laughter is tired, but at least she is smiling. “With you, nothing is simple.”

The truth in those words is indisputable, but it’s also one of the reasons she loves him or at least used to love him. He has no idea how she feels about him anymore, and her passionate kiss at the well yesterday has left him even more confused.

“Long ago, you told me love is layered. A mystery to be uncovered.” He smiles a little, remembering that day in his castle with fondness. He presented her a rose with a flourishing bow, and she’d not only accepted it, she’d liked it. And he’d fallen stupidly, hopelessly in love with her.

“And so it is.” She lifts her hands toward him, the arms of her too-large sweater sagging down to brush the top of her ribcage. “May I take your coat?”

She folds his overcoat neatly, the way he likes, and drapes it over the side of the leather armchair in the corner. His old chair. Does she mean for him to sit there? Before he can ask, she moves to the sofa and sits, patting the cushion beside her. Inviting him closer, but not too close.

“You look like you need to sit down,” she says. “Maybe you could tell me about New York?”

“All right.” Gold sinks slowly into the opposite cushion of the sofa, trying to make it look more like a choice than a need. The weakness of his heart is making harsh demands on his body and his legs wobble like a new colt, even when he’s off his feet. He rubs his fingers together, considering where to start his story. He’s not proud of the craven alliances he made with Ursula and Cruella, or of tricking Belle into thinking he was an Oxford linguistics scholar, or of releasing a Chernabog to get back into town. As for his hellish five weeks in the city, he’d rather forget about flatlining in a hospital bed and nearly dying at Zelena’s hand.

But Belle’s face is alive with interest, the way it had been in the Enchanted Forest when he returned from errands in far off kingdoms like Camelot and Arendelle. She would pour tea for both of them, steaming and sweet, and beg him to tell her about his adventures. It dawns on him that he’d promised her a honeymoon; that trip was meant to be the first leg of her long-cherished dream to see the world.

Until he’d stolen her hopes with his deceit.

When he looks at her again, she’s huddled beneath her blanket with her feet tucked under her knees, waiting for him to begin.

Belle relishes nothing more than a good story, and the least he can do is describe a place he’s been to that she longs to see, even if his visit was anything but a vacation. So he reclines against the back of the sofa and begins to talk, describing the flashing lights, bright yellow taxi cabs, and bustling sidewalks. Buildings so tall they chased the stars. Theatres, food trucks, Central Park bursting into bloom. The wonderful, lively madness of New York.

Belle listens with rapt attention, her shoulders hunched toward him in anticipation. And so he digs deeper, into the darker aspects of the city, telling her of roaming the streets without magic, seeking warmth from a fire in a trash can under a bridge, microwaving ramen noodles swathed in a ratty bathrobe, sleeping on a sagging couch in the dank, third-floor flat he shared with Ursula.

He tells her the skies are blacker in New York than in Maine because the bright billboards and digital signs eclipse the starlight. He even admits to collapsing in Neal’s old apartment and almost dying in the hospital, stopping short of telling her how frightened he’d been. How he’d longed to call her like he had the last time he was dying, but he didn’t think she wanted to hear from him. Details about Zelena and the potion that jump-started his heart will have to wait.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Belle,” he says when he finishes his tale. They both know he doesn’t mean his talking tour of New York City.

“But I do understand, Rumple. I do.”

While he’d been speaking, she’d come closer, until she’s almost sitting on his side of the sofa. Now she reaches for him, lightly resting her palm over the back of his hand. “All you really wanted was to come home. And if all those decisions led you here, then I’m grateful.”

So she hadn’t wanted him banished for good. Relief at being welcomed, even in this small way, eases the burden of hurt he’s carried all these weeks.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says. “And for getting my heart back. I didn’t get a chance to say it back at the shop.”

He averts his gaze from the compassion in hers. Those angel eyes saw the good in many devils, him most of all. “I deserve everything that happened to me. That’s why I left you with Will. I-” he stops as his chest hitches with another pain and she squeezes his fingers “-soon my heart will be completely black and there will be no love left inside me. The man you saw good in will be gone. I’m not worth...you shouldn’t bother.” He finishes with a wheeze.

