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bosbas · 2 years ago

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Chapter 4: the more that you say, the less I know

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.4k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, alluding to sex but no one actually talks about it

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You're struggling to find someone you're as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: ummmm if you saw me change this from OFC to reader insert... no u didn't<3 also me making an f1 reference teehee i couldn't help myself

May 23, 1814 - At yesterday's ball hosted by the illustrious Cowper family, one could not help but notice Miss Cressida Cowper, whose ethereal gown left onlookers in awe. Rumors abound that the delicate fabric, allegedly from the Far East, lent an air of exotic allure to her ensemble. However, the discerning eye might notice a subtle familiarity. A striking resemblance, one might say, to a certain gown worn by Daphne Bridgerton, now Duchess of Hastings, in the previous season. Perhaps the secrets of this so-called rare silk are not as elusive as the Cowpers would have us believe.

Despite the "exotic" nature of Miss Cowper's dress, Miss Y/N Beaumont took center stage in the Cowper's ballroom. Miss Beaumont has seamlessly transitioned from the limelight of debutante to the darling of London society. But last night saw a notable shift in Miss Beaumont's approach to the season. Despite numerous suitors vying for her favor, Y/N spent most of her time in the company of her dear friend, Penelope, and the comforting presence of her mother, Countess Beaumont. Was the ton's selection of gentlemen not up to Miss Beaumont's standards?

A deep sigh left your lips. You crumpled up Lady Whistledown's column and placed it on your bedside table, already feeling a headache coming in. The previous night's ball had been somewhat of a disaster for you, and you were doing well not to think about it too much. You didn't know what was wrong with you. All the boys had been perfect gentlemen, some even making you laugh. Yet, the aftermath of each dance left you feeling disheartened, a sentiment you couldn't easily shake off. At least Lady Whistledown hadn't mentioned that your dance card was populated only with the names of Colin and Anthony Bridgerton. It would have also included your brothers' names had they not been away on some hunting escapade.

Realistically, you knew you should be disappointed that only a handful of hopeful bachelors showed up to see you today, bouquets and poems in tow, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to feel bad. Truthfully, you just missed Ben. He had been gone for about five days now, and you were pretty miserable without him by your side. The gnawing sensation in your stomach, an instinctual search for him in a crowd only to be met with the reality of his absence, had become an inconvenient routine.

Ben was consuming your thoughts. Your best friend had been gone for days at a time before, but this time was different. You missed the sly smiles he sent your way when one of your brothers said something particularly preposterous. You missed his rambling about art while you had your head comfortably in his lap. You missed his small touches, a hand on the small of your back, or a bump of your shoulders when he sensed you needed reassurance. But most of all, you missed having him nearby, feeling the warmth and comfort of his glowing presence. Perhaps with Benedict by your side, you would have navigated the challenges of the ballroom last night more successfully. Surely, he would notice his best friend feeling anxious and uncomfortable, ready with a witty remark to make you smile and dispel your nerves. But he hadn't been there, and you had floundered trying to connect with men who sought different things in a marriage. You were feeling especially tender tonight, a painful mix of anger, disappointment, and frustration plaguing you. You were surprised by how quickly the novelty of your debut had worn off, and you were left with a gaping Benedict Bridgerton-sized hole in your heart.

In your childhood, the two of you dreamed up a future together, one where you could pursue your literary passions, and Ben could lose himself in his art. Those innocent dreams felt like distant echoes now, and how you yearned for the excitement with which you drafted these plans. To you, that was still the perfect partnership. But none of the gentlemen you had met so far shared an even remotely similar vision. A small part of you secretly wished Benedict was ready to marry, or better yet, ready to marry you. But reality dictated otherwise. Benedict had likely moved on, envisioning a new definition of marital bliss, leaving you with an aching heart and a future devoid of prospects.

A particularly unpleasant train of thought came to your mind, and you found yourself wondering how Benedict was coping. Surely the countryside was a more pleasant experience than the stuffy ballrooms of the ton, but as he was out enjoying the fresh air, did his thoughts circle back to you? Did he regret missing your debut? Or were you merely an afterthought in his countryside musings?

A knock on your door interrupted your swirling thoughts, momentarily diverting the chaos within your mind. You smiled upon seeing your mother's soft features peek through the door.

"Hello, Mum. Is everything alright?"

"I believe I should be asking you that, actually," Countess Beaumont replied carefully, making her way over to your bed. Of course, Primrose had noticed the astounding lack of gentleman callers at their home this morning, a phenomenon you couldn't attribute to your elder siblings dissuading potential suitors.

In turn, you were feeling an acute uneasiness. You knew this conversation would come, but you were not prepared in the slightest. Questions about your altered demeanor had you nervously wringing your hands, avoiding your mother's gaze. Sensing her daughter's distress, Primrose sat beside you, holding your hands and gently squeezing them in hers. The comforting gesture stilled you and brought your eyes to finally meet your mother's.

"I apologize; I did not mean to–" you began, then cleared your throat, changing your answer. "When you met Father, you were both completely enamored since the beginning, correct?"

"Well, perhaps not the very beginning. But after one conversation, yes." Prim laughed, remembering her first meeting with her husband.

"Exactly. I just don't think I'll have something like that. And I know you wanted me to find a love match, but for the life of me, I haven't found someone I'm compatible with, let alone someone who wants to have an actual conversation with me!"

Primrose probed further with utmost tenderness in her voice, mindful of your vulnerable state. "Is that what worries you? Not finding someone right away?"

You sensed that your mother hadn't come to reprimand you for turning away almost all eligible bachelors the night before, or at least, that was no longer the primary intention. No longer feeling defensive, you began articulating your tumultuous thoughts.

"Partially. Lady Whistledown has certainly done me no favors. She set the bar up so high that now if I don't find someone incredible or appropriately titled or very quickly, I fear the whole ton will be disappointed. Lady Whistledown will certainly make her disappointment known. But my life is not a plot line to be used for the ton's gossip sheet. At least not to me. As a woman, choosing who to marry is the most crucial choice I can make about my future, and the only one I will be able to make at all if I marry the wrong person."

Your throat was growing impossibly tight, and your headache was worsening as you tried to assuage the rising anxiety deep in your chest. "I am terrified of squandering this opportunity, of choosing the wrong person and ending up miserable and bored, of not being able to find love so soon and disappointing you and Father–" You cut yourself off with a sob, tears freely running down your reddened cheeks now. Your mother held you in her arms, waiting for the tears to subside before offering reassurance.

After a moment, the countess gently broke the silence, "Those are all very reasonable fears. I was your age when I met your father, but before then, I was feeling very similar to you. Granted, there was no Lady Whistledown sheet at the time, but the ton's gossip still spread with astonishing speed. Darling, believe me, there's nothing to fear. It's more than acceptable if you haven't found a suitable match yet. In fact, it's quite expected. Your father and I were unique, but most connections take time to develop."

Although you now felt much calmer, lingering anxieties still circled your mind. "But what if there is no connection? I haven't felt anything at all with anyone I've talked to so far, so how can I build a marriage from that?"

A sympathetic smile grew on your mother's lips. "That's quite alright. If you don't find a match this year, you can try again next season. But consider you and Benedict, for instance. Two completely opposite children were brought together because you were left out when both families got together. Now you're best friends, practically inseparable," she replied.

You looked on thoughtfully, once again losing yourself in thoughts of your childhood promises to Ben. Pushing the painful thoughts away and tucking them into a small corner of your brain, you continued your questioning.

"I suppose. But I truly can't imagine marrying anyone I met at the Cowper's ball or even anyone at Queen Charlotte's ball. And last night, I heard Alex commenting on the 'night of the marriage' like it was some big event, so now there's one more thing I must worry about when looking for a husband."

Prim felt her heartbeat falter, shock and fury coloring her features. "The wedding night? Alex said this to you?" she managed to eke out.

Sensing you had ventured into uncomfortable territory but unsure where, you hastily responded, "No, no, I overheard him talking about it with someone else. I don't even know what the marriage night is or why it's so important."

Prim let out a breath, somewhat calmed. However, relief was short-lived as you probed further into the details of the marriage night. The countess was frozen, unprepared for this topic, especially so early in the season. But her nervous energy only fueled your curiosity.

After a faltering attempt to form a coherent sentence, Prim cleared her throat and tried again. "The marriage night is an... intimate moment between a married couple. If you marry the right man, which I am sure you will, it will be very enjoyable indeed. Fun, even, so it is nothing to worry about."

"But what happens exactly?" you pressed, curiosity undiminished.

With a sense of finality, your mother responded, "Y/N, I know you have a curious mind, but it is too early for you to know the intricacies right now. The night of the marriage is a wonderful thing for a couple to experience, and that is the only thing you need to know. For now, enjoy the butterflies and keep being excited about your season. There is still much to look forward to. Like Alexander said, the men are there to court you, not the other way around. I apologize if I got a bit overexcited initially, but trust that we are all here for you and will support whichever decision you make." And with that, the subject was closed, and you sensed that further inquiries would only irritate your mother instead of answering your endless questions about this new concept.

---

"Ben!" came your delighted squeal from across the Beaumonts' garden, where you had previously been sitting with a book in your lap. Now, you were running at full speed toward your best friend, overjoyed to have him back. The impropriety of your run was momentarily forgotten in the sheer happiness of having him back.

Reaching Benedict, you felt yourself being swept up in a tight hug, the arms around your waist immediately bringing a comfort you had not felt since before Queen Charlotte's ball. He gently placed you back on the ground but couldn't find it in himself to let go of you completely. He placed his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down and trying to take you in as much as possible.

"You've grown quite a bit since I last saw you. Six days, has it been? And already you're almost as tall as me," Ben teased, a charming smile on his face. He hoped his joking demeanor would mask the overwhelming fondness that surged within him. The countryside had been miserable, to say the least. The arrangements to purchase the cottage had gone relatively smoothly, and he could have returned after barely a day and a half away. But he forced himself to remain in the country, not wanting to potentially infringe on his best friend's debut. Despite the sleepless nights and restless days, he resisted the urge to return. What he did not resist, and in fact plagued his mind constantly, were thoughts about his aforementioned best friend. He constantly thought of you, dancing at a ball with a good-for-nothing bachelor, or being flirted with by prospective husbands, or worse, flirting back. Benedict had erroneously thought that his time away in the countryside might have quelled the dull ache in his chest, having instead the opposite effect. But now that he was here, with you looking radiant as ever standing right in front of him, he felt his mind quiet down, relishing in the comfort brought by your presence.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, your affection for Benedict shining through even when feigning annoyance. "Hmm, well, you seem to have shrunk during your time away. Most peculiar," you retorted, easily falling back into your familiar banter.

The two of you walked side by side toward the far end of the garden, where your open book had been left hastily abandoned in the grass. Though there was constant chatter between you, Benedict very pointedly avoided inquiring about your coming out, opting to let you broach the once-sensitive topic at your own pace. But six days devoid of an eager audience for your literary escapades left you yearning to share your thoughts on the thrilling novel that had consumed every one of your moments outside of ballrooms and entertaining callers. And Benedict was more than happy to listen. Seating himself on the soft grass beside your forgotten book, he listened intently and interjected whenever appropriate.

Eventually, you had talked all there was to talk about a 300-page book and chose instead to lean on Ben as you read aloud to him from your current novel. On his end, Benedict was all too aware of your head on his shoulder, your voice carrying a soothing cadence. It was easy to get lost in it. He realized he would miss moments like these once you were married. Since childhood, you had been reading to him in this garden, and it would all be over by the end of the season. But of course, the dull ache he was feeling was because he would miss you after you wed. No other reason.

You suddenly set your book down, finally ready to talk about the elephant in the room. "I spoke with my mother last night. About marriage and the like," you looked over at Benedict, searching his face for any clue about what he might be feeling. His eyebrows shot up, and he nodded for you to continue talking, eager to listen to what you had to say.

"It was quite wonderful, actually; I think a lot of the pressure I was feeling has been relieved," you said with a smile, and I felt Ben relax next to you. Encouraged by another nod and Benedict's murmur of That's good, you continued, recounting the previous night's conversation with Primrose with great detail, conveniently leaving out the part where your mother had used you and Ben as an example of a good connection formed over time.

"Well, I suppose she's rather right, isn't she? Most of us aren't going to fall in love at first sight. Friendships work that way too; look at us," Benedict remarked, and you couldn't help but internally laugh at the fact that he had brought up your connection on his own.

Maintaining the brisk pace of the conversation, you continued, "Yes, exactly, she also said that. And by then, I had calmed down quite considerably, so I asked her about the marriage night and told her that I didn't know what it was but asked if I should worry about that as well."

Benedict choked, quickly masking it with a cough as he swallowed thickly. The marriage night? How on earth did you know about that? He subtly adjusted his sitting position, nodding at you to continue. "And what did she say to that?" he struggled out.

"She chastised me for even knowing what it was, of course, but I had overheard Alex talking about it, so she can't really be upset with me at that, can she? Anyhow, she refused to tell me what it was," you glanced at Ben, your expression expectant. He chuckled, gesturing for you to continue, resisting the temptation to elaborate. He knew that explanation should come from a mother to a daughter or perhaps from a husband to a wife, but certainly not from him. He still felt his senses heightened, knowing this conversation was going into unexplored, not to mention forbidden, territory between a proper lady such as yourself and a self-proclaimed rake such as himself. He was acutely aware of the proximity of your knee to his leg, and a subtle heat crept up his neck.

Disappointed but undeterred, you pushed on, "Well, she said it was going to be enjoyable. If I choose the right husband, of course. Ben, are you sure you can't tell me? Not even a clue? My mother's response was quite unsatisfactory. What does she mean 'fun'? Why will the marriage night be 'fun'? Does she mean the kind of fun like when I'm playing pall mall? Or the kind of fun when you take me on nature walks at Aubrey Hall? Why will no one talk to me about this?"

Ben was, quite suddenly and very wholly, overtaken by a heat he felt everywhere that was traveling down his stomach. He could sense that you were exasperated, but he needed a moment to recover from you comparing sleeping with someone to something the two of you did. Benedict felt his heartbeat in his ears and couldn't tear his eyes away from your lips, pursed in frustration. Lips that looked awfully kissable, if he were to be completely honest. His breathing quickened, and he was actively fighting the desire he felt for the girl in front of him, keeping his hands rigid by his sides to avoid touching you in the way he wanted to. He groaned internally from both the intensity of the feeling and the effort of holding it back. His mind was elsewhere, in a candlelit room with you in a nightgown or perhaps a towel, but he knew he had to answer in a semi-normal way, if possible. He blinked quickly and met your eyes, narrowed and expectant.

"It's really not my place, Y/N. The countess would kill me twice if she knew I had talked about this with you at all, let alone told you what it was," he answered finally. However, the immediate drop in your expression made him feel awful, and he was desperate to alleviate the frown on your face.

"Alright," he relented, "what your mother said was true; it will most likely be fun, given you marry the right man. And, um..." Ben scrambled to find a delicate way to explain the night of the marriage without risking a duel with Alexander Beaumont. "It's not like Pall Mall," he said after a pause. "It's more like... scratching an itch? It'll feel fulfilling, hopefully."

You put your head in your hands clearly through attempting to get anything out of him. "Scratching an itch? What does that even mean?" you exclaimed.

Ben would've laughed at the scene had he not still been feeling out of sorts from the previous conversation. He was astounded and a little embarrassed that he had had such an intense reaction to the slightest mention of the marriage night. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to get rid of the thoughts running through his mind. This, he reasoned, was precisely why he was a rake. Evidently, he wasn't ready to marry and needed more time in his rakish ways to get it out of his system. Wiping his brow and eager to redirect his thoughts, he turned to you once again, launching into a detailed explanation of the beautiful countryside landscapes he had seen while away and how he was going to paint them.

---

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softyolk · 2 years ago

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I Knew You Were Trouble (ch 1)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: A story about how Eddie Munson fell in and out of love with you. Angst ensues.

Word Count: 1.3k

Content Warnings: Strangers to Lovers, Swearing, Heartbreak, Angst

Author's Note: This is my first story, so please, be kind.

You have seen them before, but the sight always mesmerized you. They looked perfect together, like yin and yang, polar opposites completing each other.

He was tall, with a long messy curly hair, wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans; bad boy-like style but had the sweetest smile. She was shorter than him, luscious hair in a high ponytail, long lashes and blushed cheeks, looking like a doll in her cheerleading outfit, holding his big calloused hand with her tiny manicured fingers. They turned heads whenever they strolled by the school’s halls.

Every morning, without fail, he would take her to her classroom before heading over to his own. You knew their path very well, after all, Chrissy’s classroom was just across from yours.

The rumors around the girl’s bathroom about their relationship were that after a few escapades under the radar, Chrissy Cunningham had finally broken up with Jason Carver to be with Eddie Munson.

Looking at him now, giving her a forehead kiss before taking off, you would’ve never imagined that you would be the one in her position pretty soon.

It never crossed your mind. You were happy for them, mostly because they looked as happy as one can be. And also because they just… fit, you know? Perfect match. But that wasn’t the reason you couldn’t stop staring at them. At him, to be precise. Of course you had a crush on Eddie, of all people. All available people.

It’s not like it was a big deal or anything. You have seen him around a few times, and something in him pulled your attention like a magnet. He was just an interesting guy to look at, especially when he was talking loud about stuff he was passionate about. It also happens that he has the prettiest smile, kindest eyes, great hair and dresses just like the rockstars on the posters you had in your bedroom. But again, it's no big deal.

That's what you keep telling yourself, anyway, when you overhear two girls talking in the bathroom between classes.

"I don't know what to tell you, but he isn't who people think he is–" says the first girl.

"Oh c'mon, the guy is known for being a freak. I don't know what you were expecting." says the other.

"That's not– I told you I don't like that damn nickname or whatever it is. Jason and the guys are such assholes for calling him that. Anyway–", the girl sighs heavily, "I just thought he was different, that's all."

"But different how? I'm still trying to understand why you thought it was a good idea to dump a quarterback to be with a long-haired frea–nobody! Don't look at me like that, I said nobody!"

You felt a bit of tension building between the girls, but the conversation was cut short by the bell. You left the bathroom wondering what must have happened, but you knew for sure they were talking about Eddie.

The jocks had called him "The Freak" mostly because he lives in the trailer park and likes to "play make believe" – that you were sure it was a nagging about his Dungeon & Dragons club. He wasn't great at school either, having repeated the senior year at least twice, but above all, he was so obviously in love with Chrissy, the guys thought he was delusional for thinking he could've a chance.

+++

You don’t know what happened, really. You weren’t sure how it happened either. You just remember seeing them apart. You noticed that Eddie was mostly with his DnD group and stopped being a frequent presence around your classroom hall.

Chrissy had reappeared hugging Jason's arm, her long ponytail swinging from side to side, while crossing the halls all giggly with him.

She wouldn't even glance at Eddie anymore. Sometimes during lunch time, you caught him looking at the couple every now and then. He seemed a little uncomfortable, you thought to yourself.

"Are you even listening to me? Hello???" your friend Betty said, looking annoyed at your lack of attention.

"S-sorry! Yeah, of course I am." you replied, trying to focus your eyes on something else than the heartbroken metal head on the table across the room.

"So what was I saying??" Betty huffed.

"You were complaining about the amount of homework we have this semester…?" You tried.

"Ugh, it's like talking to a wall. Have you finished eating? I wanna get out of here."

As you got up to leave, you decided to give Eddie a quick glance as a sort of silent goodbye. Realizing that he was already looking at you made your heart jump on your chest and you immediately felt your cheeks flush.

He gave you a shy smile, but you convinced yourself that it was definitely for someone else as you have never had any interactions with him so far. You quickly readjusted your gaze to your friend's direction and bolted out of there.

Since then, every time you shared a room with Eddie Munson, somehow you would find him in the crowd just a few moments before his gaze found you back.

You would stare at him as if it was some sort of competition or animal kingdom shit, where you would assert dominance by having him looking somewhere else first. But it never happened. He would smile and you would panic, immediately changing your gaze.

+++

You remember that morning as if it was yesterday.

It had started raining when you turned off your car in the school's parking lot. You knew it was gonna be a cloudy day, but there's was no mention of a freaking storm on the weather forecast the night before, or else you would've known since your mom always gave you a heads up before leaving for work in the morning.

Before grabbing your stuff from the passenger seat, you stopped for a bit to look at the sky and mentally prepare for how drenched you were going to be before the first period. And of course it looked like someone was power-washing the parking lot. You couldn't see shit. Great! Today's gonna be great, you thought.

