#anyway if i’m happy about anything from this chapter other than the reveal

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

[seuonji]

彡 the lyrics — choi seungcheol

—in which fans find out yn’s lyrics are about someone they know. not even her fellow members knew this but anyways, now their concern is, who’s the lyrics about?

part 1 ๑ part 2 ๑ part 3 ๑ part 4 ๑ part 5

song inspo— cheetah by deux visages

genre ๑ fluff & crack

notes ๑ band au! short smau. written chapter + some social media captures + a fun fact at the end!!

word count ๑ 1k

you came back from the washroom, swinging your hands to dry them, “wanna watch a movie or play a game?” you asked.

seungcheol was seated on your desk chair, still on his phone. if you peeked over you’d be able to see him typing gibberish in his chat with jeonghan and joshua. in his head, he thought of 30 different ways he could run away from this situation, but he knew if he left your place tonight without doing anything right now, he’d regret it.

“cheol?” you sat on your bed just across him.

“huh sorry?” he closed his phone.

“what do you wanna do?”

cheol knew what he wanted to say but also he didn’t.

but it suddenly spilled out.

“the lyrics,” he looked directly at you.

your heart dropped, “what about it?”

“who are they about? we were talking about it earlier but you never answered properly,” he recalled. you’ve never heard him speak with so much uncertainty before.

he saw the look of hesitation you had on your face. “what bad will it do if you reveal it,” he laughed softly trying to fill the silence.

it could go very bad. it could cost you your band, your career but that’s not what the problem was. it was bad because it could cost you your friendship with the person you cared about the most.

but what could you do about it, the cat was practically out the bag at this point.

“you,” you stiffly blurted.

you’d think cheol’s heart would start racing from hearing that but it’s been racing since he came to your place.

he covered his mouth, hiding his reaction. it’s the same reaction he had when he read the ‘cheol’ written in your diary, not like you’d know. “the lyrics are about me?” he asked to make sure but on your side, the words felt like a huge slap on your face.

you nodded in response.

“even our last song?”

“all of them are about you.”

that’s all he needed to hear to regain his confidence. of course he wasn’t happy to know the last song was about him, however with knowing the many other songs that exist in your discography was also about him, it felt a little good.

he rushed into a hug with you. you two stayed like that until he spoke again. “so you liked me?” he asked, still hugging you.

you didn’t answer so he parted from the hug. he kneeled on the floor and faced you, cupping your hands in his, “sorry that was a bold question.”

you were frozen still but his words thawed you,

“i’ll be honest, i like you, i like you so much, i like you right now and i’m sorry i never made that clear. after listening to the lyrics of our latest song, it feels like i’ve blown my chances with you.”

you finally looked at him in the eyes. “blown your chances?” you repeated confused.

“oh, do i still have a chance? does that means you still like me?”

cheol took note of the way you were quieter than usual. he gets it, it’s a hard topic to talk about but he wanted to get the ball rolling. he felt, there was a chance for you two. he saw something in your eyes, something that said you weren’t ready to let go of what could be and he felt the same way.

“damn, you can admit the songs are about me but you can’t admit you like me?“ he joked.

you chuckled softly, “some things are easier said in other forms.”

he smiled at your indirect confession but he still had more he wanted to understand. “well that last song you wrote sounds like you were getting tired of the person. as much as i love the song, how did you wind up writing those lyrics?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“i don’t know, you never made a move or showed any interest. but looking at it now, it’s my fault, i took it too quickly as a rejection.”

he placed his forehead on your hands, “it’s not your fault, we both were running away from what was just right in front of us.”

“yea,” you whispered quietly, agreeing with what he said.

his head was still rested on you and he continued, “i don’t know if you still like me, especially not after our last song but if ever you have even the slightest bit of feelings left or even none! i want to give you my all.”

you felt so weak and overwhelmed from all that was happening. for you, it was going too fast but something told you, it all might turn out okay.

you placed your head on his, “first, let me recover from all the heartburn.”

his head perked up, “huh?”

“i still like you but you dropped a bomb on me. let me recover,” you sat on the floor with him, still having your hands in his.

“you’ve been dropping bombs on me since 2 years ago!?” he squeezed your hands, implying the lyrics were the bombs.

“that is such an invalid comeback, also, 2 years and you only noticed now! honestly you didn’t even notice, you had to find out from our fans that the lyrics were about you!” you squeezed back.

“you daydream alot the lyrics couldve been those fake scenarios you make in your head,” he said moving his face closer to yours.

that line sounded too familiar.

“have you discussed this who my lyrics were about with jeonghan and joshua?”

“no. why? should i?”

“no.” you firmly said.

he just nodded and didn’t question it. regardless, he was too fulfilled with the current situation.

there was a long pause until cheol broke the silence.

“so after you recover, we can date?” he asked, tilting his head.

“yea sure.”

“also you have to tell me your thought process of all the lyrics you’ve written.”

you grunted at the request and laid on his lap, “don’t push your luck, if you can’t understand the songs that means you don’t pay enough attention when we’re together.” he scoffed and laughed, “you use hidden meanings and metaphors, it is not my fault if i can’t understand them!”

+

๑ cheol has asked you the meanings of your lyrics before but when he felt like the lyrics were starting to seem like they were about jeonghan, he stopped asking.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Answer My Call Chapter 3 part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! Answer My Call won by all one one vote last week. I was a bit nervous since I'm starting a new POV and I wasn't sure if I wanted to write from Tucker's POV or Tim's, but I settled on Tucker because it would let me dive into the action a bit sooner.

Story Summary: Danny's missing. The GIW have taken over Amity. Jazz, Tucker, and Sam are under constant surveillance and have been scattered across the country.

When Jazz's messages to Danny go to the wrong number, Red Hood decides to step in.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.6k

-----

Tucker was alone in his dorm room working on homework. His desk was in the corner in a way that meant his computer screen faced the wall. It meant he had barely three feet of space to sit in, but after everything that had happened, he couldn’t let anyone sneak up behind him to spy on his work.

His roommate hated him for it because it took up so much extra space in their small room, but he was never around anyway, so Tucker didn’t really care what he thought.

He jumped when a loud knocking sounded on his door.

“Coming!” he called out as he took the time to save everything he had open and close all programs. He slammed it shut and squeezed out of his chair, half running to the door. “Sorry ‘bout the wait. Tyler isn’t here right now, I think he said something about spending time with Liz?”

Then he actually looked at the people at his door. The one was a broad boy wearing a spiked leather jacket over jeans. The other had a bulky sweatshirt on and a baseball cap. His face was shadowed as he was looking down at a tablet, typing away.

The bigger one was grinning at him. “You’re Tucker, right? We’re here to see you, not Tyler.”

Tucker blinked at them. “Why?” he asked, confused. People had given up on being friendly with him weeks ago.

The boy with the tablet huffed. “We’re here to invite you to our club.”

Tucker looked between them in confusion. “What?”

Tablet guy still didn’t look up. “We heard you like ghosts. We’re the officers of the student horror club and wanted to offer you a spot. Mind letting us in so we can tell you about it?”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not interested in joining any clubs right now. Thanks, but no thanks.” He went to shut the door, but leather jacket stuck out his foot, keeping it from shutting.

“Just hear us out. We think you’d be perfect for it as an expert on ghosts.”

Tucker clenched his fists to hide their shaking. What did they know? Who sent them? He glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tablet boy raised his head slightly, revealing a domino mask covering his eyes. He grinned, more a baring of teeth than anything. In a tone just loud enough to be heard, he said, “One of my associates is currently in Boston. I decided to come here instead.” In a normal ton he added, “Let me tell you about the horror club.”

Tucker’s mouth fell open. How? Boston? What had Jazz done? His eyes flitted down the hallway. But they were blocking his path and he wouldn’t be able to get past them. Dumbly, he stepped back, opening the door further.

Leather jacket grinned at him. “Thanks, dude,” he said.

Behind them, Tucker shut the door. His hand fell to his pocket where a lipstick laser was hidden.

Tablet boy was already pulling the blinds down over the window. When done, he handed his tablet to Tucker. It was open to a message that said: “We’re on your side. Turn off your devices. I’m going to set off a EMP and signal jammer.”

Tucker nodded and handed the tablet back.

Leather Jacket cleared his throat. “So, with the horror club, we meet once a week…”

Tucker only half-listened to his spiel. He used his phone to send a coded warning to Dani before turning it off. Then he went through his belongings and did the same to every laptop, PDA, tablet, and gaming system. If he turned on a ghostly recording device hidden inside an action figure, however, no one would know.

As soon as he was done, he nodded to Tablet Guy who pulled out a black cube from his backpack and pressed a button. The he pulled out another device and turned that on as well.

“That’s enough, Kon,” he said, pulling off his cap.

Leather Jacket—Kon?—grinned. “What, you don’t want to hear about my favorite horror movie, Rob?”

“I introduced you to your favorite horror movie. I know it as well as you do.”

Kon just laughed. Then he unzipped his jacket, revealing a blue outfit with Superman’s “S” on it.

“Holy shit,” breathed Tucker. What had Jazz done?

Tablet guy followed, pulling off his cap and removing his hoodie, revealing a red costume with a gold bird medallion in the center of his chest. “Nice to meet you, Tucker. I’m Red Robin, and this is Superboy. I’ve got some questions for you.”

Tucker’s eyes jumped between the two. “Holy shit,” he repeated.

Superboy laughed. “Didn’t expect to see us?”

Tucker could only shake his head. “You said Boston?” he asked.

“Red Hood is with Jazz as we speak. She asked for our help in rescuing Danny. We agreed.”

Tucker tensed. He was lying. They’d talked about reaching out to the Justice League dozens of times, but had decided they couldn’t be trusted. Jazz wouldn’t have gone to them. He reached into his pocked and pulled out the lipstick.

Both heroes tensed, though their wariness turned to confusion when they saw he only had a small lipstick tube.

Good, let them underestimate him. “Jazz wouldn’t go to the Justice League. We agreed it wasn’t safe. Why are you really here?”

Red Robin grinned at him and held up his hands. “All right, you’re right. I simplified for time’s sake. Jazz has been sending messages to a phone number she thought belonged to her brother Danny. But really, they were going to Red Hood. He’d been getting them for ages now, but was…out of town. As soon as he got back, he began looking into Amity and the GIW. When he couldn’t find anything, he brought me in on the case. When that still didn’t work, we called Jazz back. She decided to take a chance on us since Red Hood doesn’t work with the government. And, honestly, I’ve done quite a bit outside the law, too, even if I’m not as public about it.”

Tucker’s grip on the lipstick tightened and he stuck his nail under the cap, ready to flick it off at a moment’s notice. “Prove it.”

Red Robin pulled up his tablet again and tapped a few places. An audio recording started to play.

Tucker stopped breathing when he recognized Jazz’s voice. He closed his eyes and just listened. When he heard her demand a picture and the pose she asked for, he huffed out a laugh.

The recording ended and he slid the lipstick back into his pocket and wiped at his eyes.

“Okay, I believe you. What’s the plan?”

“Right now we want to make sure you, Jazz, and Sam are safe and find out as much information as we can.”

Tucker nodded. “I’m not as closely watched as Jazz. The school keeps close track of us students and the Guys in White rely on their records. Though they do have an agent stationed in admin who checks up on me at least once a week. I don’t keep my most sensitive belongings in this dorm as it’s searched every other week.”

Red Robin grinned at him. It sent shivers down Tucker’s back. “Does that mean your real stuff is kept somewhere else?”

Tucker smirked. “Of course. Cover yourselves back up; we need to go.”

Red Robin did something with his jammer and EMP and then began talking excitedly about the horror club again. “So glad you’ve agreed to come to our next meeting, Tucker! We’ve been trying to build the club.”

Superboy winked at him. “What do you say we get to know each other a bit before then? Want to come play video games with us?”

Tucker bit his lip and looked towards his desk and laptop as if he were undecided. “I should get back to my homework…”

“Oh, come on, it’ll still be there tomorrow,” said Red Robin. “Let’s go.” He looked back down at his tablet and headed towards the door, grabbing Tucker’s hand as he did.

Tucker looked over his shoulder one last time, but let himself be pulled along. They kept conversation light as they exited the building. Red Robin was an expert at angling his baseball cap to hide his masked face from every camera they passed.

Would he be willing to teach Tucker how to do that?

Once outside, Tucker took the lead. One of the first things he’d done after he’d been enrolled was memorize blueprints for every building on campus. On top of that, he’d made himself a good dozen different IDs. Three of those were copies of other students’. Those students he kept close track of to make sure their records didn’t show them in two places at once. Other ones belonged to various faculty and staff members. But his pride and joy was the one that belonged to Gabriel Carter. Gabriel was a janitor at the Academy and so could access any building. Gabriel also didn’t exist.

It was Gabriel’s ID that got them access to the basement level of one of the buildings. Hidden deep in the building was a set of rooms currently not in use. And in one of those rooms was a closet.

Tucker had built the locks on the door himself and, even having all the keys and codes, it took five minutes to get in.

He smirked when Red Robin himself let out a gasp of surprise at his set up.

-----

Hope you enjoyed!

Now, how did Kon get involved? Easy. Tim used the zeta tube from the cave to Titans Tower. Kon happened to be there. When Tim said he was working a case with Red Hood, the guy who tried to kill him once, Kon insisted on coming along. I debated having other members of the Young Justice, but I'm actually trying to keep character counts down for this one, so...

Check out the subscription post if you want a notification when I update!

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 12

chapter 22:

1. 😟😟 all james wants is for sirius to be there for james the way james ALWAYS was for sirius

2. 😟 james wished hodge happy birthday even though hodge died yesterday. i- i am not okay

3. “Regulus never fails to look up. Evan would be proud of him for that, he thinks.” 😧 that was vile to put in there

4. james has resorted to BEGGING for medicine from sirius and can’t understand why sirius won’t send any. this hurts so bad

5. nope. i’m done. i can’t read any more. james started looking forward to death cause he would be out of this arena and out of pain. jfc i’m done

6. anyways. i’m back cause i couldn’t stop reading.

7. REGULUS AND JAMES ARE REUNITED!!! THANK GOD!!! 😊

8. 😧 wait nevermind. james just mistook regulus for sirius. “James has never, not once in his life under any circumstances, mistaken Regulus for Sirius”

9. james is delulu from medicine and reg just found out that the plan has always been to get reg home. this hits like a motherfucking truck

10. james is high as a fucking kite, can’t figure out why “sirius” is being mean to him, cause he’s never been mean to him. and is also wondering why “sirius” is oddly attractive for being mean

11. it takes james half a chapter, and reg cutting his shirt for james to realize it’s not sirius. cause sirius has different scars. i love james sm 😭😭

12. “What was Sirius thinking? Drugging James? In the middle of the fucking hunger games? That might be the most idiotic thing Regulus has ever known his brother to do, and this is Sirius he's talking about, so that's saying a lot. Sirius once flipped a cigarette in the air and tried to catch it with his mouth while it was lit, and kept doing it until he could actually consistently manage it, no matter how much it burned him. Though, in fairness, he can still do that trick to this day.”

LMAO WHAT??? that’s so random and i love it

13. 😧 legit sobbing. reg says that james lost the spark in his eyes. and he’s the one person he expected to never lose his spark

14. reg reveals that they both can go home. james’ spark is back. i’m sobbing harder now. they’re so in love

15. i eat, breathe, and dream those author end notes. bizzarestars writes their end notes the way my brain processes the fic. <33

chapter 23:

1. starting the chapter off with pain, i see. losing vanity changed james. like. horribly changed him.

2. “What Regulus hates more than James is his suffering.” jfc he’s so emotionally constipated

3. james is sad and all reg can think is hmmmm i want him to start flirting with me again, because it meant he was happy bitch wtf

4. awww they’re cuddling and just got a package! my babies are gonna make it out!

5. reg realizes he has to put on a show, so he offers to feed james. and wants to gouge his eyeballs out for offering that. 😭😭😭😭

6. i’m dying from embarrassment but this is also so fucking funny. reg is like. let’s talk about our feelings. for each other. and james is just like *head tilt* ???

7. “"You weren't my first crush, James," Regulus whispers. "You were my first love."”

james didn’t just make reg feel good, he made reg feel and i am NOT okay.

8. “This whole time, Regulus has been steady on the fact that he wouldn't kiss James to save his own life, but he's apparently willing to do it to save James'.”

JFC why is he so emotionally constipated???

9. THEY KISS????? james is gonna be heartbroken when he realizes it was all an act

10. oh thank god james realized. at least it broke his heart now and not in two weeks

11. *squints* now reg has never wanted anything more than this kiss. girl. please. realize.

12. god, i’ve never read a kiss more beautifully and emotionally desperate written.

13. 😏 reg called him baby again!

14. oh god, maybe i’m just as bad as everyone in the hallow. maybe i’m just as bad as them. cause i enjoy their romance. i enjoy it so much. maybe i’m just as bad as the hallow for that. i- i think this every time i read the hunger games.

15. “James wants to sink his teeth into Regulus and leave the deep imprints of his teeth from one jutting hip bone to the other.��� sometimes i forget that jegulus is a little unhinged in ways like this. and every time i’m reminded, I LOVE IT

16. “"You treat me like I'm stupid for daring to see good in people, but if there's no good in anyone, then what's the fucking point?"”

this entire section. this. this is what james is all about

17. 😟 authors note just told me i’m no better than a hallow. for my excitement over jegulus. and- yeah. i guess so. i’m so sorry y’all

[theteasetwrites]

The Wrinkle

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 9/10 Interim (The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning series) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: very vaguely sexual if you squint (just some kissing and a butt grab) ❧ Word Count: 1.3k

❧ Summary: Aging is a natural part of life, but when you notice a wrinkle, it's hard not to be a little sad. Your husband, however, reminds you that you're still just as beautiful, and so is your wrinkle.

❧ A/N: Another oneshot that takes place in the same universe as my series because I am procrastinating writing the last chapters 😀 (but tbh this fic also works as a standalone piece because I didn't really reference anything that happens in the series). I just want to keep writing for them forever, you know? Anywho, I was inspired by all the anti-aging talk on social media I've been seeing lately. People have always been obsessed with looking young, and skincare companies often profit off that insecurity, which is something I've been thinking about a lot. I haven't seen anything where the Reader is a little insecure about her aging, so why not write a comfort fic about that? Aging is beautiful, btw. 💕

Honey, olive oil, aloe, oats…

You’d tried everything, every natural ingredient you could get your hands on. Every moisturizer you made seemed to work on some level—your skin was always soft, at least. The dryness was quenched, and, most importantly, you were happy with your face, for perhaps the first time in your life. 

Happy, until one night, you saw it. 

“Oh, God,” you gasped, leaning over the bathroom sink as you rubbed in your moisturizer just the same way you did every night. Tonight, though, was different. By the light of the lantern you’d placed on the shelf beneath the mirror, you saw the smallest sliver of a… You couldn’t even bear to think of the word. 

It was a line, near the outer corner of your eye. It curved downwards slightly, representing the movement of your cheek when you smiled. Only now, you weren’t smiling. You were frowning in disappointment at the image in the mirror. How could you be getting crow’s feet at this age? You were still young, weren’t you? Aren’t I? 

“Everythin’ okay in there?” Daryl’s voice called out from the bedroom, just beyond the door. “Been in there a while, hon.”

“Fine.” Not fine. “Just moisturizing.” Lots of good it does.

“Well, hurry up, woman,” he teased. “I gotta take a piss.”

You scoffed, turning the copper knob of the door with a slippery, oily hand. “Come in,” you sighed. “I’m almost done anyway.” You turned back to face the mirror, dabbing another few fingertips worth of moisturizing cream. 

He shook his head as he watched you meticulously massaging the concoction until it was completely absorbed by your skin. It was always a fascinating sight. He never understood it completely, but just as you allowed him to engage in his interests, he allowed you yours. Still, he couldn’t help but think sometimes you cared too much about looking pretty, when to him, you didn’t need to put any effort in at all. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, placing a rather drawn out kiss upon your shoulder, where the skin was exposed by your thin strapped nightie. His hand rubbed your other shoulder, taking his opportunity to feel how naturally soft you were, even without moisturizer. 

You offered a reluctant smile as you looked back at him in the mirror. “Thank you… I don’t feel like it.”

Now that baffled him. You’d never been very confident in yourself, he knew that. You were alike in that way. It was tiresome for him, though. He knew your beauty better than anyone, and for you to not see it was heartbreaking. Then again, you felt the same way when he refused to accept his beauty. You were both much too humble for your own good.

Still behind you, he swept back a handful of your hair, revealing the supple flesh of your neck. “Why not?” he asked, then gave himself the pleasure of tasting your neck with his gentle, slightly ticklish lips. That always made you feel better. Usually.

“I—I… just found a wrinkle.”

Detaching his lips, he looked up at you to furrow his brow. As he searched your face, each curve and line so familiar to him, he couldn’t see anything had changed. 

“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, girl?”

You reached over to turn up the flame in the lantern, brightening the small bathroom. “Look.” You pointed to the spot just at the corner of your eye. “A little wrinkle, right by my eye.”

Squinting didn’t help. He leaned forward, still trying to see what the hell you were so worried about. Finally, he pinpointed the vague, shallow line, almost more like a little shadow that stood on its own. It was hardly anything to him.

“Pfft,” he scoffed. “That ain’t a wrinkle.” He ran his hand through the hair on his scalp to pull back his bangs, putting his face completely on display for you. “You wanna see wrinkles? Looky here.”

Only Daryl could make you snort when you felt like feeling sorry for yourself. “Stop,” you laughed. “You hardly have any wrinkles. Besides, you’re older than me anyway. I’m only thirty-two.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And you got no damn wrinkles. Even if ya did, you’d still be a stone cold fox, so just believe me when I say you’re the most beautiful damn woman in the world, okay?” 

Though you were sure you’d never believe that, it did feel terribly good to know Daryl still found you attractive. It was ingrained in you to want, to need, approval from men, and it took you a long time to get out of that mindset. Hell, it was still there to an extent, but Daryl was the only man whose approval you cared about now, only because you knew he’d never break your heart or take advantage of that trust you put in him.

“Daryl,” you laughed, your cheeks filled with a hot blush at his words. “Thank you, but—”

When his hands cupped your cheeks, his gaze softened, as if to make sure you knew what he was doing. Of course, you did. He kissed you, his lips enjoying the taste of your natural moisturizer. A small whimper from you melted into his mouth like candy on his tongue, while your arms tangled loosely around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer to you. 

You always loved the feeling of his warm, strong hands upon your hips, gently squeezing the soft flesh there. He’d often lower his right hand, using it to squeeze your bottom, always making you squeak softly against his lips. 

“Oh!” you laughed. He was so predictable. “Stop it!” You playfully slapped at his bare chest, with little to no strength in your flimsy hands. Because he knew you weren’t serious, he squeezed a little more, causing you to stand on your tippy toes and gasp a little more. If anyone could distract you from your little insecurities, it was Daryl. 

His lips poked at every little spot of skin on your face, which was scrunched up in faux annoyance. Your laugh, and your wide, toothy grin, were proof enough that his wild, impromptu kisses and less than innocent bottom-squeezes were working like a charm. 

“What am I gonna do with you, angel?” he asked, his lips becoming tired and his mouth beginning to downturn in a sudden expression of seriousness. His weather-worn fingers lifted your hair from your face, pinning it back behind your ears. There was an unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Only you knew the extent of his sensitivity, his ability to feel what you felt. When you told him that you don’t feel beautiful, it killed him. “What do I gotta do to make ya see how perfect you are?”

You sighed as you watched your own hands absentmindedly rub his broad shoulders, the smattering of freckles all over them always a comfort to you. Many nights you’d lay in his arms, just counting them as his low, gravelly voice lulled you into a deep, warm sleep. 

“Just hold me,” you said. “That makes me feel beautiful, being close to you.”

That smile of his always melted you, had you like putty in his hands. It was small and a little lopsided, and you could only see a sliver of his wide, slightly jagged teeth, but it was like your life force. Seeing him smile, seeing him happy, for just one minute, meant everything to you. Of all people you’d ever met, he deserved, more than anyone, to be happy. That was your job. 

“All right, pretty girl.” He pulled you close once again to press a small kiss to your forehead. “I’ll hold ya.” Just like he did every night. Still, you could never get enough of it.

