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nowoyas · 3 years ago

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Edible Arrangements: Twenty-Fifth Bite: Apology Fruit

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A/N: Woah. Posting on a schedule is fucking weird. I'm in the throes of NaNoWriMo right now, working on a different fic primarily, but it's going well and soon I should run out of tracks for that fic and be back to working ahead on EA! One horrible thing to note: turns out, tumblr will never play nice with copy-and-pasting, which means formatting this doesn't get easier even if I write in Scrivener in a way that makes my brain hurt! I'll get over it, though!

I had to fight this chapter a little bit to get it to format correctly and did a few passes, but please don't hesitate to let me know if you notice any mistakes or formatting weirdness!

Additional note, I actually kind of hate what tumblr's doing with links. I had to jump through HOOPS to find my way to getting a link to the previous chapter.

Chapter Summary: After a saved date, you and Izuku return home, where he pops the question he's been toying with for a while. Preparations and work ensue.

Warnings: some light touches on trauma previously gone over in the plot, food mentions

Word count: ~4300 words

You're not sure you've ever felt this content in your life. Izuku drives you home, the both of you locked in tranquility, and he has half a mind to carry you inside once you're there. There's a candy bowl set out in front of the gate, filled with full-size Skittles bags and king-sized candy bars in the event any trick-or-treaters brave the rich neighborhood long enough to make it to your place. (You figure they must—no smart kid would pass up getting candy from the people with money to splurge on the big guns for Halloween.) You kick off your shoes, Izuku shrugs off his suit jacket, and before long, you're cuddled up on the couch and picking out a movie.

After much hesitation, he picks some horror movie and puts it on. You don't know if it's the best idea for his re-introduction into watching things on his TV, but, well, if he picked it…

For a little while, you watch in comfortable silence. His arms are wrapped around you carefully, soothingly, like he's afraid he might break you. And as the movie continues, his grip on you tightens, gradual at first, until it's an uncomfortable silence and you have no choice but to address it.

"Izuku?"

"Y-yeah?"

"You okay?"

He doesn't answer. After a moment, you reach for the remote and hit pause, looking through the guide for something better suited. "Yeah, I didn't think so. I’m not a huge fan of horror, anyways. There's this movie I watch every year on Halloween; it's kinda childish but it's fun and I like it a lot, so can we watch that instead?" You're careful in your wording, purposeful in making it sound like he's doing something for you by changing the movie.

He nods, burying his face in the back of your neck. "I'm sorry. I really wanted to try my hardest, but it just wasn't…"

"That's okay," you say softly. "It was a valiant effort, but I let you take on too much, too fast. You may not ever like horror movies, as it is. Honestly, I kind of hate them myself. Let's move to something that won't be so awful for you, okay?" You flip to the new movie: a well-loved kid's Halloween movie that you've damn near memorized by now. He accepts the change with quiet gratitude, and as the movie begins, his hold on you relaxes into something more fluid.

It's a quiet Halloween. Your thoughts drift once or twice to the candy table near the gate, the question of how many have come by and found delight in the seemingly bottomless bowl of candy waiting there for them. You're sure that, had you thought to decorate, the whole house would have been covered in Halloween decorations. Normally, you might have tagged along with Mina to a party, or maybe agreed to babysit someone's kids and take them trick-or-treating. This time a few months ago, you're sure you would have been utterly desperate to make a quick buck and capitalize off of babysitting the kids whose parents have gotten over the whole “taking the kids trick-or-treating” deal. A soft smile flits onto your face at the thought of how much things have changed for you.

"Hey…" Izuku says quietly. You tilt your head back to look at him.

"Are you… Are you happy with how things are?"

You blink innocently at the question. "This is probably the happiest I've been in a long time. I mean, some things got dangerous. I made the mistake of saying 'vampire' out loud and got one of my closest friends hurt, along with myself. There's a lot I should probably work through, but…" You're not sure how to finish the sentence. "Here, with you, I wouldn't want things to be any different than they have been."

He smiles softly. "I see. I'm glad."

"Why? Something wrong?"

He sighs. "No, I just… I worry. About making you too dependent on me. I know, I offered this because you needed someone to depend on and so did I, but… I don't want you to think you can't leave. I never want you to feel trapped here."

You reach up, patting his cheek gently. "I'm happy. I don't feel trapped. I feel like I have a future again. You said I could leave whenever I wanted, and you weren’t lying."

He frowns, but pulls you a little closer. "I was thinking about adopting a cat. I… We… I think we could both use trained, professional help, after everything the both of us have been through. But for us to both be able to speak fully about everything, it has to be someone vampire-friendly, and I don't know how to even begin looking for that, so it could take a while to find someone. And then, I'm worried about creating a conflict of interest, because that’s a big concern with therapists seeing patients who know each other, so we'd have to find two separate ones who are both vampire-friendly and won’t think we’re insane, and… Until then, I think an emotional support animal would be a good idea, and I've seen the way you look at pictures of cats, so…"

The smile on your face could not possibly grow any bigger. "Yes! I'd love a cat! I've always wanted one, but my parents thought they were evil beings or whatever, and I haven't been able to afford or house one since I moved out, so I never got one, but I'd love one!"

He smiles back, running a gentle thumb over the skin of your good arm. "We'll figure out a day to go visit the shelter and pick one out, okay?"

Giddy, you turn your attention back to the movie. "Okay!" You turn your attentions back to the movie, but you can't focus anymore. You're giddy with thoughts of cat and getting sleepy as the weight of the best steak on the planet settles in your stomach and drags you down.

Your phone screen lights up. A text. It's from your ex.

Asshole to [name] at 12:04 AM

Asshole: Who was that tonight?

Despite everything, you smile.

You block his number without even a word.

"So, how was Halloween?" Mina rests her chin in her palm, looking you over with a smug smile. You're both sat on the same side of one of the round tables in front of the Caf, facing the fountain as you wait for Neito to show his annoying ass up.

"Mina. Oh my god. The steak." You grip her arm, casting one arm over your eyes dramatically. "I've dreamed of it every night since."

"It's been, like, two nights, but do go on."

"I cried in the restaurant. It was. So. Good."

She laughs, wrenching her arm away just to pull you into a side hug.

"Okay, okay, enough about that meat. What about—"

"Am I interrupting?"

You pause in your dramatic steak talk to open one eye towards Neito. He's dressed pretentious, with mirror shades and shorts even though it's literally fucking November, because that's who he is as a person, you guess. More important is what he's holding: a fruit bouquet, barely small enough to be carried in one hand.

"Oh, good, you got a table with an umbrella. The sun has never been great for my complexion." There's a statement lingering on that: it's worse now. (Almost a funny joke, though, if it came from someone with a less sinister role in your past.)

"You're not interrupting. Come sit, Murder Guy," Mina says. Her voice seems friendly enough, but you've known her long enough to know that she's ready to throw hands at any given moment. "What's with the fruit?"

"He's my project partner, actually," you whisper to her.

She buckles over with laughter, and soon, you follow, quiet giggles floating out of you.

He looks confused between the two of you as she recovers. "It's for [name]. I, uh, thought to purchase one for the… for their friend as well, but I get the sense that he would rather forget I exist."

"Kind of extra, but I'll take it. I’ll let him know you apologized, too."

He slides the bouquet across the table to you. It's actually kind of a nice gesture—in the middle of it all is a little greeting card that reads, in swooping cursive letters: Sorry for trying to kill you and your friend.

Aw. He bought you an apology fruit arrangement.

"Thanks."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

"It's a good step in the right direction."

"Uh-huh."

Silence settles over the three of you. He doesn't seem to have brought a friend along. As easy as it'd be for you to just joke with Mina this whole time, you do have work to do, so…

"You know what else is a good step in the right direction?"

Neito pre-emptively cringes. "What?"

"Getting started on this dumb assignment. Let's go ahead and see what Dr. Aizawa's got for us." You grab a fruit skewer and open up your laptop to get started. Neito nods and hurriedly gets out his own things, making the table quite crowded with two laptops and a fruit bouquet.

Surprisingly, the work comes naturally. You settle on a topic and distribution of work after only a moderate level of teeth-gritting and glaring, and leave it to Neito to officially claim it. No major incidents occur, and you're actually quite happy with the way things get settled. You suspect it has something to do with the fact that he feels guilty for everything that's happened, but you'll take getting more influence on the project if that's how you have to get it.

And things move on.

You bring home the fruit bouquet and snack on it while you work on school things. And when you're done and relaxing, you have half a mind to wonder where Izuku has gone off to. You pass it off quickly—he's probably busy, after all, and you don't want to bother him.

Yeah, probably just busy.

A day of classes meets you, barely paying attention. You promised you’d attend all your classes today, and really, two hours isn’t so bad, but you really, really can’t make yourself care today. Two hours of classwork, and then meeting Izuku for pet shopping.

You'd been so excited about the cat that Izuku couldn't help but agree to start the process as soon as possible. So today, getting the necessities, like a cat bed and tower. When you return with a whole mess of things for your future son, you both pile them up in the middle of the living room and start on the biggest thing: assembling the cat tree. Well, trees. You'd picked up one, and, realizing how big the house was, sheepishly asked whether Izuku would be alright with at least a second one. So now you sit back-to-back, each with your own cat tree to assemble. Periodically, one of you holds the instructions or a random, ambiguous piece of tree over your shoulder for an opinion or a complaint, but overall, the night is peaceful. It does much to soothe you, even with the half an hour spent swearing and disassembling your cat tree only to re-assemble it with just a bit more accuracy.

"Should we eventually get a second cat?" you wonder aloud as you deliberate the difference between two seemingly identical pieces of wood. The instructions insist they're different, but if they are, you can't see it. "I mean, the baby might get lonely."

"I don't ever really leave the house for long. Do you think it'll be a problem?"

"I think it depends on the cat, really. I heard they get lonely without another cat around."

"Hmm. We'll meet the cat and figure out whether the one we end up with even likes other cats first, does that sound fair?"

You smile and turn back to your very clearly different pieces of wood.

"Yeah, I'm good with that."

Somehow, things get better. You pick away at your fruit bouquet over the next few days, cat-proof the mansion within reason, and genuinely consider convincing Izuku to install a whole jungle gym for your future son on the walls of the living room.

Nights fall, and without fail, you find yourself in Izuku's bed, or he finds himself in yours. You can hardly sleep without him there, now—though you try to move forward, past everything that's happened to you, it's only in his arms that you stop thinking about the thrall mark you can't see and the things you can't remember long enough to sleep. It's only in his arms that you can ignore your healing burns and the pain associated with them, and move past the memories of thorns digging into your sides, of your best friend falling unconscious to the ground, of begging for someone to call Izuku, please call Izuku, he'll save Tenya, he has to—

But you're safe here. You have to be.

So you keep going. You let yourself fall back to sleep, night after night, with Izuku there to remind you that you’re safe, and a Saturday morning comes to remind you that you did, indeed, agree to sacrifice part of your weekend to having Hitoshi over again to practice the presentation ahead of time and look at re-arranging any potential slides.

You don't even want to think about the stupid thing; you very nearly turn over and let Izuku protect you from the day as a whole, but you’d better do something today before it all goes to shit. All your interest in the Death Adder, the mysterious plane crash, the nearly hundred bodies showing up with bite marks, has evaporated. You're left with a sense of unease at the mere thought of working on it, on working to memorize the details of an event so horrifically traumatic for someone so close to you and be able to parrot them back to a classroom of disinterested university students who're just there to fill their mandatory attendance requirements.

Seeing disinterest on their faces as you talk about everything might just drive you mad.

Still, Izuku had been more than fine with (maybe even enthusiastic to the idea of) having Hitoshi over again, and he’ll be here in a few hours, so once again, you resign yourself to being antagonized by—and maybe even getting along with—Hitoshi until your required tasks are done. In the meantime, you drag yourself out of bed and into your bedroom, where you sequester at your desk, make notecards, and practice idly on your own, whispering the words to your half of the presentation to yourself. They feel too damning to say out loud, and you're forced to dance around them until you find ways to say everything that doesn't make you think about Izuku, about how he must have felt when—

No. Stop thinking about it.

Afternoon arrives, you being interrupted only by Izuku putting food down on top of your notecards, and Hitoshi arrives, too, and soon, you're in the library, flipping through your notecards in preparation, and then, you're practicing with Hitoshi, and then—

…

—then?

Finally, after days of preparation and thought, still with no name in mind, you and Izuku travel to the animal shelter. They have strict rules for adoption, and you've followed them to the letter, a clean bill so you can pick out the cat today and stop by the store for the appropriate food on your way back.

The receptionist greets you with a smile, apparently infected by your enthusiasm. "Name?"

"Midoriya," Izuku answers. "We made the appointment to meet the cats?"

"Certainly. We've gone over your pre-application, so you're approved for any cats you choose. Thank you both, again, for following the process so willingly—we get a lot of complaints about our high standards for potential adopters, but introducing this system dropped the local cases of abandonment and abuse quite significantly."

"Of course." Izuku smiles at her. She takes you to the back, down the hall, to a large room where tons of cats of various ages, sizes, and colors bound around, being perfectly catlike in their mannerisms.

"So, I'll let the two of you look around and meet with your potential new friends for a bit. We encourage you to interact with the cats, and if you have any questions or are looking for any particular breed or care needs, let an attendant know and we'll be happy to help. You can hit that buzzer on the wall to find me at the front desk, okay?"

"Yep!" you chirp. "Thank you!"

She leaves you to your perusal, and you're more than happy for the relative solitude—you go straight to the center of the room, and Izuku follows, watching in amusement as you sit in the middle of the floor and begin to watch for any cat that stands out to you.

"Did you have anything in mind, Izu?"

"I'd like it to be a cat," he replies, smiling wryly.

You snort. "Well, I'd hope so. I mean, do you have any limits on stuff like special needs, or age, or…"

"I mean, I guess I'd be happy with anything? They're all so cute, I'm not sure how I could even choose. And I’ve got time to take care of a special needs cat if that’s what we end up with."

He takes a seat on the floor next to you. Several cats bound right up to him—you giggle when a kitten enthusiastically begins to climb his back.

Oh, you have no idea where to begin on this little venture. There's easily sixty cats in the large room—more, you assume, hiding in various nooks and crannies. There's an attendant who's just come in, bearing a rolling bin filled with compartments of various cat foods. You watch as nearly every cat in the room bolts to her, including the one that had been climbing Izuku. You laugh as it springs off him. "These hoes ain't loyal at all." You giggle. "They left you the second someone had food."

The attendant looks up to see you two, smiling at you. "How are you finding the cats? Meet any that speak to you?"

"Well, I think we're both a little lost. I was kind of hoping one would just… jump out at me. But… Do you have any that don't really like other cats, or that might have to leave the center soon?"

Izuku spares you a glance. You await the attendant's answer as she measures out food.

"Hm… Most of our cats have turned out to be really friendly. But we do have one… He stays away from the other cats, and he won't even come out to eat. He's in that back corner over there, in the tree, if you want to try to meet him. But be careful, he bites a lot. If we can't get his behavior to level out, we may have to…"

"Say no more." You push yourself to a standing position, following her directions to a cat tree in the back corner of the room, where, sure enough, two orange eyes peek out at you from a seemingly impossible shroud of darkness.

And, impossibly, your neck begins to itch.

"'Zuku, are you looking at my neck?" you mutter to him as he comes up beside you.

"Well, I wasn't," he says. "Why?"

"It's… itching."

You gingerly extend a hand into the darkness. You're greeted with a sniff, then pull your hand away as the tiniest black fluff steps out of the dark.

"Oh shit, he's adorable." You hover your hand just within reach, shifting uncomfortably at the continued itching-burning of your bite marks. "Hey, sweetheart, the nice lady tells me you're not a fan of the other kitties?"

To your delight, he meows back. Your neck seems to itch more as he stares at you, and just to be sure, you glance back at the attendant. Her back is to you, and there's no one else in the room. Izuku has reached a hand out to let the kitten warm up to him, in hopes of avoiding a bite, but his eyes are trained completely on the baby.

The cat is the only one looking at your neck. And on closer inspection, two impossibly sharp fangs are poking out of his mouth, the likes of which you've only really noticed on…

"Baby, is that you?" you mutter to it in your best cat voice.

It doesn't answer. It's a cat, after all.

"Izuku, I think he's the one."

"Do you?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. He's smoothed one finger over the top of the cat's head. No biting so far.

"We've taken to calling him Ankle Biter," the attendant says from behind you. You nearly scream—Izuku's quick hand on your shoulder grounds you enough to resist it. "He usually goes for the ankles." "Do you ever see him eat regular cat food?"

She tilts her head. "Sometimes? He doesn't come out until people leave, though, except to bite unprovoked. I can't figure him out."

"Anything else strange about him?"

She places a hand on her chin thoughtfully. "Well, it's odd… We've had Ankle Biter here for a good six months, but he's never gotten any bigger, or really changed at all. By now, he should basically look like a smaller adult, but he just… hasn't changed."

You shoot Izuku a Look™. Whether he understands it, you're not sure, but…

One last test.

The mirror in your pocket, just to be sure she wasn't looking at you. You pull it out, flip it open, and make like you're adjusting your hair.

She reflects perfectly fine. Just for fun, you turn around to look at her, keeping it open, and sweep the area now behind you.

The cat doesn't reflect. Not even his eyes.

You don't know how or why, but someone turned this fucking cat into a vampire.

"Well, that's interesting. I think he's the cat for me. Izuku, what do you think?"

He tilts his head at you. "He's adorable. I'm just surprised you decided so quick."

"Don't you feel it?" you insist, slipping into a grin. You pocket your mirror and grab his arm with both hands. "He's perfect." You grin up at him, squeezing his arm gently. Please, oh please, take the hint. "Can't we get him?"

He laughs, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Sure." He looks at the attendant. "Should we tell you, or do we need to buzz the front desk for Ankle Biter?"

"I'll buzz them! But, are you sure? I'm serious when I say he bites ankles. Not an employee works here who doesn't get bit by him within the week."

You nod enthusiastically. "Please. We can get him to stop biting. I know a few tricks, and he's just… He's adorable. I can't get over his little fangs, and I was worried he'd get lonely if it's just him as a cat, but since he doesn't like other cats…"

"Well…" She smiles. "I'm glad you've made your choice. I'll get Miranda, and then she'll bring in a carrier so you two can take Ankle Biter home. Did you have a name in mind, for the certificate, or will you stick with Ankle Biter?"

You look to Izuku, who shrugs and nods at you, then at Ankle Biter. Finally, you nod back to the attendant. "Sbeve."

"Sbeve?" she echoes.

It just slipped out, but it's too perfect. You nod. "Sbeve."

"Is that spelled like Steve, but with a B, or…"

"Yep! His name's Sbeve."

She laughs. "Not the worst name we've had for an adoptee." She peers past you. "Hey, Sbeve, we found you a forever home. Won't you be glad to have new ankles to bite?"

Sbeve meows. The attendant calls the front desk, and you listen in amusement as the receptionist realizes you're adopting the apparently infamous Ankle Biter.

"I'll be right there with the crate! Try to keep him from biting before I get there!" she insists. Within a minute, she's in the room, holding a Sbeve-sized crate to carry the boy out in.

You think they're expecting Sbeve to put up a fight. But he merely looks from you to Izuku, then back again, and trots right up to jump into the crate.