If you considered your options too much, you were going to head home and call it a day. You HATED when it rained and you had to leave the comfort of your home, or anywhere with a roof, to be honest. But you couldn't skip class because you needed to keep your attendance under control – last year you almost didn't pass Chemistry.

So you decided it was now or never, and opened the driver's door with a jolt. You jumped out of the car with your bag over your head as a makeshift umbrella. Squinting your eyes, you sprinted to the school's entrance while you felt your feet landing on puddles here and there, your shins getting more and more wet.

You arrived at the school's hall shivering but pleasantly surprised for being less soaked than you thought you would be. Still, your legs and feet were wet and it would make you feel even colder and uncomfortable during the day.

As you were heading to your locker, you saw Mrs. Harris strolling across the hall. So you quickened your pace and made a detour to the Art's classroom, to ask her if you could borrow the hairdryer they had in there– it was supposed to help dry glue faster, but now it could be a great tool to help you dry your clothes.

She let you use the hairdryer for 7 whole minutes before the bell rang and she shooed you away to your own class. It was good enough though, now you weren't feeling as cold anymore and your clothes felt comfortable again. Maybe this could be a good day, after all.

You ran to your locker to grab your books for the starting class. When you opened it, a folded paper fell to the floor. You quickly picked it up as a reflex, but after analyzing it for a bit, you found it odd as it didn't look like the pages of the notebooks you own. It had blue lines, and yours were a dotted pattern.

You opened the paper.

"You have beautiful eyes. – E.M."

What the fuck–WHAT THE FUCK?!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #fanfic #angst #strangers to lovers #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you

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yetanothersparrowofthedawn · 1 year ago

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The Way I Loved You

Extended Masterpost

Word Count: 9k

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt, ex!Jake

Context: YN has some big news. Chaos ensues, as per usual.

Disclaimer: THIS IS UNEDITED, this chapter has been driving me insane and I just wanted to get it out of my drafts. Also, English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come. Also, I guess this fic could be triggering for some because it’s kind of sad and angsty.

Previous Track: Style

Chapter soundtrack: That’s the way I loved you – Taylor Swift

He is sensible and so incredible

He opens up my door and I get into his car

And he says, "You look beautiful tonight"

And I feel perfectly fine.

But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain,

And It's 2 a.m. and I'm cursing your name.

So in love that you act insane,

And that's the way I loved you.

Breaking down and coming undone,

It's a roller coaster kind of rush.

I never knew I could feel that much

And that's the way I loved you.

(By the way, for every ‘Chapter Soundtrack’, basically the idea is that it’s a song that YN eventually wrote with that chapter of her life in mind)

Alright, let’s get into this.

The plane cut through the clouds, having left the US behind as YN and the band embarked on a journey together. YN couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia mixed with anticipation as the Paris skyline unfolded beneath them.

The past six months had been quite a personal success. A mosaic of regular shared experiences had broken down any residual tension that might’ve lingered between her and Jake. Their casual encounters at shows, festivals, and birthdays-alike had served as genuine moments of connection, reforging the group dynamic they had all missed.

YN’s relationship with Harry, on the other hand, had blossomed into a real spectacle that constantly adorned the front pages of tabloids. This, of course, earned her a lot of suffocating attention, but amidst the whirlwind of it all, she managed to find refuge in the simplicity of the few moments she spent with the band.

The purpose of their Parisian escapade was twofold — YN was set to attend the art exhibit opening of an old friend of hers, while the band sought out some specific piece of music equipment that Sam had simply refused to order online.

It was a perfect opportunity to blend business with pleasure.

The jet touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport and as they stepped onto the tarmac, the crisp Parisian air infused the atmosphere with a sense of adventure.

As the day unfolded, the city of lights revealed its magic. Goofing around in a place where no one paid attention to them was exactly what they’d needed. It felt just like old times.

They explored hidden corners and indulged in local delicacies until the jet lag simply became too much to bear. With tired but cheerful eyes, they returned to the hotel as the city lights began to shimmer.

__________

The lobby buzzed with the chatter of a day well-spent. YN got off the elevator on her floor, wishing the boys a good night with a smile.

As she stepped into her hotel room, her gaze wandered across the space. The muted ambiance contrasted sharply with the vibrant memories of the day.

The blinking light on the telephone caught her attention, and curiosity compelled her to check the answering machine.

With the press of a button, none other than her fiancé's voice resonated in the room, a familiar warmth despite the miles that separated them.

"Hi, love, hope you're havin' a good time with the guys. Wish I could be there with you, but I'm still in London.” She smiled softly as his words wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

“Listen, I just wanted to let you know I just got off the phone with the jeweler,” a pause hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the unspoken, “they said they're done."

YN fell back onto the bed with a huff, the mattress embracing her in its soft contours. Stretched out on the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, the weight of the secret she’d been keeping pressed on her conscience.

Harry’s voice, a distant echo, continued to fill the room, “The ring should fit perfectly now."

The next day arrived, and jet lag had firmly taken hold, but YN shook off its drowsy grip to join Josh, Jake, and Danny in the hotel's dining room for some brunch.

The fatigue was evident on everyone's faces. She inquired about their plans for the day.

"Well, we have an appointment at the music store in an hour," Danny replied.

Josh scoffed, "If Sam ever decides to—"

"If Sam ever decides to what?" Sam's challenging voice cut in as he strolled over, taking a seat at their table.

"Samuel, how nice of you to join us," Jake teased.

"You know I need my beauty sleep, brother. Don't be jealous," Sam retorted. YN chuckled at the banter, enjoying the familiar dynamic.

As the conversation continued, Danny, with a raised eyebrow, steered the discussion back to the important topic, “As I was saying,” he resumed, “we have an appointment at the music store in an hour. How long do you reckon that will last?” he asked.

Sam, with his typical nonchalance, replied, “Not sure; the call was all in French. Might be ten minutes, could also be ten hours.”

The eye rolls from Josh and Jake were nearly audible, a synchronized response to their younger brother’s signature unpreparedness.

“Alright, we should probably head out right about now,” Jake declared, scanning the surroundings. He sighed in anticipation, “For all we know Sam may have gotten the address wrong as well.”

The youngest, catching wind of the ribbing, protested with a whine, “Hey now, that’s not fair,” as the group headed out through the bustling lobby.

__________

Once they stood outside the hotel, Danny turned to YN, “Are you heading to your friend’s thing?”

One of YN’s old friends was having the opening night of her new art exhibit, an event which they were all planning on attending later that evening, and YN had mentioned the possibility of going early to lend a hand.

“Yeah,” she replied absent-mindedly, “I’ll see if she needs anything.” She looked away in apprehension.

“Alright then,” Sam said, “we’ll see you later.”

As they were about to part ways, YN nervously blurted out, “Do you all need to be at that appointment thing?” She paused, turning to Josh, “I mean… the equipment is just for the players, isn’t it?”

Josh instantly scoffed, feigning an offended expression, “Well, I happen to play something called the vocals, YN, thank you very much.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” she insisted, an unusually tense expression on her face, “please?”

Sam was about to retort with a whole bunch of technical issues but Josh, catching on to his friend’s unspoken plea, quickly intervened, "Uh, you know what, guys? I think I'll stick around with YN for a bit. I can catch up with you later."

The others, slightly taken aback, glanced at each other, then at Josh and YN.

“Sure, no problem,” Danny smiled.

YN grabbed Josh and the pair strode away, arm in arm, leaving the others slightly dumbfounded.

Josh couldn't help but shoot YN a puzzled look, to which she responded with a silent gratitude that spoke volumes.

The rhythm of their footsteps echoed a subtle tension in the air. After twenty minutes, Josh, usually the easygoing one, couldn't help but enquire, "So, what was that about?"

She glanced at him, her expression a mix of urgency and hesitation. "It’s nothing, let’s keep going we’re almost there.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, “come on, there clearly is something,” he stated, crossing his arms, “and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

She stared at him, tempted to call out his bluff, but decided against it, knowing it was only a matter of minutes anyway.

“Alright,” she sighed nervously, “I have some news.”

___________

The air hung heavy with the weight of revelation. YN's eyes, now wide with anticipation, searched Josh's face for a reaction, a sign that he had processed the bombshell she had just dropped. The silence echoed like a distant melody, the street a quiet stage for the unfolding drama.

YN finally broke through the deafening quiet. "Aren’t you going to say anything?" her voice carried a mix of vulnerability and desperation, a plea for connection.

Josh, still processing, stared into the distance as if searching for answers among the unseen horizons. The creases on his forehead deepened, and the corners of his lips twitched with unspoken thoughts. "I just—” he finally uttered, “this- it’s is a lot to take in."

"I know, I'm sorry to spring this on you like that," YN said, her words softening the room's tension. She continued, "I've been dying to tell you- or anyone for that matter, but- with the boys and other people always around, I was afraid it would turn into a big thing, and the news would get out."

Josh remained silent; his eyes still locked on some distant point.

"So..?" YN pressed on. She needed a reaction, a response, anything to bridge the chasm that had opened between them.

"So..." Josh hesitated, choosing his words with measured precision, "we're not heading to your friend's exhibit, are we?" he finally inquired, his question cutting through the haze with unexpected clarity.

"Well,” YN couldn't help but let a smirk play on her lips, “remember we always said you'd have dibs on giving your- style opinion if I ever tied the knot?" she teased, the corners of her lips curling with a hint of mischief.

Josh’s eyes widened with surprise, "Hold on, what?" he exclaimed. The tempo of the conversation had, once again, caught him off guard. "Didn't you just get engaged?"

"I know, it's all going a bit fast," she admitted with an excited sigh. "But Harry and I were at this Westwood show a week ago and the bridal look was just exquisite," she paused, “one thing led to another and we just- booked an appointment.”

Josh returned to his silence; surprise still etched on his face.

"Come on, don't be mad," she implored, her tone softening. "You know you love a private fitting," she added, attempting to inject a bit of lightness into the atmosphere, to soften the edges of the unexpected news.

After a while, Josh looked up, meeting her eyes. "There’d better be a lot of champagne involved," he finally quipped.

She smirked, a sense of relief washing over her. Finally, a normal reaction from her friend. "And only the best,” she assured, “this is Paris, after all."

_____________

The boutique, nestled in the heart of the 7th arrondissement, exuded an air of exclusivity that transcended the ordinary. As YN and Josh stepped into its realm, they were greeted by the hushed whispers of luxury. The walls, adorned with mirrors, reflected the rare creations that hung elegantly on display.

An impeccably dressed man emerged to welcome them with a pronounced French accent. Every detail of his attire spoke of an innate understanding of elegance, a testament to the boutique's commitment to excellence.

It was the kind of boutique that dealt exclusively in one-of-a-kind couture looks, each piece meticulously curated through age-old relationships with some of the most illustrious maisons in the world. It housed creations that transcended mere garments; they were wearable art, destined for the most exclusive clientele.

Led by the man, Josh and YN were ushered into a private fitting room. A sanctuary of privacy, it was adorned with soft, indirect lighting and the air was filled with a faint scent of peonies.

With a polite nod, the man assured them that he would return shortly with the dress YN had come to try on. As he exited the room, Josh couldn't resist calling after him, sending a playful reminder to bring in the champagne.

The leather sofa cradled them in its plush embrace as a delicate silence lingered, both YN and Josh settling into a cocoon of thoughts.

Josh, breaking the quietude, voiced the question that hovered between them. "So, you're really engaged, then?" His words hung in the air.

“Yeah,” a wistful smile played on YN's lips at the surreal nature of her situation. "I guess I am."

"How did it happen?" Josh asked, the question laced with genuine curiosity and a hint of brotherly concern. Her eyes sparkled as she recounted the proposal.

Josh listened attentively, a complex array of emotions crossing his features. He wanted to be solely happy for her, to share in the joy of her new life, but the reality of the situation still needed time to settle.

"It's all moving so fast, isn't it?" he mused, a thoughtful expression clouding his features. YN nodded in acknowledgement.

The atmosphere shifted as Josh leaned back against the velvety cushions, his eyes fixed on a distant point. "On the bright side of things,” he suddenly stated, “Sam owes everyone twenty bucks.”

She looked at him with a confused smile, “What?”

Josh sighed, memories flashing through his eyes. “About four years ago, the guys and I made this whole wedding bet thing” he giggled, “Sam, of course, bet the first marriage among all of us would be him and Carole King,” they both laughed, “guess that’s not happening.”

“Did you bet on anyone?” YN asked playfully.

Josh nodded silently, a serious expression quietly returning to his face. “Yeah," he finally admitted, a veil of nostalgia covering his eyes. YN's smile softened, a hint of understanding in her eyes. Of course, Josh would’ve bet on her and Jake.

"Life takes unexpected turns," she gently stated as she leaned back into the sofa. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Yep,” he mirrored her words, “who would’ve thought?”

As the minutes passed, the pair found solace in the shared silence.

The man finally returned with a garment bag that made YN’s eyes sparkle in excitement. Josh, taking charge of the celebratory mood, promptly popped the bottle of champagne, the effervescent bubbles escaping with a soft hiss.

He poured the bubbly liquid into two crystal flutes, the delicate clink resonating in the air as a toast to the unfolding moment.

_____________

As YN disappeared into the changing area, Josh took a seat, sipping the effervescent liquid and allowing its crisp taste to dance on his palate.

Amid the subtle symphony of sips and the rustle of fabric, Josh suddenly heard some noise emanating from the main area of the boutique. Curiosity piqued, Josh set down his glass and ventured toward the source of the commotion.

“I don’t think this is the place, it’s all clothes in here.”

Josh closed his eyes as he recognized the all too familiar voice. Sammy. He sighed, recognizing the imminent chaos that his baby brother, in all his oblivious glory, was probably about to unleash upon the sophisticated boutique.

Josh let out an exasperated breath, mentally preparing for hurricane Sammy. As the chaos drew nearer, he glanced toward the main area.

« Puis-je vous aider? » the owner inquired, attempting to bring order to the unfolding comedy.

“Oh, um, oui, oui, oui, Bonjourrrr Monsieurrrrr, ” Sam stammered in response, « nous, uh- ouch! Daniel, my foot!” he whined.

Danny interrupted, mercifully ending the linguistic massacre, “I’m sorry, do you speak English?” The owner nodded in response. “Great, um, I don’t suppose this building is also an art gallery by any chance? We’re looking for our friends.”

“I’m afraid not. Who are your—” the manager began before being cut off.

“It’s okay,” Josh interjected, stepping out from the doorway to the fitting room with a mixture of amusement and mild irritation, “they’re mine.”

“There he is!” Sam exclaimed before turning back to the owner, “merci very much, pal,” he said, tapping the flabbergasted-looking man on the shoulder.

As Sam and Danny approached, Josh wasted no time addressing the impending chaos. "How did you even find us her—” he interrupted himself, “Danny, how many times do I have to tell you to stop tracking my phone?"

Danny, caught off guard, stammered, his ears turning red, "I don’t know what you’re talking ab—"

"I swear to G—" Josh began, frustration evident in his tone.

“It doesn’t matter,” Sammy interjected, nonchalantly dismissing the potential drama. “Weren’t you going to some gallery?”

“It’s- a long story, not really mine to tell,” Josh replied, visibly nervous, “weren’t you going to the music store?”

“Well, we did go,” Danny rolled his eyes, “only someone apparently booked an appointment for the year 2032-”

“Here we go again!” Sam groaned, throwing his arms up, in the air “I already said it was my bad, what more do you want from m-”

“Alright,” Josh sighed, his patience wearing thin, “you guys should head out, like, right now. Where’s Jake?”

“Jesus, chill out, he’s just outside, on the phone with Ma’,” Sam informed, attempting to diffuse the tension.

Danny, with his signature grin, couldn’t resist adding his two cents. "You know," he said, "if you guys wanted to go shopping, you could’ve just said so."

"That’s- not it," Josh retorted, his tone carrying a mix of irritation and urgency. "Will you please just listen to me and go before—"

“Hey!” Jake suddenly appeared from behind the other two, “Ma’ says hello,” he slowly looked up from his phone. “What are we doing here?” He took a moment to assess his surroundings, “Are we going shopping?”

“No, we were just about to leave, actually,” Josh replied nervously, his words rushing out. “Y/N will meet us later.” The air seemed to tense with an unspoken secret, the ambiance of the couture boutique now a battleground for conflicting interests.

"Is she not here?" Sam asked, glancing around the shop.

"No, she’s—" Josh began, but he was suddenly cut off by a voice from behind him.

“Alright, I’m coming out…” a voice range out.

Lord, help us all.

“…but I swear to God if you start crying, I will kick your—" YN’s figure materialized from the fitting room, and instantly froze. Her eyes widened, and her words hung in the air as she recognized the crumpling faces in front of her.

The four guys, equally dumbfounded, if not more so, slowly took in the sight of their friend wearing, what very much appeared to be a wedding gown.

Sammy was the first to break the silence, “What the—”

Fuck.

___________

"So… now you know," Josh announced, absurdly loud, attempting to divert attention, "This year’s MET Gala theme is all-things-white, I know, I know, controversial, but, uh—"

“Josh,” YN cut in. She was thankful for her friend’s futile attempt to cover for her, but it was time to be honest. She turned to the boys.

“So…” She sighed hesitantly, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag, then. I’m kind of—" she paused, the word struggling to come out, “engaged?”

“You’re joking,” Sam blurted out.

“I don’t have my ring,” she clarified, “It’s getting resized, but—”

“Are you for real?” Danny interrupted.

There was a moment of palpable silence, and then YN timidly confirmed, “Y-yeah.” She wore a shy smile, and they scanned her face for any sign of dishonesty, finding nothing but sincerity. The realization hit them like a freight train.

“When’s the due date?” Sam couldn't resist adding.

“I’m not pregnant, Sam,” she snapped back, her eyes rolling with annoyance.

“Holy shit,” Danny exclaimed, rushing towards her and spinning her around. She laughed, feeling the tension dissipate.

“Someone’s making an honest woman out of YN, that certainly wasn’t on my bingo card” Sam teased, earning a look from YN, a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Alright, come here,” he opened his arms, and she gladly stepped into the embrace. “Congrats, superstar,” he mumbled into her scalp.

YN’s eyes finally landed on the one person who had yet to say a word.

Jake stood there, completely still. His gaze remained fixed on YN, an array of emotions flickering across his face. Surprise, disbelief, and perhaps a touch of realization danced in his eyes as he took in the sight of YN in a wedding dress.

In that moment of stillness, Jake's mind raced. The news of YN's engagement hit him with an unexpected force. Despite knowing that they had both moved on, seeing his ex-girlfriend on the verge of marriage obviously stirred something within.

He watched as YN stood before him. She radiated excitement, yet looked at him with nervous doe eyes, as though seeking approval. Jake's features softened into a faint smile and he finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so happy for you.”

She instinctively wrapped him in a soft embrace. Taken aback, he eventually wrapped his arms around her waist. “Thank you” she mumbled against his chest, “that means the world.”

“Okay,” Sam’s voice interrupted the moment of tenderness, “now that this is out of the way, let’s talk about this” he said, motioning to the dress she was wearing with an expression of disgust.

The atmosphere lightened as the group transitioned seamlessly from the weight of the revelation to their usual playful banter. "You don't like it?" YN inquired with genuine surprise, her eyes flickering from Sam to Josh, seeking confirmation.

Josh’s mirrored expression conveyed that his baby brother may have had a point, the unison hinting at a rare consensus. YN sighed with playful resignation, a mischievous grin creeping across her face as she hatched a plan to address the situation.

"Alright,” she announced, the glint of mischief in her eyes, “you know what we have to do, then." The boys, catching on to her playful intent, mirrored her smirk in anticipation.

"Fitting Frenzy!" they chanted with a jump, as Danny and Jake shook their head with both amusement and despair. The impromptu decision dispelling any lingering tension as they embraced the whimsical spirit of the moment.

____________

The boutique transformed into a whirlwind of shades, fabrics, and laughter as said fitting frenzy ensued. Each member of the group contributed their unique flair to the impromptu dress-hunt, turning what was initially a stressful situation into a memorable experience.

"Eggshell, Daniel?" Josh's voice echoed through the boutique, a mock sense of outrage coloring his words. "Have you gone mad? Do you think our Y/N will have some barn wedding?"

Danny, unfazed, shot back with playful defiance, "Well, I'd rather have her in an eggshell gown than that horrendous bedazzled mess you suggested." Their banter echoed through the fitting rooms, punctuated by bursts of laughter that drew bewildered glances from the boutique staff.

