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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 3 months

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≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : 5+1 trope, pwp (porn with plot), porn with feelings (a. LOT.), poetic descriptions, fluff, with slight angst undertones, references to cards “moment’s respite” “close feelings” “fragment of time” "lightseeking obsession", unrequited but actually requited love, yearning, miscommunication, love confessions, reader is drunk in scene 5, kissing, heavy petting, grinding, fingering, clit play, slight nipple play, multiple orgasms, first time sex (with each other), vaginal sex (raw), needy sex, creampie, praise, dirty talk, use of pet names “angel” “my starlight”. lmk if i missed any tags !! ((slightly unedited))

wc : 13.4k (😭)

an : PHEW OK. i'm going back to my roots guys ... this is LONG, embarRASINGLY LONG but. if you want to skip to the Fun Part, that's in scene 6 (which is like. more than half of the entire thing really) !! also, play the song as you read i promise you won’t regret it <3

taglist : @spotted-salamander @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valvinny [sign up here!] / +tyty @unluckywisher for beta reading a part of this the other day 🥺

AO3 LINK 🔗

Five times he couldn't say “I love you”... And one time he actually did.

—ᴏɴᴇ.

“Do you think Lemonette will finally stop bothering us for a while?”

You stifled a yawn as you walked up to your apartment, Xavier’s own footsteps following not too far behind you. The yellow wanderer had been roaming the city causing trouble, and you thought you’d gotten rather sick of seeing its face around—especially now that it had kept you both awake, the threads of sleep having slipped from you both the instant your watch went off. In that moment, a glance at the time told you that it was well past midnight. The sky surrounding the building was darker than dark, light from neither the moon nor stars enough to bring you out of it, the only comfort being the dim gleam of the hallway lights.

“We gave it a good beating, at least…” came his reply, and you shouldn’t have been so surprised to hear the grogginess present in his voice—as if he hadn’t been a large part of the reason Lemonette was rather… annihilated, for lack of a better word.

You smiled.

“Yeah, and no less thanks to you for it,” you chuckled, stretching as the door to your apartment finally came into view. You realized that you’d never once thought you wanted to be in bed any more than you did in that moment.

A momentary silence fell, and you stood by the doorway, turning around to face him.

Xavier remained still.

He seemed contemplating, scanning over your figure, fingers reaching out tentatively… only to fall back to his sides.

“Xavier?”

The call of your voice prompted a shake of his head, and a hint of embarrassment flashed briefly in his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

It wasn’t nothing.

“You’re not… injured, are you?”

A smile spread on your lips, then.

So he was worried.

“It’s just a scratch,” you shrugged. “You know how it is. Just the usual stuff, I don’t even need first aid for it. It’ll be fine.”

Still, he didn’t move.

“So… Will you be able to sleep okay?”

It was almost comical how he said it, what with how obviously sleepy his own gaze had turned. Eyelids heavy, slow blinks in your direction, as if everything he was doing in that moment was with the intention of conserving as much energy as he could… He was tired. Just as tired as you were. Just as jolted out of his sleep as you had been.

You nodded your head, and reached over to give his shoulder a pat.

“I’ll be okay. Really. Maybe it’s since I’m tired from all of that, but I feel like I could get some pretty good rest! I don’t want to keep bothering you with my sleeping problems, anyway…”

Your eyes met, then.

Xavier’s searched yours, as if trying to ascertain that you weren’t just brushing it off. And this time, he seemed to let impulsivity win—or, whatever it was that made him reach out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

His touch was soft. Gentle. Much like it always was; much like he always was, especially when it came to you. It lingered, the feeling of his skin against your ear, settling to rest by your cheek—and perhaps that was what made it feel more intimate, and soothing, than it otherwise would have been.

You didn’t know it could be so comforting just to look at someone like this.

To share a pause in thought, to enjoy the presence of each other… to have a little bit of your worries melt away the way that they did…

The moment offered more solace than you thought it ever could.

But Xavier tended to have that effect on you.

He always made you feel safe.

“Xavier?” You mumbled, your hand reaching up to rest on his wrist.

“Mh?”

“Um… Thanks. It’s not so bad, even if Lemonette had to bother us tonight. Since… I have you, after all.”

And at that, you watched him smile.

Somehow, the dim lighting around his figure made him appear all the more ethereal than he usually did.

“I think the same,” he nodded.

His hand dropped back to his side, then. His mouth opened and closed for a moment, as if trying to weigh what to say next, before he took a prompt step backwards.

“...Goodnight.”

It was soft, the way he said it. You could have missed it if you weren’t paying attention, and something told you that it wasn’t quite… what he had meant to say.

Still, you smiled.

“Goodnight, Xavier.”

In the end, it wasn’t so bad, like this.

—ᴛᴡᴏ.

How many days was it, now, that you’d found yourself in such a situation?

You stood in his kitchen, hands on your hips, looking at the tray of cookies in front of you. Much to your dismay, they were mostly charred, or otherwise deformed, or otherwise… much too expanded to be considered presentable. Your gaze raised to meet a very expectant one, blue eyes nearly twinkling, and you thought—how could he be so confident?

“Xavier,” you started, and you crossed your arms for emphasis.

It was in an instant that you saw him deflate. If he had ears like a rabbit—a thought you’d had for quite some time now—you were certain they would be folding over his face in near-mortification.

Or guilt, perhaps.

You weren’t quite sure which one it was.

You were sure, however, that it was difficult to scold him properly with the kind of expression he was giving you.

You reached up to scratch your cheek; “It’s not terrible… I mean, you’re getting better…”

“...I followed your instructions, though…” You watched him lean over the counter to take a look at what had become of the cookies, and then he, too, found his nose wrinkling in distaste. “They don’t turn out very well, do they?”

“On the plus side… They don’t taste bad!”

To make a point, you held up a cookie and took a cheerful bite.

“...Well, you know. Aside from the burnt ones, I guess…”

A pout formed on his face with ease, and with the way he’d been leaning over, you were able to notice the slight flutter of his eyelashes with every blink.

For a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

“How are you so good at baking?” he sighed. “I know you’ve been trying to help… But is there something you’re not telling me?” His voice sounded a little dejected, more emotion seeping into it than usual, and you could see his desire to learn reflected cleanly in his gaze. Xavier wasn’t often this expressive. You knew he was genuine with all of this, and especially with all of the impromptu baking lessons that he’d dragged you into.

Not that you ever complained, of course.

To you, any moment you got to spend with him was one of comfort; an opportunity you could never bring yourself to pass up on.

Even if these moments often ended up in…

You took another look at the cookies.

Well, burnt things.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You knew you weren’t supposed to, and you watched his expression change from one of gloom to that of bewilderment. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as if trying to understand your sudden outburst—and with Xavier, you found, it was this expression that you so unabashedly adored. The confusion made him seem akin to a lost puppy, innocence in his eyes unveiled, a sincere glimpse into the person he didn’t often let you see.

This, with the way the sunlight streamed in through the window, the placement of his kitchen aptly weaved into the path of the sun, made the moment all the more heartwarming.

This was why you could never decline his invitations.

If only to see a little bit more of him the way that you were…

Your laughter settled into a grin, and you shook your head.

“Nothing, it’s just… Xavier, you’re so… So…” You made vague gestures with your hands, trying to find a suitable word. “So cute.”

The confusion in his face no less settled at that, but he crossed his arms. “...Well, so are you.”

You paused.

Your eyes widened.

In retrospect, it wasn’t as if this was anything new. Quips like this would often come out of nowhere; you’d learned to get a little bit used to it. That was the Xavier you were familiar with.

But there was something about the way he said it this time that made your heart skip another beat.

It had been doing that quite often in his presence, as of late.

The softness, perhaps; the directness, perhaps—or maybe it was the way the depth in his eyes made it seem a little more real. He met your gaze head-on, never wavering, never taking back what he’d said.

But in another split second, that moment was gone—and just as you had meant to tease him, now it didn’t seem like the words held much weight for him. There was an easy smile on his face, his eyes softened ever so slightly, but then he reached out for his own cookie to taste. And it was almost as if he hadn’t said anything at all. It was so typical of him to act so nonchalant about it.

Perhaps, part of you wished that he had said something more.

You cleared your throat.

“A- anyway,” you dusted some crumbs off of your clothes, “you can just—you know, try again later? You could follow along with a demonstration, or something… Maybe it was a little much just to recount the recipe to you. But, I really still think you’re improving! This’s a lot better than the last time we baked already, so with more practice I think you—”

Your words felt swallowed down in your throat, his eyes watching you with such intensity that you nearly had to take a step back.

“You’re amazing.”

Huh?

“You’re good at a lot of things. I don’t think I know what I’d be doing with all of this if you weren’t here.”

Again he spoke, with the follow of silent words that, to you, seemed like they never really made it out of his mouth. Like there was something more, something else he would have loved to say out loud, but he… didn’t.

As if he were holding back.

He took the tray from you, setting it aside, his eyes following the sunlight. You noticed him squinting slightly when he found its source, acting, as always, as if he didn’t just say something that could get the butterflies in your stomach acting up. As if the push and pull that had consumed most of the days you’d been spending together as of late didn’t… exist.

You almost didn’t know what to make of it, until he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Can we do this again, sometime?”

“I—huh?”

“I like baking with you.”

His head turned back to face you, and there was a small smile playing on his lips—one that mirrored the one you’d had just moments ago.

“Let’s do this again sometime.”

It wasn’t a question anymore, but a statement.

You swallowed down the fluster in your throat, feeling as if the implications of his words were a lot more than just… This.

But you offered a smile. “O…okay. Yeah. I… I would like that, too.”

It was so difficult to say no to him.

…Not that you’d ever want to say no, anyway.

—ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ.

He would do that quite often, you found.

Your eyebrows knitted together as you glanced up from your textbook, only to find him, chin in his hand, not at all paying attention to the book laid out in front of him. Blue eyes bore into your own, and though that selfsame flurry of butterflies whirled around in your chest, you only crossed your arms at him in response.

The library was quiet.

You were the only ones here at this hour, quite early into the morning, save for a few people scattered in their seats here and there. The only sounds were a few hushed whispers every now and then, the rustling of paper, perhaps the sound of a book closing, a chair scraping. Menial sounds, if only to add to the environment.

Sure, it was a perfect conduit for thoughts to wander, for sleeping to be induced, but—but he promised. He promised to help you study for this exam, or at the very least, that he would study with you so you wouldn't feel alone in it.

Yet here he was, not taking it as seriously as you'd hoped him to.

“What are you even looking at?” you nearly whined, your voice lower so as not to disturb the people around you that were reading. “A library is made for reading, you know…”

You didn't know how to feel at the expression he gave you, rather relaxed and unconcerned, head moving in a little nod. He gestured towards the open book before him; “I have a book,” he spoke matter-of-factly.

You gave him a pout.

“Yes, but you're not reading it…”

“I'm… doing more important things.”

“...Like what?”

“Studying.”

You couldn't tell if he was being serious, but his words definitely made it seem like he was playing around. In fact, had his tone not been so direct, you could have thought he was mocking you.

“Are you making fun of me?” you huffed. “If you didn't want to come here with me, you could've just said so, you know.” You made a face, and then promptly rolled your eyes. “You're not even looking at your book. What are you studying, then?”

And then he smiled.

And it was less irritating to you than it was worrisome, for there was something about that smile that made you feel caught.

Though in what, you weren't quite sure yet.

“Xavie—”

“You.”

You blinked, your words cut off, your brows furrowed in confusion. “...What?”

“You, I'm studying you.”

He reached over and brushed against your hair, knuckles just barely grazing over the side of your head, nearly akin to a slight flutter of the wind. In an instant, you felt a faint trace of dust fall down onto the table. Your eyes followed it, the moment passing in silence.

You bewilderedly blew it away.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak just yet, only quite having the mental fortitude to look back up at him, the confusion on your face ever more evident.

“There was something in your hair,” he smiled.

Your face flushed, then, and you weren't unaware of the particular gleam in his eyes. He might have been stating the truth, but he was obviously still… teasing.

“Xavier—!”

A finger to your lips, this time, and there was no holding back the smile that formed on his own.

“Shhh,” he spoke quietly, “it's a library. You have to be quiet.”

You couldn't help the way your cheeks bloomed into shades of pink, and you lowered your head back to your book, defeated.

He didn't know the things he made you feel.

There was little sense left in you to find some kind of retort.

—ꜰᴏᴜʀ.

“You have kind of a funny interest in all of these legends,” you mused, following him with more careful footsteps.

Your eyes focused on the cone of ice cream in your hands, delighted at the appearance that you were promised. Though you had to plod through such a touristy place such as this for it, you were glad to have the bunny-shaped sundae cone finally right there in front of you. Holding it up a little, you tilted your head to compare the side-by-side image of the vanilla ears with Xavier, and smiled to yourself.

It kind of looked like him.

Little white ears matched the shade of his hair, and you figured it was maybe just missing those blue eyes you loved so much.

The person in question, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas on his agenda.

He barely noticed your little self-satisfying antics, brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the navigation app you’d installed on his phone. It was endearing how adamant he’d been on sticking with an old-fashioned map; this was a side to him you found that you adored dearly. Moving to circle around him, your eyes shone at his expression of concentration, his eyes narrowed, lips jutted out slightly into somewhat of a pout.

God, you really…

The thought remained uncompleted, and you cleared your throat.

“Xavier,” you reached up to lower his phone, shuffling closer to him to take a peek. “I really don’t think it’s that far… If you’re having trouble with it, just give it to me and—”

The phone screen shut as his finger moved over the lock button, and he promptly put it back into his pocket. A little smile, and a shake of his head, and then his arms were steering you forward as if nudging you along to continue walking.

“Nope,” he said, with a shake of his head to emphasize it. “I’ve studied it enough. We just have to walk a little bit in that direction. We’ll see the lovers’ bridge, then.”

Your eyebrows raised in amusement.

You let him steer you, felt the way his hand moved from over your shoulder to back by his sides, your hands brushing every so often. The only way you could distract yourself from it was to stare intensely at the ice cream in your other hand, one that had endured a few little kitten licks from you, but had its shape more obviously affected by the warmer temperature around you. You wondered, in the back of your mind, if it would last before you got to the bridge at all.

“Why do you want to go there, anyway?” You risked a glance back up at him as you spoke.

This little trip, in and of itself, had been planned on very much a whim—or, you supposed, not very planned, at all. But you could recount the few times you had been out with Xavier, and they had often been on your invite. This time, it was he who had insisted on dragging you out along with him, all to find the so-called Lovers’ Bridge that was infamous for its ‘good fortune’.

The white pedestrian bridge, stretching over the river in a sleek, sophisticated figure, had been used as a filming location for a number of romance movies. Of course, these were films that you had seen… But ones you knew Xavier had yet to, especially with the way he usually avoided all those sappy titles in the first place.

It was odd enough that he'd want to visit the bridge for such a reason… Yet there was more.

And you had found out about those reasons not more than a day before you’d left.

Because more than filming locations, was the superstition behind the bridge—a bridge that had completed its construction on Valentine’s Day, thus earning its name. And it had been swirling with promises and legends ever since, ones that reached the ears of even those outside the area. According to what had spread online, crossing the bridge with the one that you loved would ensure a long and happy life with them as a couple. And something churned in the pit of your stomach as you mulled over the thought, tongue darting out for another few licks on the treat that you held.

The taste of vanilla was cooling on your mouth, a welcoming rush of sugar that served as a means for you to ground yourself a little.

Because you and Xavier were not a couple.

In fact, you were far from it.

You were friends; yes, neighbors; yes, colleagues; yes.

Lovers?

The thought brought a blush to your cheeks, because you wished that you were. And you were aware that sometimes, the both of you tended to act like you were. You spent nearly every moment that you could together, the lingering warmth of his touches and his presence near you whenever he could be near you were burned into your memory. The rumours at the Association didn’t fall on deaf ears, either. You knew what people were saying about the both of you, and you oftentimes wished them true—you did. The affections you held for him were undeniable.

But that was quite frankly not the reality you lived in.

Xavier had never been clear about it with his signals, nor direct about his feelings, nor—nor anything else. Nothing official had ever occurred between either of you, not in this oddly-structured game of tag, so shrouded in this push and pull, where the rules remained ambiguous, and where the outcomes presented just as vague.

And it was a terrifying thing to assume.

Yet, without properly explaining why… he had been adamant all day to walk straight into it—the bridge, its surrounding legend, all of it.

“When good luck is involved, it’s better to believe they exist. You have nothing to lose.”

Those were words he was fond of saying, and the only words he would ever use to give you a reason.

The same could be said for this moment.

You found yourself being thoughtful as you fell into step with him, eyes scanning your surroundings, watching the couples that seemed to float in and out of your peripheral vision. There weren’t as many of them as you thought there would be—the bridge was now in your line of sight, its pearly-white structure jumping out against the backdrop of the setting sun. At the very front of its steps was a little bed of flowers; blue, you noted, tinted ever so slightly with the swirl of cotton candy from the clouds above.

The river below it rippled with a darkening pinkish hue.

The sun would be below the horizon in just a few moments.

And at the same time, in perhaps a minute or two, the bridge would be lit up in an equally captivating display of beautiful colors.

Even without the legend, you wouldn’t have minded getting to see something so pretty.

“...Your ice cream is melting.”

You blinked at his voice, your eyes drawing away from the scenery and back to him.

It could have been the shadows of the sunset that made him shine a little brighter in your eyes, now, that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to formulate any sort of response.

His eyes softened, the gentle breeze brushing through his hair.

Sometimes, you thought, there was something about him so inexplicably out of reach. Yet here he was, giving you attention, reaching for your hands, allowing for the heat from his skin to linger upon your own for even just a moment…

And then in these moments, you couldn’t help but think of how lucky you were.

“Aren’t you going to finish that?” he mumbled. There was a slight shift of his gaze towards the cone in your hand, before he looked at you again. “It might make your hand all sticky if we go and walk on the bridge right now…”

He was right, of course.

Your own gaze drifted down to the hand with your ice cream, now less of a rabbit, and more of the standard scoop of ice cream for all that it had melted. Parts of it had even begun to drip down onto your hand, but you had barely noticed the feeling.

“Oh, I… I mean, we can wait for the lights to turn on first, so…”

Blinking again as if to snap yourself out of your reverie, you lifted your hand—

Xavier beat you to it.

He had his thumb and index finger wrapped around your wrist, slowly pulling it towards him.

A smile.

You didn’t miss that smile, how could you? Slight, and perhaps, barely visible otherwise, but your breath caught in your throat—Something had you gravitating towards him, nearly entranced in the heat of his stare, sucking in a sharp intake of breath as his tongue darted out to lick at the stains of vanilla that ran over your palm.

You were blushing, probably.

You couldn’t even tell, at that point.

Soft, tiny little kitten clicks at your skin, almost as if to clean up the mess—you couldn’t really have bothered to focus on the expression you were making, feeling your own heart beat so loudly out of your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

“Xavier…” you mumbled.

His eyes twinkled, and he moved his mouth to the treat in your hand, taking a bite of his own.

“Can’t let it go to waste, right?” he licked at his lips.

The clusters of people, then, long-forgotten in the moment you had dared to share with each other, let out a resounding exclamation at amazement, as a click resounded in the air and the bridge before the both of you erupted into dazzling colors. Yet, your skin still tingled at the feeling of his touch, and you felt dazed as you turned your eyes back to him.

“I guess we, um… We should finish this before we go…?”

He chuckled, and then he nodded—“I… Think vanilla isn’t a bad flavor.”

—ꜰɪᴠᴇ.

The spin in your head made your vision hazy. You couldn’t remember, anymore, what time it was—only that your system had become intoxicated long past coherence, and the grass you sat on had a strangely soothing texture to it. And in front of you, right then, was that red, empty solo cup you’d brought with you outside.

You vaguely made out some loud music, and a voice in the background—Tara’s, probably. But you couldn’t be bothered to decipher what she was saying. You didn’t register that she was actually right beside you, trying to keep you engaged in conversation, a hand over your shoulder.

How long it had been like this?

You weren’t quite sure, either.

What you could remember was that Tara had planned a little girls’ party of her own, and it had gotten bigger than anticipated… And you supposed you’d ended up drinking more than you’d expected to. Eventually, you found yourself out in her front yard. It was the night breeze that felt comforting, despite the cold. There were stars out that night—a few of them shone brilliantly above you, and though you weren’t looking at them anymore, their presence made you smile.

It was only when a shadow passed over your figure that you looked up again, head lolled a little to the side, rapid blinks trying to steady on the person in front of you.

“There you are!” Tara stood up from beside you, dusting off some of the dirt from her pants. With a grunt, she managed to pull you up, though your weight naturally rested on her shoulders. Unbeknownst to you, she let out a pleading sigh. “Sorry, Xav… I didn’t notice how much she drank until she went wandering out here…”

Oh…

Xav.

The nickname registered in your head, and your vision, a little less blurry at the snap the information had given you, managed to form Xavier’s figure in front of you. His hair was a little unruly, the white hoodie so familiar on him a little more disheveled than you knew it to be—his eyes, too, held a certain level of concern that you were able to make out.

He had probably been sleeping.

There was a twinge of guilt that lapsed over your face, but it didn’t last—his presence brought on a giddiness you couldn’t have thought to control, and a lopsided grin easily came to prove it.

You slid off of Tara to fall straight into his arms; the scent of his laundry detergent had you sighing. It was almost by instinct that your arms wrapped around his waist.

“Xavier…”

A nuzzle against his chest had Tara clearing her throat then, and she made a pointed gesture.

“Well! She couldn’t stop talking about you, so I figured you were the person I should call! Sorry, really! I didn’t realize it would get this out of hand, but I do need to get to the other guests, too, so I hope I can leave her in your hands! Thanks, Xavier!”

You didn’t notice her leave, not until you felt a warm hand on your back, a familiar, soothing voice speaking softly into your ear.

“Hey… Let’s get you home. Let me just… Call a cab, and—”

“...But you’ll just leaveeee…”

He paused.

“I’m… Taking you home, so you can get some rest.”

“T’my place?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll stay w’me?”

The silence that followed only had you clinging to him tighter.

“Seeee…! You’re not answering! You’re gonna leave me ‘gain… N’I dunno when I’ll see you ‘gain, n’theenn…!”

Your voice trailed off on its own, resorting to nuzzling against him, feeling as if parting from him in this moment would never give you another to hold him so close like this.

But it didn’t last.

The fact was: Xavier was gentle with you; still.

Patient.

Enough to pry you away from him, enough to get you to comply to get in the cab with him, enough to usher you up to your apartment and unlock the door… until the familiar warmth of your couch had you happily sprawling out, hugging the pillows close to you.

You barely had any recollection of what had happened; it was enough for you to know that he had been with you.

That he was still with you.

“Xavie…”

Your hands reached out for his, registering late that you’d been reaching for the glass of water he was holding rather than the hands themselves.

And you frowned.

“Huh? C’mere… Wan’ hold you…”

You made out the shake of his head, gentle gestures to sit you up properly on the couch.

“You have to drink water first,” came his reply.

His voice was so soft.

You could let it get to your head, the mere sound of it bringing a silly grin onto your face, a giggle bubbling past your throat. “Oooh… Can you say it again?”

It was clearly nonsensical, and you noted yet another shake of his head, the patience in his eyes ever evident despite all of your antics. It could only make you giggle even more, your hands falling to your lap, expression clearly very much out of it.

Until—

“Angel… You’re too drunk. You really need to drink this.”

Angel.

The giggles, the laughter, all stopped abruptly. You felt your expression shift into that of wonder, your eyes wide and blinking curiously. Somehow, the nickname sent all kinds of flutters into your stomach—ones you couldn’t bring yourself to understand, especially in the state that you were in.

You leaned forward:

“You’re right… You’re like an angel…”

Your voice was light and airy, nearly akin to a gasp, and perhaps you might have giggled it off again had Xavier not reacted with a sigh. Because before you could do anything else, he moved his hand to rest gently over the curve of your spine, bringing the glass up to your lips.

It registered, then.

Your response was immediate, as if nearly conditioned, allowing him to tilt the glass upwards. You found yourself eagerly gulping at the water as it flowed down your throat; you hadn’t realized how much you needed the water. You were suddenly all the more grateful he had given it to you, gasping for air once the glass had been drained empty, and then blinking to look at him through hazy eyes.

“Better?” he murmured.

The hand on your back gave you soft, gentle rubs as he set the glass down, and then he reached up to brush the strands of hair from out of your face.

Immediately, you stilled. All traces of your giggles seemingly washed away with the water you’d drunk. You certainly didn’t feel any less intoxicated than earlier, but his touch through your shirt, and the soft caress on your cheek, felt all the more heightened that this moment felt nearly surreal to you. It was then that you could notice those favorite blue eyes of yours, staring into your own, searching your own, soft, and full of worry, and—

And something else.

Something you weren’t coherent enough to put a label to.

But something that caused tears to well up in your eyes.

“Xavie,” you pouted, though you kept relatively still nonetheless, if only to lean more into his touch. “Why’re you lookin’ a’me like that?”

You caught the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, but he didn’t move away.

“Like what, angel?”

That nickname again.

You groaned as you fell back against the couch, grabbing a pillow to bring it up to your face.

Something about that nickname was driving you insane.

You felt your cheeks flush a cherry red, not just from the alcohol, and more likely from whatever else he was making you feel. You couldn’t quite tell what expression you were making, hidden behind the pillow, fighting some sort of giddy urge to let out a squeal. You didn’t even know how you had the space to overanalyze it. But the questions swirled in your head before you could stop it—has he said it to anyone else before? Was it just… you? Was it supposed to be… Common, and you weren’t aware of it?

The possibilities that plagued you only allowed another groan to sneak past your lips;

“Wh- why’re you callin’ me that, too! A-an’ being all soft with me, s’like… like you mean something…”

You felt the couch shift beside you, and although you still refused to look at him, you felt yourself naturally gravitating into his warmth.

“Do you… want me to mean something?”

This time, you sniffled.

Saved from his gaze, you quickly moved to bury your face back into his hoodie, allowing yourself to focus on his scent, on the way he held you like this, on the way—for even just a moment—he felt… yours.

“Dunnoooo,” you whined. “I’unno what you’re thinking… I never knowww what you’re thinking! Always so nice to me n’then you leave me all alone the next, then I’unno where to find you anymore… Say all these things n’keep me all close t’you, then you act like nothin’ happened…”

You rambled into his chest, your voice slurred and muffled into the fabric, gripping at his hoodie as if he could disappear in any next second. They were similar words to what you’d said by Tara’s front yard, similar feelings of refusing to let him go. But speaking them out with more clarity—whatever clarity you could muster the way you were speaking now—felt like twisting a knife into your heart.

Because all your thoughts had been clouded with him.

They were all-consuming, deliberately buried down into the pit of your stomach only to resurface with an intensity you could barely fathom yourself. How he’d been treating you, the words that he’d say… For the past days, for the past weeks, just—just him. Him, and his eyes, and his hair, and his voice. His touch. His presence. His comfort.

The Xavier you knew you’d come to love.

A hiccup bubbled in your throat, and you let out a quiet whimper in attempts to quell it.

Love.

Was that the emotion you couldn’t pinpoint?

Was that what you were feeling?

The visceral grip that he had on everything that you were; was that what you could call… Love?

“This isn’t the kind of time we should be talking about this…” You felt him murmur into your hair, a soft kiss placed on the crown of your head. Yet he wasn’t pulling away. He kept his hand on your back, soft, gentle caresses, trying to soothe you from the outpour of emotions you had barely the consciousness to control. “You’re not going to remember this tomorrow. How about we talk about it then?”

“B-but… But you always make excuses!”

“Angel…”

You looked up this time, sniffling in irregulated breaths, eyes watery with tears that were threatening to spill.

“You can’t call me that!” you insisted. Your hands balled into a fist. “D’you know what that means?! W-what if it’s making my heart all restless? N’you can act all calm like it’s nothing!”

“...I’m sorry…”

“An’—an’ you’re… You’re so warm… You’re like a fluffy cloud… N’what if you leave? What if you’re only here ‘cause m’like this, and then the rain passes n’you just leave me all alone again, an’... A-an’ then the sky won’t have any stars, either, n’I’ll be all alone—”

You could register the mix of confusion and concern on his face, your words barely making sense even to you, but your grip on his hoodie remained tight. You felt it, the way your tears rolled down your cheeks, your own expression a mix of desperation and a confusion that likely mirrored his own.

“Just… Just don’t… Don’t leave, Xavier…” you felt your lower lip tremble. “I’on wanna be left all alone… M’scared… I’on wan’ you t’leave…”

Your voice became smaller and smaller with each word, and you were left there, sniffling for a moment, looking up at him with a certain kind of hopelessness.

You were aware, at least, that you likely looked pathetic in his gaze like this.

“...M’sorry, Xav, I-I’unno what…”

Your words swallowed back into your throat when he reached out, brushing his thumb over your cheeks, over the corners of your eyes, wiping away your tears. His touch, as always, felt like a gentle caress. Patient, despite the incoherence of your thoughts and your actions; kind, despite the way you were keeping him here with you very likely against his will.

But he squeezed your hand.

You knew what that meant.

You gulped, looking up at him again, allowing his touch to lull you into a calm as it often did.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I won’t leave. You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Through the haze of your eyes, half blurred from the alcohol and half from the tears, you caught the softening of his gaze. He moved closer, a little bit—slow, steady movements. And then he pulled your arm back over him, his own moving to rest in your hair… Until you were encased in the warmth of his embrace.

Almost just as earlier, except this time more… real.

He didn’t feel like an afterimage, not now.

Not in this moment.

His head dipped down, nuzzling against your neck, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, I’ll… I’ll do better. I’ll stay with you. I’ll be right here.”