"That's amazing," the receptionist says. "All my time here and I've never seen Ankle Biter cooperate with anything that didn't directly get him closer to biting someone's ankles."

You snort. "Oh, I'm sure he'll happily be biting our ankles soon."

She latches the crate door, glancing up at you forlornly. "I'm almost sad to see him go. I'm glad he got out before our boss decided he was too much trouble and wouldn't get adopted, but… I'll miss him."

"For what it's worth, I won't miss bandaging my ankles," cuts in the attendant.

Izuku chuckles. "I'm sure you won't. But hey, we'll keep in touch! Maybe someday Sbeve here will be behaved enough to stay with a second cat."

"More like third," you tease. He shoots you a playful glare.

You return to the front of the shelter, carrying Sbeve's crate the whole way, and finalize the paperwork. It's almost solemn, especially when you're asked to take a picture to prove you're leaving with the infamous Ankle Biter that's surely terrorized this shelter for ages now. Sbeve is quiet the whole way home. You can't help but smile the whole time, securing his crate in the back for the ride to the pet store.

In solitude, Izuku finally has the chance to ask. "So why did you pick up on this one so quickly?"

"Two words," you say, glancing back at Sbeve's crate. "Vampire kitten."

Tags: @tooloudarts @sapid-rose @xxangelpridexx @warmchoccymilk @lirinstaalem @izoodles @my-bnha-things @denise-the-death-goddess @themerpenguin @sincerelybubbles @fudobaby @imabootywarrior @chickynn @fuc-kingmonkey @vinumumbra @the-secret-thief @lianatriestosurvive @kc-korra @kiliakit @hay-leeeah @meowkid1000 @mha-baku-todo-deku-kiri @jojo-buttercup @starfishlovingbnha @neomuxuxi @lollawindsay @mrsreina @anime-simps-blog @wwwwyamd @omiwashere @emilytheeggy @subwayslander @thelittle-witch @sparkexplosive @shoutaaizawas @vanilladyfics @stargazerunlimited @luigisdivorcelawyer @chaoticevilbakugo @deadmans-toe @ainatsukashii @deeplightgarden

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#my fics #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #vampire midoriya izuku reader insert #vampire izuku midoriya reader insert #mha reader insert #bnha reader insert #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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aresmarked · 3 years ago

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AO3 Summary ‘n Tag Tips

things off the top of my head you can do to encourage/avoid discouraging readers on ao3 from reading your work:

presenting as confidently as you can

don’t say ‘i suck at summaries’. you may be tempted to out of self-consciousness. that is the devil talking. guaranteed people won’t even blink at ‘plain’ descriptions like ‘x and y go on a date. Shenanigans ensue.’ because honestly? it reflects an ability—whether or not you believe you have it—to concisely describe what’s going down and tease about More happening than what’s told

focusing on relevancy

don’t tag every extant relationship in your fic if you have a huge cast herd. focus on what the huge ones are in the relationship tags, and then maybe say ‘background x/y/z in the additional tags’. the people hungry for their particular pairing will thank you for your consideration, and people will also be able to see you are aware enough of your work that you can isolate your own focus.

if you’re someone like me who tends to make a lot of small focused ficlets consider making your ficlets standalone but in a series so that you can tag characters appropriately but have everything ‘in one place’.

tags important to the conceit of your fic. more grey-ish area but IMO less is more! i’ll fully admit to using a few tags as ‘talk space’ but i try to relegate most of it to the author’s notes. people usually use tags to find works relevant to their interests, so again, they’ll thank you for ensuring something where what they’re looking for is largely present is what they find. e.g. if i wanted to showcase some mutual pining fic i’d probably tag that as is, and then maybe separately ‘and they were pining. oh my god were they pining.’

really if you go and focus on what people trawling ao3 see and use to sort, you can utilise that to ensure people see.

considering how your fic Looks

summary formatting is such that there aren’t inherently spaces between paragraphs. consider adding one line after each if you have sizable chunks in your summary to improve legibility.

Some sort of proper/consistent formatting that considers readability. i’m not gonna expecting anyone to be doing indentation or bust but if I step in a fic and see that a novel-style fic doesn’t have say, basic capitalisation and punctuation, or is just huge blocks of texts without breaking paragraphs up via TiP ToP, I’m gonna have trouble reading ‘til the end.

Advertising elsewhere

as several others have stressed, ao3 does not have an algorithm. so if you want to nudge a fic into people’s views, try doing so elsewhere. link your fic on tumblr and queue a few self-reblogs for timezones! link it on twitter and put it into a thread. use the tags on those sites too!

there’s plenty other things things but i’m having trouble just riffing off more so... readers! writers! put in the tags what gets you to click through, to read, to comment. put things that have made you just nope out of a fic!

#warproduct rambles

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geralt-of-baevia · 5 years ago

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Happenstance

Summary: Henry is about to go to bed one night when he suddenly gets a text from a random number he doesn’t know. What happens when you accidentally text the star actor of The Witcher? Memes apparently. Lots and lots of memes.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Lizzy Moore)

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: None...yet! Just some fluffy flirting. Well okay and lots of mention of his crotch? 😬😘

A/N: So I’ve had this idea bouncing around in my brain for a LONG time and finally pulled the trigger and wrote it! It’s in texting format, and I hope you like it! This is my first time posting fan fiction on here so I’m nervous and excited!

Beta: Thank you to @avengeful-bunny for being my AMAZING beta. I don’t know what I would do without you. 💛💛💛

Tagging: I’m going to tag all those whose work has inspired me to write and post my work! Much love to ALL of you! @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @mary-ann84 @yespolkadotkitty @viking-raider @cavillhoney

Part 1: Oops.

(405:) God, girl. You will not BELIEVE the day I had. I'm pretty sure I lost a pint of blood today from how many times I stabbed myself sewing.

(405:)

(Henry:) You should probably get a thimble for that.

(Henry:) Also, I do believe you have the wrong number. Considering you started the text off with 'girl' and I am quite the opposite. But even so, please spill the tea. I’m dying to know about this UNBELIEVABLE day you’ve had.

(Henry:)

(405:) Oh my god, MR. CAVILL I AM soooo SO SO SORRY. I must have accidentally clicked on your name and not my friend's name.

(405:) I feel really awkward having your number when you don’t have mine. Do you want me to delete it? Just to make sure this doesn’t happen again? Also so some random crew member doesn’t have your number?

(Henry:) Oh god, please call me Henry. There’s no need for such formalities. And it’s fine, there’s no need to delete it. Since you mentioned crew and sewing, I'm assuming you work for the costuming department?

(Henry:) Also, I have your number now, don't I? :P

(405:) By it’s fine do you mean this kind of fine?

(405:)

(Henry:) Oh no, it’s LITERALLY fine. I promise.

(Henry:)

(405:) But to answer your question, yes! I work for the costuming department. I’m newer, so I get to do the usual stuff. Mostly just lots of mending at the moment. And JUST TO BE CLEAR, I won't do anything to abuse this number since you're Henry Cavill.

(405:) And you’re Henry Cavill. Also you are my co-worker, my I’m assuming super rich, god tier co-worker that I’m not supposed to make eye contact with nevermind TEXT.

(Henry:)

(Henry:) But yes, my name is Henry. Please keep my number, we’re coworkers after all, it’s normal for coworkers to have each other’s numbers. Have we met on set before?

(405:) We have once or twice, just in passing mostly. Once I brought you clothes to your trailer.

(Henry:) Are you the one with the brown and pink hair?

(405:) That's me. :)

(Henry:) Don't tell me your name, I know what it is.

(405:) Are you sure about that? You don't seem too confident :P

(Henry:) I know it starts with an E. Is it Eloise? Eleanor? I know it was something old fashioned, too.

(405:) Man, you're so close. I mean, kind of. Think of historical dead English queens. Like, for example you were best friends with her dad. You were a fancy Duke who was good with the sword and ladies. Also, I’m sorry, aren’t you supposed to be a big nerd?

(Henry:) ELIZABETH!

(Henry:) And I am a HUGE nerd thank you very much.

(Elizabeth:) Yes, that's my name haha. Also, whoa whoa, settle down there cowboy.

(Elizabeth:) And it’s just Lizzy, with a Y. The thought of spelling it with an IE makes me cringe.

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:) Pretty much everyone? Who doesn't call you Lizzy?

(Lizzy:) My dad, my grandma, my teachers, my victims, my doctor, the one girl in high school who hated me.

(Henry:) Haha that's quite the list there Lizzy Borden. I think it’s your turn to settle down. :P

(Henry:) Well then Lizzy with a Y, it's nice to finally talk to you, even though it's over text.

(Henry:) So I have to ask, I take it they were cracking the whip pretty hard in wardrobe today?

(Lizzy:) You know, I was doing what I thought was a pretty damn good job of avoiding that subject.

(Henry:) Nope, you can't slip past me. This brain is like an iron trap.

(Lizzy:) If you MUST know...

(Henry:) I really do. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat in anticipation.

(Henry:)

(Lizzy:) Okay well that just sounds sarcastic. I don't HAVE to tell you... :P

(Lizzy:) I'm kidding, kidding. Well, since you MUST know, I spent at least half of my day mending clothes, particularly the crotch of multiple pairs of your pants. Also a few pairs had the butt blown out.

(Henry:) The crotch?

(Lizzy:) Yes, the CROTCH OF YOUR PANTS HENRY. :P Honestly I'm used to it at this point though. It's not the first time, or I'm assuming the last, that I'll have to mend the crotch of your pants. It’s not your fault the studio wants you in tighter fitting clothes that can show off how muscular you are. It’s just my job to fix it. ;)

(Henry:) I guess I never really thought about who it was having to mend them when that happens.

(Lizzy:) And it’s not just your crotch area I mend, it’s your inseams as well. I think your thighs got a little bigger since the initial fitting. :P

(Lizzy:) And yes, us little people taking care of you famous movie stars, making sure you stay looking like the heartthrob you are. Since that is your job and all. :P

(Henry:) Hey now, I’m more than just a pretty face. You make me sound like a talentless hack. But thank you. For your sake I'll try and not blow out any more seams, especially the crotch.

(Lizzy:) You don't need to thank me, it's literally my job. ;)

(Lizzy:) I mean, if your muscles didn’t rip through clothing on a regular basis I’d be out of a job! How rude.

(Henry:) Well I mean in that case I COULD make it a habit. ;)

(Lizzy:) All I have to say is I’m SO glad we don’t have to worry about shirt buttons on you during this. I’ve seen the stress you put on buttons during press junkets. The anxiety I feel, Henry. So much anxiety.

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:) Yeah, those shirts never seem to fit my chest right. I taught myself how to sew buttons on my shirts so I could stop asking others to help.

(Lizzy:) Okay, the fact that you taught yourself how to sew on buttons because it’s a CONTINUING issue is both hilarious and adorable. :P

(Henry:)

(Henry:) So I’m curious about something, costume wise.

(Lizzy:) Yes? I’m sure I can answer, costume wise. ;)

(Henry:) How long does it take to sew together a shirt from scratch?

(Lizzy:) Well, it all depends on the type of shirt, and what it’s for. For the sake of film, there are so many steps. Design, pattern making, grading, construction, fitting. That’s just a fraction of it. It’s a very long process.

(Lizzy:) But if I was at home making a shirt for a friend, I could do it start to finish in a couple of hours. They're not hard. I can sew them together in my sleep.

(Henry:) A few HOURS? That's amazing.

(Lizzy:) Eh, it's what I went to school for. ;) It’s not that impressive to me.

(Henry:) Well, to me it is at least. ;)

(Lizzy:)

(Henry:)

(Henry:) Unfortunately, it's time for me to go to bed. I have an early call time in the morning.

(Lizzy:) You're going to bed at 6 in the evening? I’m assuming you have a super crazy call time? One time I had a call time of 1 am because there were things that had to be fixed by the time you and Anya got to set at 4 am. Although it does have it’s advantages. I get to have the first pick of craft services, and sunrises are always nice to watch.

(Lizzy:) But I’m sorry, that sucks. :(

(Henry:) Some days it does, especially when I can't seem to fall asleep. But today was exhausting so I don't think I'll have any issues tonight. Plus Kal has been extra cuddly tonight so I definitely won’t have any issues.

(Lizzy:) Well then, I guess this is where we say goodnight. I hope you sleep well. :)

(Henry:) Thank you. I hope you do, too. Hopefully tomorrow will involve less bleeding onto garments. ;P

(Lizzy:) Haha, I mean it really doesn’t matter. If anything it makes the garment just look THAT much more legit. I hope you have a good day on set tomorrow. :)

(Henry:) Thank you. It was really nice talking to you Lizzy. I hope we talk more again soon. :)

(Lizzy:) It was nice talking to you, too. And I would really like that. :)

(Lizzy:) Goodnight, Henry. :)

(Henry:) Goodnight Lizzy. Sleep well. :)

#henry cavill #geralt of rivia #the man from uncle #the witcher #tmfu #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fc #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill witcher #fanfic #henrycavillfanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henrycavillxreader

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gogglor · 4 years ago

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Cap-Ironman RecWeek: Different Media Thursday

I’ve been looking forward to writing this installment of @cap-ironman rec week all week. There’s some phenomenally creative fanworks out there centered around these two goobers, and it is my absolute pleasure to bring them to your attention.

Best Fansite Ever!!

Creator: FestiveFerret

Word Count: 468 + a website

Summary: A blast from Tony's past gets him caught in a PR nightmare.

Why You Should Check It Out:

Ferret’s another big name in the Stony community, and a pseudo fairy code parent who we can go to with our internet booboos. They’re also a kickass, prolific author in their own right, and an afternoon spent going through their fics would be an absolutely delightful afternoon.

Ferret busted out the coding skills with this fic, both in the email skin and, most importantly, in Tony Stark’s pseudo-geocities fanpage for Captain America which... Christ, there is no description of it that could do it justice. I don’t think I laughed so hard in ages. There’s a link in the fic, or you can click here to see for yourself. I’d say you won’t regret it, but for those of us old enough to remember those sites (and who maybe made one or two)... you might feel some sympathy cringe for Tony on this one.

The Stark Guide(tm) to Mission Reports

Creators: coffeesuperhero and sabinelagrand

Word Count: 1025 (kinda)

Summary: With annotations by Clint Barton, and further annotations by Phil Coulson, and questions from Thor Odinson, for whom this was all written in the first place.

Why You Should Check It Out:

This one just baaaarely qualifies as Stony but honestly, it’s so good I don’t even care (and it’s tagged with Stony, so it counts). I can’t comment on the authors as I haven’t checked them out individually, but if their stuff is half as funny as this they’re worth a look.

Thor needs help writing mission reports. Tony has written a handy guide to help him out. Clint, Coulson and Thor all have notes (and Tony has responses). The result is a fic in the format of a memo covered with everyone’s scribbles. This is another one for the “Wow, I didn’t know I could laugh so hard I would pull a muscle” file - the jokes all land beautifully, the mental images are sublime, the implied backstory is hysterical. If you’re looking for something short and sweet and flipping hilarious to read, I can’t recommend this one highly enough.

And on the third day of ficrecs, we’re finally getting to some self-recs. Am I biased on these? Absolutely. But I wouldn’t rec them if there weren’t a lot of other people independently confirming they’re good fics, Bront.

An Avengers Powerpoint Party

Creator: gogglor

Word Count: 4,769 (kinda)

Summary: The Avengers threw a Powerpoint Party. These are their slides.

Why You Should Check It Out:

Some time ago there was a TikTok going around where someone imagined what the Avengers would present at a Powerpoint Party (here’s what that is, for the unfamiliar) and I couldn’t resist putting my own spin on the idea.

Team bonding fics are a huge weakness of mine, and I had a lot of fun writing the team letting their hair down and getting silly with each other, in the format of Powerpoint slides they prepared for each other. Here’s the first slide of the first chapter:

Need I say more?

Caught Up In Our Stories

Creator: gogglor

Word Count: 40,689 (kinda)

CW: Brief mention of past parental abuse.

Summary: Someone's cast a spell on Avengers Tower that has changed each floor into a different kind of story, and trapped the Avengers inside. Steve mounts a rescue mission, starting with Tony Stark, PI, a noir detective who's got a thing for blonde bombshells who bring trouble to his door.

Why You Should Check It Out:

This here was my pandemic magnum opus. I got the idea to trap the Avengers in as many story-telling mediums as I could and just sorta... got borderline carried away with it. I’ll probably never attempt anything that was this much work again, but I’m glad I’ve got something to show for all that time spent inside, and very pleased with the way it turned out.

I’d describe the story of CUIOS as our favorite two dingdongs figuring out they like each other, woven into some good old-fashioned team bonding while facing the consequences of past choices. I’d describe the medium of CUIOS as a ludicrously complex kitchen sink lovingly assembled by someone with way too much time on their hands. If you want to be surprised at the mediums I use, stop reading here, and don’t read past the first few story tags on AO3.

Here’s a taste of some of the contents that don’t spoil the story, just some of the mediums. In this work you’ll also find, among other things, a choose your own adventure game, a Western movie script, a crayon drawing, a comment section flame war, and a robust debate on which anthropomorphized floor of Avengers tower would be best in the sack. What’s not to love?

Just be glad my sister talked me out of making paper bag puppets too.

That’s it for today! Tomorrow is Laugh-Out-Loud Friday and considering I am pretty much always on the look out for fics that make me laugh, I’ve got some really great recs waiting in the wings for y’all.

#capimrecweek #stony #Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #MCU #ficrec

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freddiesaysalright · 5 years ago

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The Most Dramatic Season Ever - Week 7 - Fantasy Suites

Summary: It’s your time now! You are ABC’s new Bachelorette and this is your journey! All these men (including our fav BoRhap boys and then some) are competing for your heart! Will you find love? Will you get engaged at the end? Or will you end up heartbroken? Find out, on the most dramatic season ever!

Word Count: 7k (i’m finally chilling tf out)

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession, @minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @moon-stars-soul, @danadeacon, @deacyblues, @thesundrop, @cupidben, @lostlittlenerd, @delilahmay39, @timmvrphy, @queenmylovely, @loveandbeloved29, @free-pool-trash, @fairestkillerqueenofall, @local-troubled-writer, @babyalienfairy, @littlecarowrites, @allthethingsicant, @im-an-adult-ish, @mirkwoodshewolf, @squishy-gay-astronaut, @sherlollydramoine, @butlegendsneverdie, @dogmom2014, @rocketrhap917, @26-7-49, @lelifesaver, @frozenhuntress67, @drowsebaby If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long and that it’s a little shorter. Writing has been hard as I’ve been really depressed this week. We moved my grandfather to a hospice house and dancing (the only thing that keeps me sane) has been cancelled. Anyway, I hope y’all are all staying healthy and safe :)

Warning(s): OKAY I thought about doing some smut in this chapter, but then decided against it. I don’t think it fits the format, since so far it’s been like watching the show. That being said, I got as steamy as I felt was cool. So, it’s steamy but it’s not like completely NSFW. I hope y’all enjoy :)

Night 1 Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4 Week 5 Week 6

Week 7 here we go!!!

The flight to New Zealand was long and tiring. It took almost an entire twenty four hours of travel. You tried to get some rest, but it was tough, since your heart was still breaking for Rami. It did not ease your pain to remind yourself that it was the right choice. It was the toughest breakup so far. And you were anxious because it only got harder. Especially because you were in love with the three remaining men.