YN, caught in the middle of the sartorial crossfire, couldn't help but chuckle at the playful antics of her friends.

Amidst the banter, Sam emerged from a changing room, strutting down the shop in a princess ballgown layered over his shirt. "You know, this is actually much more fun than what we had planned for today," he declared, twirling around.

The boutique's managing director, growing increasingly concerned with the boys' chaotic energy which clashed with the usual etiquette of his establishment, observed the spectacle with a mix of confusion and disapproval.

As the afternoon continued, YN found herself submerged in a sea of fabrics and styles. The excitement that had initially fueled the endeavor was now tinged with a hint of desperation as she tried on dress after dress, searching for the perfect one. Despite the growing frustration, she maintained a sense of fun, laughing at the playful banter of her friends.

Throughout the disorder, Jake moved around the boutique, occasionally offering suggestions but seemingly preoccupied with his own thoughts. His attention wavered here and there.

“Hey how about this one?” Sam interrupted his brother’s train of thoughts holding up a dress to him, but Jake wasn’t paying attention, his gaze seemingly stuck on something. “Jake?” Sam inquired.

Breaking from his distracted reverie, Jake finally voiced his suggestion, pointing at the specific garment that had captured his attention. "No," he said definitively, "She should try this one."

The owner's enthusiasm echoed through the opulent boutique, his thick French accent lending an air of sophistication to his words. "Aaaah, I see you have the American eye, don't you? We curate very few pieces of American design, but this one," he declared, his fingers delicately grazing the luxurious fabric of the dress in contemplation, "yes, it is… quite delectable, is it not? Tom Ford, 1986. A good year."

As he held the dress with a certain reverence, Sam eagerly announced, "We'll take it," seizing the hanger from the poor man's hands and dashing toward the fitting room. "YN, look what we found!" he gleefully shouted through the boutique, the proclamation carrying a hint of mischief that made the owner flinch.

Apologizing once again for his brother's exuberance, Jake offered a sincere "Sorry about that" to the slightly rattled proprietor. The old man, despite the chaos Sam had caused, chuckled halfheartedly as he returned to the meticulous task of sorting the upscale garments.

After a pause, he turned back to Jake, his eyes holding a glint of appreciation. "If I may," he said with a knowing smile, "you have a good eye. She will look exquisite in it."

Jake nodded in acknowledgment, a sense of satisfaction warming his chest.

__________

As he headed back towards the fitting room. A chorus of oohs and aahs reached Jake’s ears.

There she was, YN, adorned in the dress he had chosen just moments ago, the sleek and elegant silk hugging her frame in a way that seemed tailor-made for her. The dress accentuated YN's beauty in a way that left him momentarily breathless.

Caught in the moment, YN looked around the room and inquired, "What do you think?" A chorus of enthusiastic responses filled the air.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Sam chimed in, eliciting a genuine smile from YN.

Turning to Josh for his opinion, YN received a heartfelt compliment that seemed to catch her off guard. "You look really beautiful," Josh admitted, his voice slightly breaking with emotion.

"Gosh, stop it,” she playfully remarked, attempting to lighten the mood, “You're going to make me cry, and I haven't even seen it."

“Well go on, then,” with a helpful hand from Danny, YN was guided onto the small platform, facing the grand mirror. Taking a deep breath, she finally looked up at her reflection, and the room held its breath in anticipation.

Her eyes began to glisten as she took in her own reflection. The dress reflected Jake’s taste for the understated, emphasizing the beauty of simplicity and allowing YN's natural grace to shine through. It was a creation of plain elegance, a sleek masterpiece crafted from immaculate porcelain silk that draped effortlessly on her frame.

A soft smile played on YN's lips as she stood there, momentarily rendered speechless by the sight before her. "It's-” she eventually said struggling to find the right words as emotions bubbled to the surface. “It’s so…"

"…you," Josh finished the sentence for her, “it’s so you.” The collective affirmation in the room conveyed a shared understanding—the dress wasn't just an exquisite garment; it seemed to be an embodiment of YN's essence, a celebration of her being.

The owner, with an air of grace, stepped forward, breaking the tender moment. He inquired, "Now, what are we thinking in terms of hair?"

"Up," Jake and Josh said in unison. Jake glanced down, slight embarrassment coloring his expression.

YN nodded with a radiant smile, "Up it is."

"Would you like to see our collection of hair accessories? Just to get an idea." the owner offered, leading to an affirmative nod from YN. A skilled stylist promptly approached, delicately crafting an elegant updo, revealing YN's delicate collarbones.

As she perused the display case of accessories, YN settled on a sophisticated white gold pin adorned a single pearl. The owner, appreciating her choice, carefully retrieved the accessory.

However, the pin slipped through the owner's fingers, hitting the floor with a delicate clink. Before anyone registered the mishap, Jake had descended to one knee. He delicately picked it up, his movements fluid and confident, as if the gesture had been rehearsed a thousand times before. The boutique seemed to hold its breath as Jake rose to his feet. Sam and Danny exchanged a knowing glance.

The clearing of Jake's throat pierced through the stillness, drawing attention from the clandestine intensity of the scene. His eyes met YN’s through the mirror, seeking permission.

A nod from her, gentle yet affirmative, signaled her consent, along with a soft flutter of her eyelashes. With a deliberate step, Jake closed the distance between them, the air charged with unspoken anticipation.

He extended his hand, gently placing the pin in her hair. In a moment suspended in time, his fingertips accidentally brushed against the nape of her neck. A feathery touch that let an electric current pass between them.

As the two stood side by side, the lavish Parisian boutique provided a glamorous backdrop to a silent interlude. YN, adorned in the white gown, and Jake beside her, found themselves momentarily immersed in the alternate reality painted in the mirrors. The soft ambient lights seemed to cast an otherworldly glow.

In that suspended moment, their reflection seemed to carry whispers of the 'what-ifs' and the divergent narratives that fate had penned for them.

As their gazes met in the mirrored picture, an unspoken understanding lingered in the air—a shared acknowledgment of a parallel universe where the threads of destiny had woven a different tapestry.

The boutique owner, sensing the shift in dynamics, played the role of an artful conductor, steering the ensemble away from treacherous territories. "Beautiful!" he exclaimed, his voice serving as a gentle reminder of the present moment. “Isn’t it?”

The spell broken, Jake and YN found themselves back in the shared reality of the Parisian boutique. The moment dissipated, leaving behind a trace of wistfulness and a shared understanding that some paths, no matter how enticing, were to remain veiled in the realm of what might have been.

In that fleeting moment, Josh and Sam exchanged another knowing look. They understood the silent undercurrents that had rippled through the room, visible only to those attuned to the intricacies of their story.

"Yeah,” echoed Jake softly, a touch of unease in his voice “Beautiful."

Suddenly, a voice breaks the contemplative atmosphere, announcing, "Hope I’m not interrupting." To everyone's surprise, the figure standing at the door is none other than that of YN’s fiancé.

Harry’s entrance cut through the atmosphere like a gentle disruption, eliciting a swift reaction from the gathered ensemble. In the blink of an eye, Jake stepped away from YN, creating a visible distance as the unexpected visitor approached.

The shift in dynamics was palpable, the subtle recalibration of postures a silent acknowledgment of unspoken boundaries.

"Oh my god,” the surprise painted across YN's face turned into sheer joy as she hopped off the platform, and sprinted towards Harry, her hand tenderly finding its place on his neck. In an impulsive burst of delight, she planted a kiss on his lips, an expression of unrestrained affection that spoke volumes to those around. “What are you doing here?" she exclaimed in disbelief.

Harry, with a casual charm, explained, "Just landed an hour ago, thought I’d surprise you." His eyes then shifted to greet the boys, who still bore the remnants of surprise on their faces. As the initial shock settled, YN, still wrapped in the delight of the moment, turned to Harry with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

"Are you coming to the opening tonight?" she asked, anticipation of his response lingering in the air.

“No, I’m flying back as soon as I’m done with my interview,” he said, “Actually, I have to run right now, I’ll make sure to send Camille flowers though, tell her congrats for me, will you?”

Camille, Jake thought reluctantly. Harry knew YN’s other friends. How come Harry already knew her other friends? How come he’d never heard of Camille before?”

“Are you sure you can’t stay just a little while longer?” she pleaded.

“Sorry, my manager’s expecting me back in London by tonight,” he said, prompting a subtle pout from YN. “Aw, come on, don’t make that face, love. Here, I have something that’ll cheer you up.” He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a small leather box and Josh cast a quick glance at his twin brother, who observed the scene. “I swung by Cartier on the way here,” Harry opened it to reveal a dazzling engagement ring. “There,” with gentle precision, he slid the ring onto YN's finger, “fits like a glove.”

"Thank you," YN smiled, her words accompanied by a tender kiss Harry planted on her hand.

“I left a little something at your hotel as well” he murmured, and she smirked sheepishly in response. She, by nature, may not have been driven by material gifts, but she knew how excited Harry always got.

“You’re the sweetest” she said softly.

“You are,” he retorted, “and would you look at you!” he exclaimed, eyes dancing with admiration as he twirled his fiancée around, reveling in the enchanting vision she presented. The moment, however, took an unexpected turn as he took a closer look at what she was wearing, “Hey, this isn’t the dress we’d talked about,” he questioned.

“Yeah, the Westwood didn’t exactly pan out,” Sam interjected, before YN could respond “that’s on us, mate.”

“Is this the one, then?” he said, gesturing to the gown she had on.

The room seemed to hold its breath as his question lingered. A wave of discomfort washed over YN. The very thought of walking down the aisle to Harry in the dress felt terribly inadequate for some reason.

“Uh, no,” she gently admitted after a pause, "I think I'll keep looking,” she shrugged. Her words prompted groans of disapproval from Sam and Danny. "It should be perfect for us," she insisted with a smile, though in truth, she was uncertain whose feelings she was trying to spare.

"Whatever feels right for you," Harry said, "I’ve got to run. It was nice seeing you all," and with one last peck on her lips, he exited the room.

Harry's departure left the boutique enveloped in a subtle sense of relief as Jake grappled with an internal turmoil that mirrored the brewing storm outside.

Irritation, disguised beneath a veneer of nonchalance, slowly began seeping through his veins.

Suppressing the inconvenient truth that lay dormant within him, Jake found himself grappling with an internal struggle between acknowledging the depth of his feelings and maintaining the carefully constructed walls he had erected around his heart.

YN silently turned back to the boys, casting a quick glance at Jake. The subtle creases of his brow, a silent acknowledgment of a storm brewing beneath the surface.

“I think we’re done for today,” she declared, as she fumbled with the ring on her finger. “We don’t want be late.”

______________

As the day melted into the evening, YN's wardrobe transitioned from the sleek ivory gowns of the boutique to a fun silver dress that shimmered with each step she took. The metallic fabric reflected the neon lights that illuminated the night, outside of the art gallery they were heading towards.

Adorning her ears were emerald earrings, thoughtful gift left by Harry at the hotel, glinting subtly as they caught the sporadic flashes of the vibrant light.

The anticipation of the evening's celebration seemed to clash with the subdued mood that had settled among the group as they approached the venue,

YN, still tense after the afternoon's emotional rollercoaster, maintained a dignified composure, though the echoes of her emotional turmoil lingered beneath the surface.

Jake, who hadn't uttered a word, let alone glanced in YN’s direction since their departure from the boutique, appeared increasingly tired as resentment simmered beneath the surface.

The vibrant energy that had characterized their friendship now hung in a delicate balance, disrupted by the unexpected currents set in motion. YN, though saddened and upset by the palpable shift in dynamics, chose to endure the silent treatment. It was true that she could have handled things with more thoughtfulness earlier.

They were welcomed into the space by the sound of music and sight of a decent crowd, a mix of art enthusiasts and socialites, swirling around the vibrant works of art.

Camille, with cheeks flushed and a self-soothed confidence fueled by a few drinks, spotted YN from across the room. "Oh my God, you're here!" she exclaimed, rushing towards her old friend with genuine excitement. She enveloped YN in a warm hug, her voice reflecting both joy and intoxication. "How have you been?" The two of them chatted for a minute.

The attention then shifted to the Greta boys, looking as handsome as ever. Camille, her eyes gleaming with mischief, greeted the boys with a seductive charm. "Well, bonsoir, gentlemen," she cooed, extending her hand with theatrical elegance, "Enchantée."

Seizing the opportunity for a flirtatious exchange, Sam pushed his brothers aside, positioning himself at the forefront. With a confident flair, he lay a delicate kiss on Camille's hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said, prompting the others to roll their eyes.

________

As the evening unfolded within the pulsating confines of the neon-lit gallery, Jake sought refuge at the bar, carefully avoiding any contact with YN like a sailor steering clear of a storm. His deliberate avoidance, a self-imposed exile, left her feeling adrift amidst the swirling currents of tension.

Distressed by the unspoken chasm between them, YN ended up seeking solace on the terrace, where the crisp night air provided a temporary respite from the stifling atmosphere inside. Her eyes were fixed on the ring on her finger, it glistened delicately in the light, yet felt heavier than ever on her finger.

“What are you doing out here?” Danny's voice interrupted the solitude, breaking the quietude of the night. He approached YN, his breath forming visible puffs in the chilly air.

"Is that a cigarette I see in your hand?" he asked, genuine surprise coloring his words.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," YN responded with a wry smirk. She wasn’t a regular smoker, but when days were high in stress, she sometimes found comfort in the smell and taste of tobacco, a weakness from years past. She took one last drag before moving to put out the cigarette.

"No need to put it out," Danny reassured her.

"It's okay, I don't mind," YN replied, extinguishing the cigarette with a flick of her fingers. The cool night air seemed to match the tense atmosphere lingering between them. Danny, breaking the silence, finally broached the sensitive topic that loomed over the night like a specter.

"So…" he began, his words hesitant.

"So…" she echoed, her eyes teasing him.

"Marriage, huh?" Danny eventually voiced, the question lingering in the air like an uncharted path in the dark.

"Yep," she replied, a soft smile playing on her lips. Danny and YN shared a glance that conveyed an unspoken acknowledgment — a few years back, the notion of YN embracing matrimony was nothing short of an absurdity. She and Jake had broached the topic once or twice, but it simply wasn’t her style. Not at the time, at least.

As her short response hung in the cold night air, Danny's eyes held a mix of curiosity and concern. "Are you happy?" he gently probed.

"You know…?" she paused, the words carrying the weight of introspection, "I think I am." As she spoke, the echoes of her own journey reverberated through her voice.

There was a time, not too long ago, when the prospect of happiness felt elusive, hidden in the shadows of heartbreak. After Jake, she had wandered through life with difficulty. The idea of happy-ever-after had seemed like a distant dream, an illusion shattered by the echoes of what had been.

Yet, Harry had entered her life like a gentle force, a subtle breeze that whispered promises of new beginnings. It wasn't the same love, nor did it intend to be. The edges were softer, the hues more muted, but it felt right, it felt- sensible.

She had once believed that devotion could only wear the guise of what she had known with Jake, but life had a way of rewriting its own narratives.

Danny, leaning against the cold metal railing of the terrace, absorbed YN's words with a thoughtful expression. "You've come a long way," he remarked, his voice gentle, “Both of you.”

"Yeah," YN responded, her gaze momentarily drifting to the city skyline. “He hasn’t said a word to me all afternoon, though.”

Danny nodded, understanding the weight of unspoken words. "You know him, better than most. It doesn't mean he's not happy for you; he’s just never good with change."

Amid the day's tumultuous atmosphere, Danny once again stepped into his role as the voice of reason. His words carried a soothing reassurance, a balm to the unease that had settled over YN.

She sighed, the night air carrying a hint of hesitation, "I hope so.”

A gust of wind swept through, eliciting a shiver from YN.

“You should go back inside,” Danny said with a gentle nudge, “Wouldn’t want you to catch death before you make it down the aisle.”

“Yeah,” YN chuckled back, “that would not be a good look.”

_______

As YN walked back inside, her eyes locked onto Jake, who, upon meeting her gaze, promptly diverted his course, striding purposefully in the opposite direction and disappearing into the men's room. The continuous avoidance and unspoken tension had reached its breaking point, and Danny’s reasonable words seemed like no more than a distant echo.

Fuck it.

Fed up with the unspoken rift, YN briskly followed the guitarist, determined to confront the lingering unease that had shadowed them throughout the day. With each step, her resolve strengthened. The hallway echoed with the clicking of her heels, a stark contrast to the lively hum emanating from the exhibit area behind her.

The door to the men's room swung open, revealing the dimly lit space within, and YN was met with the sight of Jake standing near the row of sinks. His posture, while seemingly casual, hinted at an anticipation that sent a ripple through the charged atmosphere.

She tried to hold onto her tenacity before it inevitably slipped away. "Can we talk?" she ventured, unnecessary loudly.

A flicker of discomfort crossed Jake's downturned gaze as he replied, "This is hardly the place."

"Since when has that been a problem?" she retorted, frustration seeping into the words. Jake's silence, an unnerving response, hung between them like an unspoken challenge. "We need to talk; you've been avoiding me all day," she continued, the weight of the unsaid pressing down on the confined space. “See? You won’t even look at me.”

"Alright," Jake finally shrugged, looking up at her, "Get on with it."

Caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze, YN hesitated for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked, concern evident in the furrow of her brow and the subtle quiver in her voice.

Jake scoffed, turning away. "What do you think?" he spat, his words cutting through the air with a sharp edge.

"You said you were happy for me," she countered, a flicker of hurt in her eyes.

"Yeah, well, what the hell d'you expect me to do?” he shot back, “I wasn't exactly about to make a scene in front of everyone."

"Jake,” she sighed, her voice softening in the face of his evident frustration, “I'm sor—"

"And to find out about it like that?" he interrupted, hurt evident in his eyes. "I mean, I know we've had our ups and downs, but Jesus, I thought we still had some respect for each other."

"I'm sorry," she offered sincerely, "this— it wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I wasn't—"

"Sure,” he pressed, his voice carrying a bitter edge, “and when exactly were you going to tell me, huh?"

"I— I don't know—" she stammered, her words an acknowledgment of the disarray surrounding the situation, a vulnerability laid bare.

"Were you just going to wait until paps got a shot of that huge rock you carry on your finger?" he continued, and YN wished she could sink into the ground. The rapid clenching and unclenching of Jake’s fists revealed the intensity of his emotional turmoil. "Or better yet, wait for me to see photos of your fucking honeymoon in the press—"

"Stop it, you know I'd never do that," she interjected defensively.

"Actually, I'm not sure I know anything about you right now," he retorted.

"And what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" she demanded, her voice tinged with defiance.

Jake looked at her for a moment, his own frustration simmering beneath the surface. "You're seriously going to make me say it?" he shot back.

"Well, I'm not a fucking mind-reader!" she roared.

"Come on, YN” he rolled his eyes, “Marriage? Mrs. Styles?" he mocked, his words carrying a weight of disbelief as if grappling with an inconceivable reality.

"Yeah, well, what about it?" she spat, attempting to conceal the hurt that flickered in her eyes.

"Please," he shook his head dismissively, as if challenging the very essence of the decision she'd made. “That's not you."

"And what do you know, huh?" she said, the echoes of her frustration reverberating off the restroom walls. "We haven't been together in years; what makes you think you know what I want for my life?"

"Because I know you!" he yelled, the force behind his words revealing a desperation to be understood. Silence hung in the air, a palpable tension between them before Jake pressed on, "and better than that jackass does, apparently,"

"You don't even know him!" she shot back, her defenses rising.

"See, that's the thing," he scoffed, a bitterness underlying his tone, "I don't need to know him. I know your taste in men."

Her eyes flickered with pain, a wounded expression betraying the impact of his words. "That's a low blow," she eventually said, a mix of hurt and indignation coloring her response, "even from you."

"Yeah, well, only the truth hurts, I guess," he mumbled, a bitter acknowledgment hanging in the air as he walked past her and headed towards the exit.

"So what?" she called out, the desperation evident in her voice. "Was I supposed to stay single for the rest of my life?" He turned around, his heart breaking as he met her sad eyes. She continued, "I—After everything- do I not deserve a chance?"

"No, that’s not-" an instinctive pull drawing him closer to her. His hand gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "You know all I want is for you to be happy."

"Well, I am. For maybe the first time in years, I am," she whispered, nuzzling her cheek into the palm of his hand. "Harry, he's good, he makes me feel- safe."

He felt a pang in his chest at her words. "I'm sure he does," he said sadly, his words weighted with an unspoken ache. "That— that's not the problem."

"Well, then, what is it?" she searched his eyes, desperate for understanding.