“When it comes to you, you’re fond of telling me what I’m supposed to want and think and feel.” She wags a finger, her frustration a tangled web between them. “Why don’t you let me decide what is and is not worth the bother?”

The boldness of her devotion continues to astound him.

When he held her heart in his hands earlier tonight, he’d felt the strength of it. A heart untouched by dark deeds, young, strong, so full of love. Each heart has a unique life force, an imprint of the one to whom it belongs. He’s used, stolen, and crushed more than his share. Tonight was the first time he’d ever returned one. Restless, he shifts on the sofa, trying to get comfortable. When that fails, he tries to rise. “I really need…” He falls back against the cushion. Damn this infernal weakness! His focus needs to be on getting that wretched Author to rewrite his story, to keep the Dark One from overtaking his soul, but he can’t control his own limbs. Even magic, his oldest, darkest friend, is failing him.

“What you really need is to let me help you,” she says. “Will you?”

His breath is growing short, and he shrinks into the corner of the sofa with a groan. Gods, his chest burns, but he doesn’t want to be an obligation or a heroic duty she feels honor-bound to carry out. “You want to help me for the sake of the town? To protect them from the beast? Or because a hero always helps people?”

She puts her hands on his shoulders, the pressure of her fingers demanding that he look at her. He does, only to find bright blue eyes swimming with tears.

“This isn’t about being a hero,” she says. “I want to help because I care about you. It’s like I told you at the well yesterday and again tonight, I’ve seen your heart and I do understand. Despite everything, I have faith in you.”

She lets go of his shoulders, and he wants to weep with the loss of her touch. Instead, he focuses on her offer of help. “What do you have in mind?”

“Tomorrow, I’ll go with you to see this Author of yours. But first, rest. You’re in no condition to go anywhere tonight, Rumple,” she says. “ Take off your jacket.”

He almost laughs at her order. Despite the cloak of sadness and exhaustion surrounding them, Belle is unflinchingly direct. He attempts to struggle out of the garment, nearly ripping it before she smooths her hands down his arms again, easing him out of the sleeves.

Her hands fall to unbutton his waistcoat and tie, her teeth scraping her lower lip in concentration. “What are you doing?” he asks, though it’s fairly obvious she’s disrobing him here in the den.

“Don’t worry.” Aware of his sense of propriety, she shrugs. “I’m making you more comfortable.”

Again he wonders what Will would think about them being here together. He wants to ask again, but with the new understanding building between them, their intimacy is as fragile as a chipped china cup.

Belle edges to the far end of the sofa, then pats her legs in invitation. “Stretch out.”

Too tired to argue, he unlaces his shoes and removes them, then eases down until his head and shoulders are cradled in her lap. He settles on his side, accepting her comfort, but facing away from her to watch his red striped socks flicker in the firelight.

Their bodies throw shadows on the wallpaper as evening melts into night, enrobing them like a warm blanket. They’re quiet for a long time, and only the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock and the crackle of the fire enter the silence.

Staring into the fire with the warmth of Belle’s body cradling his head and her faint scent of roses and vanilla, he feels safe for the first time in many months.

Safe enough to ask the question that’s been puzzling him since he came back to town.

He shifts in her lap so he faces the ceiling, turning his head upward to see her face. “Why did you stay here in Storybrooke after I left? You could have traveled, seen the world. You still can. Will and you could-”

“There is no Will and me,” she interrupts, her fingers brushing back the annoying piece of hair that always falls across his forehead. “There never really was.”

He sucks in a breath, a rush of hope making his ruined heart beat triple time. “What do you mean?”

“Will is a good man.” He studies her expression. She smiles fondly when she talks about him, but no excitement lights her features the way it does when she talks about her books or learning something new. “Spending time with him was pleasant, but I think what we were both looking for was an escape from past hurts.”

The reminder that he is the cause of Belle’s pain makes him wince. “I’m sorry, Belle. And I know no number of apologies can make up for what I’ve done.”