His breath tickled your skin when he spoke. And, to you, these were words that you felt were more genuine than you had heard from him in a while. It was enough to have you comfortably settling into his hold, eyes falling closed, breaths beginning to even you out.

Your head still throbbed.

It was a combination of everything; all of these feelings, and the alcohol that had planted itself into your system far past any level of sensibility.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe you wouldn’t recall any of this when you woke up the next day.

You tended not to remember things when you got like this, after all.

But still, your arms wrapped around him, returning the embrace.

“...I love you, Xavier,” you whispered.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember anything, either.

—ꜱɪx ... xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ.

The soft clinking of spoon against the mug was all he could hear.

It was late in the afternoon, leaves rustling gentle against the kitchen window. The atmosphere was quiet, and peaceful—enough for him to let out a little yawn, eyes blinking slowly in the golden rays of the light.

The tiredness was catching up to him.

Fluctuations had been far more unsteady than usual these past few days, and it only meant another morning full of missions for the both of you. Now, here, where in his apartment the both of you decided to relax in, was the first moment of pause the two of you had been granted in a while.

He recalled, too, the complaints you’d muttered on the way back. Though you’d done so on the premise he wouldn’t hear you, he did, anyway. It brought a little smile to his face thinking of the tone of voice you had taken.

For though headstrong and dedicated to your job as you were, you, like all Hunters in the Association, had the right to feel weary. You deserved moments of rest, such as now. Xavier couldn’t blame you for your complaints. He wouldn’t dare.

Like a distant whisper in his mind came words that were familiar to him; words that he wished he had another moment to comfort;

“I’m tired, Xavier… What if I can’t brandish my sword one day? What then?”

The memory made him close his eyes, jaw tightened in a grind of his teeth.

What he’d said, then, were words he had never gotten the chance to fulfil—words he could never take back. He could remember them, still. It was of the last few times that their conversations had been cordial.

And it was the moment he realized that words were not enough; they never would be. Not if he couldn’t live by them. Not with all the promises he had easily broken.

He wondered, then, how many things of the past he’d come to regret.

With a shake of his head, Xavier carried the mug carefully out the kitchen, sure not to let its contents spill. This was your favorite flavor of tea, and it always had been. If he couldn’t make up for lost hours and missed opportunities then, he would make up for it now.

He would try to.

“Hey, Xavier?” Your voice called out, getting steadily clearer to him as his footsteps padded the wooden flooring of his living room. It was his apartment, one he’d know the layout of like the back of his hand—yet he found, instead, that his path had moreso been mapped out by the sound of your voice. “I realize I never got to ask what these are. Is this… Are these what I’m thinking they are…?”

He blinked.

You weren’t where he’d left you, just earlier.

You’d stood up from the couch, the soft rabbit plushie now out of your hands and since left to the side, looking a little dazed. His own gaze flitted from the toy up to your figure, crouched beside a little wooden stand by the corner of the room. In a manner he’d always found familiar, your head was tilted to the side, pure evidence of your own curiosity. And on top of the stand lay a case, beige as most things in his home, raised slightly open to reveal the touches of a little turntable.

Immediately, his eyes softened in understanding.

“It’s a record player. And those are vinyls.”

He walked up behind you to tap on your shoulder, and the way your eyes lit up at the sight of the mug in his hands nearly made his heart skip a beat.

“Really?!” you exclaimed, taking the tea into your own hands. Your shoulders lifted, whether by the warmth of the drink or your own excitement, Xavier wasn’t quite sure. But he smiled, nonetheless.

“Really.”

“Aren’t those from… Incredibly long ago? I mean, I’ve always known you were old-fashioned by nature, but I didn’t expect you to have things like these, too… I don’t think I’ve ever seen them outside of those little antique shops we pass by sometimes.”

You were rambling, almost.

He knew you got like this when you were excited.

Your expression became more animated than usual as you spoke, leaning in to get a closer look, and he almost laughed.

For all the times you’d call him adorable, he almost wanted to say it back to you, this time.

He almost did.

But when you looked at him next, there was a certain plea to your gaze, the corners of your mouth then turned down into a little pout. “Please can we play something?” The hopefulness laced into your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I’ve never heard you use it before! What’s the use of having it sit around if we don’t get to hear what it plays?”

It felt ironic, looking at the image presented before him. The stand the player rested on had two shelves lodged within it, the bottom hosting a set of vinyls, the one above it hosting none other than a stereo. And suffice to say, the stereo had been used a lot more. The case of the player was well-kept, cleaned and shined every now and then… But it was obvious it had barely been used. It might as well have been new. Xavier himself couldn’t recall the last time he’d used it.

But that you were asking him to, only meant that he would give in. It was difficult to say no to you.

He could hardly dream of it.

“Okay,” he said finally, nodding his head in the direction of the vinyls.

The both of you crouched down to look at the titles, Xavier watching intently as your fingers traced over the record sleeves. They were soft, slow, contemplating motions. You took each one out of its place to look at the cover, eyes skimming the title, before putting it back down—rinse, and repeat.

This time, he did laugh. There was a confused sort of wonder on your face; he was sure that these titles were anything but familiar to you.

“Are you having trouble choosing?” he offered, leaning in closer to look at the records themselves.

Here, sitting so close to you, he could feel the warmth from the tea that you had only taken a few sips of, the scent of your perfume equally as notable in the space between you. Part of him, perhaps, wanted to prolong the moment.

He liked being close to you.

“Mmh… I’m not sure what to expect from either of these,” you admitted, your face scrunched up in concentration. Still your hands trailed over the jackets, and without thinking, he reached over to rest his own hand over your wrist.

When you looked at him, he was pleasantly surprised to find the faint traces of a blush over your cheeks.

You truly were adorable.

But he shook his head.

“Well… They’re a lot different from what we’d be used to now,” he leaned in closer to you to give you a little nudge. “I could choose for you, but I want you to experience it for yourself, too. So, maybe… Choose something you feel drawn to?”

He stood up, then, willing his heart to calm enough for you not to notice how your proximity was affecting him. Instead, he busied himself with the case, lifting up the lid completely to reveal the knobs and switches not otherwise visible just earlier. He tried to remember the last time he’d cleaned it, but it seemed to be in a condition good enough to be able to work, anyway. There was a part of him that let out a sigh of relief at the confirmation; the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you with it.

“Katharine McPhee…” you mumbled, then.

“It’s a pretty name. The cover looked interesting, too, and the song title is… Well…” Your voice trailed off with a shrug, and he looked back at you, blinking at the vinyl you held in your hands.

Slowly, his lips turned back into a little smile.

Oh. That song.

You handed it over to him, expression expectant, as you took another sip of your tea.

“I actually… Don’t really remember how to use it.”

The soft admission fell from his lips, an honest warning that only earned a scoff from you in reply. He didn’t look at you this time, as he gently slid the record out of its jacket and placed it on the turntable. He didn’t need to, after all. He’d memorized enough of your expressions—the mirth in your eyes, the tugging of a teasing smirk against your lips that would eventually spill into a grin… He was sure you had your head tilted in quiet observance, his own hands moving to push the needle flush against the record.

After he reached over to flip the power switch on, he straightened, arms crossed, a hope in his eyes that could have mirrored your own. In a similar manner, you peeked out from behind him.

And then the first notes of a song flouted out from the box.

Mellow tunes wafted around the living room, a different kind of fullness to it compared to the music that both of you were used to hearing from the speakers. The gentle strumming of the guitar, the soft hums that started off the song—he breathed out a sigh of relief, while you, on the other hand, let out an exclamation of amazement.

In his head, he would have likened your behavior to that of a puppy who’d gotten a new toy. The mere thought of it had him glancing away for a moment, the back of his hand covering his mouth to hide his smile.

Yet, he—couldn’t quite look away from you.

It was hard to look away.

It always has been, when you had since filled his heart with a song of its own, and he’d always been so vividly aware of your presence ever since.

As if you were the only thing that truly mattered to him.

And perhaps, you were.

He could think back to these past months, every little glance the two of you would share, every brush of your hands, every caress he dared to initiate, every hold on you he’d be greedy enough to take for his own.

One of the earlier nights he’d let his self-indulgence get the better of him, he almost said those words—always on the tip of his tongue, always surging through his heart with an intensity he had to fight back so as not to scare you. And I love you became goodnight; I love you became stay; I love you became come back; I love you became come with me.

It became a glance. It became a touch, it became the tug of your hand. It became gentle ruffles of your hair, it became smiles, it became laughs, it became—you.

Love became you.

And now, the crisp noise emanating from the player seemed to wrap you in its embrace, smoothly, as you began to sway. Your feet shifted side to side as you let your head bob in time with every step, every little shuffle. You’d tucked your hair behind your ear, and your eyes closed. And he couldn’t help but notice—admire—the warm cascade of sunlight over your hair, shrouding you with a glow more ethereal than he’d ever seen… even with you. You were brighter than the sun. Brighter than the stars. Brighter than anything else, brighter than whatever light his Evol could possibly conjure, and just enough to match the warmth that being here with you, unfiltered and peaceful… filled him with.

“You know… I really like this song!” Your voice echoed through the music then, more noticeable to him than any other sound in the room. You turned your head, eyes meeting his own—”You’re right, it doesn’t sound at all like the kind of music we’d listen to these days, but the melody is really catchy, and her voice is really smooth, and—”

“Dance with me?”

Xavier spoke before he could stop himself.

In the next second he felt a sudden surge of heat at his own statement, nearly retracting his words to look away in embarrassment…

But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached out his hand.

He was sure the tips of his ears were near-glowing red.

He tried again.

“May I… Have this dance?”

And for all that his heart rate had always been naturally slow, he could hear the steady thrum of it in his ears. Louder than usual, quicker than usual, more anticipating than usual. If there was anything that could get him nervous, it was you.

Always you.

But you took his hand.

Your palm in his was small, but just as warm as you always were to him. Just as beautiful, as you always were to him. And perhaps, the world began to fade away, then. It often did, when he was with you. Only, now, in the confines of his home, symphonies echoing in the background, he knew that he was free to hold you as close as he did.

Neither of you spoke for a while as he pulled you up against him, his arms wrapping around your waist, your head against his chest. This was the closest the two of you had ever been in a long, long while, and he realized, then, that the pulse of your heart seemed to beat readily in time to his.

“I didn’t peg you to be a collector type, huh,” you mumbled.

You weren’t looking at him, eyes focused on the shuffle of your feet. He took the opportunity to rest his chin on the top of your head.

“I’m not,” he said quietly. “It was… A gift from a friend, but I haven’t gotten to use it much. It’s… been sitting around.”

He felt you laugh softly against him.

“Yeah? But you’ve kept it around, anyway. Who knows just how old this thing is…”

“...But, it works.”

“Mmh… yeah, it does. Thankfully. And… You know how to use it.”

“I hoped that I would.”

This time, you raised your head, and his breath hitched in his throat. Seeing your eyes, so up close like this, brought on a wave of emotion that he found he had to choke back.

It didn’t stop him from speaking.

“I… thought it might be something you’d like. I’m glad that you do.”

The smile that spread across your face in response to that nearly made his heart jump out of his throat. And the tug of your body closer to him was all he could do to keep those words from spilling out of his mouth.

I love you.

He could say it with a look.

And, sure, you had said it.

He remembered that night.

He’d barely gotten a wink of sleep, holding you in his arms as he had, but you weren’t—You weren’t sober.

And neither of you had talked about that night.

It was as if your relationship had meant to continue for as long as it could without addressing it, and it was driving him insane, and—

And if he could, he would have this moment drag on forever, just you in his arms, a slow dance to the music, as far as he could lie to himself that you were already his without either of you having to say it.

But he knew that was not the case. It couldn't be. And he knew that you knew it, too. He saw it in the way your expression flickered into one of apprehension, and your lips parted to speak.

“Xavier… What are we?”

Your voice came as a soft whisper, with a question he found that he had no immediate answer to. He searched your eyes, brows furrowing, trying to ascertain what it is you were expecting him to say.

He knew what he wanted the two of you to be.

He didn’t know what you were. He didn’t know what… you wanted.

So that was what he said.

“What do you… want us to be?”

It was as if all he knew how to do in that moment was deflect the question back at you.

And you frowned.

“Xavier, that’s not… I don’t…”

The turmoil that made itself obvious in your voice had his heart dropping almost immediately.

Because that was it.

You weren’t sure.

Those words you’d uttered to him just that night were nothing more than a drunken ramble, and he was right—this wasn’t the same as all those years back. Here you were, in his arms, yet every time he’d think you wanted him just as much as he did you, you’d pull back.

How cruel that you would think the same of him, when you could barely be receptive to what advances he could make.

Then, perhaps, he realized there was a limit to how much he could take.

“I know what I want,” he mumbled, then.

His hands moved up to rest against your cheek, a gesture that had become familiar to you, despite the emotional charge behind it, despite the way he could only wish to hold more of you in exactly this way.

And there was so much of you that he held in his heart.

He didn’t even know how to place it anymore. So many years of feelings he’d harbored for you, always, all this time, yet he never knew how to explain it. Neither to you, nor to himself. Because he’d never felt this way with anyone else. To be so full of contentment in someone’s presence; to be so hopelessly enamored by every little thing—even after all this time, this was new to him. New, and profound, and—

And terrifying.

To love you so wholly, so insurmountably, so… so much.

It almost felt foolish how terrifying it was.

His heart felt as though it had lodged itself in his throat, and he was sure that his voice would falter as a result, but this—this was it.

How could he move forward any longer without letting you know?

And it was the way your eyes remained steely on his that allowed him to speak again, determined—

“I want you.”

The music had since been long forgotten. Familiar, yet faded within distant memory, as the world, once more, became filled with you. It had always been like that. In his mind, there were many things that had since receded into cloudiness; a grey abyss of things that once were. Now, the only thoughts that ever seemed to hold clarity to him were thoughts of you.

How much he wanted you.

How much he needed you.

How much he… loved you.

Perhaps, he couldn’t say those words just yet.

Instead, he swallowed them with a kiss.

A chance; a risk—an obvious display of the bounds of longing that he’d reached, that had filled to the precipice, that had tortured him beyond an anguish of waiting.

It was an anguish that only you could fill.

The touch of your lips against his, soft and supple, the way you craned your neck for more of it, the way your arms tugged him closer, closer, pressing him into you if he should dare pull away…

“Again,” you whispered.

And he had his answer, then.

You wanted this just as much as he wanted you.

So he kissed you again.

And again.

“More,” you pleaded, and each and every time you parted with one another, he could only think, perhaps, that there was no place else he would rather be than here with you. The quiet, crackling tune faded into your heedy breaths against each others’ lips. Right then, the music came to its own end, bringing with it a different kind of symphony that now danced within the depths of your eyes.

He felt your hands slide down from his neck back to tug at his sweatshirt, and his forehead moved to rest against yours.

“Satisfied?” he smiled, his voice lighter than it had been today.

“When it comes to you? Never, really.” Your noses bumped together, the slightest nuzzle filled with an insurmountable kind of affection. ”Because I want you, too.”

Those were simple words—but a direct revelation of your feelings, a direct reciprocation of his own, and—naturally, they spoke volumes. Enough for his heart to fill with warmth. Enough for his shoulders to relax, with a sort of relief he wouldn’t be able to explain to you if you asked. And he held you in his embrace, arms still wrapped comfortably around your figure, knowing that he could let go, but… he didn’t quite want to. Not at all. Not when you felt so right with him here; not when the implication of your words settled deeply into his chest.

So instead, he let out a slow, heavy breath, and perhaps he couldn’t help it anymore. His lips gradually inched back impossibly closer to yours, his gaze straying down from your eyes, dizzying, almost, at the way you were barely touching—

“How much?” he mumbled, because an agony of waiting couldn’t possibly be resolved in a single moment.

You let out a soft laugh.

“For forever,” you rolled your eyes, but you smiled. “If having you forever could ever be enough.”

His breath hitched.

Forever.

Forever sounded like bliss with you. Forever sounded far more wondrous than whatever fantasies lived in the pages of those books on his shelves; far more than anything he had ever, ever wished for. And he had wished for this for a long, long time. For you had always been in his heart. He knew, now, that he was in yours.

And forever was as long of a time he was willing to spend with you.

“I’d like that.”

Then his hands gripped your waist tightly, desperately, as his lips came crashing down once more—and this time, the desperation that had coiled itself in the depths of his heart found freedom in the way that he kissed you. Like clawing; almost, as if afraid he could never get another moment like this, as if afraid you could disappear from right in front of him, right then and there.

As if he wouldn't let you.

He couldn't.

And the longer the kiss continued, the hungrier it became.

There was the scent of your perfume, the scent of your shampoo, the taste of your lipgloss… All-engulfing, more, and more, until all he could feel was you. All he could taste was you. You, and you—so warm, and so right, and—his.

All his.

All while he felt your hand tangle into the roots of his hair, and you panted hazily into his open mouth, desperately wanting to breathe, and yet—neither of you wanted this moment to ever end.

And the both of you had an inkling of exactly where this was intending to lead.

Feet shuffled against the floor, a few steps backwards, but neither of you got very far before Xavier was lifting you up into the air. His arms supported the weight of your body through your back and your knees, positioning you into a princess carry—he noted the squeal that you let out, your eyes finding his in search of confirmation. It was, perhaps, instinct the way you clung to his waist next.

But he had never been more grateful for the straightforward layout of his apartment, keen to lay you down on his bed with a promise of much, much, much more. The weight on the mattress shifted, and his figure crawled over your body, the faintest brush of his knuckles against your skin. From this angle, you caged between his arms, legs slotted between yours, his weight holding him up by his forearms—you were beautiful.

More beautiful than you always had been.

The redness that surrounded your lips, lipstick askew, swollen from your kisses… Your hair was splayed out against the pillows, disheveled than things had started with. And there was a certain longing in your eyes that, he was sure, quite vividly reflected in his own.

He could feel the way his hair had likely gotten just as unruly, the sting in his scalp still tingling from where you had tugged and scraped just moments before. Yet he made no attempts to fix it, the annoyance of his hair nearly in his eyes of no importance to him in this moment. Not when you were here. Not when the tension in the air left him feeling dizzy, the prospect of having you closer making his head spin.

“My starlight,” he whispered, then.

He watched, fondly, at the blush that covered your face—and he came to the realization that the midday glow had melted into skies of velvet.

And this was different, now, from any past sunsets he had ever watched with you.

Now, it streamed in through the window in skyburst reds and yellows. vibrant hues painted over your face, your body… A skyward hearth reflecting the solace he could only ever find in you.

And you were his sky.

You were his home.

You were his… everything.

It was these words that were swallowed back as his lips descended past your cheek, past your jaw, down your neck. He would let actions speak louder than words, this time; the words uttered instead into your skin. His fingers worked deftly to undo the buttons of your blouse, hips rolling into you, a friction that had his breath tremble against your neck. And then a suckle over the soft flesh on your shoulder made you gasp—he’d do it again, and again, lips trailing your skin in search of every mark of you he could finally, finally make his.

His eyes closed.

He could savor the sensation—hot breaths against you, the drag of his hands across the smoothness of your skin, those slow, loving circles he rubbed into your waist before he could tug your clothing off of your body.

Not a word was spoken; not yet.

Only hushed gasps and shaky breaths, every roll of his hips, the friction of his erection against the outline of your sex nearly driving both of you into a quiet dance of insanity.

You broke the quiet first.

“Xavier.”

A shaky whisper as his fingers trailed downwards, pressing flush against your lips, feeling the desperate cling of the fabric against you.

Another stroke of his finger, lewdly accompanied with the wet, sticky sound of your arousal—

“Xavier.”

He looked at you, then. Dragged his gaze from over your figure to the haze in your own.

And he whispered; “Beautiful.”

His strokes against your cunt had your bottom lip quivering, hands slipping from over his back to the mattress below. Little taps against your clit, finger dipping the fabric nearly inside, your wetness seeping through with ease… He could feel every pulse of your pussy, your need for stimulation never more clear to him than in that moment.

And—

“Xavier… Xavier.”

You sounded so sweet.

Every utterance of his name had hip drawing in a breath; he had never before in his life heard it called out with so much… love.

He wanted more of it.

Lips moved to mouth at your breast, as your panties were pushed aside. Slow, open-mouthed kisses, dangerously close to your nipples but not quite—

His finger, then, slid directly over your folds, and you caved.

“Xavier—!”

A louder, uninhibited moan of his name, your back arching into his touch.

And there, displayed in his eyes, was a look of wonder. A look of love.

Your legs spread in response, inviting, daring. You were baring yourself to him so willingly, that you didn’t need to say anything else. The plea in your eyes was enough.

The plea in your voice was enough.

“Xavier…” you spoke again, barely a whisper, your hands moving back to thread through his hair.

And how could he ever deny you?

You shuddered immediately as his lips moved to wrap around your nipple, the heat of your skin against him pulling the corner of his lips up into a little smile. Every flick of his tongue had your body twitching beneath him, and he felt every little jerk with a certain sense of pride.

It was so easy, then, for his finger to push inside.

You gasped, and he pushed deeper—the gentle probing of your hole had you pliant and starved for his touch, his name falling out from your lips in a chant.

“Xavier… Xav—Xavier— Xavier—!”

He groaned against your skin. Your sounds were like music to his ears, a jolt straight down to the tent in his boxers that was almost painful.

Yet still, his eyes never strayed from yours.

He let his teeth graze over your bud as his finger curled inside you, pressing against your gummy walls, just slow, easy thrusts to guide you into the rhythm. And he could see it in your eyes. He searched them, equally as lost in the swirl of haze that had you drowned in the pleasure he gave you—and it was beautiful. Almost heart-wrenchingly beautiful. How he had always wished, yearned, to belong to the inner world behind your irises, and now he—he could.

He only pulled away from your breasts to rest his head by your ear, a low chuckle resounding. He felt the effect of it almost instantly as you clenched over his finger, but he didn’t stop there—a second digit found its way in.

“Shh, I know, angel, I know.”

Quiet, soothing whispers against your ear, his other hand moving to brush the hair out of your face.

This time, the light from the window was bathed in twilight—

He smiled.

That even the moon and the stars would smile upon you, would cover you in their light… The sky itself would speak of love. Of you.

He watched, as your hips, illuminated by the evening glow, began to make more desperate motions. You drew his fingers in deeper, guiding them to rub against the spot that had you crying out another chant of his name. His thumb brushed up against your clit, then, and your hand reached out to grab his arm.

Another smile.

“Is it there, angel?” he murmured. His hair fell over your face as he moved to face you, lips ghosting over yours. And he caught every gasp, every moan, ever drone of his name and every shudder of pleasure he could elicit by repeating the same actions.

Again.

And again.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, wanting him close, his ministrations unrelenting. Long fingers dipped in and out of the heat between your legs, sounds of slick and arousal emanating from your cunt in time with the murmurs you keened into the crook of his neck.

“Close?” he whispered.

Whimpers fell from your mouth as he kissed at the corners of your lips, gently coaxing you closer to your high. Each pump of his fingers had your body arching higher, higher off the mattress, the soft cooing of his voice a catalyst to the climax you were so close to.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, Xavier… Please!”

Your words nearly made his throat close up, eyes closing momentarily as his cock twitched in response to you.

“I know,” he mumbled, “I know, starlight. You can do it, just a little more. Focus on me. Does it feel good?”

He leaned up to kiss the little beads of tears that formed out of the corner of your eyes, whispering against the flutter of your eyelids as the only coherent response you could give was a feeble nod.

“Then cum for me, angel.”

You gasped, and he felt it. Your walls constricted, your body arched, and his words, his voice playing into the heat in your core, so much so that it was much, much easier for you to let go. The coil snapped, and your hips bucked upwards, his name mixing with curses upon your lips that he found… delightful to his ears enough to smile.

“That’s it. There we go. You’re so good, angel, look at you…” He let out a slow breath as he withdrew his fingers from you, watching as your body twitched in the aftermath of your orgasm. Slowly, he slid down your body, hands gripping your thighs to spread you apart, and he placed a soft, barely-there kiss against your clit.

Your body jerked at the contact, and he immediately rubbed soothing circles into your skin, cheek resting against your thigh as he looked up at you with a smile.

“I know,” he whispered, again, “I know. You’re sensitive. I won’t do too much.”

But you shook your head.

His eyes blinked slowly, carefully, as he felt your fingers in his hair, coaxing him back up to you.

“Angel?”

“You’re an angel.”

Your breathing had calmed enough for you to speak this time, the familiar words falling from your lips in a way that made his heart skip a beat.

“You…” he breathed out in disbelief as your foreheads touched, taking in the slightest hint of mirth that became visible in your eyes.

And after all this time—through all the doubts that swirled in his head, through all the desperation to get the timing perfect, in manner with the perfectionism that had been instilled so deeply into his heart—

It was you who spoke the words first.

“I love you.”

And the lump in his throat had prevented him from responding immediately, but you knew.

Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, and like all the years he had felt such a familiar gesture, he allowed himself to surrender. The weight of his head fell into your palm as he nuzzled closely into you, his own eyelids fluttering, as if savouring every bit of affection that you held in that caress.

“My starlight…”

A feeble rasp of the little nickname he’d made for you was all he could muster in the moment, and you, in return, could only chuckle.

Perhaps, it made the moment feel more real.

A soft sigh fell from your lips as he pressed back up against you, as your hands worked to pull down his boxers, as the throbbing of his cock pushed against folds.

“Starlight, I…”

His words melted into a groan as it was you who moved your hips against him, the slide of your sexes coating his member in your slick. And the quiet of the night could not have rang in his head any louder than the wetness between the both of you, evidence of the desire that rang true in your bodies as his hips seemed to move with a mind of their own. His eyes closed as he dragged his length along your folds, breath stuttering as the head of his cock would catch on your entrance with each withdrawal of his hips.

Your breaths were shaky as you hugged him closer, receptive of his slow grinds into you and against you, and he realized, then, that this was real.

Your words were real. There was no alcohol laced into your words this time. Instead, you nodded your head, and he noticed it—a different kind of intoxication, the reflection of his figure stirring in your eyes with unspoken need.

“Xavier…” You whispered again, and it was a plea.

Such a multitude of ways that you could say his name.

“Xavier… please, take me.”

And with one slow thrust, he was there.

Closer to you than ever; as close as the two of you could be.

A moan fell from his lips as the tight passage constricted around him, the thickness of him stretching your walls to accommodate the feeling of being so full.

And it was enough.

“I love you…”

His head fell against your chest as he felt himself tremble, the sensation overwhelming. You were so snug and warm around him, so… perfect. There was no stopping the words from falling out of his lips. He would say it again.

“I love you.”

He felt your breath stutter against the crown of his head, and he buried himself deeper into you, nuzzling into your chest, his body alight with a heat that he could barely begin to fathom.

He loved you so much, it ached.

And you moaned as your head threw back, hands clawing into his back, as his hips began to move. Slowly, at first, the languid pacing of his hips allowing you to feel the drag of his length against your walls, allowing him to soak in the way your cunt would suck him right back into you.

“Xavier, Xavier, Xavier…”

Your sounds were soft from your lips, a melody that had him rhythmically moving in the tune of, only picking up the pace ever so slightly—because he could hardly get enough of you. You drank each other in shamelessly, savouring the taste of your skin, every inch of your bodies colliding with every movement, and it was—enthralling. Breathtaking. Every snap of his hips as he breathed heavily against you had you shuddering. You would meet his grinds with needy little humps of your own, and he—

He could lose himself in this.

And all he could focus on was the endless litany of his name upon your lips, the quiet sound of skin against skin, the near-filthy squelch of your cunt with each dance the two of you would play in.

Until he could barely breathe.

Until his lips were back on yours, and you would hold each other close, hold each other tight, never letting go because this—all of it—was exactly what the both of you needed.

Xavier felt it, then. The squeeze of your walls, the flutters, the pulses—he lifted his head.

His vision was hazy.

All he could think of was you; all he could feel was you; all he could see was you. The flush of your cheeks, the way your eyes looked back at him with a darkened, half-lidded gaze, the way your mouth held open in desperate pants for air.

And he moved harder, harder, faster—

“Angel,” he choked out, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your body.

“D-don’t stop, Xavi, please, don’t—don’t—”

“M.. M’not stopping, angel… I know… I know, feels s’good, doesn’t it…”

He angled his hips, deliberately pushing his cock against the spots inside of you that he’d memorized, and—

“X- Xavier…!”

His teeth grit as you clenched around him, legs drawing over his hips and keeping him flush against you enough to trigger his own release.

“Take it… C’mon… take it, angel, take it, take—it—”

His head dipped to bury against your hair, tucking you under his chin, keeping you caged in his arms for as long as he could. His hips stuttered as he pumped inside of you, spilling his load with a wave of euphoria that had you both letting out a cry of pleasure. And he pulled out just the littlest bit before sliding in again, shallow thrusts making a mess of his cum, the throb of his cock pulsating against your walls…

Muffled groans turn into trembling breaths, heavy pants as the atmosphere gradually relaxed into contentment.

“I love you.”

He peeled off of your body only to gently stroke at your cheek, taking in the glow in your smile at his words.

So he said it again.

“I love you.”

And he leaned in to pepper kisses over the side of your face, like little specks of stardust, a gather of constellations that could only fill his universe full of you.

You laughed, softly, nuzzling your nose against his.

“You make my heart smile,” you sighed, and he placed a kiss at your eyelids in response.

“And you make mine. Always.” An honest reply. His hands found yours, fingers intertwined, a soft, gentle massage into your palm. “...I love you. I’m sorry I took so long.”

And you smiled.

“You did take long,” you hummed. “But now that you’re here… It’s worth it. Just... Make it up to me and cuddle for a little. Okay?"

His eyes fell closed.

This time, he felt—this was a promise he could make for you. This time, knowing he had you, he thought… Perhaps, he could.

“...Mhm. Rest now,” he whispered. “And I’ll be by your side. Always.”