This of course, made your decision even more difficult. You needed these overnight dates to determine who was further along and who was ready for a proposal. But the overnight aspect did have you a bit nervous.

Sex didn’t frighten you. But it usually deepened your feelings, so you needed to know how they felt before going to bed with them. And whether or not they were truly ready to commit themselves to you.

After a day to recover, you had your first date. It was with Joe, which of course, excited you. Joe’s hometown had been wonderful, but you needed to know if he loved you. If he was in this as deep as you were.

Joe: I think I’m more nervous this week than I’ve ever been before. Knowing that Y/N and I could have the night together and take our relationship to the next level is really important to me. I also know that I’m in love with her and I need to tell her. My biggest frustration is that I know she can’t say it back. But I need some sort of validation because I’m starting to lose my mind a little bit. I didn’t think this whole journey was gonna be this hard…

You were meeting Joe in Hobbiton, where Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit movies were filmed. You were stoked when you got to the bar in Ireland based on The Shire, but now you were getting as close to the real thing as possible. It was an odd combination of nerves and thrill for you. You hoped you got to where you needed to be with Joe because you weren’t ready to say goodbye.

You beamed at him as he approached, your heart easing at his familiar form. He started to jog over when he saw you. When he reached you, he scooped you up in his arms as you laughed together. He set you down so he could kiss you.

“Hey,” he said quietly when your lips parted.

“Hey,” you returned sweetly. “Are you ready for today?”

“I’m stoked,” he assured you.

“Well, we’re touring Hobbiton,” you said with a smile. “So I think it’s gonna be great!”

You took his hand and led him up the path to Bag End. There, you met a guide, who began to walk you through the entire set. It was so cool to see everything in person and to witness the work that went into making such a huge, legendary film. The sun was shining and you felt it made the grass around you almost glow green. It was the loveliest day. After the tour, you sat together at The Green Dragon Inn, each with a drink. You toasted to your journey and took a sip.

“So, how are you feeling after last week?” Joe asked. “I know this is getting harder for you as the feelings get deeper.”

That was what you loved about Joe. He understood you, and never made you feel bad that this was the situation you were in.

“I’m okay,” you told him. “Obviously, last week was difficult, saying goodbye to Rami, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I’m optimistic about what this week will bring. Hopefully, it’s clarity.”

“I hope that for you as well,” he said. “I’m glad to hear you’re staying positive. Getting too caught up in the heartbreak...it’ll just bring you down. And I really want you to be happy.”

“That’s what I want too,” you said. “That’s the reason I’m here, y’know?”

“It’s the reason we’re all here,” he replied.

You each sipped your drinks some more and chatted about the experience. The day slipped by all too quickly. Before you knew it, it was time to part ways and get ready for the evening portion of the date. You carefully selected your dress. It was going to be a big night after all.

You met at the hotel where you were staying, and had a patio table all to yourselves. The lighting was low, just candles and soft, yellow bulbs. Drinks and dinner were set out and waiting for you. Joe pulled your chair out and let you sit, before taking the chair next to you.

“So,” you said. “Here’s to a wonderful day, and an even more wonderful evening.”

“Cheers, baby,” he replied.

You clinked glasses. When you set them down, you looked at him.

“So, I know this is a weird date,” you said. “There’s no rose to hand out, but there is something at the end, and I -”

“Y/N, I’m gonna stop you right there,” he said. “I know that it’s the fantasy suite, and I just want to tell you there’s no pressure. I’m really happy with where we are.”

You smiled. “I am too.”

He took a deep breath. “Honestly, there was only one thing I regretted about last week in New York.”

“Oh?” you wondered, brow furrowing. “What’s that?”

“I should have been honest with you,” he said. “The truth is, Y/N, I’m in love with you. Spending this day together only solidified that for me. I love you. With my whole heart.”

A smile spread slowly across your face as he spoke.

“Joe, I…” you trailed off, stopping yourself before saying what was on your heart. But only because you couldn’t say it. If you were not the Bachelorette, you would have told him that you loved him too.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “It means so much.”

“I just want to keep you informed with where my heart is,” he said.

You beamed at him and leaned over to kiss him. Even kissing him felt better with his feelings out in the open. When you parted, you were still smiling.

“So,” you said, reaching over to the table and retrieving an envelope there. “We have this little offer here, and I’d like you to read it.”

You handed him the envelope. He opened it up and read over the words once before reading it aloud with a little grin on his face.

“Y/N and Joe,” he began. “Welcome to New Zealand. I hope you’ve enjoyed the lush world of Hobbiton today. Should you choose to forgo your individual rooms, please use this key to stay as a couple in the fantasy suite. Chris Harrison.”

“What do you think?” you asked with a smirk.

“I’d love to spend the night with you,” he said, but you detected some hesitation there.

“But?”

“No buts,” he replied with a small laugh. “I just want you to know that I meant what I said before. There’s no pressure. We don’t have to do anything-”

You cut him off with a deep kiss.

“Joe,” you said. “I’m attracted to you. You make me feel so loved and desired. So, let’s go up to the fantasy suite and explore that more.”

He smiled. “Whatever you want, Y/N. I love you.”

You grinned wider at him. Then, taking his hand, you led him away and up to the main part of the hotel. Your suite was on the top floor so you took the elevator. For the whole ride, your heart was pounding. Your skin felt hotter each time he squeezed your hand. You were tempted to begin things right at that moment, but you had to wait until you were off camera.

After two agonizing minutes, the elevator dinged and opened its doors. You and Joe were both clearly holding back from running to the room. When you made it to the suite, he opened the door, and you saw the whole romantic set up. There were candles everywhere. A bottle of champagne sat on ice in the kitchen, with two glasses on the counter. Rose petals made a path from the front door to the bedroom door.

“This is beautiful,” you said, looking around.

“It really is,” he agreed. “But honestly, I wanna kiss you so bad, I can’t focus on it.”

“Well then,” you said. “Come here and kiss me.”

He made it to you in two strides, his lips claiming yours in the most heated kiss of your life. Your stomach lurched with fresh desire as he nipped at your bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth. He lifted you off your feet when you coiled your arms around his neck. Then he carried you into the bedroom, kicking the door shut. Finally, the cameras and producers were gone and it was just the two of you.

You were still kissing Joe when he set you back on your feet. You had become frantic with need for him. He chuckled into your kisses.

“Y/N,” he said, taking hold of your shoulders. “Y/N, slow down.”

You bit back a whine as he gently pushed you away.

“We’ve got all night,” he said. “We don’t have to rush.”

“The sooner we do it,” you returned. “The sooner we can do it again.”

He threw his head back and laughed. You smiled.

“Okay, we can go as many times as you like, but for our first time together, I really…” he trailed off. “I really wanna make love to you.”

“I’d love that,” you told him with a smile.

Your heart melted at his sentiment, but you had not lost any of the desire. You turned your back to him and moved your hair aside so he could unzip your dress. You heard him step toward you. Then his hands were on the zipper, the top of which was right at the nape of your neck. You gasped at the contact as your body begged for more.

Inch by inch, he lowered the zipper. You shivered when the air hit your back before Joe leaned down and kissed the newly exposed skin. You bit your lip.

He turned off your mic pack, which was at your lower back, and removed it, tossing it away. The straps of your dress fell from your shoulders. You faced him again. The fabric fell away from your body, revealing your bare chest to him. You hadn’t worn a bra. Joe sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes flickered down to your breasts before returning to your face.

“Like what you see?” you teased.

“Love it,” he said, pulling you into his arms again. “I love you.”

You giggled. “You can’t stop saying it.”

“No, nor will I,” he returned firmly.

You smiled again.

The way Joe made love to you was like nothing you had ever experienced before. It was slow, deliberate, and deep. He reached your very soul. He showed you the strength of his love with every kiss, every thrust, and every soft whisper of your name. Love was not just a word to Joe. It was something that required action. And you saw after that night that he was steadfast and strong. There was no doubt that he truly loved you. He showed you four times.

When you woke beside him the next morning, tucked safely in his arms, you smiled and hummed contentedly. You snuggled down closer. It almost made you wince, since your body was sore. It was the sweetest soreness you had ever felt. Joe shifted, eyes fluttering open. His smile was the only one that could match your own.

“Hey,” you whispered.

“Morning, beautiful,” he replied, voice low with the morning.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked.

“Wonderfully,” he said. “You?”

“The best sleep I’ve had in months,” you answered with a giggle.

“Good, then I did my job,” he joked.

You laughed again as he rolled half on top of you. He lowered his lips to yours. It was a soft and delicate kiss, since neither of you wanted to heat things up again without proper time. When he pulled back, he looked into your eyes.

“I think I could do this forever,” he said.

“What?” you asked.

“Wake up to you,” he said.

“Me too,” you returned.

You cupped his cheek in your hand. The urge to tell him your feelings arose again. But you didn’t want to confuse him or hurt him. On the other hand, you felt it so strongly. He deserved some validation, didn’t he?

“Joe, I love you,” you said, so quietly you wondered if you had even said it aloud. But the look on his face told you that you did.

His eyes widened at first. Then, his brow furrowed. He was wondering if he’d heard you right. Then, all that melted away into the biggest grin you’d ever seen on his lips.

“Y/N, I can’t tell you what it means to hear you say that,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you returned.

It felt so right like this. But then, reality set in. Joe had to return to his hotel. You had two other dates this week. Two other men, who you also adored. As you got up and dressed, you tried not to despair.

You held it together well enough until it was time for Joe to go. He had his backpack slung over his shoulder and he was standing by the door. You slid your arms around him and buried your face in his chest.

“I don’t want you to go,” you said, voice shaking.

He kissed the top of your head. “I wish I didn’t have to, baby.”

You held each other for a long moment as a lump formed in your throat. You sniffled, but tried to hide it, burrowing further into him. He still noticed.

“Hey…” he said gently, pulling away to look at your face. “Hey, don’t cry, honey, I’ll see you soon.”

He wiped a stray tear with his thumb. Then, he pressed his lips to your forehead. Slowly, he detached himself from you. He had to, or you would have held him there all day.

“See you later,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you choked out.

He gave your hand one last squeeze before releasing it and walking through the door. You closed it behind him. You leaned back against it and sank down to the floor, pulling your knees into your chest. Your heart was aching, and you just hoped you hadn’t made a mistake by confessing to Joe.

You had to travel later that day, since your next date was hours away, on the coast. Missing Joe terribly, you made your way to Papamoa Beach, where you would have a date with Ben the following day. The thought of seeing Ben raised your spirits.

The morning of your date, you were feeling much better. You had so much to look forward to with Ben. He was fun and cheerful and had the sweetest heart. And this date was going to be really cool.

You met him on the beach, wearing just a pair of shorts over your bathing suit. Ben came out onto the sand, looking straight out of a magazine in his tank top and swim trunks. You waved to him and he jogged over to you, planting an enthusiastic kiss on your lips when he reached you. You beamed at him as you parted.

“So, what have you got in store for today?” he asked.

“Something super fun,” you told him. “Since you’re so active, I know you’ll love it.”

“Now, I’m very curious,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Come with me,” you said, taking his hand.

Together, you walked down the beach, where a tall, broad man with long dark hair was waiting for you. He was extremely tan, so you figured he spent most of his days out here.

“Hello, Y/N and Ben,” he said with a thick New Zealand accent. “I’m AJ and I’m your surfing instructor for today. Have either of you ever surfed before?”

“I have,” Ben said.

“I have not,” you admitted.

“Alright, that’s perfectly fine,” AJ said. “We teach all ages and skill levels. We’ve got some suits and boards waiting for you in there.”

He pointed to the building of the surf school. You and Ben went in and got changed. When you came back out, Ben looked you up and down before biting his lip. You stifled a giggle.

Ben: I’m having such a wonderful time on this date. Y/N looks amazing in that bodysuit, so I am so grateful tonight’s the fantasy suite because it’s getting harder and harder to keep my hands off her. Obviously, it’s all up to her, I’m thrilled just to hold her, but I am ready for more. To take our relationship further and grow more together.

You were each given a board and then you followed AJ. He gave you some instruction on the sand - and some important safety information - but before you knew it, you were in the water, paddling out to beyond where the waves were starting. AJ went over a few more basics, and helped you find your balance on the board.

Ben tried to ride a wave first, since he had done it before. He looked so good out there. He smiled, tongue poking out between his teeth, and he glided through the water on the crest of the wave. You wondered how many times he had done this because he didn’t seem nervous. He had clearly mastered the art.

You had no such luck. Even keeping in mind everything AJ told you, your timing was off when you tried to stand up, and the wave knocked you clear off the board. The ocean tossed you around a minute as the wave moved past you. Then you kicked up toward the surface. You sucked in air and wiped your eyes as you broke it.

You were already laughing along with Ben and AJ. You knew it looked hilarious. Ben’s smile was infectious as you climbed back on the board and paddled back to where he waited for you.

“It was a great try, love,” he said through his laughter.

“You’re just being nice, it was terrible,” you returned.

“Not to worry,” AJ assured you. “There’s still lots of ocean for you to try.”

You made several more attempts. Ben did as well, nailing it over and over again. You, on the other hand, were missing the mark. It got to the point where you were actually getting frustrated.

“Come on, love,” Ben said at last. “Don’t pout. You can do it.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, to his amusement.

“Try one more time,” he encouraged.

You met his eyes, and at the look on his face, your resentment ebbed away. He wasn’t being condescending or spouting empty words of praise. He really believed in you.

With a determined smirk, you got back on the board. You waited a minute or two before you saw it coming - the perfect wave. Eagerly, you began to paddle forward. You were going to get it this time. You had to.

You rode it until just before it crested. You popped up onto your feet. You didn’t fall! You were riding the wave! Adrenaline surged through you as you surfed - properly surfed! Your legs were wobbly, but you didn’t fall until the wave crashed, and you went down. But this time, you went down having accomplished the goal. When your head broke the surface again, Ben was already beside you, pulling you out of the water and onto his board.

“That was amazing, love!” he cheered.

“I did it!” you cried.

“You did it!” he affirmed.

He sat you down beside him and kissed you. Your mouths were wet and salty from being in the ocean all day, but you didn’t care. You had triumphed because he supported you. His hands found their way to the sides of your face as he deepened the kiss.

“Incredible,” he said.

You chuckled. “You were incredible. I didn’t manage to actually do it until the end.”

“Well, I’m bloody proud of you,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, beaming.

After the lesson, you returned to shore to have a small picnic. It was just cheese and crackers with some wine. The suits and boards, you returned to AJ. Then you both sat on the blanket, realizing you were starving, and went in on the food.

“So, where’d you learn to surf?” you wondered.

“In California,” he said. “We had a series of matches out there, and in my down time, I picked it up. Then I got my whole team doing it.”

“Well, it was super sexy,” you told him.

“You’re way sexier,” he argued. “Your body in that suit was...incredible.”

You flushed at his words and under his gaze.

You chatted a little longer on the beach. Then it was time to prepare for the evening portion of the date. You were excited to be in a dress and makeup after Ben had watched you wipe out all day. Not that you minded being goofy around him, but tonight was big. You wanted to be beautiful and sexy.

You walked with him to a beach side bar that was reserved for you. The candlelight was soft and warm, and made you feel cozy despite the breeze. Ben pulled your chair out for you. You sat down together.

“Thanks for being so supportive today,” you said. “I was being such a baby.”

“No, you weren’t,” he assured you. “It’s natural to get frustrated at stuff like that.”

“You were still so amazing to me,” you said. “I appreciate you so much.”

“Of course,” he said. “I love you.”

You were convinced you’d never grow tired of hearing those words from his mouth. Once again, you were struck with the desire to say it back. But you refrained. You were already feeling guilty for telling Joe, and you didn’t want to do the same thing with Ben. You smiled.

“I feel like your hometown date went so well,” you said. “This is going in a direction that makes me excited. I feel so sure of you, Ben. I know it made me nervous when you told me that you’ve never been in love before, but I’m not now.”

“No?” he wondered.

You shook your head. “I can feel what you feel for me. And you show me every time we’re together.”

You took his hand and stared into his eyes. You felt the words coming up in your throat. Only, you couldn’t stop them. You felt them too powerfully.

“I love you too, Ben,” you said.

Inwardly, you kicked yourself. How did these guys make your resolve so weak? Not that you minded too much, but you felt like you were messing up. Like it wasn’t decent behavior for the Bachelorette.

Ben’s smile made your regret fade. It didn’t disappear entirely, but you felt better that you’d said it.

“I love you more,” he said.

“Oh, don’t start,” you joked.

You laughed together. When it died down, you squeezed his hand.

“We’ve come a long way,” you said. “This journey hasn’t always been easy, but I want to keep going with you.”

“I do too,” he said.

“So, there’s an envelope on the table,” you said. “Why don’t you open it and read what’s inside?”

He smiled - making your heart jump - and then reached over to pick it up. You waited with bated breath as he cracked open the seal and pulled out the card.

“Y/N and Ben,” he read. “Welcome to beautiful Papamoa Beach. I hope you enjoyed learning something new together. Should you choose to forgo your individual rooms, please use this key to stay as a couple in the fantasy suite. Chris Harrison.”

“What do you say?” you wondered.

“I say absolutely,” he told you. “How could I not want more time with you?”

You giggled.

Just down the beach from the bar, production had put together a glamorous hut. It sat a good ways from the shoreline for when high tide came in, but you could still see the ocean from the doorway. Inside, there was a gorgeous queen bed. Candles and twinkle lights illuminated the one room structure with a soft, warm glow. Rose petals dotted the white comforter. Champagne was already iced down and waiting for you on the side table.

“Is this glamping?” Ben teased.

“This is definitely glamping,” you replied with a smirk.

“There’s nobody I’d rather glamp with,” he said.

“Same,” you returned.

With that, he closed the door to the cameras. You turned off your mic packs first thing. A beat passed as you looked at each other. Then you collided. It was all frantic tongue and teeth at first, desperate as you were to be close. You felt Ben’s hands at the back of your dress. He tugged the zipper down and it fell away from your body. You shoved his blazer off his shoulders and then quickly got to work on the buttons of his shirt.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathed onto your neck as he kissed you. “You’re so beautiful. I love you so much.”

“I love you, Ben,” you sighed back.

You kissed his chest when you opened his shirt up. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. It forced you to pause. You stood there together, you just in your thong and he was shirtless. Your chests pressed together made you feel his heartbeat. It matched your own. Hot desire coursed through you. You wanted more, but he held you firmly.

“Just a minute,” he said. “Gotta breathe.”

You rested your head on his chest. You realized that you needed to breathe too. So, you caught your breath together. As you slowly inhaled and exhaled, you felt yourself uniting with Ben. Your hearts beat together. Your lungs worked together. Your bodies could have melted into each other. It was a moment of true tenderness, where your heart met his.

As your breathing evened out, both your hands began to roam. Fingers brushed deftly over sweltering skin. It sent a shiver up your spine to feel the feather lightness of his touch.

“How do you want this?” he asked.

You held his gaze. His pupils were blown wide with lust, but they were still that charming shade of green. You smiled. His eagerness to please you was not something you were used to. No man had ever asked for explicit instructions.

“I want you in every way I can have you,” you told him.

“Maybe I should clarify,” he chuckled. “How do you want me first? Tell me what will make you feel best.”

You blushed. “Really?”