“But first,” he added, letting go of you, “I gotta take a piss.”

He was always so romantic.

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

[greenerteacups]

Hey GTC, I have always been such a fan of your Tumblr and your engagement with the fandom. However I must say that as of late, the questions you’re being asked most often are essentially variants of “Will X happen?” or “Will Y character do Z like in the book?” or even, “I’m noticing Theme A, will it continue in future chapters?”

A significant element of the fun that you’ve created for Lionheart readers is that we don’t know which elements and events of the JKR texts you’ll preserve untouched and which you’ll turn into the sixth and seventh year Lionheart storylines. I adore making my guesses to which parts of canon you’ll play with and which parts you’ll completely and utterly upend. Unfortunately, questions that ask about canon events in books 5-7 ruin so much of the fun.

Historically, you’ve used the Ask box to provide us with analyses of your own work and characterizations, but I feel as if recently you are often indulging questions about books 5, 6, and 7. I hate to say it, but I even feel that your answers veer into spoiler territory. I used to lurk your Tumblr incessantly, but since I’ve started to see this influx in predictive questions these past couple weeks, I’ve been avoiding the app.

It’s such a gift that we get to engage with your work on such a vibrant epistolary and interactive space as your Tumblr. I know that you can’t control what fans ask, but I humbly request that you please consider refusing to answer questions that ask you to ponder future events. Thank you for your tender care to everyone in the fandom. ❤️‍🔥🦁🧡

Hey, what's up, dude. I hear you. Sorry about that.

The problem is that the line between spoilers and not spoilers is totally subjective, and the line between "spoilers that are fine" and "spoilers that bother me" is also totally subjective. I don't know where you are on it, but we probably don't line up, and that's okay. I just don't know how I'd begin to sort out questions that one person considers "too much" from what someone else just thinks is fun analysis. My hard rules are as follows: I don't answer any questions about future ships, events, or arcs (and I get a lot). I haven't revealed anything that I would be unhappy to discover in a Tumblr askbox instead of a fic itself. True, I've dropped teaser/trailer stuff for 6 and 7, but to be honest, even looking over the stuff I've posted recently — I hate to say it, but I disagree with you. It isn't spoilers. Not to me, anyway.

But that's just me! There's no right or wrong answer here, it's just a coordination problem of how we can both cultivate social media experiences that make us happy. For instance: I like answering questions about my fic. It makes me happy to talk to people who want to know what happens. It encourages me and gets me excited to write about it, and I don't believe that any of the content on my Tumblr spoils what's going to happen. I don't really want to stop doing that, so I'm not going to. If that means you and other readers whose spoiler thresholds are below mine can't engage with my Tumblr, that's a natural consequence of us having different attitudes about media, and it was bound to happen. I'm sorry that that's the case, but it would bring me much more grief for you to injure your reading experience than it would for you to avoid my (largely irrelevant) e-journal full of random metatext. I love my fic, and I love my readers, you most certainly included; I do not, candidly speaking, love my Tumblr account. And for what it's worth, I absolutely do not think anything I've written on here is worth diminishing your experience of a story you enjoy. It wouldn't jive with my philosophy of literature and art.

So here's what I got: I'll continue tagging spoilers about past and current events as [#lionheart spoilers], and if a question makes reference to events not published, I'll use the tag [#prognosticating]. That way you can block the tag, and other readers can enjoy content that fits under their threshold of non-spoilerism. If our thresholds still don't line up, then I think the only solution may really be to block the [#lionheart spoilers] tag altogether. That's probably not the answer you're looking for, but it's the best I can do.

[messedupfan]

Benefits of Car Troubles | 7

Summary: Y/n and Leigh go house hunting. The Shaws meet Y/n's father. And Leigh and Y/n decide to test run what it would be to live with each other

A/N: Heeeellloooo!! So, at this point I'm going to have to make a chapters page for this. UGGHH!! But anyway. Hope y'all enjoy. Also Imma do a poll for this story so be on the look out!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here is the master bedroom,” the real estate agent says as he leads you and Leigh through the house. It is much bigger than either of your current rooms. Even with it fully furnished. “I noticed that you are expecting so let me show you the nursery room that we have set up.” He draws the attention over to a room a little ways down the hall to show off the staged nursery. It's meant for a little girl which you and Leigh are almost positive that it's what she's carrying but the room makes you want to have a little girl someday. 

“This is so beautiful,” Leigh says with tears in her eyes as she imagines a smiling baby lying in the crib. She can see them having your eyes and her nose as they hold their little feet in the air and reach out to her with their tiny hands. She can't believe that image has the potential of being real. When Matt had told her his stance on children, she thought she would never get to experience her own children. She thought she was going to have to pretend to be a happy aunt when it happened for others. She hopes whoever he's with now doesn't want children. She hopes that he doesn't take that away from someone again. There are plenty of women that don't want to have kids, he told her in an argument once. Why are you making me out to be a villain? He'd asked when she posed the question why he waited until a year into their marriage to reveal this detail. I just want you! He had said when she told him that he could have been with anyone else. 

“Leigh,” you call softly as you wrap your body around her from behind. She melts against your chest. “What’s on your mind?” You lean down and rest your chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m just really grateful for you,” she says as she rubs your arms. You ask her why with a slight amusement, surprised about her sudden words of gratitude. “For making my dreams come true,” she admits as she leans back to catch your lips. The sweet kiss is interrupted by your phone going off to your ringtone for your father.  

“I’m sorry baby, I have to answer this,” you say as you pull away. “He probably just wants to make sure that we’re going to be there for dinner.” 

“Y/n, it’s okay to talk to your dad,” she says with a small laugh and you shake your head confused as to why you were so flustered about answering a phone call from your own father. 

“Right,” you say as you answer the call. While you walk off to talk to him privately, Leigh continues to walk around the home, imagining the two of you making it your own. At the other houses that the two of you toured throughout the week, they didn’t feel right. They were lovely homes but they didn’t feel like her home. However, this one she can see it all happening here. You chasing the kids down the hall just for fun. Her baking cookies from scratch with them in the kitchen. Catching the baby in her belly trying to sneak out of the house when he’s older and grounded. Having family movie nights in the living room. Playing board games on the dining table. She can see it all. 

“What do you think about the house?” The realtor startles her in the dining room and he apologizes. 

“It’s okay, I’m just lost in my head. I love it, but I’m going to discuss it with my partner before I say anything else,” she says, being cautious of the agent's sales tactics. He nods once and starts to give the age old speech of how it’s a popular house and that there are many offers already placed on it and Leigh nods along pretending to be concerned. She has done her research on each property and this one has been on the market for five years and has gone down in prices in the last couple of years. Standing in it she can’t imagine why it hasn’t sold, there wasn’t anything wrong with it that she could see and to her knowledge no one was murdered in it. 

You find Leigh when you’ve hung up and you listen to the real estate agent’s pitch as well. “I’ll keep that in mind and be in touch with you soon. But we have to go,” you take Leigh’s hand, “My dad wants us there a bit early for dinner. It was a pleasure to meet you and hopefully we’ll see you again soon.” You drop her off at her house to get ready so that you can grab something nice for yourself from your place. Then you return to her house to pick up Leigh and her family. Jules is coming along and you worry about what her behavior might be through the night as you warned your dad about her current condition. He swore to have all of his liquor locked up and you trust that he would but you worry that Jules might lose it without having a beverage or two. 

Arriving at your dad’s house, everyone is impressed with the size of the home and you feel a little embarrassed. “This is where you grew up?” Jules rolls down her widow to stick her head out. 

“No, I never live here. My dad got this a few years ago. The house I grew up in is closer to where I live now,” you explain as you find a spot in the large driveway to park. You look over at Leigh whose eyes are wide with fear. “You okay?” You ask as you take her hand in yours and begin to rub your thumb into her palm. 

“He is going to think I did this for money,” Leigh states. You shake your head as you try to tell her that’s not true. “How much does he know?” She looks at you alarmed. You had told her that you told your dad a version of how the two of you got together to make her feel better about meeting him. But that wasn’t true. 

You sigh as you admit, “I told him everything. Trust me, this isn’t going to go bad. He isn’t judgemental. He just wants to be included in this family.” 

Leigh nods as she starts to calm herself down. “Okay,” she says, “Okay, let's go before I lose it.” She spins in her seat to face her mom and sister, “The both of you better be on your best behavior.” 

Amy takes her daughter's hand and reassures her that everything is going to be okay. Leigh is nervous the entire walk to the door and you do your best to calm her but with the added hormonal imbalance that comes with pregnancy, it’s not an easy task. Your father greets everyone at the door with warm hugs as he invites them in. You compliment the house that you’ve only been to a handful of times since he purchased it. 

He offers to do a tour as dinner is being prepared and as you’re about to reject the offer, Leigh accepts and stays close to your father. She doesn’t know how she is going to get this man to see her as someone that loves you for you but she is certainly going to try her best. 

As your father shows everyone around the house he is certain to mention that it’s a house meant for family and that he hosts great holiday parties for all of the major holidays and that the Shaw family is welcome to join. “If you don’t mind my asking and please excuse my phrasing but do you have a father that you are in touch with?” Your dad asks Leigh who is continuously surprised by the man's politeness. As soon as she saw the house she was preparing herself for a narcissistic, judgmental, snob. But your father has so far presented himself as the exact opposite. 

“Yeah, I do,” Leigh says, “He’s been a great support in this, I can’t believe I completely forgot to invite him to this.” 

“It’s no worries, another time,” your father says with a smile. “He and whoever is important to him are welcomed here as well. My child isn’t always good at including people in their lives,” he leans close, “he gets that from his mother. But I am happy to extend the invitation.” 

You try not to think about the comment about your mother too much. You haven’t seen her since you were twelve years old. But even before that it was still just you and your dad. You haven't opened up about your mom to Leigh yet. She gives you a look of concern and you shrug it off as the tour continues. After seeing every room and amenity in the home your father is informed that dinner is ready and he ends the tour in the extravagant dining room. This house could fit the one you viewed today about fifty times and there’d still be room. You never understood the need to have a house so big. Especially for one person. 

“Oh my,” Leigh’s mouth waters at the meals displayed on the table. 

“I know how bad pregnancy can be sometimes, Y/n’s mother could hardly enjoy anything when she was pregnant so I asked Y/n about all of your trigger foods and all of your cravings. I hope they’ve been paying attention because if you have to run out of here, I’m not above grounding them,” your father jokes to Leigh.

She is shaking her head with tears in her eyes, “No, it’s perfect.” Everyone sits down to enjoy the meal together. Your father shares stories about memories the two of you shared together and Amy does the same for Leigh. Jules keeps quiet because all she can think about is embarrassing moments and how bad she wants a drink. The night goes well and when it’s over, Leigh is being sent home with more leftovers than she knows what to do with. Your dad gets the Shaw girls to promise to visit and Amy offers to host him next weekend. He enthusiastically accepts the invitation.  

On the way to the Shaw residence Amy and Leigh are asking about what meals your father likes and you assure them that you will handle the meal for them. “So why didn't you tell us that you were rich?” Jules asks. 

You laugh, “Your sister thought it was a pick up line so I didn't correct her.” Leigh rolls her eyes and tells Jules that it's not true over her shoulder. “Nah, I'm kidding. It's really not my money. It's my dad's. I don't make or have nearly as much money as he does.” You explain. “But, I do well for myself. Leigh and the baby will be taken care of,” you hold Leigh's hand in yours and she leans over and kisses you on the cheek. 

“What did you think about the house we saw today?” Leigh asks as she folds a shirt that she puts in a suitcase. She wants to trial run living together without her family around and without all of the comforts that she is used to. 

“I loved it, I think we should put in an offer,” you say as you set your phone down to give her your full attention. “It was weird, I could really see us living there,” you admit. “And it's more bedrooms than we need right now so you know what that means,” you wink at her as you bite your lip. 

Leigh shakes her head with a laugh, “Slow down. Let’s see how we are with one kid first.” You agree with her and continue to watch her pack her things. “I really liked it too by the way.” You hum in question of what she is talking about. “The house. I think we should put in an offer. Well, you should. I don’t think I can yet because Matt is dragging this divorce out.” 

“Does he know about everything?” You ask slowly just in case the question upsets her. 

“Yeah, unfortunately Estelle told him everything and so he has this lawyer trying to screw me over in the divorce,” she says with a frown. 

“If you need a better lawyer, Teddy’s brother is a pretty great one,” you suggest. 

“Teddy has a brother?” Leigh says surprised. 

You nod, “She has two brothers and a sister, all of them are a lot older than her so she wasn’t close with them when she was younger.” 

“Wow, I don’t know why but I didn’t picture her as someone with siblings,” Leigh says, still shocked by the information. “But no, I wouldn’t feel right asking for favors from a girl I’ve barely met.” 

“Well she owes me and he owes me too so it wouldn’t be wrong for me to call in some favors. Besides, she’s kind of part of my family and correct me if I'm wrong but you and I are building a family together.” You wait to see if she will correct you but she doesn’t and you smile. “Come on, we can set up a lunch and I won’t ask until after you meet them,” you try to convince Leigh to let you help her. 

“Okay, I would like to get to know Teddy better,” Leigh says, feeling a little bit jealous that you are confident in calling some other woman your family, whereas it's still a question with her. Sometimes she wishes you'd just be more direct in what you wanted from her instead of tiptoeing around the subject. Sometimes she wishes that you would stop asking her for permission for everything. Sometimes she fantasies that you storm in one day, grab her by the waist, and claim her as yours. 

But no, you continue to play it safe. “Leigh,” you call her name, causing her to look in your direction. “Something on your mind?” 

She puts on a fake smile and shakes her head, “No, I'm just um… I'm just a little nervous about spending the week with you. It's a big step for us.”

You shrug a little confused by the statement and stand from the bed, “I think we've taken bigger steps.” You walk around the furniture and stand behind her, wrapping your arms around her middle.

Leigh snorts, “We didn't take that step, we were pushed into it.” 

You smile and kiss the back of her neck, “I think there was a little bit more involved in that.” 

Shivers race down Leigh's spine as she leans into your chest. “Not here,” she whispers as her body heats up from your touch. You continue to kiss her neck and lightly trail your fingers down her stomach and slowly bunch up her dress in order to slip your fingers in her underwear. Unfortunately, a knock on Leigh’s bedroom door has you jumping away from her. You quickly sit on the bed and cover your lap with one of her decorative pillows. Leigh takes a few breaths to cool down as she opens the door. “Jules, is everything okay?” She asks full of concern for her sister with tears coming down her face. You feel even more awkward now, but a little relieved that the tears have scared away the evidence of arousal. 

“Yeah,” she sniffs and wipes her face. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make everything about me but. Ugh, I don’t want you to have this baby,” her admission has you and Leigh looking at her with wide eyes. She is being a bit hysterical so you give her the benefit of the doubt. Plus the smell of alcohol is strong in her presence. Now neither of you has to wonder about a stash in her bedroom.

“Why’s that, Jules?” you ask with concern as you sit up more on the bed.

She shakes her head as she continues to cry. “No, I mean. I want you to have the baby. I just. I want to be sober when he or she or they get here. I don’t want to be like, like, like this!” She gestures to herself. You and Leigh are relieved to an extent. Jules wants help but you’re a little weary of the timing. You have offered her help many times before she came to your fathers home. Now she is ready for help? 

“Hey, hey,” Leigh holds her sister in her arms. “It’s okay, Jules. There’s still time to get you help. We’ll talk to mom and-” 

“No! I can’t put her through that again,” she says as she pulls out of Leigh’s arms. “She’s still paying off the last rehab. I can’t put her in more debt.” You sigh and rub your face. 

“Okay, we can look into some places,” Leigh promises. “Make some phone calls maybe, we could help you apply for one of those programs that are for people that don’t have a lot of money to get better.” 

Jules shakes her head, “No, I can’t go to one of those. That’s where my friend Mindy went. She met her heroin dealer there!” 

You sigh and stand up from the bed and pull out your wallet. You don’t carry cash often, but one of your best customers gave you a pretty hefty tip in cash. “Okay, how much do you want, Jules?” you ask with a coldness that Leigh has never seen in you before. She doesn’t want help. She wants money. You’ve dealt with this behavior before. Leigh scowls at you for accusing her sister of only asking for money when she was clearly here for help. That’s until she sees Jules' eyes dry up almost instantly. 

“Um, maybe a few hundred to a thousand. You know, for the down payment,” she says as she starts to scratch her wrist. You close your eyes, her habits have gone beyond alcohol. You clear your throat and pull the wad of cash out of your pocket and with a heavy heart, you start to count the cash. 

Leigh can’t believe what she is seeing and she puts her hand over yours to stop you. “Jules, it’s okay. You don’t need to make the arrangements yourself. I will do it for you.” You feel bad for your girlfriend because you can see that she has hope that she can save her sister from herself. Part of you hopes that she can, so that she doesn’t have to deal with the heartbreak of finding out that she can’t. 

Jules looks at her sister and then to the money in your hand. You don’t know what has gotten into Leigh's sister, and you want to help prevent her from getting worse but it was up to her. And if she needed money, you’d rather be the one to give it to her than to have her find other ways to earn the money. You follow Leigh’s lead and give her the chance to choose, the money or her sobriety. Leigh is desperately hoping her sister makes the right decision. Her hand grips yours tightly in anticipation. 

“Jules, whatever you’re going to use this money on isn’t worth it,” you say, letting her know that she has been caught. She looks at you in shock, she thought her act was working. “We’re here for you, let us help you.” Jules locks her eyes on the money in your hands and licks her lips. The craving is so much stronger than she is. You can see her losing her battle. 

“Jules,” Leigh says in a strong tone with tears filling her eyes. “If you take this money, I don’t think I could have you in my baby’s life.” She tries to bring out the sister that was promising Leigh months ago that if she kept the baby then she would help her every day and night with feedings and diaper changes and watching the baby whenever Leigh needed her to. When she was sober, she wanted it all. She can’t believe she doesn’t recognize the woman in front of her. 

“Okay,” Jules says as she steps back. She clears her throat. “I’m um I’m so embarrassed. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this. I just. I just, I need to get out of here.” She says as she starts to leave the room. Leigh starts shouting for her mom to come to her room and Amy arrives, concerned and a little annoyed. 

“What is with all of the shouting?” She asks as she enters the room. You and Leigh waste no time in explaining to her mother the concerns the both of you have for her daughter. The both of you suggest staying at the house longer in order to help monitor Jules but Amy doesn’t agree to the idea. “No, I won’t allow it. You two need to start focusing on the baby and starting your lives together. Okay? You already have enough to worry about. Jules is my baby and it’s my job to care for her. I appreciate the offer but no. I have to take matters into my own hands here.” She states confidently. Leigh can’t believe that her mother is being so stubborn about allowing her to help her sister. But Amy has put her foot down on the situation. You try to offer to help with paying for Jules' rehab stay but Amy declines. “No, we’re not doing that again. I think I’m going to handle this differently. Besides, the two of you need to buy that house. You will have a child of your own to worry about soon enough. You don’t need debts from something like this.” 

You nod and rub Leigh’s back in comfort, “I understand. Please let us know if we can do anything if you ever find that you need help.” Leigh concurs your statement and Amy hugs both you and her daughter as she thanks you. 

“Now hurry up with that packing,” Amy says as she points to the half empty suitcase. She leaves the two of you alone to go find Jules. Leigh no longer takes her time in packing, ready to be away from the drama for a bit. When she is ready to leave, she doesn’t say bye to her mom or her sister because she doesn’t get the chance to. The door to Jules’ room is locked and Amy is on the phone making arrangements to help her struggling daughter. 

The drive to your apartment is quieter than you anticipated it being. You wanted today to end on the good note that you and Leigh were committing to a life together. Not this. Unfortunately, stuff like this is a harsh reality. And if neither of you can handle it, then it might not be the perfect match you convinced yourselves of after all. Then again, when Leigh puts her hand on your thigh at the red light to grab your attention and she gives you that look that is so full of love and appreciation as she thanks you, you know that isn’t the case. You know that this is real and this will be a lasting connection. You love her and she loves you. Together, the two of you can brave any storm.

Eight

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiwritesfanfics @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters

[thickenmyblood]

maca this chapter was insane i was kicking my feet the entire hour I took to read it!!

but can I just say as much as I was team damen in the beginning cause I didn’t fw laurent’s whole approach to the breakup…..I don’t get why damen was so upset with laurent abt the needing a lawyer reveal when he immediately recognised that it was obvious that laurent continued to stay with him because he genuinely loved him.

Don’t get me wrong I definitely love that you took that approach cause your writing is so REAL and Damen recognises he’s being an idiot sometimes!!But I didn’t expect Laurent to not push back abit in some sense like he was just a traumatised kid barely a year older than nicaise is rn when they met (if i got the math right on that).

anyway I think I just wanna hear more about your thoughts on Laurent’s headspace if it’s not spoiler-y ofc. Thank you for such a brilliant chapter and happy holidays ♥️♥️

hello! i was actually talking to @savoytrufflephd about this the other day. this is terribly long but we're reaching the end of the fic and i will never get the change to speak on these things again, and so i hope this answer guides your reading experience and helps clear any doubts you might have going into the last chapter.

about damen:

during their argument, damen is gutted to find out that laurent approached him because he needed a lawyer and money, and, indeed, damen doesn't have an absolute "let's berate laurent" meltdown right then and there, but i wouldn't say he "immediately recognized" anything.

there are three main emotions at play during the reveal scene.

sadness: damen feels deeply hurt by laurent's confession.

There is nowhere to go. There is no other sound in the world but Laurent’s voice, tearing him open.

They should be doing this in the kitchen, Damen thinks. For old times’ sake. For symmetry. There must be a reason why Aimeric keeps picking kitchens as his bleeding spot.

anger and/or self-righteousness: damen makes comments to hurt laurent and express the hurt he's feeling himself and how he feels cheated and wronged.

(...) Was a live-in nanny so expensive that you had to spend the next four years forcing yourself into bed with—”

“You were nervous. Before. I remember the—was the bathroom break so you could vomit in between—”

(...) So you stayed up all night, going through that—that shit, and you had ten liters of coffee this morning so you could be brave enough to sit here and tell me that I was your pimp for a while. (...)

“I wouldn’t blame you,” Laurent says, “if you—” “Don’t play the martyr card.” “I’m so—” “Fuck you,” Damen says.

defeat: damen slowly realizing this is the worst case scenario. there can't be anything worse than this, and so it's almost a relief to hear it because he 1. didn't have to ask 2. can't imagine any other blow hitting him harder (which... i mean, he did have a heads up from nikandros). now what he wants is to understand how this happened and why.

Something is leaking out of Damen now, except it isn’t blood. He feels it by its absence, by the relief it leaves behind. This, he thinks, as he looks at Laurent. This is everything they have done to each other. There is nothing left but this: the wound, drained; the wound, re-dressed. This is what he wanted to know, what he asked for. This.

He might as well lay down on the table and pass Laurent the knife.