“You said it again, my heart's in motion; every word feels like a shooting star. I'm at the edge of my emotions, watching the shadows burning in the dark, and I'm in love—and I'm terrified."

[Terrified ; Katharine McPhee]

⁺₊ / an: first of all scene 4 was inspired by the tamsui bridge in taiwan, second of all can you believe this is the first time i used 3rd person pov limited (non-reader)?? and it was such ??? a challenge??? and third of all DID YOU NOTICE… that i used the slow dance trope in direct contrast to sylus’ "once upon a december" drabble hehe i’m smart sometimes <3

ANYWAY my thoughts on this is that writing this made me realize why xavier/mc has always felt so special to me, and why the 21 days card made me so emotional :'> this took reallyyy long to finish because i reaally wanted to convey the gentleness in their relationship (through a reader insert, no less!) while also keeping all that fear and desperation and uncertainties of falling in love still very much real and present 🙏 writing the outline and scenes 5+6 made me cry a little,,, i hope reading this fic has allowed you to feel the depth of their love, too <3

also : mention for @sadfragilegirl for that one request you sent a while back! since you requested "passionate loving smut" with xavier i'd think this fits in with that hehe

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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empresskylo · 10 months

Text

you wanna kiss me so bad, it makes you look stupid. pt. 1

⊹ simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

[ warnings ] slightly nsfw. reader referred to as 'she' once. wc 979

part 2

cod masterlist

Everyone shows their love differently, you just so happened to show you cared about someone by relentlessly teasing them. And it was so easy with Soap and Gaz. They would give you shit right back and you’d all burst out laughing. But when it came to Ghost—your lieutenant—you couldn’t justify throwing jabs at your superior. You imagined yourself making a joke about him being ugly under his mask and you shuddered. Even the thought of poking fun at him made you uncomfortable.

But as Ghost and Soap grew closer, you overheard their—crude—conversations on comms. And often, it was Johnny saying something stupid and Ghost’s monotone voice mocking him.

“It's dark in here,” Soap had said.

“Good observation. S’water still wet?” Ghost’s deadpan voice had made you giggle to yourself, careful to make sure you weren’t doing it over comms.

It surprised you when someone like Lt.—a stone-cold killer—could have a sense of humor. And it made you a little more influenced to act snarky, your tongue loosening around him on its own accord.

But for a while, it still managed to make your eyes widen whenever Ghost would say something silly, like when Price was basically on the verge of coming back from the dead, and Soap said, “Was worried your face was gonna melt off like those other poor bastards.”

You could still hear Ghost’s low voice in your ears. “If you ask me, it’d be an improvement.”

However, after time, you slowly fell into slipping in snides to Ghost alongside Johnny. You hadn’t even realized how often you teased him…

When you came back to the safehouse with Ghost during a mission, you were both soaked. Your clothes dripped water all over the floors, leaving a wet trail behind you. Soap and Gaz were on their way, but you and Ghost had beaten them there.

You began to shiver, the damp clothing sticking to your skin making it insufferably cold in the room. You dumped your stuff on the half-broken couch, slipping your tactical vest off. You pried your shirt off with several, strained grunts, getting it stuck over your head at one point, and then tossed it to the floor with a plopping sound. You immediately felt warmer having shed the wet material.

Your eyes flickered up and spotted Ghost. He, too, had stripped his vest off, holding it in his hand. But his eyes were locked on you, unabashedly watching as you had torn your shirt from your chest. You still had a thin tank top on, but you felt far more exposed with his eyes on you than you expected.

You smirked, not really thinking there was any intention behind his gaze. You walked towards him, wanting to go around and search the rooms for dry clothes, his eyes following you. When you brushed past him, you spoke. “You wanna kiss me so bad, Lt. It makes you look stupid.” You had meant it as a joke. To tease him for watching you—he was probably just spacing off, deep in thought, his eyes inconveniently resting on you.

His arm stretched out, connecting with the wall, making you halt. Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned to look up at him.

“So, what if I do?”

Your lips parted in a bit of shock and embarrassment. That wasn’t the response you had expected. You weren’t even sure what you should say to that. You heard Ghost chuckle, watching as your usual cocky attitude faltered.

“Not so smart, now, hm?” he teased.

You tried to shake it off, but the sticky feeling of his pupil-blown eyes staring down at you after taking your joke and throwing it back in your face shrouded your insouciant demeanor.

Did he mean what he said? Or was he just trying to catch you off guard?

Before you were forced to either acknowledge what he said, assuming his words were honest or teasing, Soap and Gaz burst through the door.

Ghost gave you one last wistful look before dropping his arm and moving into the living room. You were left a little dumbfounded, shocked that you were so overwhelmed by his one, little sentence.

When you turned to meet the boys, Ghost was watching you from behind the couch, stripping his clothes off, his eyes unwavering as they suppressed you with their weight. When he finally tore his shirt off, exposing his bare chest, you had to look away. Your cheeks felt hot as you tried to listen to what Soap was saying to you.

Soap said your names several times before you blinked and refocused.

“Sorry, what?” You muttered. Soap raised his brows at you in concern.

“She’s a bit distracted today,” Ghost chimed in from the corner of the room.

He had a fresh shirt in hand but had yet to put it to use. You scowled at him.

When everyone was getting situated several minutes later, Ghost strolled past you before lowering his head to whisper in your ear. You got goosebumps all down your neck and arms. “Not s’fun bein’ on the receiving end, huh?”

You swallowed. “Didn’t know my words bothered you so much, Lt.”

He smirked under his mask, his eyes squinting as he did. “I wouldn't say ‘bothered’. More like…” he pondered for a brief moment, “aroused.”

You choked on your spit, trying to play it off as a cough, then spun on your heels to face him. But you were left with his back, he was already walking away. You knew this should have discouraged you—that you needed to just accept defeat from your lieutenant and not mess with him any further. But, unfortunately, this brief fault in your step didn’t deter you.

If that’s the game he wanted to play, so be it. And a terrible part of you hoped he wasn’t just trying to make you uncomfortable, but was being truthful.

part 2

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #mw3 #ghost mw3

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ajokeformur-ray · 10 months

Text

The breeze seems to whisper 'I love you' // Astarion x gn!reader / Tav

This is my first Astarion fic so I really hope I bring him justice; he deserves that and everything else which is good in life. It took me three days in total to fall head over heels for him, and this piece is dedicated to @ace-tarion for being such a sweetheart in this, as in everything. I love you, dude!❤️

I haven't played BG3, I know maybe 80% of the plot (tadpoles in brain = bad = travel to Baldur's Gate), I've watched a ton of Astarion clips, so apologies for any inaccuracies or inconsistencies. I'm just here for Astarion (though I'd love to play BG3, I don't have any technology capable of running it💔).

Content: You/Tav x Astarion (established relationship), canonical past for Astarion is hinted at and laced within narrative, cuddles, animals referred to as 'snacks' within mentions of Astarion (only a mention; no actual description of animal-feeding/mentions of anything pertaining to animals being fed on).

Summary: Night-time falls, your heart sinks into your stomach as surely as your body sinks into your bedroll, and you want cuddles from Astarion.

Word count: 1, 624.

I am accepting requests for Astarion ❤️ no smut and no pregnancy/birth/kids!!

You lay on the cold, hard ground. The earth is unforgiving, soaking up the day's sweat without offering any kind of reprieve. Stones and hard clumps of dirt dig into your back through the bedroll, the wind is slightly too cold and it penetrates your thin blanket, haphazardly thrown over you in an attempt to ward off the elements.

Everyone has a tent, except you, and you make it a point to lay as close to the fire as you can on the nights Astarion is out hunting; it wouldn't do to help yourself to his tent. He keeps his tent away from the others, though still adhering to the semi-circle layout chosen by the others around the campfire. He would not mind you letting yourself in to his tent, he would likely welcome returning to you there, and yet you cannot justify it even to yourself.

After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, he deserves every ounce of privacy and the security of knowing his tent is his own.

You sit up just enough to shuffle yourself closer to the fire, curling inwards as a shiver wracks your body. It isn't cold, necessarily, but your temperature is not conducive to a restful sleep. You lay on your back, gazing up at the stars which punctuate the sky, breaking up the inky black and blues with pinpricks of white, yellow, and some dull spots of grey from the stars which died many eons ago and are now fading from the sky.

You promise yourself you'll try to remember their placement in the sky.

Despite the best of intentions, you know that you won't.

Your vision goes blurry at the edges as you continue staring up at the night sky, looking for any constellations you recognise by way of finding yourself a bedtime story to recount as you try to fall asleep. The leaves on the trees sway gently in the breeze, and your mind wanders, as it so often does, to Astarion. Your sweet vampire, who simultaneously breaks your heart and put it back together in the same moment every time you uncover more of who he is, more of his past.

Oh, but you love him.

Of its own accord does your body take a long, deep breath in, your heart sinking into your stomach as surely as your body melts into the bedroll. All of your thoughts of Astarion and all of your feelings for him are safe inside yourself, and they serve you now in warming you from the inside out.

Your eyes slide closed, and if you press your forehead closer into your blanket, you can almost tell yourself that you can feel Astarion lying down beside you, you can smell bergamot and feel his silver hair tickle your cheeks, you can feel his fingers intertwined with yours, your legs tangled together, his crimson eyes upon your face so intently fixed like he's scared to blink in case you disappear before his eyes, leaving him clutching only the cold night air, his equally cold body pressed against every line of yours...

You smile to yourself and burrow deeper into your blanket, feeling sleepier, warmer and closer to your rest by the second. Thoughts of Astarion flood your mind and you curl up tighter, as if to keep all these thoughts right where they are. You know if you open your eyes that you'll be alone; you know not where Astarion is this night, but you know he is trying to sate his hunger with the snacks which live in the forest.

So you keep your eyes shut.

As you allow yourself to slip further into your threshold consciousness, you wonder what Astarion would say to you if he returned at this very moment...

"Hello, sweet. Gods, you are beautiful."

You smile again and squeeze your blanket ever tighter to you. Yes, he would probably say something like -

Wait.

Was that - ?

With great caution do you open your eyes, ready to slam them shut again once you see that Astarion isn't there, that he didn't just speak to you. But instead of the cold hard truth slamming into you, flowers bloom in your heart because Astarion is here, looming over you, his silver curls seeming to be glowing in the soft moonlight. His crimson eyes seem black, his charming smirk soft at the edges as he gazes down at you with obvious fondness, vulnerable such as it is.

Of all the stars above me, this one's the prettiest, you think to yourself, and you open your eyes wider to better enjoy the view.

Astarion's smirk melts until it becomes a smile as he kneels down beside you, one of his arms reaching out to brush a leaf away from your face. His fingers ghost across your skin, and you shiver. "Thank you, darling. I know I'm beautiful. Not enough people mention it." His joke fades into vulnerability, as it so often does around you.

But it is no matter. You always meet him where he is, and right now it is no exception.

You smile at Astarion, all of the love for him shining in your eyes until they look like molten galaxies, and he swears he feels his heart, which stopped working centuries ago, skip a beat. You are unguarded where you lay in your threshold consciousness, not embarrassed to have spoke aloud your thoughts, and Astarion wonders if the old saying, that love makes fools of people, is true. You lay at the foot of a vampire, at the foot of a predator, smiling at him, physically and emotionally vulnerable, completely unguarded. Most others at the camp are asleep, Astarion can hear, and yet here you are...

Wait. Why are you awake?

"Darling," Astarion's voice is a hush and you strain your ears to be able to hear him. He bends closer to you to accommodate, anticipating your needs before you fully register them yourself, "Why aren't you sleeping? No harm shall befall you when I'm here." Long ago, he had sought your protection, but now he wanted you both to be safe. If this is how the mighty fall, then Astarion must admit that he is happy he lost his balance. He quite likes the view from down here.

You shake your head and shuffle closer still, unable to get close enough to your most beloved vampire. "Can't sleep without you." I just want to be held.

Oh, help him, but this is devastating in its simplicity. His undead heart bleeds and words have brought Astarion to the point where they run dry. Instead, he stands, and reaches a hand out to you. The message is clear - he wants you to accompany him to his tent, he wants to carve a piece of heaven out with you amongst all the chaos unleashed, he wants to hold and to be held.

Astarion just wants you, and who are you to deny him?

One of your hands slips into his while the other pulls the blanket away from you and Astarion's smile widens as he effortlessly pulls you up to stand beside him. You bend to scoop up your bedroll, and follow Astarion into your tent. The door flap flutters in the wind as Astarion releases it, and it settles in place like a butterfly finding a flower.

You find yourselves easily, your bedroll dumped next to Astarion's, pushed up close until his bedroll becomes a double. It's a well established routine for the two of you, with you spending more nights here than you don't. You never enter his tent if he isn't here, and you certainly never come in without his permission. One day, Astarion will find the words to convey his appreciation for your concern, but until then, he will remind you at every chance he finds that you are always welcome. He finds it greatly ironic that you seek permission to enter space and he, a vampire, does not. He knows he is welcome, wanted, cherished, loved.

It took some work for the both of you to get here, but his months with you are the counterweight to the hell he escaped from.

He'll never be able to thank you enough, he has no idea what he is doing, but perhaps this is a start.

Somehow, through the fuzziness of denied sleep, you end up back in bed, your blanket around you and Astarion's still chest under your head. He lays beneath you like he is patiently waiting for you to make yourself comfortable, and you take the opportunity to wind both of your arms around his waist and squeeze, pulling yourself up just enough to be able to bury your face in his neck. One of your legs slips between his, anchoring the two of you together.

Slowly, like he's afraid to move too quickly in case you disappear within his grasp and leave Astarion holding nothing but the cold empty night air, his hands settle upon your back and a sigh which seems to come from deep within him spells peace for the both of you. "This is nice," Astarion's voice rumbles through your ear and you press yourself ever closer to him, unable to get close enough. Your arms constrict around him again and you feel yourself smile as all those sleepy dreams you were having earlier are now here, beneath you, wrapped around you. As you hold on tighter, so too does Astarion, until the two of you are so completely intertwined that the elements cannot reach you. He has no body temperature and yet you are the comfiest and the warmest you have ever been.

Safe.

This time, Astarion doesn't tell you that you accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion comfort #astarion fluff #bg3 x reader #bg3

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 8 months

Text

Temptation - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 2

Pairing: Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

Part 1, Part 3

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You're Quinn's best friend, who can't hold back their urges for Ethan any longer.

A/N - I had a few requests for a part 2, so here it is! Thank you guys for reading:)

The day was dragging by incredibly slow as you waited for Quinn to leave for her date. The sexual tension kept building every time you had an interaction with Ethan. He was in the living room playing video games, as the two of you were trying to find her phone.

“It probably slipped between the cushions,” you suggested, as she continued her search.

“Ethan, move,” she said, remembering that his current spot was where she was last sitting.

“You could ask a little nicer,” he said, continuing to play his game.

“Ethan, please move. I need my phone,” she said. He sighed, pausing the game.

Once he’d moved and she continued her search, he walked up behind you.

“I can’t wait to have you all to myself,” he whispered in your ear. A blush crept up on your cheeks.

You glanced over to Quinn, who was now on the floor feeling around for her phone underneath the couch.

“She leaves in an hour,” you whispered, your eyes still on your friend. You felt his hand run over your hip, but it was quickly pulled away as Quinn cheered to herself.

“Found it,” she said, holding up the phone. “Help me get ready.”

As the two of you were in her room, and she’d already changed out of four different outfits, she was really trying to convince you to come with her.

“His friend is so hot, though,” she said, once she’d finally decided on what to wear.

“You’ve told me this, but I still don’t want to go,” you said with a small laugh.

“You were just complaining the other day about how you haven’t had sex in months,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Plus, my loser brother will probably be hitting on you all night.”

“So what if he does?” flew out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Wait…Do you have a thing for my brother?” she asked, a look of disgust on her face.

“No,” you lied, “I’m just saying, it doesn’t bother me if he does. He’s got a crush, no big deal.”

After Quinn was ready and her date was outside, you walked with her to the door. You passed the living room to see Ethan still in front of the tv, intently playing the game he was playing earlier. She paused and looked at you before walking out the door.

“If he tries anything, I’ll kill him,” she said, referring to her brother.

“Please, you and I both know how innocent he is,” you smirked at her, “You look great! Be safe, babe.”

As she made her way to the car and you closed the door, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist from behind. You smiled at the feeling, but waited to see Quinn leave before you turned around to kiss him. The last thing you wanted was for her to run back inside and see you kissing her brother.

“I’m innocent, huh?” he asked, pushing you against the door. His hand traveled from your hip, over your chest, and up around your neck.

“Fuck,” you whispered, the light squeeze he gave your throat making you throb between your legs.

“I’ll show you how innocent I am,” he said lowly with lust-filled eyes.

He lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his room. The way he was kissing you had your head spinning, the intensity of it stronger than the night before.

Once you were in his room, he held you in place up against the wall. He started to trail kisses down your neck, and you bit your bottom lip to hold in your moans. As you felt his erection pressing against you, you moved your hips against him, trying to give your clit a little friction.

He gasped as he pulled you away from the wall and set you down on your feet, leading you back to his bed. Once you were laying across the comforter, he stopped to observe you. Your fast breathing, the way the glow from the sunset lit your eyes up as it poured through his window, the way you were reaching for him. He’d be lying if he said his crush wasn’t turning into actual feelings.

“Ethan, I need you,” you whined, as he crawled in the bed to hover over you.

“Where do you need me, baby?” he said, as you grabbed one of his hands, leading it to your clothed pussy.

As he rubbed you through the material, you were still trying to keep in the sounds that kept trying to escape your mouth.

“Don’t hold back, let me hear you,” he whispered, placing kisses along your jawline.

The sounds that were flooding out of your mouth made him harder than he already was. He pulled his hand away to lift your shirt up, pulling it over your head. He reached his hand into one of your bra cups, his large hand gently squeezing you. You lifted up a little, reaching back to unhook it, so he would have better access to your chest.

His mouth placed gentle kisses down your neck and chest, stopping at each breast to place kisses to your nipples. He kissed further down, grabbing onto the leggings, pulling those and your panties down in one swift motion.

He pulled his shirt off as he settled between your legs, gently squeezing the flesh of your thighs. His hands inched closer and closer to your dripping core, the anticipation making your heart race. Two of his fingers rubbed up and down your clit, before he slid those fingers into you with ease.

“That feels so good,” you moaned out, as he curved his fingers just right. He leaned forward, mouth latching onto your clit. Your legs started to shake at his actions, your orgasm building quickly inside of you. Your hand reached down to his head, running your fingers through his hair. You gently tugged it, causing him to moan against your clit. The vibrations from his moan sent you over the edge, him holding your hips down as the waves of your orgasm made you shake.

“I think I like having my hair pulled,” he said with a laugh as he sat up, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

You smirked at him as you grabbed one of his biceps, pulling him closer to you.

“I wonder what else you like,” you said, as he slid his sweatpants halfway down his thighs.

He lined up at your entrance, gently sliding inside you. You both gasped at the feeling, him loving the way you felt around him, and you loving the way he filled you up.

His thrusts got faster as he started to pound into you, you moving your hips with his. As he hovered over you, you ran your hands down his back. The closer you got to another orgasm, your nails drug across his skin. He gasped at the feeling.

“Keep doing that,” he said, grabbing one of your legs and putting it over his shoulder.

One of his hands reached town to tease your clit as he felt you start to tighten around him. You came with a cry as he drilled into you. He started to chase his own orgasm, when you slid your nails back down his back a little harder than before.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, pulling out and releasing his cum all over your stomach.

After he grabbed a towel and helped clean you up, you snuggled up to him.

“I really like this,” you whispered, your fingers tracing across his chest.

“Me too. Not just the sex, though. I wish I had a chance with you,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“You do,” you said, as you sat up to look at him.

“Not really…I mean, my sister would never let it happen,” he said, looking down.

“What if she doesn’t know about it?” you smirked as he looked up.

“What about dates and stuff?” he asked, and you could tell he really wanted to have the full experience of you being his.

“Quinn doesn’t have to know,” you said, “at least not right now.”

He pulled you into a kiss, and you started to realize how sweaty you were from the amazing sex you’d just had.

“I’m going to take a shower, you wanna join me?” you asked, jumping up and heading towards Quinn and Ethan’s shared bathroom.

You turned on the water, adjusting it to the perfect temperature before stepping in. You saw him through the glass as you stood under the water.

“You coming?” Your playful tone had him smiling as he opened the shower door.

You grabbed your loofa that you keep at Quinn’s, lathering it in your body wash. As you started to rub it against your body, Ethan took the loofa out of your hand and started to do it himself. The sweet intimacy of his actions made your heart flutter. He gently washed your body, kissing the freshly cleaned skin after the water washed the suds away. After you were clean, you grabbed his loofa, and started to clean him. As you walked around him to wash his back, you gasped.

“What?” he asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

“You have so many scratches down your back right now,” you said, running your fingers over the raised skin. “I really did a number on you, huh?”

“More than you even know,” he said, turning around to kiss you under the water.

You placed gentle kisses down his neck as he held you close. You soon felt his hard cock pressing against you. You reached down, stroking him as a small moan left his lips. You gently pushed him back out of the direct flow of the water, before dropping to your knees. Your eyes connected with him as you licked his tip, before taking him in your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered as you bobbed your head. You felt his hand reach down to hold your head as you moved. He soon started to move his hips a little as you started to gag around him. The sight of you on your knees in front of him had his orgasm quickly approaching. You could tell he was close by how fast he was breathing, so you took him as far back in your throat as you could. As you gagged around him, his eyes started flutter as he came.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he said as you stood up.

“It isn’t fair if I’m the only one getting head,” you shrugged, as you shut off the shower.

After you both dried off and had clean clothes on, you and Ethan were trying to decide what you wanted for dinner.

“Let’s just order pizza. It’s quick and I’m starving,” you said, as he pulled out his phone to order it.

The two of you started to watch a movie as you waited for the pizza to arrive. You weren’t sure what you were watching, because you and Ethan spent your alone time talking and learning more about each other. It wasn’t long before he got the notification that the pizza had arrived, and as you both sat at the table eating, you got a text from Quinn.

Quinn: Hey, I won’t be back ‘til the morning. Is Ethan being weird?

You: Oh stop, quit being so worried about him. Have a good night, let me know if you need me!

“Quinn won’t be home until tomorrow morning,” you said, as Ethan smiled.

“Sleep in my bed with me tonight,” he said. As tempting as that was, what if Quinn decided to come home early?

“I’ll sleep in your room for a few hours, but if Quinn comes home and I’m not in her bed, that’ll be bad,” you said, taking another bite of your food.

“You’re right.”

After you both finished eating, you went back to the living room. You talked about everything, from your biggest fears to what you wanted to do with your lives. The plans you had for your future lined up with his, and it was crazy how much you had in common with him. You started to get sleepy, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You want to go to bed?” he asked, you lazily nodded.

After you both brushed your teeth, you crawled into his bed beside him. He wrapped his arms around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the sunlight peering through his curtains.

“Fuck,” you whispered, sitting up and checking the time on your phone. Ethan stirred awake at the loss of contact, rubbing his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, as you quickly jumped up.

“I never set my alarm.” You quickly kissed him before walking out of the room, going to Quinn’s room.

As you opened her door, you heard the front door unlock in the otherwise silent house. You quickly ran in and jumped in her bed, trying your best to make it look like you’d slept in it last night. She soon walked in, and your heart started to race.

“Oh cool, you’re up. I’m hungry. Want breakfast?” she asked, her hair an absolute mess from the night before. You giggled at her appearance, as you hopped back out of her bed.

“So, how was last night?” you asked, as you mixed pancake batter.

“It was good. I think I’m going to go out with him again soon,” she said, rummaging through the cabinet, hoping to find something that would get rid of her headache.

“I’m happy you had fun,” you said.

At that moment, Ethan walked into the kitchen with just his sweatpants on. He started talking about how he got the best sleep ever the night before, and you were so thankful that Quinn couldn’t see the smile on your face as you flipped the pancakes. Ethan walked over to a cabinet to get a glass for some orange juice, when you glanced over and noticed all the scratches down his back. You were hoping Quinn wouldn’t notice.

“What the fuck?!” she said, glancing back and forth between you and Ethan.

#ethan landry smut #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut

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tenofmuses · 8 months

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Free Witchcraft Resources for Beginners

A couple months ago I made a post shouting out the fact that witchcraft doesn’t require any money to get started (or to be practiced, for that matter), and I had a few people ask me about what they can do that’s free, especially as a beginner, so I wrote up this post. I was lost and broke when I was getting started with my craft, and it was really difficult to find tips for beginners that weren’t just “buy these things!” I’m hoping this will be useful for people who are looking for a place to begin.

So. You’re interested in witchcraft and would like to find out more. Maybe you keep seeing those “crystals/herbs/books/etc. beginner witches should have” posts, and you’re frustrated, because you want to begin your practice, but don’t have the money for those supplies. I was once in that spot, and even now that I’m five years into my practice, I have rarely purchased any of the supplies witchtok deems to be fundamental. Here are some places you can begin instead. Let’s get started!

Info continues below.

Foundations

By foundations, I’m referring to things that aren’t explicitly witchcraft, but that I have found very beneficial within my own practice.

1. Before anything, I recommend asking yourself a simple question: why do I want to practice witchcraft, and what do I hope to get out of it? You may not know for sure yet, and your answer will likely change over time, but having some intentions going in can be helpful when you’re in the early stages of research. When I was starting out, I felt very overwhelmed by the amount of info out there, so if you have a bit of an idea of what you’re specifically interested in, that can be helpful to get you going.

2. Meditation: not all witches meditate, but a lot of the skills you develop through meditation can be helpful within witchcraft. You can try out secular meditation (apps like Balance and Headspace, as well as Insight Timer—the former has a mix of secular and spiritual meditations), or you can find a witchcraft-specific guided meditation on YouTube. For neurodivergent folks out there, I recommend looking into active meditation, which I’ve found to be quite beneficial for myself.

For me, it’s always important to remain grounded when I’m doing any spiritual practice, and meditation is a good skill you can work on to help with that. I also find that having a background in meditation can be really helpful later down the line when/if you are attempting visualization and/or astral projection, witch’s flight, and so forth.

3. Journaling: another thing that isn’t specifically witchcraft-related, but is an important skill to harness, on my opinion. To me, it’s crucial to be in touch with what I’m feeling (especially when it comes to doing spellwork), and journaling is one great way to do that. If you’re stuck and don’t know where to begin, look up witchcraft (or general) journal prompts on here or somewhere else. A lot of the ones that come up will be shadow work, which can be intense, so only do what feels comfortable for you.

I’d also like to note that automatic writing/drawing is an entirely free option if you’re interested in communing with spirits or deities. Essentially it involves getting into a trance-like state (usually in a dark room only lit by candlelight or similar—this is to avoid distractions) with a piece of paper and pen, and you write or draw everything that comes to your head without thinking about it. And then you go back and see what sort of messages you may be receiving. It’s a bit hard to explain and I’m not very experienced in it myself, but it’s something worth looking into if it sounds interesting to you!

4. Look at what you have, instead of what you don’t: a lot of beginner witch resources will list specific items that you should have, without really explaining why. And without that knowledge of how/why having an item is important, you might find your Must Have crystal sitting unused on a shelf somewhere. So instead of focusing on the items you want or feel like you should have, look at what you do have. Are there plants or herbs in your house/yard that you feel drawn to? Do you have a collection of cool rocks and stones? How do these items make you feel?

For me, a large part of my craft is my belief in Animism (the belief that all living things have innate spiritual qualities, like a soul, spirit, or specific energy) and this can play into the way you interact with the natural world if it’s a belief you also subscribe to. Try and feel the presence of a plant to see if it gives you any specific feeling. It does? Great! Now you have a correspondance for that plant. And it’s even better than the correspondances you’ll get in a book because it’s based on your own personal connection and intuition. That’s what is most important.

5. When in doubt, use your intuition. You might find a source that says cinnamon should be used for protection. Another will say it should be used for abundance spells. What matters the most is what you think about an herb/plant/stone/colour, or whatever else you may utilize. I recommend to start keeping a list of what you associate these things with. It can take awhile to build up a personalized list, but once you have one, it’ll be a lot more useful than what a correspondances book says to do.

6. Scour your pantry and get cooking: are you wanting to try out a spell but you haven’t bought the ingredients? Look in your pantry. You may be surprised by how many commonly used witchcraft herbs you find in there. And if you have been starting to associate certain herbs or spices with specific feelings or energies, that’s a great way to get started with creating your own spell.

You can do a spell in many ways, but when I was starting out, one of my favourite ways was to incorporate a certain herb or spice into food I made. Say you’re making a soup and maybe you want a bit of protection, so you add some ground pepper with the intention of that pepper protecting you as you stir it into the soup. Same goes for any other ingredient you’d like to use. A little intention goes a long way!

7. Dedicate your actions, time, or energy: if you’re interested at all in working with deities, ancestors, and other spirits but don’t have the time/space to build an altar—or maybe you aren’t sure how involved you want to be with this part of witchcraft—you can devote an action to the entity. This can be simple. For example, when I worked with Apollo, I would use taking my meds and vitamins as an act of devotion to him. This is an offering. And offerings can be anything you want them to be. They don’t have to be expensive or fancy!

It’s also important to note that you do not need to work with deities or spirits to be a witch. You don’t even have to believe in them. Many witches are atheists or don’t work with any deities at all. But for those who are interested, simple offerings can be a good place to start.

8. Practice energy work: in my view, energy work is the most important skill to learn for your craft, since so many things build off of it. And with energy work, you don’t need to spend any amount of money on it. All you need is yourself, your intuition, and anything else—I mean that quite literally, you can practice feeling the energy of other people, pets, trees, buildings, foods, socks, your favourite pen, and whatever else you think of!