He shrugged and rubbed your back. “What can I say? I’m an athlete, I like to be coached.”

“Well then,” you replied. “You can start by kissing me again.”

“I’ll kiss you forever.”

He claimed your lips once more, passionately. As your desire grew, you found it easier to tell him what you wanted. Ben was an attentive and giving lover. He seemed to thrive on your instructions and requests. It showed you the kind of man he was. He would do anything in the world for you. Your happiness was his happiness. Your pleasure was his pleasure. Your love was his love.

You and Ben only made love twice because he spent so much time exploring each other. He was so intent on making you feel amazing - something he accomplished over and over again. You’d never had so many orgasms in one night. And each one made you see stars. Your love for Ben ripened into deep passion.

The next morning, Ben was awake before you. He rolled over and saw the morning light catch your hair, and he felt a pang of sadness. As much as he was enjoying this, his time with you was almost over. You had another date, and unfortunately could not spend the whole day together. Still, he watched you sleep a moment longer.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he placed a soft kiss to your cheek. Even asleep, you smiled. You stirred and stretched slowly. Finally, your eyes opened and you took in Ben’s familiar form.

“Morning,” you yawned.

“Morning, love,” he replied. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You can always wake me with kisses, hun,” you assured him.

He smiled half heartedly and looked away. You rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up onto your elbows.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m just…” he sighed. “I’ll be very sorry to leave you today. I hate this.”

You cut your eyes away from him so he wouldn’t see you tearing up.

“I hate this too.”

He gathered you up in his arms, laying you on his chest.

“I know I’ll see you again soon,” he said. “But I also know there are still two other men in this. I just...I don’t know if...I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I can’t promise anything right now. I don’t even know what decisions I’ll make at this point. And it’s so unfair to you because I know what all of y’all need right now is some validation, and I just...I’m not able to do it, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, don’t apologize,” he soothed you, kissing the top of your head. “S’alright. It’s just getting more difficult for me, and I want you to know where my head’s at.”

“I get that,” you said. “I appreciate you being so honest with me, Ben. Really. I wish there was something I could do to make it better, but even though I can’t, I want to know what you’re thinking. And how you’re feeling.”

“I’ll do my best to be open,” he said. “But I want you to do the same for me. As much as you can. The last thing I want is to be blindsided.”

“I understand,” you said. “I will tell you my feelings as soon as I can. I never want to hurt you.”

“Thanks, love,” he said.

You had some breakfast before he had to leave. It was another gut-wrenching goodbye. Things were more serious with Ben than you had anticipated. And now you had told two men that you loved them. It hit you suddenly that you were going to break someone’s heart. And you still had one more date left in the week.

You felt heavy going into your date with Gwilym. Once again, you had to travel a bit to get to where you were meeting him. As excited as you were to see him, you were also terrified. You knew how you felt about Gwilym, and it was strong. You knew he felt similarly, though he hadn’t said outright that he loved you. You needed to clarify everything.

You met Gwilym just outside your destination. He smiled widely at you, and you rushed forward to jump into his arms. He caught you as you wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him deeply.

“Well,” he chuckled as your lips parted. “I missed you too.”

“I hope you’re ready for today,” you replied.

He set you down, but kept a hold of your hand.

“What are we getting up to?” he asked.

“We are at Polynesian Spa,” you explained. “We are going to get treated today and relax after all these crazy weeks. That sound good?”

“That sounds perfect,” he said.

You went inside together. You and Gwil got the full treatment. You started with facials, before moving on to a massage. Your body was physically relaxed, but your mind was sort of going wild. Luckily, the nature of this day helped you to forget about the stress of your situation. During your massage, you cleared your mind and let yourself live in this moment with Gwilym.

After your massage, you went out to a private pool that overlooked Lake Rotorua. The water was warm and soothing. You felt especially relaxed now after being pampered, and you just wanted to enjoy this time with Gwilym.

“I’m so glad we get to chill,” you said, moving closer and leaning into him. You rested your head on his shoulder.

“I am too,” he replied. “Has your week been difficult?”

“A bit,” you said. “I’m feeling the pressure of things even more now than I was before, and I know that feelings are going to get hurt and I just….this is getting hard.”

“I’m sorry, cariad,” he said gently, kissing your head. “We’re coming to the end. Your feelings are real. Of course it’s hard.”

“How are you feeling?” you wondered.

“I’m feeling really good about us,” he told you. “I feel like last week went well. My family adored you. Which affirmed my feelings a lot.”

“I liked your family a lot too,” you said. “Your mom mentioned how hard you took your fiance’s death and it showed me how much they care about you. I admire that.”

“Yes, I relied quite heavily on my family during that time,” he said. “I even stopped going to read to the children for a while. I was just...not at all myself.”

“It’s almost hard for me to imagine,” you said. “I feel like you’re such a wonderful person and you’re mostly positive.”

“Grief is a great complexity,” he said. “I still don’t understand a lot of what I went through. But I know that every step of my life has led me to you. And for that, I’m most grateful.”

You smiled and straightened up to look at him. Then you coiled your arms around his neck, splashing the water a little bit, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I’m so grateful I met you too,” you replied when you parted. “I thank God every day for it.”

He kissed you again. You stayed there, making out with him, for what felt like hours. You didn’t feel the sun or the water. Just Gwilym’s mouth on yours. You swore you steamed up the pool with the heat of the kisses. It made you grateful that tonight was the fantasy suite. You were so attracted to him, and you wanted to explore the physical connection some more.

As the sun began to set over the water, it was time to get ready for the evening portion of the date.

Gwilym: I’m excited about tonight. Y/N and I have a wonderful connection. We’ve been strong since the beginning. Truly, I could see us at the end of all this. I’m still falling steadily in love with her, and I want to explore our relationship further. I want to keep working on our relationship forever, hopefully.

You met up with Gwilym at a bar that had been reserved for the two of you. As relaxed as you’d felt earlier, your body was now tense. You needed to have a serious talk with Gwilym about the relationship and find out where he stood.

You sat down together at a little table. He pulled your chair out for you, and you thanked him. Then, he took up his drink as he sat beside you.

“To a wonderful day,” he said. “And the most incredible woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“Cheers,” you giggled.

You clinked glasses and you each took a sip.

“So,” you said, setting your wine down. “I feel like we need to talk about where we are and how exactly we’re feeling.”

“I’m alright with that,” he said. “Would you like to start?”

“Sure,” you said. “Gwilym, I’m definitely falling in love with you. You have stood out to me since night one, and I think we’ve had a really solid relationship. I appreciate your honesty, how dedicated you are to this, and your vulnerability. I know I can see a future with you.”

He smiled as you spoke.

“That’s lovely to hear,” he said. “I feel the same. We’re going strong. You’ve been as fair and honest in this whole process as you could, and I appreciate it. You make it so easy to be vulnerable with you because you are also so open. We’ve both really let our walls down. I fall more in love with you every day.”

You deflated a little. “So, that’s how you’re feeling. You’re falling in love with me?”

“Yes,” he told you. “That’s where my heart is.”

Your heart sank. So, he was falling behind. He noticed your expression shift.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

You sighed. “I feel like….we need to be further along than this.”

“How do you mean?” he pressed.

“You were falling in love with me back in London,” you said. “If you’re in the same place, then it means we’re not progressing.”

He took a sip of his drink, swallowing slowly as he returned it to the table.

“Where do you think we should be?” he wondered.

“I don’t know if we need to be at a certain place,” you said. “But we should be further along than we were a couple weeks ago. We need to be going forward.”

“Just because I’m still falling doesn’t mean we haven’t made progress,” he argued. “I need time to know you more. For me, falling in love….it’s a long way down before I can get there.”

“I understand that,” you said. “But I still feel like we’ve just...plateaued since our one on one. And if we’re going to get engaged soon, then I need to feel like we’re climbing.”

He didn’t answer. His eyes remained fixed on the table. Your heart was beginning to beat wildly against your rib cage.

“Gwil, please, I -”

“Y/N, I can’t tell you that I’m in love with you while you’re still involved with two other men,” he said, cutting across you. “I want to be the one at the end of this who gets down on one knee, but I cannot fully give my heart to you until you can give yours to me.”

For a moment, it felt like all the air was sucked out of your body. It was such a confusing thing to hear. Did that mean that he was in love with you and he just wasn’t saying it? That felt like a betrayal, especially when he’d always promised to be honest with you.

“So…” you began, deciding to ask the blunt question. “Are you in love with me? It’s your pride that won’t let you say it because there are still two other guys here?”

He sighed. “That’s not it. I don’t think I can get there unless we’re getting there together. I’m not in love with you yet.”

“Gwilym, that doesn’t make any sense!” you cried. “You knew what this process was when you signed up for it. Don’t you think you need to be in love before you get engaged?”

“Yes, of course, that’s the idea,” he returned. “But, because this is a unique journey, I knew that I’d need to be actually proposing before I could feel like we can really love each other. I don’t have that confidence while the others are still here.”

“None of you can be absolutely confident,” you said. “I’m not even confident of what decision I’ll make right now. But you have to take a chance. I know my heart is being pulled in different directions right now, but if I don’t have confidence that you’re where I need you to be in order for me to accept a proposal from you...then I don’t know what we’re going to do, Gwil. Because I need to be in love before I can say yes to someone.”

“Joe and Ben...have they told you they’re in love with you?” he asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” you replied.

“Right, sorry,” he said. “But I am getting the impression that it’s not that we haven’t made progress, it’s that I haven’t made the same progress as they have.”

“This isn’t about them,” you said. “This is about me and you. Our relationship is not about what’s going on with the other relationships.”

“But you must compare them,” he said. “How else do you make a decision?”

“I make my decision based on what happens between each person,” you said. “Yeah, some comparison happens, but I evaluate everything individually.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to call you into question. You’ve been an excellent Bachelorette, but that’s just the thing. You’re the Bachelorette. If your heart really is being pulled in other directions, then can’t you understand why I struggle to feel confident?”

“I do,” you said. “And I’ve been in your shoes, remember? I’ve been on the other side of this. But I wasn’t afraid. I let myself take the chance and fall in love.”

A beat passed. He once again, did not answer. You took his hand.

“I’m doing the same thing now,” you said. “I love you, Gwilym.”

He stiffened and squeezed his fingers around yours.

“I…” he trailed off. “I’m sorry. I just can’t get there like this.”

You took a shaky breath, choking back tears. “So, what’s going to happen with us? Where are we going to go from here?”

“I dunno, Y/N,” he said. “I just don’t know.”

To be continued...

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imaginesbymk · 5 years ago

Text

PINK + WHITE.

—CHAPTER SIX ; JUST ANOTHER WOMAN.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

BACK in 1918, Teresa wished she could kiss Tommy again. When he returned home from the war, kissing him felt like kissing a stranger. He was there physically, but not mentally, spiritually. He just wasn't all there. It was no surprise to Teresa. Without even an ounce of experience fighting in the trenches and ducking for cover when a grenade is thrown, she had an idea on what horrors Tommy faced before referring himself as a patriarch. The one thing he wanted to do was drink and throw things around before finally seeing his family again. His lips she used to kiss were cracked dry, trembling from the dirt.

But that was 1918. Teresa kept her patience with Tommy as the shell shock brought him sleepless nights and downing more booze and night terrors. Now it was near end of January 1926, Teresa stood in front of another man she was once in love with, someone who was a soldier for the Spinietta family. Or perhaps a man she might still be in love with...

"Miss Griffith!" Alfie exclaims, getting up from the stool before stopping one of the henchman to march over to the girl. "Uh, uh, uh! Hang on, let me give my best loyal customer a proper greeting."

"Shalom, Mr. Solomons," Teresa smiles, embracing the man.

"Shalom, my dear!" And Alfie kisses her both on the cheeks before remembering Luca was still there. Alfie looked at the Italian. "Well, mate since you now look like you've seen six heads on one body, I'm going to boldly assume you and Miss Griffith had some history. So don't mind me, pretend I'm not here." He sits back down, putting his glasses back on and jotting something in his slip of paper he takes out from his pockets.

Luca stared hard at Alfie, then at Teresa, then back at Matteo. There were no words. What even was there to appropriately react to this? What was even there to say? The match stick was soaked with his saliva from staying in his mouth so uncomfortably, but he bit it down with his teeth to keep it from falling and to just clench it from his sudden frustration.

Teresa was just as at a loss of words when she saw the Italian. She even recognized his cousin standing behind him. What were the odds? She was just talking about him to Michael Gray whom he had an encounter with prior to warning her at her art exhibition.

Teresa hated winter but she loved covering herself with the warm buttoned up trench coat to shape out her slim figure, Luca noticed that. He also noticed how her hair was in waves, just like how the women were styling their hair when there wasn't a special occasion. It wasn't new to see the same thing, but he had to admit, it was nice to see those blonde locks again. Luca always tucked a strand of it behind her ear before lowering his head to kiss her so passionately- the lips- yes, he does remember kissing them, too. But kissing her in that moment wouldn't be as beautiful as the first time.

"Hi." Teresa smiled at him, even though she felt like smashing one of Alfie's rum bottles on the floor in anger.

"Miss Griffith," he greets her. His accent thickened as it drew a low volume. "What're you doing here?"

"Came to see Alfie, I owe him money for bringing rum to my grand re-opening."

"You're still directing in Penarth?"

Teresa nodded. "We showcased art deco."

"Oh. Well, congratulations on the exhibition."

"Thank you." There was a short pause. "How about you? You're here to buy rum?"

"Business," he replies. "We're here on business."

"Yeah, okay. This conversation is as immensely dry as the Sahara desert," Alfie removed his glasses. "Unfortunately, I cannot leave you two unattended with my bread in my bakery unless you're here to pay up."

"This ain't no fucking bakery, Mr. Solomons," Luca snaps.

"Mate, I will smash a lead pipe on your obnoxious fucking face if you make one more comment on my business that you intend on taking from me," Alfie emphasized the last part of his sentence, then switched his expression to smile sweetly at the lady. "Now, you said you're here to pay me?"

Teresa pulls out her purse, handing Alfie a stack of cash. "Ten pounds. But it was worth it, the guests loved your rum, Mr. Solomons. I thank you again."

Alfie chanted, counting the bills in his hands one by one. "Thank you for choosing Solomons' Fine Old Rum. I hope to see you again in the future. Right, I'll leave you two alone now, but please don't fuck on top of my barrels! The bottles are very fragile, it'll cost you another tonne for damages, mate."

And he was gone.

Following the white noise and footsteps from the workers in the background, behind the men he brought with him, it really was just the two of them. Matteo cleared his throat, queuing him and his other men to walk over to pat Teresa down. She cooperates knowing she was armed with a handgun strapped to the inside the coat, in which they confiscated, much to her annoyance. After searching her, Luca kept his stare.

"What?" Teresa says. "You're still in shock?"

"It's just..." he trails off. "Seeing an old face again gives me a weird feeling in my gut."

Matteo leaned over, muttering a comment in Italian, causing Luca to let out a chuckle. Teresa frowned at that. Luca knew Teresa didn't speak Italian as English and Welsh were the only two she was fluent in, not even when they dated she picked up a few basic Italian words and sentences here and there. But having people presumably make a remark at you in a language you didn't know was a barrier, and yet it still stung.

"You said you came here on business?" Teresa didn't even need to enlighten her question. She knew exactly what Luca was doing back in England. "Yet you came to see Alfie. I'm just gonna assume it's a proposition."

"Sure," Luca said dryly. "My men and I will be on our way." Luca turned his heel, chewing on the ends of his match stick.

"Not so fast, Luca," Teresa crossed her arms. "you ended things on a sour note and you don't even care."

He turned back around, rolling his eyes. "What?"

"Luca, you hurt me. You were in such a hurry to leave me, now that we're standing in front of each other you're not gonna own up to what you did? Don't you even remember me?"

"Six years ago, I took you to my cousin's wedding and we began seeing each other afterwards. Yes, I do remember you, I just don't remember everything. The average man sees almost a dozen women a day."

"No, they don't," Teresa shakes her head. Do they?

He places the match back in between his teeth. "That was six years ago. You think I'd recall every single thing?"

"Well to me, it was special. You made me happy. But I guess it wasn't special for you."

"I'm serious about how many women we see a day. I would see them from parties, some coming to talk about business," Luca waves his hand. "It's like being in a candy store, you dunno where to start, so you just grab a fuckin' load of 'em." Then he smirks to Matteo. "Un sacco di caramelle." And they both chuckle.

She froze at the thought of Luca seeing other women while he lived back in New York, jumping from one to another. Yet again, no surprise. He's a gangster.

"So I meant nothing to you?" Teresa had to ask.

Luca looked down. "I was happy, can't deny that. I guess I never really had time to settle down with someone. When I went back to America, I've never felt more at home than the old country. I became more successful than ever. My family invested in so much just so we could walk around the streets like we owned New York City. So, when I was staying here after the wedding, there was really nothing else to do other than... squeeze in some fun. So-"

Please don't say it...

"You were just another woman." Teresa felt like her body was shrinking. Luca Changretta was kind to her, supported her work, he let her hold one of his Thompson guns for the first time like it was a trophy. He shared his passions, his secrets, his fears, as she did to same. He even promised to take her to Italy one day. But the man standing in front of her looked at her like she was a creature. Perhaps all gangsters carried that kind of attitude, some of them just don't care after.

Gulping the back of the throat to prevent choking out a cry, she spoke back. "Right. Well, welcome back. It's nice to see you again."

Luca nodded as a response and turned to his men. "Andiamo." He was the first to walk back the way he came, Matteo following, then the rest of his men that stood in formation were the last.

"Can I..." Teresa stops him. He turned back around, raising his brow. "...have my gun back?"

Luca tilted his head at Matteo to retrieve it back to her. Matteo walked back to his boss, continuing to make their way down the corridors.

What a way to make an exit, she thought. She didn't have anyone to follow her around, so she exited the back door all by herself, dragging her cold feet and her shattered heart.

+ honestly, this entire reunion chapter sounded better in my head. so writing this was a huge challenge because i need more practice, therefore i hate this piece. but yes, luca is a bitch. "b i c t h... and in that order."

+ btw, alfie ships luca and teresa. periodt.

#pink+white #luca changretta x oc #luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta #luca changretta fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders

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crazyassmurdererwall · 5 years ago

Note

1, 5, 7, 14, 16, 23, 44

01. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?

I believe I was 14 or 15 when I started reading, 15 or 16 when I started writing it, but for the life of me I can’t remember the first fandom I read fic for.

05. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?

Most of my fanfic pet peeves have to do with poor formatting or bad editing - like when a fic has no spaces between paragraphs or lots of spelling errors. And yes, I will absolutely back button right away when I see that. There’s so much good fic out there that I don’t have time to waste on fics that give me a headache just trying to read them.

But another thing that really bugs me is when someone disses their own work, or writes something like ‘Bad summary’. Seeing that will automatically make me skip past the fic. Don’t tell me that! Just put up your summary and let me decide for myself if I like the fic or if I want to read it!

Another thing: inaccuracies. Things I just know are wrong. It makes me crazy when I read something that’s incorrect, and then I spend the rest of the fic focused on that. My logical brain will not let that go.

But on a more shallow note, it drives me nutballs when a character ‘pops the P’. Like please, can we all move on from that description? I beg of you.