He feels the weight of her hurt in her sigh. “I know, Rumple. I’m not angry with you, but I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive, either. After I saw your face again for the first time, with my heart, Will and I both knew it wasn’t right. I knew I could never love him the way…” She trails off, pressing her lips together. “I’m not saying I’m ready to be with you again, I’m not. And I might never be.”

They fall silent again, leaving him plenty of time to think over her words. What she’s given him tonight is enough. Time is the ultimate healer. Someday he might have the chance to earn her love, to become worthy of her. If he can get his heart working properly again.

Her cool fingers stroke his forehead in rhythmic motions, and he lets his eyes drift closed, savoring this stolen moment of peace.

“Can I see it again?” she whispers. “Your heart?”

“You’re the only one I trust with it,” he answers. He sits up to remove it from his chest--ugly, black, and cold--and gives it to her. She curls her fingers around it, cradles it in her palms like a precious object. Tears sting his eyes and he can almost feel her holding it.

With her eyes on his, she lifts the husk to her mouth and places a kiss on the flickering red core. The tender brush of her lips touches his soul. Perhaps he merely conjures the image of his heart glowing brighter with her kiss, but there’s no mistaking the surge of energy he feels. True love is potent magic indeed.

She places his heart back against his chest, and he guides her movements, allowing her to press it home.

“Let me do something for you now; something I should have done long ago,” he says. “Your heart, I want to protect it.”

It had been foolish of him not to have done this years ago. Blinded by the arrogance of power, he assumed he would always be by her side, protecting her. Now he must ensure that no one--not Regina, nor anyone else--will ever be able to control Belle again.

More importantly, he must make Belle feel his love in the only way he can while he still has the strength. Before the darkness consumes him for good, leaving nothing more than a black void, wretched and evil. “But the price. You’re so weak.” She bites her lower lip, no doubt confused by his urgency.

“I’ll pay any price. To me, the cost of you being hurt again is far greater.” Weeks, days, maybe mere hours remain before his heart turns to stone. And the weaker his heart becomes, the more volatile and unstable the darkness inside him will become. If the darkness escapes, not even he knows what will happen next. “Please sweet-” he stops, swallowing the endearment. He has lost the right to speak words of love. “Belle. Allow me to do this.”

A wobbly nod signals her acceptance, and he leads her to stand facing him between the sofa and the fireplace.

“Close your eyes, my love.” He places both hands in the center of her chest, careful not to touch the upper swells of her breasts even through the layers of fabric she wears. The powerful thrum of her heart seems to burn through her clothing, singeing his fingertips. It’s as though her heart has a mind of its own and understands what he must do.

Calling on all the love he feels for her, he channels the purest of magic. No darkness tonight. Soon a shimmer flows from his hands and into her body, and he sees a light so clear and true the den is illuminated as a brilliant summer day. Even the air is warm and sweet.

The force of the magic knocks them both backward and they reach out, catching each other. Together they stagger back to the sofa where he collapses, wrung dry from the exertion of conjuring the spell.

Sweat has beaded on his brow, and he feels Belle wiping it away with the soft hem of her sweater. Arms encircle him, pulling him close against her body.

“I feel warm,” she murmurs into the top of his head. “Safe.”

“The protection spell,” he slurs against her chest, his words thick and drowsy. “Makes you warm. Makes me tired.”

“Sleep now,” she urges, beginning to once more stroke his hair. “I’ll protect you. And tomorrow we’ll see the Author.”

He smiles through his exhaustion--his darling, wonderful, brave Belle--and lets his eyes drift shut.

They are far from whole, but with the truth out in the open, they are better tonight than they’ve been in a long time, maybe ever. Despite his many sins, she chooses to see the best in him. So he honors her choice with one of his own: he chooses to keep fighting, trying to be the good man she sees.

In truth, he’s terrified of tomorrow. He doesn’t want to die. But with Belle’s love on his side, this old husk of a heart will never give up.