Once you get to know the energy of the things around you, you can more effectively utilize them as tools within your practice (this builds off of the intuition point I made earlier).

For example, as a child I lived in a house that was surrounded by cedar trees. It was a place where I felt very safe. To this day, when I see or smell a cedar tree, I feel safe and protected. You can read this any way you’d like—to me it’s both a spiritual and psychological phenomenon—but this is one example of sensing energy.

As a witch, you can practice that skill and use it to get to know the tools you’d like to use within your own craft (the things that connect to you personally, not what you’re told you should connect with). This isn’t an easy skill by any means, so if it doesn’t come naturally to you, that’s perfectly okay!

For more on this subject, I recommend two books: Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Kimmerer (more on animism in particular) and Psychic Witch by May Auryn (lots of exercises to practice working with and sensing energy).

Where to Go for Learning

After you’ve thought a bit about some of the above, or skipped it altogether if it doesn’t suit you, you’re probably wanting some good resources that will actually tell you how to do the witchcraft thing. But before that, I want to reiterate again that this is your practice, and you should only do what you are interested in. So take what you want and leave what you don’t.

I’m going to point you in three primary directions for learning good information: books, podcasts, and YouTube.

But first, I want to issue a massive disclaimer for the YouTube information (and some books, for that matter). You should not have one sole source for your information. Books that have bibliographies are always the most trustworthy sources. And even though I trust the information coming from the YouTubers I’ll mention—especially because I’ve read similar information in several witchcraft books—don’t take their word at face-value. Be critical of what you’re told. Believe what you believe. This is a skill you’ll learn over time. It can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it will get easier to discern what’s good info vs. bad info, over time.

Before you get started, I highly recommend watching this helpful video by HearthWitch with info on how to vet your witchcraft sources: link.

Books

In my view, books are the Best source of information, period. Anyone can publish an article or video online, but not everyone can publish a book. So there tends to be a bit more reliable info in witchcraft books.

As far as knowing what book you should begin with, there are lots of lists out there for beginners, and I recommend just looking at one of those lists and picking what sounds interesting to you. Take what you like and leave what you don’t.

Most of the YouTubers I’ve listed below have videos recommending books for beginners.

If you’re interested in British folk witchcraft, I started out with Folk Witchcraft by Roger J. Horne and it was a brilliant beginners guide that I recommend to anyone who is interested in that branch of witchcraft.

As always, while you read witchcraft books, be critical of the information you are presented with. Unfortunately, lots of witchcraft books (especially the classic ones) can be rooted in concepts like bioessentialism, colonialism, and racism. My recommendation is to not take any author’s word as gospel and to use your critical thinking skills when reading witchcraft books.

Where I live, books are EXPENSIVE. And when you’re just starting out in your practice, you might not have the money or ability to go out and buy a book just yet. Maybe you’re still unsure if witchcraft is right for you. Or maybe you’re in the “broom closet.” Whatever the reason, here are some free places to find books.

1. The public library: a bit obvious, but a great resource to look at, because you never know what your library might have. Libraries are the best. And entirely free!

2. Library apps like Libby or Overdrive: especially helpful if you don’t want to bring home a physical witchcraft book, or if your branch doesn’t have any copies of what you’re looking for. You can also get some audiobooks on there.

3. Archive.org: aka the web archive. Entirely free and entirely legal, this works as an online library service where you can check out a book for a bit of time right from your computer. Sometimes you can download PDFs as well. I’ve found a lot of my favourite witchcraft books on there, so if you have a specific title in mind, search it there.

YouTube

First, as a bit of a caveat before recommending you to watch YouTube videos on witchcraft: in my view, books are the best source of information for any witch, as they are able to contain a large degree of nuanced and research-informed information. But books aren’t a simple solution for everyone, and I’ve learned a lot from informed YouTubers over the years (in fact, like many witches, I was first exposed to witchcraft via Harmony Nice on YouTube!).

I’m including a list here of witch YouTubers that I personally recommend because I have found that their content aligns with information I have read in books and other research-informed sources over the years, and because I find them to be generally reliable.

I want to note here that this list is rather biased, as I tend to watch witchcraft YouTubers whose practices mirror my own in some ways. So most of these practitioners have practices informed by European folk witchcraft, and are not very diverse as a result. If any practitioners have further recommendations to add on, especially for practitioners of colour and practices that are different from mine, please do so!

My recommendations:

ChaoticWitchAunt: folk witchcraft, specifically in the Italian tradition, some great beginner content, info on working with saints and spirits.

TheWitchOfWonderlust: death magic, spellwork, great beginner content, lots of excellent info on working with spirits.

HearthWitch: truly a well of information on British witchcraft, beginner videos on any topic you can think of, q&a livestreams, and there’s even a video on vetting witchcraft sources that I really recommend for beginners.

The Redheaded Witch: folk witchcraft and folklore, spirit and ancestor work, daily witchcraft ideas, some beginner videos.

TheGreenWitch: such an excellent resource for herbal/green witchcraft, videos on spellwork, ingredients, tools, and more.

Mintfaery: lots of beginner information, videos on working with the fae, nature witchcraft, and lots of fun witchy days in the life.

Ella Harrison: German folk witchcraft, great beginner resources, including some more niche traditional craft topics like witch’s ladders.

The Norse Witch: info on Norse witchcraft and Heathenry, Norse paganism, and some content about astrology.

simplywitched: lots of great everyday witchcraft content, pagan witchcraft, more vlog style.

Warrior Witch Nike: witchy book reviews, paganism, deity work, some astrology content.

Mhara Starling: the place to go for anyone interested in Welsh witchcraft and folk magic related to Wales.

Alwyn Oak: lots of witch’s guides, especially relating to sabbats (those popularized in Wicca), forest witchcraft, gorgeous videos.

Ivy The Occultist: chaos magick and lots of interviews with practitioners from a variety of paths/backgrounds.

Shadow Harvest: personal day in the life witchy content, some videos looking at working with dark goddesses and deity work in general.

Note: some of these YouTubers have written their own witchcraft books geared towards beginners, so if you enjoy their videos and want to learn more, check those out.

Podcasts

The Astrology Podcast: not specifically witchcraft, but if you want to learn about astrology in detail, this is an excellent place to begin. Link goes to YouTube.

Books and Broomsticks: all kinds of good info, especially pertaining to folk magic, witch guests invited on to share more about their own practice. Link goes to Spotify.

Southern Bramble: A Podcast of Crooked Ways: a variety of witchcraft related topics, interviews, and discussions, often revolving around folk magic and traditional craft—interviews show different traditions. Link goes to Spotify.

New World Witchery - The Search for American Traditional Witchcraft: what it says on the tin; various topics and conversations through an American traditional/folk magic lens by the author of the (amazing) book with the same name. Link goes to Spotify.

Salty Witches Podcast by Cat & Cauldron: traditional witchcraft through a modern lens, another podcast that has a wide variety of topics covered. Link goes to Spotify.

—

As always, if anyone has any additional (free!) resources to add onto these ones, please do so.

Good luck to all of the beginner witches who are embarking on their spiritual journeys, and I hope some of these tips have been helpful! :)

-Em

#been working on this post since october first which is just crazy…it took So Long #I searched everywhere for info like this when I was a beginner but all I found were lists of things to purchase #which isn’t helpful when you’re broke and living through a recession!#I hope this hopes someone out there <3 #witchcraft resources #witchcraft 101 #witchcraft info #beginner witchcraft #witchcraft #witchblr #beginner witch #folk witchcraft #baby witch #resources #my post

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runawrites-blog · 11 months

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Protection (Boba Fett x Reader)

Summary: Five times the people in the palace saw how protective Boba was of you and one time you got to protect him. (5+1; Gender Neutral Reader) Word Count: 3,325 Warnings: Mild Violence, Disrespectful Language Directed at Reader, Assassination Attempt on Boba, Fire, No Y/N, Petnames (Cyar'ika, Mesh'la) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35277751

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Your place at the palace had been a topic of discussion ever since Boba had taken over Tatooine. You had been by his side from the start, arriving soon after him and Fennec. And ever since then, people have been talking. Some assumed you were his spouse, others questioned if you were a pleasure slave – and questioned why the man so against slavery was keeping you as one – and some others thought you were an advisor.

And your interactions with people at the court, diplomats on visits, and the king himself made things no clearer. You were friendly and polite to the others at court as though you were a worker like them, never seeing yourself as above them and always treating them with respect. When there were diplomats visiting, you were next to Boba, making deals and talking politics. And when there was peace and celebration at the palace, you were by his side, holding onto his arm, sitting in his lap on the throne, or affectionately talking to him.

When you weren’t around, like this time, Boba was sitting on the throne alone, Fennec next to him. She was talking to him in a low voice while he surveyed the room. Perhaps he was looking for you, some of the guests mused.

And then, you walked into the room, quickly approaching the throne. Your usual air of confidence seemed off with how fast you approached Boba to grasp his hand and sit on the arm of the throne. Boba noticed the changes in your demeanour, too, and let go of your hands to place one of his on the small of your back, pulling you a little closer until you were leaning against him.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded at Boba, a little too quickly and vehemently for it to not be suspicious. “I’m fine. I just had an unpleasant run-in with one of the guards.”

“What?” Boba hissed and let go of you to grasp at your arm and examine you. When he spotted the marks on your wrists he seemed furious and the people in the court quieted down. “Did they touch you?”

“He tried to-- tried to threaten me. He grabbed my arm and-- and held me to the wall. I managed to free myself but that other guard, she was just standing by and she didn’t help me.” You recounted, stumbling over your words. “On the contrary – she egged him on.”

“What guards?” Boba asked, grabbing your hand once again, watching your shoulders relax at the gesture. “What are their names?”

“I don’t know their names but I could point them out to you.”

“No one touches you.” He hissed. “You are my riduur and no one is allowed to treat you like that, with the intent to harm you!”

“Boba, please calm down. I’m fine.”

“Do you want them dead?”

You quieted down before slowly sliding off the arm of the throne and into his lap, arms wrapping around his arm. His protectiveness seemed to make you feel so much more at ease as you inched ever so closely.

“Cyar’ika, do you want them dead?” Boba asked one more, though his hand found its way to your hair quickly. “I will surely punish them but I want your opinion on what they deserve.”

“No.” You said softly. “I just want to be sure that I never have to see them again.”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

---

II.

You were his spouse. He had said so himself. If you two were actually married or if he just referred to you as such out of possessiveness or sentimentality was still unclear. But nevertheless, people were now sure of his romantic relationship with you. And they acted accordingly.

After the guards that had harassed you were sent away, people worried to meet the same fate and kept their distance. They could tell that it saddened you, could see the disappointment in your eyes and the way you tried to talk to the other people in the palace, but they didn’t want to risk it.

With everyone in the palace being so careful around you and trying to avoid being punished by Boba, it came to no surprise that you were delighted by the news that some sort of negotiator was coming to visit the palace. Now Boba hadn’t told you the exact reason they were coming but you knew enough about them, their plans to trade with Tatooine and their customs to entertain them during the fest that would follow the negotiations.

The people in the palace watched as you laughed away with one of the negotiators, telling her about how wonderfully Tatooine had developed since Boba had come to power. And they also watched as Boba eyed you with a fond expression, helmet on the arm of the throne and a soft smile on his face.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until things got out of hand. A guest stumbled and fell against one of the lights that were illuminating the throne hall, kicking loose a chain of events that would lead to the room being engulfed in flames. The light broke and the fire spread over the curtains and few wooden structures, quickly lighting them ablaze. People panicked immediately, cramming to get out of the room.

“Follow me!” You instructed the negotiator. “Keep close to the wall so you don’t get pushed around.”

“Thank you.” She said and grabbed onto your wrist, letting you lead her toward the exit. “Thank you so much.”

With a bit of difficulty, you managed to get her to the door and ushered her outside. You were about to turn back to look for Boba when a cracking sound from just above you caught your attention. And you barely had the time to look up before a large wooden beam came crashing toward you. Instinctively, you cowered, covering your head to shield it but the expected blow never came.

When you looked up, you found Boba next to you, arm angled and held up, keeping the beam from crushing you. Quickly you moved away from the wooden beam and watched Boba drop it to the floor before he turned, grasping your arms.

“You need to leave.”

“What about you?” You asked desperately, trying to find his eyes through the helmet he now had on again. “You need to get out!”

“I need to help put out the fire.” He said and pushed you toward the door. “Go, get to safety and wait for me!”

Despite your initial hesitance, you left, figuring that if you were gone he would have one less person to worry about and could concentrate on getting himself to safety. Yet, no one could deny the worry on your face or the tears in your eyes as you watched more and more people leave the palace, Boba not amongst them.

And when he eventually came outside, the people of the court all watched you sprint toward him before hurling yourself into his arms. He caught you with little difficulty and held you tightly as you took a few deep breaths until he spoke up to calm you down.

“Don’t worry, Cyar’ika. I’m here now.”

---

III.

People knew that Boba was protective. So it came to no surprise that when you came back from a diplomatic mission, bloodied up and covered in bruises, he was up in arms. You had entered the throne room, the helmet you wore when flying under your arm, your hair a mess, your face covered in bruises as you looked up at the throne.

Before Boba could say anything you spoke, voice hoarse. “The diplomatic mission went well. This is simply the result of someone ambushing my ship on the way back.”

“Cyar’ika, get up here now.”

Slowly, you made your way up and everyone in the court held their breaths. Boba grabbed you as soon as you had gotten close and pulled at your arm to get you close enough to examine the wounds.

“Where are you injured?”

“Just bruises and a few scraps mostly.”

“Mostly is not good enough, Mesh’la.” He said sternly. “Anything major?”

Gingerly, you moved your hand to gesture to your hip and Boba’s eyes wandered there before he frowned. There was an obvious stab wound at your hip but your belt had been pulled so tightly that it was stopping the bleeding. Shaking his head, Boba rose to his feet and everyone around watched in anticipation.

“Fennec, take over for me while I treat these wounds.” He said and looked back at you. “You are coming with me.”

“Love, I can take care of myself.” You said softly. “I just need a few stitches and I’m sure I can find someone else to do that. You have your duties.”

“I do have my duties. And protecting my riduur is one of them.”

---

IV.

Your screams of pain jarred everyone in the throne room and within seconds Boba was at his feet, Fennec not far behind as he hurried to help. But he didn’t get far before you came scrambling into the room and when you saw the two of them, you rounded their bodies to shield yourself, fumbling for your blaster before realising it wasn’t secured to your hip and swearing quietly. While Fennec readied her gun, aiming at the door, Boba turned around to you and took hold of your arms.

“What happened?”

“That-- that man who came to negotiate who-- you turned him down and he must have been pretty angry because he grabbed me from behind and tried to kriffing-- I don’t even know what his darn plan was and I don’t want to know!”

Boba stared at you in horror, realising that a man he had let into the palace had attempted to harm you. Quickly, he drew you close, his hand shielding the back of your neck as he held you. And then the man stumbled inside, clearly drunk and a bloodied knife in his hands. He looked beaten, as though you had gotten a few good hits in before he had gotten out his knife.

And as he took in the blood dripping from the knife, Boba froze and quickly pushed you back to examine you. There was a few cuts on your arms and chest area but nothing major. Still, the knowledge that someone had hurt you like that filled him with burning rage and he called out to Fennec to immobilise the man which she did without much trouble before turning back to Boba.

“What do you want me to do with him?” She asked, holding the man’s arms behind his back and looking up at the two of you. “Shoot him?”

“Shoot me?” The man slurred. “I can-- if you hadn’t turned down my deal, your little spouse wouldn’t have gotten it, Fett!”

Fennec eyed Boba out of the corner of her eyes, watching his body tense up as he kept a protective arm around you. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Lock him up! I’ll deal with him later.” Boba snapped and looked back at you once Fennec had begun to drag the man off. “What did he do? Did he touch you?”

“No, he just-- he got a few cuts and hits in but I’m fine.”

Boba looked at you for a long time before sighing quietly. “The man I let inside hurt you like this. How can you look at me with love in your eyes? Aren’t you angry?”

You shook your head very quickly, taking his hands into his. “It was not your fault. He attacked me. That has nothing to do with you, no matter what he said.”

“Do you need me to call someone to treat your wounds?”

“Please.”

---

It wasn’t just that Boba was protective of you. He also valued your opinion and despised it when others talked down to you. If a diplomat didn’t respect you, writing you off as nothing more than the king’s spouse or if an advisor scoffed at your opinions, not considering them, Boba would reprimand them. He demanded respect for you just as much as he demanded it for himself.

Most of the time, a stern reprimand or a reminder of your position was enough to shut any disrespect down fairly quickly. But on this particular day, two negotiators had come from a faraway planet, planning on trading with Tatooine. They had talked to Boba in the throne room, laying out their demands and offerings. The other people of the court stood by, watching the negotiations go down as they quietly mused about what outcome to expect.

It wasn’t until you had chimed in, leaning down to Boba from where you had been sitting on the arm of the throne, to remind him that their demands were fairly high for what they were offering, that one of the negotiators spoke up.

“I am certain that the great Boba Fett would rather decide himself than listen to the advice of a simple pleasure slave.”

Everything went quiet as soon as the words had left the woman’s mouth. You raised your head, looking down on her while Boba straightened up in his seat and Fennec cocked her head to the side a little, waiting for the man’s response. But you were quicker.

“If I was merely a pleasure slave – which I am not – it would be horribly embarrassing for your unattractive trade offer to be caught by the likes of me, wouldn’t you think so?” You asked in a cold tone of voice.

“Boba Fett, we implore you to agree to this offer.”

“Why should he?” You asked in slight disdain. “To rely on the harvest of a planet whose climate is unpredictable at best and unfit for agriculture at worse?”

“I can assure you that our planet can sustain a harvest.”

“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow. “Then how do you explain the countless people that have sought out refuge on Tatooine of all places after a drought or flood have wrecked their whole harvest? Then how do you explain that not even under the merciless regimes before Boba were your planet’s payments ever on time?”

“How dare you insinuate that we cannot pay you?”

“I am voicing my honest concern.” You said, mindful of everyone listening to you. “Your harvests are unreliable and you dare step before Boba with an offer like this?”

The woman shook her head at you. “I will not negotiate with a person who has found their way into the inner circle of the king by looks and no doubt the use of their body alone. I came to negotiate with Boba Fett.”

“Are you saying I used my body to get this position?” You questioned and stood from your place, aware of Boba’s eyes following you. “Or are you trying to deflect from the fact that you are offering a terrible deal?”

“How dare you? You are nothing but a pleasure slave, a common palace whore. And you dare speak to me like this?”

That’s when Boba stood, making everyone back up. The negotiator and her companion shut up, staring up at Boba in anticipation, frightened of what would happen next. He towered over them, his height accentuated by the fact that he stood on the pedestal the throne was placed on.

“How are you speak to my riduur in such a way?” He snapped, voice angry and loud. “And to think you did it because my spouse raised good points is just pathetic. Your planet is not fit for agriculture. You can barely feed your own people. There will be no trade for you with Tatooine!”

“But great Boba Fett--”

“Now leave my sight before I have you dragged out of the palace!”

---

+ I.

People knew that Boba was protective, that he was proud of being your spouse and that he seemed to genuinely care for you. But they also knew that you felt the same way about him. You loved the man, took pride in being his spouse and rarely left his side if you could help it.

Typically you could be found sitting on the throne’s arm, Boba’s lap or standing next to him. You were always trying to be close to him, talk to him or share your love for him. Like a shadow, you were always by his side.

And so you were also by his side when someone tried to assassinate him. It had been a normal day up until the early evening and everyone was gathered in the throne hall. You were as usual by Boba’s side, having long since migrated from the arm of the throne into his lap, idly running your fingers over his armour, head resting against his shoulder as he talked to you about upcoming plans.

The two of you paid little mind to the man that had entered sometime during the evening, assuming him to be another guest, and quickly gotten back to talking. Fennec had started to mingle with the people some time ago, leaving you and Boba to quietly enjoy each other’s company as he overlooked the people.

The stranger came closer to the throne, talking to a man there. You paid him no mind, still running your fingers over Boba’s armour, letting them run up and down his neck periodically as he recounted the meetings ahead.

Your eyes wandered across the room, looking at the man that was still coming closer. Some of the guests noticed the shift in your behaviour, watched as you sat up a little straighter, yet still keeping up your soft ministrations and listening to Boba.

Then, before anyone had even noticed anything, you sprung up from Boba’s lap and grabbed your blaster. No one even had the time to question your motives as you fired at the stranger, hitting his hand and making him drop the blaster he had reached for.

He tried to escape but you fired a shot into his foot, making him fall to his knees by the steps to the throne. Within seconds you were by his side, using your foot to keep in on the ground as the people stared in shock. Boba had risen to his feet and Fennec had come closer now.

“Let me go!”

“Tell me why you were raising your blaster at Boba.” You hissed. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I won’t tell you anything.”

Your foot moved, resting on his shoulders now. “You are the worst assassin I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!”

The man struggled against your foot but couldn’t get up. “Let me go!”

Huffing at his request you took your foot off his back. He quickly took the chance to get up but he only got to his knees because you quickly grabbed his arm, twisting it onto his back and then doing the same with the other one. Then you turned him so he could face Boba.

“Did you or did you not come here to assassinate Boba?”

“I-- I was forced to!” The man pleaded. “Please, don’t kill me. I was just-- I was forced to or otherwise, my family would have been in danger!”

“Now there’s the information we can use.” You said and let go of him, nodding at Fennec. “I’m sure Boba would like to question the man himself. Isn’t that right, Cyar’ika?”

Boba looked at you, as surprised by the pet name as he was by your quick reflexes but nodding at Fennec nonetheless. “Bring him to the cells. I will see to him later.”

Fennec nodded and quickly took the man away, glancing back to see you walking up to Boba and taking his face into your hands. Everyone watched as you examined him for any injuries before your shoulders dropped in relief when you found he was fine.

“Thank you for your quick thinking, Mesh’la.”

“All I want is for you to be safe, my love.”

#star wars #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #star wars x reader #boba fett #boba fett x reader #book of boba fett #the mandalorian #mandalorian #the book of boba fett #boba fett imagine #gender neutral reader #gn reader #writing #fanfiction #textpost #my writing

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callmerainman · 10 months

Text

Cameras | Reigen Arataka x fem!model!Reader

plot. The last thing you expected when you entered the office of Reigen Arataka, was to be head over heels for him. Reigen can't seem to believe it himself when Dimple points out that the beautiful model who came in his office for help is, in fact, flirting her way towards him. It's your first time chasing a man and not the other way around, and it's so much fun.

fandom. mob psycho 100

word count. 2.2k

tags. fem!reader, reader is a model, flirting, seducing, awkwardness, suggestive tones, implied sexual reference, oblivious Reigen Arataka, photoshoots, smoking, wingman Dimple.

part. 1/2

An elegant smile softly spread across your face, your hands touching your soft hair with delicacy, your legs crossed under the wooden desk. And, hard to ignore, your foot moving slowly in a circling motion. Your classy composure hides your real emotions so well, you're a woman of style. But, in reality, you're completely losing it.

Shit, he's handsome.

The blond man sitting in front of you is explaining his parcels and exorcism plans as he moves his hands left and right. He looks serious, professional, and focused. His name is Reigen Arataka, or The Greatest Psychic of the 21st Century. You didn't know anything about him until twenty minutes earlier, when you entered his office.

You work as a photo model in a well known modeling agency in Seasoning City. You recently started catwalks, but you're mainly featured on local fashion magazines covers and billboard signs across the city. Your career is going well, except for this feeling that you just can't shake off. In the last few months, every time you pose for a picture you feel a haunting presence weighing on your shoulders. It's like a cold, gloomy breeze. It didn't stop you from getting your work done, but it was more energy consuming than it should be. You didn't believe in ghosts, to be clear. But your friends suggested you call a psychic, and so you did. You chose the cheapest in town, just to give it a try. But nothing could have prepared you for this situation.

«So, considering the context, I think the best exorcism plan is the second in my list, miss»

You snap back to reality and quickly realize that you didn't listen to a single word he said. Too busy staring at the smooth gestures of his hands. You have to play it cool.

«How about you come with me to my next shooting? I have to get there in 30 minutes. Maybe you can take care of the problem on the spot. I'll be glad to pose for you if it can help, Reigen-san» you smile, resting your chin on your open palm.

It's weird. Usually men were the ones who chased you, and fell for you right on the spot. This is your first time being head over heels for a man, and at first sight too. You can't exactly pin point what it is that makes you twirl your hair around your index, and smile so intently. Maybe his ginger hair, or the way he articulates words. Or his grey suit and eccentric pink tie, and charismatic smile.

The man exudes sex. In sort of a pathetic, sketchy way.

«Fine by me» Reigen replies.

You clap your hands together and spark him a shiny smile «Great! Let's go then!»

As you go ahead to bring your car in front of the building, Reigen closes the office. Mob is at school and no clients are expected to come for the next few hours.

The conman trots down the stairs quickly so that he can go wait for you outside the building. But he feels a presence floating behind him.

«Oi, Reigen»

Reigen turns around and grumbles as his gaze meets a familiar green cloud.

«What, Dimple»

«That lady is most certainly hitting on you»

Reigen almost trips down the stairs. He quickly recollects himself as he stops in the middle of the stairwell.

«That's not true»

«Pff» the spirit spits «it's so obvious»

Reigen descends the stairs again, the sound of his shoes stomping on the floor booming in the echoey building.

«It's not obvious because she's not hitting on me! You're just saying it to make fun of me»

The green spirit floats backwards, in front of Reigen's face. He looks dead serious.

«Look man, I would never use such a poor excuse for a joke. I mean, a knockout of a model hitting on you? That would be too unrealistic!»

Reigen rolls his eyes and just keeps going, trying to ignore Dimple.

The latter agitates a little green arm in front of his face «Hellooo? She was literally eating you up with her preying eyes! Basically giggling and kicking her feet like a schoolgirl! And what about the "I'll be glad to pose for you~"»

Dimple channeled his most feminine, high-pitched voice to say that. Green little hands intertwined, eyes glittering and lashes fluttering. It pisses Reigen off.

«Miss (Y/N) is not hitting on me. And even if she were, obviously in a very parallel and distant world, I would never get my way with her. She's my client, and I'm a professional»

«Whatever you say dude...I warned you»

Dimple didn't pop out until later on, when you and Reigen get to your modeling agency. Everything is ready for today's photoshoot: lights, cameras, setting. As Reigen wanders around pretending to scan for spirits, you're approached by your publicist, Haru.

«Is he the male stripper we rented for Sakura's birthday?» she asks, pointing a finger towards Reigen.

«What? No! That's the psychic you suggested I call!» you exclaim.

«Oooh! Is he here to help you exorcise that spirit?»

«We don't know if there's a spirit yet, but he's here to help me out»

«And how are things going?»

«I want to sleep with him»

«(Y/N)!»

«I'm sorry, I can't help it!»

«Okay, I'll reschedule your Christmas jumpers shooting for next week. No big deal even if we don't do it today. Now go put some lingerie on»

«I love you so much, dearie»

In the end, there really was a spirit giving you a hard time during shootings. Or, to be specific, a curse. Dimple was able to detect it in no time, a cloud of gloomy, red smoke hovering over your shoulders. He absorbed it completely and you immediately felt the pressure on your back being released. Your pics came out perfect, flawless. You even put some extra work with that lingerie since you had a guest. And you did catch his brown eyes getting lost in the fabric of your garments, not without a sprinkle of guilt. It was a sight you yearned from men. Seeing them guilty for how mesmerized they are. But Reigen was dense. All afternoon you sent many hints that you, in fact, were flirting with him, but he didn't catch them. You still have time. Of course you have no idea that the one to get rid of the curse was Dimple, Reigen played it out as if he was the one doing all the magic. Dimple got accustomed to it.

«Thank you so much, Reigen-san» you smile, stunning as always. You already changed in your casual clothes, your body covered in a long, beige trenchcoat.

«No big deal, it was a small fish»

Dimple rolls his eyes behind Reigen's shoulder, but you can't see him. The sun is setting behind the building of your modeling agency. Reigen is smoking a cigarette, he asked you in advance if it bothers you, and you asked if you can join him. Reigen takes a quick glimpse at you. Even the way you smoke transpires elegance. His cheeks are lightly powdered in pink.

«I feel kinda bad though, I didn't pay you enough»

«No need to feel bad, I'm confident in my pricings»

«So you're gonna reject my drink invitation?»

Reigen chokes a puff of smoke. He throws you a quick glance and sees you smiling calmly, smoke slowly flowing out of your half-open lips. Dimple's words started floating in his own head. Was he right all along? Or you're just being nice? Do you really want to go out for a drink? Then, words just spill out on their own.

«Never said that»

You take a hit of your cigarette «Good, I'll lead the way»

There's something in your presence. So resolute, classy, confident. A different kind of confidence compared to Reigen. You always know how to behave, how to present yourself. It's hypnotic, magnetic even. Reigen can't help but be left speechless. He would lie to himself if he said that you weren't the prettiest woman he has ever seen. As you two walk towards your parked car, Reigen feels a familiar presence again.

«I told you, dude! She's all over you!» Dimple exlciams, waving his cloudy hands in front of Reigen.

«Shut the fuck up, she's not!»

You turn around «Did you say something?»

Reigen shakes his head vigorously, a bead of sweat running down his temple in embarrassment «N-nothing!»

The lounge bar you picked looks too expensive for Reigen's pockets. But you assured him that the drinks were on you, and ignored his insistence in paying. So now you and Reigen are sitting in front of each other, still dressed as you were this afternoon. He kinda feels out of place with his office suit on. But you fit the luxurious atmosphere so well. Your figure, your red dress, your make-up and smile. The way you talk, and laugh, and politely order two martinis. This place looks like it was made for you and you only. Talking with Reigen is an experience that you honestly expected very much. He's an interesting person, he's kind, funny, and smart. You didn't get the hots for him only for his looks. You understood the kind of person he was the moment he started listening to your problems this afternoon. He might look like the average japanese functional working citizen, but you saw right through him immediately.