"It's just— " he hesitated, the words burning in his throat, unwilling to ever come out. His fingers delicately brushed her hair behind her ear, and his gaze lingered on the emerald earring that dangled from her lobe. "He’s-” Jake continued, his eyelids flickering, “he's got good taste."

With those words, he walked out, leaving YN behind, paralyzed, the weight of the unspoken lingering in the air.

________

YN found herself back in the exhibition area, but the vibrant artwork was a blur as her mind wrestled with her recent exchange with Jake. The odd thrill of their heated encounter served as an unsettling reminder of what she’d left behind.

She’d messed up and he’d messed up, a pattern that seemed to keep on haunting the both of them, even in friendship.

Truth was, he’d probably been right. She wouldn’t have had the guts to tell him about her engagement.

Why, though, was a question she couldn’t quite answer. Perhaps she’d enjoyed that in-between. On some level. Perhaps she’d wanted to witness his unfiltered reaction, or she’d been curious as to what might happen if she let the news come out on its own. Perhaps she’d simply been bored out of her mind.

Her songwriting had seemed to have run dry recently. The more time passed, the more she found that ‘happiness’, whatever that was, presented a ridiculously uneventful subject. After all, there would be no grand choirs to sing, no chorus could come in about two people sitting doing nothing.

Perhaps Patty had been right when she’d said YN had always needed to go to war to find material to sing. But it was a dangerous game, one she’d renounced a long time ago. Too much of her blood had been shed. She had let the sword fall to the floor, only to be replaced by the ring on her finger.

Immobilized by a sea of emotion, YN suddenly felt a comforting presence beside her. Josh's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Don't worry about him,” he offered, “he'll come around eventually. It's just a lot to process."

"I know," she replied with uncertainty, her eyes still fixed on the artwork as if seeking solace in its silent forms.

"One of you was gonna end up getting married someday," Josh continued, "you just happened to be the first. That's nothing to apologize for." His hand found hers, the silent gesture conveying a silent promise of support.

_________

The following day unfurled with an air of quiet tension. It was YN’s turn to deliberately avoid Jake as they moved through the day's activities. However, the serendipity of travel arrangements had a laid out different plans for them.

As they boarded the plane, YN's eyes darted across the cabin in search of her seat, her desire to maintain distance palpable. Yet, the universe seemed intent on weaving a narrative of its own.

There, in the vast expanse of plane seats, she had apparently been expected to sit next to none other than the very person she’d been trying to avoid.

A flicker of reluctance crossed YN's face as she hesitated near the row, contemplating her options.

Just as she decided to retreat, Jake's hand gently reached out, “YN, come on,” a silent plea evident in his touch, "please?" His words hung in the air, soft yet compelling. It seemed he had renounced his fighting mood from the day before. She relented, sinking into the seat beside him.

The hum of the plane engines served as the backdrop to a charged silence, unspoken tension echoing in the space that stretched between their bodies.

Once takeoff was done, Jake hesitated, glancing towards YN with a contemplative expression. Breaking the uneasy silence, he began, "About yesterday..."

She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions, a silent invitation for him to continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did," Jake admitted, his voice carrying a blend of regret and vulnerability. " It's just... it all caught me off guard."

YN, too, felt the weight of remorse settling in. "I should've told you. I should've found a way to tell you before,” she looked down at her hands, “but everything happened so fast, and I-I didn't know how…"

He nodded, a mix of regret and understanding in his eyes. "Still, I was an ass.”

"I get it," YN replied softly, meeting his gaze. "It's a big change. I never intended for you to feel blindsided."

He sighed in acknowledgment, "I guess we both have a lot to process. I never expected- I mean, I didn't think it would hit me that hard."

She met his gaze, a shared understanding passing between them. "To be fair, I never expected to find myself here either," she admitted, her voice soft. "But things change, I suppose."

"Yeah," he whispered, "they do."

The tension that had gripped the air between them began to slowly dissipate as YN chose to inject a much-needed dose of levity into the confined space of the plane.

"If that makes you feel better," she remarked with a gentle smile, "I’ll make sure to have a full-on meltdown when you get married, that way we’re even."

“Deal,” Jake chuckled, a warmth spreading through him, "just make it memorable, okay? Maybe hire a choir or something."

"Oh, absolutely," she nodded with mock seriousness, "I'm thinking fireworks, synchronized swimmers, the whole shebang. It's going to be an event."

“And of course, you'll need a soundtrack.” He mused, “Maybe something like ‘I Will Survive’ or ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’?"

"Solid choices," she laughed, "but I was thinking more along the lines of Cryingby Aerosmith. Really amp it up, you know?"

"Ah, a woman of refined taste," he quipped, "I'll be sure to add it to the playlist.”

She nodded, playing along, "And a fog machine as well, for my dramatic entrance.

"Well, naturally," Jake responded, “Can't forget the fog.”

The banter continued, a familiar cadence of playful exchanges that danced on the edge of shared memories. YN, feeling a sense of relief, leaned into the easy camaraderie they had always shared.

"So," Jake eventually needled, a curious glint dancing in his eyes, "have you set a date?"

“No, not yet" she responded with a casual shrug. "But knowing us, it's probably going to be a while. We're constantly swamped with work. You know how it is.”

“Too busy to plan your special day?” he smirked, “I don’t believe it, you were already picking your dress, weren’t you?”

“Well, I do have my priorities straight,” YN laughed. “But seriously, though,” she insisted, “I swear you might end up tying the knot before I do.”

Jake chuckled in response.

__________

He would contemplate the conversation in the following weeks, assuming the wedding talk had merely been banter. The idea of YN getting married seemed like a distant future, perhaps years away.

Little did he know that merely a month later, a small, elegant envelope would arrive in the mail, bearing news that would unknowingly alter the course of their fate.

Miss YN YLN and Mr Harry Styles Request the pleasure of your company at their Wedding Save the Date

—

Next Track : St Jude

Extended Masterpost

Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

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ronaldofandom · 2 years ago

Text

To Be or Not to Be (Part 2)

Here is the 2nd & final part.

Tons of angst, but salvaged in the end. As promised. No warnings.

Plot: Bheem & Jenny visit Jenny's friend's house. Chaos ensues there. And Jenny figures out the issue between Ram & Bheem.

................................................................................

Part 1

Part 2

Ram’s words had really rattled him.

They hurt like hell, yes. What made it worse, though, was that it raised a bigger question for Bheem.

Did everyone think what Ram thought about Jenny? His own tribe as well? Sita? Did they all still see her for the colour of her skin and not how she had been with them the last 5 months? Was she….dispensable….for them as well? Someone not worth fighting for? Was their acceptance of her just lip service, for his sake?

It made Bheem’s heart hurt. His mind went into a frenzied spin.

He went to the place that usually gave him solace during such tumultuous emotions. He went to swim, to clear his head.

The water was chilly, given the time of the year and the almost set sun. It cut through his senses, making him temporarily forget all other sensations. That worked wonders.

After an extended dive, he just floated aimlessly in the water. While his heart & mind battled with each other.

Surely, his people had taken to Jenny, right? Malli had been asking him from day 1 when she could start calling Jenny Vadhina instead of Akka. Likewise, Loki had been planning their wedding since she arrived, offering to do the rituals his Amma would have done otherwise. The village elders and tribal council were ecstatic when he told them about their courtship and proposal.

How can you be sure though? Screamed his pained heart. You didn’t know Ram’s true feelings either. How can you be sure of anything anymore?

And it was true. He couldn’t be sure of what others felt. But he knew what the two of them felt and that was enough. It would have to suffice. Because the alternative would make him want to dive into the water again & never come up.

He also knew there wasn’t much time to wallow in his tribulations. Arrangements had to me made for the trip. Escape plans needed to be handy, should they be required. A sense of purpose took over again & he slowly strutted back to the village.

When he told Jenny that they would be going day after tomorrow, the girl was on seventh heaven. She threw her arms around his neck & kissed his face profusely, thanking him with all her heart.

This happiness was worth all his tribulations. His troubles paled in front of it.

He got her to write a response to Carol, in a way that only she would understand. Once the logistics were sorted, he looked into her eyes, dead serious, and made her promise to follow all his instructions till they return back.

Jenny was quite familiar with that look by now. He was this firm with her only when it was about her safety. Ofcourse she was going to cooperate. She would never want to add to his worries.

The dinner was a happy affair. Jenny chatted away about many stories of Carol & her. Bheem just looked at her & smiled, trying to capture all these moments to memory.

However, the night turned suddenly desolate. A strange sense of finality hung in the air. As if, things were going to change forever. As if, tonight was all that he had left with her. As if, the sweet little world that he had built with her would evaporate in thin air tomorrow.

She was laying in his arms, yet it felt like she was somehow slipping away. He needed to be closer to her to believe she was here.

Jenny was half asleep when he grabbed her waist & turned her around to face him. Next instant, his lips were on hers, demanding a response. She smiled and let him in, giving in to his urgency.

They stayed glued to each other for the next few hours. Alternating between sweet caresses & frenzied lovemaking.

Such spontaneous escapades were not new for them. But this one felt different to Jenny. This wasn’t just him seeking togetherness, comfort, love or solace. This had a sense of desperation, helplessness, possessiveness and even a hint of….sadness.

She grabbed his face, trying to read the myriad of emotions swimming in those stunning orbs. Was this another one of those weak moments when she needed to reassure him of her love?

‘Stay with me.’

He whispered against her cheek. A near whimper.

‘Stay mine. Forever. P-please.’

His voice broke as his fingers dug into her skin, harder than usual.

She kissed his face fervently, trying to match his urgency, pulling him back on top of her.

‘Shhhhh. I am right here, honey. I love you.’

After another hour of clinging on to each other, she passed out in his arms. Mentally & physically exhausted.

He pulled her on top of him & held on to her. Taking in her scent. Smelling her hair. Feeling her warmth against his skin. Caressing her body gently with his fingers & palm, so as not to wake her. Willing his eyes to not spill. Fruitlessly trying to prolong the night and hold back these moments.

Next noon, when they went to the small temple in the village courtyard, before starting on their journey, they encountered Ram & Sita on the way.

Jenny started walking towards Sita to greet her, but Bheem pulled her back, firmly holding on to her wrist.

‘We should go. Else we won’t make it to the city by nightfall.’

The tension in the air was palpable. It was very strange to watch the two men not greet each other with a handshake or a side hug or beaming smiles. Instead, they looked at each other with a blank face, devoid of any emotions.

Jenny looked at Sita with concern, who just nodded at her in return, nudging her to carry on & not press the topic right now.

Sita had repeatedly urged Ram last night to make things right with Bheem before their city trip. To not let this wound fester. She was astute enough to realise that Bheem’s forgiveness won’t come readily if the affected party is Jenny. It won’t be how he had readily forgiven him in the past.

But Ram had been adamant that, while his choice of words were inappropriate, his point still stood valid. He would prioritise Bheem’s safety over their togetherness in a heartbeat. How could this love, this passion of mere 5 months take precedence over EVERYTHING else? Ram couldn’t wrap his head around this insanity. Madness. Naïveté. Ignorance. And borderline foolishness.

It’s not your call to make. It doesn’t become madness just because you can’t relate to such depths of love.

Sita had thought this inwardly but had given up trying to explain this to Ram. Both Ram & Bheem could be like stubborn mules when they wanted to be. Hence, she nodded to Jenny to let it go for now.

As they walked away, Jenny intertwined her fingers with Bheem’s, as a sign that she was always there to talk about whatever was bothering him. He squeezed her hand in response but didn’t say anything.

The journey to the city was smooth, must to Bheem’s relief. They reached the safe house on the outskirts of the city by nightfall. While Jenny slept peacefully that night, brimming with excitement for the following day, Bheem firmed up some emergency escape plans with the fellow rebels, should it come to that tomorrow. Once done, he laid next to her, and just stared at her angelic face all night. Not wanting to waste a single moment in sleeping.

Next morning, they set out to the house in the back of a mini supply truck. Carol had offered to send a car or drive it herself but Bheem didn’t think it wise to be in an open vehicle in that part of the city. Upon reaching the address, they went via the backyard, as planned.

As Jenny rushed towards the stairs leading up to the door, Bheem quickly scanned the area for any signs of trouble. It looked like Carol had delivered on her promise. There were no British soldiers or staff in sight.

Carol had been pacing near the window and before Jenny could even knock on the back door, she flung it open. The two women paused, looked at each other, trying to believe that this was moment was real. Then, they crashed into each other and just burst into tears.

Jenny didn’t think she was going to see any of her loved ones from her prior life ever again. And she had made her peace with it. But this…had been so unexpected. She hadn’t anticipated such an outburst. Frankly, she wasn’t even sure why she was bawling her eyes out. Tons of lost memories came flooding back and the women just sobbed into each others’ arms.

Bheem, who was a few steps away, just observed from a distance. Tremendously moved by the emotion on display.

His heart could feel the joy & pain of the reunion. He was so happy for her. But this was a cruel reminder that despite his best efforts to give Jenny the love of everyone she had left behind, he had clearly fallen short.

His mind also started to play games. Making analogies with how Malli had cried & held on to him when he first found her behind the palace bars. When she was in captivity and looking for a way…..out.

Of all the outcomes he was fretting over, this thought hadn’t even crossed his mind earlier. That Jenny herself may not want to come back. It was such a kick to his gut that he nearly tumbled behind. But by then, Jenny had composed herself & walked towards him.

She smiled, held his hand & led him up the stairs. Carol put on her best manners to greet him. But Bheem didn’t miss the doubt & resentment she was clearly trying to mask. Frankly, he couldn’t blame her. In fact, Bheem gave her credit for how hard she was trying, for Jenny’s sake.

Carol led them in. Jenny & Bheem followed behind, hand in hand. The two women were chattering away at a rapid pace but Jenny never let go of Bheem’s hand. Never letting an awkward moment set in. Rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with her thumb.

Once convinced of no imminent danger in the house, he finally let himself relax & focus on his surroundings. The house was lavish & grand. It was minuscule when compared to the Delhi palace but it still had most of the luxuries & comforts of a palatial abode.

Bheem suddenly felt….out of place here. Exactly how he had felt in Jenny’s room that day. They had settled on the dining table, where some refreshments were being served by an Indian cook. He seemed to be the only one in the house other than Carol. The food looked strange. All the little steel items looked very puzzling. The plate looked so fancy & fragile. Bheem’s appetite turned to dread at the idea of eating at this table.

Jenny’s hand in his was a steady comfort, and he squeezed it for reassurance. When she turned around, Bheem reached out to wipe the tear stains from her face. She giggled at her silliness & he managed to smile back at her.

When Bheem yelped at the first sip of his tea, that she had mixed for him, Jenny blew into the cup. Then tasted it herself for temperature before handing it back to him. Both drinking from the same cup.

Carol observed their little exchanges keenly.

‘You two must be tired after the journey. Do you want to freshen up? I have the guest room set up for you.’

‘Oh, that sounds lovely. We will be back in a jiffy.’

Jenny tugged at Bheem’s hand and walked to the room that Carol had pointed towards.

The room looked a lot like Jenny’s room from the palace. Bheem’s treacherous mind again wondered if Carol had done that on purpose, to remind Jenny of how life used to be. Before she met him.

As Jenny freshened up, Bheem walked around the room aimlessly. Unable to decide where to even sit. Everything looked so shiny and expensive and soft. And new. He didn’t want to leave stains on anything without washing himself.

‘Thank you. For everything.’

Jenny hugged him from behind, resting her head on his shoulder. He covered her hands with his and squeezed lightly.

‘Anything for you.’

He felt her lips curve into a smile, as she snuggled further into his frame.

‘Your friend must be waiting. Why don’t you catch up with her? I will get some rest in the meanwhile.’

‘Are you sure? Is everything ok, honey?’

Bheem was glad that he had his back to her, so she couldn’t see his face.

‘Yes, everything’s fine. I am just a little tired. Couldn’t get much sleep last two days.’

She knew that was true, so didn’t press the matter further.

‘Sure, get some rest. God knows you need it. I will send something for you to eat.’

With one last cuddle & a kiss to the back of his head, she untangled herself from him & walked out. Bheem immediately missed her touch. And presence.

In the next few minutes, she sent over some refreshments. He knew Jenny had handpicked these because it was different from the spread he had seen on the table. This was stuff that she knew would be palatable to him.

Bheem settled down on the floor, finding that to be the most comfortable spot. And managed to gulp down a few items.

Then, after washing himself thoroughly for any visible stains, he finally moved to the bed. The mattress was too soft. And the sheet was too silky. He almost slipped the first time he tried to settle down.

The ceiling was too high. The bed was too big - he wondered how distant two people would be on a bed like this. Together but still apart. The room was atrociously large - as big as the school in the town nearest to his village.

Jenny was brought up with all these material luxuries. She could still go back to it all, if his love wasn’t holding her back. This was her birthright. This was the life she was destined for. Not the basic sustenance & modest belongings she had been reduced to.

Bheem couldn’t shake the thought that he was being selfish. That he was the guilty party here. That Carol was right - he had wronged her friend in more ways than one. By keeping her for himself.

It wasn’t too late. Maybe this was universe’s sign for him to make things right. Should he…should he just….let her go then? Is this what fate was pointing him to? Carol’s letter, Ram’s disapproval, visiting this place - were the stars aligning to make him see the light of the day?

Bheem buried his face in the pillow, soaking the soft fabric with his tears.

Not everyone gets blessed with love in their life. A love worth dying for. A love worth killing for. A love that consumed every other feeling. For most people, it’s a fantasy. A fairly tale concocted to give hope. But Bheem had found his love. His soulmate. He was living his fairytale.

Was his time up? Were the gods demanding him to give her up, after everything he had already lost in his life?

The memories of the last 8 months would suffice him for a lifetime. Even though the separation would rip his heart out, he would never regret a moment spent with her. Never wish it to not have happened.

It would make everything simpler for others. His tribe won’t have to adjust with an outsider all their life. He could go back to being fully devoted to his duty of being the Gond protector. He could focus single-mindedly on the needs of the revolution, without any distractions. That sure would please Ram. He wouldn’t have to constantly worry about her every time he was away on a mission. He won’t have to live with the guilt of snatching her life away from her. He had caused all this by asking her to come with him. Now, maybe he was destined to end it.

And she…well…she would be distraught. He knew that. She would be as heartbroken as he would be. But maybe….with time….and familiar surroundings…she would heal. And maybe she would find someone who would treasure her almost as much as he did. Who could give her a lot more than he ever could. Above all, she would be safe & well taken care of.

Her outburst from earlier was still playing on his mind. Was she holding her feelings in for his sake? Was she hurting inside but not letting it out? That would make her resent him at some point. Wouldn’t it be the wise thing to get ahead of that situation and act on it now?

Should he just leave? There would be no way for her to trace him. She didn’t know the path to the safe house or to the village. Maybe she would think that he brought her here only to leave her behind. Maybe the betrayal would help her heal faster. Maybe that’s the only way, because no amount of reasoning with her would make her see the point right now. Maybe that’s how to save her, even though it would inflict the worst pain imaginable.

To both of them.

Without her, he would be lost. He would immerse himself in his duties and in the service of his people. And would go back to living on the portions of affection he got from his tribe. But nothing would come close to her love. He wouldn’t dream of ever replacing her with anyone else. His heart belonged to her, even if she were to go away. It was her or no one else.

The village would start to haunt him. Every nook & cranny a cruel reminder of blissful moments spent with her. Maybe he could take up missions away from the village. Places with no familiar traces of her. Yes, he could put on a brave face. No one will know how he would be dying inside. No one ever knew. Other than her. No one read his face like she did. Quite simply because no one loved him like she did.

Bheem cried & cried into the pillow, muffling his sobs & hiccups by covering his mouth. At some point, exhaustion took over & he fell into a restless sleep, filled with nightmares.

Jenny came back a few hours later to find him twisting & turning on the bed. She snuggled into his side, wanting to find a few moments of peace in this god-awful day.

His arms wrapped around her, stroking her hair & her back.

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing. We spoke for hours and ran out of things to talk about.’

‘Jenny.’

He used a tone to clearly communicate he wasn’t buying any of that. Then, he kept her hand on his head and asked her again.

She sniffled into his chest, and his arms tightened around her.

‘I….it was a mistake. I should have never asked you to bring us here. She doesn’t get it, Bheem. She doesn’t get us. She isn’t happy for me, for us. I thought she would be the only one to understand but she doesn’t.’

This didn’t come as any surprise to Bheem.

‘What did she say? Tell me.’