He wants to feel stupid and can’t, wants to lather himself up in hatred to slip away from this with ease. He can’t. He’d thought in those first months at Nikandros’s that he knew what hating Laurent was—annoyance, mostly, and contempt, slightly—but now he knows that wasn’t hate. He could never hate Laurent. Maybe he could learn, could train himself to do it, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to understand. He wants—

damen is not the best when it comes to understanding his own emotions. later on, when analyzing this argument with neo, this happens:

“I don’t know how it made me feel,” Damen says. “I was angry yesterday. At him. And I know I should be angry now, or earlier when he said—when he told me.” “But you weren’t.” “I wasn’t sad either. It was like…” “Like?” Damen smooths over the sheets beside him. The bed is cool and neatly made on that side. “Like I’d been waiting for him to say it for so long, that when he did, it wasn’t… I don’t know.”

he did feel all those emotions in the argument, but when asked to talk about them, he holds onto defeat instead of anger or sadness. i wrote him this way because i wanted a version of him that was tired of arguing with laurent, that didn't want to do that anymore, that wanted things to be fair between them. plus, i wrote very early on that he's just not very creative when it comes to (active) cruelty. it just doesn't come naturally to him.

now, about laurent:

i agree that this laurent reads very passively. he doesn't strike back, doesn't argue that he was desperate, that it wasn't his fault, etc. this is because:

he's being self-hating. this is him basically telling damen "look at what i did and hate me for it. i don't deserve the way you've always helped me, the way you're STILL helping me. i'm not a good person. i'm not who you think i am." this is why, in this fic, laurent also allows nicaise to treat him like shit. it's the reason laurent did not tell agnes about the verbal abuse he was being subjected to. he thinks he deserves it. it's the reason he tells damen having sex with maxime was a chore and still he kept doing it.

like damen, he's also tired of arguing. in fact, i would say he's MORE tired than damen. he's getting the worse of nicaise's ire and has been for months. he knows damen is upset with him bc of that 10 minute conversation he had alone with nicaise in ch18. the day before, damen looked him in the eye and told him it was all his fault, that everything wrong that happened with nicaise was on him, that he was to blame because he was too busy having fun and being stupid to take care of the one person he was supposed to look after. he's emotionally drained. he spent the entire night looking through nicaise's phone, analyzing dates and punishing himself for everything that happened. after almost 400k words of fucked up situations, he's finally reached this strange limit of "whatever, just let it end".

the self-fulfilling prophecy aspect of his relationship with damen. in a way, laurent never dared to hope what he had with damen would be forever. in fact, he believed in order to keep damen, he had to sacrifice many, many, many things and aspect of who he was and is as a person, because otherwise damen would not and could not love him. things like his mental health, his own abuse, his views on sex... but also small, stupidly vulnerable things, such as letting your partner know that you fucking douche!!!!!! letting him know you do things every other human does. laurent wanted damen to love him, but he didn't think damen ever could if he showed him all his cards and baggage and whatever you want to call it, and so he made himself palatable. and this was, ultimately, the downfall of their relationship (along with damen's obvious ignorance, emotional issues, repression, etc.)

this is all i can say on laurent's end. ch20 will give you some more details to help you look at his actions and thought process throughout the fic in a different light. i hope this answer made sense and wasn't just me babbling for seventeen thousand words.

thank you for your time!!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Five.

Big thanks to my little audience who are offering lovely feedback on this. Since I've just started writing chapter eighteen so thus going very strong in the writing, I decided to spoil you all with a second update this week. Enjoy :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,489

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“So, how?”  

“How what, Moo?” 

“Don’t call me that! I’m mortified!” 

“You’re stuck with it now, little baby cow. Anyway, elaborate.” 

“How is a great guy like you single? Honestly,” she asked, her fingers touring his, remarking at what exquisite hands he had. She had a thing for hands.  

He looked a little pensive, hissing a soft breath as he raised his eyebrows. “My last relationship didn’t end well. Not at all.” 

Reaching to his neck, her fingers stroked at the stubbly skin just beneath his jaw, more of a short beard now thanks to the fact he hadn’t shaved in a few days. She liked it, that bit of scruff there. “Tell me about her, this insane woman who let someone like you go.” 

“Her name was Sofia,” he revealed, hand beginning to idly stroke up and down her forearm. “Sofia Mendez. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of her, but she’s a model, originally from Brazil. I was with her for four years before she dumped me for someone else. Didn’t see it coming at all, completely blindsided me. I thought she was the one. We were engaged for the last year of our relationship, and then one day, the first sight I saw upon coming home from working away for a month was her engagement ring sitting on the kitchen counter, and every single trace of her gone. It was rough.”  

“Bloody hell,” she winced, reaching to stroke his face, “no warning, no note or anything?” 

“Nope. She called me after a few failed attempts at contacting her, explained that she wasn’t happy. I didn’t know about the other guy until she was pictured with him less than two weeks later.”  

How people could even think to act like that to a person they’d been so committed to was beyond her. Sure, she hadn’t been angelic in her thirty-one years, but serious relationships were exactly that for her. “That’s peak bitch energy. Sorry, but it is. I’m sorry she did that to you.” 

He reached for her, thumb stroking her cheek. “Thank you, and don’t apologise, you’re right. It’s what helped me eventually move on. I have no time for people who aren’t prepared to be straight with me.” His thumb continued to circle, the sunshine steaming in from the floor to ceiling windows across the room catching the blue of her irises. They reminded him of the sea surrounded the Maldives; such a blue should not be able to exist in an iris, but there it was, twinkling stunningly in hers. “How about you? Why no guy?” 

Immediately, she looked away, closing her eyes for a moment, a tiny crease forming between her brows. For a second, she was on the white, matte tiled floor, held beneath all two hundred and ten pounds of him, her airway clamped in a merciless vice, his fist meeting the side of her face again and again.  

“Jade?” 

“Sorry, I just... bad memories,” she finally spoke, shaking herself back from hell. “He beat me, tried to throttle me, that’s why I left him. It only happened once, but he could have killed me. He was a UFC fighter. I only managed to get away from him because my dog dived on his back and bit him, almost tore his shoulder off. I don’t speak about it; I won’t give it air. He hurt me badly and that’s all there is to say.” 

“Fucking bastard,” he exclaimed quietly, his forehead wrinkling as he shook his head. He then closed his eyes, a blade of realisation slithering against his insides. “Shit... and I just put my hand around your neck and I... fuck. I...” he lamented, his muscles all stiffening instant regret coiling through him.  

Immediately. she sat up, hands cupping the sides of his face. “No, you’re fine, you’re fine, baby,” she insisted. “I felt a little bit... strange for a second,” she began, Adrien cutting in. 

“Yeah, when your body went completely rigid, which I mistook for you liking it. Fuck.” 

“Wasn’t a mistake. I did like it. Honestly, I do like it, I do. I think that’s why I wasn’t completely traumatised by it, because it always has been something I’ve enjoyed, being held down by my neck. Choking not so much, but being held, yep. Does it for me,” she assured him, quite surprised he’d noticed such a flicker of nuance in her. “Now he isn’t the last man who put his hand around my neck any longer. You are. And you did it for a very different reason, so don’t beat yourself up. What Ivan did to me, I’ve put it behind me. I have.”  

Looking up at her, while he was sure that what she emphatically stated with regards to him was true, he couldn’t be certain she truly meant it about Ivan. He didn’t really know what to say to that, figuring if she wanted to tell him more, she would, respecting her boundaries enough to leave it where it was as he pulled her down against his chest, wrapping her in his arms.  

The difference between the last man and the man who now held her tightly was as stark as night and day, Jade kissing his chest as she allowed the feeling of safety to wash over her. Ivan had been too blinded by his steroid fuelled rage to think of what he was doing even for a second, and then there was Adrien, immediately prickled by regret by an action done in the heat of a very mutually willing sexual encounter.  

She could still feel it in him, his body tense, lifting her head to look down at him. “I mean it, it’s fine. And you better fucking do it again, Mr. B, because I bloody loved that shit.”  

Finally, he began to smile, pulling her into a kiss. “Well, if you put it like that.”  

It was twenty-four hours before they left bungalow three of Chateau Marmont, taking a cab straight to the venue the band were set to play at that night. As expected, there were some reactions when they walked into the dressing room together. 

“Oh, she got banged!” Jen shouted, grinning widely. “Look at that smile, man!” 

“The drought is over, hallelujah,” Jess then stated, with much less volume.  

Adrien turned to her, looking a little uncomfortable. “I got that interview in ten, I’ll be on the bus.” Leaning to her, he gave her a quick kiss, heading back out to find Marv while Jade moved to a chair, sitting down with a noticeable wince. 

“Ooooh, somebody got her little cooch beaten up,” Katie teased, pulling a beer from the cooler and handing it to her. “So, how was it, baby girl?” 

Sipping the cold beer, she smirked a little, cocking her head. “He’s a bad man in the very best way, and that’s all you get.”  

“Oh lady, the look on your face right now, that’s all I need!” she chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “You look happy with him, so I’m happy for ya. C’est la vie, baby. C’est la vie.”  

Certain others present weren’t quite so easily sated. “Yeah, yeah, but is he packing, is what we really want to know!” 

“Jen, quit. We’re grown women, not high school kids!” Jess scolded, slapping her arm.  

“Oh, come on! I’m a horny single person, I need deets!” 

Jade rolled her eyes, laughing while licking her top lip momentarily. The laughter and little whoops of her girls had her cracking up, Charlotte especially. 

“That’s the look of a woman whose been laid well, and by something substantial!” 

Her smirk only grew wider. The rhythm guitarist was not wrong. At all. “That man has about the most beautiful, thick cock I have seen in my damned life. And he knows exactly how to use it. Now that’s your lot, stop fishing and go find yourself someone to bounce on. You need to get the sex angry thing out of your system, for god’s sake.” 

The drummer scrambled over the empty seats between them, holding her fist out. “Hell yeah, bitch. Bump it! Ain’t nothing better than a big dick attached to a guy who knows what to do with it!”  

She was entertaining if nothing else, just mildly mortifying along with it. Some people never grew up past eighteen, and more and more of late, Jen seemed to be showing that. Then again, touring was her favourite thing, the exhilaration of playing live, the buzz they all felt from getting up on stage each night to put on a show. Jen seemed to drink in the energy more than the rest, though.  

All talk of the new man in Jade’s life ceased when the documentary guys made their way in, the now near constant camera on her beginning to grate a little, wondering why she’d agreed in the first place. Part of the reason she’d absconded with Adrien so early the previous morning was so she could lose them for the day, not willing to let them have that kind of unprecedented access to her life as to capture her heading off to a hotel to get to know said new man intimately for the first time. 

While the girls all chatted, various crew coming in and out, a journalist from a well-known metal magazine arriving to interview Jess too, she sat in the corner on a call with her agent, the powerhouse legend that was Harriet Geller, discussing a couple of movie roles that she felt worth her time to audition for.  

Between that, quickly running to the front to greet a few fans who had VIP privileges and thus early entry and getting herself ready for the show, she only had minutes to spare to run to the bus and bask in a little affection from Adrien, who she didn’t see again until noticing him there in the wings while she was on stage, a place he stood most nights to watch her perform. It flattered her endlessly, knowing he really wasn’t into her musical genre at all, and yet there he was, showing his unwavering support.  

She’d miss it in three days from then, to turn and not see him there. Probably more than she was willing to admit.  

With the first of the four LA shows done, they headed back to the bus, the second show being played at the same venue meaning they didn’t need to move, and much to the girl’s annoyance, the tour budget not extending to putting them up in a hotel as it was seen as an unnecessary expense. In the early hours, Jade slept soundly after being fucked thoroughly but quietly, Adrien having issues with his brain switching off, carefully getting out of bed and pulling his jeans back on, wandering down to the front lounge. He wasn’t the only one suffering the same. 

“G’morning, mister,” Jen spoke, turning away from her book with a smile. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” 

“Brain doesn’t wanna switch off,” he admitted, seating himself next to her, nodding at her book. “Ginsberg, huh?”  

“Yeah, yeah,” she nodded, “he floats my boat. Howl changed my damned life, man.”  

“My mom would agree with you there. She loves him so much, she named one of her dogs after him,” he revealed, smiling when he thought of the pups, the house hippos as he always referred to them as. 

“What dogs does she have?” she asked, looking a little lamentable. “I’d love one, but I’m away so much it wouldn’t be fair, y’know?” 

“Pit bulls. She loves big dogs, never been fond of anything small and yappy.” 

“Oh, my favourites! Those and Doberman's!” Reaching for her trapezius muscles, she grasped them, jerking her neck until something cracked loudly, groaning as Adrien winced. 

“Hmm, that sounded pleasant,” he snorted with soft sarcasm, watching her grimace a little. 

“I get all kinds of back, neck and shoulder pain from drumming. It’s why I’m still awake, waiting for my second dose to kick in. Excuse me if I start acting dopey, it’ll be the painkillers finally doing their job.” Resting her book down, she tried to ease some of the tension away, sighing, the pain obviously more than she was comfortable with. “I need my chiropractor.”  

“I’m not one of those, but I’m told I have healing hands if you want me to give you a little pinch?” he offered, Jen smiling gratefully. 

“Would you? That’d be awesome, thank you. I know you don’t like me much, so that’s nice of you,” she spoke, the little slice of candidness making his insides prickle a bit. 

“It isn’t that I dislike you, Jen. I just don’t know you, and usually you’re a little...” 

“...like a human version of a Tasmanian devil?” 

He laughed softly, nodding as she tied up her mountain of blonde hair into a messy bun. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”  

He was about to begin, Jen suddenly turning to him, looking a little reluctant. “Um, okay so I gotta ask, and I know it’s TMI, but have you washed your hands since your fingers were likely all up in my best friend’s hoo-har?”  

He barked a laugh at the term hoo-har. “Oh, god,” he laughed, shaking his head, “I’ll go do that now.”  

“Appreciated, because I love that girl to death, but not enough to be that up close and personal, y’know, man?” 

“Got it,” he confirmed. One thorough hand scrub later and he’d returned, Jen sitting at his feet while his fingers grasped at the knotted muscles beneath her tattooed skin. “Better?” 

“Oh, Jesus in tap shoes, that’s amazing!” she sighed, finally feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to yield. “The girls try and help me, but they don’t have man hands. Man hands hit different. The only thing that comes close is getting Jess to walk on my back.” 

“Is it a direct result of drumming, why you get this?” he asked. 

“That and my back being a little messed up anyway, yeah. Touring is my favourite thing in the world, but it takes it out of me. Especially when we long haul. We just did eight months through Europe, the far East and Australia before coming back here. We had just over a month break so Jade could film her new movie that’ll be out next February. I swear, that woman has a work ethic unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” she explained, Adrien nodding. 

“From what I know, I agree. It’s something we have in common,” he spoke, hands moving to her neck.  

“I can feel you grinning back there.” Turning, she smiled wryly, reaching to squeeze his knee. “She’s the best, ain’t she? I’m stupidly biased, man, but she is.” 

“Yeah, she’s unlike any other woman I’ve met. I’m crazy about her, truth be told,” he confessed, Jen still turned, pointing at him. 

“And you? You seem like a really nice guy, and trust me, she needs that. After the last one, yikes on a hell of a lotta bikes. That was scary.” 

“Ivan?”  

She nodded. “Terrified me, that did. I had nightmares about it, seeing the state of her face. She called me in a blind panic while she was driving, after it happened. I yelled at her to pull the damned car over before she ended up crashing, got her location and drove to her. Took her to hospital myself. Luckily, I was only a twenty-minute drive away, ran a few red lights and crosswalks and did it in ten. Fuck, she was in a bad way.” 

“Was she? She didn’t really go into much detail.” That didn’t surprise her at all. 

“That isn’t surprising, but don’t take it personally. My girl, she tends to push things she doesn’t wanna deal with aside. I’ve been waiting for it to surface, so I can be there for her when it does. She doesn’t do so well showing weakness, though, or rather what she perceives to be weakness. I told her she ain’t weak, I mean god, that scumbag knocked the shit outta guys his own size, fucking levelled ‘em to the canvas, and she’s a hundred and twenty pounds, y’know?” 

He did. He’d also noticed what Jen revealed, too, about her pushing things aside. When she’d spoken of Ivan, it hadn’t been in any great detail. “I’m glad she has you. You girls, you all have each other’s backs, don’t you? It comes across very clearly.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. We gotta, y’know? We’re five women making our way in a male dominated genre, the deck is stacked against us. You gotta be tough to survive it, man.”  

The more she spoke, the more Adrien found himself liking her. Jen was a straight shooter, just like him, and there in the dead of night, no audience she felt she had to be upbeat for, there was much more to her beneath the wild, brash woman he’d only encountered thus far. He saw clearly why Jade spoke so highly of her.  

They chatted quietly a little more, Jen thanking him with a forehead kiss for helping her feel a lot more comfortable, her second dose kicking in and dictating she crawl back into her bunk, Adrien returning to Jade’s side. Two days. God, how he wished he had longer, but it sadly seemed like no time at all before he was standing at the curb waiting for his cab to arrive, holding her close, his arms reluctant to loosen even an inch.  

When he looked down, it was into blue eyes that swam with tears, Jade wiping them quickly, her hand flapping. “Ignore me, I’m being daft.” 

“Baby,” he whispered softly, kissing her head. “It’s only three months. Isn't ideal, but it is how it is. I’ll be back before you know it, and until then, my phone’ll be glued to my damned ear whenever I get the chance to call you.” 

“I know,” she sniffed, holding his face in her hands, pulling him to her level to offer kisses, kisses she didn’t ever want to end. “Text me when you land, alright?”  

He was going back to his rental place to pack, then heading straight to New York for a week of press to promote his latest movie before flying from there down to Hawaii to begin the Predators shoot, wishing with everything he had that he was taking her with him, too. “I will, Moo. Promise.” Exchanging another lingering kiss as the cab pulled up, they smiled sadly at one another, and then he was gone, Jade waving him goodbye before she moved back to the bus, the others all still asleep.  

She sat in the front lounge with a cigarette and a coffee for a while, feeling a little empty, kicking herself for letting her emotions get the better of her to such an extent. He was right, it was only three months, but oh, it seemed much too long to go without seeing a man she’d become so very attached to. It was the way of her world, though, his too. Relationships were not conventional when your career was in the public eye, away for weeks or months at a time.  

Her phone then beeped, Jade pulling it from her pocket to read a message that set her tears off all over again. 

‘Miss you already xxx’ 

Stubbing out her cigarette, she rubbed the screen with her thumb, heaving herself up and heading back to the little nest of a bed in the rear lounge he’d occupied with her just an hour before. Suddenly, though, it seemed a little too vast without him there, Jade sighing as she stood, picking up the pillow that smelled of him and heading to climb into her bunk, curling up to cry quietly. She wasn’t there by herself for long.  

“Scooch, Skip” The long, familiar body belonging to Jen climbed beneath the comforter with her, wrapping her up in a big hug and stroking her hair. 

“I’m such a twat!” she exclaimed, sniffing hard. “I’m thirty-one, not sixteen, acting like a dick over here. For fucks sake!” 

“Hey, shhh now, yeah?” she soothed, wiping her tears away with the back of her fingers. “You met someone you really like, it’s natural to not want to be parted from him, you big goof!” Oh, how she beat herself up where showing emotion was concerned.  

“I do like him, and it’s scaring me because it’s hit me so hard! I’ve never felt like this so soon after meeting someone, and what if he bails? What if he decides nah, and then I’m just on my own again, no great guy? What if I fuck it all up like I inevitably do? I know I don’t need a relationship to define my happiness, but he’s just so... he makes me so happy!” 

She was spiralling, as she usually did if she didn’t get a hold on her herself and push it down in order not to deal with whatever was troubling her. “He isn’t going to, babe. And neither are you.” 

“How do you know that, though? He might, and if he doesn’t I probably will!” she wailed, her little meltdown continuing. 

“What, apart from the fact the man himself told me he’s crazy about you?” Jen asked, stroking her hair. “Really, wanna know how I know, other than that? Tealeaves.” 

Jade turned, frowning in confusion. “What?”  

“Tealeaves!” she shrugged simply, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Don’t tell me you forgot what Cerise told you, huh?” 

“The man you’re with right now? He isn’t the one. It’ll be the one after him.”  

 "The man you’ll end up with, well you’ll know for sure when you meet him, sweetheart. You’ll scream at him. He also has the same name as your dog.”  

"You’ll love his eyes, because you will never have seen green like them before." 

She had forgotten. In the two years since, her life a whirlwind of activity as well all the turmoil and trauma she’d gone through because of Ivan, she hadn’t remembered. Not right up until that moment, when the woman whose words she hadn’t put an ounce of faith in at the time came flying back, Jade sitting up suddenly, hands pressed over her mouth, her eyes rounding. 

“Oh, my life. She was right,” she whispered, staring at a quietly smug looking Jen. 

“Told ya! Cerise is never, ever wrong.” Watching her friend stuck on wide-eyed mute, Jen’s laughter escalated, Jade going to speak, no words coming forth, clasping her hand over her mouth again. 

“How did she know?” 

Rolling from the bunk, she landed softly, Jade following her out. “She always does. That face, that’s the face that looks like it needs a drink throwing in it.” 

“It’s 9am, Jennifer.” 

“And?” she boomed, rolling her eyes. “Dude, we’re dirty rockers. It’s expected. Lemme go fix you a shot.” 

Just then, the curtain on Katie’s bunk flew open, the guitarist poking her head out. “Are we doing a wake n’ wobble?”  

“We are!” Jen confirmed, grabbing the tequila from the mini fridge.  

Three out of five members of the band arrived at the airport slightly tipsy, which was handy since sober Jade was hell to fly with, being as nervous as she was on planes. Three hours later and they arrived on Texan soil, touching down at Fort Worth to a new bus, a new driver, and a whole new climate to negotiate, both in heat and public opinion. 

“Guys? Lookit!” Katie spoke, her head poking up like a meercat as they turned onto the street the next venue was located upon. 

“No way!” Jen cried, standing up and pointing. “Westboro are picketing us? Holy shit, we’ve made it!” The religious far right had long denounced Seventh Gate, pretty much since their name in the rock world had begun gaining leverage fourteen years before, Jade the main focal point of their ire. It had amped up considerably after they’d released the second single from their current album.  

The song, entitled Holy War, was a fiercely penned diatribe against what they felt to be the many and varied ills of the Christian church at large, particularly against women and children, the final scene in the music video for the single showing the five girls kicking out chairs from beneath five obvious men of the cloth, standing back to watch them hang. The religious movements across America had gone apoplectic in response.  

Disembarking the bus, they all handled it in their own unique way, Jen dropping her jeans to moon them before giving them the finger, Charlotte and Jess continuing into the venue without engaging them, leaving Jade and Katie, who actually approached them, joined by a little crew of their fans who were there standing their corner and shouting over their protests.  

One of said fans filmed the exchange between them and the Westboro fanatics, the video finding its way online the day after, being picked up by TMZ. The link to such found its way to a certain man down in Hawaii, Adrien sitting back in his trailer between shoots to rest for a half hour, opening the message from Jade. 

‘Baby, look! We got protested by dickheads! Xxx' 

Clicking the link, he watched the video in quiet amazement, half at the people thinking they had any right at all to act in such a holier-than-thou manner, half at how well Jade and Katie handled themselves in at least attempting to speak to them reasonably.  

“A woman’s place is in her home, nurturing her children, not upon a stage spitting profanities and encouraging blasphemy and unholiness!” the woman they were speaking to shouted hotly, watching intently, witnessing Jade taking her ire in her stride. She was much too clever to give her what she wanted, anything other than complete calm in the face of such indignant anger. 

“So, if a woman’s place is in the home, nurturing, why are you standing out here in ninety degrees, waving a placard full of hate, hmm?” 

Adrien laughed, proud of the way she handled it, his thumb rubbing over the image of her face on the screen. “Baby love.” he smiled, the words falling from his mouth before he’d actually registered it.  

‘Proud of my little Moo. Scream Holy War extra loud tonight, so they don’t miss a word. Miss you so much xxx’ 

He really wanted to follow that with ‘I love you’, but god, was a week way too soon? The way she looked at him, how happy she sounded whenever she answered his calls, it told him that no, it wasn’t. Still, though. He felt it would be better to tell her that information in person, so kept it to himself.  

Resting his phone down, he smiled, lying back and enjoying the feeling of knowing, just feeling, that he’d finally met the one destined for him.  

[queer-ragnelle]

Hi there, you don't have to post this on the blog, but I wanted to thank you for your earlier post with regard to different interpretations and iterations of Arthuriana. I really admire your work in/thoughts on all things Arthurian, and seeing you say "Each iteration is it's own self-contained world and anything is possible within that framework" was such a freeing thing. I'm currently writing an Arthurian thing where Lancelot falls for/ends up with someone who isn't Guinevere, and I often wrestle with the doubt of "if he isn't in love with Guinevere, am I really being true to the stories and the canon?" But each iteration is its own self-contained world, and I can honor the stories in other ways while still doing my own thing in this particular story/world. Anyway, all this to say, I'm sure it wasn't your intention, but I appreciate your insight and the encouragement it brings. Take care!