###

THE END

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle angst #rumbelle fix #fix-it #belle gold #rumplestiltskin #will scarlet #mqc writes #to make you feel my love

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Weird “Empty Eyes”

So, someone recently asked for this, It has more to do with the overall story-line than the humans are Weird tag, It’s mostly for background context from Vir’s Mother’s perspective because I want you to understand something important if you are interested in the overall story-line.

So, feel free to ask questions and request prompts or Ideas.

Light streamed in through the open window and past the gently rocking gauzy curtains. Martha Vir stood at the sink absently washing dishes and watching the sunlight glitter across the wet grass of her front yard. It smelled like summer.

The screen door at the front of the house opened, and then crashed closed almost violently making her jump and spill soapy dishwater all down her front. “Shoot.” She muttered drying her hands and turning her head towards the door, “Adam?” She wondered, but all she saw was a discarded backpack by the door.

She set the dishrag down on the counter and moved back into the house peering past the doorframe and into the last room on the left.

The small, skinny, blond boy wearing tan shorts and a black T-shirt lay flat on his bed face in his arms. His oversized sneakers hung over the side of the bed. His shoulders shook softly.

Inside she felt a twinge of anger knowing what this might be about, but she kept her composure and sat down next to him resting a hand on his back, “Adam, sweetheart what’s wrong.” He didn’t answer immediately, but he never did, so she waited. Adam never liked showing emotion in front of anyone, so it would take him a minute to calm down enough for him to speak. She looked around the room, at the Star-Wars, Star Trek, Alien, Predator, Battle LA, Interstellar, and a multitude of other posters new and VERY old covering the walls. A big white telescope pointed out the window, and a big-headed stuffed little green alien sat slumped on the bed.

Eventually a mumbled voice.

“What was that?”

The boy sat up angrily chest heaving with the occasional after-sob. He turned his head away quickly, but his big-green eyes were wide with tears. “I-I don’t w-want to g….go to school a-anymore.”

“Those other kids being mean to you again.”

A slight nod, “They s-said I’m stupid b-because aliens aren’t real. I t-tried to explain how b-big the universe is and s-so their m-must be aliens but, but they just wouldn’t listen,”

Martha shrugged, “So, Guess this just means you’ll have to prove them wrong.”

***

“If I start taking classes early, and then graduate, I can have my Bachelors in Aviation. Plus Staff Sergeant Jackson said that if I join the ROTC program, the army will PAY for everting, and I might be able to get my pilot’s license.” The lanky teen bounced on the balls of his feet scruffy blond hair bouncing with him, she very much wished he would cut it. The way he had it now made him look like a boy band reject. “And then if I become a fighter pilot, they’ll have to let me into the Space Corpse.”

Across the room Thomas snorted from where he sat watching TV, “Good luck with that little bro. You gotta pass a PT test to join the army, and you get blown over in a strong wind.”

A loud SMACK, and Thomas yelped, “Shut up, Adam can do whatever he wants.” David grinned at him from across the room, “Go for it kid, you’ll do great.”

Martha Smiled David and turned to Adam again, “David’s right Adam, we believe in you, and if this is what you really want than we have no doubt you can do it.” She glanced at her second youngest son, “Even Thomas.”

***

“I Adam Allen Vir having been appointed a Lieutenant in the United Nations Space Corpse, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend planet Earth against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter.”

Martha Vir felt her eyes fill with tears, which she wiped quickly on her sleeve. Her boy stood tall in his sharp black uniform, white gloves, belt and cap. When had he gotten so big! About 6. 2 and 180 pounds he had really come into his own, and that serious face. She watched as the other young men and women took the oath as well before the ceremony broke, and she watched that same characteristic smile split the young man’s face. He waded through the crowd pulling off his cap and hugging her as she hugged him back.

Tears in her eyes she straightened out his uniform as his father and brothers swarmed them clapping him on the back.

“I’m proud of you.” she whispered quietly

***

She thought she was going to be sick watching as the jet roared over the staging ground one taking right the other veering left, and the last one tipping into a stomach churning vertical climb spinning upside down and then plunging towards the ground with a distant roar She covered her eyes.

I’ll be in that middle one.