‘No. It doesn’t matter what she said. I don’t want to revisit that. It’s of no consequence to me.’

‘But it matters to me. I am asking for a reason, Jenny. Please?’

She couldn’t refuse him, even if she tried. So she edited out some parts & shared the less hurtful bits.

‘She said that it’s time for this adventure to be over. That it’s not practical. I am not using my head. She thought I would stay with you for a few months & then return. After having an experience of a lifetime. After living the highs of an exotic, passionate love, I would return to my senses & to the life always destined for me. She said I am being a foolish, brainless girl by throwing away my life & my fortune. All to follow this notion of love. Which will burn out one day & I will be left with nothing.’

Jenny couldn’t tell him that Carol also doubted whether Bheem’s interest in her was purely carnal or if there was more to it. One day she will not be as pretty & he won’t fawn over her as much. She was depriving not just herself but her future kids also of everything life was meant to offer to them. How was that fair to the kids? How could she be that selfish?

She had also said that while Jenny had given up her world readily for Bheem, he would never do the same for her. If not UK, they could have settled in the US where people of colour had also gotten rights after the civil war. And Jenny had enough family in the free world. She could also access her fortune in that geography. They could be together yet live with all the comforts. Away from the clutches of the empire. However, Bheem would never do that for Jenny. He won’t follow her blindly like she had followed him. What kind of love was this, when only one side had to give up everything?

Bheem could tell she had omitted a few things, but he got the drift of what was said. And how Jenny would have reacted to the whole thing.

He lifted her arms and settled her on the pillow on her side, facing him. Jenny held his palm & kept it under her cheek, leaning into it.

‘Is love always supposed to be this hard? Have you ever wondered why it couldn’t be easier for us?’

‘We don’t value the things that we get easily in life. Maybe that’s what makes this worth fighting for.’

She said without missing a beat. Without an iota of doubt.

‘People will never get it, Jenny. They will never understand. Even the ones closest to us. The ones who know us the best. The ones who love us the most. No one will get it. Can you live with that?’

She cupped his cheek and stroked his beard.

‘This isn’t about them. This is about us. They don’t need to understand, as long as we know where we stand. It doesn’t have to make sense for them, as long as we commit to make it work. Honestly, the naysayers haven’t felt love like this. That’s why they don’t know why we do what we do to make it work. Why the alternative is not an option. They don’t have what we have, my love.’

The confidence, trust, assurance and determination in her voice chipped away at his fears.

‘Will that be enough, especially if this happens?’

He stroked her belly while saying this, and she instantly knew what he meant.

‘Not if, when. When this happens. And yes, if our love is enough for us, it would be enough for the little ones too.’

His voice broke & she kissed his forehead, knowing fully well how much having a family meant to him.

But this time, while gazing into his orbs, she didn’t miss the emphasis on the words ‘the ones closest to us’. It took her no time to connect the dots.

‘Your tiff with Ram - it’s because of this right? He said something about me, about us?’

The pain in his eyes told her all that she needed to know. Despite herself, she came to Ram’s defence.

‘He loves you, Bheem. You know that. He would have said it with your best interest in mind. To protect you, save you from something.’

Bheem looked so appalled by that statement that she paused to reconsider what she had said.

‘By that logic, your friend loves you. She said what she said to protect you from what she thinks is not in your best interest. Do you forgive her? Do you feel bouts of affection for her right now?’

He shut her up decisively with his logic. She made one last attempt, because she could see how much this was hurting him.

‘Carol & Ram are not the same. We never have to see her again but Ram is an integral part of your life. This rift…will continue to cause you pain. Would it not be wise to just let it go, just this once?’

This time, the anger on his face almost made her retreat.

‘You are right, Carol & Ram are not the same. Carol doesn’t know me. Hence she has made these assumptions about me, about us. But Ram has seen you for months. MONTHS. He has seen everything we have been through. Everything you have done to adapt to our world. Heck, he has been my confidante through it all. If after that also, he doesn’t know my heart, doesn’t understand us, then he is much worse than Carol. A zillion times worse. When he disrespected our love, he disrespected me. He insulted me. HE HURT ME. I don’t give anyone the right to speak of you this way. ANYONE.’

His teeth gritted with anger, pain and frustration. Jenny scooted closer into his side, stroking his chest.

‘Shhh. I am sorry. You are right. This is between you and him. I should not have presumed to know the context. I trust you to make the right call at the right time. And, I am always here to support you in whatever call you make.’

His breathing eased after some effort, and Jenny leaned in to kiss his cheeks. He was still very stiff, though, so she decided to change the subject.

‘Being with you in this room reminds me of when you came to my room in Delhi. Gosh, I was so excited that day. Flailing here & there. Thinking if you liked me too. Or if it was all in my head. That day, after you left, I imagined what it would be like if you…kissed my hand. Or my cheeks. Or…my lips.’

She looked up to find him gazing intently at her.

‘I thought about you too, you know.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes. A few weeks after we had escaped Delhi, we were in a small town. Everyone had gotten a good meal that night & a comfortable place to sleep. They all passed out after dinner but my fears didn’t allow me to sleep. I was exhausted, had barely rested at all in a month. I shut my eyes for a few moments, trying to find some magic wand to bring me some comfort & peace. Then I saw you. In that yellow dress from the party. You were smiling at me & then you looped your arms around my neck. I felt such bouts of warmth & coziness in that moment that my whole body started tingling. It felt like a warm blanket had wrapped around me. Like 100 puppies were nuzzling into my face. Like my Amma was singing a lullaby to me, as I rested my head into her lap. I pulled you close and my eyes dropped down from yours, to your cheeks and then to your lips. I couldn’t stop looking. I couldn’t stop tracing them with my eyes. I couldn’t stop wondering if you would ever….if I could ever….if someone like me could even dream this unreal dream of…if gods could ever smile on me that way. When I opened my eyes, something had changed in me. I knew then….how much I missed you.’

Bheem wiped the tears that had involuntarily escaped her eyes.

‘You….never told me this before.’

‘I guess I was waiting for the right moment.’

‘Bheem. Take me home. I want to go home.’

When Bheem looked at her wide-eyed, she repeated her words slowly.

‘Take. Me. To. Our. Home.’

Home. HOME. She was here yet she didn’t think of it as her home. She wanted to go with him. To his home. To their home.

Bheem leaned over her & gave her a bear hug. A crushing bear hug. She struggled underneath him, since he had forgotten to balance his weight on his elbows.

‘Gosh - move Bheem. Do you have any idea how heavy you are?’

He realised what he had done & balanced himself over her but didn’t move away just yet. Not before catching her lips in a deep kiss. She stopped struggling immediately.

‘Remember this kiss as you think of us together in your room that day.’

They left soon after, spending the rest of the day in the city & the night in the safe house. Reaching their village early evening the following day.

As they walked up the mud path, Bheem admired the way Jenny deftly navigated the terrain, barely needing any help from him anymore. His heart swelled with pride at how much she had accomplished in a short period of time. How much she had given to be one of them.

He decided to speak to the village council to not wait for 3 months for the next auspicious wedding date. He didn’t want to wait that long to marry her. She had wanted to follow all traditions and hence wait for 3 months but after the last few days, Bheem just wanted to make their commitment final. To tie them together in an unbreakable bond. To shut all the naysayers up. Once she is his wife, he would dare anyone to speak of her, of them, the way Ram had spoken.

On their wedding day, he would also take a promise from Jenny that if anything were to happen to him or if he was in imminent danger, she would consider going back. He had managed to speak to Carol before they left & figured out that Jenny was considered kidnapped / missing by the British. She wasn’t a suspect. So she could always go back later, saying she escaped. That’s why he had taken Carol’s permanent coordinates. She may think whatever of him but she would be an ally when it comes to Jenny’s safety.

Bheem walked, deep in thought, almost out of muscle memory. But Jenny stopped midway, tugging at his hand which was leading her ahead.

He followed her line of sight to see Ram waiting there, at the edge of the forest, some distance away.

Bheem didn’t know what to feel about it. So he stayed still.

‘Bheem - C’monn. He must have been here since forever. He had no way of knowing when we were coming back.’

There was more to Ram’s fears, on whether Bheem was walking into a trap, which she didn’t know. Bheem also knew he wouldn’t have told anyone else and must be fretting over it all alone.

Jenny tugged at his hand again and he huffed in confusion. But in the end, he decided to briefly nod in Ram’s direction. Ram nodded back instantly.

And Bheem started to walk away, dragging Jenny behind him.

‘Are you serious? That’s it? Did he even see you? Shouldn’t you go over & atleast talk to…’

Bheem flipped around to give her a decisive look saying don’t push it. And that he would throw her over his shoulder & carry her back if she doesn’t keep moving.

‘Fine. Alright.’

She pretended to be irritated but smiled inwardly at his antics.

As they walked back, Bheem was convinced that his approach was right. This time, he won’t forgive Ram at the drop of a hat. Ram was not going to get away with hurting his loved ones thoughtlessly.

If Ram wanted Bheem’s forgiveness, he would have to earn it.

.......................................................................

That's it on my angst train. Hope the journey was worth it. Pls do feel free to let me know what you thought of this one

Won't be able to write in the near future - work is crazy. Hope you enjoyed what you have seen so far.

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland

@chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @voidsteffy @maooyinysparkle @amalthea9 @vijayasena @stars-in-the-distance @astrafangs

@orangey-orange @ariel-seagull-wings @atlinmerrick @carminavulcana

#rrr #tarak #jr ntr #bheem #ntr jr #bheem rrr #ram #bheemjenny #jenny rrr #rambheem #charan #sita rrr #rrr ramsita

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theprestigegirly · 2 years ago

Text

ok consider this guys..

au where ashley and luis battle it out to win leon’s heart, throwing themselves into danger to get leon to pay more attention to them. escapades ensue, angst ensures, ashley eventually roots for luis who wins and they gain mutual respect

thinking about ashley’s experience of serennedy during valdelobos ,,, if luis had survived she would’ve HATED them

#me when i write a fic abt this 😭😭😭#i would

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heliads · 2 years ago

Note

Holy crap can I ask to see the list of all the requests you got?! It has to be a lot if you’re booked all the way to July

oh you already know! here goes:

4/25: so, before you go chapter two (the darkling x child of hecate!reader series)

4/27: harry hook x reader (based on 'the way i loved you'' by taylor swift, was literally giggling to myself over how fun this one's going to be)

4/29: so, before you go chapter three (the darkling x child of hecate!reader series)

5/1: thomas x reader (set in the safe haven, newt and teresa are alive, culmination of months of mutual pining)

5/3: so, before you go chapter four (the darkling x child of hecate!reader series)

5/5: luke patterson reader (reader is luke's english tutor)

5/7: so, before you go chapter five (the darkling x child of hecate!reader series)

5/9: charles leclerc x reader (reader is in charge of social media and charles flirts at all hours of the day)

5/11: so, before you go chapter six (the darkling x child of hecate!reader)

5/13: peeta mellark x reader (reader is a friend of katniss, takes place after round 1 of the games)

5/15: so, before you go chapter seven (the darkling x child of hecate!reader)

5/17: loki x reader (reader is an empath, loki is newly forced to join the avengers)

5/19: so, before you go chapter eight (the darkling x child of hecate!reader)

5/21: leonard 'bones' mccoy x reader (star trek x grishaverse au, the thoughts and ideas i have for this >>>>)

5/23: matthias helvar x reader (enemies to friends to lovers)

5/25: charles leclerc x reader (reader is head of pr for ferrari, when ferrari strategy does ferrari strategy she helps charles w the media)

5/27: andrew peter parker x reader (simple headcanons)

5/29: clove x reader (reader is clove's bff and helping her train for the games but gets scared the closer they get to the day of the reaping)

5/31: tom peter parker x reader (male reader is fighting in wakanda during infinity war, they're worried about each other through the blip)

6/1: billy rocks x reader (the magnificent seven but a grishaverse au, i am so so excited to write this, june cannot come quickly enough)

6/3: tewkesbury x reader (both of them are lovesick idiots)

6/5: han solo x reader (escapades w han + singing to get out of a crisis)

6/7: race x reader (reader is brooklyn's second in command)

6/9: peter pevensie x reader (reader is a knight with a gay crisis, i am shrieking, raven i love you for sending this in)

6/11: jack wilder x reader (reader is a paramedic and jack keeps mildly injuring himself so she can fix him up)

6/13: newt x reader (gally's trademarked beverage as a plot device)

6/15: peter pevensie x reader (headcanons for having to live in london after spending so long in narnia)

6/17: finch x reader (the newsies are hanging out, he has a crush)

6/19: daniel atlas x reader (reader volunteers to be a part of a trick, he gets shy)

6/21: newt x reader (tmr modern au, they sit next to each other in class)

6/23: race higgins x reader (race + reader are on a date but get jumped and they must recover emotionally from that)

6/25: kai parker x reader (kai redemption era)

6/27: lucy pevensie x reader (lucy has a girlfriend and gets up the courage to introduce them to the siblings, this is when they're all kings and queens)

6/29: zoya nazyalensky x reader (reader is zoya's #1 fan bc zoya saved them from attack one time, reader is hurt by somebody and zoya nearly becomes a supervillain bc of it)

7/1: andrew peter parker x reader (male reader is peter's best friend but when peter gets bitten by the spider, he stops hanging out with reader as much, angst ensues)

plus bonus non requests that i get to tack onto the end of my queue bc i am the author and i need to clear through some of my unwritten ideas:

7/3: eric coulter x reader (reader was from amity but now tattoos, idk commentary on art surviving in a place like dauntless you get my drift)

7/5: jesper fahey x reader (this quote specifically that has been in my inbox for months: but how long? how long until i blend into the background and i'm no longer unusual? what will you do when i'm no longer a bet that calls your interest or a gamble worth the odds?)

7/7: eowyn x reader (eowyn thinks she dislikes reader bc reader is a girl and can fight but eowyn can't, in reality that's not jealousy but a repressed crush on a girl, we've all had them before)

7/9: peter pan x reader (reader can visit neverland when she's dreaming, she goes there often enough that she wants to live there forever, she asks peter to take her but he hesitates, she decides to never dream of him again, eventually he shows up in person bc he misses her)

#not writing

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aziraphales-library · 3 years ago

Note

do you know of any fandom classics that are post canon and preferably on the longer side?

Let's see!

A Memory of Eden by ImprobableDreams900 [M] (mind the tags!)

When Crowley gets captured by angels and dragged up to Heaven, Aziraphale knows he has to rescue him—no matter the consequences.

The Sandford Flower Show by Mussimm [E]

Crowley had waited six thousand years, kept it all in check. But this was the slipperiest slope he’d ever set foot on and as soon as he’d indulged in a few discretionary acts of kindness he was falling face first into pining, tumbling into flirting, about to dislocate his knees on the sharp rocks of intimacy.

Was this really it? What he had waited six thousand years for? A stupid flower show? Aziraphale wasn’t pulling away from him. Maybe… maybe this time he wouldn’t? Maybe they’d hold hands again. Maybe tonight with a bottle of merlot in them he’d finally work up the courage and just kiss him and he wouldn’t pull away.

The very moment he’d thought it he spotted the problem at the flower show.

~Mod N

And a few from me...

Good Endings by WyvernQuill (T)

A Narrative of Certain Events following the Ending of the World (Except Not Quite), as vaguely hinted at in The Slapdash and Not Very Helpful Prophetic Tidbit of Agnes Nutter, Witch (And Matchmaker.)

"Their lives are in horrible, terrible danger that only we can save them from!" Anathema held up the Prophetic Tidbit. "It says so. Right here." Madame Tracy peered at the page. Raised a meaningful eyebrow. "Dearie, as a woman of, well, considerable experience, I really don't think that's what 'the lyttle Deathe' means in this context..."

"Huh." Anathema squinted. Flipped the page. Read another bit. "....huh."

(Or, alternatively: Eight - give or take - matchmakers trying really, really hard, honest; two clueless ethereal/occult beings mutually pining their endless days away; and one witch, who can't leave well enough alone when it comes to matters of the heart, no matter how many centuries ago she died.)

Instructions Not Included by Atalan (T)

"They'll leave us alone. For a bit."

One year after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, Crowley and Aziraphale have settled into a new routine: keeping an eye on supernatural happenings in the world and preventing Heaven or Hell from interfering too much with humanity. It's not a bad job - despite occasional rains of fish - and if there are some unspoken things they really ought to talk about, well, they have all the time in the world now to get around to that, right?

At least, until the Archangel Raphael turns up on their doorstep looking for help... and it starts to become clear that the world is changing fast, and so are they.

Or: Crowley and Aziraphale start a detective agency. Shenanigans ensue. Slowburn continues. Apparently, there is plot. I have some thoughts about Heaven, Hell, and humanism. There will be stupid jokes and a healthy sprinkling of angst.

A Curious Case of Miracles on Marlborough Street by akfedeau (M)

After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale finally take the next step in their six-thousand-year friendship. But when a spate of miracles sweeps across Soho and Mayfair, they realize their amorous escapades may have an unintended side effect. As they scramble to restore balance and an archangel arrives to investigate, Heaven and Hell’s messengers learn that you can never have too much of a good thing.

Vita Nova by AMidnightDreary (M)

“Angel, bloody hell. Hi. You doing okay? Do you have any idea what’s going on?” It was quiet for a few seconds. “I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said then, still polite, but a bit perplexed. “Who is this?”

Crowley, upon finding that Aziraphale does not remember him, is very much Not Okay with the changes Adam made after the Apocalypse That Wasn't. He can't do anything but try and make the best out of it, though.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #post-almost-apocalypse #post-canon #long fic #mod n #mod d #fandom favourites

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moriihana · 3 years ago

Text

we can't fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || twelve: the both of you are definitely at least a little unhinged

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: because you were incredibly bored, you tag along with dabi during his little outing with the high-end nomu. the two of you have fun and bicker like an old married couple. the usual.

content: fluff

word count: 2659

taglist: @iincandescenttt

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

“Hey, doll.” Dabi leaned against your bedroom doorframe, crossing his arms. “Got a moment to talk?”

You snorted, shifting Nugget off your lap. “No, can’t you see I’m totally swamped petting my questionably gay cat?” You joked. “‘course I have a moment. Especially since everyone’s off doin’ their own thing right now.”

He stepped in and shut the door, then strode across the room to sit next to you. “Y’know the Wing Hero, Hawks?”

“The one that looks like a playboy and talks so cockily it makes me want to shove barbed wire into my ears? Yeah, I know him. How come?”

“He approached me. Wants to join the League.”

You scoffed, “The number two hero wants to join the League of Villains, huh? Sounds like a load of bullshit.”

“Oh, it gets better, mouse.” Dabi drawled. “Obviously, I was suspicious—I might be insane, but I’m not stupid—so I found out where he lives and sent some thugs to scope out the place. Wanted to see if I could get any information. Lucky for us, his mother was there.” An unhinged grin spread across his face and pulled at his staples, a manic gleam in his eyes. “With a few threats, we were given everything and more.”

You sat up with a look of glee that rivalled Dabi’s. “Oooh, do tell! I love secrets.”

“Gladly.” Dabi looked down as Nugget climbed into his lap, making biscuits on his thigh. “You too, huh, ya lil stink? Makes sense, you nosy shit.” He chuckled at your scowl, “Just kiddin’, doll. Anyways, here’s the deal…”

You let out a hum once Dabi finished talking. “So, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that this abused little boy, who basically idolised Endeavour, was recruited by the HPSC and trained to be… what, a child soldier? After Endeavour arrested his father? And that’s Hawks? Sheesh, wonder how he’s gonna feel when he finds out what a massive shitlord Endeavour really is…” You snorted and straightened, interlocking your fingers and stretching your arms over your head. “Anyways, you’re telling me this now for a reason, right? We agreed that you didn’t need to tell me all of your little villainous escapades that I don’t accompany you on if it’s not anything super important, so I figure something’s come up now?”

“Bingo.” Dabi smirked. “I decided to humour Hawks—information of the ongoings in the HPSC is valuable to us, and since I already know he’s a double-crosser, it’ll be easy to filter our information well enough. He’s in the… initiation period, so to speak. Y’know Ujiko, the fuckin’ weird doctor guy you and I met? He gave me a new toy to play with—a High-End Nomu. The potential is incredible.” His tone took on an excited edge. “I want to send it up against Endeavour as a test.”

“Okay… and this has to do with Hawks… how, exactly? Not followin’ ya here, pretty boy.”