Hi there! Sorry for the delay in responding, but I wanted to think about this a bit beforehand. In writing my own Arthurian series, as well as reading and watching absolutely everything I can get ahold of, historical, medieval, and modern, I’ve developed a whole philosophy about it. So my reply got long hehe. Here’s what I think…

In the ask you referenced, I talked about how Arthurian legend lacks a true "canon," and how the stories all build off each other. The inconsistency from text to text and even chapter to chapter within the same story affords us endless opportunities for creative reinterpretation. I can basically be sold on any concept. I’ve read a lot of retellings at this point and I’m not married to any specific “canon.” If the writer can convince me that, in this version of the story, things played out differently, then I’m happy to get invested. For example, in Exiled From Camelot by Cherith Baldry, she develops Lyonors, Gareth’s wife, and makes her into a likable character the reader can easily ship with Gareth. On the other hand, I definitely see why people prefer Lynette with Gareth, as Tennyson did, and the majority of other retellings follow suit. Even so, I think Lynette and Gaheris made an adorable pair in Squire’s Tales #3, and it was a satisfying reveal in Squire’s Tales #7 that the pov character was their daughter, Lunette. It’s indicated through context clues who her parents are when they arrive at the end referring to each other by pet names. In the same vein, while I favor Ragnelle, Gawain can have any number of partners so long as the author writes the chemistry well. And while I still firmly believe Agravaine is gay in essentially every retelling, I do love Sarah Zettel’s romance Camelot’s Blood that she wrote between him and Laurel. I’m an Orkney Wives fan first and an Orkney Bros fan second haha!

That being said, Orkney Bros have always been inconsistent, so changing their love interests isn’t actually that drastic. In the case of Lancelot and Guinevere, severing their romantic connection is a huge departure from the norm. Undoubtedly, some people won’t “get it” or say it’s out of character. But the thing to remember is, there is no singular source for Arthuriana, so how can they ever be out of character? Let’s get into it.

Firstly, you don’t need to rationalize your narrative choices. To anybody. So long as you’re writing something for the sake of authenticity and good storytelling (rather than simply to be contrarian or edgy or quirky etc) it will resonate with your audience. That said, there’s medieval precedence for your concept. In Alliterative Morte Arthure, Lancelot is listed many times as one of Arthur’s knights. He’s there. Yet it is Mordred who adulterously marries Guinevere. In the romance retelling Lancelot by Gwen Rowley, Guinevere is not the love interest, but Elaine. Another similar angle is explored in Port Eternity by CJ Cherryh, which takes place entirely from Elaine’s point of view. Guinevere isn’t even truly in it and her stand in doesn’t fulfill the same role. In The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956), Lancelot definitely has A Thing with both the King and Queen, but a potential affair is not explored or even hinted at. He’s their bestie, their confidant, their most trusted person apart from each other. The key here is Lancelot still loves Guinevere (or her stand in), however that manifests. There’s no active dislike or hatred between them. In that circumstance, I don’t think the character would feel like Lancelot anymore. But changing the nature of his love for Guinevere from romantic to something else does not diminish its narrative value, as the above examples prove. Their friendship is the core of their relationship, as the Vulgate proves, and maintaining that is important.

It’s not so much about asking yourself, “Is [narrative choice] true to the ‘canon?’” as asking, “How do I tell a good story containing [narrative choice]?” There are examples of this done poorly, in my opinion. I’ve elaborated many many many times about David Lowery’s fumbling of The Green Knight (2021) and how that particular iteration falls short of a true adaptation (which I don’t think he set out to do anyway, to be fair) but also proved an unsuccessful reimagining of the poem due to mismanaged references and motifs. I didn’t like Once & Future by Cori McCarthy and Amy Rose Capetta or The Winter Knight by Jes Battis for the same reasons—both books felt like shallow, meandering stories lacking narrative integrity with a veneer of Arthuriana over it. Reincarnation AUs are not an excuse to flanderaize characters. Battis writes Wayne (Gawain) acknowledging how drastically he differs from his medieval counterpart, but awareness of it doesn’t negate the facts: the story suffers for it. On the contrary, Camelot 3000 gives an entire character arc surrounding this premise to Tristan, who has reincarnated AFAB and struggles with his gender identity and with accepting Isolde’s love for him, changed though he is. First Knight (1995) really screws up by making Lancelot a misogynistic creeper who relentlessly pursues Guinevere and even forces a kiss on her. King Arthur: Legend of The Sword (2017) is insultingly bad by showcasing just how stupid it thinks its audience is, brutalizing and killing women left and right, giving unnecessary screen time to obnoxious OCs, and bastardizing every aspect of the legend it drew from. Meanwhile the Fate Grand Order anime cuts out Guinevere entirely. Her role exists as a void. It makes no sense, then, that Lancelot and Agravaine clash as “fellow traitors,” because the woman at the center of the conflict is literally never present. Seven Deadly Sins anime has finally gotten around to Lancelot and Guinevere meeting, and she’s a clingy girl Lancelot is disinterested in, trying to flip the script on their roles, and only exacerbating the misogyny problem in shounen in the process.

Fear not! Loving Arthurian legend automatically enshrines anything you create in a glittering anti-garbage shield! So many versions exist that draw on the elements just because they can with no respect for the material nor their audience. You literally can’t do worse than what’s already out there and there are no original ideas! Published retellings love crackships, they love mixing it up, changing the expected, surprising us! So long as Guinevere isn’t made worse to make Lancelot’s alternative love interest better, and Lancelot himself isn’t turned inside out until he’s unrecognizable, you’re golden. Follow your gut and write something you would enjoy, develop it well within your own universe, and there will be an audience for it. I’m certainly among them!

Thanks for the ask. Have a lovely day! :^)

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hi hi! Im usually a lurker (first time sending anything in actually) I couldn’t help myself this time though and just really needed to say you are one of my favourite writers! Went from binging cbmthy to binging everything else. Thank you for sharing all the amazing writing🙇🙇 I hope you’re taking care of yourself!!💝🌸

…Moving forward…I’m sorry for my ramblings🫠 there’s just so much to talk and love about your stories

Ngl the first line of chapter 22 already made my heart ache🫠 just cause i felt it so deeply that reader almost routinely wants to talk to Bas. The thought of someone being such a big part of your life and just being gone one day over a terrible situation (whether it’s a good or bad thing that they’re gone), atp it’s so built into your routine that you can’t help but check on them or think of them even when you shouldn’t.

Idek how to feel about her sisters constantly wanting to buy things for her room. Cause I understand her sisters wanting to make her room feel more cozy again, and wanting to make her happy with the time she has left AND most importantly, conveying that it isn’t a “waste” to buy her things. BUT I ALSO UNDERSTAND READER’S MENTALITY AND I WILL ADMIT IVE GOTTEN FRUSTRATED IN SIMILAR SITUATIONS. Genuinely it does not feel good when you feel like you’re wasting other people’s money or time

Now Az…man Az…I’m probably in the minority of rooting for him even when the worst interactions happened between them (I say it’s cause I have massive faith in your writing ability to make their relationship come together☝️✨) BUT WJDJJWD I was almost thinking “just what is it that he wants??” Cause first, he’s the one who keeps seeking reader out now(? 2-3 times isn’t that many but I digress) while also flashing from decently warm (decently is important here) to extremely cold or indifferent.

“You kissed me back” EXCUSE ME? WHAT? LIKE- OKAY??? AND?? YOU DIDNT HAVE TO INITIATE IT ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU KNOW SHES SO DOWN BAD(???)

Okok and now the part I’m slightly confused about right? Now it’s very clear that reader isn’t the most emotionally stable and she is very very deadset on the belief that they hate her. So it wouldn’t surprise me if she took Az’s reaction wrong. What may look like ‘a horrible secret being revealed’, could actually be Az just- almost not knowing what to say to make things better? Or just…not knowing how to handle this? The line I’m questioning is “Azriel doesn’t care if she hit the nail on the head” how I took it is that what she said wasn’t necessarily correct but it doesn’t matter cause Az doesn’t want her to think he reciprocates but he also doesn’t want to reveal a “part of himself”👁️👁️ CURIOUS, VERY CURIOUS. And so he opted to be cold so she would hate him which I almost think that’s cause of his own deep rooted fears and hatred for himself (especially cause of the ‘if she thinks she’s in love with him, she should know how awful he is’ line). And that’s the part he doesn’t wanna expose to her (MAYBE??) as well as he actually probably pays way more attention to her than she thinks (Mr. I-know-you-have-a-small-scar-from-the-arrow)

Anyway that’s my rambling, please let me know if I misunderstood some of the text with Az!! THANK YOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL, HEART WRENCHING CHAPTER, EXCITED ABOUT THIS PRISON BREAK SITUATION💝💝

‘Hi hi! Im usually a lurker (first time sending anything in actually)’

Ahhh hello!! Very happy to have you here (whether you’re lurking or chatting in 🧡💛)!

‘just really needed to say you are one of my favourite writers! Went from binging cbmthy to binging everything else.’

Really?? ☹️🫂🫂 I’m so happy you liked cbmthy enough to explore further! I hope none of it was too jarring to read—I imagine hopping from angsty cbmthy to smut riddled basically-everything-else might be a bit surprising at first 😭

Please do not worry about rambling, I love love love hearing from people and chatting!! 🧡💛 (I also find it very helpful too—anyone who’s been here since the beginning of cbmthy will be able to confirm I relied—and still do kind of—a lot on feedback to help me measure angst levels and steer the story progression 🫣)

‘Ngl the first line of chapter 22 already made my heart ache🫠 just cause i felt it so deeply that reader almost routinely wants to talk to Bas.’

Yes! And it’s not like anyone other than Mor might have any reason to go to the Winter Court so it’s like he’ll be completely out of reach once he’s gone!

Though while I think it will be painful for reader to lose him like that—in the way that he won’t be completely gone, but just far enough she can’t reach him—it might push her to venture further in attempts to find a way to get another third space for herself (or I guess technically second space, since she’s only really in the River House now with her sisters and the IC)? I think that might be exciting to see?

What you said about doing things out of habit though, expecting someone to be there once they’re not…do you think anyone might spot a single empty chair and pause? Or pass a pair of gloves and remember sensitivity in their fingertips? After six months has passed, I mean

‘Idek how to feel about her sisters constantly wanting to buy things for her room.’

Yes, even though Rhys is probably horrifically wealthy, and even if that wealth is extended to Feyre and her sisters, I don’t imagine reader would ever really feel like it was hers. Or that she’d earned it.

If reader could accept that offering I think things could be very happy though. Imagine having an entire space designed specifically you? With the colours you like, evidence of hobbies scattered around? A safe place to be?

Also being on the other end of reader’s illness, I think it would be natural to want to make someone’s life as happy and as comfortable as possible if you knew it was coming to the end. It’s just unfortunate there’s still that small barrier between them :/

‘Now Az…man Az…I’m probably in the minority of rooting for him even when the worst interactions happened between them’

Yes! Yes! Finally! I’ll shower you in metaphorical flowers!! Thank you!! I promise it’ll get better, just stick with me and everything will be fine!!

‘Cause first, he’s the one who keeps seeking reader out now’

I think it’s very funny that they keep meeting, and trying to have a normal conversation and just,,,failing,,,consistently 🤭

‘“You kissed me back” EXCUSE ME? WHAT? LIKE- OKAY??? AND?? YOU DIDNT HAVE TO INITIATE IT ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU KNOW SHES SO DOWN BAD(???)’

I adore that I could practically hear the indignant splutter through the screen 😭🧡💛

To be fair, in that moment Azriel thought that reader was accusing him of sexually taking advantage of her which is why he opposed her in a way that was kind of embarrassing for her, when reader was actually talking about Azriel using her to get a read on Elain (which yay, reader’s keeping that in mind now!!)

‘So it wouldn’t surprise me if she took Az’s reaction wrong.’

👀? To be fair, if she’s convinced herself that everyone hates her, I imagine convincing herself that Azriel might try to kill her out of revulsion wouldn’t be a tricky task 😭

‘The line I’m questioning is “Azriel doesn’t care if she hit the nail on the head” how I took it is that what she said wasn’t necessarily correct but it doesn’t matter cause Az doesn’t want her to think he reciprocates but he also doesn’t want to reveal a “part of himself”👁️👁️ CURIOUS, VERY CURIOUS.’

So I’m actually very curious to see how people interpreted this part because I think it’s the closest we’ve gotten so far to understanding an element of Azriel’s cold behaviour towards Reader?

I’m not going to elaborate on this part because it will be expanded upon later in the series and I don’t want to spoil anything, but yeah. It was fun to write those two paragraphs from Az’s perspective 🥲

‘as well as he actually probably pays way more attention to her than she thinks (Mr. I-know-you-have-a-small-scar-from-the-arrow)’

I want to say I ADORED that scene and I think reader was probably frozen from awe too. I mean, we know how flustered she gets from holding a conversation with him alone, not to mention when close proximity is added since Reader was obviously raised human, and time alone with a man + TOUCHING??? = Marriage. Horse and carriage. COURTING. (I’m being hyperbolic 😶)

Since I think that’s how reader’s been raised to view those things, I imagine she attributes much more meaning to them than any of the born-fae do, hence all the flushing and embarrassment and elevated heart rates 🤭

(That’s not to say that Azriel was flirting with her. More that they have different perspectives on how to display intimacy—also will be elaborated on—and while reader knows Azriel doesn’t mean those things in the way she understands them, that doesn’t remove their significance for her which makes her feelings much more difficult to temper :) )

Like him touching the spot atop her heart?? Much more intimate than a one night stand where it would only be physical nakedness 😭

‘Anyway that’s my rambling, please let me know if I misunderstood some of the text with Az!! THANK YOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL, HEART WRENCHING CHAPTER, EXCITED ABOUT THIS PRISON BREAK SITUATION💝💝’

I loved reading you ramble and I’m so flattered you had so much to say about it!! Obviously I enjoy cbmthy since it takes up quite a lot of my time, so getting to hear people like yourself who’ve decided to read all the parts and then further decided to take some time to type messages out into my inbox? 🧡💛🫂🫂🫂

I love it, so much, so thank you for reading and enjoying!! I hope it continues to be a fun adventure! ☹️🫂

[alexiavettel]

chapter six

"The world was whole then, the sun and the moon together as one"

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!stroll¡reader

word count: 2.3k+

warnings: explicit language, reader manipulating her father to create chaos basically, Seb retirement, Lawrence is almost a good dad (i love him, i hate to make him a bit toxic), reader and charles being sassy and quite aggressive towards each other, Leclerc being obnoxiously sexist.

disclaimer: any photo used is not supposed to represent the reader, are all Pinterest pics that match the context

<<< previous part

April 10th, 2022

Melbourne, Australia- post-race

“We're gonna reveal in the next race” Charles notified you right after entering your trailer “Binotto wanted to be in Monza but it’s too far. So.. I was thinking that we could walk in on thursday holding hands” he starts planning.

“We didn’t agree with soft launching?”

“For god’s sake, Stroll! We’ve been soft launching for months! I had never gone out so much even with my real girlfriends, there are more pics of us in gossips accounts than on our own phones, we do more press together lately than when we were in the same team. Everyone figured that we are together already” he seats down on your couch.

“But why Imola? We could wait a bit, don’t we?”

“They decided already. Better be soon in the season, no?” 

“I will find a way to not let this be a main thing this weekend…” you murmur to yourself but Leclerc managed to hear it.

“What are you planning, Satan?” The man gets up and comes closer, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I don’t wanna be in the spotlight… with you” you whisper.

“Gotta be clearer, sweetheart” he looks at you quirking his brow.

“You’ll see it!” You turn to him and smile over sweetly.

“I don’t like the way you say this-”

“Do you want all the questions this weekend to be about our relationship? Yeah, I don’t think so. My team had something planned for a while so I think we could announce it now and it’ll take a bit of the spotlight from me- us”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s a bit of a risky move, but I’m gonna figure it out”

•

“Dad, please! I would never ask you for something like this if it really wasn’t important!” A lie, you would. You have done it multiple times already.

“Do you know how many problems this may create?” He grew uncomfortable in his seat. Having a serious conversation like this one, wasn’t your first option but the anxiety won.

“Daddy… An upgrade was already planned for Imola, we gonna announce it this thursday anyway. So thinking in a business way, it’ll attract to us a lot of attention. Since we’re having a good development this season, it will create an expectation in everyone that we are turning into a brand new team and one of the main ones. Announcing Alonso will create so much speculation and basically initiate the silly season”

“Kitten, there will be so many questions,” he sighed tiredly “did you stop to think how risky that is? To you, specifically. No one's gonna think Vettel is retiring, they will question your talent and ability, sweetie. I think I can do what you ask me but are you ready for all that?”

“Yes, I am. I’m not a kid anymore, you know I can take a bit of shit from the media with my head high. I’ve done it already, I can do it again. Thank you, daddy!” You hug him dearly. Really happy that the plan worked out and that he trusted you enough for that, but quite worried about the consequences. 

“Don’t worry, kitten. But I’ll need your help to talk with Vettel, see if he’s okay with all this. I’m gonna take care of the rest, let’s see if Alonso allows it. But I’m gonna make it happen, anything for you baby girl. Just… Don’t disappoint me, okay?”

“Never, father. But if Seb isn’t okay with it you don’t need to do it, deal?”

“You are the most perfect teammate, sweetheart” he shuffles your hair affectionately.

•

April 20th, 2022

Silverstone, United Kingdom - Aston Martin Headquarters

You told Seb everything yesterday, from the point of taking the attention away from you and Leclerc to open opportunities to other teams' proposals, as your official (and undisclosed information) contract ends this year.

Your dad was happy about Vettel’s acceptance and already set everything up for today’s breaking news. So let the silly season begin! While on Sim, Sebastian gave you a lesson about how risky that could be and if the media starts to go too harsh on you, you can call him up anytime. You have been ignoring Leclerc for the past few days since he hasn’t stopped asking what you're going to do and you can’t wait to see his reaction. Liv told you the news release time, not before calling you crazy and “Can’t you fucking accept that you and Charles are a couple?”...

Your mobile started ringing like crazy but you just put it on the ‘do not disturb’ mode and follow with your day. It actually made you curious sometimes throughout the day but you tried to concentrate on training, and gossiping with Seb helped a lot.

“So… People enjoyed the news?” Vettel asked when we were about to get out.

“I don’t know, didn’t touch my phone since it came out” you admitted picking up your stuff.

“You’re not curious?”  He side-eyed you smirking.

“Yes… But we already know what they’re talking about either way”

“Get your phone, if you're not curious I am!” You did what he said and got shocked by how many missed calls, hundreds of messages and social media notifications.

“God’s sake!...” You showed your phone to him and he started laughing at your reaction “Let’s search the news”

“SILLY SEASON BEGAN: Fernando Alonso joins Aston Martin for 2023. Who will leave?”

“Is Y/n Stroll remaining in Formula One?”

“Vettel OR Stroll? Who will leave Aston Martin?”

“Will Lawrence Stroll be brave enough to fire his own daughter?”

“Is it possible that Sebastian Vettel is going to retire?”

“Is Sebastian Vettel going back to Ferrari?”

“Who will replace Fernando Alonso in Alpine?”

“Will the only female driver on the grid be fired?”

“Did you see Leclerc’s message?” Sebastian asked after you two read all the news.

“He’s probably just freaking out. Did you already explain to him the Ferrari beef?” His reaction said enough “Why not?”

“Do you really think it will help his relationship with Mattia? I can tell him after I retire, I heard Binotto will retire depending on this year’s performance…”

“Really? That could explain why he had gone so far for Leclerc’s reputation. Shit, he’s fucked!” You laughed out loud while Seb attempted to scold you but failed and started giggling with you.

•

April 21st, 2022

Imola, Italy - Media day

Y/n Stroll POV:

“So the ghost comes to pay me a visit?” He was suited in his classic Ferrari polo when he opened his hotel room’s door. 

“Shut up, Leclerc” I enter the room and sit on his bed.

“You ghosted me for more than a week and I can’t be mad?!” He closed the door harshly.

“Stop being dramatic…” I shuffle around his messy bag of clothes.

“I’m not being dramatic!” He’s probably so mad that he doesn’t even care that I’m going through his stuff.

“Why do you care that much?” I found less embarrassing trousers, a white tailored one “Missed your pretty girlfriend?” I look up at him teasingly and he just avoids me looking at the trousers.

“Fuck you. What’s that?”

“I’m not being seen with you wearing those horrendous pants! Change to this white one and then we can go” With a sweet smile I shove him into the bathroom. 

As he took time to change I used the opportunity to read all the messages he sent to me in the meantime. 150 messages all about him going crazy like “WTF ARE YOU DOING?” “ARE YOU GETTING FIRED?”, it made me giggle.

He didn't say anything while walking out of the bathroom, just gathered his things in silence and didn’t wait for me to get out of the room.

“Are you really that mad at me?” He was waiting at the lift door. “Silence treatment now?” He remains silent.

The elevator arrives and we enter with quietude filling the air. If we stay in this situation the remaining 14 floors will be unbearable.

“I am not getting fired”.

Fourteenth floor

“I didn’t tell before ‘cause I didn’t know if my father would allow”.

Thirteenth floor

“You’re not gonna talk to me? Really? Stop fucking ignoring me!”

“Are you really that embarrassed of me?”

Twelfth floor

“Embarrassed? Only of your sense of style, Leclerc”

“It’s a lie”

“No, it’s not! Why would I be so embarrassed of you?” 

“You’re gaslighting me!”

“I am not! Why can’t fucking answer me properly?!”

“Look how much chaos you created just to not hold my fucking hand!” He scratched his neck after messing up his hair nervously.

“That’s not the problem!” I pick up his hand, interlacing our fingers “See!”

“Then why did you do all this? You don’t want this fake shit, I know it really well. I got you! But was this all necessary?!” He shook my hand away and widened his eyes.

“I don’t want the spotlight in my face!”

“You don’t shy away! Like never!”

“Can’t you put yourself in my place one fucking time?! You and the others can change girlfriends like a pair of shoes and will be treated normally!”

“And?”

“Stop playing dumb! Having a boyfriend will be the main point of my weekend to them. Especially if it is with a driver! They gonna question my ability, if I’m able to discern my personal and professional life, that I’m a whore who couldn’t keep it in the pants with a coworker!”

“They’ll do the same with me, don’t play the victim” He messes his hair madly.

“You’re a man! You’ll be the best one ‘cause you got a hot girl at work, you’ll be the player, an ‘alpha’. Now aside from ‘getting my seat from daddy’s money’ my good performance will be explained it’s because I’m fucking you or some bullshit like that!”

“Okay, I understand but! Why ignore me like that?! I can help and will! Why don’t you talk to me?”

“We are not friends! Why would you help if not for your own image? Stop pretending you care!”

“You are so self-absorbed!” Shit.

“Leclerc!” Shit shit shit shit shit.

“Don’t ‘Leclerc’ me! You screamed at me so can I!” 

“Leclerc! Listen-”

“No! You listen!-”

“Charles, shut up! Look!” I show the floor pointers stuck between the twelfth and eleventh floors. And right at that moment, the lights go off just resting the emergency one.

“Oh fine, great. Amazing really! Exactly just what I needed!” He shouts pressing the emergency button repeatedly “No one sees this fucking camera?!” He asks loudly, waving his arms like crazy to the small thing pinned on the corner.

“Are you fucking blind?” I nervously point to the only light on us.

“I’m gonna kill myself-” He desperately leans against the wall.

“Do you have a stick up in your ass?” I come closer to him starting to feel my blood boiling more. Everything he said is piling over and getting me even worse.

“What did you just say?” He starts to look down at me.

“Do-you-have-a-stick-up-in-your-ass? Did I forget something?” If he can look down at me like I’m shit I can do as well.

“Why can’t you stop being a bitch for a second?! We’re literally trapped here!” He approaches me caging in the wall, he narrows his eyes with a newfound intensity. Not just anger but something indescribable. 

“Yeah, nightmare material. Not like we got to choose!”

“Nah, I don’t believe you…” he starts smirking.

“You’re the one who is a breath away from me, Leclerc” I tilt my head to look directly at his eyes.

“Fuck off!” He distances himself mad.

“I gladly would. And look, just because I love torturing you, doesn’t mean I like spending time with you” Teasing him is a bit better when we’re not trapped in a lift and I can get out after this point.

“You really aren’t making this any easier, are you?” The driver started trying to open the door "I can't open it!"

“It's protected against idiots” I giggle as his arms shake after only opening about 5 cm of the door just to be concrete. We are literally in between floors, great. I hope we don’t die.

“Listen here” He corners me at the end of the lift, putting his arms around my head caging me and holding my jaw to look at him “Dare me again and I’ll fucking break you off”

“Wow!” I say cynically “That cute little face you’re pulling didn’t scare me before and it definitely won’t now. Put it away” I grab his jaw, pushing his cheeks together. and slapping him away weakly. 