07. Do you prefer to read short fics or long fics?

I think I flex between the two, honestly. It just depends on my mood. Sometimes I have no attention span and can only focus on short stuff, sometimes I want to deep dive into a whole world. When I’m on my lunch break at work, I almost always look for short fics though - I want an entire story I can finish because I hate having to wait to finish things.

14. Do you have a personal word minimum that you hold yourself too? Why or why not?

Not really. I think as long as it’s a couple K it feels long enough to post. But I tend to focus more on whether the story has been completely told than whatever word count I’m at. Also my work tends to run on the longer side rather than the shorter, so I’m never right when I estimate anyway. I guess I could give myself a limit but I’d always shoot past it. So it feels like an unnecessary thing to focus on.

16. Do you research for your fics? If so, how deep of a rabbit hole have you gone down by accident when researching?

Sure, yeah. Always have. I love research because I love learning new things. And I’ve learned a hell of a lot of new things while researching. I know a fair amount about twin births, famous violins...things like that. And all because of fic research. (And because I’m boundlessly curious.)

I remember once I got way deep into researching unsolved child murders - grisly and fascinating, but to this day I can’t remember how I got there or what it was I was researching initially.

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?

Uh...domestic fic, probably. Stories that rely more heavily on character connections and relationships than they do on plot. I don’t know if that counts as an actual trope, but if you look through most of my fics, that’s what you find most often.

I don’t know if there are any other patterns - you tell me!

44. Rant about something writing related.

Oh man, I desperately wish those authors who tag every damn thing under the sun would just stop. Now. Just pick the most essential tags and be done with it. I’m not going to read anything with a wall of tags. I can’t be fussed to read them - they make me tired just looking at them.

#cinematicnomad #asks #i actually have more pet peeves but i just didn't want that question to be one massive rant #long post

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damienthepious · 5 years ago

Text

okay so this went up at 11:51pm on ao3 but tumblr formatting is a nightmare so uh. happy LKT to timezones that are are still in Tuesday Time? whatever, I made it, somehow. it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine.

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 15)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [ao3] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol), Mutual Pining, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: The humans take a very truncated tour.

Chapter Notes: BOY I'M CUTTIN IT CLOSE THIS WEEK. WORLD GOT ME DOWN, SORRY FAM. I'm RUSHING through to post please forgive any formatting weirdness or typos and also forgive the fact that this chapter is a bit shorter than the last few have been. haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

The Keep releases the humans, and it settles Arum back on his feet as well, warbling a song that blends confusion and warmth and a number of other feelings that bleed through their link, almost overwhelming after Arum has spent so long with only his own emotions to process.

Damien rubs his wrists with a strange, unreadable look on his face, but Amaryllis is still holding one of the vines, gently pulling it close enough to examine, her eyes wide. Neither reaction sets Arum at ease, but he supposes that this was not the warmest of welcomes for them, all things considered.

He-

Arum does not know what to do, now that he is home, and they are here with him.

“So,” Amaryllis says, releasing the vine as he draws closer to them. “This is your… Keep?”

“I… it… yes, yes, this is the Keep,” he says, and the moss is soft and familiar between his clawed toes. “My Keep is… I told you we are meant to protect each other. It thought- it did not know you were not a threat, and it has not seen- it has been without-”

“You’ve been away for a long time,” she says gently, and Arum hates the way his heart lurches for her easy words. “Must be nice to be home.”

“I imagine that is quite the understatement,” Damien says softly, though he is not looking at either of them, and Arum laughs, very lightly.

“Indeed. Keep, I-”

He feels the Keep observing, feels the way it is parsing his own emotions and the way it is observing the humans as well, and it is somewhat like seeing the pair of them again, for the first time. It is distracting, though not unpleasant.

The Keep sings, and Arum watches the way that Amaryllis’ eyes light up with curiosity.

“So, I get that it’s alive, but- you can talk to it?”

It hums around them, answering for itself, and Arum can’t help his smile.

“We speak, yes.”

Amaryllis opens her mouth, clearly to ask another question, to continue to chase this new mystery, but she pauses. Her eyes narrow, and then she tilts her head.

“You- huh. You’re standing more easily. Are you- hang on.” She reaches a hand towards him and Arum tilts his head, and when her fingers brush the edge of his frill he clenches his teeth together to keep from making some noise at the contact. “That looks- the tissue is- is the Keep healing you?” she asks, sounding both impressed and a little- irritated, perhaps?

“What?” Damien says, finally looking towards them again, and Arum stiffens at their combined scrutiny, standing a little straighter. “What do you- oh.”

“Oh?” Arum echoes.

“You look- Rilla, have his scales taken on- more color?”

“I think so, actually. Arum-”

“I told you,” he growls. “Our connection is difficult to explain.”

“But it’s healing you. You’re already better than you were a few minutes ago.”

“Of course I am. We- we help each other. We protect each other.”

Rilla, strangely, looks furious now. “If you told me it could make you better in minutes , we would have tried to bring you home a hell of a lot faster, Arum!”

“It- it is not instantaneous, and it did not seem like something you would believe, Amaryllis.”

“Maybe not at first, Arum, but you’ve been healing like a damned glacier and you could have been better so much faster if you just told me-”

Arum finds that he is smiling. He is reminded with a pang that he will miss this, miss her arguments and her fire, miss the soft tension of passing time with Sir Damien as well, and the smile abruptly flickers off. He swallows, looking away.

“I apologize, then,” he says, and Rilla’s argument comes to a halt. “Believe that if there was any way I thought I could have come back to my Keep any faster, I certainly would have.”

She opens her mouth, then sighs and smiles wryly.

“I suppose this accounts for the escape attempts, then,” Damien murmurs, and Arum chokes on a laugh.

“Quite. Not, I now admit, that I could possibly have gotten here on my own in that state.”

“Stubborn,” Rilla mutters, and when Damien raises a pointed eyebrow at her she scowls harder.

Damien tilts his head away, burying his smile before he laughs at her irritation, and then he meets Arum’s eyes. He looks- wary, still.

“So… we have delivered you back to where you belong,” he says, tone deceptively light. He pauses for a moment, but neither Arum nor Amaryllis interrupt him. It is too clear that his thought is unfinished. “What… what happens now, Lord Arum?”

Arum’s body tenses, his stance going entirely stiff. He glances towards Amaryllis, who appears precisely as unsure about the question as Arum feels. What happens now, as if Arum had ever truly expected to return home, as if he had planned for this. He had not expected, in his heart, to ever return to the Keep, let alone to do so with these strange, strange humans in tow. Or- with them towing him.

"I…" Arum swallows, feels his tail curling anxiously, and the Keep drifts vines out to touch his shoulders, to steady him. "I suppose… I am- certain that the both of you must be… eager to return home, as well," he murmurs, turning his face away. "But- but it is… late in the day, now. It would make little sense for you to set out again without rest, only to make camp in an hour or so." He pauses for a moment, still not looking at them as he flicks his tongue, and he can practically taste tension hanging in the air, theirs and his own. "I would… it would be wisest for the both of you to stay the night. If you will."

"You… you wouldn't mind letting us stay?" Amaryllis asks quietly, and Arum scoffs.

"I have been imposing on your hospitality for so long a time now that I've entirely lost track, Amaryllis," he growls. "One night at the very least will not make the slightest impact on my own." He pauses. "If you can stand to sleep within a monster structure, of course."

"Your… your Keep will not mind our presence, either?"

This next question from Damien, and Arum glances their way again, raising an eyebrow as the Keep sings its answer, decisively closing the portal behind them at last. Arum notes with no small measure of surprise that neither of the humans appear unsettled, that their escape route has vanished.

"Its sense of hospitality is far more developed than my own," he mutters. "I doubt very much it could be convinced to allow you to leave without at least providing you a meal."

Amaryllis smiles. "Does the Keep cook, then, or do I finally get to see your theoretical culinary skills?"

Arum shoots the doctor a glare, puffing up his chest as he growls. "I assure you, Amaryllis, that you will see that my culinary skills are completely and entirely," he pauses, "adequate."

Amaryllis blinks, and then bursts into laughter, her entire body jolting with it as she leans against Damien, who is pursing his lips together tight, his eyes sparkling with his own barely suppressed mirth.

Arum is glad that they are too caught in the amusement to look at him, for only a few moments. He does not like to think what they will see on his face, if they look at him right now. Their joy, bubbling bright within his home-

It is overwhelming.

"Keep," he says before they've entirely recovered, looking away. "Open the way, if you would."

Amaryllis stops laughing as the doorway opens again, the noises of chiming and insects and life drifting lazily through the passage, and her eyes light with curiosity, as Arum had hoped they would.

"It seems… appropriate, that I should show you my home, as you showed me yours, does it not?"

"A tour?" she says, raising an eyebrow, and Arum snorts. "Sure, sounds fun, actually."

"What… what is through there?" Sir Damien asks, his own curiosity mitigated rather obviously by his nerves.

"The room I believe Amaryllis will take the greatest interest in," he says with a shrug. "I did not think the impatient creature should like to wait."

"Okay, fair," Rilla says with a grin. "But now you have to tell me."

Arum barely manages to suppress another laugh. "Come, then, you ridiculous creature. Let me show you my greenhouse."

There's just so much, is the thing. So much life, so many plants and fungi that Rilla has either needed to pay out the nose for, scrabble tooth and nail to find on her own, has only seen in sketches, or didn't even believe existed at all, before. It's like a dream, honestly. If Arum hadn't already told her about the Hermit (a bittersweet sting, that memory- she can't help but be disappointed that the flower was destroyed, but the fact that he trusted her enough to tell her is- interesting evidence), she would have it in the back of her mind anyway, half expecting it to be hidden here, among so many other impossible specimens.

The space is enormous- the Keep itself must be huge, the size of a town, maybe, and it would probably take her weeks to see everything that Arum has in his collection.

Longer, actually, because his collection is exactly as organized as the swamp outside. She's beginning to see where he was coming from, exactly, with his complaints about her own organizational systems.

"So that's the pond you were talking about, for keeping the Jungle Flame from causing trouble?"

Arum and Damien have been drifting behind her, Arum tapping a surprising degree of patience as she bolts from wonder to wonder, and now he nods, his lip turning wryly.

"I may still, despite the strategy you shared. One cannot be too cautious with fire, within a structure such as this."

"No, that makes sense," she says, tilting her head at the pond, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "And the Keep can just- grow an island, there?"

"The Keep is the entirety of this place. It shifts and changes as it is needed."

"That… sounds really cool, actually. Huh."

There is so much, so much to see, to investigate. She could get lost in here, metaphorically speaking. She could just keep finding more and more fascinating things to ask Arum about, more answers to questions she's had penned into the margins of countless journals.

And it's good, she thinks, to have something here to focus on, besides Arum himself. He's so vibrant, now. She didn't realize, all this time, how washed out his injuries had made him, how much he had been muted by pain and recovery. Here, with the Keep performing whatever magic it needs to help him stand easy again, he gleams as glossy as the plants he keeps, he practically thrums with relief and joy, and Rilla-

Rilla's throat hurts, just a bit, because she knows that she won't have any excuse not to leave, when morning comes.

She sinks to kneel, feeling the soft dirt and moss beneath her knees, cool and real and distracting, and she pulls out her recorder.

One more little mystery. Just one more little problem to solve, before she admits to herself that she still doesn't have an answer to the problems that really matter.

Amaryllis is deeply, deeply engrossed with her recorder beside a pair of symbiotically growing plants when Arum realizes that Sir Damien is staring at him, now, instead of at the doctor.

"I apologize, honeysuckle," he says, raising his eyebrow.

Damien blinks. "Apologize? For- for what, precisely?"

"This has been a rather single-minded tour, as Amaryllis put it. We have indulged her curiosities, but I cannot imagine that you share the depth of her interest in my collection of flora."

"Ah," he says, his lip pulling into a surprised smile. "Perhaps not, but- you need not apologize." He turns his gaze towards Amaryllis, then, his smile going gentle. "Her delight is precisely as my own. And besides, it is not as if I expected that we should arrive to your home and you would entertain me, Lord Arum. I did not expect serenades."

Arum chokes a laugh, his tail curling behind him, and-

A thought.

"Not… not serenades, of course," Arum murmurs, and Damien's attention flicks back towards him, curious. "But- perhaps there is something that may interest you." He pauses, and after a moment Damien gestures for him to continue. "I do have a small library. Nothing particularly impressive, and the majority of my volumes will be unreadable to you, but- would you like- rather, I could show you. If you would like."

Damien stares at him for a moment, lips parted, and then he smiles and Arum bites down the rattle that wants to shake in his chest.

"That- yes, that would be- I would be delighted."

"Excellent," Arum says, and then he looks away, his eyes returning helplessly towards Amaryllis for a moment. "Though- she does not seem keen to be pulled away, just yet."

Damien's smile goes soft again, and he shakes his head. "Perhaps not. Just a moment, Arum."

Damien steps closer to his- to Amaryllis, leaning down to murmur something by her ear as she kneels by the flora, and she does not look up from the plant, though Arum sees her mouth move in response, and the focus on her face softens for only a moment when Damien leans the last inch closer to place a kiss at her temple before he straightens and returns to join Arum.

"I told her we would not be long," he explains, and then he makes a rather unnecessarily elegant gesture with his hand.

Rather trusting, Arum thinks, to be so willing to leave Amaryllis alone and unprotected in Arum's Keep. If they meant her harm-

"Right. Right, then." Arum clears his throat. "Keep, the scroll room, if you would?"

Damien watches the vines grow to create the portal with that same mixed trepidation and fascination, but he does not hesitate to step through after Arum, and his eyes widen slightly as he takes in the room.

Amaryllis would call it disorganized, certainly, but such chaos does not trouble Arum. As he said, his library is not impressive by any standards. Literature is not among his more passionate interests, but former Keep-Lords have certainly gathered enough over the Keep's long, long life to amass a decent collection.

"There- oh, so many of these look- positively ancient, Arum," Damien murmurs, lifting a hand but not daring to touch the case of one of the more rare scrolls.

"They are ancient," Arum drawls. "Most of them, anyway. I have added very little to the proceedings, so most of the texts predate my own lifespan. Hence the age. The Keep maintains the air in this space in such a way that it preserves the more delicate parchment. You may examine whatever you like on the shelf on the far wall, however. Those volumes are newer, more sturdy, and if I remember correctly there should be one or two that are written in the human script."

Damien looks bemused for a moment. "You have texts written by humans?"

"Information is information, honeysuckle," Arum says with a shrug, and Damien purses his lips in consideration before he nods, stepping towards the indicated shelf to peruse.

While he is so engrossed, Arum need not force himself to avert his gaze. Damien's focus is… intense. Distracting. It is difficult for Arum, to pull his eyes away. For the moment he does not bother.

"Ah-" Damien laughs very lightly. "It seems you already had a primer in human poetry before we met, Lord Arum," Damien says, running his fingers lightly across the spine of a book and slipping it from the shelf. "I know this poet. She wrote of the Saints, primarily."

Arum clenches his teeth, feeling his frill flutter. "There is little coherency to the collection, little songbird. I could not possibly say how such a work made its way into my hands." He tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at the book as Damien opens it and flips through. "I remember that one, yes." He sneers. "I should apologize, I think, that I cannot provide you more stimulating material to peruse."

"What?" Damien lifts his head. "What do you- mean?"

Arum shrugs, a little aggressively. "I am aware that my collection is limited, honeysuckle. I may have a collection of poetry or two, but I do not possess any volumes of the quality that our doctor shared with me."

"The- the quality?"

"The tome you are holding is rather dry by comparison, I should say," he inhales, hisses a breath, looks away, mutters, "it does not compare. It will not stick in your mind like … like…" he trails off, and- well. The words come almost too easily. "The paper of the lantern will not rise without the flame," he breathes, pretending not to feel his frill rising higher at his neck, "And so ascended I, alight and burning when you came." Arum pauses a long moment, then, feeling the odd way those words curl on his tongue, the way they make him feel, the sympathetic heat they kindle behind the cage of his ribs, and then he exhales again. "Yes. I do not think I shall forget those words, as I have forgotten so many of the dusty poems I have been storing here."

He pauses again, and Sir Damien does not speak. Arum notices, then, that the knight's heart is beating rather quickly, and when he looks to Damien again he presses the book tight against his chest, his lips parting in clear surprise.

"What?" Arum grumbles, thrown by the sudden intensity in Damien's expression, by the heavy tension he can taste on the air. "What, honeysuckle? I have already admitted that your species is… somewhat skilled, in such arts. I will not say so again."

"N-no, I- it is simply that- I- well, you- you read- you read-" he stammers off, losing words entirely for a long moment.

"I read nearly everything Amaryllis provided me in that little basket of hers. Why? What does it matter?" He projects a sneer. "Again, I already told you. Human poetry is not- it is not entirely disagreeable."

"But you read- you read my poe-"

Arum blinks, and stares down at Damien as the poet swallows his words, and Arum's stomach drops in something like panic.

"Those- that- those were… your words?"

"I, ah- yes, I-"

"She stuck them in the basket with the rest," Arum barks, tail thrashing. "She did not mention that- that they were- that they were private-"

"Not-" Damien bursts into a breath of uncomfortable laughter, and Arum barely resists an urge to either bolt from the room or- or to sway closer to the human, instead. "They are not private, not precisely, but- that was from a… a collection, verses written for my- for Rilla. Poetry that my flower inspired, with her brilliance and beauty."

Damien's dark cheeks are darker, now, flushed, and he is looking at the shelf of volumes, away from Arum, and Arum-

More words drift back to him. More phrases, warm and fond, enraptured- sensual, at times, and-

It is no wonder, then, that every line of verse on those pages reminded Arum of her. Of the pair of them. It is no wonder at all, that he had not even noticed Amaryllis enter the room as he read, because her presence was in the room before her, in the words themselves.

Unconsumed, enlightened, and by your heat unfurled

Together, hand in hand, we rose, and made more gold the world.

Arum clenches his own hands, his palms tingling. He should have known, that those words were meant for the love between these two humans. He thinks of their hands, intertwined with such ease. He things of the invitation of Amaryllis' palm, and her gentle invocation of we . He thinks of his little songbird, grasping unseeing in the night, how he settled when Arum took his hand in claws.

He feels what Damien penned. He feels himself a paper lantern. Fragile, and untethered, and close to burning.

"I… I should have… I should have known," He murmurs, and Damien glances towards him again. "Should have recognized your voice upon the page, I think."

"They- many were not-" he pauses, bites his lip, and smiles very cautiously. "You… you enjoyed them? Truly?"

Arum breathes a helpless laugh. "You are a beautiful poet, honeysuckle," he says, and when Damien flushes darker he- winces, glancing away. "Rather- I meant, of course, that your poetry is- not that-"

"It is… it is quite alright, Lord Arum," Damien says. "I thank you for the compliment."

Damien tucks the book of less relevant poetry back onto the shelf, his cheeks still dark as he scans his eyes across the various monster scripts, and Arum clenches his hands.

Beautiful, he thinks again, and there is something almost vicious about it.

"If there is nothing else here that interests you, honeysuckle, we should return to the greenhouse," he mutters.

Damien looks towards him, his eyes flicking oddly across Arum's face for a moment before he looks aside. "Yes," he says softly. "I suppose we should do our best to draw Rilla back to us from her newest puzzle."

Back to us.

He did not mean that.

Arum clenches his hands again, pushes the desire down inside of himself, and summons the way back to the greenhouse.