At her side, her husband cheered with all the strength he had in his lugs, clapping and whooping like a madman as if their son wasn’t piloting that 30 million dollar flying metal death trap. Her daughter and her oldest son stood close by keeping her granddaughter, Kimber, entertained in the hot afternoon sun.

She was relieved standing on the tarmac watching as the fighter-jets powered down, and their occupants stepped down from the cockpits. Adam came down the ladder wearing his jumpsuit, oxygen mask hanging off to the side under his helmet. Upon seeing them, he came jogging up pulling off his helmet to hang under his arm.

“Seven Gs!” He chimed enthusiastically, “Better than any rollercoaster ever.” He was grinning in that way he did only when super excited about something, and why shouldn’t he be?

She put a hand to her head, “Don’t sound so excited about being close to death, Adam, it worries me.”

He laughed walked over and hugged her, “Sorry mom…. but…. I didn’t just call you here to see my fly.”

Jeremy stepped forward, still holding Kimber, “Yeah, woo wanted us to see the Enterprise launch.”

“Well yeah….. I, because I got onto the crew. I’m going with them.”

And she had to watch him go….. Knowing that he might never come back, but she kept quiet. If he did vanish, he would do so doing what he always wanted.

***

She still remembered the day she got the call, before the news outlets, before the neighbors, after the government. It was full of static, barely audible, but she would have known her son’s voice anywhere. “Mom-we-found-them! I-found-them…..”

She felt her body go cold and warm and then just shock.

He actually did it. They actually did it.

***

She got updates from him regularly, from all across the universe. It felt surreal, but then the pictures started showing up. The crew of the Enterprise standing on an alien planet taking selfies with….. with CREATURES, Adam always in the middle with a thumbs up for her and a big grin.

***

And then a video call. A video chat of her boy sitting there wide green eyes staring solemnly into the camera.

“The Galactic Assembly has asked Earth to offer some assistance with an upcoming conflict. The Drev made contact about the same time we did, but they are warlike, they are dangerous, and they could potentially bring the Galactic Assembly to its knees, if we don’t help…. There’s nothing else to do. “He shifted nervously in his seat, “We are heading out tomorrow….. I really don’t want any of you to worry, but, the ash clouds will be too dangerous for our jets, so they are putting me in with the infantry. The captain said my unit would probably be well back from the main fighting, so, it should be ok…. I love you guys, stay safe.”

And then they lost contact. She kept her eyes closely on the news looking for any clue as to the infantry divisions and the positions watching as the red dots changed weak by weak, and then watching as her son’s position was supposedly overrun.

She remembered talk of the Steel-eye division, but still no contact.

She remembered when they won, and she remembered when they received the call, to pick up their son because he was coming home.

***

She remembered watching him limp from the terminal doors on crutches….. and a metal rod instead of a leg. Her heart had frozen. She looked into his face and saw the emptiness in his wide green eyes. The wonder, the joy, the fun snuffed out like a candle. All she saw was emptiness, and pain. He had been hurt, betrayed by the one thing he had most loved.

She had never understood what hatred was.

They had cried together that first night, and for the first time in almost a year she held him in her arms, and then…. Nothing. He wouldn’t let her touch him, he wouldn’t talk, he lost weight, and he gave up on living trapped in a continual state of fear, paranoia and emotionless apathy.

She had never understood hate, until she knelt outside his door , tearstained, desperate hoping and begging that he would be alive come morning. Pleading that he would just unlock the door, just let them in.

She had never understood hate until she watched him struggle from the hole those alien bastards had put him in dragged from his misery by a real good girl, an angel with four legs. She watched the spark come back, watched him smile for the first time in months, watched him gain back the weight, watch him run for the first time on the shiny new prosthetic, and she had cried when he made his decision to return to the stars.

And despite all his recovery, his promotion, the christening of his own starship, and his first voyage as captain, she never totally forgot the hatred that she felt on that day, let it burrow inside her and fester.

When he brought home the little Doctor alien, Krill, she had been so relieved. Finally someone sensible, logical, with enough fear to keep her son in check, someone who might be able to take care of him. An alien friend that was safe, that would make him smile.