“You find my face cute, huh?” He scrunches his nose, pushing my hands away and smirking.

“I hate- Fuck!” The lights come back and as the lift starts to tremble we stumble over each other. If it wasn’t for his hand on my hips we both would’ve been on the ground right now.

“Don’t panic! We are getting you two out of there!” We heard a masculine voice through the small opening in the elevator’s door.

“So… What you were saying?” He didn’t move his hand away.

“I hate you so fucking much!” The teasing is gone. I’m just mad right now. I don’t know how or why he can make me thrilled so easily but I would do anything to change that.

“Oh really?” He puts his right hand on my cheek, smirking.

“I don’t know what you’re doing. But yes, Leclerc really.” I managed to stare back at him defiantly.

“Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart”

“But you know what does? You getting off of me, sweetheart” I don’t like the feeling of my cheeks burning so I slap him off and go close to the door, with my back turned to him. “I hope we don’t get too late to the press…” I think out loud after a bit of silence.

“Lucky enough we were early. Probably going to arrive just in time, chérie” He acts normally, just checking the time on his watch.

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @honeyric3 @tempo-rary-fix hope you enjoyed <3

my taglist!!

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 9

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*Eddie*

Eddie pressed his fingers to his mouth as he walked down the front steps, still feeling the ghost of Steve's soft lips against his own. He felt like he was walking through a dream, instead of the nightmare that his life had become in the past 24 hours. Though that feeling began to drift away rapidly as he got into his fan and drove away from the trailer, and Steve and Eleven. 

Once he was alone, with nothing to distract him and no sound other than the hum of the engine, Eddie couldn't help but start spiraling, just a little. 

Could Steve have really meant what he said, when it was far more likely that he had just latched onto Eddie because he was the first person who’d helped him after two years in what was essentially captivity?

Did Steve actually like him, or was this some kind of Stockholm Syndrome thing?

No, that was for kidnappers.

Florence Nightingale syndrome?

It was a slightly better match, but it wasn’t as if he’d nursed Steve back to health or anything. 

Okay, so maybe there wasn’t a fancy name for it, but the two of them had been pulled together under wild circumstances. Was it so surprising that they might cling to each other as anchors for their respective ships in this storm?

A little, considering they were both boys and he had been 100% sure that Steve Harrington was straight, right up until the moment he’d kissed him!

Eddie knew, at least for his part, that it was more than a thing born of shared trauma. He’d been crushing on Steve for years, and had fantasized about kissing him countless times. The reality of it had been better than he could have ever imagined, too good to be true in fact, or maybe that was him projecting his own fears.  

It was a scary thing to be handed everything you ever wanted, and even more frightening to accept it when you’ve spent so long being absolutely sure that it would never be an option.

As he pulled into the high school parking lot he decided to just put the whole thing out of his mind for now, as best he could anyway. There were much more important things to worry about than his love life.

The bell rang, and he watched from his parking space as students began pouring out of the school. He spotted Mike and Will first, the two of them having grown so tall this year that they stood out from the crowd. He peered behind them, knowing Lucas and Dustin wouldn’t be far off. The four boys were rarely without each other, except when Lucas had basketball practice of course. Which he must have today, Eddie realized, when he found Dustin bringing up the rear on his own. 

He stepped out of the van and made a beeline for the boys, wanting to catch them before they got on their bikes and took off. 

“Hey shitheads!” Eddie shouted, hands formed around his mouth to boost the sound.

All three boys whipped their heads in his direction. Dustin’s expression morphed from a wide happy grin into a worried frown in an instant. Mike and Will just looked confused. Eddie jogged the last few feet to them, in a hurry to get everyone on board and get back home as soon as possible.

“Is everything okay?” Dustin asked, at the same time Mike said, “Where were you today? 

“Everything is fine” Eddie began, holding significant eye contact with Dustin, then looking at the others. “But there is something back at the trailer that I need you all to come see.”

Dustin gasped.

“What is it?” Mike asked, sounding annoyed.

Will was quiet, watching it all go down with a slightly amused smile on his face. He was definitely in the running to be Eddie’s favorite today.

“All will be revealed in due time, young Wheeler. Go throw your bikes in the back of the van. I’m gonna see if I can snatch up Sinclair before his practice starts.”

Mike opened his mouth, either to ask another question or to argue, but Dustin elbowed him in the ribs and told him to hurry up. Will had already unlocked his own bike from the rack and was walking it towards the parking lot. 

Yup, favorite kid. 

Eddie set off in the direction of the gym. He opened the door only to see Chrissy who had just come from the girls' locker room. It was perfect timing. 

She smiled at him and ran over, her sneakers squeaking on the court as she did. 

“Eddie! You weren’t in school today. You okay?”

He smiled in return. Chrissy was a literal ray of sunshine and he couldn’t help but react to that, no matter how weird his day had been.

“Yeah, I just had some family stuff to take care of.”

He scrambled for a way to ask her to come with him. If things did pan out the way they feared, she was in very real and immediate danger, and he just couldn’t imagine letting anything happen to her. 

He didn’t really want to give anything away until he could prove it, and there were too many prying eyes and ears for him to just blurt out - I found Steve Harrington in the woods! But he had to try something.

“I know you’re about to start cheer practice,” Eddie began, “But…uh, do you remember all that stuff we talked about in the library?”

Her smile faltered a bit but she nodded encouragingly.

“There’s been some developments and I'd really like to fill you in on what I found out, if you wanted to come back to my place? The boys are coming too, my cousin and his buddies.” He added quickly, worried that she might somehow take his invitation the wrong way.

Chrissy glanced nervously around the gym, and he was pretty sure she was about to agree to go, when two things happened at once. The outer doors swung open loudly, revealing Dustin, Mike, and Will, who must have gotten tired of waiting and came to look for him, he guessed, while the door to the boys locker room was also thrown wide as the entire basketball team came trotting out. They were buzzing with pent up energy and Jason Carver was at the head of the pack. 

He spotted Eddie immediately and rushed over. With no hesitation the jock planted himself between him and Chrissy.

Jason crowded Eddie as he shouted in his face, “Get away from her, freak! She doesn’t want to talk to you. What are you even doing here?”

“Jason, stop!” Chrissy shouted.

He waved her back dismissively. “No, no, it’s alright babe, I got this.”

Eddie grit his teeth, fuming, and not only because of the way Jason was talking to him, he could deal with that, but the way he was so openly dismissive of his girlfriend. Someone he was supposed to love. Chrissy deserved better.

“What is it, Munson? You like to watch the girls while they practice, huh? You got a thing for looking up their skirts?” Jason accused loudly, then lowered his voice to a sinister whisper.  “Or is it the boys locker room you’re more interested in getting a peep at?”

It was a dangerous accusation, and it unnerved Eddie a little that Jason might have suspicions about him. If he’d said what he did a little louder, there might be a lot more guys looking to jump into this fight. He tried his best to ignore it like he would any other barb, but it was an effort to keep from overreacting and rising to the bait

“Oh fuck off, you neanderthal. We were just talking.”

“What did you call me?”

Eddie looked at Chrissy over Jason's shoulder and rolled his eyes. She stifled a giggle, stopping abruptly and going wide-eyed when Jason turned his head to glance back at her.

“Don’t worry about it, Carver.” Eddie answered. “Now, if you would just kindly back the fuck up so I can finish my conversation with the lovely Ms. Cunningham here, I’ll be out of your hair in a jiffy.”

“I don’t think so. What makes you think she wants to talk to somebody like YOU anyway?”

In Eddie’s defense, it had been a long and mostly no good very bad day. He stepped into Jason, closing the very small gap that remained between them until they were almost nose to nose. 

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” He said, jabbing the other boy in the chest with his finger.

Jason shoved Eddie away from him hard. He stumbled, but Will, Mike, and Dustin were all there to steady him.

“Stop it, Jason! He's my friend!” Crissy shouted again, still hovering but trying to stay out of the way. This time her boyfriend either didn’t hear, or completely ignored her. 

Eddie shoved Jason right back, pleased when he had to take a step back to maintain his balance. Unfortunately, Eddie hadn’t really been in that many fights. Guys usually took one look at him and backed off, assuming he carried knives and shit just because he wore leather and a battle vest. He was briefly a drug dealer, so maybe that had something to do with it too. So, he was a little unprepared for Jason cocking back a fist and punching him square in the face. 

Chrissy looked like she was about to jump on Jason’s back to stop him but suddenly Lucas was there. He caught Jason’s arm, stopping it before he could land another hit.

“I knew you weren’t really one of us Sinclair! I should never have told the coach I had a good feeling about you! I’ll have you thrown off the team for this!” Jason shouted.

He shrugged himself roughly out of Luca’s grip and walked back over to where the rest of the team was doing warm ups and pretending not to watch the drama unfolding in front of them. 

Chrissy looked torn. She watched Jason walk away, bouncing her eyes between him and Eddie as she gnawed on her bottom lip. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally said to Eddie. “I don’t know why he gets like that.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She nodded a little to herself, sending a sad smile his way and turning to follow after her boyfriend. 

Eddie sighed. He’d have to let her go for now and hope that tomorrow wouldn’t be too late. He felt like an idiot, he should have known better than to approach her when that meathead was bound to be close by. 

“You good?” Lucas asked. Producing a small towel from his pocket and handing it to him to dab away the blood from his nose. 

“Yeah, sorry if I made trouble for you.” Eddie said, gesturing off towards the rest of Lucas’ teammates.”

“Don't worry about it, they all know how Jason can be. I’m sure the whole thing will be forgotten by tomorrow. What are you guys doing here anyway?”

“We need you to come with us.” Dustin butt in.

Lucas looked at all of them in turn. “Party business?”

“Don’t ask us,” Mike said, hooking a thumb in Eddie's direction. “He won't tell us shit.”

“I’ll tell you everything when we get to the trailer, I promise. We can’t talk about this here. You in, Sinclair?” Eddie asked.

“Fuck it, why not. Didn't feel like dealing with Jason’s attitude today anyway.”

“Good choice.” Eddie said, grinning. “Come on boys, let's get out of here.”

-

On the way back to his van, Eddie noticed Nancy and Jonathan about to get into her car. He’d thought for sure that he had taken too long and missed them, but somehow he’d gotten lucky.  Maybe the eldest Wheeler got caught up doing newspaper stuff after school. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. He told the boys to get in and trotted over to the couple.

Eddie found he had mixed feelings towards Nancy. She’d been so great about the investigation thing and told them everything they wanted to know, and she was nice about Eddie’s own reaction to it all, but there was a small part of him that bubbled up with jealousy when he thought about her and Steve being reunited. 

He knew she was with Jonathan now, and had been for a long time, much longer than she’d dated Steve, but the thought still set his teeth on edge. He shook it off, he had no reason to think they would still be interested in each other, and even if they were, it’s not like he had a claim on Steve now just because they’d made out a little bit. Nancy cared about Steve, and she deserved to know that he was alive and safe. Well, as safe as any of them were now.

“Shit, man, what happened to you?” Jonathan said as Eddie got close. He must still have some blood smeared on his face. 

Eddie shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “A disagreement between me and one of our resident jocks. No big deal. Listen, uh, are you guys busy right now?” 

The two of them shared a look. “Not really, why?” Nancy said.

“I can’t tell you here.” He was getting really tired of saying that already. “I’m sorry to be cryptic about it, but I think you’ll understand when you see. I’m taking all the kids back to my house right now, could you follow us there? There's something I need to show all of you.”

The couple looked at eachother again, confusion clear on their faces, but for whatever reason they agreed. Probably because he already had their brothers roped into something. Oh well, he'd take it. This had all gone much easier than he thought it would, apart from the black eye he could feel forming. 

-

The short ride back to the trailer park was uncharacteristically quiet. Dustin remained silent, though Eddie could practically hear the thoughts churning in his head. The other boys knew at this point that Eddie wasn’t going to give in, so there was no point in questioning him on the way. 

He pulled in front of the trailer and got out, ordering the boys to stop when they tried to walk right inside, insisting they needed to wait for Nancy and Jonathan.

He and Steve hadn’t exactly planned this part but Eddie made sure to stomp his feet on the steps so that anyone inside would hear them coming. He turned to his small assembled crowd, feeling like he should give them some kind of warning. 

“So, this might be a bit of a shock. Just…everybody try to be cool, ok?”

Eddie spun back around quickly to avoid the several sets of very concerned eyes that were aimed in his direction. He opened the door and stepped inside, doing a quick sweep of the room, finding Steve and Eleven sitting at the kitchen table with Wayne. He stepped further in, letting everyone trail in after him. 

Wayne, who’d had a sandwich halfway to his mouth, let it drop from his hands to hit the plate with a little thud. He rubbed at his face muttering, “God damnit Eddie.”

Eleven didn’t seem surprised at the influx of new arrivals, Steve must have filled her in when she woke up. 

“Wait, is that?” Lucas started to ask but was cut off by Nancy’s gasp of, “Steve?!”

Steve stood, giving her a little wave. “Hey, Nance.”

She hesitated, just staring at him for a handful of seconds before stepping forward and throwing her arms around him. “You’re alive.” She murmured softly into his chest, eventually pulling away to look at his face.

“Oh my god, you’re alive!” She said again, much louder this time and with tears in her eyes. “Are you okay?” She asked, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands. 

Eddie had that feeling again. He knew it wasn’t right but he felt like she was touching something that belonged to him. He held the jealousy in, Nancy and Steve had been something to each other once upon a time, and they were entitled to this without his interference. 

Steve lightly took her hands and lowered them from his cheeks. Then he finally looked up and met Eddie’s eyes, smiling as he said, “I’m okay, Eddie’s been taking good care of me.”  

Oh and didn’t that make his stomach flutter. Eddie could feel himself blushing a little under Steve’s gaze, glad that no one was really paying attention to him. Everyone was too focused on the missing person in the room, now found, and the young girl at the table who was a stranger to all of them.

Steve broke their stare after a moment and looked around at the rest of the assembly crammed into the small space of the trailer. 

“Hey guys.” He said, nodding to the younger boys.

Dustin, he greeted by name, causing the other three to look his way accusingly. He shrugged at his friends, mouthing the word sorry while looking far too smug to mean it, before walking over to take a seat next to Eleven. 

“Hey man.” Jonathan said, finally emerging from a stunned silence as Nancy came back to stand near him. “I’m, uh, glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks.”

“So that’s it? You found Steve?!” Mike blurted out, finally losing patience. Honestly Eddie was surprised he’d lasted this long. “I mean, not that that’s not cool and all but what’s with the secrecy, and why is he here instead of with his parents or Hopper?”

Eddie finally sidled up to Steve, close but not touching like he really wanted to. He wasn’t sure how he was meant to act now in general, let alone in front of this many people, so he was happy enough just to be near the other boy. 

Steve wasn’t. 

He took that one step closer that caused their sides to brush and rested his hand on Eddie's lower back where no one else could see. “Are you still sure about this?” He murmured the question softly into Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie nodded, even as his heart started to race from the gentle touch and the feel of Steve’s breath on his skin.

“There’s a lot we need to tell you all, starting with introducing you to someone. This is Eleven. She and I have been held against our will at Hawkins lab for the past two years.”

Mike, Lucas, and Will’s jaws all dropped simultaneously. Dustin grinned from his place next to the girl. She looked a little shy suddenly with all the attention and Eddie noticed Wayne gave her a little pat on the back in support. 

As he watched the interaction, and how the girl smiled up at his uncle, it hit Eddie suddenly how lucky he was to have made it out of that place when he did. Luckier still that Claudia had found him and took him home. He could have died, or been made to spend the rest of his childhood in that place the same way Eleven had. He honestly wasn’t sure which one was worse. 

-

Steve and Eddie took turns telling their parts of the story and then together explained the parallels between the game and the real world. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it didn’t take much to convince the boys that they were telling the truth. They quickly accepted the fact that much of what they had played through was real and they even took Eddie’s backstory in stride, though they had a lot of questions that he didn’t have the answers to. 

Jonathan and Nancy were a bit harder of a sell. He was quietly skeptical, while she kept trying to poke holes in everything and seemed completely unwilling to accept that anyone could have the type of power they were claiming. Finally, with a flick of her hand El sent a magazine that had been sitting on the kitchen counter flying in Nancy’s direction. She caught it on instinct, her mouth opening in a soft ‘oh’ of surprise as her brain caught up to what it had just witnessed. 

The rest of the room went dead silent at the display, save for Dustin who was giggling like an idiot at having finally seen what he’d been waiting for since the morning. He offered her a high five, which she returned with gusto, smiling wider than Eddie had ever seen her in their short acquaintance. 

Things went a lot quicker after that.

Wayne didn’t say much throughout the explanation, which wasn’t surprising to Eddie, his uncle had always been a quiet person, but he watched the man's face fall as they reached the end and had to tell of Eddie’s character's death at the hands of Vecna via the demobats.

“You boys said things don’t always go the same as your game, right? Do you think…does that mean…is that likely to happen, Eds?” Wayne's voice shook as he finally spoke. His worry for his nephew clear as day. 

“We’re honestly not sure.” Eddie admitted reluctantly.

“That’s why we wanted to tell everyone who might be involved as soon as possible,” Steve added.

“There’s more too. Fred, and Patrick were victims in the story, and Chrissy. I tried to get her to come with us but her boyfriend interrupted.” Eddie said, mostly to Steve since the others had been there. 

“Yeah! You should have seen it, Steve.” Dustin jumped in. “Eddie got a good shove in but then Jason punched him in the face.”

Wayne shook his head, grumbling softly, “Gonna have to call that school tomorrow. Ain’t right letting my boy get hit like that.”

“I’m fine.” Eddie insisted, catching his uncle’s eye.

“Jason Carver?” Steve asked, jaw tightening every so slightly.

Lucas nodded, answering him. 

Steve touched his fingers lightly to Eddie’s chin, examining his face carefully. “Did he hurt you?” He said softly. 

It was almost too much, the way Steve was looking at him, and a lump formed in Eddie’s throat. “I’m fine.” He forced out, hoping his voice sounded more normal than he felt. He swallowed hard and tried again. “I'll probably have a hell of a black eye later, but that’s all.” 

“So, what do we do now, what’s the plan?” Will asked.

Steve and Eddie shared a look. “We hadn’t really worked out much past telling everyone what we had figured out.”

“What about Max and Billy?” Lucas asked.

Steve frowned. “Who is she again?”

“Max is a girl the boys tried to make friends with, she and her shitty brother, Billy Hargrove, moved here the fall after you got taken.” Eddie explained.

“What do you mean, tried to make friends?” Steve asked.

“We were all hanging out at the arcade once, a few days after we met Max.  Billy showed up early to pick her up. He saw her and Lucas holding hands and he freaked out.” Dustin said. “I’m pretty sure if we weren’t in public he would have killed lucas.”

“Yeah, he said some pretty messed up stuff.” Will added.

Lucas sighed sadly. “She wouldn’t talk to us again after that.” 

Will patted him on the arm. “She doesn’t talk to anyone, Lucas. It’s not your fault.” 

“He’s right.” Mike agreed. “She always acts pissed off, but sometimes when she thinks no one is looking her eyes go all sad. I don’t think she has any friends.”

Eddie didn’t like the sound of that. “So, she’s alone, and possibly depressed.” He pointed out, looking at Steve.

“And If Henry picks his victims like you said, then…” Steve trailed off.

“She’s screwed.” Eddie finished the thought. “Do any of you dipshits know where this girl lives?”

The younger boys all shook their heads, they didn't know.

“Cherry Street.” Wayne answered out of nowhere. 

Everyone including Eddie stared at him for a moment in surprise. 

How and why the hell did Wayne, of all people, know where this girl lived?

“That boy you were talking about, the racist one? I know his old man, Neil. He’s a supervisor at the plant and a real piece of work, apple doesn’t fall far, y’know? You go get that girl, but be careful.”

Eddie gaped at his uncle. “You’re seriously on board for this?”

Wayne laughed. “As if I could stop you. You boys go, I'll handle things when Jim gets here.” He paused to check his watch. “Which should be any time now. Probably better if you stay out for a while and let me explain to him what’s going on. He’s gonna blow his stack.”

“Jonathan and I can stay and help you explain it to him, Mr. Munson. If that’s okay with you?” Nancy offered.

“It’s fine with me, and please call me Wayne.”

Steve wanted El to stay behind too. She wasn’t happy about being left out while her brother put himself in danger, but she agreed once Eddie promised to keep an eye on him for her. It was decided that the four younger boys would go along with Steve and Eddie to the Mayfield/Hargrove house, because at least she knew them a little from school, and it would be less creepy than two older boys showing up alone unannounced. 

They were getting ready to leave when there was a knock on the trailer door. Eddie, thinking it was Hopper coming early, opened it without hesitation. 

It wasn’t the police chief, it was Chrissy Cuningham. 

She started profusely apologizing the second he opened the door, but stopped abruptly in the middle of her speech and let out a loud gasp when she spotted Steve hovering behind him.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you found him!” Chrissy cried out.

Eddie took her by the hand and pulled her inside, he didn’t want to risk his neighbor overhearing anything. “Actually, he sorta found me.” Eddie told her. 

She smiled brightly at Steve and hugged him before turning back to Eddie. “Is this what you wanted to tell me?”

“This, and a lot more actually.”

Chrissy looked around, finally taking notice of just how many people were inside the small home. 

“Why don’t we take her with us?” Steve suggested. “I think I can explain it to her on the way.”

Eddie shrugged and looked at Chrissy. “You up for a little field trip?” 

-

Dustin called shotgun. Eddie would have preferred to make the trip with Steve sitting by his side, but he and Chrissy had crawled into the far rear of the van so they could talk, giving the back seat to the other boys. 

The whole way there Eddie couldn’t stop staring through the rear-view mirror at the two of them huddled together. It wasn’t a jealousy thing this time, it was the fact that Steve kept catching his eye in the reflection, and smiling in a way that would’ve made his knees give out if he wasn’t already sitting down.  

When he almost missed a turn for the second time, Dustin elbowed him hard in the side. “Eyes on the road, Romeo.” He kept his voice low enough that Eddie didn’t worry about the other boys hearing it over the music, but he still blushed and swatted at the kid’s arm. “Shut up!”

It turned out that Chrissy knew exactly where the house was, since Billy had been on the basketball team with Jason before he graduated. They parked a few doors down, trying to scope out the situation a little before going in. 

It looked like the kids' parents must be out, as the driveway was empty, but a blue camaro that Eddie knew belonged to Billy was parked out in the street. That was going to be a problem. He had known better than to hope that the girl would be home alone but he still didn’t have any idea how they were going to do this.

“What if I went up to the door and distracted him?” Chrissy offered.

“Yeah! And then we can sneak around the back and find her window or something!” Lucas said.

Eddie chewed on his thumbnail, thinking. “If me or Steve get caught sneaking in a young girl's window we’ll get arrested.” 

Honestly if they got caught doing this, getting arrested for that would be the least of their worries. 

“You two can stay here then and keep watch. We got this.” Dustin said.

Eddie didn’t like it but he didn’t have any better ideas, so he reluctantly agreed. At least it was dark out now, so the kids had a decent chance of not being seen. 

Chrissy slipped out the back door of the van, and they all watched as she walked up to the front door and rang the bell. It didn’t take long for the door to open, revealing Billy, silhouetted in the doorway by the lights inside the house. They weren’t close enough to hear what was said but just based on the guy's body language she must have been doing something right. He leaned against the doorframe with his hip, smirking at her as he listened to whatever it was she was saying. 

They didn’t know how long she’d be able to keep it up so the boys quickly spilled out, going through a neighboring backyard to come up behind Max’s house. 

With everyone else now gone, Steve climbed over the back seats and settled in next to Eddie, taking his hand right away and squeezing it. It would have been romantic, holding hands with Steve in the quiet dark, had they not been so worried about the others and what could go wrong. 

About five or ten minutes had gone by since the boys had left the van, and Billy was still happily chatting with Chrissy by the front door. Eddie should have known that things couldn’t be this easy, that something was about to go wrong. 

Out of nowhere, all of the lights in the house began to flicker wildly. Eddie’s heart sank. It had to mean what he thought it meant, there was no way it was a coincidence. They’d almost been too late, still might be if they didn’t get in there right now and try to help the poor girl.