And Reigen thinks the same of you. You're not only extremely attractive, confident and classy. You're cultured, intelligent, witty. He feels like talking to you is so easy, a feeling he didn't always get from others, or at least it wasn't often reciprocated. He wants to listen more of your words, of your mind. He's slowly getting hypnotized. You have a way with words, with gestures. The way you place your hand on your chin, or tuck hair behind your ear, is not casual. Everything you do is measure and balance. And the way you listen to his most complicated thoughts makes him want to tell you more, to stay a bit longer. He's enjoying himself for once in a while, laughing without thinking about anything else.

You put down your martini after taking a sip «By the way, Reigen, I think my photoshoot came out really, really well»

In a slow, sensual movement, you cross your legs under the table, your dress brushing against your bare skin with a velvet-like sound. You let one of your heels hang from the tip of your foot, then drop it down to the floor completely. Without any premeditation, you let your foot travel up Reigen's leg, first his ankle and then all the way up under the fabric of his pants.

«Maybe you should come to all my shootings from now on» you coo.

His shock is evident. Reigen locks his lips and holds his breath as he feels your foot stroking his leg under his pants. He wants to say something, but he can't.

Is she playing footsie with me?!

And then, for only God knows how many times, Dimple pops out again behind him, making Reigen jump on the spot.

«I fucking told you man!»

«I'm flirting with you, Reigen-san»

«Okay Dimple maybe you were right but what the fuck do I- say what?!»

You suppress a small giggle «I said that I'm flirting with you, Reigen. Since you didn't really seem to catch it»

Reigen is too stunned to speak «Oh!»

«I can stop though, if you're not interested in...more. Pursuing men so much is not my style. But I don't regret trying»

Your foot falls down from his leg and gets back to your heel, sliding it inside. You rest your chin in your hand, scanning Arataka's face for a reaction. He looks so embarrassed that it has you concerned. Did you go too far? To be completely honest, you liked messing with men. Making them look at you, leaving them speechless. But in a completely harmless way. Your last wish was to make Reigen uncomfortable in any way. You're about to say something, but you get interrupted.

«No, it's fine!» Reigen yelps, a nervous smile cracking on his face.

He mentally facepalms himself for sounding too excited, and too high pitched. But the reassuring smile you show him makes all his worries fade away. He doesn't feel judged, or under scrutiny.

«I-I mean» he resumes «I won't hold back if you're interested in...more»

Jesus he feels so stupid. But maybe you like stupid. It's written in the way you lean forward on your shared table, your hand reaching for his pink tie. You lightly pull it to encourage Reigen to come forward as well, sensually stroking it with two hands as you see his throat gulp out of nervousness.

«I'm glad to hear, Reigen. Otherwise I would have felt very lonely tonight, in my apartment»

«Good...»

Then, you let go of his tie and get up from your seat, and Reigen does the same. Mustering up some courage, Reigen extends his hand for you to take it. You happily oblige, placing yours in his palm. With a satisfied look on your face, you proceed to walk out of the lounge bar, hand in hand.

Without you noticing, Dimple appears in front of Reigen one last time.

«Can I come?» he asks.

«Fuck, no!» Reigen growls under his teeth.

«What did you say?» you ask.

«Nothing!»

#Spotify #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mp100 reigen #reader insert #reigen arataka #tumblr sexyman #fanfic #x reader #mob psycho reigen #reigen arataka x reader #reigen x reader #reigen manga #ao3 writer #writers on tumblr #mob psycho #dimple #ekubo #mp100 ekubo

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seoul-bros · 3 months

Text

Muse - an exploration of love

It now seems clear that Face and Muse were recorded in parallel, overlapping and intertwining. It's a situation which creates a thread of connection between the two albums.

It's largely the same production team as FACE with Jimin again participating in writing most of the tracks on the album. He has also turned his hand to producing on Rebirth and Interlude: Showtime.

Track 1: Rebirth

The first track seems connected to and leading on naturally from Set Me Free Part 2. Thinking back to the end of the MV where Jimin's clothes change from black to white, from leather to softer materials and his gaze is at last peaceful and penetrating, it all seeks to communicate release, reemergence and renewal.

Rebirth therefore is the moment beyond, when Jimin determines to embrace life and love again. It could be a declaration of intent to start telling the story of Muse.

Track 2: Interlude: Showtime

Which would make Showtime, the first step to embracing that new found freedom. It's an Interlude sure, but I keep getting a very theatrical image in my head, very bold, very Cabaret (if you're in London, I recommend you see the show).

Track 3: Smeraldo Garden Marching Band (feat. Loco)

We will get to hear Smeraldo Garden Marching Band in less than a week (aggggghhhhhhhh i'm not ready ......but at the same time so so ready). The track description says it "draws inspiration from a marching band, blending hip-hop elements with the big band sound characterized by a large-scale orchestra, creating an upbeat, lively rhythm and dynamic atmosphere." This gives me a stepping up, stepping out kind of feel.

Given the focus on The Beatles and St Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band during Face era and the involvement of Nick Lee in Set Me Free Part 2, I'm expecting more big brass and a full sound which Jimin seems to be drawn to - brass and choirs all the way baby.

youtube

I'd also expect to see some choreography here something like On but that might be asking too much.

youtube

South Korean rapper Loco is the featured artist. Looking through his back catalogue one of his most successful songs featured RM's long time collaborator Colde. It'll be interesting to see how their voices and styles combine here.

Track 4: Slow Dance (feat. Sofia Carson)

With Slow Dance, the seduction really begins. Arcades are Matt Thomson and Max Lynedoch Graham, a British electronic music production duo who we saw in the studio with Jimin in 2022 along with Gabriel Brandes and Alex Karlsson. Now we know what they were doing there.

Also involved in this one is Like Crazy co-writer BLVSH. Oh yes this bodes very well for this track.

So we're thinking EDM, maybe with a Latin feel. Sofia Carson has a unique voice which I think will pair well with Jimin and she has also been known to sing in Spanish and we know after SoWooZoo that Jimin is not adverse to that.

Track 5: Be Mine

Be Mine is still a bit of a mystery to me, given its placement on the album it would suggest that Jimin has found the objective of his affections and wants to solidify the attraction into something more. Will it be a ballad? The production is giving no clues and I haven't seen any credits yet. However, some eagle eyes on TwiX spotted a Be Mine reference from ID: Chaos.

Track 6: Who

This is the main track and the production team includes Jon Beillon who worked on last year's summer smash Seven so we can expect some focus on elements for commercial success.

There are more echos of ID:Chaos with he colour scheme for Who matching that from the Freedom shoot. It would be nice to think that Who reflects that particular sentiment i.e. this is who I am and knowing this has set me free to live and love as I choose.

Track 7: Closer Than This

We round out with Closer Than This which given its position on the album and the way it was previously released solidifies the message, this is me until we meet again. Our love is strong enough to weather the storm of this enforced separation. It is a message for the fans but also for the BTS members.

youtube

Post Date: 21/06/2024

#jimin #park jimin #muse #track list #closer than this #who #slow dance #be mine #smeraldo garden marching band #interlude: showtime #rebirth

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watchoutforthefanfics · 9 months

Text

Ticking Love Bomb (Part Five) || Eleventh Doctor × gn! Reader

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

Taglist: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @solitairemvp @idontevenknowwth @this-is-me-lolol @rokosbasalisk @solarbxby

Summary: Your adventure with the Doctor and the Ponds takes a harsh turn when it seems you're targeted with a potion. A love potion, specifically the type where you fall in love with whoever's eyes you met first after "drinking" it. But what if you're already in love with him?

TWS: aliens, space, references of guns, smoke, unrequited love (but not really), self sacrificial attitudes, and purely oblivious people. Also, just a touch of angst (typical of a love confession).

"Y/N-"

"I always wondered what it was like to travel, you know?" you hummed, sinking against the door, "Before you showed up, in your big blue box, I thought I'd never know it. Not like I wanted to. Not the history, and the reasons they wore silly hats and what was their funniest joke? But then, you came along."

"Don't do this," he exhaled and you could almost feel him on the other side, "-please."

"You've given me so much, Doctor," you continued, the footsteps gaining volume, "-and yet, I still am so selfish."

"Y/N."

"Not only have you given me adventures beyond belief, but you gave me friends… You gave me a home," you exhaled, shakily and lightly trailed your fingertips along the wall, bracing yourself, "-and I love you for it."

There was silence on the other side of the wall, one that only frequented the beating of your heart - it was getting louder and louder now. Echoing in your ears, your hands began to shake as the footsteps grew even louder.

"I'm sorry I had to tell you this way, Doctor," you laughed to yourself, choking on the tears that were bound to spill, "-It's hardly romantic. Knowing you, you'd want it much more romantic. Like, like Rose Tyler, remember?"

"Y/N," he finally spoke, tone soft and a bit angered.

"You don't have to say anything back," you spoke, tears running down your cheeks, "-in fact, I don't want you to."

"That's not fair," the Doctor answered, "-none of this is fair."

You chuckled, sniffling, "Oh, don't I know it."

Your heart was impossibly loud now, the thrum of it beating across your skin, and your lungs vibrating with the sound - he hadn't said much in response. And your heart was confused, whether to focus on his lack of speaking or the nerves that riddled you to the core.

So, you found yourself strung thin -your body feeling an air of self-destruction you hadn't before.

"If…" he spoke, barely a whisper with the softness of his tone, "If it was me, why didn't you just tell me? Why couldn't you just tell me that would be so simple-"

"Doctor, you're a man of the stars," you uttered, the air flooding out of your lungs, "-I doubt a human would make that man happy. And like you said, no reciprocation… I'd die."

The men were now in your sight, eyes set intently on yourself, as you stood back against the heavy metal -at least they had that extra layer. You did what you could.

"Y/N, please listen," he spoke and his tone was shaking and you could hear the drag of the gravel -the tears.

"Take care of yourself, raggedy man."

"Y/N, just let me speak-"

The crowd was in front of you now, you could see the glimmer of their armor in the fluorescent lights glaring down at you. It almost hurt your eyes, but there was a calm deep within yourself -you told him. You did it.

“Don’t do this,” he echoed, voice lighter than before, “-please.”

“Survivor spotted,” a voice echoed down the hall -stoic and calm, “-inform the headmistress immediately.”

“Don’t do this to me.”

You exhaled, trying to focus on the beating in your chest -it was so loud now, you could hardly hear anything else. All you felt though, with the men gaining on you was an air of freedom, your heart open, like your chest had been cracked open and your heart exposed. In a way, that felt welcome -you’d let them prod. As long as he’s okay, you hummed to yourself.

“Y/N, I-” he exhaled in a rush and you could hardly follow until it halted, “-I…”

“Identify yourself.”

You were straining now to hear him, as your heartbeat continued high and strong and the clang of footsteps bounced around your skull. It hurt to focus, it really did. But, you weren’t going to miss a word he said, even on the verge of death.

“I love you too.”

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #gender neutral y/n #a bit angsty but #it fixes itself #is really sad kinda so #unrequited love but not really #use of y/n #watchoutwriting #ticking love bomb

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sugoi-writes · 2 months

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This is Not a Love Story, This is an Autopsy - Part 1

A/N- PHEW! I wanted to kick out of my hiatus with something I've been itching to do... An original series! I wasn't quiet happy with some of my longer works (and trust, they will probably be rewritten, too). So, this is the start of something new! Something that'll be fresh!

I've been heavily inspired/influenced by @minkdelovely and @hazelfoureyes, who keep encouraging me to just... do it. So I'm doing it!

BEFORE you get too invested, this story WILL be dark. It will be GOREY, graphic at times, there will be filthy, raunchy smut... But this is gonna be a LOT of hurt, with VERY LITTLE comfort. Alastor will NOT be a kind man. The title should be taken seriously, if you wish to continue. BUT FOR NOW... PHEW... sorry, here's part one!!!

Warnings/Promises: Mystery murder woman, Alastor is intrigued, a poor demon suddenly doesn't have a face, cursing, banter, Mystery woman wants to kill Alastor, and Alastor doesn't have GREAT intentions either... Just-- Alastor being ALASTOR! (Mystery woman is referred to in 3rd person, but this may change! Not sure yet)

Please enjoy! ❤️ Header image created by bat-boness on Tumblr! ❤️

Alastor's evening stroll simulated any other: pleasantries exchanged with himself, and his dainty, dated tunes filling the air. This served as a chipper contrast to his surroundings of hurried footsteps, startled shrieks, and the general cacophony on this side of The Pentagram. Oh, tonight was certainly a good night! ...But it was about to get so much better.

The sound of wet squelching, akin to a crushed watermelon, caught his attention. His deer-like ears twisted in it's direction, his smile expanding. What a curious sound! One he was aptly familiar with! It could only be one thing...

Gurgling, disjointed cries and the sputtering of fluids sounded like a grotesque melody. Alastor could hear steady, heavy breathing keeping the tempo. An act of passion... well, in the killing sense, surely. Ever the curious sort, Alastor sent his shadow to investigate. Its wide eyes take in the sight of the alleyway expectantly, eager to witness the fuss first.

A large figure loomed over a hapless victim, the arms flinching and trembling subconsciously as the attacker worked diligently. The sounds from before had morphed into a gut wrenching cutting noise: the unmistakable sound of a sharp knife carving through flesh... but where?

The shadow blinked, inching closer to the scene to get a better look. However, the attacker flinched, turning towards the apparation with a speed that would snap the neck of a human. It was spotted.

In the blink of an eye, a knife came off of a thigh garter belt, hurdling full force towards the Shadow. The knife struck between the entity’s eyes, a heated hiss thrown back to the stranger. Alastor's obedient pet slinked back to its master, unable to give a more helpful report. Alastor hummed in amusement, taking two wide strides to his right. Now, he was stationed at the mouth of the alley, his teeth gleaming under the dim streetlight.

"Do forgive me, dear, I am not known to eavesdrop," a lie, Alastor thought," But I couldn't help but overhear a scuffle~ What did that poor beau do to deserve such fury?"

Alastor wanted to be nearer, to see what you had done to the now-corpse of the demon... but alas, he couldn't just yet. Even with the back facing him, the Radio Demon got a better glimpse at the disheveled stranger.

A large, wide shoulder span dipped in and flowed back out in a delightful curve: a tasteful hourglass shape. Brunette and blonde hair cascaded just past the shoulders, spattered with blood… that was even more tasteful. Judging from the spray's pattern, this blood came from somewhere else… or someone else, in this case. The broad shoulders led to muscular, intense looking arms. The limbs were so red that it seemed they were dipped in a vat of coagulated blood. He could scarcely see the little nicks and scars that littered the taunt skin.

When Alastor continued to walk forward, a sharp turn of the head greeted him. Startling, grey eyes with bloodshot whites glared back at him. The figure didn't answer him, staring him down with a look that could frighten a dictator. Blonde and brunette fringe framed the face, a soft contrast to the rest of the body. Full, flushed cheeks from exertion, complimented by wide eyes and a set of thick, heavy lashes. And, dozens of shallow, silver-white scars littering the pale, plump face. Alastor's eyebrows rose with interest, the silence only motivating him to get closer.

The figure growled, snarling like a caged animal as it turned fully towards him... a woman, he assumed. This woman had blood sprayed across her entire upper body, indicating that this was indeed a passionate act of murder.

Alastor ceased his advances, both hands coming up in mock-surrender.

"Oh come now, dear, I mean no harm... 'just curious~ Won't you humor a demon for a spell? You might just hear your little story on my broadcast tonight~" he nearly sang, eyes squinting and watching carefully. He could tell that this beast of a woman was on high alert, and would likely try and jump him if he so much as thought the wrong word. Though he was confident in his abilities to defend himself, he was no bodybuilder: a fisty cuff that got too heated could mean his second death.

The woman’s gaze remained unphased as she came to her feet. Then, it morphed into a look of recognition.

While the mystery woman realized who was speaking to her, Alastor discovered what she had been carving off of the victim: his face. Alastor watched with an irrational sense of delight as the heavily scarred woman faced him properly. He couldn't help but shift his eyes to the scalped face of the victim, feeling his hands ball up into eager fists behind his back.

The cadaver’s face was grasped in the brunette’s calloused, large hands, blood sliding through her knuckles like a babbling creak in the woods. Had he been a sane man, he would have found the image unsightly. But between his fall from grace and his afterlife of trouble… he found the sight utterly delicious.

Alastor swallowed something in his throat... nerves? Excitement? A mutual interest between strangers? What an evening to find a like-minded individual…

"...You're the Radio Demon..." the murderer said simply. Her voice was a hard, uneven gravel, as if she hardly spoke at all. Alastor's smile widened, giddy at the budding interaction.

"Ahh, my reputation precedes me~ But you can call me Alastor, sweetheart. And what may I call you, hmm?" The tone of his sing-song charm did not match the cannibalistic mania of his too-wide smile. His voice was the cheese, nestled inside an obvious mousetrap.

Alastor stepped even closer, extending a hand out to the rabid-looking woman. Her steely eyes looked to his hand, before back to his face. Her expression remained unchanged.

"...I don't do handshakes," she replied bluntly, her gaze burrowing holes into Alastor's complexion. She seemed to watch him just as intently, acutely aware of his dark aura. Her words sought to disguise her own intrigue.

"Ahh, apologies, dear-- Deeeaaaar...?"

Alastor raised a brow while he drew out the last word, eye twitching with annoyance. He cocked his head slightly as he leaned in, trying to goad her into a response. He expected a name sometime tonight. A name... just a name. If he had her name, he could work with that. Just let him get under that barrier, even if it's just a crack--

"I don't have one," the woman spat back, either uninterested or able to see through Alastor’s antics (of which, the Radio Demon wasn't sure).

A record scratch leaked through his frequency at the abrupt response. The curtness throttled his already thinking patience... Alastor's wide smile stammered for a moment, a tense chuckle bleeding through his clenched jaw. His fuzzy and sound-dampened amusement was practically oozing irritation...

Likewise, the tension that hung between the pair was far too thick.

This needed to be carved through with a knife, Alastor thought. He could still do this.

"Nonsense dear! Why, EVERYONE has a name!!! Surely there is something that people use to call you? To refer to you???" Alastor was a bit surprised by his own persistence. Why did her lack of name manage to throttle him?

...right. He found her fascinating, that's all. And fascinating people in Hell were often easy to exploit... easy to force into a deal. And by extension, she would be useful and entertaining.

"...people usually don't get the chance to talk to me," the brunette replied. Her stoney, hardened face slowly shifted into a sly smile. She chortled wickedly, licking her cracked lips,"...but they usually beg for their lives right about now."

Her sudden lunge surprises Alastor momentarily, before his pitch tendrils snap into action. The mad woman is caught and suspended mid-launch, a heavy tentacle struggling to keep her knife-wielding arm in check. Alastor clicks his tongue mockingly at her aggression. Back to square one, it seemed. What a simple creature!

"Ohh dear, is that a way to talk to someone? If you plan to stab me, at least offer to take me on a stroll first. Perhaps to a coffee shop?" The deranged woman's mouth was tightly pulled into a horrifying snarl, teeth bared and glistening with spit. Had she contracted rabies? Or was she still riding the feral high of a fresh kill? Neither option seemed to startle or surprise Alastor all that much.

He paid her no mind as he walked around her in a slow, teasing circle: like a predator circling helpless prey. But the woman grunted and struggled just the same, hair falling into her face as she tried to break free. The noises she made had shivers of pride running up Alastor's spine. This interest almost seemed... more than that. More than morbid curiosity… He shook the thought away from his mind, his cheeks burning from how harshly he forced himself to smile.

Alastor stepped within striking distance, another tentacle wrapping around the knife-wielding hand as he looked at her troubled face.

"G-Go-- nnnhhhfucker-- Go fuck yourself, freak," the woman hissed, spitting towards the Radio Demon. He simply tilted his head, the spittle missing his pristine cheek. Annoying and gauche... he would have to break her of that garish habit.

"I'm afraid carnal desires haven't interested me for quite some time. Well... past the one you dabbled with moments ago. I must say I'm mighty interested in your handywork~"

Alastor's taloned hand squished the cheeks of the captured woman, turning her face this way and that. Alastor was smirking with an air of superiority as he took in every imperfection and scar that maimed her round face... To him, she was breathtaking, each scar revealing an incident or story he would be familiar with. He felt interested in dissecting her, and figuring out just what or who caused the nicks and cuts.

Thankfully, his brush with murder and other crimes made breaking down her injuries a breeze. Most of them could be summarized as self defense marks left by a weaker victim. This woman was STRONG... There was no question about that. And she wasn't afraid of getting dirty to get her desires fulfilled. He could find that quality to be quite charming... quite useful.

"If you truly do not have a name... might I suggest one?"

The question puzzles the brunette, eyes blinking in rapid succession. It took her a few moments to process the offer.

"You... want to name me?" She retorted, her squished face distorting her bewilderment," Like some goddamn PET?"

"I’m simply offering you one, dear. No need to make a fuss. Perhaps you could find it helpful, should you ever need to be referred to more... directly. With familiarity. You needn't take it, if it displeases you."

Alastor sighed dramatically as the woman thrashed in anger, shaking his head in tandem. It was quite easy to backtrack with this one, wasn’t it?

The woman stared back at the Radio Demon, intense grey embracing hellish red in a heated standoff. One could kill the other in a heartbeat, their acts only halted by straining tentacles. They were in a tense ceasefire, if only for their own sakes.

The woman sighed, relenting after what felt like an eternity," If it causes you to let go of me... you may give me a name, Radio Demon."

"Alastor," the male corrected, pinching her cheeks with harsher intent. The woman winced, but nodded curtly," A-Alastor..."

The venom that oozed from her harsh tone made molten heat fill Alastor’s chest. She could be obedient… how interesting.

The deer demon sneered, face reflecting his earlier delight as his eyes briefly flickered. The name rolled off her tongue so easily... Oh, he liked seeing her like this. Another charming quality he could get used to… and take use of.

"Carver."

The woman blinked, scoffing," Really?"

"Yes. Carver. You could always go by 'The Carver', if you wished, but I rather think the name suits you... a little on the nose, maybe, but simple. Just like you." Alastor's thumb rubs over the woman's cheek, a claw dangerously close to gouging her eye out. The demoness’ face softens, the touch causing conflicting feelings to flit across it.

Fright, anger, surprise, and… yearning. Had Alastor not been observant and experienced with reading people, he might have missed a few of these. Hell, the micro expressions lasted for seconds, if that… But thankfully, his eyes were as sharp as the blade hovering above his head.

Alastor’s hand pauses on her flushed cheek, stashing the useful information in the recesses of his dark mind.

"...fine... That name is fine, Alastor."

Carver fell to the dank and rancid ground with a heavy thud, Alastor clasping his hands together resolutely. Tentacles were dismissed as he eyed her eagerly.

“Splendid, dear! Carver it is! Now, about our earlier topic–”

Carver dusted off her knees as she stood, eyeing the deer-esque demon cautiously. She allowed him to continue, despite her better judgment to gut him then and there.

“What do you say to a bit of coffee, over lunch?”

Carver blinks for a moment, then another, arms folding in front of her chest,” You're joking, right?”

Alastor practically giggles, a dark tendril reforming to hold up the skinned face of her victim,” I'm more of an emcee than a comedian, dear… though I can never pass on a good punchline! Haha!”

When Alastor extends the face to the woman, he squints mischievously,” But no, I'm being quite genuine… Tomorrow, Cannibal Town. There's a quaint little shop by Rosie’s Emporium, the Brimstone Brew… I trust that you've heard of it?”

Curtly, Carver nods, taking her trophy from the Radio Demon indignantly,” Vaguely. I just started working a new job closeby, actually,” she admits. The moment she does, she mentally curses herself. Alastor’s eyes widen, a hand childishly coming to cover his lips. Or more accurately, like a elitist, royal woman with her hand fan, trying to stife her reaction to juicy gossip.

“Pray tell, what do you do~?”

Carver scoffs, casting her gaze anywhere other than the man’s demented smile,” …just some butcher shop. The manager apparently got… well, butchered. So there was a vacancy that the Assistant Manager filled. Soooo… I– I was pulled in to become the new assistant there.”

Alastor seemed on the verge of jumping out of his own skin, leaning forward intently.

“You? Working in one of my favorite stops? Oh, how convenient, dear! Then hows about I ‘meat’ you there! Haha!”

The joke did not go unnoticed, a gruff ‘really?’ following after. He would need to work on her enthusiasm, too.

“See, we could go for a little stroll, and you can tell me more about this new venture of yours! Why, if it's entertaining enough, I'm sure your story would captivate an audience! My audience!”

Carver didn't get the chance to protest as the dapper demon took a few steps back, tipping his imaginary hat her way.

“Let's shoot for 11 o’clock, ‘sharp as your knife! I look forward to getting to know you better… Carver.”

And within a second, the crimson and ebony demon vanished into the shadows. Carver was left confused and stupefied by the entire interaction. She didn't even get a chance to tell Alastor that she actually had work that morning… not that the Radio Demon would stand for it. But, maybe she could brush him off easier this way… She was sure her new manager would intervene or prevent the entire situation from escalating...

The woman dug around in her satchel, until she found a gallon freezer bag. She unceremoniously threw the bloody, skinned face of her victim into her pack, rolling her eyes. Maybe ‘Carver’ was an alright name after all…

What a fucking day… and what a fucking man, to have the nerve to be so… so…

Carver blinked a few times, words escaping her. He was an asshole, but also seemed to have manners… He was infamous, but didn't seem to match the dark reputation… He was bitchy, but also… surprisingly gentle with her?

Carver touched her cheek, where a taloned finger once lingered. A swift flush ghosted across her face as she kicked the corpse on the ground, huffing defiantly. The sooner she could shake this guy off her back, the better. She didn't do ‘friends’. She didn't even have acquaintances. And yet, all in one night, she was given a nickname and asked to go on a coffee date, seemingly just to… talk?

Never would she have imagined such an odd scenario before now. But, she did have an interesting opportunity. Take him out on a date before you stab him, she loosely recalled. And she was more than eager to take him up on that offer to get him off her back.

Carver chuckled, clicking her tongue as she started the trek to her apartment. Maybe she could call in sick tomorrow! Why not?

She could humor this man, if only to hear what his screams would sound like. She hoped that his terror sounded as desperate and sweet as the ones from his broadcast… An artist often immolated their work, and she had a feeling that his anguish would taste just as divine...

This is not a love story. This is an autopsy.

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littlejuicebox · 9 months

Text

Baking Cookies

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: First winter post-BG3 / You and Astarion live together and you’re trying to introduce him to “normal” traditions and things he may not have experienced before. Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / Holiday fluff / Sexual references / Maybe some mild in game spoilers Word Count: 1K Notes: This is 1/5 "Days of Star-mas!" Tried to keep this GN but please lmk if you caught something! :)

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "holiday spirit."

Click here to see my master list.

-----

“Darling, this entire thing seems to be quite the mess.” Astarion huffs, flicking his gaze over the bowls, trays, baking goods, and various accoutrements strewn across the counter.

“Well, my love, that’s kind of the point! To make a mess and have a bit of fun. It’s nothing we can’t clean up.” You respond, giving the rogue a small smile and a good-natured eye roll, “Now what’s next?”

You two are in the kitchen, the delicious smells of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the air. Astarion is leaning over the kitchen counter and returns to reading the baking instructions aloud to you as you knead the spiced cookie dough in your hands.

“After kneading, shape the dough to ready for baking. Well… how on earth are we supposed to shape it? That’s not very specific.” The vampire murmurs with an irritated huff, nose wrinkling in frustration. He really wasn’t thrilled about participating in this new Midwinter tradition of baking treats for all your friends, but you’d managed to convince him with a heavy dose of eyelash batting and a little bit of whining.

You giggle as you take the spiced dough from the bowl and begin rolling it out with a pin, sprinkling flour about the counter as you work. You nod your head at the gingerbread molds you purchased from the market earlier this week. “With the cookie molds, my love. Or we can twist the dough with our hands… you’ll see.”

Soon enough, you’ve put Astarion to work cutting out gingerbread cookies and placing them on the baking trays while you’re twisting your portion of the dough into shapes. You watch the rogue as he works, quite intently, on forming the little beings. He’d decided to give a few of the cookies horns and tails, of course, and you’d been thrilled to see him getting into the holiday spirit in his own way, so you allowed his artistic liberties.

“That one looks like Karlach!” You exclaim, as you see Astarion pressing horns and a tail onto a gingerbread form that he’s also given massive biceps.

“Exactly the point, my dear.” Astarion grins, as he places cookie-Karlach onto the final open spot in his tray. “And this one is Gale.” He gestures to a cookie cutout he’s pulled slightly to make it taller and thinner, holding a twisted staff in its hand.

You chuckle, and having just finished your own tray, take the cookies and place them in the oven to bake. As you turn back to your love, he’s holding his hand out to you and beckoning you closer to him. You quickly oblige.

“You’ve got a bit of sugar and spice on your face, darling.” Astarion whispers, moving to kiss your cheek. His tongue laps at the powder before he aims to kiss your lips and you’re enveloped in the sweet taste of sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and him. The rogue grins mischievously, pulling back to look at you, white eyebrow cocked. “Hmm… looks like there might be some powder behind your ear and down your neck, as well.”

You roll your eyes at the vampire and his obvious lie as he moves to nibble your earlobe and then swirl his tongue behind it before trailing tiny kisses down your neck. When he pulls back again to admire you with scarlet eyes, you’re completely flushed.

“Are you satisfied with your little game now, my Star?” You ask, trying your best to chide the vampire and hide your smile.