“I told Hawks I would let loose a Nomu at a warehouse by the coast to test its strength against some random hero. Which was initially the plan! But after seeing Hawks interacting with Endeavour this morning during the broadcast of the Hero Billboard Chart, I had a better idea. Why not have it fight Endeavour?”

You laughed, “I like the sound of that. I wanna watch shit go down, can I come with? Please let me come with, it’s so fucking boring around here I need to do something or I’ll die.”

“I wasn’t tellin’ you all this just to leave ya behind, doll. Of course I’m dragging you along. We should probably head out now, so we have plenty of time—Ujiko said he’d use that gross fuckin’ method to get us around, so we can just have him send us to the warehouse.” Dabi brushed off his pants and stood up.

“The one that makes you throw up to warp away? Eugh, it’s so disgusting. I hate that one!” You whined, but got up nonetheless.

“Yeah, yeah. But without Kurogiri we’ve got no other option. You ready to go?” Once you confirmed, Dabi reached up to his collar and pressed down on the communicator he had fixed into it. “Ujiko, send Y/N and I to the warehouse.”

You immediately made your displeasure known as soon as the black liquid burst out of your mouth and enveloped your body.

Once the warp had finished and you were both in front of the warehouse where the Nomu was stored, you made exaggerated gagging sounds. “I fuckin’ hate that. Why can’t it be more pleasant…”

“Sorry, doll.” Dabi shrugged, an amused smirk on his face. “You wanted to come with.”

“He should get a better goddamn way to warp…” you grumbled, rubbing the back of your neck with a scowl.

He gave you a pat on the shoulder, then pulled open the door to the warehouse. Dabi shoved his hands in his pockets, walking in slowly with you right behind. “The ones before didn’t really understand, but I expect more this time, High-End.”

The High-End Nomu was in a hunched over position. Its head turned towards the two of you and pupils appeared in its glowing eyes once Dabi spoke. “W-W-Won’t… l-let… won’t let you down…”

“Oh, it can talk?” You tilted your head, leaning to the side slightly. “Is it a High-End thing? Will it follow directions better?”

“Probably. I sure fuckin’ hope so, at least.” Dabi crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know your job?”

“F-Find… the stron-gest… and attack…”

“Go on then.” Dabi grinned lopsidedly. He stood back up and watched as the Nomu took off from the warehouse to find Endeavour. He then looked at you. “Didja bring your phone?”

“Mmhm.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket and held it out to him. “Do your thing.”

Dabi hummed and pulled up the news pages for any updates. Once one came through, he tapped on it to watch the live footage of Endeavour fighting the Nomu. “Oh, it’s strong.”

“Looks like it, yeah.” You set your chin on his shoulder as you watched with him. “Bodes well for us, at least. And watching Endeavour get his ass beat is pretty damn satisfying.”

The amusement faded once Endeavour started to actually make a dent in the Nomu. When he used his Prominence Burn move, Dabi swore under his breath. He handed you your phone back, then pressed on the communicator again.

“Ujiko. We need to get closer to Endeavour.”

You groaned a quiet ‘not again,’ but tucked your phone into your back pocket. You glared at Dabi as the black liquid poured out of your mouth and wrapped around your body. Once you were dropped near Endeavour, you lightly shoved him. “Asshole,” you grumbled, pouting.

“You wanted to come.” Dabi simply winked and gave you a lazy smile.

“Startin’ to regret it right about now, pretty boy,” you teased gently. “Let’s go bully an old man, yeah?” You raised an eyebrow when he took your chin in his hand.

“When we get over there, stay by my side, follow my lead. I don’t want you getting hurt, doll. I’m serious. Do you understand?” He only dropped his hand when you gave him a soft ‘yes.’ “Good. C’mon.”

As you made your way out of the alley you were deposited into, Dabi placed his palm on the small of your back. He kept it there until you stopped in front of Endeavour and Hawks, at which point he curled it around your waist.

“Just a minute now,” Dabi drawled. “None of this is how we planned it, but that’s fine.” He gave a menacing smile when the heroes startled. “Well, Endeavour… should I say nice to meet you?”

You grinned and waved from next to him. “We didn’t think you’d be here. You’re really not lookin’ too good there, Number One!” You taunted.

Endeavour’s face contorted in anger as his eyes fixated on Dabi. “It’s you! The one who murdered Snatch!”

“Sna—? Who?” As Dabi spoke, he tapped your hip twice. You took two steps forward and to the side so he could create a barrier of flames without burning you. “More importantly, let’s chat while we have the chance.”

“Take it easy, I’ll handle them,” Hawks said quickly as Endeavour tried and failed to get up. “I only have my tiny feathers left… but I can at least buy us some time.”

Dabi rolled his eyes and walked forwards. “C’mon, we’re only here to collect the Nomu. There’s no way we could actually win, right? Against the top two dudes, already beat up and bloodied?!” When he finished speaking, a feral grin pulled taut at his staples and he lunged forwards, igniting his forearms.

You caught sight of something moving in the sky, and immediately reached out towards his back. “Dabi, get back!” You shrieked.

Dabi extinguished his arms and jumped back beside you just in time to dodge the hero slamming into the ground in front of you. “Thanks, mouse.”

“Don’t mention it,” you breathed out, relief palpable in your voice. The two of you watched the new arrival carefully, unsure of your next moves.

“I saw the news and came hopping! Endeavour! Hawks! You boys don’t get to have all the fun! And you two—you’re with the League? Your butts’re about to get kicked!” The hero grinned, looking at you.

Dabi groaned. “Fuckin’ Mirko? Too bad… right when things were heating up, too.” He pressed the communicator. “Ujiko, get us out of here. Bye for now, Mr. Number One Hero. I’m sure we’ll get another chance to talk, but until then…” That feral grin made its way back onto Dabi’s face, this time splitting his skin as he shouted, “Just keep doing your thing and don’t go dying on me, ‘kay, Todoroki Enji?!”

Once you were safely back at the warehouse, you raised your hand to Dabi’s cheek, healing where his skin split. “You got a little too excited there, pretty boy.” Despite your unhappiness with the fact he hurt himself, your scolding was gentle. You shook your head with a fond smile and decided to let him off easy. “Why’d we come back here instead of going home?”

“Sorry, doll.” To his credit, Dabi did sound at least a little apologetic. He then shrugged, leaning against a support beam. “I had Ujiko plop us back here since I figured Hawks would come lookin’ for me after things didn’t go the way I initially said.”

“Ahh, I see. How long d’you think it’ll take the birdbrain to get over here?” You pulled out your phone, waving it. “We could play a game or some shit while we wait.”

“Who fuckin’ knows, so why the hell not. What kinda stupid games you got on here?” Dabi swiped your phone out of your hands, ignoring your brief indignant protest. You grumbled when you realised he wasn’t gonna give it back.

“Asshole…” you huffed, pouting as you rested your chin on his shoulder. “Let’s see… I downloaded that one game where one player holds the phone up to their forehead and has to guess the word as the other players give hints by acting it out—ah, yeah, that one right there! Charades! Toga wanted to play it one night with Twice and I. It wasn’t terrible, if not a little silly. Probably not your style.”

“Definitely not my style, doll,” Dabi snorted. “What else ya got?”

“Hell if I know. Toga’s always the one stealing my phone to download games. I don’t know why you people can’t use your own damn phones.”

“You charge your phone.”

“Well, start charging yours!” You reached around his arm for your phone, whining when Dabi held it out of reach. “Don’t be a brat, it’s not my fault you don’t remember to charge your phone! Gimmie!”

“Sorry, mouse. You’re the one who suggested to play a game,” Dabi drawled, grinning lazily.

“I didn’t think you would just take my phone!” You smacked him lightly on his shoulder, returning to pouting. “Can’t believe I love an overgrown child.”

“You’re the one pouting because you’re not getting your way.”

“I’m pouting because you took my phone and won’t give it back!”

Dabi chuckled and moved beside you, holding out your phone. “Fine, here ya go.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and shoved it into your back pocket. You opened your mouth to respond, but immediately stopped when Hawks walked in. Your grip on your cane tightened.

“None of that was according to plan,” Hawks spoke after he stopped in front of Dabi with an unamused expression.

“That so?” Dabi quipped back, raising an eyebrow.

A feather blade was held up to his neck faster than either of you could blink. You immediately bristled, but Dabi shook his head. “It’s alright, mouse,” he said, keeping his voice steady. You reluctantly settled down, glaring at the hero instead.

“How about some actual cooperation, Dabi?” Hawks narrowed his eyes, disregarding you for the moment.

“Hey, I thought you only had those baby feathers left?” Dabi tilted his head, taunting ever so slightly.

“You think I’d meet with a liar like you unarmed? It was supposed to be tomorrow. And not downtown, but at the factory by the water. You never mentioned bringing your little friend here, either.” Hawks’s expression darkened. “Plus, this Nomu was clearly a cut above the rest. You could’ve mentioned that beforehand.”

“That ‘friend’ is my partner, Y/N. You’d do well to remember their name, or I’ll brand it into you,” Dabi warned, then settled back into his laid back demeanour. “And I guess I just changed my mind. Didn’t I tell you I’d be testing the Nomu’s capabilities? But we’re both a little guilty. I asked you for someone kinda strong, but you brought the top dog himself! It wasn’t that much of a test.”

“I didn’t mean any offence, Dabi. No need to threaten me.” Hawks glanced at you, then turned his attention back to Dabi. “But I thought you’d be thrilled to inflict that kind of pain on him. Besides, you’re the one who broke our agreement.”

Dabi scoffed, “I’m s’posed to believe the number two hero, just like that? This was me testing how much I can trust you. And tell me, why zero casualties today?” He shifted his body sideways away from the blade. “Do you really sympathise with us? You came looking to cooperate, but you sure don’t act like it.”

You watched as Hawks’s face contorted in irritation, amusement bubbling up at his frustration.

“I gotta keep up appearances. A hero can’t go losing the public’s trust. The more faith they have in me, the juicer the intel I can get. That’s to your advantage. Try taking the long view here.” He lowered his blade as Dabi walked around him. “What I do, I do for the League’s sake, Dabi.”

“Fine… but you don’t get a face-to-face with the boss just yet. You’ll hear from us, Hawks.” Dabi looked over his shoulder at you. “C’mon, mouse.”

You smiled at that, straightening up. “Finally, I was getting bored here. See ya around, Number Two.” You manoeuvred around him with a wave, walking after Dabi.

Dabi stared out at the horizon as the sun rose, hands in his pockets. You were leaned against him with your eyes shut.

“Oh… oh! Right! That was Snatch!”

You hummed and looked up at Dabi when he spoke. “That was the sand guy, right? He made that stupid comment about the families of the people we kill?” You frowned as blood trickled out from his scars, gently wiping it away as he responded.

“Yeah, that one.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft. “I’ve thought about it so much that I’ve gone crazy.”

You gave a soft laugh at that. “At least you’ve got someone just as fuckin’ crazy by your side.”

“Yeah. At least I’ve got that.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #todoroki toya x reader #todoroki toya x you #toya todoroki x reader #toya todoroki x you #my writing #bnha fanfiction #navi: we cant fix each other #writing.txt

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empires-au-ideas · 3 years ago

Note

I thought of this last night and I adore it :)

So! Here’s (the summary of) a season crossover AU I’ve been calling the Storyteller AU.

The rulers of season one, after all dying in whatever way, were having a happy afterlife. The same one Scott went to, actually! But, at some point, they were all taken from it and plopped into strange lands (the season 2 map) as ghosts. They meet up and decide to get a lay of the land, then start figuring out what exactly to do.

In each of the s2 territories, there’s one spot with a large amount of concentrated magic, which the ghosts can exist near and absorb energy in order to become visible. They tell stories to the curious children who gather near them. Stories about themselves, friends, their people or their empires in general. (Most are twisted ever so slightly, so it’s a bit harder to figure out.) This starts to gain the attention of the s2 “rulers”, who decide to take the information they gather to lore man Pixlriffs, who starts slowly but surely unraveling the story the ghosts are telling.

The ghosts are not limited to their own counterparts’ territory, of course. So they move around quite a bit.

Shenanigans and also plot and maybe some angst ensue!

(Sorry this took so long to post I was out all day)

WFBJMCSH IN LOVE IN LOVE IN LOVE

All of them going to the same afterlife makes me soft. Their own little world where they get to hang out without war and strife and demons.

Ooh! I wonder where the magic is in each empire? Of course it's by the fountain in Joel's, maybe in a mineshaft at Jimmy's, the big mushroom at Shelby's (it'll be pretty hard to get a location since the season's still young) but ooh hoo hoo!

And I bet kids of all the empires love them! All of Gem's fairytales, Sausages maybe a bit morbid stories, and all of Joey's escapades on how he totally defeated Xornoth by himself.

I also wonder if uncorrupted Xornoth is there? I wonder what they have to say about these stories, or if they can even remember them. Thousands of years will little to do but talk is a lot of time to unpack stuff.

And as a few years go by, maybe those kids who listened travel the lands, telling the sane tales. There is a handful of independent bards all telling about the same tale.

The rulers come to Pix about this and well... the rest is history :)

#ask: au idea #storyteller au #empires smp #empires smp au #nocturne-the-raven

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 4 years ago

Note

I meant to send this here but sent a message instead. Either way 🤣

I know you’re not doing much writing right now, but if you feel inclined to do something anything fucked up for Valentine’s Day with Flip or Captain Blowhole, it could be the sort of fucked up that we all deserve!

Take on Captain Blowhole vs Cupid?!? Like Cpt Hook and Tinker Bell, except Cupid is a full sized ugly ass man with a beer gut like captain Underpants! 🤣

I’m literally writing a fic I’m titling Flip vs Cupid where he has to go arrest a flasher on V Day and has to tackle him down and wrestle around etc

A/N: Holy fuckin’ shit man! The third part in the Siren Series is finally here.... Who the hell am I being so efficient this week! The is the final part and I am so fuckin’ proud of this series I just had the best time writing it out! I hope you all love it and thank you @safarigirlsp for sending in the ask to finish this love fest out!

Warnings: tw: violence, tw: death, tw: assault (we get slapped as well as we slap someone too), degradation, slight edging, unprotected sex, angst, mutual pining, fluff because I love these two so much, misuse of pirate puns and buccaneer banter, smut because we all love some of that cock talk, mentions of a certain ADCU character entering the mix (the tides will tell us)

The night was long and cold, the depths reaching near frigid temperatures as the Jolly Roger trudged on through the beacon. Frost building on either side of the hull, encasing the wood in a tomb of sorts, causing shivers to radiate from the crew as the soft snow fell around them.

“C-Cap,” Ron shuddered at the wheel, his eyelashes coated in snowflakes as he kept Flip’s course steady and true, “you sure we’re goin’ the r-right way,” he shivered rubbing his extended arm to cultivate some heat while he waited for a response.

Flip coughed, a thick fog releasing from his mouth as he glanced up slowly, his inky locks coated in a slick of frost as well.

“It has to be,” he muttered, the vortex of the lights cascading around the entirety of the ship in a tube as the snow kept falling.

He glanced back down, running a quivering finger down the direction of the map, huffing when he noticed the course was tried and true to where his trusty ship was heading.

His chorus of shudders racking his body upon glancing back up at his lethargic crew, the snow and ice impeding them from their usual performances. The track of light fell where the sea met the sky, the eerie silence causing even more confusion as he noticed the pulsing of the colors in the distance.

He wondered if you were at the end of this so-called rainbow. If you would even recall who he was, let alone let you be taken by him again.

The shame settling over him in a veil as he began to worry about your rejection. You were completely out of his league in every aspect, including the fact that you could breathe underwater. What if he had set sail to track you down for nothing? Were you already occupied with another sailor, like a whore? Or was it just not meant to be based on the differences you shared?

Either way, his grouchy ass had to find that out on his own, rules be damned. You had been on his mind every single day since he’d taken you on those golden shores. Your face framed by the sun lived rent-free, your luscious body sand-covered and begging for him, your gorgeous voice echoing his name as a song in his head. It was all intoxicating and he had to hear you again before he burst into flames.

The vortex grew brighter and brighter, the sound of an impending whirlpool approaching with rapid speed in the direction of the ship. The crew jumping from the frigid conditions instantly as the hull rocked from the waves picking up and the amplified light.

“Hold steady boys!” his booming voice echoed through the deck as they scrambled to their stations, little puffs of fog making their way to the illuminated ceiling of the tunnel as they made ready for the next part of the journey.

“Cap?!” Ron frightened slightly as the wheel took on a mind of its own, spinning a fury while the bow dipped into the water vortex, “Cap what do I fuckin’ do?!” the both of them holding on for dear life as they began to spin down into the whirlpool.

“Hold the fuck on!” he gritted out, reaching for any piece of wood around them to ground them to the deck, the sounds of cries and yelps radiating through as the boat hurled towards the blackened center of the pool, a bright wormhole opening to glisten in his pupils as they approached it.

“Holy fuckin’ shit!” Ron cried out, completely scared out of his wits, grabbing onto the same piece of wood as his pal was, “Cap what’s going on?!” screaming at him while he watched Flip fixated on the light.

“I think it’s the entrance,” he spoke almost calmly, his ship barreling into the bright beacon with the littlest efforts, the entire crew stifling the light from their eyes with hands raised as it was sucked inward.

_____________

“Daddy what the hell is going on?!” you huffed into the throne room, your parents perched in their rightful places as you blew a huff of bubbles out in annoyance.

“I was busy,” crossing your arms as your tail spanned below you in a cascade of greens and blues, your hair flowing in the clear water as you scrunched your face.

“Watch your mouth, Y/N,” he commanded, pointing his trident in your direction, the threat causing you to roll your eyes and brush a hand in disgust.

After you had returned from your escapade, the torture had ensued. Your father put more pressure on you to fulfill his wishes of becoming married to the most suitable bachelor in the Seven Seas.

The thought of anyone but your sailor boy making you gag audibly as he showed you suitor after suitor for weeks and weeks, only to find himself more annoyed at your defiance of him.

“The time has come my daughter,” he boomed, your mother smiling uncomfortably at the exchange, gulping loudly before he continued his power trip over your duties as a Princess.

“The time has come for what?” scrunching your eyebrows at him in more annoyance as he smirked devilishly at you.

“For you to meet your betrothed,” he cooed, the bubbles condescendingly falling from his trout mouth as your jaw dropped before him.

You pushed a finger in your ear, making sure to clean it out properly before answering him back, “I’m sorry… my who?!” your eyes bugging out of your head before you could lunge at him in a fury.

“You know exactly what I said,” darkly speaking as he gestured his staff to open the double doors, revealing a merman as they escorted him to the side of your father.

“My sweet daughter,” he pandered, “this… is Matthew… The new future King of the Ocean,” the tall, blonde gentleman smiling as brightly as a guppy while he was doted on by your father. The sight of them nauseating you to no end as you surveyed him.

Arms still crossed over your covered tits, pushing them out slightly as you inched forward to take him in further. He wasn’t completely hideous, you thought to yourself, his face chiseled and handsome. His body was built heavy and stacked, abdominals straining under his scaled skin as you watched him speak in hushed tones to your father. His hair a cascade of golds and yellows, as the curls satisfyingly framed his face. But he wasn’t your sailor.

Your handsome, tall, and dark buccaneer. The one with the chiseled features, thick black locks, and a heavy swinging cock. He wasn’t even close to him, and would never be in your mind.

You looked around while they had their little conference, rudely ignoring your presence as you surveyed the room, wondering if you could make a break for it and go find your love again.

It wouldn’t be too hard, you thought, he wasn’t that elusive in any sense of the word. You knew his ship from stem to stern, having conjured it back from the depths while he laid passed out on the sand that day.

Recalled what his crew looked like, grabbing each of them from the Locker one by one to revive them. It would be as simple as recalling his trails he’d left coupled with your gift of echolocation to find him before he even blinked. You considered it. Biting a lip as you darted panicked eyes between the armed guards at all exits.

“Y/N,” your father cleared his throat, “are you going to introduce yourself to your future King?” he smiled again, extending a hand for yours to come closer.

“I’m so sorry about her,” he gripped your fingers in a death grip, a hiss coming out of your throat as he pulsed them, “she’s kind of spacey… forgive me,” pushing you to collide with his thick body in a thud.

“Ow! Fuck!” pushing him off you in an instant, putting your hands over your tits as they throbbed from the collision.

Another blow to the back of your head via the trident, “watch your whore mouth!” he boomed again, “I am deeply sorry, Matthew,” he smiled fakely again.

“It’s perfectly fine, Your Highness,” he bowed slightly, “I like my women a bit feisty,” the fire burning in his eyes as he glared down at you.