Without a word he and Steve both leaped from the car, perfectly in sync about what needed to be done, and ran for the house. Chrissy was already looking in their direction, a panicked look on her face. Billy was distracted looking around at the blinking lights. Neither of them stopped or slowed their steps as they approached the door to the home, pushing right past a bewildered Billy and into the house beyond. He recovered quickly, following closely at their heels and shouting at them to get the fuck out of his house. 

Eddie could hear distantly that Chrissy was trying to stop him or distract him, but he couldn’t concentrate on what was being said. They needed to find the girl. 

Thankfully the house was small and the second door they tried turned out to be her bedroom. It was a crazy scene. The young redhead was standing in the middle of her room stock still, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. He could see the boys standing on the other side of the window, they were banging on the glass and shouting. It looked like she'd been walking towards the window to talk to them when the attack started.

Finally Billy fought his way into the room. Eddie was sure that under normal circumstances fists would be flying by this point, but with the lights flashing and his sister having some sort of episode, it was chaos, and the guy didn’t seem to know how to respond to it all. 

“Music right?” Steve said.

“Yeah, let’s just hope it works. Everybody look for a walkman!”

Chrissy, Steve, and Eddie started to tear the room apart as Billy continued to shout.

“What are you doing to her?! You better get the fuck out before I call the cops”

Chrissy quickly found it lying on the girl's bed half obscured beneath a throw blanket. She shoved it in Eddie's direction. He popped it open, and after all of this he was still somehow surprised to find that the tape she’d last listened to was in fact Hounds of Love by Kate Bush. He shook his head, rewinding the tape to the start of the last song that had been played before shoving the headphones over the girl’s ears. 

He heard more than saw Steve bodily shoving Billy out of the room. Eddie was worried about him getting hurt, but he had to trust that he could handle it. Eddie had his hands full trying to save this girl. Once she was okay he could worry about everything else. 

The song began, the volume loud enough that it could be heard in the room which had grown quiet in Billy's absence. When Eddie had envisioned this moment, the young girl’s first battle with Vecna, it had been to the soundtrack of Running up that Hill. Though he was a metal guy first and foremost, he enjoyed all kinds of music, and was able to appreciate Kate Bush for her theatricality. He didn’t know why that was the song his mind conjured up, had never thought to question it. That wasn’t the song that was currently blasting out of the girl’s headphones now, however Jig of Life felt more than appropriate under the circumstances. 

🎵I'll be sitting in your mirror Now is the place where the crossroads meet Will you look into the future Never, never say goodbye To my part of your life🎵

“Come on, Red. You can do this.” Eddie murmured, shaking the girl by the shoulders. He wasn’t sure if she could hear him, and even if she could, he didn't know what he could possibly say to help her fight this thing. 

🎵No, no, no, no Oh-oh-oh-oh let me live She said come on and let me live, girl She said come on and let me live, girl Come on, let me live This moment in time, she said It doesn’t belong to you”🎵

The lights stopped flickering so suddenly that it was jarring, and in the same moment Max’s eyes shot open. She gasped as if rising out of a deep pool of water, swaying on her feet, and would have fallen if Chrissy hadn’t been there to catch her. Max grabbed on to Chrissy's arms, gripping tight as her breath came in short gasps. She looked frantically around the room searching for a danger that was no longer there.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. It’s over. I got you.” Chrissy rocked the girl gently, murmuring comforting words into her hair over and over again as she fought to control her breathing.

Now that Max was free, Eddie finally tuned in to the noise happening in the rest of the house, and he could hear that the raised voices in the other room had reached a fever pitch. It wasn’t only Steve and Billy that could be heard now, but the younger boys as well. 

He locked eyes with Chrissy over Max’s head. “Stay with her, I'll be right back.”

She nodded rapidly. “Go! Help them!”

Eddie rushed out to the hallway and found everyone in the living room. Steve was in the middle of it, the only thing standing between an enraged psychopath and the four younger boys. From what he heard, it sounded like Steve had been trying to explain to Billy some of what was going on, but he was refusing to listen. Then the boys had come bursting in, and Hargrove took one look at Lucas and lost it. 

Billy had his back to Eddie, so the asshole didn't see it coming when he creeped up behind him, snatched a commemorative plate right off the wall, and smashed it over his head. Unfortunately, it didn’t knock the guy out like he had planned, but it did send him to the floor. Eddie jumped on him, holding his upper body down, while Steve quickly got the idea and took hold of his legs. Eddie yelled at the boys to find some rope or anything they could use to tie him up with. They returned quickly with a handful of zip ties and a roll of duct tape. They made it work, finishing the job off with an extra piece of tape over Billy’s mouth for good measure. 

Chrissy and Max chose that moment to come out of the young girl’s bedroom, both staring open mouthed at the scene before them.  Max’s eyes were wide but sparkled with amusement as she watched her step-brother struggle against his bonds.

“What are you going to do with him?” Chrissy asked.

“I have no idea, but at least we shut him up for now.” Steve said between heaving breaths. He sat down on the floor hard, using the hem of his shirt to dab the blood from his split lip. Eddie tried not to stare at the strip of exposed skin that the move had caused, but it was a losing battle. He knew it was fucked up to ogle the poor guy while he was bleeding, but he felt less bad about it when he realized that Steve was watching him right back, eyes full of intense desire. Apparently seeing Eddie smash a plate over some douchebag's head had really done something for him. 

Dustin cleared his throat loudly, purposefully, interrupting the moment before either of them could do or say something they might regret in front of all these people. Eddie didn’t know whether to thank him for it or throttle him. 

Lucas was the first to approach Max, the other boys following close behind him.

“Are you okay?” Lucas asked. The tender expression on the kid’s face told Eddie that his little crush on the redhead hadn’t dimmed at all since that awful night at the arcade. 

Max gave him a small smile. “I have no idea what's going on or how you and your weird friends got me out of there, but yeah, I’m okay.” She said.

Chrissy stayed by Max’s side even as the boys swooped in to try and cheer her up, the poor girl was still clinging to her hand like a lifeline.

“Maybe we should take him back to the trailer with us, Hopper should be there by now. Maybe he can hold him for something down at the police station?” Steve suggested, mostly aiming the idea at Eddie since the others were occupied. 

“That’s not a bad idea.” Eddie agreed. He offered a hand to help Steve. He took it, letting the touch linger a little longer than necessary once he was on his feet.

Eddie raised his voice to be heard over the small roar of all the younger boys talking at once. “Hey Red, you got a problem with us kidnapping your shitty stepbrother?”

“No.” Max answered quickly, then hesitated before continuing, “but uh, I don't think I want to be alone right now. Can you take me too?”

Chrissy released the girl’s hand in favor of wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she said, “I think you’d better come with us anyway so we can try to explain what’s happening to you.”

Eddie caught her eye and nodded in agreement. “We’re definitely not all going to fit in my van this time. Maybe we could take two trips?”

“One of you could drive Billy’s car. I know where his keys are.” Max supplied helpfully. Eddie was really starting to like this kid. 

Together, he and Steve managed to pick Billy up to carry him to the car, the others going out ahead to keep watch and open doors. Halfway down the front yard, their captive started thrashing violently, causing them to drop him to the ground. Luckily for Billy, the lawn was pretty lush and probably cushioned his fall well enough, though Eddie sincerely hoped he hurt something in the fall. 

They were working on getting him back up, Mike and Lucas now helping now too, when Eddie heard a rustle in the bushes separating Max’s house from her neighbor’s.

Great.

The last thing they needed right now was for some nosy housewife to spot them in the middle of - whatever this was - and call the police.

Eddie shushed the group and had them lay Billy back down on the ground. He crept over to where he’d heard the noise. It was very dark in the side yard, since Max’s house didn’t have any outside lights other than the single bulb on the porch. He squinted as he got close, trying to see if there was really someone there or if it was just a raccoon, only to get blinded as the creeper turned on a flashlight that was aimed directly in his face. 

“Jesus H. Christ,'' Eddie shouted, stepping backwards as he threw his hands up to shield his eyes, and proceeded to trip over a branch and fall flat on his ass. 

Steve was at his side quickly, making sure he was okay, and helping him up.

The mystery person with the offending flashlight had also come out of hiding. Eddie blinked a few times, trying to force his eyes to adjust. It took a second, but once they did he realized they were standing face to face with Robin Buckley.

“What are you doing?!” She asked accusingly.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Eddie insisted.

She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing the two of them curiously. “So...you don’t have Billy Hargrove trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, and you and your merry band of freshman, along with whoever else, aren't getting ready to take him and his step sister god knows where?”

Eddie sighed. “Okay, it’s exactly what it looks like, but I swear we have a really good reason.”

“We’re not trying to hurt anyone.” Steve added.

Robin tilted her flashlight up again, shining it directly in Steve's face this time. 

“Wait a second…Harrington?! I thought you were missing!” She all but shrieked.

Eddie slapped his hand over her mouth as he said, “Technically, he is still missing. It’s a long story.”

Robin glared hard and he lowered his hand for self preservation.

He turned to Steve, they hadn’t really talked about bringing Robin into things. She had mostly served as Steve’s side-kick in the game, and she wasn’t a victim of Vecna’s. She also wasn’t friends with anyone in the party, Eddie knew her from band but that was all. Now he wondered if there was some reason why, out of all the people in Hawkins, he had chosen her to be NPC-Steve’s best friend.

Steve seemed to read his mind. “You want to tell her?”

Eddie shrugged. “At this point we might as well.”

“I really love the way you’re talking about me like I'm not here, guys. Doing wonders for my belief that what you're doing has no nefarious purpose.” Robin said, clearly rolling her eyes despite the fact that they could barely see her.  

“Look, we can explain everything, but you’ll have to come with us.” 

She stared at the two of them, then looked towards the gaggle of kids behind them keeping watch over Billy. Finally, her eyes settled on Chrissy, going just a little wide as she recognized the cheerleader. 

Oh, that was interesting.

“Okay, fine.” She said. “ But if anything happens to me I will haunt your asses!.”

Chapter 10

Thank you @penny00dreadful for beta reading once again!

Taglist: @yeahhhh-suga @steddie-there @goinsteddie @brbsoulnomming @the-s-is-silent @paintsplatteredandimperfect @estrellami-1 @herebedragons404 @epiclazershark @mentallyundone @hardboiledleggs @manda-panda-monium @ellietheasexylibrarian @sofadofax @5ammi90 @bestwifehaver @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @soaringornithopter @buckleybarnes @adaed5 @goodolefashionedloverboi

As always, i'm happy to add or remove anyone from the taglist. Just let me know!

[cant-get-enough-btr-forever]

"Big Time Battle of the Bands", Chapter 16: Big Time Celebration

The next evening, Logan entered 2J to find James sitting at the counter, reading a magazine. To his surprise, a cardboard display sat on the counter.

"James? What...when did..." Logan began, at a loss for words.

James sighed as he looked up. "Look. I'm sorry for being a jerk before. You were right—it's Big Time Rush, not 'James Diamond and the Rush.'"

Logan shuffled his feet, but he couldn't help smiling a little. "Hey, man, it's cool. You were...we were...just helping out in our own way."

James took a deep breath and continued, "Anyway, I realized yesterday how great teaming up can be, so..." He nudged the display forward. "...ta-da."

Logan took a closer look. It was the display for his and James' school project. Apparently, James had spent all day working on the thing. He thumbed the colorful little patterns and cut-out letters. "Wow, James, this is actually really gre—" One of the letters fell off.

James flushed slightly. Logan cleared his throat and smiled. "Hey, you know what? Teamwork is great, so I'm gonna help you tweak it a little." James nodded sheepishly.

The pair stopped and looked around. There seemed to be a muffled, bass-y beat coursing through the walls.

"Uh...do you hear that?" Logan inquired. James nodded, still glancing around. Kendall and Carlos suddenly rushed out of their rooms.

"I smell..." Carlos began, eyes huge.

"PARTY!!" they cried. They made a mad dash for the door, slamming it behind them.

......

Sure enough, when they skidded to a stop in the pool area, the place looked like a nightclub. Just about every kid in the building was dancing, laughing, and chatting around the pool. Dozens of color-changing lights had been strung up, and a DJ was blasting hits from his scratch table. A huge snack table had even been set up...by none other than Katie. She waved from behind the table. The guys dazedly waved back.

They stared, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. "I’m getting major déjà vu right now." Kendall said. The others agreed, "Same here..."

The classily dressed girls of Cross My Heart approached them. They looked amused.

"What? You thought you were the only ones who could organize an event of epic proportions?" Chloe wryly asked.

James gasped, "Whoa...you did all this?"

"Yeah, we're so happy that the Palmwoods has been saved. We raised over five million, guys. That's...that's more fulfilling than anything I could've imagined." Jessica admitted.

Elena added, "So, we decided to throw a bash to celebrate. An after-party, if you will. We contacted a few people, and this is the result." She held out her arms, beaming.

"And it was so sweet of you guys to get us a deal at Rocque Records. Consider this a 'thank you.' Gustavo seems way nicer than Hawk ever was." remarked Chloe.

The guys shared a knowing smirk. "No problem. You can't get much...nicer than Gustavo Rocque." Kendall chuckled.

"Just don't interrupt him while he's writing songs." Logan quickly advised.

"Or ask for more than three off-days a month." James tacked on.

"Or have a trampoline tournament in his studio." Carlos wisely cautioned. The girls looked bemused, but the rest of the guys were nodding.

A loud gasp escaped Carlos’ mouth. "Oh...you installed a Swirly Water Slide?!" he shrieked, jabbing his forefinger at the pool.

"Sure did!” laughed Mikee, who was back to her trademark ponytail. “Wanna test it out?"

Without hesitating, Carlos ripped off his shirt and pants. The other guys' mouths fell open: He was wearing swimming trunks.

"I'll...take that as a yes." Mikee said, looking rather flustered. "In that case..." She tugged off her scarlet sundress, revealing an equally red bathing suit underneath. Carlos goggled for a moment, but shook himself quickly. Together, they made a beeline for the slide.

Jessica stepped forward. "By the way, I'm sorry for not listening to you." she sheepishly said, looking up at James.

James gave a dismissive scoff. "Hey, Jess, it's cool! Trust me, I wouldn't have believed me, either. That Hawk was one heck of a nutcase."

She continued, "Couldn't agree more. I also wanted to thank you...for saving me and my friends."

"Oh, well, you know, that was...nothing, really. Just your garden-variety rescue operation." James assured, waving his hand. But he was grinning.

Jessica moved closer, smiling. "It was amazing."

He swallowed. "Uh, well, it was actually Kendall who was driving the motorcycle, so I guess, when you think about it, it—"

He was silenced by her lips meeting his. The rest of the gang awkwardly shifted and looked in different directions, trying not to notice what was going on in front of them.

Once the pair had separated, Jessica giggled at James' dopey expression. "C'mon, Loverboy, let's dance! This is my jam!" she laughed, grabbing his hand. James stumbled a bit as he ran with her, but when he looked back at the group, he shrugged.

The four remaining members grinned back and gave him lighthearted thumbs-ups. "Things could not have turned out better." Kendall remarked as he pulled Chloe closer.

Logan, who had Elena tucked into his side, agreed, "You can say that again." He frowned. "But I wonder whatever happened to Hawk?"

......

At the Hollywood Palladium, an audience of thousands was screaming for a show. Lights flashed from the rafters. From behind the velvet curtain stepped four young women...

...except, they weren't women at all. Hawk and his three Hawk-men had acquired wigs, makeup, and dresses. They were also carrying instruments: two guitars, a drum, and a tambourine.

"Hi, everybody! I'm Jessica of Crozz My Heart!" Hawk squeaked in an ear-piercingly "feminine" voice. He shook his yellowish-brown bangs out of his eyes. "And these are my girls, Chloe, Elena, and Mikee!" The miserable henchmen death-glared at their boss.

He strummed a screechy note on his guitar and began singing a god-awful number. His men clumsily played along.

Everyone in the crowd covered their ears and stared in horror. With a tumultuous yell, they tossed their water bottles at the faux-band.

The henchmen immediately took the opportunity to make a run for it. Hawk, on the other hand, was steadfast. Two policemen burst onto the stage and grabbed him by his arms.

“Ow! Hey—you—get your meat hooks off me!!” he shouted. They kicked open the stage door, dragged his thrashing form across the lot, and cuffed him against the police car.

“Mr. Hawk, you are under arrest for leaving the scene of a vehicle collision, stealing clothes from a donation drop box, and—” The policeman pulled off Hawk’s wig and stared at it in disgust. “—impersonation.”

Hawk scoffed impudently. “You can’t prove any of that.”

The second policeman simply held up a tablet. Displayed on the screen was a video of Hawk and his men. They were plainly digging through the scattered piles of donated clothes, which had been thrown every which way by their wrecked limo.

“I think the surveillance cameras beg to differ, wouldn't you say?” the policeman remarked to Hawk, who looked outraged.

"NO, NO!! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!!" he hollered as they shoved him into the car. "I AM THE HAWK! THIS IS NOT OVER! CAW-CA—" His shouts were cut off by the door slamming.

......

Kendall, Chloe, Logan, and Elena shivered.

"Uh...you know what? He's not worth thinking about." Kendall declared.

"Agreed. So, how about that dance, cutie?" Chloe asked, nudging him playfully.

"I don't know, Chloe. How do the geniuses feel about hittin' the floor?" Kendall joked, turning to Logan and Elena.

Logan winked at Elena, who blushed as red as Mikee's swimsuit. "Let's go!" they laughed.

And with that, the four of them ran to join James and Jessica in the wildly moving crowd, dodging the splashes of Carlos and Mikee.

The End

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 2, "A Strange Sort of Bard"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Lae’zel joins the group and expresses her belief that their only salvation is a githyanki crèche. Shadowheart expresses her concerns about the newest member of their troop to Áine. The group settles down to camp for the night and mingle and misstep around each other as only new companions can. Astarion begins to formulate how he can best secure some form of protection while he outruns his past.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Lightly proofread; vague mentions of Cazador's past treatment of Astarion (content, possible spoilers); brief suggestive dialogue

Word Count: 5.1k

Listening to: Vampire Smile - Kyla La Grange

“Chk, you presume to rest while these worms in our heads will do no such thing? While they writhe and squirm until they peel our skin back to reveal new ghaik?”

Áine sighed and tried not to let Lae’zel’s charming way with words get to her more than it needed to. There was little she could do. Not only was she exhausted, she’d seen the others begin to drag as well by the time they’d gotten the githyanki warrior down from the hunter’s snare and away from the tieflings preparing to kill her. 

Or try to, anyway. Áine had a feeling they wouldn’t have been the victors of that fight based solely on what she’d seen on the Nautiloid and felt in her mind’s eye when Lae’zel had connected their parasites earlier on. White-hot rage that burned even more brightly than her own. 

“Yes, Lae’zel,” she sighed again, “I presume to rest. We’re useless if we’re exhausted.”

“A weakling’s rationale,” she snipped in disapproval. “Fine. We will make camp, but I will be taking the first watch. Should I see a single tentacle split your skull, I will not hesitate to end you.”

“Good,” Áine said. “I wouldn’t want you to hesitate if I’m that progressed. I swear to you I’m not interested in becoming a mind flayer.”

Lae’zel was as satisfied as she could be by that, even respected Áine’s response somewhat. Most would do anything to dodge death’s downsweeping ax, even hide their condition at the expense of their allies. Lae’zel saw that as a coward’s response and was starting to consider that, despite her insistence upon sleep, perhaps this Áine was no coward.

Still her plans of action bothered Lae’zel and if she were to travel with the group in good conscience, she had one more thing to assert. 

When she crouched down near Áine, who was hunched over some tinder and striking a fire, Áine looked up at her. She met the gith’s eyes and, on contact, they bore into hers in a way Áine thought was perhaps meant to cow her. It wouldn’t work if so, but it was equally possible that this was how intense Lae’zel was all the time. Either way, she didn’t take it personally. “Yes?” she asked encouragingly.

“You think the Grove our best course of action for the removal of these ghaik tadpoles,” Lae’zel stated, one of her hands mirroring her pointed cadence with sharp, quick gestures. It was both fascinating and a little unnerving. “Our best hope of purification is a crèche. Each day we waste without seeking the aid of my people is another day we lose to the worm.”

Áine offered her a small smile and said, “Understood. The Grove is closer for now, so it makes sense to me to go there first. While we’re there, we can ask Zorru about where he saw more githyanki. If the Grove’s healer is able to get rid of our parasites, then fantastic, but if not we can work on our other lead for the crèche.” Her voice was gentle but firm. Over Lae’zel’s shoulder, Áine spotted Shadowheart glaring in their direction. Camp politics… Definitely didn’t miss this, she thought, swallowing a sigh.

“Chk, fine…,” Lae’zel grumbled, straightening up. “Your intentions carry logic. Just remember that ceremorphosis will not. And it can begin its onslaught at any moment.”

“Understood,” Áine said again, and that was enough for Lae’zel to finally leave her to getting a fire going, the petite, wiry githyanki stalking over to where one of the extra tents they’d scavenged the previous day lay waiting. 

She felt eyes on her still and kept her own eyes glued to the flint in her hands as a result, not inviting further conversation until she had a few things done. She needed to set up a tent for herself, or at least pop a bedroll down by the fireside if a tent felt like too much work. Her energy was waning and she was on nearly three nights with little to no sleep, so this rest was much needed as long as she actually rested during it. 

Áine had a feeling she wasn’t the only one having a bit of a sleepless streak. Gale had been a veritable grump toward the last leg of their journey before they stopped again. Shadowheart had seemed weary but overall in fine spirits until they’d come across Lae’zel again. Astarion was uncharacteristically quiet come sundown, which was when she’d finally taken stock of the party’s overall mood and suggested they make camp.

A spark flew from her next strike of the flint and finally caught on a bit of the tinder she’d collected, and she guarded the tiny flame against the nightly wind until it grew large enough to sustain itself, eventually engulfing the woodpile. 

Áine sat back and ran her hands over her face, eventually just pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. Her head hurt and it didn’t feel like it had much at all to do with the tadpole so much as the stress of carrying it. And perhaps carrying the others’ expectations on her shoulders too. She hadn’t signed up to be the leader of their growing troop, but a leader she was and she felt that pressure like a boot heel resting on her neck.

“Are you alright?” It would seem Áine was having sighs for a meal today as she swallowed another one and opened her eyes to look up at Gale now standing near the fire. “Aside from the obvious, of course?”

Áine dropped her hands into her lap and gave a lift of her shoulders. “Sure. Are you?”

“I’d like to think so,” he said, the concern lingering on his face. At least he seemed in a slightly better mood now that they’d stopped. “I can handle dinner if you’d like to go rest or check on the others or whatever you’d like to do. You could even see about fixing up that lyre we found.”

Áine smiled, appreciating that he was trying to be helpful. “Thank you, Gale. Just shout if you need any assistance, yeah?”

“Will do,” he chuckled. “I do enjoy cooking though, so it’s my pleasure to take charge of that for as long as we journey together.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” she said, standing and brushing off her trousers as she left the fireside to find her pack and decide how she was going to handle her sleeping arrangements. 

Nearby, over the edge of a book he’d plucked from a decrepit wagon in their day’s travels, Astarion eyed their leader’s conversation with Gale and her retreat to set up her tent, he imagined. There was a chance that they would be “relieved” of their tadpoles on the morrow, which on the front of the ceremorphosis threat was a good thing. However he was less and less sure that he wanted his own parasite gone just yet. 

Thus far, it had proven to hold more pros for him than cons—the ugly little thing was changing the rules of his existence for the better and after 200 years of torture and blood-based fetch quests for a sire he abhorred. Where no one had answered his prayers for help in those two excruciating centuries of pain and rot, the mind flayer ship had set him free. He’d be a fool not to try to capitalize on this as much as he possibly could. 

Keeping the parasite was one option, the better one as far as he was concerned, even if it did threaten to turn him into a tentacled monster at any given moment. He had more autonomy this way, something he’d not felt a breath of for as long as he could remember. However, if he was relieved of the parasite and had to return to the shadows, he would be even more at a loss for what he could do to remain out of Cazador’s clutches. Regardless, he’d need some measure of protection and would remain firmly unsettled until he got it.