Astarion turns toward the counter, and before you realize what he’s doing, he’s already dipped his long fingers into the remnants of the cookie spice mixture and turned back to you. He quickly drags his powder-coated hands down your neck, past the exposed parts of your chest, and across your arms. You’re covered in the sweet particles and staring at him, mouth open, brimming with shocked incredulity. He grins impishly and places a small boop of powder on your nose before you catch his hand in your own, scrunching your face at the rogue.

The vampire steps forward with a good-natured chuckle to kiss the spices off your nose before wrapping you in his arms. “Not satisfied quite yet, darling. And we have a bit of time to kill while those cookies bake.”

You roll your eyes at your lover, but relax your face and smile anyway, content to join the pale elf in his little game. “Hmm… I wonder what we could do with that time, my love.”

Astarion hums, feigning thinking, as his lips wander to your neck and his tongue drags a sticky trail of saliva and sweeteners back up to your ear. He whispers, voice low and gravelly in that way that makes your knees weak. “I have a few sticky and sweet ideas.”

You two spend the entire time the cookies are in the oven on the kitchen floor, creating quite the mess. Astarion is the one to stop the fun, pulling away from where his lips had been absolutely ravaging your own. “Pardon the interruption, my dear, but I think the cookies are about finished. I can smell them, and I think you might kill me if they burned."

The both of you stand and you peer into the oven. The vampire is correct, and you beam at him, placing a little loving kiss on his bloodhound nose. “That’s a wonderful hidden talent, my Star.”

You carefully remove the trays and place them on the counter to cool, admiring the efforts and handiwork that led to such beautifully browned pastries.

“Hm… those look delectable.” Astarion murmurs, cocking his head to appreciate the cookies before turning to look at you. “But you look even more delectable, my little treat. Now come here to me and let’s finish what we’ve started.”

You eagerly cross the few paces to your lover and Astarion is quickly upon you again, easily pulling you back to the kitchen floor and enveloping you in his love. And as promised, a sticky-sweet, fun mess is soon made all over the kitchen.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #tav x astarion #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion fluff #starmas #5daysofstarmas #bg3holidayfluffle23

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callsigns-haze · 7 months

Text

Out of All: Chp 1

Jake Seresin x OC! Anna Bradshaw

Brothers' Best Friend Series! Follow along as these characters navigate the treacherous waters of love, loyalty, and desire, all while facing the ultimate taboo: falling for your sibling's best friend. From heart-pounding moments to steamy encounters, this series is a rollercoaster of emotions that will keep you hooked until the very end. Brace yourself for intense romantic tension, sizzling chemistry, and enough drama to keep you guessing. Are you ready to embark on this captivating journey?

This chapter includes explicit sexual content with detailed descriptions of sexual activity and intimacy between characters. Scenes depict physical intimacy, including kissing, touching, and biting, with characters described in states of undress. Emotional intensity is explored, encompassing themes of longing, desire, and vulnerability, with brief references to past trauma. Characters may be shown consuming alcoholic beverages, and mature themes such as casual relationships.

You awaken with damp locks cascading around your shoulders, the remnants of a hasty shower leaving your hair slightly damp. The notion of lying bare and weary in your bed holds no sway over you, not today. This is your respite from the world's demands, a day designated for absolute inertia.

Yet, the presence of your older brother, Bradley, imposes a modicum of propriety upon your morning ritual. You toss aside the cozy embrace of your bedclothes and reach for garments, a black sports bra and snug booty shorts, enveloping your frame in layers that shield your bareness. A gray zip-up sweatshirt becomes a casual adornment, tied around your waist in a laissez-faire manner.

Your hair, now only mildly damp, is gathered and pinned back with a claw clip, a functional arrangement that frees your nape from the clinging strands. Drawing back the gray curtains, a panorama of the ocean unfolds before you, a sight both captivating and serene. The dawn paints the sky in delicate hues of pink, intermingled with whispers of orange and faded purples, casting a spell of tranquility over the horizon.

Venturing into the kitchen, you encounter Bradley, already immersed in the morning routine. He offers you coffee, a gesture met with a swift refusal, accompanied by a reminder of your disdain for the bitter brew. His presence, always punctual and ever-prepared, serves as a reminder of the responsibilities that linger beyond your sanctuary.

The tension between you simmers beneath the surface, a testament to diverging paths and unspoken expectations. Bradley, with his well-intentioned gestures and earnest advice, seeks to guide you toward a future he deems promising. Yet, your heart beats to a different rhythm, anchored in a passion that defies conventional wisdom.

Words are exchanged, terse and laden with unspoken truths. You assert your autonomy with a fervor born of frustration, demanding recognition as an adult capable of charting her own course. Bradley, stoic yet remorseful, concedes to the weight of your words, his embrace a silent admission of fallibility.

But beneath the veneer of reconciliation lies a deeper discord, a clash of ambitions and aspirations. For you, music is not merely a hobby but a lifeline, a refuge from the burdens that threaten to engulf you. Yet, to Bradley and others, it remains a folly, a dream unworthy of pursuit.

Twelve years have passed since you first embarked on this journey, seeking solace in distant shores and unfamiliar melodies. Yet, the specter of familial expectations looms large, a constant reminder of the rift that separates you from their world of certainties.

"Small steps," you plead, a plea born of desperation and resolve. And though Bradley offers his assurances, you know that the road ahead is fraught with uncertainty, a path illuminated by the flickering flame of your unwavering determination.

---

You ain't never been in a spot quite like this before, where everything's about the physical but nothin' about the feels. Dressin' up or gettin' ready didn't matter much when you knew your clothes would end up scattered and your makeup smeared, and your hair—well, it was destined to be a mess once his hands got tangled in it.

Bradley had golf in the mornin', so he cleared out 'round ten forty, leavin' the apartment empty. Expected him back for lunch, but he had other plans, hittin' up a bar with his buddies. Didn't bother you none. Last day before work kicks in, you got the place all to yourself.

Scoured through your closet like it meant somethin' what you wore. Knew one thing for certain, though—lingerie. Got a few pairs, some more risqué than others. Had a soft spot for your sage green set. Thin, barely there, and entirely see-through. Just one tug, and it slipped right off.

Opted for a denim skirt, casual yet classy—that was the aim. Didn't wanna give off any vibes like it was a date or nothin', just keepin' it cool.

Grabbed a plain white tee, makin' sure it was thick enough to conceal the lace underneath. Checked yourself out in the bathroom mirror. Finally felt like yourself. Brown curls cascadin' freely, baby cow eyes sparklin' in the lightest eyeshadow. Lips glossed with a hint of strawberry, nails painted in the faintest shade of pink with swirls of white. You felt it. You felt like the girl.

Still had some time 'fore the taxi showed up. Decided against drivin', 'cause you knew you wouldn't be in the mood afterward.

Recently chopped your hair. Used to be long and wavy, but you snipped it up to your chest. Suitin' you better, truth be told. Waves actually cooperated, and your hair finally laid right. Pinned up the top strands, knowin' any tie-up wouldn't survive the night.

Phone buzzed from the bathroom windowsill. Couldn't help but grin seein' it was a text from Jake.

Jake: You still up for six?

Had to play it cool. No emotions, just sex.

You: Yeah! Should be able to swing by.

Kept it simple. Didn't wanna seem too eager or too disinterested. Both of you were clear—a relationship wasn't on the table.

Jake: Great, see you then.

Stepped out of the elevator, headin' for the fourth door. Only been to his place once, but you remembered your way around. Knocked on the wooden door, standin' on the black mat as you waited.

Door creaked open, revealin' a tall man with a buzzed haircut and a face that told tales. He smiled, askin', "Here for Jake, right?" Gave you a bit of a start, but his question eased the tension. Nodded, returning the smile as he hollered for Jake. He stepped aside, introducin' himself.

"I'm Javy. 'Bout to head out anyway if you're wonderin'." Nodded back, offerin', "Anna, pleasure." He nodded in return, informin' you that Jake was down the corridor before takin' off.

You made your way to Jake's room, but before you could even enter, he was on you, attackin' your neck with fervor. Wrapped your arms around him as he left his mark, each bite sendin' shivers down your spine. "Jake...damn!"

He smirked, continuin' his assault. Shut the door behind him, pressin' you against it. Grabbed your thighs with intent, demandin' you to jump, and you obliged.

Breath hitchin', groans escalatin' into moans. Couldn't help yourself, not with him. Every time, you lost all control, and it only amused him more. "Look at you, ain't even touched you properly, and you're already a mess."

And the mess was only just beginnin', for the fourth time.

You both lie there, chests heaving, the echo of passion still reverberating in the air. Six o'clock came and went, and now it's nearly nine. Three hours of entwined bodies, three hours of him taking you to heights you never knew existed.

"You're somethin' else," Jake murmurs, shaking his head in wonder as you both share a breathy laugh, nestled under his oversized covers. You gaze at him, a smile tugging at your lips. For the first time in sixteen years, you feel something stir within you, a sensation akin to a long-lost myth or fairy tale.

"I could say the same," you reply, exhaling softly as he draws you closer, pulling you against his chest. It catches you off guard, but you relax into his embrace, resting your head against his heartbeat, a rhythm that feels like a forgotten melody.

"What's the time?" you inquire, both of you aware of the impending need to part ways. Agreed to wrap things up before nine, with work looming on the horizon. Tomorrow marks your return to music, the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

"It's eight fifty-seven," Jake answers, meeting your gaze with a knowing look. You nod, running your fingers through his tousled hair, savoring the fleeting moments.

You rise from his chest, reluctantly disentangling yourself to get dressed. He sits up beside you, the covers cascading around him as he slips into sweatpants. His gaze lingers on your back as you slip into your lingerie, his lips tracing a path along the sensitive skin of your neck. His hands find their way to your curves, a gentle massage that sends shivers down your spine.

"Jake..." you start, a hint of urgency in your voice. He understands, but the reluctance lingers. He wants you to stay, to lose track of time in each other's arms.

"Jake..." you repeat, a bit firmer this time, and he relents, knowing you have to leave.

You rise, and he walks you to the front door. Tonight was unforgettable, but tomorrow holds obligations, and Bradley would launch a search party if you didn't resurface soon. You smile as he opens the door, his smirk a bittersweet farewell.

"When will I see you next?" he asks, a hint of longing in his voice.

"Next Saturday, same time?" you propose, already looking forward to the next rendezvous.

"Sounds like a plan. See you then, Chick."

A/n: This whole series is a dedication to @callsign-magnolia for her birthday...I was going to post on Monday but I guess this is a little early gift!

tagging:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

@horseslovers2016

@rosiahills22

@djs8891

@hookslove1592

@emma8895eb

@hardballoonlove

@kmc1989

@dempy

@mamachasesmayhem

@senawashere

@buckysteveloki-me

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@itsmytimetoodream

@jessicab1991

@ahh-chickens

@dingochef

@dizzybee03

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reallydumbdannyphantomaus · 1 year

Text

The Apocalypse Club

(ao3) (art 1) (art 2)

Valerie, Kwan, and Paulina find out Danny's biggest secret while Amity Park is invaded by a strange new ghost. Now, all four of them have to work together to save the day. ...If they can stop fighting each other first.

Hey!!! this is my @invisobang piece for 2023!!!! it hits in at about 15k words and i got to work with @minnowmarsh and @trolithfoxyflint for the amazing art that comes with it! now you crazy kids have fun reading :D

----------------

“How,” Valerie said when she could talk again.

Danny shrugged and looked away. His face was tinted green, though whether from nausea or the swirling portal on the wall of the lab, she couldn’t say. Kwan didn’t look much better, ashen gray, hair sticking up in all directions from how much he’d been pulling it. Paulina’s eyes hadn’t left Danny’s face since…

Well, since.

“Is that the most important question right now?” he said, rummaging in the desk.

Yes, she wanted to scream. But it wasn’t, and she knew it wasn’t, just as much as she knew that he was avoiding the question.

But she was a professional. She’d worked with… Danny… before. She could put aside her personal feelings until they were safe.

“What’s the plan?”

“We need allies,” he said, still not looking at her. “The only place left to find them is the ghost zone.”

“What?” Paulina said. “You want us to—to go in there?”

“What about our families?” Kwan said.

“Isn’t it super dangerous in there?”

“Look, your families’ best chance is if we get help. And you don’t have to come with me, but I think it’s more dangerous to sit here and wait.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. How was she ever friends with these two? Here they were, whining about danger, when they were missing the most obvious issue with this plan. “Where are we going to get allies in the ghost zone? The whole thing’s just full of ghosts!”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but for a moment his eyes flashed acid green. Her hand snapped to the ectogun on her hip. “You’ve worked with ghosts before, Val.”

“No, I’ve worked with you before, and who the hell knows what you are.”

The words spilled out her mouth like poison, acid. She didn’t know if she meant them or not, but she did notice his full body flinch.

(She filed away the sore spot for future reference.)

“Jesus, Val,” Kwan said, running his hand through his already messed up hair.

She looked away. “Sorry.”

“Look, I have allies in the ghost zone. Even some enemies who, push comes to shove, will help me out if only so they get to kill me themselves. I’ve never seen or heard of this ghost before, okay? If it’s this powerful, and I’ve never heard of it, that’s a really, really bad sign. We need all the help we can get and we can’t afford to be picky about where it comes from.”

Valerie stared harder at the wall. Her skin crawled at the thought of making nice with ghosts. “Easy for you to say.”

“I’m working with all of you, aren’t I?”

Valerie’s eyes snap to meet Paulina’s, then Kwan’s. She’d forgotten, somehow, that Paulina and Kwan (and she, once upon a time) had always treated him and his friends like garbage. She’d forgotten that for all that Phantom was her enemy, she’d once used his cousin (or whatever that relationship actually was, who the hell knows anymore) as bait to capture and torture him.

“Fine,” she said. Deliberately, she dropped her hand from her gun. “So how are we doing this?”

The ghost zone was a lot… greener than Paulina expected. It made sense, in retrospect: green was the color of ectoplasm after all, but in her head she always imagined it to have more of a Sam Manson aesthetic. Black. Maybe some purple. But deep and dark and depressing.

(Last time she saw Sam Manson, Manson’s eyes were totally black and she was clawing at Paulina’s face, spittle flying from her mouth. Not a totally unexpected reaction, she had to admit, but there was no intent or reason, just pure feral violence.)

“So,” she said, “where exactly are we going?”

“The Far Frozen,” Fenton said, hands white-knuckled on the steering. “I have friends there.”

“It, uh, sounds cold,” Kwan said. “I didn’t bring my jacket.” More like a swarm of zombie-football players had tried to drag him down by his collar and he’d only escaped by letting his letterman jacket slide off.

“Frostbite’ll have coats.”

“And what is Frostbite?” That was Valerie, still glaring at Fenton like he’d pissed in her Cheerios. Paulina really didn’t understand what her issue was. Sure, Paulina was shocked to find out that Fenton was her beloved ghost boy, but she was more awkward than angry. Valerie seemed to take the whole situation personally.

“He’s a yeti.”

“A yeti? A dead yeti?” Paulina crossed her arms. “Are you telling me that yetis are real?”

“Look, not all ghosts were once alive. Sometimes, they’re the ghosts of beliefs or ideals or stories. Things we used to think about and believe in. Pandora’s here, too, along with a lot of pantheons, but they won’t tell me if they were ever alive.” Fenton’s lips curled up in a little smile and his face softened. “I’ve been trying to weasel it out of them for months.”

They lapsed into another brief silence before Fenton spoke again.

“Look, if you have any other questions… now might be the best time. It’ll be a bit before we get to the Far Frozen, and I don’t know if we’ll have any time after that.”

Paulina had a million questions, but she couldn’t think of one she wanted to ask right now. How? Why? When? That could all wait until after the day was saved. Her nerves were still twitching and she dug her fingers into her wrist to stabilize, remember the now and not two hours ago, watching Star, black-eyed and snarling with one arm bent out of shape, leap for her throat. She said nothing.

“Are we… just gonna stay in the For Frozen?” Kwan said. “Like, while you save the world?”

“Far Frozen, and yeah. That was the plan.”

“I’m not staying in some frozen wasteland so you and your ghost buddies can fuck up saving the world.”

Paulina couldn’t help staring at Valerie. What the hell was she talking about? Phantom—Fenton—Danny had saved the world plenty of times before.

“I was talking about Kwan and Paulina, Val. I know you’d never stay out of it.”

Valerie curled her lip. “Just so we’re clear. I have to keep an eye on you, anyway.”

“What is your deal, girl?” Paulina said. “If you two are our best shot at saving the world, being pissy at each other isn’t going to help.”

“Stay out of it!”

“The world is ending! We don’t have time for you to be stubborn.”

Kwan shrank back at their raised voices. “Uh, I don’t think this is a good time to fight, either.”

“Of course you don’t. Since when do you ever think for yourself?”

“Hey!”

“Shut up! Just be quiet, all of you. Jesus.” Danny turned around to glare at them, his eyes flashing green. “Valerie and I have worked together before even though she hated me. We can do it again.”

Paulina wasn’t so sure about him using “hate” in the past tense there, but Valerie was nodding.

“I can put my personal feelings aside to save the world, and fuck you for thinking anything different. But then, I guess you never thought much of me, did you?”

“What are you—”

“Seriously? You have to ask?”

Paulina bit her lip. When Valerie’s dad lost his job, Valerie lost everything. Including her friends. Like Paulina. No, she thought after a moment, I suppose I don’t.

Danny groaned from the front. “I changed my mind. No more questions. Let’s just… be quiet.”

Paulina had to agree.

The Far Frozen was, in fact, cold.

Kwan shivered in just his black t-shirt, but truthfully, his letterman jacket would’ve only helped so much. This was a bitter cold, a deep-winter cold that took three blankets, a hot chocolate, and fuzzy socks to banish.

Kwan really hated the cold.

“Great One!” the yeti in front of them said, arms (one of flesh and fur, the other of ice and bone) spread wide like he was offering a hug. Was it some kind of yeti cultural thing?

Fenton jumped up and embraced the creature. Apparently, it was just an offer of a hug.

“What brings you to my domain?” the yeti said once he put Fenton down. “And with such strange company as well!”

Fenton rubbed the back of his neck. “We need your help, Frostbite.”

Kwan’s teeth started to chatter. Valerie and Paulina’s arms were dotted with gooseflesh, alongside his own. How was Fenton not fucking freezing?

“Can we have this conversation inside?” Paulina said, rubbing her arms.

“W-w-w-with jackets?” Kwan’s chattering teeth brought out a stutter. Embarrassing. “Ma-y-be a f-fire?”

“Of course!” the yeti said. “Your fragile human bodies require excess warmth to survive. Please, follow me.”

The yeti, who introduced himself as Frostbite, led them to a cave where they were each presented with a delightfully warm coat, almost thick enough to banish the cold from Kwan’s bones.

(Almost.)

Valerie spent the whole trek glaring at Frostbite like she expected him to turn around and start biting the second she took her eyes off of him. She kept one hand on her blaster the whole time. Kwan couldn’t imagine going through life with that kind of paranoia. It must be exhausting.

The cave itself was almost cozy. It was decorated, had furniture and artwork and books like it was someone’s office. With a jolt, Kwan realized that it was an office. Frostbite’s, most likely. On the wall, there was a portrait of Phantom (Fenton?) standing victorious. What the fuck.

“What’s with the whole ‘Great One’ thing, by the way?” Kwan said.

“It is demonstrative of our unending love and gratitude for the Great One, who saved us all from subjugation at the hands of the villainous Pariah Dark!”

Valerie snorted. “‘Villainous.’ Like you’re not.”

Frostbite tilted his head in confusion. Kwan hated to admit it, but it was kind of adorable. “I am unsure what your meaning is. I assure you that we denizens of the Far Frozen have no villainous aims with any friend of the Great One.”

“I’m not gullible enough to believe you.”

Frostbite opened his mouth to reply again, but Fenton cut him off.

“Just ignore her, Frostbite. You’re not going to change her mind and we don’t have time to argue. A new ghost is attacking Amity Park, and we need your help.”

It all happened so fast.

All four of them escaped by sheer luck. Kwan managed to dodge the football team and hide in the bleachers next to Paulina, who’d nearly been bitten by Star and Sam in the bathroom. Valerie put on the Red Huntress suit as soon as she realized what was happening, giving her some protection against the spreading infection. And Danny?

Well, Danny could fly.

Danny stumbled upon the other three by chance, checking through the school for anyone who’d managed to avoid the plague, though he didn’t have much hope. He’d found Kwan, Paulina, and Valerie—two useless people and one who absolutely hated him.

Still, he couldn’t leave them there, unprotected. He grabbed Paulina and Valerie hoisted Kwan on her hoverboard and they’d raced to FentonWorks.

He’d intended to stay in ghost form the whole time, but he hadn’t realized that the infected were still capable of reason, at least on some level. That their attacks weren’t mindless. That his mom could hit him with an ectogun that would short out his powers, however temporarily.

And now three new people know who he is.

Three new people who he can’t trust in the slightest.

(What if they tell people? His parents? The school? The Guys in White?)

But he can’t worry about that, because the world is ending.

“I see,” Frostbite said after Danny had explained the situation. “This is… worrisome. If it escaped—”

“It? Frostbite, do you know what this is?”

“Mm. It sounds like Pestilence.”

Danny frowned. “Like… pesto?”

Paulina scoffed and whacked Danny on the head. “No, idiot. Pestilence. Like disease and stuff.”

“Yes. Considered by certain branches of Christianity to be one of the four Horsemen that herald the apocalypse.”

“One of four? You mean there’s three other horse-guys?”

“Indeed. The belief in this specific end of days has largely died out in the modern day, so the Horsemen became ghosts. However, they were so dangerous, so suddenly, that we ghosts banded together three hundred years ago to seal them away. If one of them is out…”

“...then the others might be out, too.” Danny rubbed at his forehead. “This gets better and better. What are the other three?”

“War, Famine, and Death,” Paulina said, counting them off on her fingers. Valerie raised an eyebrow at her. “What? Everyone knows that.”

“You are correct, Delicate One.”

“Um, my name’s Paulina.”

“None of those sound good.” Kwan scratched his head. “Also, why is Death separate? Don’t War and Famine and Pestilence all kill people? Does Death extra kill people or something?”

Frostbite shrugged. “How should I know? I’m already dead.”

“Can you be dead if you were never alive?”

“In any event,” Frostbite said, “your best chance is to put Pestilence back before any of the others break free.”

“And how are we supposed to do that, ghost? We barely escaped in the first place!”

Valerie had a point: they knew what they were fighting, now, but it didn’t solve the problem of we can’t beat this guy. Danny rubbed his temples. Maybe if he could get Skulker to work with them, Skulker would help convince the rest of the Ghost Zone and they might actually have a shot.

“Your best chance is finding the Panacea.”

Danny scrunched his eyebrows. “The what?”

“Panacea is, like, a mythical elixir thing that can heal any disease.” Danny, Kwan, and Valerie stared at Paulina, who was tapping on her phone. She looked up at them and rolled her eyes. “What? Everyone knows that.”

“Okay, so where’s this Panaderia at?” Valerie said.

“Patience, Suspicious One. Allow me to explain.”

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“The Panacea is hidden in the far reaches of the Ghost Zone, near Pariah’s Keep.” Frostbite pulled out the Infi-Map from his desk and rolled it out on the desk. “Legend tells that Pariah wanted it for himself, but could never get through its protections.”

“Protections? Like—ghosts and shit?”

“Not quite. The story goes that there are three trials one must overcome to obtain the Panacea. The first is a trial of courage. The second is a trial of compassion. And the third is a trial of truth.”

Valerie threw her hands up in the air. “What the hell does any of that mean?”

“The legend does not specify.”

“Of course,” Paulina said, “because when the world’s at stake, you want as much ambiguity as possible.”

“Quite.”

Courage, compassion, and truth. Well, Danny was decently brave. He spent half his time fighting ghosts, at least, and protecting people. It had to count for something. Compassion… he could probably work on that part, but he did care about people. That’s why he protected them. Truth?

That was a little stickier.

He lied, all the time. It was for a good reason, but he wasn’t sure the trials would see it that way. Maybe he would just have to tell the truth in the moment? Ugh, this whole thing was so complicated.

Maybe Valerie would do better at the truth thing. Though, she also had a secret identity. Whatever. They’d figure it out.

Lost in his thoughts, Danny didn’t notice Valerie approaching him until her hand wrapped around his arm and she pulled him away.

“Woah, what are you—” Danny squeezed his eyes shut as he was yanked back into the bright light of the outside. The snow sparkled in the glow that permeated the Ghost Zone almost like sunlight, but half as warm.

“If you and I are going to do this, we should have a plan.”

“A plan for what? We don’t even know what these trials will look like.”

Valerie’s hand tightened around his bicep. “So you just want to fly in blind? Hide behind me and let me figure it out so you can swoop in and ‘save the day’ or some bullshit?”

“That is not remotely what I—”

“Save it! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. For years. And I—I actually thought that you cared about me, which is the really stupid part.”

“I do care about you, Val.” Danny reached for her arm and she flinched back. He sighed and stared at the ground.

“No, you don’t. You can’t. Ghosts don’t care about anything or anyone. You just like the attention. You like the praise. You may have everyone else fooled but I see what you are. No more tricks, Phantom.”

Danny choked out a laugh. “And you wonder why I lied to you.”

Valerie sneered. “No, actually. It all makes perfect sense, ghost.”

His eyes stung, which was stupid. They really didn’t have time for him to go cry in a corner because Valerie didn’t like him. But his feelings didn’t care about the facts, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Whatever,” he said, and he tried to ignore how his voice cracked. “Let’s just get through this.”

“Yeah,” Valerie said. “Let’s get through this and then never talk to each other again.”

He’d really thought he could talk to her, if she ever found out. He’d really thought he could convince her. That hurt the most, he realized: he’d always known she’d be mad, but after what happened with Dani, there should’ve been room for them to be friends as Valerie and Danny and as Red Huntress and Phantom.

He was the stupid one, it turned out.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Valerie turned away. “It is what I want.”

“Okay.”

They fell into awkward silence.

“So—”

Distant screaming cut Danny off.

Somewhere along the way, wires had gotten crossed in Danny’s brain. Screams of terror and pain were usually a sign that people should stay away. If some did get closer, it was usually out of curiosity and panic would take over once that curiosity was sated. Danny, of course, ran straight for the danger every time.

So he wasn’t surprised, exactly, when one of the yetis, eyes dripping black, lunged for him. He’d run into enough fights that ducking out of the way of her claws was second nature. Beside him, Valerie blasted the infected yeti away. Of course. Valerie was just like him: she ran into danger.

“We need to get out of here!” She fired again at another yeti, snarling in the snow.

Danny reached for the electric cold in his chest, but it was still weak and flickering from the gun his mom had used. He was powerless.

“Danny!” Before he could blink, something slammed into him and he was speeding away from the yetis on Valerie’s jetboard.

“Wait—Wait!” Struggling to stand on a fast, open-air vehicle, he pulled himself up using Valerie’s shoulder and she shot him a withering glare. “We can’t just leave them there!”

“Us getting infected doesn’t help anyone, and you trying to play hero to get on my good side won’t work anyway.”

“I’m not—” The jetboard tilted to avoid a leaping yeti. “Why won’t you listen—”

“I did listen to you! And you lied. So I’m done with that.”

Valerie angled down to the cave entrance where Kwan, Paulina, and Frostbite were and jerked to a stop. Danny couldn’t stop his momentum and tumbled off onto the floor of the cave, landing at Paulina’s feet.

“Um, hi?” Paulina said.

“We have a problem,” Valerie said.

Apparently the “problem” was a horde of zombie yetis right on Valerie and Danny’s tail. Paulina thought “problem” was underselling it a bit.

One black-eyed yeti burst through the opening, only for Frostbite to slam his flesh arm into it, knocking it into another oncoming yeti. He then hit a panel on the wall and sealed the cave shut. Panting, he lumbered over to Danny, green goo staining his pristine white fur, grabbed the map-thing off the desk, and thrust it into Danny’s arms.

“Great One and friends, you must take the Infi-Map and find the Panacea.” The yeti looked down at the goo (his blood?) and groaned in pain. “I fear I shall soon turn as well.”

“Frostbite…” Danny said, reaching out one hand like he wanted to comfort him. And wasn’t it weird, to think of a ghost needing comfort?

“Great One, you do not have time to worry about me. Help me by bringing back the Panacea and saving us all. You must go now, before I lose my rationality and attack you as well.”

Danny squeezed his eyes like he was staving off tears. “Okay. I—okay. I’m sorry.”

Paulina felt bad for the dork (hero), really, but they so didn’t have time for this. She latched onto his arm and yanked him away from Frostbite, who was starting to snarl. “Thank you, Mr. Frostbite,” she said. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Everybody hang on,” Danny said, opening the map. Paulina tightened her grip as Valerie and Kwan grabbed on. “Take us to the Panacea.”

Frostbite jumped at them, teeth bared, and the map whisked them away in a green light. Paulina wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this was not it. The sudden acceleration stole a scream from her throat, and the rush of air brought tears to her eyes. The last thing she saw was Frostbite’s icy arm, outstretched, and then she could see nothing but motion.

There was nothing to do but hang on for dear life, then all of a sudden they were standing again, in a cavernous hall. Paulina wobbled on her feet, then vomited.

A hand rubbed at her back, and she turned to see Kwan, awkward half-smile on his face. “You okay?”

The hall was massive and crumbling, stone pillars in pieces. A mosaic pattern tiled the floor, and she looked up to see a perfect reflection in the roof, except for a couple of holes where the swirling Ghost Zone peeked through.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Except for, you know.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, that.” She bent over and spat a couple times, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. She’d lost her water bottle sometime in the multiple life threatening situations they’d been in in the past 4 or so hours, so saliva was her best option. “We weren’t supposed to be here. We were supposed to just sit there in that frozen wasteland and be safe. I can’t do this, Kwan.”