***

And so she sat, harboring that hatred from so long ago as she stared out the open back door and into the night. Watching as that THING sat with her son. The thing that called itself Sunny, a cute happy little name like it wasn’t a war machine, the killer that had stolen her boy from her, stolen pieces of him.

The creature lay on her back gazing at the stars as her boy walked up nudging her arm with a foot Krill trailing behind in a warm June night, “Come on, Sunny, make some room. Least you can do is give me a pillow for an hour.”

She felt her blood go cold as the creature moved an arm, and her boy made himself comfortable in the cook of its arm. The same arm that had caused him so much pain not so many years ago, her like she was a pillow.

“See that Sunny, Pretty sure your planet’s in that system if I have my astronomy correct.” The creature hummed as if in pleasure.

A soft set of footsteps behind her, arms around her, and the soft voice of her husband, a man who never spoke, “You need to let it go. Can’t you see what you’ll do to him if you don’t?”

The empty green eyes stared into her soul from the past.

“I don’t know how.”

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tonystarkbingo · 4 years

Photo

TSB Week 7 Roundup!

Badge Earners:

Katling betheflame summerpipedream

And now our fills for this week! Click through to check them out and make sure to leave some love!

Title: Full Spread Collaborator: camichats Link: AO3 Square Filled: A1 - Photoshoot Ship: FrostIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Tony agreed to marry Jotun Prince Loki for the sake of Asgard’s alliance with Jotunheim. They’re home and learning what it means to be together, but the rest of the world wants to know what they’re like too. Pepper convinces Tony to agree to a photoshoot, officially presenting Tony Stark and his husband Loki to Earth. Word Count: 13,238

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Title: Nose Kiss Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K4 - Nose Kiss Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Some after-battle nose rubs. Word Count: None [Art]

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Title: Crash Landing Collaborator: turtlesse Link: AO3 Square Filled: S3 - Major Injuries Ship: FrostIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Loki should have known his day would get worse. It had started to get better, too, but no. That wasn’t his life. Word Count: 3026

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Title: N/A Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R5 - May Parker Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: Back to the basics for Aunt May!

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Title: Happiness is spelled (without modesty) Collaborator: HogwartsToAlexandria Link: AO3 Square Filled: R4 - No Modesty Ship: Pepperony Rating: Mature Major Tags: sexual content Summary: Now that Morgan is older and summer's rolled around, Pepper and Tony are able to find solace in every little moment they get. Word Count: 566

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Title: N/A Collaborator: Link: Tumblr Square Filled: T3 - Alien Planet Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: I love putting Tony and Stars together :

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Title: i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair - Chapter 2: ii. Collaborator: deathsweetqueen Link: AO3 Square Filled: R3 - Afghanistan Trip Ship: PepperStony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Soulmate AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Indian Tony Stark, Hindu Tony Stark, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Pepper Potts' Mother's A+ Parenting, Smut, Dirty Talk, Self-Esteem Issues, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Summary: Virginia Potts meets Tony Stark three years after she starts working in the accounting department of Stark Industries. She’s had the name of two soulmates written on her wrists since she was eleven years old. One says Anthony Edward Stark and the other says, Steven Grant Rogers. Virginia knows that Anthony Edward Stark is her boss, her top boss, the guy at the highest end of the totem pole, and she knows that Steven Grant Rogers was Captain America and he’s been dead since 1945. Word Count: 12,284

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Title: Welcome to Chaos Collaborator: trashcanakin Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K4 - Scott Lang/Ant-Man Ship: IronAnt Rating: Teen Major Tags: Dystopian AU, Canon Typical Violence Summary: A “game” called Chaos was created that forcefully sucks people into it, and in order to escape the game, you have to win… but as in all games; there are rules. Word Count: [Moodboard] N/A

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Title: Velvet Glove Collaborator: HogwartsToAlexandria Link: AO3 Square Filled: S3 - Laughter Ship: Tony/Pepper/Nat Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Porn Without Plot Summary: Off-days are far in-between for two members of the Avengers and their CEO wife, so they take advantage of them. Of course they do. Word Count: 910