“The challenge of it all is… tantalizing,” taking your hand in his and bending down to lightly kiss it, the disgust fanning over you as his lips touched your scales.

“Y/N,” he cooed beneath you, “it is a pleasure to be in the presence of such… beauty,” the waft of heart-shaped bubbles escaping his lips as he weaved his words.

You pulled your hand, nursing it as you rubbed the spot where his snake-like lips had touched it, feeling utterly violated as your lips formed a pout in his direction.

You contemplated for a moment, going over the positives and negatives as you watched him gaze at you, his handsome features no doubt hiding his true identity underneath. You rustled up to meet his eye line, your eyes becoming slits as you whispered, “You will never be my betrothed,” you menacingly growled, fangs snarling in his direction as you watched the flames blaze from a soft pink in his eyes to a glowing red.

“You disgusting, conniving, snake!” landing a hard slap on his face before a shrill scream left your mother in awe of your actions.

“You little bitch!” he hissed, watching the anger boil over you while your father lit up behind you in a rage.

“How dare you, Y/N!” he boomed again, “you’re going to marry Matthew if it’s my last dying wish!” the tears spilling down your face as you spun around to meet his gaze.

“Make me daddy!” you spat in his face, ready to give him another set of choice words before a huge flash of light interrupted the party.

The whole group turning glances at each other, “did someone open the portal?” your mother putting her hand over her mouth in fear, cowering behind your father in a fit that made you cringe.

“Your Highness, I can go check it out… There’s no reason for you to be put in danger over this,” he bravely puffed his chest out like a pompous jerk, patting the top of your head like a child.

“Stay here my fiery siren,” he spewed, the nickname making you shoot daggers his way as he swam his way out of the balcony. All of you collectively inching out to see a huge bubble encasing a massive ship in the middle of the city.

Gasps of shocked cries ringing out as passerby gazed in wonder at the bubbling orb floating in suspense, seemingly unphased by the fact it was smack dab in the center of a lost city.

You squinted, not looking at your slimy suitor but the boat encased in the waves, cocking your head as it came clearer into your view.

You audibly gasped, the flurry of bubbles and a wave as you placed both hands over your mouth, hoping your parents didn’t notice your surprise.

“Don’t worry Y/N,” your dad placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, “when he gets back you can ask for an apology… I know he’s a man of reason,” smirking down thinking you were worried for his safety.

_________________

“What the fuck?!” Flip scared out of his wits echoed as his voice reverberated along the walls of the water bubble. His crew shouting all kinds of curses as they prayed Hail Mary’s over the devil magic that had brought them to their orbed hell.

He panicked, running from all sides of the ship, rubbing his eyes as he gazed around at the majesty that had cleared around the encasement.

The city was a beacon in the depths of the darkness. The cool blue waters surrounding all sides of him in a tropical paradise littered with all colors of fish, seaweed, glorious statues, and towers, all centered around a glimmering castle.

He gulped when he caught a glance of panicked merfolk, the realization that they were circling he and his crew sending him spiraling as he gleefully smiled at his successful venture.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” he gasped, “Ron… R-Ron we made it,” he panted, begging his buddy to pinch him to see if he was dreaming. It was just as the books had revealed. The mecca in the ocean was lost to all the land dwellers in a mysterious flash. Yet here he was, face to face with a slew of shocked faces gazing at him like they were the fish out of water.

“W-what do we do now, Cap?” Ron tugged at his jacket, Flip frozen in place just like his crew as they deadpanned the scene before them of hoards of merpeople all ages crowding around their forcefield.

“I-I’m not entirely sure,” he quipped back, “I didn’t think we’d actually get this far,” gripping his friend’s hand on his shoulder before shuffling it off of him. He walked towards the starboard bow, coming face to face with a pink-tinged merman.

The tips of his blonde locks a rose color, his chiseled face looking slightly similar in character to him. It was eerie how close their bone structure was, like looking in a mirror but morphed into a blonde wig instead of his trademark black waves. He cocked his face to the side, the handsome face doing a similar gesture as his pink irises came into a clear view. The slits of his pupils boring into Flip’s golden ones as he surveyed his near doppelganger.

He cleared his throat, thinking to speak, and then possibly realizing it may not be heard via the separation between him and the mysterious fish. He squared him up even further, glancing down the expanse of his thick chest, rippling abs, and his stark pink tail, whipping in the waves as he noticed him doing the same thing.

The silent exchange making Flip shiver with unsureness. He had never felt this way. He had stormed a slew of shores in his days, being the young swashbuckler he was, and come across many a menacing buccaneer, and slew them like the stud he was.

But this… was enemy territory… and by enemy, he knew he was number one on the crowd’s list. The foreigner who crashed into town unannounced, and unwelcome, all to search for a woman. Isn’t that how it always goes though?

“What have you come here for, sailor?” the haunting voice of the merman penetrating the wall in a clear, melodious tone, like he was inside with them. The crew shuddering from the sound, begging Flip to look away as if he were Medusa.

He cleared his throat, breaking from the hold his gaze had on him, gripping the sides of his jacket as he spoke, “I’m here to find one of your kind, merman,” his eyebrow cocked as the man looked unimpressed at his response.

“Is that so?” he smirked, his fangs slightly showing as his voice, mesmerized Flip even further, “and who… may I ask, would you be possibly looking for 7,000 leagues under the sea?” the man entertaining his stupidity as he pandered to the captain.

“For your information, fish boy,” he sneered, not loving the condescension in his tone, “I’m looking for a siren…” meeting his menacing stare noses touching the wall of water between them.

“There’s a million sirens in this town, swashbuckler,” he chided, “you’re gonna have to be more specific… or are you too drunk to remember your own name?” the joke producing a fit of giggles from the crowd behind him.

“Sober as a stone, Pinky,” dishing it right back to him, a frown emerging from his lips at the degrading name, “Y/N… That’s her name,” the tone of his voice lowering as he watched the fire boil in the man’s eyes.

“Y/N?” his fists forming as his tinge on his entire body went from a blushed pink to a bright red, turning around to face you on the balcony.

You gulped, waiting for the mess to start as your betrothed beckoned you with a finger to the bubble.

“My darling,” he cooed, the flames boiling over as he tried to keep his composure, “you have a visitor,” gripping your hand in the same as your father had done the time before, a hiss leaving your lips as you flashed your fangs at him.

“You mean, Princess Y/N of the Sevens Seas? My betrothed?” he chanted, the anger completely seething from his teeth as he presented you to the captain.

Your shocked face coming nose to nose with your sailor in a fit of embarrassment as you realized he was dangling you like chum in front of him.

“Sailor?” you gasped, his handsome face becoming more clear as your delicate hands touched the side of the bubble, your magic clearing the path to a thin line to see his precious face gaze at you.

“Y/N?” his heart almost leaping out of his chest as his hands met the spot where yours were on the opposite side, “I thought I wouldn’t ever see your gorgeous face again,” wanting so badly to feel your plush lips on his as you watched his face soften at the sight of you.

“I’m here, Captain,” you quipped, trying to hide your expressions as the grip on the back of your head tightened from your other suitor. The blood boiling in his hands singing your scalp as he listened to you quietly spoke to your true love.

He jerked your body away from the wall, the feeling putting you into whiplash as he threw you back, “how dare you,” he seethed, his eyes glowing even brighter upon seeing you fawn over a human.

“How. Dare. You. Fucking slut!” the explosion of a fireball and a cascade of black bubbles emitting from his head as he blew his top.

“You fucked this garbage didn’t you, whore?!” he angrily pointed at you, your expression telling him everything as you darted glances between him and your sailor boy.

He towered over you, lifting a heavy hand to your face, and slapping you with all the effort he could muster, “answer me you fucking land lover!” the tears spilling as you tried to gulp the words out, your silence doing more to egg on his mood.

“Get your fuckin’ prissy hands off her and fight me like a fuckin’ man!” a booming voice echoed from the bubble, revealing a spent Flip, his jacket and hat torn off in a fury over the show he’d seen.

Matthew turned, steam shooting from his ears as he watched Flip stand his ground on his ship, “You wanna fight you fuckin’ bastard?!” inching to him and morphing himself to a human in a flash, his tinge not changed as he appeared on the deck, fire blazing in between his fingers as he stood toe to toe with the captain.

“Let’s fuckin’ fight,” he calmly huffed, his teeth hissing out heavy breaths as Flip removed his sword from his waist, standing ready to fight.

“Let’s go Pinky!” he gritted, moving to throw the first blow, metal colliding with his fiery fist in a flash of sparks.

The clanging of blows hitting in tandem as they danced across the upper deck of the ship. Flip bobbed every attack he had, same with Matt. The both of them reading each other’s movements like a dance before landing a crushing blow to the merman’s shoulder, the blood spewing out in a wave that splatter all over Flip’s shirt and exposed chest.

“You’re gonna regret that, sailor,” his devilish grin spurring him to attack faster and more agile as he landed an equally hard blow to the buccaneer’s midsection. The fire burning his skin in a sear of pain as he grunted a moan, stumbling back up while Matt chuckled at his victory.

“Had enough?” he pandered, cocking his fiery head to the captain.

“Not even close, fire crotch,” upturning a smirk as he jabbed another blow to his chest this time, the blade piercing in a spray of blood again as a cry rang out through the orb.

You watched in complete terror. Each blow getting more and more deadly as they duked it out.

Soon, Flip was gasping for breath, trying to center himself as he sustained more damage. Matthew noticing him falter under his superiority and making a note as he watched him weakly get back up after the last blow he’d taken to his stomach again.

“What’s the matter sailor?” he chided, loading up another crushing blow as he watched his enemy pant, his weapon falling at his side in exhaustion, “too much rum?” laughing as he landed a crushing blow to the top of his head, knocking Flip out cold underneath him.

He smirked, surveying the crew as they stood back, scared out of their boots. He huffed, walking to the edge to find you, panicked and shocked at the turn of events.

“My sweet love,” he cooed, the fire still burning at a dull roar as he spoke, “you’re going to forget this ever happened… and you will call me your King, just like you’re going to be my slave the rest of your days in this ocean,” his commands cutting you like a knife as you sobbed uncontrollably.

“Fuck you!” pounding on the bubble wall in a fit as he maniacally cackled in front of you, “I’ll never be yours, fucking pink bastard!” spitting as it fueled his raged laughs.

“Now, now…” he tsked, running a slick finger to where your forearm was rested on the wall, “I love my women feisty,” cooing again as you writhed in frustration and pain for your sailor.

Your eyes closed shut as you heard his evil cackle ring through your ears, only to look up when it was stifled by a muffle it seemed.

You glanced back up, eyes blurred as you blinked your vision back to see what had happened now.

Flip stood towering over the fireball, his sword logged from his back to poke out his beating heart like a skewer, while his thick hand fell over his mouth, eyes rolling back in his head as he succumbed to the sweet release of death.

“Heartless mother fucker,” he gritted, driving the sword back out of your betrothed, his limp body crashing to the deck in a thud.

“Flip!” you cried, pawing at the wall when his gaze met yours, his exhausted body breathing a sigh of relief when he saw you.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he cooed, your tears dripping even further as you pined for his touch.

“Flip I-I’m so sorry,” you whined, wishing you had the right words to say in this exact moment, “I shouldn’t have ever… Fuck, I shouldn’t have left home!” beating the bubble again in a fit of self-pity as you watched him wince gripping his side in pain.

“Don’t ever apologize, sugar,” he cooed, the pained smile coming over his face as he limped over to you, “you’re the best adventure I’ve had,” putting a hand to meet yours on the wall again, both foreheads leaning to meet too as you both exhaled in adoration of each other.

“I-I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he admitted, his hushed tone so low that only you were able to hear it.

“Neither have I,” you whispered in the same tone, the smiles and fits of laughter falling over the both of you as the tears kept rolling.

“Can ya come with me? I need you… More than I care to admit,” he bashfully shied away, your face curling into pure joy as you realized what he had asked of you.

“You mean… Forever?” biting a lip to hear him beg for you.

“Well I didn’t fuckin’ cross the entire ocean, go down a tunnel of doomed light, swirl into a fuckin’ whirlpool, and fight pinky over here to just ask for one more night of sand sex,” kicking the limp noodle on the ground in a huff.

You laughed out loud, the bubbles leaving your mouth before you placed your finger over it in embarrassment.

You turned to glance at your parents, who, by now, had ventured through the crowd to marvel at the orb, seeing the debauchery unfold in horror.

“Daddy?” you questioned, wincing slightly as you turned around to see your father in complete shock.

“Daddy? I-I,” you couldn’t get the words out before your father wrapped you up in the biggest embrace he had ever given you. Your arms only wrapped around him after you realized what was occurring, the tears now a blubbering mess as you hid in his huge frame.

“Go,” were the words you heard. You looked up, shaking your head from side to side in denial as you wept in front of him.

“Go… have your freedom, my sweet baby girl,” placing a soft hand to your as he dried a tear from your cheek.

“B-but, daddy my duties, I-I,” he shushed you, looking with all of the love he could conjure up.

“Fuck all of that,” a laugh echoing from his lungs, “I want you to have an adventure… go find something worthwhile… and with someone you love… this place will still be here if you want to come back, sweet thing,” the words spilling from his lips causing your jaw to drop open again.

“Daddy, wha-,” wondering if this was all a charade to keep you here with them.

“This lad must truly love you if he trekked across the ocean to find you,” looking to Flip who was registering the conversation before his eyes.

“I think that says more about his character than any of the suitors we had picked for you,” his voice calm and collected as he spoke back to you. The silent exchange of love between you a welcome embrace to the fights you’d been having since you had turned thirteen.

“I-I do love him,” looking back to his boyish smile as he stumbled from the pain on his side again.

“I know you do, sweet siren,” he brushed a hair from your face, “now go… have an adventure I could never have,” pressing his forehead to yours as you both reveled in the peace of the exchange.

You broke your hug, barreling to your mother who had at this point, sobbed the entire ocean over sea level, and gave her the largest hug.

“I’ll be back mommy,” you cried, kissing her forehead as you back away from your family, waving at the crowd of folk surrounding you before morphing into your human form and sucking yourself into the bubble.

You gathered yourself, getting your wet hair back, and shuffling off the water as your soaked nude form came to his view.

“Hey sailor,” you cooed out, shy as you batted those gorgeous lashes his way, your silky body glistening with water droplets for the whole world to see.

“Hey there, my sweet siren,” he panted back, gulping some air as he winced in another round of pain.

“Holy shit,” you gasped, running to his aid, “sailor… You’re hurt,” putting a delicate hand to feel the heat from his abdominals pulsing under him.

“Nah,” he grunted, leaning on your for support as you walked his down to the double doors of the main deck, “I’m tough as they come, sugar, I’ll be fit as a fiddle in a few days,” wincing in pain again with a groan.

The crew had been eyeing your form as your cascaded down the stairs, tits and areolas bouncing, bare cunt flashed unbeknownst as you were more preoccupied with Flip and his health.

You both glanced around, wondering why the guys weren’t preparing to blast out of this popsicle stand. Their jaws gaping as they surveyed your ample curves, Flip’s face inches from a supple tit as he registered reality.

“Mother of fuck!” he got up, the pain in his voice echoed as he stood to cover your body with his, “get hold the sheet and get us the fuck outta here you peepin’ Tom’s!” he bellowed, the boys coming to attention and scrambling with their orders as they were still flustered over your beauty.

Flip pushed you back into the doors, trudging into his quarters with a thud as he landed on his bed. You went right to work, ripping his shirt off, and tending to his wounds while you both felt the ship take off to the surface.

__________________

“You know you never told me you were a Princess,” his gruff voice whispered as the night had set over the sky, his body littered with bandages as you tended to each with the most care.

“Forgive me… The last time we were together it didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up,” you quipped back, earning a low hum from his chest to ring out.

“Matty boy was right… You are kinda feisty,” he quoted the smirk over his lips deepening as he watched your face scrunch in disgust over the name.

“If you’re trying to get some tonight, you’re not winning any style points by bringing that snake up,” pressing a little harder on a wound to see him writhe in pain slightly.

“Sorry, sugar,” he chided, “but it’s somewhat true,” he chuckled shying away as you tried to push on another cut to cause him some more pain.

“Such a smooth sailor,” you sang, your lips ghosting his as you drank in his musk.

“That’s what they call me,” he dished right back inching his mouth on yours in a dainty kiss.

The feeling was elating. Your lips connected in tandem as they begged for more, the tongues dancing in your mouths as his hands snaked to grip your bare tits in his thick digits.

A relieved gasp left your chest, followed by a moan when he ran his thumbs over your peaks, the circles to magical as they coaxed you to straddle his lap with a soft grind on his hardened erection.

“I missed these gorgeous tits,” he moaned, moving his lips to your right breast and sucking the life out of it before doing to same to the other.

You fumbled with his pants, pulling his bloomers down in a fervor as his cock sprung to attention, the weeping head falling in the direction of his left-leaning tower. It expanded the length of your thigh, the purple head, begging to be sucked up into your cunt as the precum slid on the inner meat of your leg.

“I missed this cock of yours, captain,” you moaned, your words egging him on as he assaulted your chest with a variety of bites and bruises, hands gripping your ass with all the strength he had in him.

You brought it to your entrance, rubbing the tip on your bud as it slicked up the wetness that had formed over the course of being reunited with your man. The feeling of it tapping your bean sending waves of electricity through your spine, throwing your head back as you sat on him inch by delicious inch.

“M-mother f-fuck,” he grit out, his teeth still encasing a nipple as he bit down on it in pleasure, “this fucking cunt,” his breath coming in hot and heavy as he watched your face fill with bliss.

“There’s nothin’ like this perfect pussy of yours,” he panted out, your grinding on his pelvis spurring his dirty mouth to spill out obscenities.

He bucked up into you, meeting your cervix with every push as he watched you edge yourself over him.

“You like your shores stormed, huh, siren,” he grunted, feeling your walls flutter around him as you fucked yourself into your release.

“I fuckin’ love this mast of yours,” echoing back as you rode out your orgasm, the feeling of his pubic hair and his tip knocking your spot a magical combination as you clenched around him in a death grip.

“That’s my good girl,” he groaned out, the overwhelming feeling over your luscious cunt spilling all over him sending him into overdrive as he stilled your hips.

He spilled his swimmers deep into you, the endless waves of white coating your sandy beach in a glaze as he finished his motions under you. You fucked faces gasping for air as you both came down from the high of the night.

You collapsed on him, making sure to avoid his wounds as he kept a steady arm around you. Petting his chest as you felt a gush of spend escape your full cunt.

“I’m never gonna lose you again, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing your head as he nuzzled you closer to him. Your leg wrapped around him in a koala as you both closed your eyes in bliss.

“Trust me, sailor,” you cooed back, letting out a heavy sigh, “I’m not goin’ anywhere now,” slowly drifting off to the sounds of his cold heart beating in your ears.

____________

HOLY MOLEY I FINISHED A SERIES FINALLY I AM SO EXCITED! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THIS WHALE COCK OF A TALE!

taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @mrs-zimmerman, @thepalaceofmelanie, @hopeamarsu, @caillea, @historyandfandoms50, @mariesackler, @millenialcatlady, @thepriceofstars, @roanniom, @kathorax, @driversmutbucket, @clydes-hole, @xxcatrenxx, @paper-n-ashes

LMK if ya would like to be added to the list! All of the love!

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman request #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip x reader #flip x you #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman fluff #500 follower celebration #valentines week #siren series

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mantrabay · 4 years ago

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Echoes Of A Shady Past.

An icy chill descends on 13 Beaver Veil Cottage as sisters Ester and Ellie walk gingerly up the steps on this wet and windy night.

This once charming pied-a-terre was now in a final phase denouement.

The trees surrounding this house creak ominously overhead as tangled electric wires cackle in the rusty leaves.

"Night owls like us should be wary.”

Ellie sighs in a shudder as her sniffling nose warps her every word.

"Yes......Ellie, watch your every step or we could be joining our Uncle Denny and Auntie Diane in that eternal place in the sky, that is, if there is one.” Ester countered with a ghost- laden voice.

"Heavens above or heaven on earth your faith or is it fate is sealed in another world.”

Ester continued dryly.

A loose tile suddenly drops in front of both of them as they approach the rotting front door of this old period home

with its spaced windows, dripping eaves, and contoured outlines.

"Focus that torch of yours, Ellie.

Look at how evenly split those tiles are.

The hidden hand of a superior being no doubt.” The moon peeps behind the clouds almost in sync with Ester‘s edgy broadside.