“But you have to, now,” Valerie said. Her voice was firm, but not unkind. “We’re all here, and there’s no half-assing this like you half-ass school, alright?”

“Excuse you?”

“We both know you could do just fine in school if you tried, Polly! You’re smart, girl. And we need smart on this mission, not smart trying to be stupid.”

Paulina stared for just a moment, then laughed. “Girl, that was the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever heard.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. “At least it was a compliment.”

“Setting our bar real low here, huh?”

“Paulina, when my dad lost his job, you all dumped me as soon as you heard. I lost everything, and then I lost all my friends. You’re damn lucky I’m not just cussing you out.”

The words were almost humorous, but there was a bite to Valerie’s tone now. Paulina couldn’t blame her.

“Listen, I wanted to say—”

“Guys!” Danny's voice echoed through the chamber. “I found something!”

Paulina swore as Valerie and Kwan both ran over to where Danny stood in front of a massive double door.

“Is that—”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I think it’s the entrance. The trials are probably through here.”

“So,” Kwan said, pushing on the giant stone doors, “how do we—”

As he spoke, the doors lit up and slowly, slowly, rumbled open.

“Huh,” Kwan said.

It was dark inside. The glow of the Ghost Zone seemed to come to a complete halt, swallowed by whatever was beyond the threshold.

Paulina didn’t like it.

“Let’s all go through together,” Danny said.

Paulina nodded, grabbing Danny and Kwan. She couldn’t speak, her mouth suddenly dry. Why was she here? She wasn’t ready for something like this. She couldn’t save the world! Oh god, she needed to get out of here—

As one, they stepped through the door.

Kwan blinked.

“What?”

It was the Casper High cafeteria, except the Casper High cafeteria should be overrun with Pestilence’s zombies right now. But there was Dash and Paulina and Star (wasn’t Paulina back—where—what—what… day was it? Tuesday? Right, right. They had an essay due in Lancer’s class. Of course. Kwan had stayed up all night writing about… writing about…)

“Dude!” Dash said, waving Kwan over. “You ready to pummel Brantford tonight?” The last part of his sentence became a shout, directed at the whole cafeteria. Students applauded. Dash stood with one leg on his seat and one on the table, a true showman. Over in the corner, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, and Tucker Foley rolled their eyes. Dash threw his milk carton and beaned Fenton (Danny?) in the head. Milk splashed down his head.

Something twisted in Kwan’s gut.

Dash let out a roar and ripped off his shirt, tearing it in half. The cafeteria screamed in approval.

Kwan grinned up at Dash. For all his flaws, Kwan loved this guy.

(black, black blood dripping from his mouth and eyes, Dash snarling, reaching for Kwan—)

Kwan jerked back and tore his eyes away. Dash didn’t notice as his best friend looked for the exit. Kwan’s heart pounded. It wasn’t real. Not real. Just a bad dream. Or was this…?

In the background, Valerie (his friend? not his friend? no, no, they’d dropped her because she’d lost everything, right? but no, no that was cruel, too cruel even for Dash and Paulina, that couldn’t be right) was sneaking out the door just as Danny Fenton gasped and rushed in the same direction.

Something wasn’t right.

“Hey dude,” Kwan said, “I gotta run to the bathroom.”

Dash didn’t acknowledge him. He was leading the cafeteria in the Casper High fight song.

Kwan ran after Valerie and Fenton (Danny), bursting through the cafeteria doors just in time to see them turn the corner. “Wait!” he said, sprinting toward their shadows. Rounding the corner, he saw the Red Huntress and Danny Phantom (Valerie and Fenton—Danny, Danny, it’s Danny, Danny wants to be called his name, remember that he has to remember that—it was Valerie and Danny behind the heroes, he knew that, though he wasn’t sure how he knew) fighting a ghost.

It was massive and ugly, all claws and teeth and glowing fur. Kwan couldn’t see any eyes, but he’d learned after years of dealing with ghosts that that didn’t necessarily mean that it couldn’t see. It had six legs and two jaws that opened in concert to let out an earsplitting screech.

Glowing green spittle flew out of its unholy maw and landed on Kwan’s letterman jacket. Gross.

The ghost slammed Danny into a locker with one leg and used another to pin Valerie to the ground. It lowered its face to Valerie’s, ready to take a taste.

“Hey!” Kwan said, throwing the first thing he could grab—his phone—at the ghost. It bounced harmlessly off its head, but startled the ghost enough that Valerie was able to slip out of its hold and Danny was able to knock it down. A flash of light from Danny’s thermos, and the ghost was gone.

“Are you okay?” Kwan said. Valerie’s suit retracted and Danny transformed back into Fenton. Both of them were bruised, Danny cradling his ribs, but they were upright.

“We’re fine,” Valerie said with a glare.

“Hey,” Kwan said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Yeah, right.” Danny snorted and looked away. Kwan could still see milk in his hair.

Kwan frowned. “Look, I know it wasn’t much, but I’m just a guy! I did what I could!”

“Yeah, you did. Probably saved our lives with that phone.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You only care because we’re heroes!” Valerie got in his face so he could clearly see the bruise lining her cheek. “You wouldn’t care if we were hurt because your bestie decided he wanted a punching bag. Helping the Red Huntress and Danny Phantom isn’t a risk to you. It makes you a hero! You’re so cool for helping to save the day. But you’d never help Valerie and Danny because what if someone saw ?”

“That’s not…”

“Face it, Kwan. You’re a coward. Always will be.”

Then they were gone, and Kwan was alone in the middle of a destroyed hallway.

“Kwan,” Dash said, “we need you to be on your a-game for this. They’ve got a real beast on their D-line, and you’re the only one with a chance of keeping him off me. I don’t wanna spend the whole game with my ass on the grass, so I’m counting on you, okay?”

Kwan blinked. They were huddled on the field, in full pads. Dash was giving the pre-game directions. It was gametime. Wasn’t it lunchtime? Or… was he… what?

“Kwan!”

“Uh, yeah! Yes. I’ve got it. Big guy, coming right at me. Yep.”

Was he going crazy? Something was wrong. Something other than what Valerie and Danny had said to him.

(And it was wrong, it had to be. He wasn’t a coward. He faced scary stuff all the time—a hazard of living in Amity Park. He couldn’t be a coward.)

The nameless d-lineman stared him down, eyes black as pitch behind the grill of his helmet. Kwan took a deep breath as he lined up against him. He could do this. This was easy. He was made for this.

A flash of green in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head just as Dash hiked the ball, and his mark blew right past him, laying Dash on the ground while Kwan stood, dumbly staring at the green he knew had to signal another ghost attack.

“Kwan!” Dash ignored the hand offered by one of the other offensive linemen. “What the hell, dude?”

Kwan jerked back. “What?” He took in the scene: Dash, with a clump of grass stuck in his helmet and dirt on his jersey. The ball, being moved backward by the referee. His teammates, glaring at him. “Oh. Oh, sorry. Just—I think there’s a ghost over there?” He pointed at the green light.

“So?” Dash said. “There’s always a ghost. Leave it for Huntress or Phantom to deal with. We’ve got a game!”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Danny and Valerie could totally handle it. They were heroes. It’s what they did. And football was what Kwan did. Division of labor and all that stuff.

And the thing is that Kwan was really good at football. He was the best left tackle in the state, easy. His coach said he could be the next Tony Boselli—though, hopefully without the injuries. With his mind on the game, no one got even close to Dash before he’d thrown the ball.

The forest glowed again. Kwan ignored it. There were eight minutes left on the clock for the second quarter.

A piercing scream floated over the field. Kwan turned to see Valerie, in her Red Huntress gear, slam into the ground head-first before being dragged back into the woods like a limp puppet.

“Oh shit.” This was bad. Valerie was hurt, bad. She wasn’t half-ghost like Danny. She was just a person. She needed medical care, and fast.

Could Kwan help?

Should Kwan help?

Kwan shook his head. Head injuries were no joke; he’d heard it from Coach often enough. Valerie needed help, and she needed it now. There was no time to wait for someone else to realize the problem.

He turned to leave the field.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dash said, catching his arm just as he reached the sideline.

“She’s hurt,” Kwan said. “She needs help.”

“We have a fucking game to play.” Dash’s fingers curled in the grill of Kwan’s helmet and jerking him around so their helmets clacked together. This close, Kwan could see the faint line of Dash’s eyelashes, the bright blue of his eyes. He thought about apologizing. He thought about kissing him.

How long had he been in love with his best friend? More importantly, how long had he let his best friend be an asshole because he loved him?

“I’m an idiot,” Kwan said.

“You don’t hear me arguing! Now get back on the damn field.”

“No.” Kwan almost continued, almost listed everything wrong with Dash, all the times he’d put everyone else around him down, all the people he’d hurt, how he’d hurt Kwan, even, but Dash would never, ever hear him. He knew that now. “I’m outta here,” he said instead, ripping off his helmet and sprinting toward where he’d last seen Valerie and Danny.

The world vanished.

Kwan blinked, and he was back in the chamber, staring at Valerie, Danny, and Paulina. “A test of courage…” he said to himself.

It was just like the room they first came into: a little more together, more whole, but otherwise almost identical. Across the room was another massive set of double doors. He turned around and saw the door, the first chamber beyond it. He’d barely stepped inside. It couldn’t have been more than a second or two.

“Yeah,” Valerie said with an eye roll, “that’s what we’ve been say—”

Kwan cut her off by sweeping her up in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that I never stuck up for you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I was too scared to help you even when I knew it was wrong.”

Valerie froze, stiff in his arms. “What?”

“You were right, this whole time. I was a coward and a jerk and I’m sorry.”

Kwan could feel Danny and Paulina’s eyes on him, but for right now, all his focus was on Valerie.

“What the hell are you—”

“I was a really terrible friend to you. We all were. You were hurting and we all made it worse.”

Valerie pulled back. “You’re serious. This… you mean this.”

“Yeah. I mean it more than anything I’ve ever said to you before.

“You—do you think I’ll forgive you? Just like that?”

Kwan let her go. “No. You always could hold a grudge.” He looked her in the eye. “I still needed to say it.”

Valerie nodded, a rough jerk of her head. “Okay. Just so we’re clear. Not forgiven.” She looked off-balance and confused. It figured, since Kwan had very much just dropped this on her with no warning. Whatever vision he’d received, it seemed like it was limited to him and only him.

“That’s okay. Let me know if it changes?”

Valerie stared at him for a long moment, brow furrowed, before it smoothed and one corner of her lips curled in a smile. “Whatever.”

Kwan grinned. “I’ll get there.”

Paulina coughed. “Uh, not to break up a tender moment, but can we save it for after we get the magic potion?”

“Unfortunately, Paulina’s right,” Danny said. “Not that this isn’t great, but we need to figure out the test of courage. We’re running out of time.”

Kwan was pretty sure he’d already seen it, but he didn’t even know where to begin with explaining. Instead, he said, “Danny! You, too! I was also a jerk to you, when you didn’t deserve it and I knew you didn’t deserve it. I’m so sorry about that. I wanted to be liked but I—”

“Woah woah woah,” Danny said. “I… appreciate it, but we really don’t have the time right now, dude.”

“No. No, see, this is exactly the time. I think this is my test, okay? Well, some of it. Part two, or whatever. Part one was this weird vision thing that I had to go through like some kinda fucked up dream. And I think part two is—well, bringing it into the real world.” Obviously, he couldn’t bring the ghost attack and the football game into this real world, but realizing he was wrong? Taking responsibility?

He could do that.

“How is apologizing to us a test of courage?” Danny said, head tilted in confusion.

“I was scared of… something really fucking dumb, now that I think about it. And I hurt people because of it.” Kwan glanced at Paulina, who was looking anywhere but his face. “I’m not going to let it control me anymore. And I’m sorry that I ever did.”

Silence for a moment, like the room was holding its breath, then the entire chamber began to shake. The doors at the end of the room swung open and revealed another pitch black unknown beyond them.

“Wait. That was it?” Paulina said. “You’re telling me the Ghost King couldn’t get through these trials, but Kwan did it by saying I’m sorry?”

“Woo!” Kwan said, pumping his fists in the air. Take that, Mr. Lancer’s final exam. Who was going to achieve nothing in life now? Not Kwan, he passed the Trial of Courage. Official and capitalized. Helping to save the world and all that shit.

“Well, let’s not look this particular gift horse in the mouth. Are we all ready for the next chamber?” Danny said.

Paulina coughed. “Hang on, does anyone have a breath mint? My mouth still tastes nasty.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kwan fished in his pocket and held out a stick of gum.

“Thanks.”

“Ooh, can I have some?” Danny said.

“Sure, dude!” He grabbed three more sticks of gum, handed on to Danny, who grinned, stuck one in his mouth, and held out the last one for Valerie. “Val? You want in on this?”

Valerie stared at the gum like she thought it might bite her. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. She took the gum with her thumb and forefinger, delicately. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s get a move on.”

As they headed for the inky blackness at the far end of the room, Kwan felt something grab his arm. He whirled around to see Danny, hand curled around Kwan’s elbow.

“Thank you,” Danny said, “for, y’know.”

“The gum?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not—I meant for apologizing.”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah. Honestly, should have done it forever ago. Just kept coming up with excuses, y’know?” Kwan laughed. “An apology was really the bare minimum.”

Danny let go of his arm and started walking again. “You’d be surprised. I can’t remember the last time anyone apologized for hurting me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Dude, that’s messed—”

They crossed the threshold.

Paulina was much more confident going into the next chamber. These trials were easy! If all Kwan had to do was apologize, then compassion was probably something like saving a kitten and truth was something like—well, she was less sure about that one. Maybe just telling a secret? Or something?

Except—something was different. Last time, they’d walked in and immediately the chamber had brightened. Kwan apparently had some weird vision as part of his trial, of course, but none of that happened.

Instead, it was still pitch black, and she could no longer feel Valerie’s arm where she’d latched on, or Kwan’s hand. “Guys?” she said, and her voice was swallowed by the void. “Hello?”

“—see her haircut?—”

“—the look on his—”

“—honestly thought I liked her!”

Paulina’s voice, first a whisper, then louder and louder until she couldn’t hear her own thoughts. Her laughter, shrill and piercing, reverberated through the space. She pressed her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to block out the noise. Her head started to pound and hot tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!” She was sure she yelled the words, but she still couldn’t hear over her own laughter.

“Why? Why should I stop?”

“It hurts. It hurts!”

“Aw, but that’s never stopped you before!”

It was so loud. A sudden, sharp pain in her ear and she could feel warm liquid on the hand covering it.

“Please! Please! I’ll do anything!”

Suddenly, silence. Paulina fell to the floor with relief. She pulled her hands away from her head; the right one was wet and smelled of metal. Liquid dripped from her ear—had it started to bleed?

“Anything?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Entertain me!”

“I—what?”

In front of her, stark against the black of the room, Valerie appeared, then Danny, then Mikey, then Sam Manson, then Tucker Foley, more and more and more of her classmates, standing and blinking in confusion at her.

But she was with Valerie and—or was she? But Manson was definitely not—this couldn’t be real. Was this real? She stared at her hand. Was she real?

“Paulina?” Valerie said. She sounded like she was underwater. The black of the room turned into a hallway. Casper High. It was—Friday. There was a football game she had to cheer for. She needed total focus for that. If only the stupid voice would leave her alone.

“I said entertain me!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Valerie stared at her. “It’s your name, girl. Are you okay?”

“Make jokes! Like you always do. I gave you your material and everything!”

Material? Paulina looked at the crowd, and realized that all of them were… well, losers. The voice just wanted her to make fun of them?

Nothing she hadn’t done before.

“I’m better than you, apparently,” Paulina said, ignoring the pit in her stomach. “What were you thinking with that outfit?” It was a dumb, dumb comment. Low effort. It was just—in that moment, Paulina couldn’t think of anything to mock. Nothing about Valerie seemed worth jeering at.

Valerie looked down at her—admittedly, fine—shirt and frowned. “Jesus. What is your prob—your ear’s bleeding!”

Sure enough, pus and blood painted the palm of Paulina’s hand, and she could still feel something rolling down her neck.

(“Still”? When did this happen?)

“We need to get you to the nurse’s office,” Manson said, crouching down beside her. Why was Paulina on the floor?

“Oh,” she said. Manson offered her a hand up, and she took it. “Thank you. Sorry, Valerie. Your shirt’s fine.”

A piercing screech, metal on metal, filled the air. Paulina doubled over, hands back over her ears.

“That wasn’t funny, Polly!”

She could feel hands on her arms, but her eyes were squeezed shut and she could hear nothing but the voice and its (her) hideous laughter.

“You just want me to be mean!”

“Duh! Mean is funny, right?”

Paulina opened her eyes just enough to see Valerie, Manson, Foley, and Danny in front of her, concern in the lines of their faces. Danny’s mouth was moving.

“Look! It’s the little tech weirdo. He names all his phones. Like, unironically.” Foley stood up and directed other students away. Danny moved past her to do the same on the other side of the hallway. “Or the ghost kid. His parents were already freaks, and now he’s an extra special kind of freak. Easy money.”

“Please. Please just stop.”

“Entertain me, and I will. Tit-for-tat, babe.”

Paulina felt a sob jump out of her throat. Why wasn’t she just doing it? It hurt so bad. She’d do anything for it to stop.

So why wasn’t she doing this?

“I don’t want to!” she wailed. What she must sound like. What she must look like. Surrounded by people who had every reason to hate her, bleeding and crying and talking to nothing. “Pick something else!”

“But you do it all the time.”

“I change my mind, then!”

Was it that simple? All along? Could she just—change her mind? Be a better person?

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt people anymore!”

The noise, somehow, got louder. Paulina vomited. Something wet trickled from her other ear. She wanted this to end. But she didn’t want to hurt people to do it. Why did she only get two options?

“So you’ll get hurt instead?”

“No!” She curled in on herself, falling back to her knees and closing her eyes again. “You’re choosing to hurt me. You could choose not to!”

“And, what? That’ll make it better? You’ll forgive me and we’ll be best friends?”

If Paulina could think clearly, if she could do anything beyond speak the first thing that sprung to her lips, she might have lied. She might have said “Of course I’ll forgive you” so the stupid voice might listen to her. This, however, was not a choice she had the brainpower to make right now.

Instead, she said: “Of course not! You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Then why should I?”

“Because I’m a person and it hurts!”

“You’re a little late to that realization, querida. Wasn’t Valerie a person when you ditched her? Do you think you can be Valerie’s friend again after this? That you can prove yourself to her or something?”

“I can’t fix it! But I can stop making it worse!”

The noise stopped. Blessed silence returned.

Paulina looked up through tear-blurred eyes and saw Valerie, Danny, and Kwan crouched over her. She couldn’t hear past the ringing in her ears

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat ached. She must have been yelling, before. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The exhaustion hit her all at once. Her ears pulsed with pain as she continued to babble apologies. The ground shook beneath her and Kwan caught her before she could topple over. A hand rubbed at her back, soothing circles, and she curled into Kwan’s chest.

“Think ‘m gon’ sleep, now, mkay?” she said, and then she was out.

“Holy shit,” Danny said, collapsing next to Paulina and Kwan and brushing the hair out of her face. “Is she—is she okay?”

Kwan held his fingers over her wrists. “I think so. Her ears are bleeding, though.”

“What happened?” Valerie said. “Your trial wasn’t anything like this!”

“I don’t know! It’s not like I’m an expert.”

“Stop yelling,” Paulina said, shifting against Kwan’s chest. “I can’t really hear you anyway.”

“Polly!” Kwan said, naked relief on his face. “Are you okay?”

Paulina pointed to her ears. “I can’t hear you, querido. My ears—it was really loud. In the trial.”

Dried blood still stained her neck. Danny had a feeling that “really loud” was an understatement.

In halting sentences, Paulina explained her trial. The voice, the laughter, the deal for making the pain stop. Danny was impressed; he wasn’t sure he would have withstood it, in her position. He could understand, now, how Pariah wouldn’t have made it through the trials.

They asked questions throughout, which Paulina couldn’t hear. It got a little better when they spoke slower and enunciated, but it would be a struggle until her ears healed, Danny feared.

“Let’s go over what we know,” Danny said, counting off on his fingers. “One, in both of the trials, only one person was picked to do the trial. Two, neither of you remembered it was a trial while it was happening, right?”

Kwan and Paulina both shook their heads, though Paulina winced as she did it. “It felt real,” Kwan said. “Like—I knew something was wrong, but whenever I tried to focus on that wrongness, it vanished.”

“I knew it was a trial at first,” Paulina said, throat scratchy, “but when it got too loud, I couldn’t really think straight. Then I was in school, and I completely forgot about the trial thing, even though the noise was still there. I forgot it wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Danny wanted to apologize to Paulina, for getting her involved in this, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t exactly appreciate it. She looked rough. Dried tear-streaks on her face that she hadn’t wiped off yet, hair a mess like she tried to rip it out, blood trails from her ears. They were pretty sure she’d burst both eardrums during her trial.

(It was a little over-the-top, Danny thought, to torture someone in a trial of compassion. Paulina had her flaws, sure, but that didn’t mean she needed to be hurt to learn a lesson. Kwan’s trial had really lulled them all into a false sense of security.)

(He could see, now, why Pariah Dark could never make it through.)

“Three, the trials seem to pick people on purpose.” His eyes slid over to Kwan and Paulina. “I think it picks based on those who… struggle the most with the thing the trial is all about.”

“Huh?” Paulina said. Right. She could only kind of hear right now.

“He said the trials picked us because I’m a coward and you’re mean.”

Danny winced. “That’s not—”

“Oh. Well, duh.”

“So, if truth’s next, it’ll be you, right?” Valerie said, looking Danny up and down.

“Hey!”

“You’re the one with the big secrets here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you forget that you have a secret identity, too?” Danny felt like Valerie was probably right, all things considered. His secret was, ultimately, way bigger than hers.

Still, she was getting on his nerves. He’d known she had a grudge against ghosts, especially him, but this was getting ridiculous. For fuck’s sake, she’d worked better with him on Skulker’s island, when she thought he was a full ghost.

“No, but my dad knows all about it. And so did you, apparently, though you lied about that, too.”

“Oh, wow, two whole people. Except that I told your dad, not you. And you never told me anything! I happened to find out on my own.”

“Uh, guys?” Kwan said.

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Okay, yeah. But we broke up because I didn’t want to endanger you. And now it turns out you can take care of yourself just fine!”

“Oh, so if you knew I was half dead, we’d still be together? That’s my fault now?”

“Of course we wouldn’t. But I lied to you to protect you. You lied to me to protect yourself!”

“Yeah! I did! Now think for, like, two seconds about what I needed protection from!”

“Guys!” Kwan said. “Could you stop?”

“You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe it will be me. But not because I lie more than you. Maybe these tests are meant for humans only.”

Danny felt his eyes flash green. “So that’s what this is about? You hate me because I’m a freak?”

“I hate you because—”

“Okay!” Kwan said, jumping between them. “I think this conversation needs to stop immediately, before you both say… even more things you will regret. Valerie, dude, I know we’re just now trying to maybe be friends again, but as your maybe-future friend: you’ve gotta lay off.”

Danny stared and blinked at Kwan a couple times. Was Kwan… defending him?

“You’re taking his side?”

“Yeah, I am. I think you both need to cool down, but you’re wrong about this. And I think you know it, too.”

Valerie huffed. “I’m not wrong.”

Danny was so, so tired. “Okay.” He turned away and walked over to Paulina, who was still on the ground, and offered her a hand.

She stared up at him before grabbing on and pulling herself up. “She is wrong. She’s just… stubborn.”

Danny sighed. “You heard all that?”

“Bits and pieces. I got the gist. Hey, do you think the Panacea will fix my ears?” Danny opened his mouth to reply, but Paulina kept talking. “Never mind. What I mean is: sorry you had to hear that. I know you care about her, you know? It must really suck to hear this stuff from her in particular.”

“Yeah, I knew she wouldn’t take it well, but I didn’t think she’d take it this badly. I mean, she was okay with Danielle!”

“I’ll be real with you, I only caught like half of that, but, uh, who’s Danielle?”

Oh, duh. Danny smacked himself in the face. “Right, sorry. Danielle’s my half-ghost cousin. Well, we call each other cousins, but technically she’s my clone. She’s her own person, and all that but—yeah. Anyway, the guy who cloned her is also a giant asshole and he was planning to melt her down to study her remains, but Valerie helped me save her.” This time, he spoke a bit louder, and made sure to enunciate so Paulina could try to read his lips too.

“Dude. You have a clone?”

“Yeah.”

“Someone cloned you?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?”

Danny laughed. “Yeah, that’s about right. He’s a real fruitloop, that Vlad.”

“Hang on—not Vlad Masters?”

Danny laughed harder. “Yep!”

“What the fuck, babe!”

“You’re telling me.”

“Why?”

Danny started to answer, then thought better of it. It was, after all, a long story, and he had a feeling that, although she was great at faking it, Paulina was still only catching parts of what he said. “I’ll tell you when your ears are better,” he said, tugging on his own then pointing at hers to make his point clearer.

Paulina rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that! This is some juicy, juicy gossip”—Danny flashed her a panicked look—“that I will take to my grave and never speak of again.”

Paulina kept talking as they rejoined Kwan and Valerie. Mostly jokes about how he should change his ghostly outfit (“Seriously, querido, you’d look great in a crop-top!”) or about him out-gothing Sam (“You went and died! Manson will never be that hardcore.”).

Maybe he and Paulina could be friends after this.

Valerie was sure she was right.

She was sure she was right as she and Kwan waited in stony silence for Paulina and—for the others to join them. She was sure she was right as they walked in a group, the other three linking arms while she refused Kwan’s hand. She was sure she was right as they crossed into the black.

She was less sure when the room stayed dark.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she said. She worried at her lip for a moment, then yelled, “I’m the Red Huntress! Is that the truth this thing wants?”

“Uh, yeah,” Danny said. “I already know that, Val.”

Valerie grinned, just a little. It wasn’t like anyone could see her, and the fact that he was here, too? Vindicating. “Well, look at that. It’s both of us!”

“Yeah? It’s both of us. Together. In some strange room. In the dark.”

“Okay, well I said my big truth. You say yours.”

“What? Why?”

“We need to get through this trial, dumbass!”

“Trial?”

“Yeah, the truth trial. Obviously we’re both in it—wait. You don’t know it’s a trial! Ha, then this is totally your trial and I just got pulled in for… reasons. I knew it!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why is it so dark? Where are we?”

Valerie waved him off, though he couldn’t see it. “Oh, that’s not important. What is important is that you need to tell the truth. Probably to me, which is why I’m here.” Yeah, that made sense. He needed to tell the truth about how he’d hurt her, how he’d hurt everyone, how he’d played hero to earn his fawning fans. He needed to stop pretending to be something he wasn’t. And she was here because she deserved to hear it directly from him.

“What truth? Again, Val, what are you talking about?”

“Stop calling me Val. We’re not friends.”

“What do you—”

“Did the trial make you forget? I know you’re a ghost.”

“Oh.”

“I destroy ghosts.”

“But… But I’m also a human.”

“You’re a liar, is what you are.”

“For good reason.”

“No, I’m a liar for good reason. You’re just a coward!”

There was a long moment of silence where Valerie could only hear her own heaving breaths. Then, softly: “Wouldn’t you be?”

“No!”

“Really? You wouldn’t be the slightest bit afraid that people would try to kill you?”

“No one would kill you.”

“You said you know I’m a ghost and then immediately threatened to destroy me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Oh? How was I supposed to take ‘I destroy ghosts’ then? A joke?”

“Stop trying to turn this around on me. You’re the one who needs to tell the truth!”

“What truth? You already know the secret!”

“I’m talking about the rest of it! How you lie and manipulate people, how you fake being a hero, how you ruined my life!”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Gah! It’s impossible to talk to you about this shit.” There was a rustling sound, like he was walking away.

“Hang on! You can’t walk away; you still need to complete your trial!” She ran to where she heard him moving, tripped, and then she was falling, falling, falling…

…and landing with a thud in the same black void.

“She’s a ghost! And I destroy ghosts.”

“But she’s also a human!”

Was that… her? Back when they had been talking about Danielle. Danielle, who was human and ghost and just a little girl. Valerie and—they had saved her from Vlad, who was also human and ghost.

“Was this a trick, too? Was Danielle a liar, too?” she yelled. No answer. “Where the hell did you go? We aren’t done here!”

“Valerie?”

Valerie twitched. That voice—

There, bright and glowing against the blackness of the room, was Danielle.

“Valerie!” Danielle said with a grin, flying forward and giving her a hug. Valerie returned it with stiff arms.

“Hey, you… Uh, I’m looking for your… cousin. Do you know where he is?”

“Danny? No, I haven’t seen him in ages. I’m kinda off exploring the world, y’know? Anyway, how’ve you been?”

“I’m—good. Look, I really need to find him.”

Danielle floated up and shrugged. “Well, he’s not here, but I can help you look.”

Valerie nodded. “Thanks, kid. And, uh, would you mind changing back to human?”

“Huh?” Danielle landed on whatever passed for the ground in this featureless void. “Why?”

“It’s just—uncomfortable, is all.”

Something strange passed across Danielle’s face.

“Oh. Well, I mean, I’ll be a lot faster if I can fly.”

Valerie clenched her fists. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

Danielle’s answering smile was tense as she lifted herself through the air. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Wait, if you leave how will”—Danielle zoomed away with an impressive burst of speed—“we find each other. Great.” Valerie groaned and slumped to the ground. “They just keep running away, huh?”

“Yeah,” Star said, “I wonder why that is.”