Careful crimson eyes roved across the campsite, calculating the usefulness of his new travel companions. He knew what he had to trade—arguably the only thing he was good at. The question was which one of them would crumble most easily? He already had a sense of that, but opted to weigh his options in full, even just for fun.

Gale was tragically heterosexual as far as he could tell. He had a feeling he could have pretty easily manipulated the man otherwise with a simple stroke of the ego. Astarion’s presumed skill set required more than that though—to feel at ease, he needed whomever he got his hooks into to feel locked in. It was the only way to guarantee him some form of protection. Not only that, but Gale was already all but ogling each female member of their party sans the githyanki, who would happily flay him with minimal encouragement. Thus, Gale was out. 

Next was Lae’zel. He’d had the least amount of time to try learning to read her so far, but he felt he could at least mostly take what he saw of her at face value. She didn’t keep her cards close to her chest. In fact, she took the whole proverbial deck of cards and threw them on the floor whenever she didn’t like the game. He could respect that, but he doubted he could manipulate that and make it out in one piece, which was kind of the point. Bloodthirsty and fun as she seemed, she was too dangerous a gamble.

Shadowheart had crossed his mind. She had secrets to uncover and when seduction and sex alone weren’t enough to hold someone in place, knowing their secrets could be an invaluable asset. If he was any good at gauging age as well, she was young by their kind’s standards, even as a half-elf. In fact, she was around the age he’d been when he died the first time, only to be brought back up through a clawed path of congealed blood and dirt to surface at Cazador’s feet. Reflecting on how naïve he’d been even then, even after spending nearly 40 years out in the world—or at least in the pocket of the world that Baldur’s Gate occupied—even after working his way through his schooling to gain his position as magistrate. She seemed to hold some of that naïveté, but she also seemed hellbent on whatever mission was taking her back to the city. She was already on guard for anything to sway her from her destination. And while her healing abilities were strong and had already proven extremely useful in just the short time they’d all banded together, he lacked confidence in her ability to actually fight out of formation, something he might very well need on his side.

Which left…

Astarion’s borderline predatory eyes slid back toward Áine, bent over her bag and rummaging through its contents. The braid Shadowheart had put in her hair that morning had become a bit mussed throughout their day, but it became her, he decided. Wisps of pearly strands flying free from their binds, a few even dropping to frame her face. He was far from admitting it, but had his decision been purely on the criteria of looks, she would’ve been his first choice. Despite his earlier assessment of her that included in his own words “eyes the color of dirt,” he would’ve had to have been blind to not think she was lovely to look upon. More than that, however, he’d seen her fight. She could handle herself better than all of them, except perhaps Lae’zel, who he had yet to see in combat. And yet there was something soft about her that Astarion could see becoming easily malleable beneath his practiced, plying fingers.

No, protecting her flank in the occasional fight wasn’t enough. He needed to endear her to him.

Decision made, Astarion’s gaze flickered back down to his book. Across the way, Áine finally found what she was rummaging for—the little tin in which she kept her mint leaves. She popped the lid and inhaled deeply, pulling the spicy scent deep into her sinuses to try and stave off the throb in her head. It helped one blessed increment, and she slipped a sprig past her lips to bite down on as she replaced the tin and stood up, turning straight into Shadowheart standing next to her.

“Oh my goodness,” Áine startled, her gasp becoming an embarrassed chuckle. “I didn’t even see you there. Everything alright?”

“You tell me,” Shadowheart said, and Áine was surprised to hear a peeved edge to her voice. When Áine cocked a brow at her, Shadowheart elaborated in a lowered tone, “What were you two talking about?”

Áine frowned, glancing over Shadowheart’s head toward Lae’zel and Gale separately before she returned her attention to Shadowheart. “...Me and who?”

“You and Lae’zel,” she said, seeming to think she’d caught Áine in some sort of deception. “You should tread lightly on who you confide in… Especially her. She seems to take your kindness for weakness.”

Áine’s eyes narrowed and she said, “I haven’t ‘confided’ in anyone. She was expressing her opinions about finding a crèche being our best option and I was listening and expressing my own in return.”

“It eludes me why you’re being so…so good-natured towards her,” the cleric said, her tone harsh despite the anxiety Áine saw in her eyes.

On seeing that worry, Áine forced her shoulders to relax their tension, reminding herself that most of their negative reactions to things at the moment came from a place of fear, hers included. If she was going to be the diplomatic center of the group, she had to keep herself in check when the others couldn’t. “Because,” Áine said, her voice barely above a whisper, “she’s just scared. We’re all just scared. Her way of showing it is different from ours, your way is different from mine, and so on. She thinks she’s doing what’s best when she tries to strongarm me into a different route.”

“Is that what you think,” Shadowheart half-laughed, floored by Áine’s logic. Her jaw worked for a moment until she finally felt her own hackles slack as well. “Fine. Just be on your guard. With everyone, but especially her. Fair?”

“Fair,” Áine said. “Besides, we may only have one more night of this if this healer at the Grove can help us out with our little problems. One step at a time.”

Shadowheart nodded, loath to admit Áine was right even though she knew she was. “Indeed.”

Out of curiosity, Áine asked, “What will you do? If we end up cured tomorrow?”

Shadowheart’s brows rose. “Why do you ask?”

Áine laughed. “Just making conversation. Trying to get to know the people around me, even if I might never see them again after tomorrow.”

“What’s important about getting to know me?” Shadowheart asked, guarded.

Áine smiled and shook her head. “Nevermind. I can take a hint, and you don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

It was the cleric’s turn to smile, but it held a faint sneering edge. “I appreciate your discretion. All things with time, no? Although I do hope we run out of time for that tomorrow, only for the hope that we can get these awful things out of our heads.”

“I can’t disagree,” Áine said, leaning down and hooking her fingers through the handle of her newfound, but near-busted lyre. “I’m feeling hopeful.”

Shadowheart nodded. “I am as well, hinging on cautious optimism as always.”

They parted ways when Áine meandered back toward the fireside, setting the lyre in her lap and setting to “fixing” it as much as she could, never having held a lyre before. Experimentally, she plucked the strings, adjusting their tension whenever she found one too lax or too tight. The others’ footsteps and voices faded into the background, and she vaguely heard Gale announce that the stew he’d been working on was done, which was when the ambient camp sounds coalesced more closely around her. 

Shadowheart sat down near her by the fire, thanking Gale when she was handed a bowl of stew and immediately beginning to refuel her famished body. Lae’zel accepted Gale’s offering of dinner, but took it back to her tent where she was running a whetstone along the edge of her longsword, something Áine gathered already was an evening ritual for her. 

Astarion was better prepared this time when he was offered a meal, barely looking up from his book when Gale called over to him and holding up a half-”eaten” apple in response that he’d really just taken chunks out of with his dagger before flicking them into the brush. If he was going to manage his little plan past its early stages, he needed to keep certain things under wraps for as long as he could. After all, no one took well to a vampire.

He kept an eye on the party near the fire, his eyes honing in on what was surely an intentional brush of hands on Gale’s part when he handed Áine her dinner. Astarion measured Áine’s response to the casual touch, but if it bothered or delighted her, he couldn’t tell. She simply thanked the unsubtle wizard and went back to her tinkering. Interesting.

Decisively, Astarion tossed the remnants of his prop apple into the brush nearby, his other hand snapping his book shut and setting it near his bedroll as he rose to his feet and made his way to the group at the fire. He dropped down into a seat beside Áine, not too close for her to be startled but for her to know in no uncertain terms if she gave it any thought that he’d chosen to sit beside her. The game was on and he was its star player.

“Nice of you to join us,” Áine teased him, her tone gentle and unoffending. 

“Change your mind about something to eat?” Shadowheart asked.

“Just the fruit for me tonight,” he said, although he noticed his senses instinctively tuning in to the rhythmic pulse of the bard beside him. Another problem. I’ll need to hunt one night soon, he thought, the consideration a bit daunting. He and his siblings had been limited to bugs and rats by their oh-so-generous master, so the idea of feeding from something more substantial was both thrilling and daunting. Could he even hunt? 

The worry almost steered him in the direction of trying some of Gale’s concoction, even though he knew just from an earlier nibble of the apple he’d prepared that nothing but blood would sate him now. The crisp, white flesh of the fruit held a sweet memory far, far back in his mind, but it had tasted like ash in his mouth. Useless to his dark, twisted biology.

He was brought back to the present by some absent plucking of the strings beside him, quiet and uncertain. Astarion’s gaze shifted down to Áine’s delicate, nimble hands, just as careful and hesitant as the sounds she was producing from the shabby little lyre in her lap. It seemed that it was a new instrument for her. Either that or she was positively terrified of breaking the thing, but it did seem like her “playing” fell more into the realm of experimental plucking. Her features were taut with focus, comfortably in her own little world—it was almost charming.

Astarion was saved from buying into his own charade any further by a surprisingly flippant comment from Shadowheart. “What a strange sort of bard you are to not know how to play a lyre properly,” she said with a smug smile to Áine that faltered when the bard in question blushed with chagrin. Clearly Shadowheart had expected Áine to laugh or even start strumming the instrument with unveiled expertise at her goading. The result was instead awkward and worthy of a record scratch.

“I should have stayed at my tent,” Astarion mumbled, rolling his eyes up to regard the stars as he rested his chin against his hand.

“I’m sorry, Áine,” Shadowheart said, a second-hand flush staining her cheeks as she grew increasingly embarrassed at her own comment. “It was meant to be a joke and my delivery was…well, it wasn’t there at all, was it.”

Áine gave Shadowheart a kind smile and waved off her apology. “It’s fine. And it’s fair as well,” she said, her hands having stilled on the lyre strings. “I really only know my way around a flute. And can hold a cheery tune, of course, but neither do much for trying a stringed instrument for the first time.”

“Well, we’ll simply have to keep a weather eye out for any new instruments in our looting escapades henceforth,” Gale suggested. “I’m hopeful we have our wriggler problem solved tomorrow in the Grove, but if not then we’ll have plenty of downtime in which you can branch out and learn. If you want to, of course.”

A sweet, appreciative smile curved Áine’s lips and she awarded that smile to Gale as she said, “That sounds like a lovely idea.”

Astarion kicked himself for not arriving at the idea before Gale had the chance to speak it aloud.

“Then it’s settled,” Gale said, smiling back at her. Astarion bristled. “Right, I’ll get started on the cleanup.”

“I can do it tonight, Gale,” Shadowheart said, still looking a little uncomfortable. “Take it as my apology for killing the suppertime mood a little.”

“It really is okay, Shadowheart, you didn’t hurt my feelings,” Áine assured her, “Takes a little more than that.”

Shadowheart smiled. “You’re much too gracious. Still, I’d like something productive to do for the group tonight. And then Gale can have a chance to set up his tent and get settled.”

“You’re under no obligation, of course, but I do appreciate it,” Gale said, standing and leaving the fire after Shadowheart gave him a nod to go ahead. Shadowheart collected the bowls and the pot from the fireside, scraped clean from first and second helpings, and made her way down to the shoreline nearby to scrub them clean and give herself some time to decompress. 

Áine was glad that Gale liked cooking as much as he did because now that he had enough ingredients and the few spices they’d found to work with, his creations were quite tasty. It made settling down for the night, even with their affliction, seem a little cozier. She couldn’t help but worry a bit about Shadowheart though—she was being awfully hard on herself, but maybe that meant that she honored the growing friendship between them if she felt sorry for possibly hurting Áine’s feelings. 

And the truth was that it had hurt, just a quick twinge. More than anything it had reminded her how new to this calling, this way of life she was. How much she still had to learn. An exhilarating and frightening feeling all at once.

Áine noted that Lae’zel had been left with her dirtied bowl by her tent and something bordering irritation stirred in her at that, but she squashed it. It was highly possible in her embarrassment, Shadowheart had simply forgotten their newest companion. Although she couldn’t convince herself that even if she had remembered, that she’d have extended that kindness tonight.

She was pondering Shadowheart’s earlier tone when speaking to her of Lae’zel when her eyes shifted sideways and she remembered Astarion was next to her still. And…well, seeming quite comfortable, she supposed.

Áine had seen him stretch out before, usually when he was taking in the sun’s first morning rays wherever they landed, but that was much like a cat. The way he held himself now, relaxed but poised, felt more panther-ish. Predatory.

Her eyes shifted up to meet his and confirmed he was already staring at her almost-staring at him. A self-assured smile curved his lips. The cat—no, still panther—that ate the canary. “Erm… Hi?” she said, suddenly very aware that it was just them left at the fire.

“Well, hello,” he greeted her in kind. Alarm bells went off in the back of her mind. Charming as he was, this was an unnerving switch from the moods she’d seen from him thus far. Then again, he’d shown quite an array. Maybe he was delirious from a lack of sleep as well. “And what can I do for you?”

Áine laughed a little. She should be asking him that with the way he was looking at her, but she was wary of offering an inch at the moment lest he take a mile. “Let’s go with a general update. How are things?” she suggested.

“How are ‘things’?” he repeated, suddenly less certain. 

“Yes, how are you feeling? How are you adjusting?” Áine elaborated as she slowly started to fiddle with her lyre again. “Feeling at all tentacley or craving a post-apple brain?”

Astarion snorted, relaxing back into his lounging posture. So she wanted to small-talk—he could do that. And look like a veritable god doing it if he held himself just so and at this particular angle by the firelight… 

While his body settled seamlessly into old practices, he answered her questions. “As well as I could be, considering our…predicament. No tentacles to be seen and no inclination to suck on a skull,” he reported. A neck though… 

He was sorely reminded yet again that he needed to hunt. Perhaps not tonight, but soon.

Áine, none the wiser to his actual cravings, smiled beside him, amused by his wording. “Well, that’s good,” she said, looking up briefly as Shadowheart returned with their cleaned bowls and cooking pot, setting them back near the rest of their neutral cargo before she made her way to her tent. Her gaze flicked back to Astarion, who seemed deep in thought. “Something else on your mind then?”

He hid his startle well at being read. But internally it unnerved him how much she could already see. He tried to reframe that in his mind as something else to use to his advantage. At that moment, he decided to test her a little, get an early read on how much work he had yet to do. 

Astarion’s pale lips curved into the most charming, sensual smile Áine had ever seen, or at least had ever been the target of. She was surprised that she didn’t see yellow feathers between his pearly teeth when he flashed them her way. 

He heard her pulse drum ever-so slightly faster and took the cue. “This whole night—the stars, the night air, the firelight—got me thinking what tomorrow might bring… When we meet this healer tomorrow that the tieflings spoke of so highly, will this little adventure of ours be over?”

Áine frowned, but it was thoughtful. “I mean I suppose so,” she said, uncertain of what he was getting at. Teasingly, she suggested, “Why, would you miss me?”

“Well, why not?” Astarion tossed back. “You’re stronger than I gave you credit for—traversing Avernus, surviving the crash, fighting your way through the dangers we’ve faced thus far, and talking your way out of more earlier today. Those are all monumental feats.”

Áine cocked her head. “You did all those things too, you know. So did the others. I’m just trying to survive. Like you.” 

He scoffed with little more than a fleeting glance spared for the others, all retired to their tents in some form or another. “I suppose. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t find very many people impressive,” he said, snaring her gaze in his again with one flick of his shocking red eyes. “But you’ve impressed me.”

Áine gave him a long, considerate look, and he could almost hear the wheels of her mind spinning a yarn. Just as he’d started to settle into some satisfaction that he’d rendered her speechless, she asked, “Right, what’s going on?”

Astarion’s eyes widened, but blinked innocently. Nothing innocent about him, she decided then. “I daresay I don’t know what you mean, darling,” he drawled, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “Can’t a man lavish his striking companion with her due admiration?”

Áine snorted softly and simply responded with a smirk of her own, “Watch yourself, Astarion.”

“Oh, alright,” he groused, and Áine laughed at how immediately his little façade broke. “But my name does sound so good on your lips, my dear.” Maybe the façade wasn’t quite as broken as she thought.

Áine rolled her eyes, but the expression was good-natured as ever. “Don’t you have a reverie to sink into?”

“I have other things I’d rather sink into if it’s all the same,” Astarion purred.

“It’s not, in fact, all the same,” Áine rallied back, firm but patient. 

The smile still lingered on her lips, he noticed and he found himself restrategizing accordingly. So she would be tougher to crack than he’d wagered, but even without encouraging his advances, she seemed to find some enjoyment in this itself as a sort of game. And, in all honesty, he was having a bit of fun, too. This, he could work with. 

“Well, in that case, I’m afraid reverie or sleep are out of my grasp tonight,” he admitted and his honesty recaptured her attention. “This is all still…very new to me. The sounds around us, the quiet in comparison to the bustle I’m used to from the city. It’s nice, but it’s something to adjust to.”

Áine nodded. “I understand what you mean. Sleep has been tough for me to come by as well. 

Astarion turned another smile on her, this one with only half the earlier smolder. “Then you’d best get some rest, ‘fearless leader’,” he said, his voice soft. 

“Well, I would, but I didn’t set up a tent for myself and you’re sat on the bedroll I was planning to use,” Áine pointed out, mirroring his honeyed tone almost perfectly.

That earned a low chuckle from the pale elf beside her, the way his gaze dropped to the bedroll he was indeed sitting upon and the sheepish half-smile that followed a wordless “touché” to her claims. He lifted his head and nodded past her. “Go on and take mine. I’ll be of more use on watch tonight with Lae’zel, or instead of her if she opts for some rest in the night,” he said.  

Áine’s brow creased, surprised at his generosity even if it was a small gesture. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, if you’d prefer, we could both entangle ourselves in this one—”

“Nevermind, point taken,” she swiftly said, her words on the edge of an exasperated laugh as she rose to her feet, taking her lyre with her. “Thank you. And goodnight, Astarion.”

Astarion watched her go, eyes a little more tender the moment her back was turned, a detail unbeknownst to them both. “Sweet dreams, darling.”

Next chapter: Chapter 3, "Swan Songs"

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Morning is Sure to Come

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Thirty-Four

A JSE Fanfic

A lot of stuff happens in this one, and I'm not really sure how to describe it. Chase talks with his kids some more, and then falls asleep and has another dream with Jack, where he learns some more about the situation that was revealed last time. And meanwhile, Henrik, Jackie, and Marvin are getting close to Suilthair and scouting it out, looking for Chase and Jameson. Huh. Guess it wasn't as difficult as I thought. Anyway, with the summary done, I'll leave you to it. Enjoy! :D

Previous Part | | From the Start | More AU

Taglist: @brokentimewatch

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Two more days, and Chase and Jameson were still stuck hiding in the abandoned boathouse. They passed the time with Chase giving Jameson lessons on some combat maneuvers. It was strange without actual weapons, but Jameson appreciated it nonetheless. Surprisingly, he remembered a lot of these moves, either from his time at Wyvernlair or his youth when he was learning self-defense. But he was a bit rusty actually going through the motions.

“There has to be somewhere to get weapons in the city,” Chase muttered. “At this point, I think I can go out without too much suspicion. If I’m careful and come right back.”

Do you have any money? Jameson asked. I don’t, and I know weapons shops have high security.

“Damn. You’re right. It’s too risky to steal them. I could ask Amabel for money—no, I don’t want to do that.” Chase shook his head. “She’d probably take it from Stacia, a-and she might get in trouble, and I don’t want that.”

It’s fine, Jameson said. We’re doing well enough without them.

“For now,” Chase muttered. “Eventually we need to find a way off this island. And when we make our escape, we need to be prepared for a fight.”

Even though they couldn’t go out into town to get weapons, Chase started going around for other reasons. Gathering more information, mostly. Trying to find that way out of Suilthair. If there was one good thing about the week he wasted wandering around the city, it was that he developed a reputation. The common folk recognized him. They knew he was one of them and that the biggest danger he posed to anyone was asking for money. There was no reason to report someone like him to the royal warriors. He was pretty harmless in their eyes. Chase still had to worry about avoiding patrols, but at least he didn’t have to worry about everything.

Unfortunately, nobody he talked to knew of any way out of Suilthair besides the ferry. They were all quite insistent on that. Chase wondered if this was, perhaps, caused by the King’s enchantment influence. Maybe by making people want to stay in the city, he made them forget anything besides the official ferries? But surely there had to be smugglers or something. Who was he supposed to ask about that? Probably people who were more dangerous than the average cityfolk. Were they desperate enough to do that yet? No... maybe not. But in a couple more days, they might be.

Amabel continued to stop by every morning and evening. Chase was always happy to see her, even if he was getting more and more worried. If she kept doing this, someone would eventually notice where she was going. “Amy, are you sure this is safe?” he asked. 

“Mm-hmm.” Amabel nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Chase said hesitantly. “But if it gets too dangerous, if people see you come here, I want you to stop.”

Amabel blinked. “Huh? No, I’m not gonna stop.”

“Amabel, I’m serious,” Chase said firmly. “What me and Jameson are doing is really dangerous, we don’t want you caught up in it.”

“You haven’t even told me what it’s all about!”

“Because you’re safer if you don’t know anything,” Chase said. He paused for a moment, trying to think about a way to explain that there was a chance the King could hear her thoughts if she got in too much trouble. “The people we’re up against have ways—magical ways—to find stuff out, even if you’re very, very careful. But if you really don’t know what they’re talking about, then they can’t do anything.”

Amabel stared at him. “Do you mean they’d hurt me?”

Chase was quiet for a moment. He didn’t want to tell his daughter that yes, the people out there would hurt her. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.” When the King sent the warriors to their home, they didn’t kill the children. But he wasn’t sure if that was because the King—or, the spirit controlling the King, as he had to remind himself—really didn’t want to cross that line, or if it was simply because he was focusing on eliminating the adult man who would defeat him one day.

Amabel was also quiet upon hearing that. Then she nodded. “Okay. I promise I’ll stop coming to see you if I think people see me. I don’t want anything to happen to Quentin or Mom without me.”

Chase gives her a small, sad smile. “You know you don’t have to be responsible for them, right?”

“Yeah, but... I wanna be there,” Amabel said slowly. “To, uh... Because...” She trailed off, unable to put words to the feelings she had.

Because you care about them? Jameson asked.

“Yea! Thank you, uh, Mr. Jameson,” Amabel said. “Oh. Dad. Quentin wants to come by tomorrow morning. Remember, you said I could bring him?”

“O-of course I remember,” Chase said. “Be very careful, it’ll be worse if both of you get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” Amabel promised.

“Okay. In that case, I’ll see both of you tomorrow.”

The rest of that day passed without much of note, and tomorrow morning, Jameson shook Chase awake a bit earlier than normal. Your children are coming, he said, pointing to the ajar boathouse door.

Chase got up quickly and opened the door fully. It was a cloudy day today, but not gloomy. Even with the weak early morning light he could clearly see Amabel walking down the wooden walkway towards the boathouse, holding her brother’s hand in hers. Quentin waved at Chase, smiling when he saw him, and almost shouted a greeting before Amabel leaned close and murmured something to him.

Your children are both so cute, Jameson said, smiling.

��Hah. Thanks. Quentin takes more after his mother, y’know. He has her hair exactly.”

The kids walked up to the boathouse door, and the moment they were inside Quentin shouted, “DAD!” and tackled Chase in a hug.

“Whoa!” Chase pretended to stumble back from the force of the hug, then laughed and leaned down to hug his son. “Hey, Quen. Wow, you’ve gotten so much bigger and stronger.”

“Really?!” Quentin beamed. He looked over at Jameson. “Hi! Bellie says your name is Jameson and you speak in hands. Is that true?!”

Jameson chuckled silently and nodded. Can you understand me?

“Uh... I think you asked if I know handspeak, and I mean, a little. Bellie is better at it.”

“That’s me.” Amabel raised her hand.

Thank you, young lady, I did think that’s what he meant.

“Heh.” Amabel grinned.

“I’m so happy to see you, Dad!” Quentin squeezed him tighter.

“I’m so happy to see you, too.” Chase wrapped his arms around Quentin and lifted him into the air, causing him to shriek with delight. He was a bit too big for this to be easy, but Chase didn’t care, if he could make it work he would. “Now, did Amabel tell you that I’m not staying forever?”

Quentin nodded. “She said you were really busy and that you couldn’t talk about it because it’s secret, even from Mom. Is that why Mom is mad at you? Because she doesn’t like secrets?”