Arum leaves them briefly, before dinner, so they can finally change out of their travel clothes and scrub off the dust of the road in the Keep's large, strange washroom, and after Damien lowers a hand to help Rilla lift herself out from the large tub (or, perhaps, small indoor pond) made from one enormous waxy leaf, she keeps hold of his hand, pulling him in close so she can throw her arms around his shoulders.

"R-Rilla-"

"Just-" she squeezes him, pressing her face into his neck and sighing there. "One sec. Need- need something that feels normal and real just for- one second."

"Oh… oh Rilla," he strokes a hand down her braid, holding her in return, feeling her breathe softly against his skin. "You know I will always, always hold you, if you ask." He smiles very gently, a laugh in his tone as he continues, "If we were not required to bother ourselves with such mundanities as food and work and rest, I would never let you go."

"That too," she mumbles. "The talking, I mean."

"I suppose I speak at such length that my voice must be as familiar and ordinary as-"

"I love you, Damien," she murmurs, clinging more tightly. "Th-thank you."

Damien's breath catches, his center burning with the sweet shock of it, the way he is never quite used to hearing her say those words. He presses his lips to her hair, to her temple, and he rocks gently on his heels, swaying them together.

"I love you, Amaryllis. I am grateful that I could be at your side along this journey, as I wish to be for the rest of our lives."

"We got him home," she says, her tone a worrying waver.

"So we did," he answers gently. "You've done so much, my love. You saved him. Now all you need do is rest."

"No-" she shakes her head, pulling back slightly so she can meet his eye with a grimace. "No, I can't because I still- Damien, I thought we would get here and I would know what I should do, but- but he's home, we brought him home and he's safe and he's going to really, really heal and I still don't know what to-"

"Rilla…"

"And he thinks we're just desperate to get away from him, doesn't he? He'll let us stay the night and then- and then what, Damien? We just- leave and go back home and pretend like- like none of this happened? Pretend like I can go back to thinking about monsters the way I used to? Pretend I never- pretend that I'm not going to- to miss him, that I don't-"

She cuts off, inhales sharply, closes her eyes and clenches her teeth.

"Rilla," Damien murmurs, and he cups her cheek as she shudders out another breath. "It's alright."

"It's not-"

"It is, my love." Damien manages a smile when she opens her eyes again, scowling at him, and it feels bittersweet on his lips. "You said our feelings could not be part of this discussion until Arum was safe again. He is. He is safe, now, and I think you need to speak your own heart, my Rilla. I think you need to say it."

She stares at him, and fear looks so very strange on his beloved. He brushes his thumb across her cheek, his other hand resting at her waist, and he waits. He is more patient than his love; she may take however long she needs.

"I… Damien, I love him," she says. "I do, I love the way he always seems surprised when he laughs, I love his stupid sense of pride and the way he always gestures with his hands even if it hurts his wrist, I love how clever he is and how he cares so much even if he pretends not to, and I love the way he- he mutters in his sleep and- and when he actually smiles I just want to- to-"

"To take him in your arms," Damien murmurs, and Rilla laughs.

"Yeah. Yeah. Exactly. And- and I don't know how I … I don't know how it happened, Damien, and I didn't- I didn't mean to, but- but I do." She looks down, looks away, wincing again. "I love him."

Damien cannot tear his eyes away from her. He would not be capable of the feat if this place collapsed around him entirely. She is-

Fear does not suit his beloved. Love, however, she wears with such beauty and ease that Damien can hardly breathe for the sight of it.

He lifts his other hand, cupping her face, rising to brush his lips over hers, as delicately as he is able.

"I know," he says. "I know, and I know how, as well. It is … rather obvious, in retrospect. You spent every day with him for months, my love. I am unsurprised that you would see the beauty in each other, that you would learn each other, know each other. You are… the both of you are so entirely brilliant, so clever and stubborn and lovely and fierce…"

Rilla exhales half a laugh. "Damien."

"You fell for him slowly, my darling flower. I told you- I believe you grew together. And I … well. I was not beside the both of you for all of that time. I was distant, in the beginning, both in truth and in feeling, and it took time for me to understand that when I looked at him, I saw… someone, rather than some thing. I imagined so much evil in him, and- I could laugh, now, at my stubbornness, the way I twisted him in my mind, to suit my expectations…" he trails off, shakes his head. "What I mean to say, Rilla, is that I was slower to join you, yes. I was slower to follow you, but-" he thinks his smile has gone sheepish, now. Not quite embarrassment, but the awareness of his own nature making him feel wry. "I think we both know that when I fall, it is a rather quick plunge, my love."

Her eyes flick between his own, not quite disbelieving. "You… you said, before, you said feelings, Damien, but- really?"

"Rilla… my darling, my forever-flower, I know that I told you I would- defer to your choices, that I would allow you to set the pace, allow you to choose what would remain said and what would remain unsaid, between the three of us." He swallows, drops his hands from her cheeks to her shoulders. "But- but I am not built to keep feelings within, my Rilla. Every time he looks at me- every time he smiles I feel the waves crashing within me- the damn has nearly broken so many times already- so many moments I looked at him and longed to say…"

He closes his eyes, feeling helpless and awash, but he inhales slowly and the emotion settles, still swelling large within him, but easier, now. Softer.

"He makes me feel… he makes me feel like you do, Rilla. I look at him… his eyes, so sharp and clever, his strong tail, his claws- his hands, so shockingly gentle …" he breathes something like a laugh. "Loving you, my Rilla, is always so overwhelming. Merely being in your presence is enough to make my heart swell, and race, and beg, and your absence causes me such aching that I feel I could die from it. Already I felt so deeply- so powerfully-" He pauses, laughs again. "I felt so full of love … how could I possibly have anticipated that I was capable of further depth of feeling? My heart, full to bursting already- I did not realize that my heart is not a cup, is not some fragile thing wherein I hold my love for you, that jitters and sloshes when I am overwhelmed, when I falter in my tranquility and take, again, to thrashing. Rilla, my heart is not a cup, it does not merely hold. My heart is a spring, is a source, is ever-flowing, without limit. I love you, my Amaryllis, my flower. I love you forever."

Rilla stares, her cheeks flushed dark, her eyes shining. "And you love him, too."

"I do," he says, gentle and certain.

"And he…" she inhales, exhales, and her brow furrows. "I know he feels something for us, too," she says quietly. "I can't say for sure that it's- it's that, but I know he feels something. I didn't want to think about it, I didn't want to make it all even more complicated, but- but I'm not stupid and- and honestly he's not exactly subtle."

Damien laughs, in surprise more than humor. "That, he is not," he says, and then he pulls his lip into a wry smile. "Rilla… I will still hold my tongue, if you truly think it is best, but … I think- I think, my love, that we could find a way, if we tried. That we could all, perhaps, be happy. That we could have what we wanted." He pauses, bites his lip. "What… what, exactly, do you want, my Rilla? I know how you feel, but what do you want?"

"I…" she laughs, presses a hand over her mouth. "I want- I don't want him out of our lives, at least. I don't want- I can't stand the thought that we'll leave tomorrow and never see him again, I just can't-"

"Rilla, my heart… I did not ask what you are afraid of." He strokes a hand across her hair, soft, soothing. "Please. Tell me what you want."

"I want… I want to know," she admits, leaning into his arms. "I do. I want to know if he feels the same. If- if he loves us too. And-" she laughs, "and I want to kiss him, if he'll let me."

"Yes," Damien says through his own laughter. "Quite." He tightens his embrace for a moment, crowding close against Rilla until she laughs again. "I suppose it is good to know that we feel the same in that, as well."

[->]

#elle's fanfic #scattered on my shore #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #lizard kissin' tuesday #rad bouquet #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #the keep #i'm SWEATIN #ARGHHHHHH

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awrenthatwrites · 5 years ago

Text

04.07.2020 | Life and WIP Update

Hello all of my wonderful friends, followers, and readers!

Sorry that I have been basically MIA here on Tumblr, I’ve been trying to settle into a routine here at home and trying to balance not only COVID quarantine, but also some new factors that were added to my life just before. Not all of which are bad! Some are good! I was just trying - am just trying - to work through it all.

I feel like I have gotten back into a steady rhythm, and am slowly coming back to you all here in the Writeblr community.

Thank you to all who have tagged me in things while I have been away, I am going to be catching up on those and hopefully get back to you all who have been in contact with me.

You all mean so much to me!

As for an update on Darkness Reborn:

I had a huge revelation last week and basically scrapped most of my 2.0 outline. (Oof. Why do I do this to myself?) A lot is staying the same. All the characters, and the general plot are all going to be the same as 2.0, but there are going to be some changing of Parts 2 and 3 of book 1 - at the very least.

I haven’t gotten as far as to explicitly plot out outlines for the following books, but the Huge Revelation™ will drastically change the ending of the series and all of my Deep Lore that I have been building up over the last couple of months.

So that’s what I’ve been doing for the past week and a half. Rebuilding my Deep Lore.

It’s coming along a lot better than the original, which is really nice! But it means a complete dissection of the world and the magic and the origin that I had built, and I’m still not sure how the transplant of new lore is going to affect the Darkness Reborn 3.0 outline and plot.

But! Huge Revelation™ is really exciting! And I am so pumped how my view of my work has shifted and fallen into place at once.

I want to give you all explicit information of where I am in the writing stages, even if it is just for me and my bookkeeping, to see my progress.

My plan is to write 2 outlines for each main character’s story line.

The first is a general, paragraph format of different chunks of the story that I am arbitrarily calling ‘arcs’. They’re smaller than ‘Parts’ because until all the outlines are done, I don’t know which characters’ arcs go in which ‘Part’.

The second is a chapter by chapter summary. What is going to happen in each chapter? Who are the major players? How does this chapter build towards the climax of book 1? How does it contribute to the series’ climax? How does it contribute to the world that I have built? How are the hints that I am dropping throughout the novel play into this chapter?

I’m going to finish all Outline 1′s before I start Outline 2′s, just so I can reflect on all of the tiny little threads and make sure they all are weaving together nicely.

So, from here on out:

I am working on my Lore, and I’m in the trenches of the worldbuilding stage, and I promise to give you all updates on how that’s going! (I don’t really have a percentage for this one, but I’d be in the <5% range)

Titania: Outline 1 - 60% complete

Edana: Outline 1 - 0%

Gael: Outline 1 - 0%

Skai: Outline 1 - 0%

Rhonan: Outline 1 - 0%

Eanrin: Outline 1 - 0%

Aven: Outline 1 - 0%

The Hand: Outline 1 - 0%

Novel and Life Updates, I’ll try to do one every Tuesday (because, honestly, what else am I doing with my life right now?). I need the structure of a due date every week for things to be motivated, and you all watching my progress makes me want to do more to see my work progress.

Also with each new outline, I am going to continue to give you all character introductions. I know you guys only know who three of these folks are and that’s really not fair. I also hope, in the future as I write the Outline 2′s, to give you introductions for minor characters too. There are some really cool ones.

-----

Thank you guys so much for bearing with me! I hope that you like the things I have to share with you!

As always, thank you for reading!

Talya

taglist: @mischiefiswritten @feralsong @lilygold23 @spiritedpiper

#talya speaks #talya wrehn #life update #writeblr update #talya's updates #Darkness Reborn #life #tuesdays are update day

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witchywrter · 6 years ago

Text

“Home” (Part 3/?)

Paul Lahote x Reader

Part 2

Summary: y/n returns from college in California to her hometown in Forks to find things are not as she left them. She soon discovers that a lot more things have changed then she initially thought.

Warnings: blood I guess?

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it’s been a hot minutes huh? I’ve been super busy, but I’m gonna try and update more often. Love y’all! This chapter is mostly plot oriented, not an Paul/reader interaction, so I’ll put some in next chapter.

_______________________________________________

Tossing and turning. Not how you thought your first night back would go. Eventually you just sat up in bed. You looked out the window, it’s still dark out.

4:18am

Well you might as well be productive if your not gonna get anymore sleep. You changed into your running gear and headed down stairs. You went out the back door, careful not to make any noise.

You’ve never been crazy about Washington’s rainy weather, but you’ve always loved how green it makes everything. It’s beautiful.

You still couldn’t see much as you ran, but you knew the terrain pretty- you tripped over a tree root sending you flying to the ground. Hard. Your body hurt, but your arm felt like it was on fire. You looked down to see your whole arm drenched in blood. It landed on a rock and left behind a fairly sized, deep cut. That’ll leave a scar. You’re almost to where you want to go, so you might as well keep going and clean it when you get back. By now you’d been running a long while and your legs were starting to hurt. You probably should have brought some water too. Whenever you went for a run in the woods you’d always end up at the same place, about three or four miles away was this huge rock formation. You and Sam found it when you were kids. When you weren’t at school or each others houses, you’d find us here. We even built a tree house not far fro-

-Snap

You immediately stopped. The sun was starting to come up, your watch read 5:46am. You turned around slowly looking for the source. Nothing. Even so, you felt as if you were being watched. You began backing up only to hit something, forcing a loud scream out. You turned quickly to find Embry shirtless.

“You shouldn’t be out here right now,” he said in a not-Embry type of way, “head back to the house.” He kept looking around behind you, like he was searching for something, or someone. A shiver went down your spine.

You didn’t answer him, but did as he said. When you got back to the house it was a quarter after seven and you was a mess. You had mud, dirt and leaves all stuck to you. Your arm was hideous and your shirt was blood soaked at this point. You looked like a Texas Chainsaw survivor.

You went and took a shower and cleaned your cut, you just need bandages so you could wrap it. You looked in the bathroom to no avail, so you went to the kitchen only to find Emily up and getting things ready for breakfast.

“Hey Em”

“Hey Y/N, in the mood for-what the hell happened to your arm?” she said in horror.

“Tripped when I went for a run,” You waved it off, “do you have any bandages though?”

She opened up one of the cabinets and brought a roll over. She insisted on wrapping it herself.

“I went out by Sam and I’s old spot and it was weird, I felt like I was being watched,” Emily was watching you carefully, “and then Embry showed up and told me to go home, but he wasn’t really acting like himself. I don’t know It’s probably just the lack of sleep honestly.”

“Did you already have your little accident?” she asked, motioning towards your left arm.

“What do you mean?”

“Were you bleeding?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. It happened pretty early on in my run. I don’t see how that has anything to do with it though” you said confused.

“You shouldn’t be going out to the rock anymore, or in the woods much either. There’s been” she paused. “attacks while you’ve been gone, lots of them. You could have died, especially with all that blood on your arm” she said seriously.

“Like murders?”

“No. No human could have done it” she said cryptically.

By then, she was done wrapping your arm and you went and sat at the bench while she cooked breakfast, but you just couldn’t get what she said off your mind.

“No. No human could have done it”

It felt worded in a way where it definitely wasn’t a person, but you had a feeling it wasn’t an animal either.

__________________________________________

Part 4

A/N: Hope you guys liked this chapter, I’ll try and make the next one longer. Love you guys!

Tagged people:

@sugar-fandom-ass

#twilight saga #twilight #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote #wolf pack #new moon #eclispe #breaking dawn #breaking dawn part 2 #embry call #witchywrter

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selfcareparker · 6 years ago

Note

Okay I just read "Nudes" and "Friends" and omh I'm obsessed with you lol I'm gonna binge your writing tonight for sure. Also, two questions: if I sent you my writing would you read it? Obviously you can say no as I don't want to burden you with anything. Also, how does one got their writing noticed on here? I've never really posted anything so this is all new to me lol.

Hellooo! First of all thank you thank you thank you, I’m so happy you enjoy my writing! Also, thanks for being so nice about it, anyway, but sure! - I’d love to read your writing! Either tag me when you post or message me privately (although I have no idea how private messages on Tumblr work ssjsk so no guarantees there)

And now on to your second question; firstly let me point out that I’m also kinda new to Tumblr, I posted my first fic on here in September I believe - so I’m sure this won’t be any ground-breaking advice but here is what I’ve learnt so far:

Most importantly: Write what you want to write. Just be creative and post what you want to. My most popular fics are ones that I was honestly passionate about (not to sound dramatic) and not the ones where I was trying to write like anybody else on here. People notice when you’re not being yourself so keep that in mind. Just be you.

Then, formatting, I would say. I know it’s ‘just’ fan-fiction but if you want people to actually read your stuff I’d suggest maybe a gif that attracts attention, put a summary (although I’ve been known struggle with those lol) or else you’ll have to have a seriously good title for people to want to click on it.

Use the ‘read more’ feature, if your fic is longer than maybe 500 words because people won’t want to reblog a huge ass post and you won’t be able to spread your work as much.

The tags are also very important, I do for example Peter Parker x reader, Peter Parker, Spiderman x reader and so on (just look in my #s at the bottom of each fics or any other fic writer’s).

Lastly, just go for it. Just do it, it’s just tumblr. In my experience people are really nice here and there’s nothing to be scared of. As long as it’s fun for you, seriously just post it. And don’t be overly critical of yourself -

You don’t have to be good to start.. you just have to start to be good!!! - Joe Sabah

#there goes your precious time 🙃#but that’s the must useful stuff I could come up with soo good lucj #*luck #good night san francisco

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rainystripe · 8 years ago

Text

{one-shot (?)} ROLL DEEP

pairing: Jughead Jones/Betty Cooper fandom: Riverdale 6773 words Summary/excerpt: “Merry Christmas, jo—y” he mutters to himself after securing a large bite of brownie in his mouth. It’s dark in his room during Christmas, but the darkness fades away as his phone lights up with 5 back to back messages from Betty. It doesn’t take much guessing to wonder what she’s sent.

A greeting of course, and a million colorful emoji.

Jug!

Merry Christmas

or,

Jughead Jones + Netflix and Chill= Betty Cooper?

AO3

Okay, idk where to start LOL. This is inspired by my own dumb text posts and @sweaters-and-crowns inspired me to write this out. I wrote this shit in an entire sitting until my phone was about to die. ANYWAY, a huge, HUGE thank you to @theatreofexpression, @electromagnetic-waves and @rezfaultsmoke for helping me out with this! Honestly, cannot express my gratitude enough <3

I have the option for a possible follow up chapter just in case I go along with it. But lemme know if one of you is interested in collaborating with the second one?!

lastly, Happy Holidays to everyone reading this.

Being alone wasn’t all that bad. Jughead Jones knew that perfectly well. And it’s not that he’s entirely lonely, he has friends and family.

A very spotty family at that, but there’s always a family there for him. And as of late, his choice of family isn’t one by blood in fact, his best friend and his dad are always there for him. Archie and Fred Andrews are always on call for whenever he needs anything. It’s not that Jughead is some type of beggar, because he isn’t, but when he finds that he needs the comforting warmth of familiar faces, good greasy food, and overall good times, the Andrews men are always a good choice.

It’s December 13th in late 2015 when Archie texts Jughead the password to the Netflix account that had recently Fred opened up. The red haired teen has done nothing but gush about how ‘epic’ and ‘fucking awesome’ the application was and at first Jughead doesn’t understand the hype. He’s heard of it, yeah— who hasn’t? The ads are everywhere and so are the stupid memes. Jughead also didn’t understand why he would need an online theater since there was a perfectly working on through the Bijou and the Twilight. The later of while held glorious tin encased reels from years past. Nothing could compare to the original format of film, but alas, Jughead was born in a different era: the Digital Age.