Star and Valerie were on a hill, watching the stars. Star was really good at finding constellations, seeing connections where Valerie saw points, seeing a picture where Valerie saw light pollution, so stargazing was always fun with her. She’d always loved space because of her name, she said. She wanted to know all about what she was named after.

The moon was full and bright. Valerie could see Star clearly, half-swallowed by the long grass. It was a cool, pleasant night. Peaceful, in all the ways Valerie was not.

(She was looking for someone. To do… something.)

“It’s ‘cause they know I’m right,” Valerie said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you need to be less sure.”

“What are you—”

And Valerie was falling again.

Detention with Lancer. Never fun, not even when he kicked his feet up and fell asleep. She and Phantom had both gotten it for skipping class to fight ghosts. The ghost himself was sitting in the back of the class, balancing his pencil on his nose and staring out the window.

After a long moment of silence, Phantom said, “You don’t have any questions for me?”

“Already know all the answers.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d I fight Pariah Dark?”

“For attention.”

“I thought I would die.” Phantom’s tone was light, conversational. This isn’t a big deal to him, just a fact. “Like, all the way. I thought that suit was gonna kill me if Pariah didn’t kill me first.”

“You’re lying.”

The pencil fell to the desk with a clatter. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Whenever I say anything you can’t argue against, you just claim I’m lying.”

“It’s because you’re a liar,” Valerie said without thinking.

“See! There you go again. Not addressing my actual point, just deflecting.”

Valerie opened her mouth to refute again, then paused. Calling the ghost a liar had become reflex. She didn’t have to think about anything he said if it was all a lie, after all. Then again… “But you did lie to me.”

“Yeah. I’ve been lying to everyone for years now.”

“So why should I trust you?”

Phantom shrugged. “Have I ever hurt anyone?”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t start.”

“You could say the same thing about literally anyone, though.”

“You ruined my life!”

“You told me you liked being a ghost hunter. That you like your life as it is right now. Was that a lie?”

Valerie grit her teeth. “No.”

“Then why are you so upset with me?”

“Because you lied!” Valerie yanked her hair in frustration. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Not because I’m a ghost?”

“No!”

Valerie gasped even as the word came out of her mouth. Lancer grumbled in his sleep at the front of the classroom and shifted to the side. Phantom grinned at her, showing off the fangs in his mouth.

“Wait, no, that’s not… I’m also mad because of the ghost thing! Ghosts are evil.”

“Am I evil?”

Yes, she wanted to say, but her lips wouldn’t form the word.

“Is Danielle evil?”

Danielle, screaming, dissolving into goo, and Valerie put her there—

“No.”

“Are you angry? Or are you using anger to cover the hurt?”

“I—I’m not—”

And Valerie was falling again.

“One of these days, ghost,” Jack Fenton said, shaking his fist, “I’m going to catch you and rip you apart molecule by molecule!”

“She’s a ghost!” Valerie said. “And I destroy ghosts!”

“Ghosts are nothing but the imprint of a human consciousness manifesting in ectoplasm after death,” Maddie Fenton said, shocking the ghost on her table as it screamed. “They don’t actually feel anything.”

And then—

Frostbite slammed the door closed, even though he got infected. Even though he was a full ghost and shouldn’t have cared about them at all.

And Danielle flew away, young and eager to explore the world. A child, who’d never really been free before.

And Danny—

Danny laughing with her. Danny hiding with her from Dash and Nathan. Danny forgiving her for being mean in school. Danny begging her to help him save Danielle (a child, who’d done nothing wrong and Valerie had given her away to a man who would destroy her). Danny, just as invested in protecting that stupid flour sack for their grade. Danny, revealing her to her dad, smug little grin on his face. Danny, who could’ve died that day and no one would have ever known what he’d done for them.

Something ached in her heart.

“No,” she said, choking on a sob, as the scenery around her changed again. “No, I can’t be this wrong.”

She was in a lab, now. Jack and Maddie Fenton stood to her left. To her right stood two GiW agents. On the table in front of her, strapped down, was Phantom.

Was Danny.

“Ms. Gray,” one of the agents said, “we were so pleased when you brought us your capture. Such a unique specimen will fuel our research for decades.”

Valerie swallowed. Danny stared at her, uncanny green eyes boring into her own. He didn’t say anything.

“Decades?” she said.

“Of course! We’ll take it slow; we wouldn’t want to destroy it before we’ve learned everything we can. Not like some people.” He looked over at Jack and Maddie, who rubbed their heads sheepishly.

Decades. Decades as a test subject. If Danny was just a ghost, it shouldn’t matter. He couldn’t feel anything.

Right?

Valerie couldn’t look away from his face. He looked scared.

“No,” she said. Her fingers clenched into fists

“Hm?” the other agent said.

“No, I won’t let you do this. It… This isn’t right!” With every word she spoke, she became more sure.

Danny was afraid. It wasn’t a lie or an act. He was really, truly afraid.

“Valerie?” Maddie said. “Dear, you know it’s not a person, right? It can’t actually feel.”

“You’re wrong!” She stepped forward, pulled out her gun, and blasted away the restraints holding Danny down. “I’ve been wrong, too. This whole time.”

“It’s out!” one agent said, pulling his ectogun and firing. “Recapture maneuvers, now!”

“What did you do?” Jack grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Danny flew around the room, avoiding the ectoblasts from the agents and Maddie. “What did you do?”

“The right thing,” she whispered. And she knew that, this time, she was correct, and it hit like a bullet to the chest.

Then she was soaring, ripped out of Jack’s grasp, flying through walls and agents until she was outside the building, in Danny’s arms, free.

He set her down on a rooftop across the city. “Thank you,” he said. “I couldn’t—”

Heaving sobs burst out of her. “I’m sorry! God, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I—Huh?”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just didn’t want to admit it. For so long, Danny.”

“Are you okay?”

Valerie laughed. “No. I’ve been convincing myself that I was right and ghosts were all evil all the time because if they weren’t… if they weren’t, then what was I even doing?”

Danny’s face, inexplicably, softened. “Val—”

“And then I found out your secret, and all I could think was that you lied. That you didn’t trust me. And I knew why! But if I acknowledged it, then I had to acknowledge everything. All the—all the ways I hurt you. What if I hurt other ghosts that did—didn’t deserve it either?” Valerie hiccuped. “I—oh, God, I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster. You’re human. This is the kind of mistake that humans make. Me included.”

“I would have let Vlad destroy Danielle if you didn’t talk me out of it. I would have been fine with it!”

“But you didn’t. Don’t torture yourself over things you didn’t do. It doesn’t help anything.”

Valerie’s throat was sore, aching with each new sob, but she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I made you a liar in my head so I could keep lying to myself. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Danny’s arms circled around her, and she let her head hit his shoulder.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Kwan didn’t expect Valerie to come back crying.

He’d kind of figured she’d get the trial. She’d been so sure it would be Danny that Kwan thought it had to be her. Like, cosmically or whatever. And after Paulina’s… whatever that was, he knew it would more than likely be intense. But ever since her dad had lost his job, Valerie had lost her softness, too. She didn’t cry when she was upset anymore. Instead, she got angry. She got even.

But when the light flashed on, Valerie was huddled on the floor, hugging herself, sobs heaving from her chest. Her face was dark and splotchy, dark stains of mascara trailing down her cheeks. Time was Kwan would have run to her, put his arms around her, rocked her back and forth. But this wasn’t that Valerie, and he wasn’t that Kwan.

He walked slowly, and knelt beside her.

“Valerie?”

“Oh God,” she said, choking through her sobs. “I—I really messed up.”

Kwan couldn’t help but turn his head and stare at Danny, holding Paulina up across the room. If she meant what he thought she meant… well, he couldn’t exactly argue.

“Yeah,” he said. She looked at him, tears still dripping from her eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Valerie lifted a shaking hand and wiped at her eyes and cheeks and chin. “Ugh, nasty.” She looked tired more than anything. “Yeah. Yeah, I gotta do something, right?”

“You should probably start with walking. I don’t think he’s gonna come to you.”

Kwan stood with her, holding her elbow as her knees started to tremble. He glanced over her real quick, looking for any injuries like Paulina’s, but whatever had messed her up seemed to be more mental than anything.

That didn’t stop her from almost collapsing when she took her first step, grabbing on to Kwan’s hand at the last moment.

“Val!” Danny said, making an aborted gesture like he wanted to come over to help.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Just give me a sec.”

Kwan didn’t quite buy it, but she was determined. He kept his arm out, just in case she fell, but with each step she became steadier, almost normal by the time she reached Danny and Paulina.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wrong about you. About everything. And I knew it, see, but I didn’t want to face it. So I just kept lying to myself. And I hurt you because of it. And I’m sorry.”

Danny froze, staring at Valerie in disbelief. “Oh,” he said.

Kwan looked over at the door at the far end of the chamber. He awaited the tell-tale rumble, the sign that they’d finished the last trial and the door was opening, but nothing came. Confused, he stared at Valerie, who shook her head.

“I don’t think I’m done just yet,” she said, sitting down in front of Danny. “I’ve done a lot of talking since this started. Said a lot of things… things that I regret. I haven’t listened, much. I think I need to listen, now.”

“Listen to what?” Danny said. “Like, what am I supposed to say?”

“Anything you wanted to tell me.” Tears spilled over her eyes again and her voice broke. “I’ll believe you. I swear.”

Danny laughed, just a little. “Even if I said the sky was green?”

Valerie pointed at one of the holes in the ceiling that revealed the swirling Ghost Zone outside. “Isn’t it?” she said.

Kwan couldn’t help but laugh at that, too, just as Danny and Valerie fell into giggles. Paulina mostly looked confused, but Kwan didn’t really have a good way to explain it to her right now. He waved her off.

“Well, I guess—Vlad’s a half-ghost, too. I thought you should know that.”

“Oh, uh, I already did. Know that, I mean”

“You did?”

Kwan held up his hands before they could get any deeper into that discussion. “Wait, wait—the mayor?”

“Yeah. He wants to kill my dad, marry my mom, and make me his evil half-ghost apprentice. So. It’s uncomfortable at best but sometimes I egg his house.”

“You egg his house?”

“After he cloned me, I figured all bets were off.”

“He cloned you?”

“Jesus, is that where Danielle came from?”

“Who’s Danielle?”

“My cousin. Well, technically, yes, she’s my clone, but that’s weird so we just call each other cousins.”

“Yeah,” Kwan said, feeling faint, “that makes the situation much less weird.”

Danny shrugged. “It’s just my life, dude. You get used to it.”

“Hang on,” Valerie said. “I don’t think we can gloss over the fact that Vlad Masters wants to murder your father, marry your mother, forcibly adopt you, and clone you, and the proportional response is egging his house?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “It’s not proportional but I’m not rich enough to do much more than be petty. If I reveal his identity to anyone then he’ll reveal me, too. Mutually Assured Destruction, and all that. Only so much I can do outside of that.”

“Okay. Okay. Shit. This is crazy. I hate this.”

“Tell me about it. How did you know Vlad was a ghost, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I flew back to check on him after Danielle. And he was. Monologuing.”

Danny laughed again. “Of course he was. He’s such a little loser. You know his cat?”

“Yeah, Maddie—oh shit, that’s your mother’s name.”

(What the fuck, Kwan thought. What the fuck the mayor was so creepy.)

“Yeah, heh, well, the cat was my idea.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I told him he was so lonely and pathetic that he should stop trying to get my mom to love him since she never would and instead fill that hole with a cat. I still can’t believe he listened to me.”

They broke down into laughter again. Kwan thought it sounded a little hysterical, but he figured they deserved to go a little crazy.

After they calmed down a bit, Valerie wiped at her eyes. “What else?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, is there anything else you want to say to me? Stuff to tell me?”

(Kwan actually wanted to spend a little more time on the whole the mayor is an evil ghost thing, but this wasn’t his show.)

And Danny talked.

He talked about walking into his parents’ portal, thinking it was broken. About turning it on while he was still inside. About how much he sucked with his powers to start. About Ember McClain (she’s a ghost?) and Spectra (she’s a ghost?) and the Lunch Lady. About how scared he was, fighting Pariah Dark. About how much fun it was to fly. How funny it was to mess with Vlad.

Sometime, in the middle of all this, the door opened. Kwan and Paulina both felt the rumble, both looked at the door, but Valerie and Danny were too engrossed in their conversation to notice. Paulina opened her mouth to say something, but Kwan shook his head. The fate of the world didn’t rest on them moving immediately. Thirty more seconds wouldn’t matter.

After another minute, Paulina raised her eyebrows at him, jerking her head at the door. Kwan bit back an instinctive retort. She wouldn’t hear it anyway, and she wasn’t wrong. They couldn’t wait forever.

“Uh, guys?” he said, when there was a slight lull. “Not to interrupt, but the door’s open.”

Valerie and Danny’s head whipped around. “Oh,” Valerie said. “Right.”

Kwan winced. They’d been having a good time! Getting along! He’d been hoping for that since the beginning of this mess and now that they were there, he had to break the tender moment up. Unfair.

Necessary, but unfair.

“We’re done, right?” Danny said. “I mean, this last one should be the Panacea?”

“Should be,” Valerie said. “Unless we fucked up somehow. Or that legend was wrong.”

Kwan peered beyond the opening, but just like every other time, it was pitch black. They’d only find out for sure by walking in.

“Hang on a sec,” Danny said, eyes squeezed in concentration. Before Kwan could ask what he was doing, a bright white light engulfed the room.

When Kwan could see again, there was Danny Phantom, standing in place of Danny Fenton.

“Woo! Finally!” Danny said, floating up and doing a couple flips.

“Wait,” Kwan said, “could you… not do that before?”

Danny laughed. “Of course not, dude, or I’d’ve been in ghost mode the whole time. Ghost Zone is dangerous and all. That gun really knocked the wind out of me; I only just got the connection to my ghost half back.”

Kwan had been kind of avoiding thinking about Danny’s ghost half because he wasn’t really sure what to think. He didn’t have a problem with it, not like Valerie did, but it still felt… weird. How could someone be half-dead? Wasn’t it, like, painful?

Watching now, the grin on Danny’s face as he unleashed a bright explosion of ectoplasm like a firework over their heads, he knew there was nothing to worry about. Danny was half-ghost. Danny was happy about it.

It was good enough for him, Kwan decided.

He glanced over at Valerie. A smile played around her lips. Paulina was cheering beside her, elbow resting on Valerie’s shoulder. In a moment, they’d all link arms and walk through the last door, a truly united front.

Kwan cheered with Paulina as Danny landed. Valerie’s almost-smile became a grin. Danny bowed, a huge sweeping motion.

He could get used to friends like this.

“If we walk through this door and there’s another trial,” Danny said, looping his hands through Kwan and Valerie’s elbows, “I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Kwan and Valerie laughed, but Paulina groaned. “I can’t wait to find this stupid Panacea so I can stop missing all the good stuff! Stop being funny while I can’t hear!”

Danny couldn’t help laughing again as they stepped over the final threshold.

Immediately, the room lit up. Danny raked his eyes over the other, making sure none of them were shaken up or hurt like they’d been before, but they all looked the same.

“No trials?” he said, just to be sure.

“No,” Valerie said. Kwan shook his head.

Paulina rolled her eyes. “I still can’t hear you.”

Danny gave her a thumbs up, then pointed at her, and shrugged.

She giggled. “Okay, yeah, I’m good. No trials or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

With that settled, Danny examined the room for the Panacea. At the far end, raised on a pedestal on a dais, was a white, crystalline bottle, glowing just slightly.

The Panacea.

Kwan whooped and raced toward it. “Wait!” Danny said, afraid of another trap.

Kwan made it to the dais, but stopped at Danny’s shout. “Sorry! I got excited.”

“Yeah, I get it, but we need to be careful.” Danny floated up next to Kwan, Valerie and Paulina right behind him. “Maybe… Maybe you should all step back.”

“What?”

“Danny, no!”

“What’d you say?”

“Listen! I’m faster than any of you. If something gets triggered I’m more likely to be able to get away.”

“But—” Valerie started to say.

“Am I wrong?”

“No—”

“Look, I appreciate it. Really, I do, but I think it’s best if I get the thing. Just in case.”

Danny couldn’t exactly explain why, but he was absolutely certain that he needed to be the one to grab the bottle. Everything he said was true enough, but there was something else niggling in the back of his mind that said he was the only one who could do it. He couldn’t let anyone else touch it.

“What’s going on?” Paulina said to Kwan in what she probably intended to be a whisper but was loud enough for everyone to hear. Kwan pointed to Danny, then to the rest of them, then pointed to the other side of the chamber.

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help,” she said, “but thanks, querido.”

“Are you sure?” Valerie said, steady gaze meeting his own.

Danny swallowed. “I’m sure.” He wasn’t sure why he was so sure, but he was.

She bit her lip, then nodded and stepped back, pulling Kwan and Paulina with her. That trial really had changed things; just ten minutes ago, Valerie would never have listened to him like this.

Once they were far enough away, Danny took a deep breath and grabbed the Panacea.

It came off easily, but before they could take a moment to celebrate, a bright green box formed around him.

Of course it did.

Danny reached out to touch the green wall, and a painful zap had him yanking his hand back. So no walking through. Ugh.

“Oh, come on!” Paulina said, tearing at her hair in frustration. “We passed your stupid trials! Just let us save the world!”

“Don’t worry, dude!” Kwan said. “We’ll get you out of there.”

It hit Danny all at once, a certainty that he knew exactly what needed to be done.

Valerie had already run up to the trap, Kwan and Paulina close behind, and was examining it. Probably looking for a way to get rid of it.

She couldn’t, though. Not like that.

“Val! Take the Panacea!”

Valerie, sharp as ever, narrowed her eyes at him. She’d already caught on. “We aren’t going to leave you here, Danny.”

“You have to.”

“No way!”

“What’s happening now?”

Kwan pulled out his phone, typing something before showing it to Paulina. She gasped. “Are you stupid? We’ll figure something else out. Don’t go playing martyr on us now.”

“No, listen! You have to. This is my trial, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every trial picks something that we suck at, right? Well, this one picked me.”

Kwan frowned. “I don’t—”

“It’s trust. I—look, I’ll be honest, you three are not high on my list of people to trust with my secret. Or, at least, you weren’t.”

Valerie opened her mouth, then winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s… fair.”

“But how can this be a trial? No one else’s trial took place in the real world!” Kwan stopped himself, furiously typing on his phone to show to Paulina. “This is the real world, right?”

“It’s real,” Danny said. He knew it like he knew he needed to grab the Panacea, like he knew exactly what needed to happen next. “This trap won’t go away until we put the Panacea back. But when we put it back, it’s gone forever. We’ll never find it again.”

“So, if we get you out…”

“We lose the Panacea.”

“No, no, no! We’ll figure something else out. There has to be another way.”

“Guys, guys, chill. You just have to bring it back when you’re done, okay?” Danny held out the Panacea through the force field. It passed through just fine. “I’m not offering to stay here forever. Just until you get back.”

None of them moved to grab the bottle. “But… but how are we supposed to fight the ghost without you?”

It was a fair question, and Danny wasn’t sure how he would have answered it yesterday. But the Panacea would be Pestilence’s ultimate weakness. And they’d faced plenty of stuff on their own today.

Danny wiggled the Panacea. “You’ll figure it out. I’ve got faith.”

(He was lying, just a little. But this wasn’t the truth trial, and what was faith without a little doubt?)

Valerie hugged herself. “I don’t know that we can,” she said. She straightened. “But we have to anyway, right?”

“Pretty much,” Danny said with a laugh.

“Do you have, like, snacks? For while you wait? Do you even need to eat?” He opened his mouth to respond, but Paulina shook her head. “Never mind, I can’t hear you anyway. Just… be careful?”

He couldn’t do much else, trapped as he was. He smiled and gave Paulina a thumbs up.

Kwan reached out and took the bottle. “How come you get to know it’s a trial, anyway? I didn’t know what the hell was going on.”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Fair.” Kwan started to move away, then paused. “We’ll figure it out. Promise.”

“I know,” he said. (Did he?)

“See you soon.”

Danny’s palms were sweaty under the suit. “See you soon.”

And they left.

Waiting sucked.

He was more bored and more anxious than he’d ever been in his life. Sure, he’d talked big about trusting the others. He even meant it. But he’d lost his phone somewhere in this whirlwind of a day, so he had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? Two hours? A day?

Okay, it definitely hadn’t been a day, but still. He worried. Valerie could hold her own, and Kwan could throw a decent punch, but was that enough against a veritable army? Even with the Panacea?

He wasn’t used to sitting aside and letting other people save the day.

(It was the right choice. It was the only choice. He hated it.)

He drummed his fingers on his knee. He tried a few breakdancing moves, fell, and laid on his back for ten minutes. His bladder started to ache. He thought about pissing through the barrier, but he couldn’t risk the chance that it would instead ricochet. He squeezed his legs together. He sang Billy Joel songs at the top of his lungs until his throat started to hurt.

“Jeez, you are not a singer, my guy.”

Danny’s head jerked up at Kwan’s voice. There, crossing the threshold, were Valerie, Paulina, and Kwan, hair and clothes a little messed up, but looking perfectly fine.

“You’re back!” He stood up and attempted to meet them, only to slam into the barrier, zapping himself once again. “Ow.”

“Of course we are,” Valerie said, a smirk in her voice. “Never a doubt.”

“This Panacea stuff is amazing.” Paulina pointed to her ears and wiggled the bottle. “Fixes everything. I love hearing and sound.”

Danny laughed, relief tingling down his spine. It worked. They did it. They won.

“Thank fuck,” he said. “Now get me out of here.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Paulina said, tapping at her chin and frowning. “This stuff is pretty cool.”

Before an icy hand of fear could grip his heart, Kwan and Valerie were already yelling at Paulina.

“Polly!”

“Come on, girl.”

Paulina giggled, waving her hand. “Sorry, sorry. Wrong crowd.” She passed it through the barrier.

He snatched it out of her hand and placed it back on its pedestal. The barrier fell, and the room rumbled once again. As Danny stumbled to his friends (yeah, they were friends, weren’t they?), the chamber collapsed in on itself, leaving just the four of them, floating alone in the Ghost Zone.

“Guys,” Danny said, “I have to pee so badly.”

And they collapsed on each other, laughing. It didn’t help the burning in his bladder, but he could wait a minute or so more.

All four of them had split with little fanfare, exhausted from the day's events. He'd sent a quick text to Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, promising to explain everything tomorrow, and promptly fell asleep.

Jazz drove him to school and he gave her a rundown on the way. She smiled at him. Patted his shoulder. Said she was proud of him for making such a hard choice.

“Wasn't much of a choice,” he said with a shrug.

“That still doesn't mean it was easy. You did good, Danny. And now maybe you've got some more people, too.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

The thing was, Danny had watched The Breakfast Club once, with Sam and Tucker. At the end, Sam looked over at him and said, “Bet they go back to school the next day and never talk to each other again.”

Tucker blew a raspberry at her. “Boo!” he said. “You're no fun.”

“Yeah,” Danny had said at the time, “They're all friends now. They aren't just going to give it all up to go back to how things used to be.”

“They spent one afternoon together in detention,” Sam said. “How life changing could it be?”

Danny pointedly did not think about that conversation as he walked up to Casper High the day after Pestilence's defeat. He didn't think about it as he pushed open the front entrance. He didn't think about it as he opened his locker. He definitely didn't think about it as he saw Dash shove Mikey to the floor.

Business as usual.

“Hey.”

Danny jumped, smacked his head on the locked door, and turned to see Paulina standing behind him.

Paulina giggle. “You good, cariño?”

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” Danny rubbed the stinging at the back on his head. “You'll give me a heart attack.”

“Can you get a heart attack?” Paulina tilted her head. Danny thought for a moment: his heart didn't actually beat in ghost form so theoretically...

“...Don't ask me that.”

“Hey, Fenturd! Leave Paulina alone.”

And there was Dash, looming behind him like Skulker, but only half as scary. Danny managed not to flinch as he turned to face him.

“I started talking to him, Dashie.”

Dash blinked in surprise. “Well,” he said, “he still shouldn't bother you.”

“He isn't.”

“Oh.”

Dash stood for a moment, mouth open, like he couldn't believe any of this. Danny could hardly believe it himself. But then Paulina rolled her eyes and said, “Seriously, Dash, that's enough. You can go now.” She punctuated her sentence with a dismissive wave.

“I—what?” Dash shook his head. “No, no, this doesn't make sense. Polly, are you—are you still possessed?”

Still possessed. Did Dash think that Paulina had been under Pestilence's spell? Or did he think she was somehow under Danny's spell? What exactly did everyone else think had happened yesterday?

“Just because I want to talk to Danny and not—”

“But he's a loser—”

“Don't talk about him like that!”

Dash's mouth flapped like he wanted to speak but no words came out. “I—you—what did you do to her, you little freak?” He turned on Danny, who had pressed himself into his locker, caught in the middle of this argument. Grabbing Danny's collar, he hoisted him up, knocking his head against the locker door again. Ow.

“I didn't do anything! Maybe Paulina just grew up!” Danny had never been good at keeping his mouth shut. Even now, when the obvious answer was to just get this whole thing over as soon as possible, he still had to sass Dash.

Paulina's perfectly manicured hand wrapped around Dash's wrist. “Seriously, Dash, he didn't—”

Dash ignored her, shoving her off. Paulina stumbled back, then hit the ground with a thud.

“Get off of him!”

And there was Kwan, pulling Dash off of him, arms looped under and around his shoulders. Danny sank to the ground, rubbing at his head. To the side, he saw Valerie help Paulina up before they both turned to glare at Dash.

Despite the twinge in his scalp, despite the stares of the rest of the school, despite his own lingering exhaustion, Danny couldn't help but smile. Take that, Sam. The Breakfast Club lives.

“Kwan?” Dash pulled away as soon as Kwan loosened his grip. “What the hell are you doing?”

Kwan ignored him and turned to Danny and Paulina. “You guys okay?”

Before either of them could respond, Dash shoved him. “Hey!”

“What is your problem, dude?”

“You're the one who suddenly came at me!”

“Yeah, because you were hurting Danny and Paulina.”

Dash blinked, like that hadn't occurred to him. It probably hadn't. Sometimes, Kwan thought that Dash didn't realize that everyone else in the world was a person, too. That they all had thoughts and feelings of their own. To Dash, everything was all Dash all the time.

(It wasn't entirely true, Kwan knew. He remembered a different Dash, eight years old, crying over Old Yeller and pretending he wasn't. Swiping at stray tears and yelling it's just dusty it's allergies don't laugh even though Kwan was crying, too. He doesn't know when exactly the pretense became reality, but he'd lost his Dash a long, long time ago.)

“Sorry Polly,” Dash said, not even looking at her. “But she’s acting weird. Fentonio’s using his parents’ ghost stuff to control her or something!”

“He is not!” Paulina yelled.

“Do you have, like, proof, or are you just pulling this insane theory out of your ass?”

They had long since attracted a crowd. Danny had slipped over to Valerie and Paulina at the front of the mass of students, and behind them stood just about every person in the school. Even Mr. Lancer, who by all rights should have been stepping in and stopping this, was standing by and watching. Like he was curious how things would go.

Asshole.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to back off of Danny and everyone else!”

Dash straightened up and pushed up his sleeves. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Who’s gonna make me.”

The crowd around them went wild, frenzied kids hooting and hollering at the prospect of a fight. Kwan made eye contact with Danny, Valerie, and Paulina. Paulina pointed at Dash, rolled her eyes, and faked a gag. Valerie gave him a thumbs up. Danny mouthed sorry at him. Behind them, Lancer hid his face behind a book.

Kwan wasn’t stupid. He knew what Dash was asking for. He knew Dash thought he’d win the fight, easy. He’d always won before, after all. Except—Kwan had been stupid in love with him. And a Dash who won was way happier than a Dash who lost.

The truth: Dash was a quarterback. Decently strong, for sure, but his main job was throwing the ball around. Kwan was an offensive lineman. His main job? Throwing people around. When the playing field was level, when Kwan didn’t pull his punches, there was no competition.

If Dash had thought about it for more than a minute, he would’ve realized that there was no way he was stronger than Kwan. But he’d long since lost that kind of self-awareness.

Kwan could be sad about all the ways Dash had changed tomorrow. Today was for kicking his ass.

Dash pulled his arm back to throw a haymaker. Without pausing to think, Kwan sidestepped the attack and swung an uppercut, hitting Dash square on the jaw with a nauseating click.

Dash flopped to the floor, mouth hanging open. Blood dripped down his chin; he must have bitten his tongue. For a moment, he froze, staring at Kwan in shock.

“You’re an ass,” Kwan said, “and I’ve been an ass right next to you. But I’m sick of it. Paulina’s sick of it. Everyone else in school is sick of it. I’m not holding myself back just to make you feel better. And I’m not gonna let you keep being a dick, either. So I suggest you stay down.”

Dash opened his mouth to say something, but Kwan cut him off. “I don’t wanna hear it,” he said. “Just… grow the fuck up, dude.”

And he walked past his oldest friend, bleeding on the ground, toward the cacophony of students and his 3 new/old friends.

“Jeez,” Valerie said, giving him a playful smack on the shoulder, “you’re so dramatic.”

“That was… public,” Danny said. The students started to disperse, heralded by Mr. Lancer. Lancer looked over at Kwan, nodded in something like approval, then shepherded people into their classrooms, leaving the four of them alone in the hallway just before the bell rang.

Kwan scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, sorry about that. Sorry you got in the middle there.”

“No, no, I mean… thanks for stepping in, but are you guys gonna be okay?” Danny’s eyes flicked between Paulina and Kwan.

They looked at each other. Paulina giggled. Valerie shook her head with a smile.

“Yeah, dude,” Kwan said. “We’re gonna be just fine.”

#danny phantom #my writing #my fic #invisobang 2023 #invisobang #paulina sanchez #valerie gray #kwan

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