“...hah.” Chase gave a sad little smile. “Your Mom doesn’t even know about the secret. She thinks that I left you guys because I wanted to. But I didn’t.” He blinked back tears. “I promise, I didn’t want to leave you guys. I’ve been trying to find you for a long time.”

“Why can’t we come with you?” Quentin asked, whining a little.

“Because this is grown-up stuff, Quentin. It’s no place for someone like you.”

“Because I’m too sick all the time?” Quentin grumbled.

“No, that’s not it at all.” Chase shook his head. “I’m not letting Amabel come, either. The problem is that you’re both too little. It’s not something shallow like you getting sick. I’ve told you, that doesn’t change what you can want to do.”

“Hmmm.” Quentin frowned, a thoughtful expression on his little face, then nodded. “Okaaaay... I get it. But I really miss you, Dad.”

“I know, I miss you so much, too.” Chase looked at Amabel. “Both of you.” Then he set Quentin down. “I have to leave soon, you know. It might be really sudden. I might not have the chance to say goodbye. Do you two know that?”

Amabel nodded slowly. Quentin looked at her and nodded as well. But maybe he was just copying what she did.

“If that happens, it’s not because I don’t love you two, or your mom,” Chase continued. “It’s not because I don’t want to be around you or because I don’t miss you or because I’d rather be doing something else. It’s just... really unlucky that I had to leave and couldn’t say bye. This thing I’m doing is important. Not more important than you, in my mind, but it’s very important to a lot of people. And it’ll help you guys, too, though you might not understand how.”

“Okay, Dad,” Amabel said, nodding again more firmly.

“So... Mom is wrong?” Quentin asked.

Chase hesitated. “Mom isn’t really wrong, she’s just... made a mistake. But that’s okay.”

“Oh.” Quentin nodded along with Amabel again.

Chase laughed a little. “You two look like little chickens with your heads bobbing like that,” he said teasingly.

“Wha—Da-ad!” Amabel put her hands on her hips, while Quentin giggled at the image. “Fine, Dad, I guess I’m not gonna give you this food.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, Amy. It was just a joke.”

Amabel sighed. “I know. Here. We can have breakfast together. Or, I guess it’ll be a snack for us, we already ate.”

The group sat on the wooden floor of the boathouse and ate together. Quentin asked Jameson a lot of questions, and Chase translated Jameson’s handspeak answers when the boy struggled with them. Then, after what felt like a too-short time, Amabel and Quentin got up, said their goodbyes, and Amabel promised to see them again that evening. Chase watched them go, waving, trying not to show his sadness. As soon as they were out of sight, he fully closed the door, sighing.

Everything alright, Chase? Jameson asked.

“It just... gets harder to see them,” Chase said quietly. “Knowing that eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye again. I get this pang of... of grief.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Right here. And it gets stronger every time.”

Jameson looked at him sadly. You know... my father once told me not to borrow grief from the future. I don’t think I understood what he meant until now.

“What did he mean?” Chase asked, confused.

You’re not leaving them yet, Chase, Jameson said. You will, but you’re not leaving them right now. You’ll just hurt yourself thinking about it. And you won’t be able to treasure this time together if you’re hurt.

Chase blinked. Something about that went straight into his core, hitting a ball of something that he didn’t even realize was there. “That... that makes sense,” he whispered. “Thanks, Jameson.”

Jameson smiled. Happy to help in any way.

The rest of the day passed as normal. Chase briefly wandered around a bit, returning by the time Amabel visited in the evening. Then he and Jameson talked about more possibilities of escape. But they were running short on topics, having already talked about this for so long, that they ended up going to bed early. Chase took the first watch. And when it was his time to sleep, he fell asleep right away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the first day of boating up the river, the group of Phantoms had to switch boats. The flatbed boat they’d used for traveling the Moors would be no good on the Muinra Avon. It wouldn’t be able to handle the more intense waves and deeper waters. Instead, they used a boat that looked like a miniature ship, once again borrowing it from a small group of people. They weren’t Phantoms, but they must have been sympathetic to the cause. Or maybe they were paid really well and were smart enough to not ask questions.

Henrik was in a bit of a daze for the whole trip. Not because of his symptoms, for once. It was hard to believe that he and Vsevna were really officially courting. And yet it was true. Something that Vsevna reminded him of on the morning of the fourth day of the trip by sneaking up on him and kissing him on the cheek. “Morning, sova.”

“Ah!” Henrik’s face turned very red. “Morning, Vsevna.” He couldn’t help the smile spreading across his mouth. “I, ah, I-I hear that we will be arriving at Suilthair today.”

“In the evening, yes.” Vsevna nodded. “We will have to talk about what to do there some more. But for now, we can enjoy the journey.”

“Indeed.” Henrik hesitated, then reached out and took Vsevna’s hand. “Do you want to show me around the new boat?”

Vsevna’s eye lit up. “Of course.”

The scenery passed surprisingly quickly, even though they were heading the opposite direction of the current. One of the sailors, Talinir, mentioned something about having a favorable wind. Jackie and Marvin spent most of their time on the deck, with Jackie continuing the training he was doing on the ship. Marvin just sat around, watching the sailors. Jackie tried to tease him for a moment about how he was watching one of the sailors, Mona, quite a lot, but Marvin just muttered something about how he had a cat mask first and how it just looked strange when two people whose names started with the M sound had the same kind of mask. “We look like we’re a pair, but I’ve never seen her before.” So Jackie shrugged that off, a bit sad that he couldn’t tease both his friends for having sweethearts.

Around late afternoon, the boat stopped for a moment, lowering its anchor. The Phantoms gathered in the center of the deck to discuss a plan. “I mentioned this a couple days ago,” Marvin said, “but I have the ability to see through my familiar’s eyes.” He pointed to Draco, lying in a patch of sunlight on the deck. “I think we need to use this somehow.”

“A way to scout the city?” one of the sailors, Jiro, suggested. The others murmured in agreement.

“Great idea, but how are we going to get Draco into Suilthair?” Jackie asked. “Can he just... find his way?”

“It is easy for small animals like cats and rats to get on ships without knowing,” Vsevna said. “I’m sure Draco could get onto the ferry easily enough.”

“Once he is in there, what are we going to look for?” Henrik asked. “Obviously we must find Chase and Jameson. But it is a big city, how will we know where to look? I do not think a cat could cover all of its ground in a single day.”

Marvin nodded slowly. “It doesn’t cost too much of my magic to look through his eyes. But if I keep it up consistently, that constant drain could stack up. But if you’re worried about leaving Draco alone in the city, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Familiars aren’t normal animals. I’m sure the only danger to him would be other familiars.”

“Even so... we cannot have you focusing on that all the time,” Henrik said. “You must rest sometimes.”

“What if we send Draco on one of the morning ferries, have him look around all day, and then come back on an evening ferry?” a sailor named Anya suggested. “That way Marvin could get some rest at night.”

Marvin nodded again. “I’m capable of that. But say that Draco finds Chase or Jameson. What then?”

“We have to have some way of communicating with them,” Jackie muttered. “Attach a note to his collar?”

“We don’t want any of the warriors reading it, though,” a sailor named Catherine points out. “D’you think we could write it in code?”

“I do not think that would work,” Henrik muttered. “Chase struggles with reading even now, and Jameson does not know any of our codes. They could both make mistakes.”

“Is there some magic that could work?” Jackie looked at Marvin specifically as he asked that.

“Wizards have ways of talking with each other over long distances, but it requires that all parties are wizards,” Marvin said. “I’m sure there’s some witchcraft that could work, though. I think I remember hearing about people in Drakild, that kingdom across the sea, using... stones, or something?”

“Message rocks,” Vsevna said. “I have also heard of them. I think I remember some of the runes you need for them.”

“Huh. Alright, Vsevna, you and me talk about this, maybe we can figure out the runes between us,” Marvin said. “And Henrik, you too. You’re familiar with witchcraft, you should be able to tell us if something makes sense or not.”

“That could work,” Henrik muttered. “We attach a message rock to Draco’s collar, and if he finds Chase and Jameson, they can use it. But... what if he does not find them? What if something has happened? Such as... I-I do not want to say it, but such as the King getting to them—”

“Shut up.”

Henrik flinched, avoiding the urge to look over his shoulder at the voice. He knew no one was standing behind him. He knew that. But... what if... what if there was someone on the shore? Someone listening in on their conversation?

Jackie put a hand on Henrik’s shoulder, steadying him. “Deep breaths,” he whispered. Henrik nodded. “You good?” Another nod. “Okay.” Jackie turned to face the group at large. “If the King’s got Chase and Jameson, we’ll have to make a plan to get them out. And that plan will depend a lot on whatever information we can gather. Such as where they’re being kept and what the defenses of that place is. Right now, we’re just in the initial planning and scouting phase. If it turns out they’re in hiding, we then have to plan on a way to get them out of the city, ideally without confrontation.”

The group all muttered in agreement. “We should get started as soon as possible,” Vsevna said. “Hopefully we can get these message rocks done in time to get Draco onto the evening ferry.”

They did, though just barely in time. By combining Vsevna and Marvin’s knowledge they’d heard about these message rocks with Henrik’s practical knowledge about witchcraft, they were able to create two talismans out of smooth, white pebbles with runes on them. Some of the sailors fashioned a small leather pouch for one of the rocks and attached it to Draco’s collar. He didn’t seem too happy about it at first, but he tolerated it.

Then the boat docked on the shore of the Green Lake. Marvin dropped Draco off on the land, giving him magical instructions to get onto the ferry and into the city, then activated the spell to see through his eyes, sitting down on the deck while he did so.

As Vsevna had said, it was easy enough for Draco to get onto the evening ferry. He hopped aboard at the last moment, and none of the crew or passengers had the heart to kick him off into the lake. And so, he got a free ride into Suilthair.

Marvin tried to think about where Chase and Jameson would be, if they were indeed in hiding and not captured. They wouldn’t be foolish enough to get an inn. And they probably wouldn’t want to be too close to the castle. “The neighborhoods, Draco,” he muttered, clutching his focus in his hand. Though his eyes and ears were seeing and hearing what his cat was, he could still feel his body sitting on the deck where he left it, and he could feel his amulet warming with magic. “Focus on checking out the neighborhoods.”

He knew he could keep up this spell all night. But he did hope that he wouldn’t have to keep it up for multiple nights in a row.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For once, when Chase woke up in the draísling, he wasn't in the garden he’s used to. It really threw him off for a second, and he wondered if this is a normal dream. But just thinking that question proved his point. He wasn’t this aware in normal dreams. So he looked around the location, trying to assess things. This was a hallway. A regal-looking hallway. It must have been one in the castle, but it looks different. Newer, somehow, the stone brighter and the tapestries fewer, but less worn. He tried getting a good look at them, but their images seemed to shift. The hallway ended in a pair of grand wooden doors, looking too heavy for a single person to open. It’s lucky that they were already open, then. And in front of them stood the deer.

Chase tried to ask what happened, why things had changed. But his voice wouldn’t work. Even so, the deer dipped its head, like it knew what he was asking. It turned around, facing the open doors, lowering its head and pointing forward with those golden antlers. Chase understood. He walked forward, past the deer, and into the room beyond.

He’d never seen this room before, but he knew what it was the moment he walked in. The castle’s throne room. Tall stone pillars lined the way down the long room, and a green carpet guided people towards the dais at the end of the room. Candles in sconces dotted every surface, making up for the lack of windows. The throne room didn’t have windows? That made sense, you wouldn’t want an assassin to shoot an arrow through a window, but still, even with all the candles lighting things up, the room looked... smaller than he expected. Windows would have helped.

At the end of the room was a dais shaped like a half-circle, with two steps leading up to it, covered in that green carpet. On the dais was a throne. It wasn’t gilt in gold or silver like thrones in stories. It was made of wood. But that didn’t mean it was any less grand. The whole thing somehow seemed to swirl, the wood carved into a willowy shape. Green velvet cushioned the seats, arms, and back. At the very top of the throne were three embedded jewels—two green with a blue one in between them—teardrop shaped with the points at the bottom, forming an overall shape like a budding flower.

A man was sitting on the throne. Jack. Chase recognized him, and tried not to shudder upon seeing the King’s face. Jack looked the same as he had for that brief moment in the last dream when Chase had seen him. Fine clothes that were now torn and bloodstained, chains wrapping around him. A manacle around each wrist connected to the throne’s armrests, and a thin metal collar around his neck connected him to the back of the throne. He was sitting slumped in the throne, but as Chase got closer, he raised his head. His blue eyes widened, shocked. “Y-you... came back...?” he whispered.

Chase walked up, stopping at the bottom of the dais. “Y-yea, of course I did,” he said. “I don’t really control the dreams.”

“You didn’t have to come into the room, though. You could’ve waited outside.”

“...I wouldn’t do that,” Chase said. He looked around the room again. “So... this is different.”

Jack laughed. “Yes. The nightmares change every so often. Just when I start getting used to it. I’m guessing it was deliberate this time, though. After all, you broke me out. I couldn’t be allowed to stay out.”

“...the spirit does this, doesn’t it?” Chase asked.

Jack blinked, surprised. “You... figured it out?”

“I did.” Chase nodded. “We found proof that the King’s eyes were blue as a child, but they’re green now. That’s not normal. Something has to cause that. And you’ve said you were imprisoned by the King. Well... I can’t think of a worse prison than being trapped in your own body.”

Jack slumped again, looking almost relieved. “I thought... you wouldn’t believe me if I told you...” he breathed.

“Maybe not,” Chase said. “But then... what would be the point of me having these dreams? I’m pretty sure that—Oh, I shouldn’t say too much, should I?” He glanced around.

“Probably not,” Jack said. “The spirit hears everything.”

“Well... I’ll say that I’m pretty sure something is giving me these dreams,” Chase said. “And if this was... a trap of some sort, and you were actually lying to me this whole time, what would be the point of that? Do you understand?”

Jack nodded. “I do.” He took a deep breath and adjusted his hands in his lap, the motion accompanied by the sound of clinking metal. “So. Y-you know the truth now. I’m... My name is Aodhán Jack Willeim mak Lough, King of Glasúil. I-it’s a mouthful, honestly, I know. I prefer to just go by Jack. My friends called me that.”

Chase walked up the steps onto the dais. He wanted to be level with Jack... but found that impossible. While on the floor, he was too far down, and while on the dais, he was too far up, and Jack couldn’t stand so they could look each other in the eyes. This fact made him distinctly uncomfortable. So he knelt down on the dais. He was still a bit shorter when that happened, but it was the closest their eyes could be. “How did this... Y-you weren’t always possessed,” Chase said. “When did the spirit show up? Did you... somehow attract its attention?”

Jack sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t think so. I think, perhaps, it was just looking for the right person. And I was perfect.”

“How long has this been going on?” Chase asked.

“...Seven years or so,” Jack said quietly.

“That long?!” Chase cried.

“I only had one year as King before it fully took over,” Jack said. “You know, I always thought it was suspicious. Both of my parents getting sick with some mystery illness, and no one else in the castle being infected no matter how close in contact they were with the King and Queen? I thought someone had killed them. Poisoned them, maybe, with something that worked quickly but not too quickly. And I knew I would be the first suspect. That people who didn’t know me would think I...” He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I don’t... remember any suspicion about your parents’ deaths,” Chase said slowly. “Or your rise to the throne.”

“It was there. Either it was only the nobles who thought it, or the spirit used my power to make everyone forget about that once it took over.”—

“So... the spirit killed the old King and Queen,” Chase whispered.

Jack nodded.

“I didn’t know possessive spirits could do that.”

Jack laughed darkly. “I don’t think this is just any old spiolash that wanders the countryside. He’s... very powerful.”

“Seems so,” Chase muttered. “What... what happened after their deaths? If you’re okay with talking about that?”

“It’s fine, I’ve had enough time to think about it,” Jack said. “Things went... I won’t say things went well, but they were... normal. Being the King was difficult, especially when some of my advisors thought I’d poisoned my parents, but things proceeded how you’d expect them to. Until... I started seeing things.”

“...Things?” Chase asked hesitantly.

“In the dark, usually,” Jack said in a hushed voice. “When I was trying to sleep. A figure in the shadows. I thought it was just sleep freezing—have you heard of that? When you wake up and can’t move and sometimes see fucking terrifying things? I thought it was that. Until I started seeing these shadowy figures during the day, too.”

“Did you think it was a false world curse?” Chase asked.

“I considered it. I got desperate enough to consult with a doctor about it—which did not help my reputation when people found out. But they said I didn’t have any of the other symptoms, so it might’ve been something else.” Jack shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep. When I did, I sometimes woke up in strange places. My nose started to bleed, rarely at first, then as often as once every week. My eyes bled occasionally, too. I tried talking to wizards about it. Maybe this was some sort of curse. But... when I tried to ask, my voice froze up. I couldn’t even imply it subtly. A-and eventually, I wasn’t able to even walk towards a wizard to talk with them. My legs wouldn’t work.”

“That was the spirit stopping you.” Chase meant it as a question, but it didn’t come out as one. Probably because he knew the answer.

“Yes,” Jack whispered. “I-it got worse and worse. I started having nightmares. I started walking in different directions than I meant and it’d be a chore to correct myself. Said... unkind things to people. Couldn’t apologize. Started using my powers in ways I never wanted to. I-I promised I’d never control people. Th-there was an incident when I was little where I would make all the kids around me happy... it creeped me out. And afterwards, when the kids remembered, they wouldn’t talk to me. So, ever since then, I-I promised I wouldn’t do it, even if I thought it’d be good. But... I was... against my will, I was... making people think things. And making them forget things.” He shuddered. “One night, I had a terrible dream. A man with green eyes was chasing me through a dead forest, and he caught me, and pushed me into this little opening at the base of an oak tree and shoveled dirt in front, trapping me. Then, when I woke up, I couldn’t move. My body was doing things without me. I couldn’t... do anything. And ever since then... this has been my life.”—

Chase was quiet. He didn’t know what to say to that. What could ever be good enough for that? Words didn’t seem enough. So he leaned forward and wrapped Jack in a tight hug. He felt him tense for a moment before he absolutely melted into it. “We’re going to get you out of here,” he said. “I swear it, we will find a way to banish this spirit. You will be free again.”

Jack’s breath hitched. “That’d be nice,” he said, his voice thick as he tried not to cry.

“I swear it,” Chase repeated. “I swear it thrice.”

“O-oh. You’re... that serious about it?”

“Of course I am. I can’t leave you to suffer like this.” Chase leaned back. “Not to mention, it’ll really help the kingdom if it wasn’t being headed by an evil spirit.”

Jack laughed. “It would. I was so worried about being a good King once I was coronated, but now that I’ve seen fucking this, I know I won’t be the worst one out there.”

“Not by a stone’s throw.” Chase shook his head. “Maybe I’ll see you in these dreams again. I hope I do.”

“I hope I see you again, too,” Jack whispered. “I hope that the next time you see me, you’re able to see... me. And not that spirit.”

Chase nodded. “I’ll do everything I can.”

“Thank you.” Tears welled in Jack’s eyes. “Thank you so much.”

And then the draísling faded away and Chase woke up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jameson was finding more and more that he hated keeping watch at night. It was boring. So, so, so, so boring. He didn’t have anything to read—not that there was enough light to read even if he did—and no one was awake to play games with or talk to. And since they were trying not to attract attention, he couldn’t very well get up and wander around. So he was left just sitting there. In the dark. His mind tended to drift off, getting lost in his own thoughts.

But he forced himself back to the present. He had to check regularly if there was anyone nearby. He inched over to the door and eased it open, peering out. No, nobody in sight. It was getting close to early morning now, and people would already be getting up and going to work elsewhere in the city, but not here.

And then he saw it. Something moving. Small, and pale against the darkness of the city. He stiffened, leaning forward. Oh. That was a stray cat. But... there were no stray animals in Suilthair. At least not out in the floating neighborhoods. They were liable to fall off the wooden walkways. And yet...

Jameson glanced back at Chase, still sleeping. Then he got up and slowly, anxiously, walked out the door. He crept closer to the cat, glancing around nervously as he did so. It heard him eventually, and stopped, turning to look at him. He stared at it, not wanting to scare it away.

But he didn’t have to worry about that. The cat turned and pranced straight towards him. And suddenly, he recognized it. Jameson gasped and hurried forward. Yes! Yes! It’s Draco! Relieved, he crouched down to the ground and held his hand out for Draco to sniff. Draco did. And once it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere, Jameson hurriedly scooped him up and went back to the boathouse.

Draco wriggled out of his arms soon after he walked back in, landing on the wooden planks with a solid thump. Jameson went over to Chase and shook him until he woke.

Chase opened his eyes, momentarily confused, then looked back at Jameson. He took in the darkness of the boathouse—barely enough to see by—and sat up straight. “Did they find us?!” he whispered.

Jameson shook his head. He pointed back towards Draco.

Chase blinked. “...elders,” he breathed. Then he laughed. “Oh, thank the Elders. H-he found us! Marvin has to be nearby, right?” He crawled a bit closer, petting Draco’s head. “Huh. Did you notice this?” He pointed out a small leather pouch attached to Draco’s collar.

Jameson shook his head. Open it, maybe there’s something inside. A message, even.

“Okay. Hold still, kitty.” Chase reached forward and carefully took out what was in the pouch. “It’s a stone. With... runes on it.”

A talisman? Jameson asked.

“Must be.”

And then, suddenly, a voice came from the rock. “Chase? Jair? Is that really you?!”

“Whoa!” Chase fumbled with the rock and almost dropped it before recovering his grip. “Marvin?”

“It’s me!” Marvin’s voice said, and laughed. “I-it’s so good to see you! I’m watching you through Draco’s eyes right now.”

The rock? Jameson asked.

“Some witchcraft Vsevna suggested. You have to hold it in your hand and speak directly into it. It’s so good to see you two. It really is. I-I didn’t mean to leave, but—well it’s a bit complicated. I can tell you all about it later. Right now, I have to let you know that a whole squad of us have come here to find you.”

“A whole squad?” Chase gasped. “Who?”

“Me, Jackie, Schneep, and Vsevna and some of his crew. Oh, I realize neither of you have met Vsevna and his crew. But they’re very reliable.”

“O-okay,” Chase nodded. “What about Wyvernlair? Did they get our warning?”

“They did,” Marvin confirmed. “But there was still a bit of a scuffle. I’m not sure... I’m not sure how many people were lost. B-but most of them are fine. There’s a new camp. I-I don’t think I should tell you about it, just in case.”

That’s reasonable, Jameson said.

“Are you guys coming to get us out?” Chase asked. “We’re—we’ve been stuck in here. Jameson was caught by the King, I-I got him out of there, but—but we’ve been hiding, and there are no ways out of the city that we can find—”

“It’ll be alright, Chase, I promise,” Marvin interrupted. “Jair? Did you... really get...?”

Jameson nodded.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Marvin said quietly. “L-look, I should probably go, get everyone else awake so we can talk about things together. Keep a hold of the rock. And Draco, though I’m sure he can look after himself.” Draco curled up on the floor as he said that, looking about ready to go to sleep.

“That’s fine,” Chase said. “Um, how long will that take? To gather everyone up?”

“I don’t know, probably not that long. There’s not that many of us. I’m going now.”

“No, wait, one thing we need to tell you!” Chase hurried to add. “Before anything else. W-we learned something big about the King.”

Jameson looked at Chase. Are you sure it’s a good idea to share this? What if this is a trick?

“The King already knows we know this, so he won’t be gaining anything if it’s a trick,” Chase said.

“What is it?” Marvin asked.

“The King isn’t really the King,” Chase said. “He’s being possessed. That voice, that person in my dreams, that’s the real King. His body is being controlled by a spirit.”

Silence. “...if that’s true...” Marvin whispered. “Holy flame, I... I’m not sure how to... W-we’ll be back soon, alright?”

Chase nodded. “Alright. We’ll be waiting.”

“Thank you.”

And though Chase and Jameson stayed quiet, no more words came from the rock. Chase looked at Jameson. “Do you really think it’s a trick?” he asked.

I hope not, Jameson said.

“Yea. I hope not, too.”

For the first time in days, they had a direction. And Chase, after the draísling he just had, felt that he had a purpose, as well. Or a more solid purpose than he did before. He was going to help his family, and the whole kingdom, and Jack. It was a tall order, but he would do it. He could do it.

For the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful about the future.