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Title: Tony Stark, Fairy Godbillionaire Collaborator: RoseRose Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - First Date Ship: Stuckony Rating: Teen Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Tony Stark receives an invitation to Steve and Bucky's wedding. He has absolutely no idea who they are. For their chutzpah, he decides to pay for everything for their wedding- and hop into the planning to make sure they get the best of the best.They end up falling in love. Word Count: 1020

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Title: [Moodboard] N/A Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A5 - Adopting a Pet Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: None Summary: Tony: You said you wanted a pet.Bucky: Cat. I said I wanted a cat. Word Count: N/A

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Title: let the soft animal of your body love what it loves - Chapter 12: xii. Collaborator: deathsweetqueen Link: AO3 Square Filled: A4 - damsels (and others) in distress Ship: Stony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Time Travel, Endgame Steve goes back in time to be with Post AOU Tony, Explicit Sexual Content, Dirty Talk, Past Domestic Violence, Post AOU AU, Breaking Up and Making Up, Marriage Counselling, Superfamily, Team Iron Man, but not Steve unfriendly, he's just a moron, a lot of fighting and arguments, Dubious Consent due to Identity Issues Summary: In 2023, Steve Rogers, after burning his husband's body, goes through the timelines to return each of the Infinity Stones. Word Count: 53,366

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Title: Mornings Like These Collaborator: BennyBatch Link: AO3 Square Filled: A5 - I love you 3000 Ship: FrostIron Rating: Mature Major Tags: Fluff and Smut Summary: Tony Stark never thought he would be so lucky, but here he is--happy, and the man sleeping to his right is the one to thank for it. Word Count: 1437

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Title: Don't Feed The Experiments Collaborator: MagicaDraconia16 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Iron Mouse Image Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: Crack ahoy? Summary: When feeding the experiments, please ensure that you don't get blood in their food. Or give them heightened intelligence. Yes, Mr Stark, we're looking at you. Word Count: 300

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Title: Love is Comfortable Collaborator: lbibliophile-mcu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: S3 - limping Ship: Pepper/Natasha Rating: Gen Major Tags: moodboard Summary: As a woman, being beautiful is painful. So when they’re together they prefer to be cozy.

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Title: Swirlin’ On You Babe Collaborator: camichats Link: AO3 Square Filled: T5 - Kink: Stripping Ship: IronWidow Rating: Mature Major Tags: sex worker, lap dance Summary: Tony is hanging out a strip club, and he sees one worker in particular that he'd like to take home. His night gets a hell of a lot better when she says yes. Word Count: 1241

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Title: Tiny Tony Cutie Collaborator: rebelmeg Link: Tumblr Square Filled: A3 - free space Ship: none Rating: Gen Major Tags: fandom craft Summary: Mini Tony Stark cross stitch cutie magnet

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Title: Shenanigans Collaborator: rebirthofaphoenix Link: Tumblr Square Filled: R5 - denial Ship: Rocket/Wade/Tony/Loki Rating: Teen Major Tags: moodboard, human Rocket, idiotic men who don’t realize they’re together, flying humans Summary: peacock - Tony, African Grey - Wade, screech owl - Rocket, crow - Loki

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Title: In My Dreams I Turn You On - Chapter One Collaborator: ceealaina Link: AO3 Square Filled: K4 - Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier Ship: WinterIron Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers Summary: Tony’s crushing hard on his new massage therapist, but doesn’t want to be a sleazy businessman. Bucky’s crushing hard on his latest client, but doesn’t want to take advantage of him in a vulnerable position. So they handle it like any sane adults - pretend it’s not happening and refuse to discuss it. At least they both have terrible friends to help them through it. Word Count: 4259

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Title: Surprise! It’s an Omega! Collaborator: alexisriversong Link: AO3 Square Filled: K5 - Kink: Rushed Sex Ship: Stucky Rating: Explicit Major Tags: A/B/O Summary: Setting right after the end of the Beauty and the Beast AU, basically, the same plot as the movie but with alpha/omega/beta and the Avengers team. Not really necessary to read the first fic, but in some places might not make sense without reading that first. Word Count: 1136