“Netflix and Chill”

Just hearing Archie talk about the popular term makes the blue eyed teen grimace as he stuffs a chip into his mouth. Archie has been on a quest to ‘get some girls’ and as far as Jughead knew, no one was biting. He does however, know what the entirety of the football team have been ‘getting some fine ass pussy’ (according to Chuck Clayton) as of late, and the not-subtle locker confessions are always accompanied by the Netflix and Chill combo. He doesn’t quite get what the fuss is all about nor does he care. But one thing is for sure, and that is that Jughead Jones doesn’t want to “chill” with a girl while he could be watching a movie on his own.

Unless that girl was blonde, green eyed and super into movies as he was. Elizabeth Cooper was the only girl that he'd hang out with and that was law. No one else could sit with him through a movie, not even his kid sister Jellybean, as she’d talk through the entire selection of his choice and whine about his top choice films for being ‘boring’. Archie was something else, maybe he’d reconsider the ginger if he’d stop falling asleep during Inglourious Basterds. So, Betty was the perfect candidate for watching a movie or t.v series with.

There’s a strange occurrence one day when they all sit for lunch one day, the blonde plops down and immediately dips her head down to ask them something. They’re outside in the blistering cold and Archie is seated next to her while Jughead sits across from the pair. It’s a normal lunch break until Betty asks what the meaning to ‘chilling with Netflix...or whatever’ meant.

The redhead next to her strings loudly at the wooden guitar while Jughead swears the apple juice he’s just been drinking might’ve gone up his nose. Their reactions only cause Betty’s authoritative gaze to inquire for more information and in typical Cooper fashion, the look demands answers.

“Uh, w-why do you ask, Betts?” Jughead doesn’t mean to stutter, but he does and he doesn’t know why.

Betty blinks and a blonde brow shoots up “Because... Reggie just asked me if I wanted to ‘chill and netflix’ with him.” Her fingers raise to quote her own words, confusion evident on her face. “And then his goonies started to laugh!” She huffs and purses her lips.

Both Archie and Jughead share a knowing look, one of pity from Jughead and the other of awkwardness from his best friend. While Betty picks and tears at the plastic wrapped around her straw, she mumbles in annoyance, distaste as clear as day on her face.

“Ugh. What does that mean?” she mumbles.

Archie’s chocolate eyes urge Jughead’s own icy ones and vice versa. There’s a tiny tug and pull to see who will let Betty in on the dumb trend, and Jughead finally sighs. It always felt weird to talk about anything dirty or suggestive to wholesome Betty Cooper.

“Err— well, Betty…” when he finally starts, her ears perk up and all of her attention is on the beanie clad boy. The curious look and doe eyes make him gulp.

Why did he suddenly feel bad?

“Reggie is being a dumbo as per usual, so don’t listen to anything that leaves his Colgate mouth. But, if you must know…”

The explaining happens and by the end, Betty is fuming in disgust. Archie plants a comforting hand on her back and Jughead offers up the apple on his tray that he never eats as a condolence, one which Betty gratefully pockets for her walk back home after school.

That night, when he’s lounging in tiny space of his living room, his phone rings. Homework has been finished and his backpack was ready for the next class day. Jughead was fresh out the shower and attempting to write on his laptop when the password is texted to him. He stares at his phone for a good minute and ponders if his slow internet would even entice him to download the app on the older computer. It’s not until another text comes through a few minutes later that Archie reminds him of the web browser alternative that he finally gives in and signs into the page.

Writing was sort of boring and the trailer was actually warm for once thanks to the ancient heater that rumbled to life after kicking it in frustration that cold morning. Jughead turns off the light next to him by the couch, allowing darkness to engulf the tiny trailer. The website is simple enough and he realizes that one account already has been set to be his. He snorts and smiles and proceeds to click on the lazy looking image. He doesn’t know where to start; there is an overwhelming amount of content that’s plastered on the main page.

Mean Girls, The Walking Dead, Pocahontas even. Everything is new and flashy and none of it catches his attention and after scrolling for what felt like forever, a recommendation that he recognizes greets him: Rebel Without A Cause.

“Huh, not bad Netflix, not bad at all.” He mutters.

Jughead watches the entirety of the movie and then he’s watches another, and another. He watches a total of four classic films before his eyes close on him. The laptop eventually goes to sleep and Jughead has a strange dream where he’s the main character in a noir inspired film and Betty is a spy that’s out to get him.

—

Surprisingly enough, Netflix becomes a normal part of Jughead’s daily routine. He often finds himself watching The Twilight Zone while getting ready for school. Other times, he’s sitting on the small two person table in the corner of the kitchen while blowing on the instant ramen that he's made for dinner as Nightmare on Elm Street blares through the speakers of his laptop.

He won’t admit it to anyone because he’s not one to admit to anything, but Jughead finds himself literally chilling while watching Netflix. So maybe the concept of an online Blockbuster isn’t all that bad.

The days go on, and when Christmas break finally arrives, a selection of Christmas themed movies filter through his recommended list. Most of the films that have been selected don’t interest him—sans the original Home Alone (and that one only) so Jughead settles on binging the X-Files and going against the holiday mood that the year has bestowed on the entire planet.

“Santa, kiss my ass. Hello, aliens.”

On Christmas Eve, the trio of friends spend a few hours of the afternoon at Pop’s. Betty and Archie bring gifts and spoil Jughead. While he doesn’t have any gifts to give due to his nonexistent cash flow, he does manage to scavenge enough money from under the couch and the inside of his father's truck to pay for two milkshakes.

“Aww, you didn’t have to, Juggie!” críes Betty, but the look in her eyes say otherwise. If there was a way to describe the word ‘mouthwatering’ it would be the way her jade eyes gloss over with glee at the sight of her favorite treat being placed in front of her. Beside’s, milkshakes usually mark the end of their usual meal, so it was tradition anyway.

“It’s fine, Betty. Trust me. Just enjoy it, please.” The burning embarrassment that’s filling his belly makes him squirm at his version of a gift, but alas, his friends don’t seem to care about the quality or price tag.

“Okay.” Betty pouts back, but she cracks not a second after when her finger dips to scoop up the whipped cream topping the strawberry milkshake. The shy smile on her face makes him smile in return and before he can even register what he’s doing, the maraschino cherry from Betty’s treat is being plucked away from its creamy resting place.

“Jug!” she gasps in mild horror.

A sheepish grin breaks out on Jughead after popping the cherry into his mouth.

In the end, Archie offers his which Betty gratefully accepts and chews on while glaring at the dark haired boy sitting across from her.

Betty’s gift is a new cotton sweater in a cool grey, there’s no hoodie or zipper to it, and while it’s not his usual style, it’s very comfortable and warms him up faster than the broken heater. She’s also gifts him with the annual batch of brownies prepared by her mother, ones which he looked forward to every year. The sinful double chocolate chip fudge brownies were the epitome of heaven on earth that Alice Cooper somehow made every year. It was a treat that contradicts her usual strict style of dieting and control of food for her family, but he had no complains about the brownies, and he never will— unless she changes up the recipe to be skinny. His other gift is a 40 dollar gift card to Pops which Archie swears was the best gift ever since he will be able to reload it whenever he wanted to. A suggestion which Archie throws at him that includes the pink card being reloaded by him for his birthday and the following Christmas.

He’s grateful, he really is. Money is a problem, Jughead grew up with minimal money in his life. Being poor and broke and living off used things was the norm for him. He was still too young to find a job and while his father does provide here and there (albeit rarely being home) Jughead manages.

He always manages.

The internet that runs throughout Sunnyside is a shared connection routing through one main trailer where a guy manages to get illegal access to. It’s not the fastest or the best as every trailer uses the line, but it works fine for him when he’s nestles in bed at night. Being a night owl had its perks, no one was awake when he was, which meant that the internet was free of all the traffic that usually slows it down during the day.

Midnight arrives like any other night. There’s a distant crack in the air, fireworks most likely.

“Merry Christmas, jo—y” he mutters to himself after securing a large bite of brownie in his mouth. It’s dark in his room during Christmas, but the darkness fades away as his phone lights up with 5 back to back messages from Betty. It doesn’t take much guessing to wonder what she’s sent.

A greeting of course, and a million colorful emoji.

Jug!

Merry

Christmas

followed by a plethora of green Christmas trees and pink hearts (oddly enough) a few reindeer, presents, bows and confetti. All which she flawlessly executes with the dramatic background effect on the messaging app which lights up with animated fireworks.

“Geez, Betty. An enigma you are.” He reckons out loud before replying with his own simple greeting.

Merry Christmas, Betty. followed by a plain thumbs up.

—

Exactly two years later, 2016 Jughead Jones would have actually laughed in the face of his present self when told that he was in a romantic relationship. A romantic relationship with a girl, not a stranger, but Elizabeth Cooper.

Jughead was sure that love wasn’t for him. Love and affection had screwed him over since the day he was conceived. His father, FP Jones was a recovering alcoholic now, but he he used to be a poor father. A gang leader, drug dealer with major issues. Gladys Jones— his mother, who knows where the hell she’d fucked off to. She claims to be in Toledo with his grandparents and younger sister Jellybean, but who knows really.

Life had gotten complex during the summer of 2017. A local golden boy had been murdered and the mystery of who did it had somehow brought Betty and himself closer together, so close in fact that Jughead realized that his feelings for her were much farther from friendly.

They had their ups and downs as any couple does. At some point he was sure that they just couldn’t work out. It was as if the universe and his cursed destiny tried to pry him from anything good in his life, but he should have known Betty.

Boy, should he have, especially when dealing with Betty and her world famous stubbornness.

Her fight and reassurance kicks him in the face, planting firmly the idea that he controls his own path and destiny. So, ever since their last breakup back during Halloween, things have been well for the young couple. So well in fact that he was sure he was permanently high.

High off Betty Cooper.

A delicious high, one which he couldn’t get enough of. Her scent, her skin, eyes nose and lips, every bit of Betty was a craving that he woke up to every morning. Jughead was still somewhat shy and awkward around her, that was who he was in personality. He wasn’t some stud who walked around oozing sex appeal and constantly grabbing his girlfriends ass while out in public. Far from it.

Behind closed doors and in the comfort of certain places, both teens found solace in each other’s arms. A comfort and warm that could brave anything the outside world brought to them. No attempt at joining his father's ex-gang could break them. Alice Cooper’s demands to leave FP’s son in Southside went on deaf ears.

Jughead muttered words of love to Betty.

“I love you...I love you.”

She’d watched in surprise at his confession, one which filled her with so much joy that she found the words to mutter them back with tears looking at her jade eyes as she inched closer with a heart crushing smile on her face.

“Jughead Jones, I love you.”

Betty was a part of him then and an even more important one now.

The warm scent of coconut wafts up his nostrils. It’s Christmas again, and this year Betty is spending it with him in the dinky trailer. It’s cold inside and neither teen have bothered to separate from each other to run out and grab the portable heater that Betty had brought along.

Betty’s lips are on his, working through a wet frenzy that makes his stomach clench in need. Their kiss is sloppy to say the least. Long have the brownies been forgotten. The fresh sweets where the reason as to why she was with him in the first place, having begged Alice to let her take the car to drop them off. Even though it was midnight now, Betty had perfectly mapped out when to ask and leave the house.

“Mm—Betty, your mom—“ Jughead muttered between kisses.

“—is asleep” she replied around a mouthful full of tongue. Feverish kisses filled the air of the cramped trailer, their mouths digging deeper into one another. Betty whimpered at the feel of Jughead’s tongue curling against her own, her hands coming down to keep her steady against the edges of the couch.

“You sure?”

“Positive, now shut up and kiss me.” She smiled into his lips. The blue eyed boy eyes crinkled in response, a mischievous smile creeping tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“If you say so.” He finished before attacking her moist lips once more. Teeth came in contact and wet sounds filled the air. The short gasps of air warmed up their faces as they continued to kiss until Betty was resting her back against the worn out cushions of the couch.

This Christmas was already starting off with a literal bang and Jughead had never been so excited for any holiday in his life.

Nimble fingers slip into midnight curls, tugging Jughead closer into her mouth. The same fingers feel good against his scalp which send a delicious sensation down his spine and across his entire body. He’s positioned himself above the blonde, making sure not to crush her by hoisting his body up by one knee in between her legs while the other hangs off the couch. Betty’s legs however, are a different story. The couch was far too small and they were both too tall. One of Betty’s legs is propped up against the headrest of the couch while the other struggles to stay curled around his hanging leg. Gravity doesn’t help and her leg is constantly dragging down before she hoists it back up into place.

Betty notes the taste on his lips and tongue, it’s sweet from the brownies and strong from the coffee he’d downed earlier. The taste is delicious and she can’t get enough and makes sure to let it be known when she curls her tongue against his own, sucking on it lightly. The action causes the deep rumble of his moan to rip through the deepest reaches of his body. It strikes her as super sexy and she moans back.

Jughead latches onto her bottom lip, knipping it softly before plucking it. Her cherry lips are engorged and plump, screaming in a lovely tint that only beckons him to return. Her chest is heaving and his hand reaches out to lift the peach colored top from her body. The tiniest brush against her skin burns him and suddenly the room is no longer freezing, but scalding hot.

Sucking in a ragged breath, Betty manages to lift the top half of her body and arms to remove her sweater, leaving her in a flower patterned lace bra. The laptop screen is still bright in front of them. Home Alone is playing in the background and the hotel scene manages to accentuate the lighting around Betty.

Jughead swallows at the mere sight of Betty’s glowing honey eyes under the effect of the screen. A sheen of gloss on her lips blinds him and he wants nothing more than to kiss her again.

He’s about to lean down when she stops with him with a warm hand on his chest.

Her usually alert eyes are blown wide and lust envelops the usually sweet girl. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth and Jughead feels his mouth go dry.

Betty is stunning.

The swell of her breasts calls to him and he can’t get close. The periwinkle tinted bra is tight against her skin and he wonders if he can free her from it soon. Betty, however has other plans. She shoots him a shy look and avoids eye contact and she wiggles out of her skirt.

“Betty?” He whispers. Why? He doesn’t know. It’s not like there’s someone else in the trailer.

When the fabric reaches her knees, Jughead takes it as a signal to move back and give her space to watch her as she lifts her long legs in the air to dispose of the wine colored skirt.

It’s a sight, and wonderful one at that. Long creamy legs, supple thighs and matching set of underwear greet him and blue eyes watch intently as Betty bends both knees in front of her stomach. Her pink sneakers dangle in front if him as her arms reach for her knees, hugging them close to her chest. A teasing smile causes his boxers to feel tighter. Blood pumps down south and Jughead groans. The only time that he chooses to wear boxers briefs too. The strain is stifling and he feels the urge to get naked then and there.

“Betts…” He sighs in desperation. He doesn’t know why she’s huddled up or why she’s smiling at him him like that, but damn does she looks good enough to eat.

“Jug…” she copies. Her hands move from cupping her knees to roaming down her legs all while keeping her knees close. It’s a movement that baby blue eyes never stray away from.

Jughead’s eyes widen slightly, urging her on. “Yeah?”

Suddenly she’s nervous, very nervous. There’s something that she’s been wanting for a few days now, a repeat of what they first tried a week prior. An experiment that involved Jughead’s mouth. It’s hunted her, the thought and memories combined with feelings causing arousal to pool in between her legs.

She can’t help wanting to stop their act to get a dose of his mouth on her nether region, but the need is incredibly strong and her panties only become wetter by the second.

“I want you...here.” Her legs part slightly, allowing enough space for her arm to budge through her thigh to cover her sex through her underwear. Betty gulps in anticipation, wondering if Jughead will say no and if she’s ruined the moment with her request.

Their sexual history was tame, wild missionary sex with the occasional ass in the air for Betty as Jughead pounds at her from behind. Sex was new, and they’d only been experimenting for a few weeks, so introducing something new was always nerve wracking. Betty remembers how shy he’d been when she had stuffed her hand into his jeans two nights after their loss of virginity. A day after that Jughead rubbed her into an orgasm over her panties while waiting for school to start. Even then, they’d both fumbled during the entire process. A series of apologies littered the entire thing consummation.

They were wet behind the ears, yes, but that didn’t stop two hormonal teenagers from lusting after each other. Two weeks prior, Jughead managed to gather his thoughts and went down on Betty for the first time, earning him a wet nose and chin with a thigh crushing orgasm against his head from Betty all while doing it on her childhood bed. It must have been good enough to want her to ask for seconds, because his heart has leapt at her sudden request.

“Oh.” He said lightly.

Noticing his response not being as enthusiastic as she’d imagined it be, Betty’s legs slowly drop back down, embarrassment engulfing her. Again, her heart quickens and a dull ring is the only thing that she can properly register. Quickly, she moves to sit up, green eyes avoiding his. The shame in her face is obvious and Betty feels stupid for ruining the moment.

Why couldn’t she have just let nature take its course without having to interrupt it for her own selfish needs?

“You know, never mind.” A nervous laugh escapes her and Betty is moving to sit up but Jughead stops her. The boy moves in closer to her, and her legs are nudged apart. Her heart slams against her chest and Betty is blinking up at Jughead in surprise.

“It’s okay, Betty. I’ll do it...you don’t have to ask.” He adds shyly. His eyes wander to hers, locking together that it becomes hard to look away.

It was surprising that she’s asked him to repeat the act. The first time was sloppy and not how he’d imagine it to be, but he had managed to make her come and since it was never brought up again until now, Jughead had guessed she didn’t like it.

But now, his member was growing stiffer against his boxers the longer that he thought about tasting Betty again.

“Oh, I just…” her green eyes also wander off with an equally awkward look on her face, but her focus moves to his pajama pants where a bulge was beginning to form. The red in her cheeks is adorable and Jughead suddenly leans down to kiss her, catching her off guard. Betty gasps into the kiss, opening her mouth wider for Jughead’s tongue to invade every inch. The kiss gets heated, and Jughead body pushes down against her own, making Betty lay down once again.

As they kiss, Jughead inhales deeply, enjoying the mewls that escaped Betty when taking her leg to prop back up against the headrest. His hand trails down from her knee, down the smooth skin of her inner thigh.

The continue to kiss with Betty breaking contact to shuffle closer down towards his knee, spreading her legs even wider in the process by hooking an arm under her other leg. Kisses are placed against his jaw and down the exposed skin of his neck. It’s only when her nose nuzzles his sweater does he realize that he’s still fully clothed.

Jughead shrugs off the material in a hurry, his hair becoming a mess of curls jutting in every direction, a look which makes Betty bite at the corner of her bottom lip.

He looks delicious.

Shirtless, with wild hair and a trail of dark hair that disappears into his pajama pants. Jughead makes Betty’s clit throb in need, so much so that her hand leaves her leg to cup her center instead. The fabric is moist to the touch and Betty gasps at how sensitive she feels at the simplest of pressure.

“Juggie…”

Jughead’s stormy eyes shine black under the light of the laptop screen, the shadows cast complex shadows on Jughead’s body which cause Betty to lick at her lips when trailing her eyes down his exposed chest and hips. The black band of his boxers pokes through the blue hues of the plaid pattern of his bottoms. The dip in his hips is sharp and balances out the smooth taut skin of his abdomen while his arms fill out with a strong bulk of muscle that works for his body type: not too much but enough to make her mouth water.

“Lay back Betty.”