Ellie smirks nervously as they both tread the damp dark hallway with its crumbling structures and sinister undertone.

“Auntie Diane and Uncle Denny used to poke fun at our squabbles when we were caring for them.

Like ourselves they were natural mimics.

They loved copycatting our voices just as we did when imitating them.”

Ellie's tone a haunting echo reverberating around the interior of this latter day cave.

"Oddly enough Diane always had her worry beads with her. But our impish banter offset her angst. Auntie’s ripples of laughter at the two of us proved that.”

Ellie once more stressing a point.

"Indeed.” Ester concurred. "Denny was more unearthly in his asides.”

Pictures, CDS and other personal belongings seemed either to appear out of nowhere or were left strewn as if they had been planted deliberately.

“Ester...where are you? My walks,...My walks....I know you are hiding on me.”

Ellie’s mischievous giggle now a misty cacophony in imitation of uncle Denny’s sonorous voice.

"The joker within me surfaces despite myself.”

Ellie deadpans.

"Joker or perhaps a lurking scruple or two.”

Ester replied as she cast her auntie Diane’s scapulars at Ellie which she had just spotted on the floor next to a Light Emission Diode gadget.

This religious object somehow missed its target.

"Far too long brewing that coffee.

Are you making that Percolator?"

Ester assuming her aunt Diane's plummy twang.

Within seconds a swirling witch's brew of Diane and Denny voices filled the air in grotesque mockery as the sisters taunt each other in rotation.

“You are holding on too tightly, Diane. I need a rest Uncle Denny.”

Ellie calls for an immediate halt to this hair-raising escapade.

“We both cared for our relatives as best we could." Ellie observes against this web of suspense.

“Diane with her plain dress sense at odds with her aura loved to drop oblique hints about delays. Oh.... and that rocking chair.”

Ellie opined. “All an act too...she was never glued to it when it suited. The sudden movements and those long- range controlling beams from her peepers.”

Ellie darkly noted.

"As for Denny and his colour scheme clothing. He was always nudging Diane when we stared at each other. They had an inkling as to when you and I would row over the Eternal Life question.....or some other state beyond this earth."

Ester her voice now saturated with the dampness of this old house.

"The 13 BEAVER VEIL BROUHAHA.”

Ester as she adds another spine-tingling quip to the proceedings.

“They loved our spats.”

Ellie whispers amid the sound of scurrying mice and sinister splish-splash of ceiling leaks.

"This hovel could still be the death of us literally.

It has decayed since our last visit.”

The sisters' voices now merge as one.

For whatever reason Ellie seemed to be curiously familiar with this dwelling despite the fact that it was supposed to be their first visit in six months.

Ester’s suspicions had been heightened every minute they spent in this abode.

Diane and Denny had a special sense of attachment to this house despite the best wishes of their caretakers.

The elders revelled in this old home and its ghastly....indeed ghostly choir of sounds from the mists of time.

"Have you the gumption to climb these stairs?

After all, the way things are going this could be our last chance to peer around Diane and Denny's rooms."

Ellie’s wet croak vent in the ascendant.

"Wouldn't be too sure about the lights unless there's Divine Light.”

Ester and Ellie jostling with each other.

A pregnant silence ensued followed by spooky giggles.

Ester and Ellie climb the stairs carefully eyeing their surroundings while they take big gulps of dank mould air.

This was no time for either to lose their balance.

Suddenly a burst of thunder and a scattered moonlit beam meld with Ester’s frightened shriek.

"Ellie, am I seeing things? It's the rocking chair. Is that where you left it the last time?.....on the top of the stairs." Ester now frantic.

"Now you might believe in a higher power ,,,er...gosh.” Gasps Ellie.

"There's a faint outline in the chair. Apparition or spirit.” Ellie again.

"Where's my tea? Aren't you going to read to me? Are you two still at it?”

Diane's voice or its like as it flits from spot to spot.

"Ellie please not now ….oh no is that Denny?”

Ester was almost possessed.

Denny was seemingly speaking through her in retaliation.

"I'm here, those delays, feeling guilty are we?” Was I that much trouble?”

The rocking chair was tilting back and forth as if it was about to tumble.

The ceiling plaster crashes as Ellie and Ester grab each other before heading back downstairs.

They dash to the front door which Ellie had forgotten to shut.

It looked as if the door was going to close of its own accord.

The rocking chair was now at the foot of the stairs as they just managed to squeeze past the closing door without being trapped.

Just!

" Keep running.”

Ellie her words nearly choking her.

Out the gate and down the main road they fled against a bizarre backdrop of strange whirlpool noises emanating from the house they had barely escaped.

"Phew that was close....I never want that experience again." Ester blurts.

“You seemed to know the house much better than I did?" Ester again in an arched tone.

“You haven't been out there by yourself within the last six months?"

Ester posing the question again suspiciously.

"Oh.....oh...no….that God is my witness.”

Ellie gleams with her ironic religious retort.

And the moon peeps out again from behind the clouds as Ellie and Ester continue to flee.

Their fearful laughter mingling with beads of sweat that segue into the frost encrusted air for miles around.

Photograph and short story copyright protected by mantrabay

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thewalkingfanfictions · 5 years ago

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Softly, Barely a Whisper -- Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (part one)

Softly, Barely a Whisper — Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (pre apocalypse) (part one)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

Description: (Name) moved in with her uncle, the Sheriff of a little town in Northern Georgia, to escape an abusive household. While living with her uncle, she meets Daryl, a redneck with a heart of gold and a life very similar hers. Fluff and angst and awkward shy Daryl Dixon ensue.

⚠Warning⚠: great amounts of bad language, past mentions of abuse, past mentions of rape, there's probably more, this'n's kinda a mess. Don't read if you get triggered easily.

Genre: angsty fluff?? Hurt/comfort?? I've no idea. Is awkward Daryl a genre?

Pairing: teen!Daryl Dixon x teen!fem!abused!reader

A/N: hey, sorry I've been gone for forever, I suck at commitment. I also suck at naming things, hence the title. I wrote another long motherfucker of a "oneshot" and therefore am breaking it into chapters like I did with Impromptu Cuddles, so look out for the other chapters soon enough. Enjoy.

Words without A/N: 3242

<—————————————>

"Sure thing, Daryl. You can use whatever ya'd like, just make sure you put it back afterwards. The doors unlocked and yer more than welcome to go in for a drink or anythin' if ya need it." Bill Coleman, or Sheriff Coleman, as most knew him by, called out as he moved to open the door to his cruiser.

The Sheriff was an interesting character to the youngest Dixon. He had hardened features and a voice like a gravel truck that immediately implied a harsh disposition, his eyes were constantly squinted into a look that resembled judgment, and the vibe he gave off was just generally unpleasant; but, in all reality, Bill Coleman was probably the gentlest man Daryl had ever met. He understood the workings of the Dixon household without ever having to be told, and did what he could to make life any bit easier for the teenager. Whether that be arresting the senior Dixon whenever he found possible, or offering Daryl a place to stay in his home over the weekend. Bill was, all in all, a genuinely kind human being. Something, Daryl found, was rather rare in his life.

But, even though the Sheriff had his trust, and he knew the Sheriff trusted him the same, it still came as a bit of a shock to him to see the officer willingly let him, a Dixon, have open access to his house while no one else was home.

Everyone knew not to trust a Dixon. Nobody in the town was willing to make eye contact with him, let alone trust him to their house and belongings while they were away. Will, his father, had done a fine job of destroying the family name in his drunken escapades, and his brothers addictions did nothing to help. This, combined with the confusion and disbelief that coursed through his system, explained the gawk the boy's eyes held as he stared in awe at Mr. Coleman's retreating figure.

This had to be some kind of trick, right?

"Oh," the Sheriff called. There it was, the part where he'd laugh it off and say "just kidding. Like I'd let a freak like you into my home without supervision."

Once again surprising the young man, his expectation was the farthest thing from what the greying man actually said.

"I fergot ta mention my niece, my sisters kid. She'll be here soon enough, gets off work in a half hour or so. She's been stayin' with me since, ah–" he trailed off a bit, one leg up in the cruiser, the other still planted firmly on the ground as he looked at Daryl over the door's window, looking mildly uncomfortable "–well, she's jus' stayin' with me. She's real sweet, you'll prolly get along with 'er. Jus', eh, just be soft, ya hear? She's a bit skittish, and real shy, too, so don't be too offended if she avoids ya, she don't mean it rude like."

And what on earth could he mean by that? The avoiding that he'd done when describing why she was here, what had happened that he didn't want to talk about? Daryl had a few theories already.

"'Till later, Daryl. Take care, and remember what I told ya, boy." With a wave and a caring (or warning, he could never quite tell with the old man) smile, the grizzled man pulled out of the small driveway and onto the road leading out of the trailer park to go do his civic duty, leaving a still heavily confused, and now slightly concerned, Daryl Dixon standing outside of his garage.

This man, knowing his family's history with bad habits, was not only willing to let the teenager into his home without a watchful eye, but was also perfectly okay knowing he'd be there, alone, with his (skittish and shy) niece?

Maybe the old man is finally losing it, he thought.

Still in shock, the young man turned on his heel, and began the short trek back to the shedd to continue working on the pickup that he had been working on fixing up. Though it was really nothing but a shell sitting on bricks right now, he knew that someday it'd be his pride and joy.

Some uncounted amount of time later, Daryl was finally pulling himself out from under the hood. His throat itched with dryness, and he was covered in sweat from the never-ending harshness of the Georgian sun, but, nonetheless, he couldn't help the little spike of pride that ran through him as he looked down at the beginnings of the new-made guts of his pickup. Allowing himself the luxury of a small smile, he decided he'd finally take the old Sheriff up on his offer, and moved to head into the house to grab something to wet his throat, and maybe even a rag to wipe off his face, if he was feeling risky.

He found, upon entry, that the house was relatively clean. Cleaner than it had been the last time he'd been in there, at least, and only as clean as an old trailer house could really get.

Still, where before there had been newspapers scattered, now there were none, and in place of the cluttered kitchen was a clean countertop and a basket of fresh apples. He didn't dwell on it a whole lot as he moved to the sink to fill up a plastic solo cup, though he did wonder if Bill would mind if he stole an apple. The young Dixon couldn't really remember the last time he'd eaten.

Filling his cup, he was quick to chug it down, the cold a dramatic (but welcome) shock against the harsh dryness of his throat. He let the water run into the sinks basin as he filled the cup up again, again, and then one more time, and only on his fifth return to the water did he realize the difference in sound. A few inches of water was backed up in the bottom of the sink, refusing to go down the drain like it should, and completely changing the sound the water pouring from the faucet made as it headed downwards.

Quickly setting the cup aside and turning off the faucet, he watched the water make its incredibly slow decent into the drain, and decided he needed to pay back Sheriff Coleman's hospitality. It was the least he could do, after all.

Opening the doors that lead to the plumbing beneath the sink, Daryl set himself to work.

~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~

"Good night, (name)!" Mr. Sennet's overly cheery voice called to the young woman as she moved her way through the front doors of the diner.

Calling out a quick goodbye to him as well, she hurriedly climbed into her rig. A shitty little Honda though she was, she still got the young (name) from a to b, and (name) would be forever grateful to her uncle for gifting it to her.

Dusk was just beginning to settle as she took off towards her new residence, and she worried slightly if her uncle would be angry that she was out later than usual. The diner had been busier tonight than normal, and instead of getting off at seven, as per usual, it was now closer to nine.

Taking a calming breath, she reminded herself aloud:

"He's not like they were, he won't be mad at you. He's not like them, he won't be mad."

Though she really did believe it, she still repeated it aloud to herself the entire way back to the house, as if she thought she could will it into existence if she hoped hard enough.

It was silly, she knew, but she didn't really care. After all she'd been through, she thought she deserved a little self reassurance.

The drive to her new home was short lived, though she didn't much mind. She hated to be alone now, it gave her too much time to think, and far too much time to overthink. A regular pastime of hers, it seemed.

It was odd, really. Before, when it was just her and the chromed glass house and the bruising voices, before she was taken away by her uncle, she loved to be alone. She cherished the times of peace she had between the hurt. Now, if she was alone for more than thirty minutes, it was likely she'd be found having a mental breakdown in a bathtub.

But, enough of the depressing stuff.

As the scarred girl pulled into the driveway, she didn't notice the second pair of tracks that accompanied her uncles, as she was far too wrapped up in her head. Something she'd be sure to kick herself for at a later date. She didn't notice the single light that was on in the kitchen, either, nor did she pay mind to the tools that lay neatly around their box as she passed the shedd that functioned as a garage, and she simply put the shell of a pickup truck that sat just outside off as another of her uncles pastimes. Opening and stepping through the front door, she didn't even notice the smudge of mud off the sole of someone's shoe that was left on the carpet.

She did, however, definitely notice the way the hair on the back if her neck stood to attention at the sound of a voice that most definitely wasn't the Sheriffs cursing angrily from the kitchen. Metal clinking to the ground and a tapping on something that echoed like tubing followed behind the exclamation, and (name) felt herself seize up in fear.

"It can't be them," she reminded herself silently, "it isn't them, it can't be."

Swallowing her fear, trying desperately not to let the tears that branded the backs of her eyes build enough to fall, (name) forced herself to move farther into the room, grabbing the aluminum baseball bat that resided behind the door and dropping her bag by a table near the door as she did.

Thinking back to the little bit of self defence that Bill had taught her upon her moving in, she pulled the bat to her side to keep it close enough that no one could easily pull it from her grasp, but could still cause some damage if shoved forwards hard enough.

Sneaking around the corner of the refrigerator that hid the person from view, she took a deep, calming breath before poking her head around to take a peek.

He was young, she could tell, likely not much older than herself. Shaggy, brown-blond hair nearly reached broad shoulders, and even though he was hunched over beneath the kitchen sink, she could still tell he was much larger than her. Muscles flexed under a sleeveless button-down shirt as he twisted a wrench against the plumbing under the basin, grunting lightly as he did.

He didn't seem like he was there to cause trouble, she figured. Who in their right minds broke into a house just to fix their backed up sink? Oh dear, maybe he's not in his right mind? What if they sent him and he's here to kill the girl? What if he was there to bring her back to them somehow? But they were away, they couldn't hurt her, could they? Even from the depths of prison, or the entrapment of the psych ward, the girl didn't really doubt that one of the two could get a word out to have her hurt (killed?) for getting them put away. She was going to die now and she wouldn't even be able to fix the meatloaf that she had planned for tonight's dinner. She felt her body begin to tremble (or perhaps it was already, and she only just then noticed) and her eyes glazed themselves with tears, to her dismay.

Could she swing and knock him unconscious? Could she at least discombobulate the man long enough to escape? Could she really even hurt somebody like that?

Before she could come to a decision, however, the decision came to her.

Away in the living room, a phone rang. The shrill tlrrring! making both bodies jump slightly, and causing the boy bent beneath the kitchen sink to take notice of young (name).

Blue eyes widened as he caught sight of her, baseball bat clutched in hand, and he threw himself backwards and away, slamming his body into the ovens door. Instinctively, his arms moved to guard his face and torso.

"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!" The loud exclamation startled the girl, and she jumped again, shoving against the refrigerator hard enough to make it rattle dangerously.

~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~

Fixing the plumbing turned out to be far more difficult than Daryl had originally assumed. The bits holding the stuff to the things was rusted on, making it difficult to loosen the thingy mabob and clear anything clogging the that thing.

Putting all of his focus into wrenching the bits away from the stuff, Daryl completely failed to notice the other presence in the room with him, and when the phone in the other room shocked him out if his thoughts, he found his mind immediately assuming it was his father standing there with a weapon in hand.

As his back hit the oven and his arms moved to guard his head, he caught full sight of the person, and quickly came to realize his mistake. His heart beat harshly against his ribs, and he couldn't help but exclaim his dislike for the situation.

"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!"

At his shout, the girl flinched away from him so harshly that he thought the refrigerator was going to come crashing down on top of him, and he immediately felt guilty, for some odd reason.

She looked absolutely terrified. (Eye color) eyes big as saucers, glazed with fear and glossy with tears, shaking hands gripped the metal of the baseball bat so hard her skin turned white, and her entire body was shaking like a leaf. Her eyes never left his form as he slowly stood up from the ground, one hand still held out in front of him, whether to ward off an attack, or to show he meant no harm, neither really knew. The girl was down right terrified of him, and he hadn't so much as said a word to deserve it yet.

This had to be the niece the Sheriff was talking about, he decided. The scared look she was giving him as she slowly backed away from him made him feel downright awful, and he knew he needed to do something to show her he meant no harm. So, remembering her uncles words, Daryl worked to make his voice a bit less gruff than usual, and tried to keep the edge out of his tone.

"Uh-uh, I ain't here ta hurtcha, girlie–" she took another quick step back "–I'm a friend of Bill's. I was jus' comin' in ta get a drink, I ain't here ta hurtcha."

There was far more that could be said, he knew, but words never really were his forté, and he wasn't sure how much he could talk before he made her more uncomfortable. However, the little bit that he had said, mostly naming her uncle, he thought, had made her shoulders un-hunch a bit, though she kept her distrusting posture. Smart girl.

Slowly lowering the bat until it pointed at his chest she grabbed it with both hands and hesitantly backed out of the kitchen, beckoning him to follow her. Keeping him safely at the end of the bat, and moved to pick up the still-ringing phone and gingerly press it to her ear, her eyes never leaving him, and the bat never wavering (though it did shiver along with her tremors.)

Her eyes relaxed a bit more at the voice on the other end of the line, and though Daryl couldn't much hear the words that were being said—aside from the mumbled tone—he could still tell it was the sheriffs deep voice that spoke.

"Yeah? Uh-hm, good, I uh, I guess... I did. Of course," as she spoke to the formless voice, Daryl couldn't help the small spike of fear that ran up his spine. What if the Sheriff didn't want him there now that he'd scared the girl? He had warned him, he thought. What if Bill made him go back to his shit-hole house and wouldn't let him come back again? This place was one of the few he had to escape that hell, he didn't want to lose that. What if the officer freaked and called Daryl's dad to come pick him up? He'd have hell to pay if he let that happen. He was sure he'd end up with a few more scars at least if his dad were to find out that someone knew of what went on behind closed doors. The Sheriff, no less. What if he–

His spiraling thoughts were disrupted when he caught the sound of his name coming from the other end of the phone line and immediately tuned back in.

"Uhm, uh, yeah, I–I guess. I mean, yeah, yes, he's still here... Oh, no, he's, uh, he's been nice enough," was she even still talking about the red-necked youth? "Yes, of course it's okay, uncle Bill. Sure-sure thing, yeah, that's okay with me. I was thinking about making meatloaf tonight, anyway, that usually makes enough for more than just you an' me."

Wait, what?

The girl had lowered the weapon, though she still kept a tight grip in it, and gave him a shy, almost apologetic smile, before finally letting her eyes dart away. Daryl stayed frozen in his spot. What was even happening?

"–oh," she suddenly looked dejected at whatever had been said on the other side. Scared, almost. "Yeah, no, no, that's-that's okay, uncle Bill, sure thing. It's okay, promise," she suddenly donned a small smile, and though he knew imediately that it was fake, he still found himself startlingly light-of-breath at the sight.

"Yeah, of course, see you tomorrow, uncle, stay safe." Tomorrow? What? Why was all this so confusing to the youngest Dixon? Why was the disappearance of her smile making him feel so hollow?

The sudden change in the expression that the smaller figure wore was dramatically startling to Daryl. Going from sad and scared and sorry and a bit regretful to blushing and wincing and all together uncomfortable in the blink of an eye, the girl shriekingly exclaimed:

"Uncle Bill! No! Ew, gross! Don–Don't say things like that, ya nasty!" Daryl couldn't help but find her blush and stutter quite endearing.

Even from the few paces away that he was, he could still hear the loud laugh that erupted from the other side of the phone.

"Alrigh–alright, uncle Bill," the girls face was still flushed intensely, "I'm hanging up on you now... Yeah, yes, okay—thanks for that." She winced again at whatever he'd said, and she somehow flushed even harder. In a softer voice, now, "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Stay safe." Her last words were barely a whisper.

Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear, the girl placed it gently on the receiver before turning to glance at Daryl, though he took note that she never once fully looked at him again.

"I'm, uhm, I'm sorry," she whispered, grimacing softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~×•×~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#young!daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #pre apocalypse daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader fluff #daryl dixon x reader angst #daryl dixon x reader hurt/comfort #daryl dixon x female reader #softly barely a whisper

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