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Title: i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair Collaborator: Simi Link: AO3 Square Filled: T3 - IMAGE: Tony has a heart Ship: PepperStony Rating: Explicit Major Tags: Soulmate AU Summary: Virginia Potts meets Tony Stark three years after she starts working in the accounting department of Stark Industries. She’s had the name of two soulmates written on her wrists since she was eleven years old. One says Anthony Edward Stark and the other says, Steven Grant Rogers. Virginia knows that Anthony Edward Stark is her boss, her top boss, the guy at the highest end of the totem pole, and she knows that Steven Grant Rogers was Captain America and he’s been dead since 1945. Word Count: 17,166

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Title: Flying My Way Collaborator: tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - AU: Star Wars Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: None Summary: Word Count: 1484

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Title: Hadid Collaborator: thudworm Link: AO3 Square Filled: S1 - AU: Dragon Riders Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Mutual Pining Summary: An AU of Iron Man 1, now with added dragons. Word Count: 1472

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Title: YSMIR Collaborator: endrega23 Link: AO3 Square Filled: S2 - Dark Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: Light Angst Summary: YSMIR (do not attempt to recreate at home) First, take twenty to thirty tablespoons of challenge. Sprinkle it with a pinch of bet, and add some brotherly competition according to your taste and a slice of one-upmanship. Let it sit and stew, then, at the critical moment, add it to a nightmare-fueled, sleep-deprived inventing binge. Be sure to separate it from any moderating influence, or it won't produce the desired effect. Finally, pour it into a genius, and wait. Word Count: 3593

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Title: Tony Stark Has a Heart Collaborator: thud worm Link: AO3 Square Filled: S4 - [Image] Tony has a heart Ship: N/A Rating: Gen Major Tags: PTSD, Flashbacks Summary: Tony isn’t a complete idiot- he knows that his truckload of issues didn’t begin with the wormhole, even though that was when the nightmares and other symptoms started. But this newest trigger managed to take him completely by surprise. Word Count: 1013

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Title: Work Six Times As Hard Collaborator: camichats Link: AO3 Square Filled: A3 - freespace Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Attempted Sexual Assault, Threat of Rape/Non-Con, Racism, Non-Con Drug Use (as in a white girl drugs Tony’s drink and threatens to tell the cops Tony raped her if they try to say anything and Tony’s underage during this) Summary: Tony Stark was black, first and foremost. He was rich, second. As Maria told him, everyone could glance at him and see the color of his skin right away, but they couldn’t tell how much money he had so he needed to play it safe. It didn’t make a difference. Not in the end. Word Count: 3311

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Title: my body is not their bed - Chapter 1: i. Collaborator: deathsweetqueen Link: AO3 Square Filled: A3 - free space Ship: Bucky/Tony/Steve/Natasha Rating: Explicit Major Tags: soulmates, Fem!Tony, implied/referenced child abuse, explicit sexual content, PTSD, genderswap, gender issues, torture, polyamory Summary: In 1995, the Engineer and the Winter Soldier escape HYDRA and end up, bleeding, on Peggy Carter's doorstep. This is their journey after. This is the story of their victory march. Word Count: 5988

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Title: N/A Collaborator: monobuu Link: Tumblr Square Filled: K1 - Diner / Restaurant Ship: WinterIron Rating: Gen Major Tags: art Summary: World-renowned restaurateur Tony Stark prides himself on employing only the best of the best. So when the pastry chef of his most famous New York restaurant, the Avengeur, quits unexpectedly, Tony is left scrambling to find a replacement. The most qualified applicant turns out to be James ‘call me Bucky’ Barnes, and he represents a drastic change from the privileged and elite staff Tony is used to hiring. Tony takes a chance on something new and the decision ends up affecting more than just Tony’s restaurant.

#tonystarkbingo2020 #tsb2020 #weekly roundup #week 7 #week 7 roundup #badge earners

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