And she does, head coming in contact with the wood skeleton of the ancient armrest. The butterflies in her stomach suddenly burst into a flurry of excitement that make her suck in a breath of anticipation. Both of her hands come to lay on her stomach, her chest rising and falling at an alarming rate.

“I’m gonna go down on you, okay?” It's not until Jughead moves slightly that Betty ss able to see how deep his eyes have darkened, the pupils of his eyes gone pitch black with a single ring of blue circling the iris. The look alone cause her walls to pulse on their own and Betty nods.

“Okay.”

The movie is long forgotten and the brownies are as cold by then. Jughead finds a spot on his stomach to lay on, its cramped on the couch. It’s one of the time where he wishes he could move them to the bed, but all that walking would ruin some of the mood.

When he’s nestled in front Betty’s spread legs, her arousal become more evident. There’s a dark patch on her panties and the fabric sticks to her folds like a second skin.

“Jug…”

He glances up at Betty, who’d eventually moved up a bit to give him space. Her blonde head now rests on the armrest, one leg still up on the head rest while the other is dangled off his couch. Betty’s green eyes were dark and glazed over in need, both her hands fisted at her hips.

“Sorry, babe.” Her arousal was strong, enticing and doing things to him. Jughead’s hand move to hover above her panty before hooking a finger right over the soaked spot to push the material to the side, exposing Betty to the cool air. She shudders at the exposure and shifts slightly. It’s still somewhat embarrassing to be so exposed, but Jughead boosts a confidence in her that she was sure she didn’t have before and she loves it.

Gulping at the sight, Jughead inches closer to Betty, the elegant slit, moist and beckoning for attention.

“You know, somehow this is better than those brownies.” He muses, smirking.

Betty’s cheeks flame up at the comment and her legs move to close before he’s reaching up to push them apart.

She’s embarrassed and rightfully so, they both have yet to stare openly at each other so intimately.

“Please” She whispers. “I want this.” Betty whines and bucks her hips, rolling them in want. The blonde patch of hair above her pink folds is always a sight to behold. It’s cute and suits her and while he didn’t understand her need to trim, Jughead decides that it is very Betty like to have and quite frankly, he doesn’t care how she looks like down there.

His fingers brush over the tougher hair, tugging at it slightly before running them down her moist lips. And in one swoop, his face is burying down on to her warm core.

Nose deep, Jughead sucks in the air around him, slowing down to breath while indulging in Betty. A shudder rips through her body and she shakes beneath him with a moan so loud that it alarms even herself. Immediately, her hands reach to grab onto anything. And Betty finds her nails digging into the back of the armrest and the cushion beneath her. Her body arches, hips rolling into her boyfriends mouth while her body twists in pleasure. The shaking never stops and Betty knows she isn’t cold.

“Ah—“ she cries out. Jughead closes his eyes, his tongue rolling up and down Betty’s folds, making sure to stop on her clit to rub circles on the bundle of nerves. She’s shaking and he smirks into her skin.

Her body hasn’t been stimulated like that, with a ravenous mouth. As it stands, the young couple are novices who only have missionary (for the most part.) sex. So, having Jughead delicately grind his soft tongue against her aching clit sends her over the moon and Betty finds that her body won’t stop shaking from excitement.

The taste is something he can’t describe. It’s unlike anything he’s tasted before, but he likes it. It’s Betty and he’s causing her to release her juices. A boost of confidence washes over him and his mouth continues to work harder. Jughead’s dark head swivels against Betty, and she blushes when she catches a glimpse of his work.

Up, down, side to side, his tongue laps through pink folds. He even comes in contact with her entrance, teasing it with a few light probes which cause her to gasp and scramble to sit up on her elbows. He’s doing something right and he continues to pleasure Betty even more.

“Ooh, like that, Juggie...oh.” Betty moans, watching Jughead’s dark head go to work on her. The view is intoxicating and it’s hard to register that the act is happening to her. The sight is in fact her underwear, her patch of blonde, all which bluntly remind her that Jughead Jones is buried nose deep in her pussy.

She tosses her head back in ecstasy the moment the sucking on her engorged clit becomes too much. The pleasure is tingling and her body is on fire. Betty’s blonde tresses have long been let loose and she runs her fingers through her hair, gripping at the scalp to control the moans that she’s too embarrassed to release and Jughead takes notice.

The sucking become quicker, matching his beating heart, a rapid motion that causes Betty to gasp loudly. Her green eyes snap down to stare at him in awe, pink lips parted. Tiny moans and ‘yes, yes’ invade his body urging him on.

The sucking become sloppy, and Jughead returns to licking her wildly while Betty grinds her sex against his mouth. Her cries are starting to become louder, the filter slowly disappearing.

“That’s it, no need to hold it in.” He pauses to urge her on. He wants to hear Betty, he wants to hear and see how badly she wants him. The strain in his boxers is unbearable and at some point Jughead finds his own hips grinding into the corners of the cushion to release some friction. The gyration against his hips against the cushion only urges him on and before both know it, his mouth back on Betty. Jughead’s hunger is amplified by the use of his tongue on Betty.

“Oh fuck—“ the sob that tears through the living room makes Jughead stop his actions. The sight of Betty riding through her orgasm is indescribable. Like an flower bud finally unraveling and blossoming, Betty is a literal description of the act. Betty gasps, her breath hitching as her body shakes and her hips snap in front of him three times. Tiny grunts explode from her shaking body and the sounds make Jughead shudder.

The scene is erotic and beautiful, better than any scene in any movie.

“Wow.” Breaths Jughead after she’s landed back down. The shaking has minimized but her thighs still twitch against the sides of his arms. Betty pushes up against the corner of the couch with a finger trapped in her teeth. Her blonde locks are a mess and cover her eyes but to Jughead, it as the sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

The tired smile that Betty manages blows the air right out of him.

“God, Betty. That was...stunning.” He breathes, leaning over to her and brushing the golden strands away from her face.

“Mm, you’re so good at that, Jug.” She croaks, her voice light as she struggled to catch her breath. Somehow, Betty finds the will to smirk seductively at him. Jughead groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Again, all Betty can manage to do is groan and tug him down for a kiss.

“I love you, Juggie. I love you so much.” Her declaration make his heart swell, as well as his cock. He’s sure that she’s sucking on his lower lip to taste herself, and it’s made more obvious when she laps at the bottom of his lip.

“Thank you.” She’s still shaking and her stomach continues to jerk against her will and Jughead notices when his hand brushes her navel.

And Betty can taste herself, she can also smell herself which makes her stomach coil in need. She has had a mind blowing orgasm, and she wanted more. But she was sure that she couldn’t go through another one so soon, but she finds Jughead’s hand and leads his fingers to her sensitive folds.

“You did that.” Betty whispers hotly against his ears.

Jughead sucks in a breath and nods, his voice lowering. “I did…”

“Mm.”

The silent foreplay continues and Jughead doesn’t move from his position right above Betty. He continues to rub lazily along her even slicker folds which cause her to gasp and buck her hips. Jughead loves the result that he’s caused. When he comes in contact with her swollen clit, Betty jerks and immediately grabs him by the wrists and shoots him a shy look.

“I don’t think I can do another one just yet.” Biting her lip, Betty blinks up at him and Jughead nods, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Jughead freezes, silently cursing for kissing her there right after where he’s mouth has been. Betty seems to notice and giggles.

“It’s okay, Jug. I’ll take a shower as soon as I get home...which I should be doing right about--“ when reaching for her phone on the coffee table, the blonde just about shoots up a foot high.

“Ohmygod.”

“Ohmygod, Jug. I gotta go! My mom's going to kill me!” Like a hurricane, Betty sprints from the couch only stopping to fix her underwear before she’s slipping the crumpled skirt back over her legs and Jughead frowns.

Really?

As confused as he is, he still manages to move out of her way. What time was it anyway? She’s been over for what? Two hours? Also, Betty had been positive that her mother would be knocked out by now.

“Betty, I’m sure your mom won’t notice—“ Betty interrupts him as soon as he starts by shoving her phone in his face. It’s 3:24 am and there are three missed calls and a text: all from ‘Momster’

“Oh shit. Betty.” Jughead’s eyes had gone wide and he moves to help her move along. He guesses that he can live with blue balls than face the wrath of Alice Cooper. After all, he can always get access to Betty when he wants to and if he asks nicely. But for now, he’s helping her by throwing the red scarf over her shoulder and wrapping it as best as he can while she retires her hair.

“She’s going to murder me. When did it become 3?” The panic is evident and he feels bad for her. If he could, he would show up to doorstep and take the verbal beating instead.

“Better yet, why is she still up?” Jughead muses. Betty stops and wonders, but shakes her head after a moment. Time was precious and Alice Cooper did not wait. Taking her bag from the single seat, she leans in and plants a kiss on his lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t...help you out.”

Both teens move to look at his crotch and Jughead coughs. Turning at an angle to avoid the attention that his erection was receiving. It's not as bad as it was earlier, all the Alice talk ruining the mood in the end.

“It’s fine. No need to worry about me, Betts.”

Betty shoots him a sad smile, she really does feel bad. She wanted more but they had no time. So instead she makes a promise. Jughead blinks when Betty steps closer, her warm breath, ghosting over his ear.

“I’ll make it up to you. Think of it as part two to your present?” His body shudders with excitement at the thought. His body also freezes at the hand that squeezes at his cock through the thin material of his pajama bottoms.

“Be—“

Betty Cooper winks and waves before she’s out the door and running towards the station wagon parked in front of the trailer. Jughead stands there for a split second before rushing to the door, watching as the head beams light up the makeshift driveway and as Betty pulls out. She manages a wave through the window and he returns it. The station wagon peels out of Sunnyside Park, driving off into the distance.

Once she’s gone, Jughead takes a quick shower and drops into the bed in a heap of sexual frustration. He’d tried to help himself out under the cool water that the trailer managed to pump out, but he didn’t get far. A hand did not compare to Betty’s hands and lips. He can’t help the lingering arousal but the night had been fun and it turned out different than what he expected. It’s a Christmas completely different to the previous ones before and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he’s nestled into the warm sheets, his phone lights up.

A message from Betty.

Netflix and Chill? My house 6:40 sharp. Parents are visiting Polly.

He snorts at the term, the same term which he now remembers caused Betty to make the stinkiest face he’s ever seen. It’s not something he’d like back then, but he’s suddenly very grateful for Archie talking so much about the app that it somehow brought Betty and Jughead together for Christmas.

And besides, it’s not like they’ll be watching anything. There has to be something to distract them to set the mood. Who really watches a movie when they have a significant other anymore?

Netflix and Chill? You bet.

The phone clicks as it’s turned off and Jughead grins in the darkness, excited for the next couple of hours.

—-

merry chrystler, murry curr’mas!!

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #mari writes #fanfiction #riverdale fanfiction

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davidcbrighton · 7 years ago

Note

hi, do you have any good molliarty fic recs? :)

Of course! Below are some of my personal favorites. Also, you should definitely check out @whyimmathere‘s recent Molliarty post. It’s got lots of fics and the links at the bottom lead to her huge personal collection of Molliarty stories scoured from the internet. It’s a fantastic resource for any Molliarty reader and I’m very grateful for her dedication to this ship.

In no particular order:

Say Something Ordinary by TheWormThatTurns

Chapters: 6/6Words: 5485Rating: Teen And Up AudiencesWarnings: No Archive Warnings ApplyRelationships: Irene Adler/Molly Hooper, Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty, Molly Hooper/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Molly Hooper, Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper

Additional Tags: Happy Ending, Unhappy Ending, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Alternate Universe

Summary:

Soul mates exist. They know one another, if they meet, by the words on their flesh. The first words they will speak to one another. Molly Hooper is one person amongst millions, if not billions, born with a banal remark on her skin. True love is hard to find. AU. f/f & f/m, mostly the latter.

The Molliarty in this story is only one chapter, but I enjoyed the whole piece very much. It even has a bit of Jim POV!

Daddy by the sublime mime

Chapters: 1/1Words: 643Rating: TSummary: “Let’s play our favorite game.” Jim says. “Let’s play pretend.” -a little dribble, in which Jim is very alive and very angry with our favorite pathologist-

A shortie, but I liked it. Bit of violence in this.

I love you as I love… by CalicoKitten

Chapters: 1/1Words: 3584Fandom: Sherlock (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip PullmanRating: Not RatedWarnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsRelationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Molly Hooper/Jim MoriartyCharacters: Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft HolmesAdditional Tags: Alternate Universe - Daemon, Daemons, Molly is a BAMF, she’s also not as innocent as everyone thinks, Unhealthy Relationships, Death ReferencesSummary:

Molly knows Jim Doyle (because that’s how he introduces himself, hands sweating and shaky, stuttering in the cafeteria) is bad news as soon as she sees his daemon grin.

That doesn’t put her off him. If anything it makes her say yes all the more quickly.

Fantastic story that makes good use of both source canons and also mythology. Knowledge of His Dark Materials is not necessary. There are a few grammar/word usage errors but don’t let that put you off—the story is so enjoyable it doesn’t matter. I’ve read it many times.

I O U by retorica

Chapters: 8/?Words: 20761Rating: MatureWarnings: Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceRelationships: Molly Hooper/Jim MoriartyCharacters: Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, Eurus Holmes, Sebastian Moran

Additional Tags: Psychopath in Love, Loss of Innocence, Molly is his queen, molliarty - Freeform

Summary:

“Are you in love, Jim? Has sentiment overcome your faculties?” (4x03 flashback compliant)

This story. It’s a WIP. Slow to update but so, so good. It’s sort of set in canon? Canon-themed, maybe? I’m not sure how to describe it, honestly, but retorica really amps it up here. Beautifully written and the author shows zero fear of taking turns with the plot.

What Sober Couldn’t Say by ribcage

Chapters: 1/1Words: 4603Rating: Not RatedWarnings: No Archive Warnings ApplyRelationships: Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty, Molly Hooper/James MoriartyCharacters: Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, Toby the Cat (Sherlock)Additional Tags: Drunk Texting, Texting, Happy Ending, molliarty - Freeform, Inspired By Tumblr

Summary:

“(11:23 pm) Drinking again

(11:24 pm) And since it makes me too sad to go on my blog anymore thanks to you, I figured it’s only fair you become my new place to vent

(11:25 pm) You’re probably not receiving these messages anyway so no harm no foul

(11:25 pm) Right?”

Molly drunk-texts Jim over the course of several months.

They say that nuance is lost over text, but Molly’s pain is very palpable here. A large part of this story is comprised of text messages, but the author writes well and the medium works here. Bit of a happy ending. Love this one!

Junior by ll_again

Chapters: 1/1Words: 1907Rating: Teen And Up AudiencesWarnings: No Archive Warnings ApplyRelationships: Molly Hooper/Jim MoriartyCharacters: Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, Toby the Cat (Sherlock)Additional Tags: Jim is a cat person, Post-Episode: s01e03 The Great GameSummary:

So what��s a beleaguered pathologist to do when the UK’s Most Wanted turns up to visit her cat?

Lovely writing and ll_again just portrays Jim and Molly so beautifully. This one is a little more lighthearted than some of the other stories here. If you like sexual tension and humor, you’ll love this. It’s great!

A Bedtime Story for a Madman and a Queen by sillythings

Chapters: 5/5Words: 17411Rating: T

Summary: Moriarty stops by to tell Molly a bedtime story.

This might be my favorite of all time. Hauntingly beautiful. The author’s portrayal of Jim is so good it’s stunning. The storytelling here is masterful, and spins stories within stories. It’s dark and loving and just wonderful. Strong Sherlolly theme in this one.

Power in Potentia by sovery

Chapters: 1/1Words: 1268Rating: Teen And Up AudiencesWarnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsRelationships: Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty, Molly Hooper & Jim MoriartyCharacters: Molly Hooper, Jim MoriartyAdditional Tags: feminist reclaimation of the text, Fairy Tale Elements, Vampires, darkish, (it’s all about the ish)

Summary:

Molly does not imagine that this is how Jim expected their confrontation to go.

Bit of formatting issues in this one, but it’s so well-written it’s worth the read. Not exactly a relationship fic, but I loved Molly in this. A good, dark story.

The Fox by Anarfea

Chapters: 1/1Words: 3767Rating: ExplicitWarnings: No Archive Warnings ApplyRelationships: Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes/Jim MoriartyCharacters: Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, Sherlock HolmesAdditional Tags: Missing Scene, Season/Series 02, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex, molliarty - Freeform

Summary:

“Close your eyes and pretend I’m Sherlock Holmes,” he murmured. “I don’t mind.”

Oh, the smut. In character, well-written smut. Fantastic story.

Nameless by Ridiculosity

Chapters: 9/?Words: 37733Rating: MatureWarnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive WarningsRelationships: Molly Hooper/Jim MoriartyCharacters: Jim Moriarty, Molly Hooper, Sherlock HolmesAdditional Tags: Soulmates AU, i… don’t know, Angst, Lots of Angst, Psychopath Moriarty, normal molly, molliarty - Freeform, lemon tarts, this is so trashy

Summary:

The first name was expected - even welcomed. The second, on the other hand, left much to be desired. And Jim would never understand what it was about it that was compelling. [Soulmate AU: On one hand, the name of your soulmate, on the other - your enemy. Molliarty.]

WIP. On the surface this is sort of a funny story. I smiled a lot reading this. On occasion, though, it delves into pathos, and it’s very effective. I like a bit of pain in stories and this delivers. Well-written and enjoyable.

The Rose Point Manor by BookishTea, Roz1013, stbartsmolly

Chapters: 6/?Words: 17923Rating: MatureWarnings: Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceRelationships: Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty, Molly Hooper & Meena, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper, Molly Hooper & Original Female CharacterCharacters: Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Meena (Sherlock), Greg Lestrade, Sebastian Moran, Mike Stamford, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Jim Moriarty’s Mother, Jim Moriarty’s FatherAdditional Tags: Mystery, Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Family, Family Secrets, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Mark Hooper - Freeform, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Love Letters, BAMF Molly, Molly Hooper Appreciation, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, molliarty - Freeform, Possessive Sex, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Behavior, Haunted Houses, Possessive Jim, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Abandonment, Past Child Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Sexual Tension, Murder, Aftermath of Violence, Violence, Minor Sherlock Holmes/Molly HooperSummary:

A young woman struggling in an unjust society takes a break from the theatrics of pretending to be her male counterpart, Mark Hooper, and decides to relax at the quiet but foreboding Rose Point Manor. There she comes to a realization that something far more sinister lurks there than at her morgue back home.

WIP. Still in the early stages but I just love the setup here. Mystery? Paranormal? Epistolary writing? Count me in. Can’t wait to see what’s next.

Quite a few of these authors have multiple stories, so I have linked their profiles too so you can check them out.

#molliarty #fic recs #asks

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tenroseforeverandever · 8 years ago

Text

Dear Father Christmas... Chapter 12: December 24, 2027

MASTERPOST

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: When Charlie makes a new friend, it opens her eyes up to the world around her, and her life is changed forever.

Notes: This was a long one, and along with a bloody awful cold, set me back from my schedule by a few days. I’m trying to make it up and get ahead again, but I fear the time is nigh when I will not be able to post on schedule.

@rose–nebula and mrsbertucci deserve all the hugs. Thanks so much for all your support, ladies.

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. A reminder that I am using the prompts very much out of order, but I intend to use them all. The prompt I used today was Feast.